chapter 1:The invisible Omega
The dawn broke over the Crescent Moon Pack territory with a lazy, golden light that did little to warm the biting autumn air. For Luna Silvermoon, the day began long before the sun dared to show its face. As an omega, her duties were endless and thankless. She rose at 4:00 AM, the cold floorboards of the attic she called a room creaking beneath her bare feet.
She moved with practiced silence, dressing quickly in her worn gray leggings and a baggy sweater that had once belonged to the Alpha’s son before he outgrew it three years ago. It smelled faintly of old wool and detergent, a comforting, neutral scent that helped her blend into the background.
Descending the stairs to the pack house kitchen, Luna began her routine. Coffee for the Alpha and his Beta, breakfast preparation for the fifty pack members living in the main house, and cleaning the common rooms before anyone else awoke. It was a hard life, but it was the only one she knew. Her parents had died in a rogue attack when she was a pup, and without close relatives, she had fallen to the bottom of the pack hierarchy. Her wolf, Lyra, was small and quiet, rarely speaking unless necessary. They had learned that survival meant silence.
"Good morning, Luna," a sleepy voice murmured. It was Ben, one of the younger pack warriors, stumbling into the kitchen in search of caffeine. He was one of the few who treated her with kindness, or at least indifference, rather than disdain.
"Morning, Ben. Coffee is fresh," Luna said, keeping her eyes lowered. Eye contact was discouraged for omegas. It was seen as a challenge.
As the kitchen filled with the bustle of breakfast, the air grew thick with tension. Today was the day the Royal Envoys were arriving. The King’s decree had reached every pack: all eligible females between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five were to be presented for the Selection Ceremony.
Alpha Greyson stormed into the dining hall, his heavy boots thudding ominously. He was a large man, running to fat in his middle age, with a temper that flared brighter than a match. "Is everything ready?" he bellowed, his eyes scanning the room. They landed on Luna, who was clearing plates. "You! Omega! Make sure the floors are polished again. If the Envoys see a speck of dust, I'll have your hide."
"Yes, Alpha," Luna whispered, bobbing her head.
"And keep out of sight," Greyson sneered. "We don't want to embarrass the pack by showing them our runts."
A ripple of laughter went through the room, led by Tiffany, the Alpha’s daughter. She was beautiful in a sharp, predatory way, with blonde hair that gleamed and eyes that missed nothing. "Don't worry, Daddy," Tiffany simpered. "She knows her place. Besides, the King is looking for a Queen, not a scullery maid."
Luna felt the sting of their words, but she let it wash over her like rain on a stone. *Let them laugh,* Lyra whispered in her mind. *Their pride is their weakness.*
Later that afternoon, the sound of heavy engines roared up the driveway. Three black SUVs with tinted windows and the Royal Crest—a golden wolf's head on a shield of black—pulled up to the pack house. The air instantly grew heavy with power. These were Royal Guards, wolves of superior strength and lineage.
Luna was scrubbing the foyer floor on her hands and knees when the doors burst open. She scrambled backward, clutching her bucket, trying to make herself small in the corner behind a large potted fern.
Three men stepped out. They were giants, radiating an aura of authority that made the air vibrate. The leader, a man with a scar running through his eyebrow, held a tablet.
"Alpha Greyson," the man stated, not asking. "We are here to collect the candidates."
"Welcome, Envoys," Greyson said, bowing low. Tiffany stood beside him, preening in a tight red dress that left little to the imagination. "My daughter, Tiffany, and the other high-ranking females are ready."
The Envoy looked at Tiffany with cool detachment. "The King’s decree states *all* eligible females. We need a complete census list."
Greyson hesitated. "Surely you don't mean the... lower ranks? The working staff?"
"The decree was clear," the Envoy said, his voice hardening. "Every unmated female aged eighteen to twenty-five. No exceptions. Failure to comply is treason."
Greyson paled. "Of course. Of course. We have a few... others." He waved a hand dismissively towards the kitchen. "Fetch the rest," he barked at his Beta.
Luna’s heart stopped. *Me?* She thought. *Go to the palace?* It was absurd. It was terrifying.
Moments later, she was herded into the line of girls in the foyer. She stood at the very end, still wearing her cleaning clothes, smelling of lemon polish and sweat, while the other girls wore their finest dresses and perfumes.
The Envoy walked down the line, checking names off his list. He stopped in front of Tiffany, who flashed a dazzling smile. He nodded and moved on. Finally, he reached Luna.
He paused. He sniffed the air, frowning slightly. Luna held her breath, staring at his polished black shoes.
"Name?" he asked.
"Luna. Just Luna," she whispered.
"Luna Silvermoon," Greyson interjected quickly. "She's an orphan. An omega. She has no training, no lineage. She would be a waste of the King's time."
The Envoy looked from Greyson to Luna. For a second, his eyes softened. He saw the worn hands, the fearful posture. But he also saw something else—a spark of defiance in the way she held her chin, despite her fear.
"The King decides who is a waste of time, Alpha," the Envoy said sharply. "She comes."
Tiffany gasped in outrage. "Her? She smells like floor cleaner! You can't be serious!"
"Pack your things," the Envoy ordered Luna, ignoring the outburst. "You leave in ten minutes."
Luna ran up the stairs, her mind reeling. She threw her few meager belongings into a duffel bag—two changes of clothes, a hairbrush, and a worn paperback book, her only treasure. As she zipped the bag, she looked in the cracked mirror on her wall.
Her grey eyes stared back, wide and frightened. But beneath the fear, Lyra was pacing, tail twitching with excitement. *Something is changing, Luna,* the wolf said. *We are going to the King.*
Luna took a deep breath. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to be mocked by high-born wolves and rejected by a King who wouldn't even look at her. But she had no choice.
Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the back of one of the SUVs, squeezed between two other omegas who looked as terrified as she felt. As the convoy pulled away from the Crescent Moon pack house, Luna watched her old life disappear in the rearview mirror. She didn't know if she would ever return, but for the first time in years, she felt the stirrings of hope. Not for a crown, but for a chance to see the world beyond the kitchen window.
