The Cry of a Lycan

ENISA POV

Moonstone pack

My life has become quite an irony from what I expected.

I never imagined I would be reduced to an ordinary omega servant within the very walls I once called my own. It happened swiftly, so swiftly I barely understood.

And before I could grasp the truth, it had already become my worst nightmare.

The signs had been there all along, staring me in the face. I chose not to see them.

Now, it is too late. I bear the weight of that neglect, and it's killing me slowly.

I could have stopped it. I had the chance.

It was my mistake…no, it was Father's.

****************

A thin blade of sunlight slipped through the cracked window frame and settled over my eyelids, tugging me from sleep.

I blinked against the light, lashes fluttering as the room came slowly into focus.

Strange, that the sun was greeting me so very early in the morning.

My gaze snapped to the ticking clock nailed crookedly to a dilapidated wall, and I felt my blood pressure rise and my pulse rate skyrocket when I read the time.

“Good heavens!

The words came out breathless as I threw the covers aside. I sprang out of the bed in the blur of the moment, running my hands through my thick wavy hair as I shuffled across the room.

“How is this possible?"

I panted, snatching a dress from the loose nail beside the withered wardrobe.

Sprinting into the bathroom to take a shower, it took me just a few minutes, and I was out, fumbling into a dress, almost losing my footing in the haste.

This was bad, very bad. I had never let this happen before. I must have overslept.

I went to bed the night before utterly drained, my body still aching from the relentless tasks the other maids had piled up for me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been awake by precisely five. Now, the clock read half past nine.

It was nothing short of a miracle I was still lying there, breathing in my sleep. If my stepmother had her way…if she so much as learned of this. I had no doubt the punishment awaiting me would be more devastating than the last.

I paused before the mirror, if the cracked thing could still be called that, and exhaled slowly.

Truly, I treasured the days when I used to be clothed in jewels and clothes befitting my status, but those days are gone. They felt like someone else’s memories.

Now I see myself, shrouded in a maid's uniform, day after day, night after night, a life reduced to a miserable repetition.

A sudden knock shattered the moment.

“Enisa!”

The voice cut through the door, Madame Ginger. Head of the maid quarters. A woman who seemed to rise each morning, always burdened with irritation.

“Enisa, you had better not be sleeping in there!”

“I’m awake—just a moment!” I said, fingers working quickly over the stubborn buttons.

It was almost laughable, in a bitter sort of way. Once, a maid would have woken me, dressed me, and prepared me for the day.

Fine gowns, glittering jewels, hollow smiles at lavish gatherings.

Now, I wake myself before dawn, dressed in rags only to change into a maid's uniform after a shower, then go about my day scrubbing and cleaning until it is midnight, then go back to bed.

It's quite funny how I survived like this; I was being treated like a servant or even worse. It has always been like this since Iris was born; nobody really cared about me.

I have heard that many people talk behind my back. My mother's maternal family, they have all turned against me, leaving me for these wolves, who I call my family, to feast on, like a sacrificial lamb.

My mother was a concubine who had quickly risen to glory; an ‘oracle of beauty,' she was called, and then she had me, without officiating her marriage to my father.

Now nobody sees me as anything but an illegitimate wolf, and as such, I am called a worthless omega. Oh, how the great have fallen!

That wasn't enough; the wolf goddess hasn't had her spectacle full yet, so she brought Iris into my life, my stepsister, whose mother my father wedded.

Somehow she snatched everything away from me: my fame, my spotlight, and most importantly, my father's love.

He dotes on her so much; one could see the difference in the way he treats her and me. She has this spot in his heart that I can never replace, and so I wonder, will I ever get a father's love again?

I opened the door, only to meet the deep gaze of Madame Ginger. I ignored her and went straight to my duty post, which was the kitchen.

I could hear giggles coming from the dining room.

By now the royal family would be seated at the dining table and having a feast.

I called it a feast because they always ask the maids to prepare a lot of food, which eventually goes to waste. They would sit at the table laughing, jeering at my nerves, reminding me every single morning of my place.

"Guess what, darling?" Father's voice trailed off from across the dining room.

The foamy sponge I was using to wash the dishes ceased for barely a moment, my ears perking up to hear what he had to say.

“I’m hosting your eighteenth birthday celebration,” he continued, a note of satisfaction threading his tone. “And Prince Zaden will be our special guest.”

For a moment, there was silence.

"Oh my goodness, really!

Iris's scream pierced the air; Iris’s shriek cut through the air, sharp enough to make me wince. I pressed my lips together, resuming the slow motion of scrubbing, though my attention remained fixed on every word.

“Will Prince Zaden truly attend my birthday?”

She asked, maybe for confirmation or just to hear the words again come from Father's lips, and Father made it his duty to answer her.

"Yes, dear,” Father replied. “And more than that—he has proposed a contract marriage with one of my daughters.”

Another excited scream followed, and I was forced to roll my eyes.

"My goodness, I can't believe I will finally be getting to meet him, the charming Alpha prince."

Iris's voice had a dreamy likeness to it, and I didn’t need to see her to know she was glowing with delight.

“How fortunate,” Vedica’s voice followed calmly. “And how exactly did you manage to secure the prince’s attention?”

