The Messenger

Fractured Wings

When Iva returned home that night, the house felt unusually quiet, as if the walls themselves were waiting for her to speak, to challenge the invisible weight that had been pressing on her all day. She let out a long, shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside her chest before approaching her father.

Gamma Rhys was in the study, sitting behind the massive oak desk that seemed to grow taller with each year, papers and training reports scattered across its surface. He looked up as she entered, eyes sharp and calculating, a look that could cut through even the most confident wolf.

“I… Father,” Iva began, her voice small but determined, “I need to ask you about college. I need to send in my applications, but I can’t do it without knowing whether you support me.”

She swallowed and continued, carefully reciting the speech she had practiced over and over in her head. “I’ve thought about this for months. I’ve worked hard, trained harder, and done everything I could to prove myself worthy. I just… I need your decision.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed on her as though weighing every word.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm, dangerous in its stillness.

“And… where exactly do you want to apply?”

For a heartbeat, Iva froze. His question felt like a trap, a weight pressing her words down into her chest. Then, in a whisper, she said, “Lycan Academy.”

For a long moment, her father said nothing. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A low, humorless sound that made her stomach clench. The laughter continued, sharp and mocking, until finally he stopped, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Now… leave the jokes aside,” he said, his voice colder, sharper.

Iva’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to continue, louder this time. “Lycan Academy, Father.”

His dark eyes bore into her, and his next words cut deeper than any strike she had taken during training.

“They accept only the Elites… and Lycans, of course.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, but she refused to look down. “There are… other exceptions as well,” she whispered. “For certain fields. My friend, Lori, she applied for their medical school, and she’s not—”

Her father snorted, cutting her off with a puff of ironic laughter. “Because her maternal grandparents are part of the Elites,” he said, his words laced with disdain. “And she will attend the medical school. That’s one of the few specialties where exceptions are allowed. Unless, of course, you intend to follow the medical field as well… which I highly doubt, given your … abilities.”

Iva’s head fell, the words choking her, the unfairness of it pressing against her chest. “No… Father…” she whispered, almost inaudible.

He scoffed and leaned back, dismissing her entirely, cutting the discussion short with the finality of a slammed iron gate.

“Even if, by some miracle, you get accepted,” he said, voice hard as stone, “I would never allow you to attend it. Not to embarrass the family.”

Her chest tightened, and a storm of anger and hurt flared inside her. Tears threatened to spill, but something deeper than sorrow snapped inside her, a spark that had been smoldering for years.

“I… I am not allowed… because I am a girl?” she asked, voice trembling but rising with every word.

Her father’s eyes blazed. “How dare you speak back to me—”

But she didn’t stop. For the first time, she refused to be small. “I did not choose to be born a girl, Father! And I have the right to fight for my future!”

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the room was silent. Iva thought she had finally reached him.

Then, as if reality itself was crushing her, he leaned forward, his voice lowering with cold, calculated cruelty.

“Your only use,” he said, every word a hammer, “is to bring a good alliance for the pack—through a good chosen mate—and convince him to move here, considering our declining population.”

Iva froze, her stomach twisting violently, her mind reeling. This was the first time anyone had ever spoken about her future pairing as if it were her duty, her obligation, not her choice.

Her eyes filled with tears she could not stop, and the room seemed to tilt around her as the weight of her father’s words sank deep into her bones.

The reality slammed into her like ice. For him, for the pack, for tradition, she had never been allowed to be herself. She had never been allowed to dream.

And now, her life, her future, and the choices that belonged to her alone were already being decided by someone else—before she even had a chance to live them.

--

Iva stumbled from the study, each step heavy as if the floor beneath her had turned to lead. Her father’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind, pounding her chest like an iron drum: “Your only use is to bring a good alliance for the pack… convince your chosen mate to move here.”

She shut herself in her room and leaned against the door, sliding slowly to the floor.

Tears came unbidden, wet and hot, burning the back of her throat as years of silent frustration and longing poured out in a flood.

All those mornings before the training grounds, all the whispered hopes that one day her father might see her worth, all the careful attempts to carve her own place in a world that seemed determined to crush her… it felt pointless, meaningless.

“I didn’t choose this!” she whispered into the empty room, her voice trembling, breaking with anguish. “I didn’t choose to be born a girl! I didn’t choose any of this!”

Her hands shook as she clutched her knees to her chest, pressing her face against them to hide the tears that fell freely. The ache in her heart was sharp, a raw, jagged thing she could not ignore.

She had trained, studied, sacrificed herself to be strong, to be capable, and yet… none of it mattered. None of it changed the truth her father believed: that she existed for the pack and for some imagined future she had no say in.

Her mother’s gentle voice broke through the haze of pain before she even realized Rana was at her door. “Iva…”

Rana entered the room and knelt beside her, her hands warm against Iva’s cold arms. “I know, my love. I know what he said. I hear you. I understand.”

Iva shook her head violently, pushing herself against her mother, desperate for comfort and unwilling to admit how small and fragile she felt. “No… you don’t. You don’t know… He… he doesn’t see me. Not really. Not ever. I’ve been… nothing to him. I know that he resents me because his legacy will die with me as I am not the boy heir to carry further his name and rank.”

Rana’s hands cupped her face, tilting it gently so their eyes met. “You are everything to me,” she said, her voice cracking with her own restrained emotion. “But Iva… your father… he’s never going to understand your heart the way I do. He sees only strength and duty, lineage and legacy. That’s his world. Not yours.”

Iva’s tears fell faster now, soaking her hands as she tried to speak but only caught in sobs. “And my future… my dreams… my choices… they’re not even mine. He wants to decide… my mate… my life… all of it!”

Rana hugged her tightly, the warmth a fragile shield against the cold fury that had taken root inside Iva. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’m so sorry. I wish it could be different. I wish you could live without the chains he’s trying to place on you. I wish I could change him, but I can’t. All I can do is stand by you… but the pack needs everyone’s support more than ever. The declining numbers of our pack and worse than ever. I spoke with Luna and she confirmed that we need a miracle to keep our current pack ranking position considering the situation.”

Iva buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, the mixture of rage, heartbreak, and helplessness threatening to crush her.

Iva’s gaze lifted slowly, tear-streaked and swollen, meeting her mother’s with the faintest glimmer of defiance. Something stirred inside her, fragile but insistent: a spark that had been smothered under years of disappointment and cruel expectations.

“I… I will fight,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Even if he never sees me as I am… even if everyone expects me to be nothing but a pawn. I will fight. My future… my life… my choice… I will not let him take it from me.”

Rana nodded, her own eyes glistening, pressing a kiss to the top of Iva’s head. “Oh, Iva,” she said.

Iva sank into the quiet of her room, tears still falling, but beneath the heartbreak, beneath the pain, something fierce and unyielding began to rise. She didn’t yet know how or when, but she could feel it—a pulse in her chest, a whisper in her bones, a promise of something larger, something waiting for her.

And though she felt broken, small, and powerless now, a seed of defiance had taken root. One day, she promised herself, she would stand, not as the Gamma’s daughter, not as anyone’s pawn, but as herself.

And no one—not even her father—would decide her future again.