The Rise of the Omega

I wish I could turn back time, to the good old days, the days of ignorant bliss—before that moment that forever sealed my fate. I still recall every sngle datail of yesterday like a hunting nightmare. **yesterday** "Happy birthday, darling." My mother pulled me into a tight embrace, her warmth wrapping around me like a cocoon. "I can't believe you're already eighteen." Her voice wavered as she pulled back slightly, her glossy eyes scanning my face, as though memorizing each detail. She gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. "It feels like just yesterday you were learning how to walk and talk... and now you're heading off to the College Center." I smiled, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling inside my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. Already? The College Center was situated in the heart of the city, where all neighboring packs on the south side intersected. It was the place where every wolf went at the age of 18 to determine who they were going to be and which College they'd attend. The facility was equipped with a huge scanning machine that each student passed through upon entry. Then something in the mechanics of its design would awaken our wolves, causing a light to illuminate. Red meant Alphas— those born to lead. Green meant Betas– those second in command. Blue meant Deltas– those in a support role for both the Alpha and Beta and who'd step up to the plate if an Alpha ever lost their Beta. Orange meant Ordinary wolves which was still a blessing in itself because it allowed them to chart their own path. They could choose to be a Salutary– herbal wolves, a Sentinel– those who ensured the safety of the pack by patrolling the territory and watching the movements of the surroundings, a Soilder– those who went out and fought war, or warned the pack of incoming danger beyond the border... The list of what they could be and do was endless. And then there was Purple, the Omegas. The lowest of the low. They didn't get the luxury of choosing what they wanted to be. No, the choice was made for them. And it seemed as if their lives only existed for one purpose— to serve, but never be served. However, as sad of a reality as that seemed, I didn't have anything to worry about. My mother was a Salutary and my Father was a Sentinel. And with such a promising bloodline, I knew the odds lay in my favor. I reached out, wiping away the tears from Mom's cheeks while offering her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Mom. Before you know it, four years will fly by, and I'll be back." "You better come back." Mom tearfully chuckled attempting to wipe the neverending stream of tears from her eyes. "Alright, kiddo. Time to go!" My father's voice boomed as he stepped into the house, wiping his grease-stained hands into an old rag. "The truck is all set and ready to rumble." "You and that truck." I teased, shaking my head as I grabbed my bag, and walked past him. "When are you going to replace it?" "Hmm, how about... never." He chuckled, ruffling my curls that I had only spent forever trying to tame. But it was OK, because these were the memories and moments that would take me through those four long years away from home. "All aboard!" Dad tutted the horn as we pulled out of the driveway. Soon the familiar sights of my past—that small yet cozy house nestled at the edge of the woods— began to blur into a shadow as we traveled along the dirt road I’d run down a thousand times as a kid. With every mile, the distance between me and everything I’d ever known stretched wider, a dull ache settling in my chest, triggering a stray tear. This was goodbye for now, but not goodbye forever. The journey was filled with silence— Mom still wallowing in grief while Dad rhythmically, yet quietly strummed his thumb against the steering wheel to a silent tune. Then suddenly, the silence was punctuated by a deadly rattling. The truck sputtered, coughed, and lurched to a dead stop on the side of the road. "You have got to be kidding me," I groaned, gripping the edge of my seat as the engine let out a final, pitiful wheeze. Dad smacked the steering wheel with an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, old girl. Not today." He muttered a few more words under his breath before turning to me with a forced smile. "Alright, kiddo. Looks like we’re taking a little pit stop." I slumped back against the seat, pressing my hands to my face. "Dad, this isn't funny! What if we're late?" Mom, putting her grief momentarily on pause, reached over, running her palm soothingly across my back. "It's ok, baby. We’ve still got some time. We'll make it." Dad swung the door open and stepped out, rolling up his sleeves. "I try to be as quick as possible. Want to give me a hand?" "Indeed not!" Mom scowled. "I can't have my little girl smelling like she just rolled out of a mechanic shop." "But these life skills last forever." Dad countered. "And so do first impressions." I chuckled at their little banter. "It's ok mom. I'll be fine." I hopped out onto the cracked pavement, as I looked around. We were on the main road still a far ways from the city, the vast stretch of trees lining either side making it feel like the middle of nowhere. The early autumn air carried the crisp scent of pine and damp earth, but I was too anxious to appreciate it. Dad popped the hood, releasing a puff of smoke that made him recoil with a cough. "Well, that’s not a good sign." "No kidding." I mused, leaning slightly over to peek in, trying to assess the damage. "Are you sure we’re going to make it?" He wiped his hands on the rag tucked into his pocket, then shot me a lopsided grin—the same one he always wore when trying to make the best of a bad situation. "Trust me, kid. If I can keep this truck running for twenty years, I can get it to the College Center." I bit my lip, watching as he leaned into the engine, using his bare hands to twist and adjust different parts. Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Every second felt like a countdown to a disaster. I glanced down the road, hoping to see another vehicle, but vehicles were sparse this far from the city. "Try to start the truck, sweetie." Dad finally called out, motioning to the driver's seat. I hurried over, hoping in, praying for a miracle. Then, I held my breath as I turned the key. The truck came alive, shuddering and brimming with hope— false hope. "Try again!" Time slipped by, slowly, quietly, unassuming. A few crows cawed overhead, circling like they were mocking my predicament. "Hey, pass me the wrench from the toolbox," Dad called out. I hurriedly hopped out and rushed to the drunk of the pick-up truck, yanking the box open. Digging through the mess of tools he kept stashed inside wasn’t as easy as I'd hoped but soon, my hand landed on just what I came for. Just as I grabbed the wrench, a rustling in the woods made me freeze. Something—or someone—was out there. A shiver crept up my spine as I slowly turned my head toward the trees. The shadows between the thick trunks shifted, but I couldn’t see what lurked beyond them. "Wolves don’t get scared of the woods," I muttered under my breath, shaking off the unease. I grabbed the wrench and slammed the box shut before jogging back to my dad. "Here," I said, handing it over. "Thanks." He tightened something under the hood, then straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. "Alright, time for the moment of truth." I held my breath as he climbed back into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine stuttered, then roared back to life. Relief flooded me. Dad smirked. "Told you. This Old girl still has some fight left in her." "Great. Now let’s go before she changes her mind." Mom muttered as I hopped in beside her. There they went again but I grinned, I sure was going to miss this— miss them. Soon we were pulling back onto the road, and instinctively I stole one last glance at the woods. The rustling had stopped. The shadows had stilled. But something told me we hadn’t been alone back there. And for some reason, that unsettled me more than I cared to admit but just then, the alarm on my phone pulled me out of my head. Shoot. It was 12:00 "We're cutting it close," I muttered, glancing at the time on my phone. Dad tapped the dashboard with a grin, as if sheer willpower would keep the truck moving and get us there in time. "Close is still on time." I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers to my temples. The College Center’s ceremony had a strict policy—if you didn’t pass through the Scanning Machine before 3:00, you didn’t pass through at all. That meant waiting another year. A whole year of uncertainty, stuck in limbo while everyone else moved on with their lives. We were still a good ways off and that breakdown had pushed us back. Things weren't looking too good and as the truck rumbled along the winding road leading into the city, traffic came to a grinding halt. My stomach dropped. A long line of cars stretched ahead, barely crawling forward. Flashing lights from a patrol vehicle up ahead made my pulse spike. "No, no, no," I whispered. Dad squinted. "Looks like an accident up there." "I can’t be late, Dad!" Panic tightened in my chest. He frowned, drumming his fingers against the wheel. "Let me think." There was no time to think. I yanked off my seatbelt and flung open the door. "I’ll run." Mom's head whipped toward me, pulling the door back in. "Like hell you will!" "Mom, but I have to!" I turned, pointing down a narrow side road that cut through the trees. "That path leads straight to the city. I can make it faster on foot!" "But you'd be all sweaty by the time you reached." "But at least I'd reach." I tried desperately to make her see my point, my eyes pleading for understanding. Her jaw tightened, torn between reason and reality. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she nodded. "Alright, but be careful." I didn’t waste another second, I threw my arms around her while reaching over to give Dad's hand a farewell shake. "Bye. Love you guys." Mom's eyes were already full of tears by the time I pulled away and the grief in Dad's heart bled into the faint smile he wore on his face. "We love you too, so much." Mom sniffled as she grabbed my hand, not really wanting to let me go. "Yes Kiddo, we love you." I smiled through my tears as I threw the door open. "Don't worry about the bags, we'll make it down there in time before the bus collects you." Dad's voice rang out and knowing I'd see them again brought a smile to my face. And after one final wave, I bolted. I had long forgotten about whatever it was I had seen earlier in the woods because reaching the College Center became my only focus. I kept running and soon my lungs were burning, my legs were screaming, but I didn’t stop— couldn't stop. I tore through the wooded path, leaping over roots and dodging low-hanging branches. The city lights glowed in the distance, but the sun was sinking fast. Too fast. By the time I reached the city’s edge, my shirt clung to my skin, and my breath came in