The Rise of the Omega

The Face of Fate

My stomach dropped. No.

“I’m not an Omega,” I choked out, shaking my head. “I—I don’t belong there.” I tried to reason with her, but she didn’t respond.

Instead, she simply made a motion towards the two nearby guards.

Immediately, the two officers flanking the door moved toward me, their expressions— a warning.

But I wanted to fight. To demand another test. Yet my voice failed me, and before I could find the strength to resist, they were already leading me down a narrow hallway, away from the scanning chamber—away from the future I was supposed to have.

The Omega quarters were nothing like the rest of the College Center. Firstly males and females were already separated, making interactions between the opposite s*x non-existent. The moment the heavy door creaked open, a stale, suffocating air hit me. The walls were bare, the lighting dim, and the chairs—decaying wood on metal frames. It looked uncomfortable.

All eyes turned toward me the second I stepped inside. Some curious, some indifferent, some filled with a deep, hollow understanding.

A girl with tangled blonde hair and a bruise on her cheek scoffed from the nearest bed. “New defect?” she muttered.

I flinched at the word.

"Alright, this is the last of them." One of the guards spoke to the woman standing crossed-armed in the corner of the room.

She nodded once, then looked at me with disdain, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Take a seat!"

My eyes quickly scanned the room for a vacant chair, much too eager to escape the spotlight of judging eyes.

"Damn it, sit on the ground if you have to!" The harsh voice rang out, startling me as she gave me a once-over look before strutting out of the room.

I rushed to the back of the packed room that held no space for me, then leaning against the cold unwelcoming brick wall with my hands curled into fists at my sides, I slid down, all the way to the ground, swallowing the growing lump of humiliation in my throat while fighting to hold back the threatening tears.

I heard the snickers, and my eyes involuntarily flicked up, and though cloudy with unshed tears, a quiet movement beside me caught my attention.

A girl sat on the edge of her chair, dark hair falling over her face as she peeked down at me through long lashes. Unlike the others, there was no mockery in her expression, no sharp edges or smirks—just a quiet understanding.

She shifted slightly, then, so subtly I almost missed it, patted the empty space beside her. An invitation.

Hesitant, I glanced around, half-expecting it to be a prank. But no one else seemed to notice—except the blonde, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.

I didn’t have many options.

With slow, cautious movements, I stood, my heart hammering as I sat down beside the girl. The distressed wood creaked under our combined weight, but at least I wasn’t sitting on the floor anymore.

At first, she didn’t say anything. Then, after a long moment, she murmured just loud enough for me to hear, “Hi, I'm Nudean.” Her voice was soft, carrying the weight of someone who had accepted their fate despite knowing what it meant.

"And I'm Avalee."

I thought I had spoken as quietly as she did, but–

"No one cares!" Blondie gritted out as though I had publicly offended her. "You don’t even below here."

That was exactly what I had been trying to tell the attendants, but how did she know?

I was once again the center of attention as all eyes gravitated to me.

She then turned her nose up, her sharp green eyes placing me under scrutiny. “You don’t smell like an Omega,”

Her words had a rippling effect, awakening the curiosity of the room as some began to sniff the air, their nose wrinkling in disgust before nodding in agreement.

“I’m not,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “The machine—”

“Didn’t light up.” The blonde smirked, leaning back in her seat like she had scored one on me. “Yeah, I saw.”

I swallowed hard, a sinking weight pressing down on my chest.

"That means you're not even an Omega. You aren't anything. You. My friend. Are. A. Nobody."

The truth of her punctuated words stang like a cobra's deadly bite.

“I guess that gives new meaning to defective,” someone whispered, and laughter erupted like lava spewing from the mouth of a volcano. Thick, hot, and destructive.

I tried to make myself small, wishing to disappear into thin air, but soon the woman, placed in charge of us, returned to collect something, and the voices toned down to a hush. Then she left again.

