Rise Of The Mute Omega

Chapter2

The lantern’s glow wavered across the damp stone walls as Mrs. Hawthorne descended into the basement. Each creak of the stairs sounded louder in the silence, a reminder that nobody else dared to come down here unless it was to leave me with chores. She moved carefully, like she was afraid someone might catch her simply for showing me kindness.

I sat hunched on my cot, a rough blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders, watching her approach. My heart hammered as it always did when footsteps came my way—I never knew if they meant cruelty or mercy. Tonight, it was mercy.

“Elara,” she whispered, as though saying my name too loudly might summon Lyra and her pack of shadows. “Child, look at you.”

Her eyes swept over me—my raw hands, my bruised wrists, the way I curled into myself like I was trying to disappear. She carried the smell of herbs and soap, a sharp contrast to the moldy dampness that clung to my room.

I kept my gaze down. It was easier that way. If I looked up, I might see pity in her eyes, and pity was almost as unbearable as cruelty.

She sighed softly and set the lantern on the floor beside me, its flickering light chasing back the gloom. For a moment she just stood there, her face lined with age and secrets, before she finally lowered herself onto the edge of my cot.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” she murmured, voice laced with quiet anger that wasn’t aimed at me. “Not you. Not tonight.”

I frowned. I wanted to ask why tonight was different, but the words snagged in my throat like thorns. Speaking never came easily to me—silence had been my shield for so long. So instead, I tilted my head, waiting.

Mrs. Hawthorne studied me, her gaze softening. “Eighteen years.” She said it as though it was important, as though the number carried weight beyond my birthday. “Do you know what that means, child?”

I hesitated, then shook my head.

Her eyes glimmered in the lantern light, a strange mix of sorrow and pride. “The Moon Goddess marks us all in her own way. Some with strength, some with cunning. Some…” Her voice faltered, and she reached out to brush a strand of tangled hair from my face. “Some with destiny.”

My chest tightened. Destiny. That word didn’t belong to me. Destiny was for girls like Lyra—beautiful, powerful, cruel. Not for the voiceless omega hidden in the shadows.

I dropped my gaze again, shame burning hot in my chest.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s hand lingered on my cheek for a heartbeat, then fell away. “I know what they say about you,” she continued softly. “That you’re nothing. That you’re unwanted. But listen to me, Elara—those words are not truth. They are chains. And chains can be broken.”

I stared at her, confusion stirring in my chest. No one had ever spoken to me like that before—not as if I mattered, not as if I could ever be more than a servant.

Before I could try to form a question, a sharp thud echoed overhead. Both of us froze. Heavy footsteps moved along the corridor above, voices drifting down—Lyra’s laughter, shrill and cruel, followed by the deeper rumble of one of her friends.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression hardened. She grabbed my hands, squeezing them tight. “You must be careful, child. Especially now. Keep your head down a little longer, and when the time comes…” She trailed off, eyes darting to the stairs. “When the time comes, you will understand.”

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. I wanted to beg her to explain, to tell me what she meant, but the words refused to leave my lips. They curled inside me, trapped by years of silence.

Mrs. Hawthorne must have seen the question in my eyes, because she leaned closer, her voice dropping to the faintest whisper. “You are not what they think you are, Elara. Not by far.”

The footsteps above grew fainter as Lyra and her friends moved away, their laughter fading into the distance. Still, Mrs. Hawthorne didn’t relax. She stood quickly, brushing her skirts, and retrieved the lantern.

“I shouldn’t stay,” she said with regret. “If they find me here, it will only make things worse for you.”

I rose halfway from the cot, panic surging. Don’t leave, I wanted to say. Please, stay. Just for a little while. But my lips only parted soundlessly, and no words came.

Mrs. Hawthorne looked back at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Hold on to hope, child. Tomorrow may be darker, but the dawn always comes.” Her gaze softened, almost breaking. “Happy birthday, Elara.”

And then she was gone, her lantern glow fading as the door closed above.

The basement swallowed me in silence once more, but her words echoed in my mind long after she left.

You are not what they think you are.

Destiny. Chains can be broken.

I sat back down on the cot, drawing the blanket around me. Outside, the faint howl of a wolf drifted through the night, carried on the wind. I shivered, though not from the cold.

Tomorrow I would be eighteen. Tomorrow, Kael Blackwood—the Alpha’s son—would return.

And tomorrow, my life would change forever.