11 Years Later | Present

Lorali Pov

"Hurry up, Lori!" Arabella laughs as she races ahead of me. We’re both late for the most important day of our lives.

"Do you think it’s the announcement?" I ask, breathless as I try to keep up.

Arabella—Ella for short—is my best friend and roommate. She arrived here a month before me, and like everyone else in Alma, she’s an Omega. She’s one of a kind, a beauty so striking it feels unreal. Her light pink hair glistens under the sunlight pouring through the tall windows, her white dress with its pink belt flowing behind her like water. Her skin is fair, her hazel‑green eyes wide and doe‑like, her lips a soft plum. Arabella is perfect. No wonder she’s Headmistress Cleovera’s favorite. She’s mine too. I aspire to be like her.

We fly down the stairs from the fourth floor, practically gliding through the newly renovated medieval halls until we reach the corridor where our class is about to enter the cathedral.

Madam Tilly, our homeroom teacher and a beta, turns to see us huffing and puffing. Her face twists in annoyance. "Get in line. Now!" she hisses.

"See you later." Arabella darts to the front. She’s the face of our class, number one, always leading.

I slip into the middle, sixth in our class of eleven. In front of me is Vanya, behind me Susie. They arrived the same year I did, just later, and we’ve been good friends ever since. The only reason I’m number six is because Susie, number seven, is scentless. By law she should be a beta, but Headmistress vouched for her, insisting she was an Omega.

The cathedral doors open and we file inside. Rows of stone benches stretch before us, and at the front stands the goddess statue, carved in stone, her face veiled. Sunlight pours through the massive glass window behind her, bathing the hall in gold.

"I can’t believe you were late for such a big day," Vanya whispers as we stand above our seats, hands folded neatly in front.

"I messed up the alarm. Plus, it didn’t help that we stayed up all night wondering if it was the announcement," I whisper back.

Vanya rolls her hazel eyes. "I told you it’s not going to be the announcement."

"And you know that because you’re a prophet?" Susie cuts in, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, maybe." Vanya smirks, clearly trying to egg Susie into a clash. That’s what me and Susie are known for—rage campaigns that spiral fast. Honestly, I’m shocked we’re friends, considering how similar we are.

The hall suddenly hushes. Silence falls heavy. We don’t need to look to know the Headmistress has entered.

She stands on the raised platform, the goddess statue looming behind her. Her eyes sweep across the hall, scanning all one hundred and eighty‑five Omegas gathered here. Headmistress Cleovera is like a mother to us all. Cold, yes, and rarely emotional, but she’s an angel in our lives, appearing in our lowest moments to save us. I can’t imagine how horrible my life would have been without her.

She stands tall, her hair still pulled into the same tight bun she’s worn for years.

"Good morning, Omegas of Alma," she announces into the microphone.

"Good morning to you too, Headmistress Cleovera," we reply in unison.

"Before we begin today’s agenda, stand tall, ladies. You must say your pledges."

We all know them by heart, though the boards on the sides of the hall display them for the younger girls.

"The pledges of the Omegas of Alma. One: I will love my fellow Omega and stand with them, not against them. Two: I will be kind and strong when I have to be. Three: My heart will remain pure and rid of the evils of this world. Four: I will fulfill my duties as an Omega. Five: I will put myself and another Omega first before my pack and children. Six: I will never be the cause of pain toward another Omega. Seven: I will protect my Omega sisters and family. These are pledges I take to my death. Even after I leave Alma, my pledges will remain."

"Good. Remember your pledges. You may all be seated," Headmistress says, and we sit, posture perfect, hearts pounding with anticipation.

"I have an announcement I’d like to make," she says, and I clasp my hands together, trying to hold back my excitement.

"We have a class that has reached the age of twenty, and as per Omega law it is time for them to find a pack. Class Maldow, headed by Arabella Young of Alma, will be graduating from the academy."

Yes. There it is. I can barely contain my smile. The hall breaks out in claps, the sound echoing against the stone walls. I’m over the moon. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alma. I could stay here forever without complaint. But I want more. I want a pack. I want a family that will love me. I’ve never met an Alpha or a pack, but my expectations are sky‑high after all the lessons we’ve had about them, and from the glowing reviews of the Omegas who graduated a couple years ago.

"Class Maldow, all eleven of you will attend this year’s annual Omega debut gala. I suggest you find your pack there, because all the honorable and respectable packs from across the world will be present. If you do not, you will have another chance next year. But if you fail again, the council will assign you a pack by force, unless you choose to serve Alma for the rest of your life and never take a mate."

Her words blur in my ears. I fade out most of what she says, focusing on one thing—the gala. Everything I’ve dreamed of is within reach. I’m finally living my dream.

"I bet I’m going to get the best pack," Vanya whispers, leaning closer.

I roll my eyes. "Not happening. I’m definitely getting the best pack, whichever it may be." I toss my hair back smugly.

"None of you will get the best pack. It’s obvious Arabella will, without even trying," Susie says, laughing at our foolishness.

She’s right, though. Arabella will get the best pack, and that’s fine. She deserves it. I can settle for second.

I smile to myself as my eyes catch that light pink shimmer at the front. I remember how hard I tried to convince her not to dye her hair, but she didn’t listen. She insisted on adding color to herself. Arabella really loves color.