ragged gasps. The College Center loomed ahead, its grand silver gates standing wide open. I stumbled onto the sidewalk, nearly collapsing. My heart slammed against my ribs as I checked the time. Five minutes until 3:00. I ran harder than I ever had in my life. People stared as I sprinted past, my wild curls whipping around me, my breath coming out in sharp, desperate gulps. Two minutes. The doors were still open. One of the attendants—a tall woman in a sleek black uniform—started to move toward the entrance, reaching for the handles. "Wait!" I choked out, my voice hoarse. She turned just as I threw myself through the doors, my momentum sending me staggering forward. I barely caught myself before slamming into the check-in counter. The woman arched a brow. "Cutting it close, aren’t we?" I could barely breathe, let alone answer. From the corner of the room, I saw the Scanning Machine—the towering structure that would decide my fate. The last few wolves were stepping through, their colors illuminating the room in flashes of red, green, and orange. Each time a woman sitting behind a desk shouted out the color as if the room needed confirmation. I swallowed hard. This was it. My turn. Straightening, I forced my shaking legs forward, stepping toward the machine. The moment I crossed the threshold, a soft hum filled the air, vibrating through my bones. A light flickered above me. I held my breath, waiting for that orange glow. And then, the color appeared. Orange! I smiled, waiting for the woman to give her usual shout, but instead, the room went eerily silent. I frown, looking out, then up, and that's when I saw it. My true color. I had expected orange so I saw what I wanted to, but the truth was there staring me back in my face. A sick, sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I gulped, my eyes flicking to the attendant now approaching me. "Step out and try stepping back in again." I stepped back out, the whispers of the conversations around me not lost on my ears. "What does white mean? I've never seen white before?" "Come!" The woman gestured for me to try again. I stepped forward, my heart hammering so hard it drowned out every other sound except that taunting hum of the machine, sending a prickle down my spine. Seconds passed. Nothing happened. The hum faded. The machine stilled. The room remained eerily silent. My breath hitched. My stomach twisted. This time, no light. No color. Nothing. Murmurs rippled through the room. The attendant at the desk frowned, glancing at her clipboard before looking up at me. “Again.” One more time. Still, **nothing**. Panic clawed its way up my throat. This wasn’t possible. Everyone had a role—everyone’s fate was determined by this machine. There were no exceptions. And yet, I stood there, colorless. The attendant’s expression tightened as she whispered something to the other officials who were now gathering around to see for themselves and occasionally their eyes flickered toward me with something unreadable—concern? Disbelief? Pity? No. Not pity. Because that would mean something was wrong with me. The murmurs in the room grew louder. The machine had failed to register me. No color. No classification. Nothing. “This can’t be right,” I said, my voice hoarse and shaken with panic. “This has to be a mistake. Both my mother and father are orange." The attendant hesitated, then turned to one of the older officials, an older man with graying hair and sharp eyes. He studied me for a long moment before giving a curt nod. “Come with us,” I sighed, hanging my head as I was led to one of their white-tiled offices. "Either the machine is broken or you don't have a wolf." One of the accompanying uniformed men spoke, his voice void of emotion. His words were followed by a deafening silence as my mouth opened, but no words came out. Because without a wolf, I didn’t belong anywhere. "I guess we'll find out which it, now." The older replied. "Bring me the manual scanner.” At his instruction, his partner obediently retrieved the small, rectangular device from a locked case. It was worn, its edges scuffed from years of disuse. My palms were slick with sweat as he handed it over and the older officer stepped toward me. "This was what we used back in the day before technology became so advanced." He powered up the scanner, the loud rattle of it almost too much for the small confined room. Yet a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. If the main machine had indeed malfunctioned, the scanner would still read my classification. It had to. “This will confirm your status,” he said. “Hold out your hand.” I obeyed, my fingers trembling as he pressed the cold metal against my palm. A soft beep filled the air. The scanner flickered– scanning, reading. And then— nothing. No glow. No color. No answer. My breath hitched. The official’s face remained unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw said everything. The scanner had confirmed it. I wasn’t an Alpha, Beta, Delta, or even an Omega. I was nothing. He shook his head. "No wolf." But I had to go somewhere, I had to be placed in a college. "Go on back to the reception desk. They'll sort you out." As I exited, the look on my face answered the question everyone was asking. Now they knew. I saw the woman at the front desk scribbling something down on her clipboard with a sigh before giving me a pointed look as I stopped in front of her station. Then, holding out my name tag, she forced a smile. "Welcome, Omega. Please proceed to that room over there, with the purple door."