Chapter 3: The Omega Who Should Not Exist
656 Words
The forest did not welcome Lyra.
It watched her.
Ancient trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches clawing at the moonlight. The air was thick with unfamiliar scents—foreign packs, wild beasts, old magic that had not been touched in centuries.
Lyra stumbled forward, every nerve screaming.
Her body burned.
Not like before—this was deeper. Sharper. As if something inside her was tearing itself apart to be reborn.
She collapsed beside a fallen tree, fingers digging into the cold earth as a cry ripped from her throat. Her bones ached. Her skin felt too tight.
“No… please…” she whispered, panic flooding her chest.
Her wolf surged.
For the first time in her life, it did not hide.
Power slammed through her veins, violent and uncontrollable. Blue light flared around her, illuminating strange symbols that crawled briefly across her arms before sinking into her skin.
Her vision blurred.
She screamed again as pain and heat twisted together, forcing her body to arch. Her heartbeat thundered, loud enough to drown out the night.
Then—
Silence.
Lyra lay gasping, chest heaving, sweat cooling against her skin. The pain slowly faded, leaving behind an unsettling warmth.
She pushed herself up shakily.
The world felt… different.
Clearer.
Sharper.
She could hear the wind threading through leaves miles away. Smell water beneath stone. Feel the forest breathing around her.
Her wolf stirred—large, calm, terrifyingly present.
Not weak.
Never had been.
Lyra stared at her trembling hands.
“I’m not broken,” she whispered.
The realization hit her like lightning.
She had never been powerless.
She had been sealed.
She did not sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, the mark burned faintly, pulsing with a rhythm that was no longer pain—but memory.
Images flickered at the edge of her mind.
A silver crown bathed in moonlight.
A throne carved from ancient bone.
A woman with eyes like hers whispering, Hide her power. Let her live.
Lyra pressed her fingers to her temples, breath shaking.
“What are you trying to tell me?” she asked the silence.
The forest answered with a soft hum—low, old, alive.
She was not alone.
Morning brought danger.
Lyra sensed them before she saw them—wolves moving fast, predatory, wrong.
Rogue hunters.
She froze behind a cluster of ferns as three wolves emerged into the clearing. Their eyes were sharp, cruel. The scent of blood clung to them.
“A broken-bond omega passed through here,” one snarled. “Easy prey.”
Lyra’s heart pounded.
Run.
She took one step back.
A twig snapped.
The wolves turned.
“There,” one said, lips curling. “Lucky day.”
Lyra’s body reacted before her fear could stop it.
Power surged.
Blue light flared around her as she raised her hands instinctively. The ground beneath the hunters cracked, a shockwave throwing them backward.
They slammed into trees, stunned.
The clearing fell silent.
Lyra stared at her hands in horror.
“I didn’t mean to—”
The hunters scrambled to their feet, terror replacing hunger.
“What are you?” one whispered.
Lyra didn’t know.
She only knew she would not be hunted again.
“Leave,” she said.
Her voice carried weight—commanding, ancient.
They ran.
Lyra sagged against a tree, shaking.
Her wolf purred—not wild, not savage, but regal.
Queenly.
Far away, Kael Blackthorn woke in a cold sweat.
His chest ached—sharp, relentless.
The bond.
Broken… yet pulling.
He stood abruptly, golden eyes dark with fury.
“What did I do?” he growled.
For the first time since his coronation, the Alpha King felt something c***k inside him.
Regret.
And deep beneath it—
Fear.
Lyra lifted her face to the rising sun.
She was alone.
She was hunted.
She was awakening.
And somewhere inside her, a voice whispered:
You were never meant to be an omega.
- Writer
