I exhale and inhale, pulling the story to me like threads of a tapestry.
“Once, there lived a god…
Chapter 2
The Winter Alpha
The Winter Alpha
The Night of Falling Stars
The mosaic is no less beautiful tonight than it is any night, but the depiction of the Luna Omega and her consorts doesn’t fill me with the savage determination like it did when I first attained High Alpha. I’d dreamed to be part of it, the myth, the legend, becoming a part of something so great I’d end up with my face in tiles on ceilings, a sword out protecting the love of my life. Not because of the adventure or sacrifice, but simply to be by her side again.
Having a love that transcended time and worlds, stories and legend.
She was supposed to be mine.
I’d fantasised about going to join them or bringing them home for so many years.
The All-Seer lied. She told me I could save her. She lied to me and meddled, causing a mess I had to clean up, leaving me to rule over these gods I hate. This whole tedious position she manipulated me into has left me with nothing but an urge to strangle everyone who comes near me.
I am the Winter Alpha, and my winters have been feared for as long as there has been time, and here I am, pushing paper.Chasing smoke.
Still, this place is my favourite because it’s the only place now that still feels like her, the only place that holds one forgotten depiction. No one says her name; it’s been stricken from the records. No one remembers her, and no one will talk about her. She is gone. In every way but in my memory.
I wake up to dreams of her touch on my hand. Her ghostly scent catches my attention before disappearing again. I hear her laugh when I’m tired, and in a crowd, she says my name. An omega that was mine for one length of winter. One that I have not been able to find since despite our vows and promises.
In my mind, I see us walking, my long black hair tangling with her pure white locks. My crimson eyes reflected in the pale silver of hers. Her skin carries the scent of wild forests that has me stepping closer, longing to close the distance until that scent covers me from head to toe.
I rub my palm over the spot that aches whenever I think of her. This hollow in my chest that has existed since the moment I realised she wasn’t coming back.
I’d sit under the art that told tales of them and dream that I was part of the epic tale, with a love that knows no limits, waiting for the day everyone realised they’d made a mistake, and they’d reunite us and bring her home. I’d save her.
We would be together.
Someone told me that dreams were free. I punched him in the mouth. Still, they are as insubstantial as dreams. I can’t save her anymore than I can even find her.
My chance to be a hero, to reunite us never came. The Luna Omega never appeared, not before me. The consorts never came with righteous swords, their gifted godly powers blazing from their skin. No one needed me to go rescue anyone or do something brave enough to see my name written on vaulted ceilings.
They are gone. Those heroes and those days. And the only use they have for an enraged alpha god is to file papers, to answer prayers.
My hands clench, and I use the pain to bring me back, feeling the fury again. All my avenues of finding her have dried up.
There was an omega once that was mine, but she disappeared long ago. On some ridiculous nights, I sit there and wonder if it was her after all or maybe she was a ghost of my own despairing imagination. A conjuration to appease the loneliness that plagues my soul. Am I going insane?
“Where were you?” I whisper to the ceiling. “Where are you now?”
“Alpha.”
My shoulders tense, and I regret my whispered words, but when he doesn’t call me out, I relax.
I turn and smile at the lesser alpha god as he bows. I’m not for all the bowing and scraping. We’re not friends here. It’s the season of winter, and I’ve been chosen to lead the alpha gods until the fifty-year cycle is up. Chosen is a hard stretch. I manipulated it so that I could find my missing omega. But it grates to have anyone bow to me.
He darts past me, not quite running, but clearly uncomfortable in my presence. I get that a lot.
I’ve only been here for thirty-eight turnings of the Earth. I have another twelve to go, but disillusionment is ruining it all. The tedium and constant demands of this job have me riding the edge of my temper, and I feel one fuse short of setting off an ice age.
This is all I was told I should want. The answers would be here. Instead, I’m sitting in the chambers of the gods and listening to petition after petition, granting prayers and accepting sacrifices. This is not what I signed up for. Some days I could cry from the tedium.