However, it seemed as if the conversations had moved on and the Omegas had lost interest in me, some ignoring me entirely, while others—like the blonde—her especially, watched me with a smirk, as though planning for me, orchestrating my downfall in a world she thought she ruled.

And for the first time, ever, I dreaded my life.

When the door opened yet again, it was a different face. A man, poise with authority, his long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and an air of professionalism about him that contrasted sharply with his dark suit.

“Everyone up. It's time to go. Your bus has arrived.”

The room stood, heads hung low, displaying submission, but me... maybe it was because I had no wolf, but I felt unaffected. Yet, I didn't want to be seen as defiant, so I quickly followed suit, baring my neck in a similar manner to them all.

The evening's air was thick with unease as we were led outside, the heavy door slamming shut behind us. My breath hitched when I saw it—the bus waiting at the edge of the loading bay.

It wasn’t just any bus.

It was massive, with reinforced metal siding, rust creeping along its edges like veins of decay. The windows were covered with thick steel bars, and the dull black paint looked worn out like it had seen years of use without care. The doors stood open, revealing rows of hard, bolted seats inside. It looked less like transportation and more like a prison on wheels.

My stomach turned.

“This is a mistake,” I whispered under my breath, panic creeping in. “I don’t belong here.”

But it wasn’t like anyone cared.

A guard barked out orders, shoving Omegas toward the bus one by one. Some moved with quiet resignation, heads down, shoulders slumped. Others hesitated, glancing around as if looking for an escape. But there was none.

A sharp elbow nudged my side.

“Move foward.” the blonde Omega from earlier sneered, her smirk laced with something close to amusement. “Or do you need a royal escort?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to walk as inch by inch the line crept forward, the heavy weight of inevitability settling in my chest with each step. I could hear the dull hum of the bus idling ahead, waiting to swallow us whole. The Omegas around me moved with resigned silence, their shoulders slumped, their eyes vacant.

I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to steady, still finding it hard to come to grips with my reality. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Then, just as I reached the base of the bus' steps, a voice cut through the noise.

"Wait! Wait, that's our daughter!"

I froze.

My heart lurched as I turned toward the commotion.

My parents stood near the entrance of the loading bay, my father gripping a worn duffel bag in one hand, my mother clutching one of my favorite jackets, neatly folded. Relief flooded their expressions the second their eyes met mine.

An official nearby sighed, then gestured for me to step out of line. I barely hesitated before hurrying toward them, my feet moving faster than my brain could process.

My mother’s arms were around me in an instant, the familiar scent of home wrapping around me like a lifeline.

"Thank the Moon Goddess," she murmured against my hair. "We got here just in time."

My father joined the hug, then pulled back just enough to scan my face, searching for something. "What did you get?" he asked, his voice gruff but expectant. "Orange?"

My stomach twisted.

The weight of the words—of the truth—settled heavy on my tongue.

I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears. "I..." My throat tightened. "I didn’t get a color."

Silence.

It stretched between us, long, awkward and tense.

Then my father’s brows furrowed. "What do you mean, you didn’t get a color?"

I licked my lips, fighting against the panic rising in my chest. "The machine..." I shook my head. "It didn’t light up. Not red, not green, not even purple." My voice cracked. "They scanned me three times. Then they tried an old handheld scanner just to be sure. And still—nothing."

My father took a small step back, his face paling. "That’s impossible," he muttered.

My mother, though—she didn’t move. She didn’t speak.

But I saw it.

The flicker of something in her eyes.

Not just shock. Not just sadness.

It looked almost akin to guilt.

She pressed a hand to her lips, her gaze darting away like she couldn’t bear to meet mine anymore.

The realization settled into my bones, cold and unwelcome.

She knew something.

Could it be about why this had happened?

"Mom?" My voice came out small, uncertain. "Do you—do you know something?"

She flinched, just barely.

But it told me more than enough.

"Mom?"

Her mouth opened, but then—

"Alright, that's enough, that's enough!" The sharp voice of the guard sliced through the air, the thumps of their boots sending a jolt of panic straight through me.

