The Omega’s Hidden Magic

I learned long ago that the easiest way to survive was to make myself invisible. Not because I wanted to disappear, but because no one in the Moonridge Pack ever looked at me with kindness. If they noticed me at all, it was only to give me another chore or remind me that I was nothing more than an omega. My name is Elara McCain. I am eighteen years old, and according to everyone who has ever known me, I was born to serve. The morning air bit at my cheeks as I carried two heavy wooden buckets from the river toward the packhouse. The rough handles dug into my palms, and icy water splashed over the rims with every step, soaking the hem of my faded blue dress and my worn leather boots. By the time I reached the kitchen stores, nearly half the water had spilled onto the ground. I sighed. “Useless girl.” The sharp voice made me freeze. Mrs. Brenna, the head cook, folded her thick arms across her chest as she looked me over with obvious disappointment. “You’ve wasted half of it. Go back and fetch more.” “I’m sorry,” I whispered. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry doesn’t fill barrels.” I lowered my head and picked up the empty buckets again. No one offered to help. No one ever did. As I walked back toward the river, children raced past me, laughing as they chased one another beneath the towering pine trees. Their parents smiled proudly while warriors trained in the distance, their swords replaced by powerful claws and fists as wolves shifted in and out of their forms during practice. Everyone belonged somewhere. Everyone except me. I wasn’t born into the Alpha’s family or a respected warrior’s bloodline. My parents were ordinary betas, yet even they treated me like a burden they wished had never existed. I still remembered the stories whispered behind closed doors. The pack healer had examined me the day I was born. “She will never rise above an omega,” he’d declared. Those words became my sentence. My parents never held celebrations for my birthdays. They never praised me. Never hugged me. Instead, they loved my older brother, Tristan, and my younger sister, Lyra. Tristan was destined to become a warrior, while Lyra was beautiful, graceful, and adored by everyone. Then there was me. The forgotten daughter. When I turned thirteen, my parents moved me into the tiny attic