The Dream of My Lycan

(Ryan’s POV) Most wolves dreamed of being born into a prestigious pack. Silver River was one of those names whispered with pride — strong warriors, strict hierarchy, ancient bloodlines. It sounded glorious… unless you were an Omega. Then it was just a gilded cage. I was the son of an Omega, raised at the very bottom of the ladder. Technically, anyone could climb ranks if they showcased talent or combat potential, but that was a joke. The moment an Omega showed skill, someone higher up “put them back in their place.” Hard. Publicly. So I stayed invisible. Safer that way. Tonight, while the pack gathered for the Fated Moon Ceremony — the annual event where newly-adult wolves might find their Fated Mate — I sat alone at the lake by our northern border, legs dangling off the rock ledge, watching the full moon rise above the water. The surface shimmered silver. The air was cold and clean. And for once, no one was barking orders at me or shoving me aside. “At least this is peaceful… after the day I’ve had.” The day isn’t over yet. The voice wasn’t mine. I jolted, twisting around. The forest behind me was still. No footsteps, no scents. Nothing. Yet the voice had come from everywhere — and nowhere. “Who said that?” Oh good, you can hear me clearly, the voice mused, amused and deep. I’d be disappointed if my host were dense. Host. My pulse spiked. “Wait—are you—?” I’m your Lycan. You really didn’t think you wouldn’t have one…did you? “You’re wrong,” I muttered aloud. “Omegas don’t get Lycans.” Most don’t, the voice agreed. But you’re not most. My name is Soul. A chill ran through me — not fear, but something else. Like recognition. Like he’d been waiting for this moment. Before I could form another thought, something tugged at the back of my mind — a force, firm and irresistible — directing my eyes upward. The full moon filled my vision. My bones cracked before I even registered the change. My spine bowed. My hands slammed to the dirt. Fabric tore like paper, the sound sharp and fast. Agony sparked along every nerve, then melted into something powerful, overwhelming, intoxicating— And then I wasn’t in my own body anymore. I was hovering inside my own head, watching a creature I’d never been warned existed. A Lycan — my Lycan — stood at the water’s edge. Six feet tall on all fours. Shoulders like carved obsidian. Fur so black it swallowed moonlight whole, no reflection, no sheen. Eyes the same shade of green as mine, only brighter, unearthly, glowing. He turned, meeting my gaze from inside our shared mind, and grinned with too many sharp teeth. Look at you, finally awake. Soul’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. Your days as an Omega are over. With me…you can rise. You can drag your family out of this gutter. Or at least yourself. His confidence was suffocating. His power, intoxicating. But his ambition was a red flag the size of the moon above us. I’m not abandoning my father, I snapped back. If I rise, so does he. I won’t leave him behind. Ever. Soul paused. I couldn’t feel his emotions clearly yet, but something like reluctant respect flickered through the bond. Then he inclined his massive head once. Then we rise together, he said simply. He stepped back, dissolving into the darkness behind my thoughts. The pressure in my head eased. Only those bright green eyes lingered, watching me, weighing me. No one warned me Lycans judged their hosts. No one warned me they could be terrifying. But mine also felt…right. I shifted back without thinking. One moment fur, the next skin, the cold air biting at me through shredded clothes. I pulled in a sharp breath — and froze. I heard everything. Crickets two hills over. A raccoon chittering near the river bend. The wind rustling through branches a mile away. And… the festival. Clear as though I stood in the crowd. Before tonight, I could barely hear anything beyond a normal human range. Your senses are stronger now, Soul murmured lazily, already half-asleep. You’ll be shocked by how much you’ve changed. “Fantastic,” I muttered. “Mystery doom-voice gives me super-hearing and then decides to take a nap.” Soul didn’t answer. He was truly out. Still trying to steady my breathing, I slipped back through the trees toward home. My shirt hung in tatters; my jeans were ripped from knee to hip. Thankfully, Dad kept spare clothes in the small house we shared. When I stepped inside, the familiar scent of pine cleaner and old leather boots wrapped around me. Dad’s tools were scattered across the table — gearbox parts he repaired for the warriors who couldn’t be bothered to do it themselves. He wasn’t home. Probably at the ceremony. I grabbed a clean pair of jeans, a dark gray shirt, and my boots. My hands shook slightly as I dressed. Soul. A Lycan. A creature Omegas never manifested. A creature powerful enough to tear apart ranks and rewrite destinies. What did that make me now? A freak? A threat? A weapon? Or something more? I stepped out into the night again, letting instinct tug me toward the ceremony grounds. Not because I wanted to be included. Because something — a pull deep inside my chest, like a hook in my ribs — urged me there. The festival lights glowed through the trees, lanterns strung between pines. Music, laughter, and voices buzzed through the cool air. The scent of roasted meat drifted over everything. The pack seemed alive in a way I’d never felt when standing on the fringes. I found Dad at the outer edge, as always, keeping to the shadows where no one would trip over him or glare at him for existing. I walked up and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He stiffened, half-ready to elbow an attacker—until I said, “Hey, Dad.” He relaxed instantly, chuckling. “Surprised you joined the pack for a change.” “I’m surprising like that.” He squeezed my shoulder and turned back toward the center platform. Alpha Mack stood tall and stern, the moon highlighting streaks of silver in his dark beard. His Fated Mate — our Luna — stood beside him, radiant and warm. Their presence commanded the crowd without a single raised voice. “We are proud to see so many youth at age this year,” Alpha Mack announced, voice deep enough to vibrate through the ground. “Tonight marks the first full moon since their turning. May the Goddess guide each of you to your Fated Mate, if they stand among us.” Cheers erupted. Wolves howled playfully. Some clasped hands with excitement; others looked nervous. The Luna stepped forward, speaking gently, but her words washed past me. My senses were pulled somewhere else. To her. The Alpha’s daughter. Rayla Wright. She stood slightly behind her parents, not far from the platform, her copper-toned skin glowing under the lanterns. Her flame-red hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders. And her eyes—green, like mine, but sharper—scanned the crowd with a restless, almost defensive wariness. She wasn’t marked. No mate. That wasn’t just unusual — it was unheard of. The Alpha’s daughter was strong, respected, and stunning. Wolves practically lined up for a chance at her. So why wasn’t she chosen? A strange unease curled in my stomach. Dad elbowed me lightly. “Counting potential mates again?” “No,” I lied. What I was really counting was how many people who were trying, and failing at capturing the attention of the Alpha's daughter. Everyone knew she was going to wait for her Fated Mate. Some didn't care, they thought she should take a chosen Mate. The ceremony continued, wolves stepping forward as sparks of recognition flared between some pairs — glowing eyes, shaking hands, sudden gasps as the Mate Bond snapped into place. I watched from the tree line, unseen, unheard, ignoring the ache in my chest every time someone found their other half. It was stupid to dream of things the pack would never allow me to have. But something in the air had shifted tonight. Something in me had shifted. And deep in the back of my mind, Soul stirred, raising his head. Tomorrow, he murmured, not quite awake, not quite asleep. Tomorrow changes everything. I didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. But I did know one thing for sure— Whatever tomorrow brought, there was no going back.