I turned just in time to see two of them coming, their expressions stern and their intent clear.

"Time to get back in line," the taller one said, his voice firm. "The bus is getting ready to leave."

"No—wait!" My father moved protectively in front of me, his grip tightening on my duffel bag. "This has to be a mistake. There must be another test, another—"

"There is no mistake," the guard cut him off. "No color means no rank. No rank means she goes with the Omegas."

A deep, suffocating silence settled over us.

I felt my mother stiffen beside me, her fingers trembling slightly where they clutched my sleeve.

"But that doesn't make sense," I whispered, my throat tight. "There has to be something else. Another explanation—"

"We don't make the rules," the guard interrupted. "We simply enforce them."

And with that, he reached out, his gloved hand gripping my arm.

"Wait!" My mother gasped, the sound raw and pained.

I twisted, looking at her—at the grief in her eyes, the guilt shadowing her face. "Mom," I pleaded, desperation thick in my voice. "Tell them. Tell them whatever it is you know."

She opened her mouth again, her lips trembling, hesitating.

"Please," I begged as I felt the man trying to tug me along. "Tell them. Tell me why this is happening."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. "I—I never thought it would come to this," she murmured, her voice cracking. "There was something… something we should have told you long ago."

My father turned to her, his expression darkening. "What are you talking about?"

She exhaled shakily as if forcing herself to continue. "Your—"

A sharp blast of the horn echoed through the air, impatient and final.

"Enough." The guard’s voice snapped through the moment like a whip and I barely had time to process anything else before the guard's grip painfully tightened on my arm.

"She’s done here," the guard said coldly. "She needs to get back in line. Now."

"No!" My father grabbed my other arm, his grip tight. "You don’t understand—"

The second guard stepped forward, his stance stiffening. "Sir, let go of her."

"Wait—just a minute!" My mother’s voice was frantic now, but she wasn’t looking at the guards. She was looking at me, like she was trying to burn some unspoken truth into my soul before I was ripped away.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

The first guard yanked me backward, his strength undeniable.

"Mom!" I cried, reaching for her, for anything—

But it was too late.

I struggled, but it was useless. The doors of the bus loomed ahead, dark and unyielding.

The last thing I saw before I was forcefully thrown onto the bus with my stuff rudely tossed in behind me, was my mother, frozen in place, tears streaking silently down her face. My father shouted something—anger and pain mixed into one—but the doors slammed shut with a sickening finality before I could hear it.

And just like that… they were gone.

And so was I.

The inside of the bus was just as bleak as the outside—cold, unwelcoming, the air thick with something bitter and stale. The seats were arranged in rigid rows, metal barriers separating sections as if to prevent any real contact. The engine rumbled to life, the vibrations sinking deep into my bones as I picked up my stuff and sat mere seconds before the bus jerked forward, pulling away from the College Center.

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled, laced with amusement. "Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little princess on board."

I turned toward the sound, my stomach twisting.

Blondie was lounged across her seat, one leg crossed over the other, her arms draped over the backrest like she had all the time in the world. Her sharp green eyes flicked over me, her lips curled into a smirk.

"Your bag looks like it's straight out of some fairytale," she mocked, tilting her head. "What happened, Princess No-Rank? Daddy couldn’t buy you a different color?"

Laughter rippled through the bus.

Heat flared up my neck, but I forced myself to keep my expression blank— unaffected, but it was easier thought of than done.

"I’m not a princess," I muttered, gripping the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles ached.

Blondie’s smirk widened. "Oh, you definitely are. Just look at you—your little suitcase, that wide-eyed little this must be a mistake expression." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "But let me give you some free advice, Princess—nobody cares. You’re no better than us. Welcome to the bottom."

The bus rattled forward, a hollow silence settling between the laughter as I exhaled slowly, staring out the grimy window as the trees blurred past. The bottom.

Funny thing about falling—most people think it happens all at once, a single drop, quick and clean.

But sometimes, you don’t even realize you’re falling until you've hit rock bottom.