The Rise of the Omega Supreme

(Pov: Renata)

The chirping of birds awakens me, signaling the start of yet another morning. With a languid stretch, I pluck up the courage to get out of bed. I take lazy steps, making my way to the window where I witness the sunrise every day. The orange hues reflecting in the clouds, coupled with the lush green of the surrounding trees and the scent of dew-kissed earth, create a scene that never fails to captivate me. This morning vista fills me with inspiration, motivation, and a sense of renewal.

The melodious song of the birds briefly transports me to a realm of tranquility, a peaceful haven that envelopes me every morning. In these moments, I’m free from the concerns of my daily routine. Though my tasks at home are relatively few, the monotony of repetition can be both tiresome and wearisome. My mother owns a cell phone, a device with an array of buttons and many games that fascinated me as a child. Among them, the game with the red snake devouring black dots on the screen left a lasting impression.

Today marks my fifteenth birthday, a day that fills me with uncertainty, anxiety, and apprehension. Questions swirl in my mind: “Will I succeed? Will I make my mother proud? What if I falter?” These questions haunt me daily and today, they’re more relentless than ever.

“No! I’ve pledged to assist my mother, and I won’t falter in that commitment. I’ve never been one to break promises, and now, after years of preparation, is not the time to start,” I assert resolutely. I refuse to let my mother’s smile fade.

“Where is the most radiant birthday girl in the world?” my mother enters, rousing me from my reverie. “There she is!” she exclaims, her face illuminated by a beaming smile.

Balancing a tray laden with a chocolate and strawberry cake, she presents one of my favorite flavors. “Here I am!” I respond with a smile. “Hmm, that aroma is delightful,” I add as I approach her cautiously, mindful not to spoil the cake.

“Happy birthday, my daughter,” she whispers in my ear, her love evident in her words. “I adore you, my little princess. May your path be as clear as the purest waters, and may success go with you through life. May this day be celebrated for many decades to come.”

Breaking our embrace, she plants a kiss on my forehead. My mother, a source of unconditional love and my closest confidant. Alas, my interactions with the world beyond her are limited, leaving her as my sole companion.

“Let’s not keep the candle waiting! Make your wish before it’s extinguished!” she exclaims, her joy palpable. I would do anything for my mother, my devotion to her boundless.

I offer a smile in response and, with closed eyes, blow out the candle while silently wishing, “May I live up to my mother’s expectations.” When I open my eyes, she inquires about my wish, a question she poses every year, yet my wishes remain secret.

“If I share it, it might not come true,” I jest with a sideways smile. My mother mimics the expression before her face lights up. “I hope it comes true,” I affirm resolutely.

“You’re right, sometimes wishes are best kept to oneself. Now, let’s enjoy this cake!” she declares, placing the tray on the bed and handing me a knife. I accept it, cutting the first piece and handing it to her-nothing novel, for it’s always been the two of us. Despite my occasional yearning for the outside world, my mother insists that life beyond our forest home is fraught with danger.

(Pov: Nicollas)

Today marks fifteen years since I lost my daughter, Renata. She remains elusive, lost to us. Each night, my heart aches with thoughts of her: Is she safe? Is she suffering? Where is she?

My heart aches for not having the answers and for seeing my female as sad as I am, or even more so. Where is our Renata? We’re still waiting for her to come back, even though fifteen years have passed, I know she won’t come back if we don’t find her, that vampire apprentice witch from hell must have done some spell to make it impossible for us to find my daughter, if she kept Renata, she certainly mustn’t have told her who her parents are. I just hope that bitch isn’t taking the place that was supposed to be ours, or worse, that she isn’t torturing Renata. Just imagining such situations makes my blood boil.

‘Will we ever see her again?’ I end up falling once again into the sadness of longing, and the uncertainty that, like it or not, surrounds me. If I meet that woman (the unfortunate Scarllet) I don’t know what I’ll do.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

” Yes! I don’t know why, but I have the impression that we’ll meet her again soon, Nicolas,” Ryan, my wolf companion, speaks with hope. I wish I could share his optimism.

