Rejected: The luna of the supreme AlphaEN

It was her birthday, but nothing about that morning felt like it would be special. Soap foam slid between Lyra’s slender fingers as she scrubbed the rough floor of the pack’s main hall, on her knees, her hair pulled into a loose bun that kept coming undone, golden strands slipping out of the band holding them back. Beside her, Petra huffed, sweat beading on her face and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

"You ever notice the more we scrub, the dirtier this floor looks?" Petra muttered, wringing the cloth into the bucket for the third time.

Lyra gave a faint smile but didn’t answer. She was focused on scrubbing a dark stain near the stone staircase. Everything had to be perfect so they could go to the party that night.

The silence between them was broken by shrill laughter and the click of high heels echoing down the corridor. The two exchanged a glance before slowly standing, like people bracing for disaster.

It wasn’t the first time someone had passed by while they were cleaning, but it was certainly the first time these girls had walked through today, and Petra and Lyra would have preferred them far, far away.

Camilla appeared first. She wore a tight, lightweight dress molded to her body as if it had been sewn there. Beside her came Sill, with reddish hair, and Cleair, who carried a permanent look of disdain, as if everything around her were beneath her presence.

"Well, well… look at you two, scrubbing the floor like good little bitches," Camilla said, voice dripping sarcasm as she stopped in front of them.

Petra stiffened. Lyra kept her eyes on the rag in her hand. It wasn’t worth provoking them. In the end, they’d be blamed anyway. After all, omegas weren’t supposed to stand up to beta wolves, they were supposed to be submissive.

Sill laughed loudly, pointing at the bucket of dirty water.

Cleair added with a fake laugh:

Camilla stepped forward and, with a rehearsed flick of her polished boot, kicked the bucket, splashing dirty water all over the freshly cleaned floor.

The three turned to leave, still laughing, but Petra, jaw tight, couldn’t hold back. She muttered under her breath without looking up:

"Petra!" Lyra tried to warn her friend, but it was too late.

Camilla stopped abruptly. Her laughter cut off like a blade slicing air. She spun on her heel, eyes glowing with rage.

Before Petra could respond, Camilla lunged and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back brutally. Petra screamed, trying to break free, but the beta wolf was stronger.

"Stop it!" Lyra shouted, rushing to them and gripping Camilla’s arm tightly. "Let her go!"

Lyra’s touch was like a spark. Camilla’s skin reacted instantly, leaving a faint red mark where the omega’s slender fingers had pressed. She widened her eyes in shock and released Petra, but surprise quickly turned to pure fury.

"You disgusting omega!" she snarled, raising her hand and slapping Lyra across the face with full force.

The crack echoed through the empty corridor. Lyra dropped to her knees, her cheek burning. The world spun for a moment, but it wasn’t the physical pain that rattled her.

It was what she felt next.

The gift she’d kept secret since she could remember exploded in her mind the moment Camilla touched her. It was like unlocking a sealed chest. A rush of emotions flooded her chest. Rage, yes. Cruelty and hatred, too. But beneath it all… envy. Hot, corroding envy pulsing deep in the wolf’s soul like poison.

Lyra stared at Camilla wide-eyed, not understanding.

Envy of what? She was just a servant, an omega with nothing, no one. Why would Camilla, the strongest, the prettiest, the Alpha’s favorite, envy her?

"You’re not even fit to clean a wolf’s paws," Camilla spat, tossing her hair as she turned. "You should never have been born."

Petra rushed to Lyra, crouching beside her.

Lyra nodded, though she could taste blood in her mouth.

"She’s horrible," Petra muttered. "Horrible. One day she’ll pay for all this."

"I just want to know why she’s like this with us…" Lyra whispered, more to herself than to her friend. "We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just cleaning. That’s all…"

Petra sighed and helped her up.

They went back to scrubbing the floor, now stained not just with soap but with humiliation. Neither spoke another word. The sound of the rags sliding across the stone was the only thing filling the space. And as the foam pooled again around the toppled bucket, Lyra felt, somehow, that this would be the last time she’d ever clean that floor.

Because the most important night of her life hadn’t even begun.

A few hours later, the sky had painted the edges of the forest in shades of orange and gold. The twilight light streamed through the lodge windows, tinting Lyra’s and Petra’s hearts with hope. The work was finished; Camilla’s imposed punishment was now just another stain among many. Nothing could dim the glow of that night.

