“No,” the word is drawn out of me in a moan of denial. “Spring. Oh, no, please. Open your eyes, hang on.”
He was my friend when we were young, a kind but serious alpha who liked long walks through our perfect forests. He would show me how to make flowers bloom and taught me patience and understanding. Grief rips through me. His eyes are already fading with the living light. But still, I struggle towards him, trying to pull him into my circle.
Beta laughs, reaches out, and grabs a foot, towing him out of my space and throwing him carelessly onto the ground below, out of my sight. Not that I could ever forget those sightless eyes.
“No alphas. No omegas. It will be a perfect world. You alone will live to remember the night the stars fell. It will be better this way. I will reign on Earth and in Remmilow.”
“What are you going to do?” I sob, still staring at the falling gods. They are like a million stars burning up and crashing to the Earth. I can’t be angry; I'm in too much pain.
“I’m going to cleanse this world and remake it in my image,” Beta says with a smile.
I’m broken; nothing makes any sense. This is all my fault. All my fault.
“Why?” I say it over and over.
The sky is still raining bodies. I kneel on a rock, overlooking the field of my fallen brethren.
They hit the Earth with ground-shaking thuds. Over and over. With each one, my hope fades until I have nothing left.
“Live a long life, Winter Alpha. When someone finally sets you free, omega and alpha will be words of the past, and you can kneel before me and beg for death.”
I shift back to the form of the wolf, cowering away from her. I sing my agony, a dirge of pain, into the night. The way it was taught to me, mourning those who have gone. My voice is the lone accompaniment to the thuds and screams of humans watching their world end.
I was the reason they fell, and now I am the last, the watcher over their bodies that turn to stone in this desolate landscape.
As the day dawns, the bodies stop falling, and I realise this is it. The omega and alpha gods are gone. It’s over.
I am alone.
I send up a single prayer to my Luna Omega, even though she’s never heard me before. But I send her one now, begging for her help. Sending her a warning and a promise.
I am waiting for you.
But no one comes.
Not for a very, very long time.
Chapter 3
The last omegas
Seven hundred years after the Night of Falling Stars
Present Day
I slam into the corner of the grey stone building, dislodging foul-smelling dust that I suck into my burning lungs. My fingers curl into the rock, holding me upright as I let out a low, almost unheard whine. I glance over my shoulder, scanning the bustling street behind me. With a tired groan of pain, I shove off the wall, accidentally catching my shoulder on the rusted steel struts that used to be stairs. Hot blood trickles down my arm, but I ignore it. With daring born from desperation, I dash into the crowd, ducking and dodging the bustling bodies of people going about their miserable lives.
The smell of unwashed bodies and roasting meat mixes in a nauseating blend to my overwhelmed omega senses. The shrill sounds of people calling out, trying to sell their wares, deafen me, but the thunderous roar of the crowd swallows up any indistinct sound.
My skin crawls, hating this. Betas go about unheeding of the smells and sounds. I don’t know how they live like this. My stomach singles out the smell of food and rumbles, letting me know it's been a while since I ate last. I have no time to stop, so, as usual, I ignore my hunger, pushing it down.
I get to the other side of the open market quickly, wishing I could go back and linger near the fire drum to see if the warmth will soak intomy aching bones. Or maybe listen to the chatter of people so mundanely gossiping. Or, better yet, sink my teeth into a hot meal. Instead, I slip into the shadows, pulling my cowl up over my head. I wait three heartbeats before they appear.
Five betas, all male, in black robes cinched at the waist with leather belts, each man is wearing a half mask of black over the top part of their face. A heavy chain necklace with a beta symbol in a gold circle hangs from their necks.
“Too close,” I whisper, my fingers trembling. “How are they so close?”
The Beta’s Path are fanatical thugs with only one purpose in life; erasing omegas and alphas from existence. They’ve been on my trail for days, and, for the first time, I think they might actually recapture me. My chest burns, and I reach up unconsciously, pressing the spot that remembers all too well what’s waiting for me if I get caught.