“- I hope so, because every day it gets harder to believe it Ryan, I know she’s alive and somewhere, but I can’t find her at all. I swear I did everything I could, I tried, I tried but I failed, I couldn’t protect my family, I’m garbage, I’m nothing…” I confide, releasing emotions suppressed for years, revealing my feelings of inadequacy and failure. Feeling me like a piece of shit incapable of protecting his own offspring.

“Father?” Lucca’s voice interrupts my solace. I hastily wipe my tears. “I knew I’d find you here,” he remarks, entering my office.

“Hello, my son,” I rise from my chair, approaching him. “Come give your aging father a hug,” I jest, embracing him as he smiles appreciatively. “Happy birthday, my boy.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Our embrace concludes, and I examine his face-a mirror image of his mother, save for my eyes that he inherited. His resemblance is a blend of our best traits.

“Where’s your brother?” I inquire, having not seen Rapha yet.

“He’s still asleep,” Lucca responds, taking a seat on the leather couch facing the expansive office window that overlooks the pack territory.

“Rapha’s not an early riser even on his birthday. We’ll have to wake him,” I say, offering a sideways smile. Lucca joins me, sharing the same grin-a family trait. My pride in my two children swells; they possess qualities unique to them, like the trademark sideways smile. The custom of sleeping in, though, they might have inherited from their mother, who rarely heeds my calls to rise.

My sons aren’t merely offspring to me; they’re my dearest friends, with whom I share everything and engage in playful antics. Lina, my mate, often questions if I’ll ever mature, but how can I when they represent my entire world, my family, my life?

Before we head to Luan Raphael’s room, Lucca and I procure a bucket of cold water, mindful not to drench our path. Guided by mischief, we enter the sleeper’s room. Lucca opens the door, and just as I prepare to douse Luan Raphael, a cascade of cold water soaks me instead. Stumbling back in shock, the bucket falls from my grasp, intensifying the watery chaos. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand.

Unbelievable! The prank has backfired, drenching me completely. However, of the room echoes with laughter-my sons are doubled over, and I can’t help but join in. Amidst our shared mirth, it’s clear that their companionship outweighs any inconvenience. These two troublemakers may seem worthless, but to me, they’re priceless, worth more than any treasure this land can offer.

“Good morning,” Lina appears at the doorway, her tone resigned. “Again, Nicolas? Will you ever emerge dry from these antics of yours?” She brushes a wet strand of hair from my face, and I plant a kiss on her lips. I know she feigns exasperation, but deep down, she relishes our children’s camaraderie.

“One day, who knows, I might even catch these two,” I jest, addressing my mischievous duo. “And you’ll aid me, my little wolf.” I flash her a smile, knowing she delights in participating in their escapades. Lina’s spirited, and with her, monotony is nonexistent.

“Of course, my dear,” she hands me a white towel from our son’s bathroom. “Happy birthday, my dear pups,” she says, embracing the boys who squirm playfully.

“Thanks, Mom, but addressing the successor to the Supreme Alpha as ‘cub’ might not be ideal,” Lucca jests, kissing her forehead. “I’m a man,” he declares, striking a comical pose.

“Luan Raphael, you’ll always be my cub, even after your father steps down and you assume his role,” she tugs his ear affectionately. “Mischievous boy.”

“I concur with the Rapha, Mom,” Lucca chimes in, freeing himself from her grip. “The young wolves will make fun of us.”

“Firstly, you’re not old enough to ponder about young wolves,” her frustration evident as her hands land on her hips. My sons seek my support, but I merely raise my hands in surrender.

“Collective hug,” Rapha pleads, attempting to shift the focus. Lucca makes a futile attempt to escape, but I restrain him, and we tumble onto Rapha’s bed, embracing and laughing. “Dad, you’re all wet,” Rapha points out, his concern genuine. In response, I unintentionally exacerbate the situation by pressing against them further.

“You two,” Lina directs her ire towards the boys, “clean up this mess.” Their gaze shifts to me, expecting a savior.

“Don’t look at me,” I raise my hands in mock surrender, following Lina out of the room.

“Let’s retreat to our room. I’ll dry you off,” she teases, her eyes brimming with allure as she sashays away.

“For my Luna, anything,” I trail after her, my desires ignited.