They were together in the room they shared with two other omegas. That was how it was in the lodge: omegas crammed into one house, sometimes more than five to a room, all to save as many resources as possible. After all, they didn’t deserve the dignity betas enjoyed.

"You think anyone’s going to notice the seam on my dress is crooked?" Petra asked, spinning before the cracked mirror, trying to smooth the pale blue fabric she wore.

They’d sewn their dresses themselves, working for months so they could finally wear them that night and look beautiful for their mates.

"With that smile on your face, no one will notice anything else," Lyra replied, a soft glow in her eyes.

She also wore a simple dress, white as moonlight, tied at the waist with a silver ribbon. The thin fabric fluttered lightly in the breeze coming through the open window. Her hair was loose, cascading in soft waves down her back, pinned only by a small flower Petra had picked earlier in the field.

Despite its simplicity, she looked stunning, far more beautiful than many other she-wolves.

"You’re beautiful, Lyra," Petra said, stepping closer with a sincere smile. "If the Moon Goddess is truly fair… tonight will be your night."

"Ours," Lyra corrected, squeezing her friend’s hand.

The path to the ballroom was silent except for the crunch of dry leaves under the borrowed heels they wore, shoes passed down from other omegas who’d already had their night.

The sacred clearing where the event would take place was filled with torches and candles, decorated with seasonal flowers and white ribbons hanging from high branches. The smell of herbs and incense hung in the air, mingling with the anticipation of all the wolves waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Though wolves didn’t take well to human technology, speakers had been placed around the clearing playing pop songs from the human world, songs some she-wolves loved. Lyra had never heard such music; she didn’t have much access to human tech.

Lyra and Petra stopped at the edge, looking around, dazzled. She-wolves danced to the soft music, all in shimmering dresses, jewels, and perfect makeup. But the two girls didn’t fade into the background. Despite their simplicity, it only highlighted their beauty.

For the first time, they didn’t feel out of place. For the first time, it felt like they belonged to something bigger.

"Shall we?" Lyra said, offering her arm to Petra, who laughed and took it.

They walked among the guests and joined the circle of young wolves awaiting the blessing. The fire from the great bonfire crackled loudly, illuminating anxious faces. Then the music stopped, voices went silent, and the sound of a ceremonial horn cut through the night, announcing the elder’s arrival.

The old she-wolf appeared wrapped in a black cloak threaded with silver, holding a silver bowl of sacred water. Her gaze was deep, almost ethereal, as if she could see beyond flesh, beyond time.

It was Lilian, the pack’s druid. She conducted the ceremonies. She was the closest of them all to the Moon Goddess.

She raised her arms and spoke with a raspy voice:

The gathered wolves repeated the prayer, and the elder began moving among the young, dipping her fingers into the sacred water and touching their foreheads, drawing crescent moons on their skin. Each touch released a faint blue shimmer into the air.

In that moment, it didn’t matter if one was beta, omega, or alpha. They were all equal.

Lyra closed her eyes when she felt the wrinkled fingers touch her skin. For a second, everything went silent.

And then the scent came.

So strong, so sudden, so certain.

Cinnamon and rosemary.

She opened her eyes, gasping.

Her body reacted before her mind could understand. Her legs moved on their own, drawn by that scent speaking directly to her soul, her wolf instincts flaring like never before. Petra called after her, but Lyra didn’t hear. The crowd seemed to part, as if destiny itself were pushing everyone aside.

And there, at the center of the clearing, stood him.

Kael.

The Alpha.

Imposing in his stance, dark hair slicked back in soft waves, eyes golden like live embers in the dusk. His black shirt clung to his muscular frame, and his aura pulled everything around him like a storm.

The world stopped.

Lyra felt her heart hammer in her chest, her palms sweat, her knees threaten to give way. But something stronger than fear rose within her, recognition. An invisible, eternal thread pulling her to him. The bond of destined souls.

She took a step forward. Then another.

He turned slowly, drawn by the same scent. Their eyes met, and Kael frowned, as if he couldn’t comprehend. The tension between them was palpable. The bond was forming, and the entire clearing seemed to hold its breath.

Lyra smiled wider, amazed.

She wasn’t strong, nor noble, nor respected.

But still, the goddess had chosen her.

She would be the Alpha’s mate.

She would be the new Luna.