Rejected by the Alpha: I Became the Wolf God

The stone floor of the council chamber was bone-chillingly cold. Lirael Voss knelt upon it, her knees numb. Her head hung low, her dark brown hair obscuring half her face, yet she could feel the gaze of the entire clan piercing her like knives. “Lirael Voss, having failed to release pheromones consistently, you are hereby deemed a worthless Omega.” Elder Gareth Ironpaw’s voice echoed through the empty council chamber. Seated upon the high dais, his grey-white beard quivered as he spoke, his cloudy eyes devoid of even a shred of pity. “You are hereby stripped of your clan name and demoted to the lowest rank of servant.” Lirael’s hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms; the stinging pain kept her alert. In her heart, she silently vowed: One day, you will remember my name. But she dared only utter those words within her mind. “A waste is a waste,” someone muttered derisively from below the dais. “An Omega like this is nothing but a waste of food.” “Better to throw her into the Death Canyon to feed the wolves.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. Lirael did not look up. She was used to it. Ever since she had been identified as an Omega, she had been the laughing stock of the entire pack. Whilst other Omegas could release pheromones that intoxicated others, she—she had nothing. No Alpha would deign to give her a second glance; even the other Omegas regarded her as a disgrace. She knelt there, like a stone trampled into the mud. “Lirael, do you have any objections?” Elder Gareth’s voice loomed over her. Lirael closed her eyes briefly. Objections? She had known since childhood that Omegas had no right to speak in the Wolf Clan. Especially a ‘useless’ one like her. “None.” Her voice was soft, yet steady. “Then sign.” A parchment was tossed before her. Written upon it were her crimes—‘Failing to fulfil her duties as an Omega, thereby defiling the bloodline of the Voss family’. Lirael picked up the pen. Her hand did not tremble. The moment she signed, someone below the dais shouted, ‘Get out of here! Don’t sully our Wolf Clan’s territory!’ More voices joined in the laughter. Lirael stood up, her knees aching so badly she could barely keep her balance. But she gritted her teeth and made her way, step by step, towards the door. Behind her came the sound of mocking laughter. Before her stood the tightly shut door. Just as her hand touched the handle— the door was pushed open from the outside. A blast of icy air swept over her. The scent of cedar and cold wind, domineering and biting, made one instinctively want to step back. Lirael looked up. Backlit by the light, a towering figure stood in the doorway. Clad in a black wolf-fur cloak, broad-shouldered and long-legged, he resembled a moving iceberg. His grey eyes swept across the council chamber, and all the mocking laughter vanished instantly. The Wolf King. Kael Thorne. The most powerful Alpha in the entire Wolf Clan, the nightmare and fantasy of every Omega. His gaze settled upon Lirael. There was no loathing in those grey eyes, no mockery—only an emotion Lirael could not decipher. A hint of… compassion amidst the coldness? No. Impossible. Lirael looked away, intending to slip past him. “Stop.” His voice was deep, like an undercurrent beneath the ice. Lirael halted, without looking up. “What is your name?” “…Lirael.” She did not give her surname. She no longer had one. Kael was silent for a moment. Then he uttered a sentence that left everyone speechless. “Come with me.” --- The council chamber fell deathly silent. Lirael looked up, meeting those grey eyes. His expression held no warmth, but those words— Come with me. She ought to have refused. She was now a servant; she had no right to enter the Wolf King’s domain. Yet her feet had already begun to move. Kael turned and walked ahead, his cloak billowing behind him. Lirael followed in his wake; as they passed through the council chamber’s corridor, she could feel everyone’s eyes fixed upon her. Envy, bewilderment, anger. She did not care. She only wanted to know—why was he helping her? Kael pushed open the back door of the council chamber, revealing a passageway Lirael had never seen before. The marble floor was so clean it reflected her image, and golden candelabra hung from the walls, their flickering light dancing across the smooth stone. This was the royal passage. A path reserved for the highest ranks of the Wolf Clan. As Lirael stepped onto it, she felt like a mouse that had strayed into a temple. ‘Hurry up,’ Kael’s voice came from ahead; he did not look back. She quickened her pace, the pain in her knees causing her to frown slightly. But she gritted her teeth, refusing to let her gait betray any sign of weakness. She would not let him see her at her weakest. Never.