“Secure?” Father gave a low chuckle. “The Alpha prince is not a man swayed by charm or wealth alone. There is more to this arrangement… though I have yet to uncover it.”

A brief pause.

“Regardless,” Vedica said lightly, “this calls for celebration.”

I could only imagine the way her green eyes would be gleaming darkly, like the negative energy that always surrounded her.

“Oh no… I don’t have anything suitable to wear,” Iris murmured, her tone dipping into a delicate complaint. “None of my dresses will do.”

I almost scoffed aloud. Her wardrobes overflowed with garments she had never once worn.

“I, too, will require something new,” my stepmother said indifferently, as though it were some kind of decree.

“Arrangements have already been made,” Father assured them. “You will both travel to the capital. I’m certain you’ll find whatever pleases you there.”

“Father, you’re the best,” Iris breathed.

Their voices faded into excited speculation, decorations, guests, and the spectacle it would all become.

I signed as I resumed the dishwashing in the kitchen.

Unfortunately for me, my father had forgotten about my birthday, which was months ago. He must be so bitter about me that he didn't spare me an ounce of affection.

He has never thrown a birthday party for me; I doubt that would ever happen.

It was a wonder I wasn't walking around without clothes on.

The only clothes I could boast of were the ones Iris handed down to me.

The dresses are too tight at the seams and too short at the hem. Remnants of what she had already discarded.

And even those, I rarely wore, because all day long I am made to wear this horrid maid uniform.

As though to fuel the tempest in me, she would tell me to my face that little, mean thing called Iris would say the uniform fits me so well!

I rinsed the last plate, setting it aside with care, though my thoughts had begun to drift.

Prince Zaden.

I have heard a lot about him; words do go around—his lineage, the sheer dominance of the Silverstone pack. A force to be reckoned with.

His presence at Iris’s celebration would elevate everything. Our pack would bask in borrowed prestige.

He is the next Alpha of the Silverstone pack, a very powerful and dreadful pack, well known for its warriors.

My father happened to be the alpha of the Moonstone pack; there are tales that he has his late brother's blood on his hand, Gideon, if I remember the name correctly.

For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to imagine it, standing where Iris stood.

Adorned in silk and gold. Seen. Chosen. Valued.

The image dissolved almost as quickly as it formed.

My reality did not permit such thoughts.

"Enisa!"

My name jolted me back from my train of thoughts, and I blinked a few times before coming to a realization: it was Father who had called out to me.

I paused what I was doing, slowly withdrawing my hand from the sink. I wiped it dry with a napkin before proceeding to take a step forward.

My legs were a bit wobbly; I was terribly anxious.

Why was he calling me?

Did I do something wrong?

Have I offended anyone?”

These were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I advanced towards the main dining room.

It has been days since he last called my name; what could be so important? He barely ever remembers me; I thought I was dead to him.

The memory of that last time he called my name lingered unpleasantly.

I was locked up for three days in the dungeon because Iris claimed I purposely spiced her food to kill her. That doesn't even make any sense. Why would I want to kill her by spicing her food?

I wasn’t even permitted near the preparation of her meals.

Fidgeting a little, I tried to compose myself as I took a stance before my father, a short distance from the table.

“Must she stare so brazenly?” Vedica murmured. “Lower your eyes, girl.”

She said, her gaze rummaging me like a piece of dirt.

“She doesn’t even carry herself like a proper maid."

Iris's face twisted into dismay; the fork she was about to use to pick up her vegetables hung limply in the air.

"Hhm-hm-hm."

Father cleared his voice, and silence returned. Taking a glass of water in his left hand, he tilted his head slightly in my direction.

Whatever softness had existed moments ago was gone.

“Enisa,” he said evenly, “you will accompany your mother and sister to the capital. You may… acquire something suitable for yourself as well. l

“Sister…Mother?”

I scoffed inwardly. Was this some kind of joke?

But then I processed his words completely and realized he had actually just said something meaningful.

Unsure I had heard correctly, I repeated his words.

“Going to the capitals?”

He hummed, dropping his gaze, and for a moment I was in a daze.

Maybe... just maybe there was hope for me after all.

“Don't be ridiculous, Father.”

Iris laughed as she wiped her mouth with the napkin on the table, her tone dismissive.

“Since when do servants indulge in luxury? It’s improper. Enisa will not be coming with us.”

‘Iris…”

Father began in a calm tone.

“The Alpha specifically requested to see both my daughters," he explained as his gaze returned to me. “I will not disregard his wishes.

A pause.

“It would reflect poorly on me if she were presented in rags.”

I almost laughed at his words, a painful laughter it would have been.

At that moment I felt so bitter; of course he had known that all this while I had never been given anything proper to wear, yet he ignored it anyways.

“Although it is a sour thought, I am afraid your father is right, Iris; she must accompany us.”

Vedica shuddered at the mere thought; the food she was chewing must have hung in her throat, because immediately after she had finished talking, she downed a cup of water and still proceeded to pour herself some more.

Iris’s gaze slid over me, slow and assessing, before her lips curved faintly.

“She’ll wear my dress.”

The words landed with quiet finality, and I blinked.

“What?”