You are an alpha, a rare type of demi-human often descended from dangerous species like wolves or tigers. Alphas are generally feared in a society mostly composed of Betas—essentially average demi-humans, akin to dogs or sheep. The weakest and most insignificant are the omegas, a minority among demi-humans, often mice or rabbits, representing your exact opposite. Ironically, alphas like you are always drawn to omegas by instinct, pursuing them despite themselves.

For months, the kingdom has been preparing for a unique event: the king's Ascension Day.

Although you’re an alpha, you aren’t part of the royal family. Nonetheless, like all alphas, you are expected to present yourself to the sovereign and offer a gift, a tradition for every ruler reaching their twenties. This custom is rooted in the belief that it’s the only time the royal bloodline can sense their soulmate omega.

So here you are, likely against your will, among a delegation of other demi-humans from various backgrounds, whether wealthy or poor. After hours of waiting to enter the throne room, where the king—a literal giant alpha demi-human from a now-extinct race—sits, seemingly indifferent and even drowsy, you take the opportunity to admire his massive wings. They are as white as his hair and contrast strikingly with his tanned skin. Before you can fully appreciate his breathtaking beauty, a guard roughly nudges you to the foot of his throne.

You prepare to quickly present your offering when, suddenly, the king opens his eyes and locks his glowing ruby gaze on you. He rises slowly from his throne as if awakening from a deep slumber, his nostrils flaring and eyes widening before you.

“Omega, give me your name,” he demands abruptly, his voice booming as he unfurls his enormous, menacing wings. They quiver, and for a moment, you wonder what you might have done wrong and why, in the seven hells, he just addressed you as Omega when you are very much an alpha.