The Cursed Heiress

POV: Silver Colt

“I was born the day my father died—and my mother never forgave me for surviving.”

They told the story every year on the anniversary of his death. Not because they mourned him, but because they always found fun making fun of me. To remind me why I existed.

The rogue ambush came at dawn—my father, Alpha Daxton Colt, was ripped apart before he could draw his last breath. And somewhere deep in the chaos that filled the pack, my mother screamed into the night, going through hard birth labor. That birth unfortunately was me. 

Pack wolves always reference the scene as being the most tragic and horrible child birth the pack had ever witnessed.

She lived just long enough to look at me once.

And then… she turned her face away.

Even now, eighteen years later, I can still feel the coldness in her gaze.

“A cursed child,” they whispered.

“A bad fruit from a good tree.”

“I bet she has no wolf in her blood.”

I became the ghost of the Moonveil Pack—always present, but never seen. Alive, but never wanted.

“Silver! You deaf little mutt, she said scrub that floor until I can see myself reflect like a mirror!”

Amara, the head of kitchen staff, towered over me with a wooden ladle in her hand and spite in her eyes. Her voice alone could curdle milk. I clenched my jaw, dipped the rag in the freezing water, and kept scrubbing.

The cold seeped into my bones like it always did. There were no fires for Omegas. Our rooms as slaves lacked vent which could regulate cold and heat. 

The omega treat was simple-stone floors, sour soup, and eyes that never looked at you—unless it was to spit.

“Honestly, how did someone like you survive birth?” she muttered, stepping over me like I was the dirt she walked on.

I remained silent, because giving Amara a reply meant you were the unluckiest wolf that day. That was the rule. Omegas didn’t speak unless spoken to. And even then… silence was till preferred.

But my hands trembled.

Because tomorrow, I would be turning eighteen for good.

And that meant everything would change… or absolutely nothing would. I will just keep staying at best from then on—do what I love best by reading when I have to, visit the garden and gain a little respect from fellow pack wolves. 

Unlike the documentaries and stories I had read about other packs, the Moonveil pack was a different one. It was said that an omega who clocks eighteen automatically becomes a gamma, and also is fated to his/her mate on that day.

“I will be quick with the cleaning madam Amara,” my voice wasn’t budging. 

“You disgust me, Silver or whatever you call yourself,” she spat, “All your days have been a slow one, right from your birth. That was why your mum couldn’t stand your existence.” 

Not again! Back to same birth story. 

After hours of chores, I slipped away to the cliffside meadow overlooking the entire banks of Silverglen River. It was the only place in the pack where the trees whispered instead of cursed.

The wind was sharp, but I welcomed it because it was something I always wanted. Pain, I had learned, meant you were still alive.

“You always come here when you're sad.” The voice echoed from behind, startling me.

I turned. And for a moment—just a heartbeat—I forgot to breathe.

“Tristan?” I whispered.

He stood a few feet away, taller now, broader. The soft freckles on his nose were gone, replaced by a thin scar over his cheek. But the eyes… they were the same.

The kind eyes that once protected me from the bullies in the training yard. “You remember me,” he said, smiling faintly.

“What makes you think I can forget you,” a small smirk tugged my lips.

He stepped closer, his expression shadowed. “I heard you're turning eighteen.”

I nodded. “Ya. Tomorrow.”

“Awwnn! The girl is becoming a woman,” he teased, “Have you felt her yet?”

“Her?”

“Your wolf.”

I paused. “No. But… something's been happening. I recently started feeling my skin tingle. My chest tightens for no reason. I’ve been dreaming in colors I’ve never seen before.”

He nodded slowly. “She's close. Be ready, Silver. You might think you’re cursed, but the Moon chooses carefully.”

“You will never change, Tristan,” I said, parting his arm, “Stop this parables of yours before it lands you into trouble.”

“This is no trouble my friend, you are just about getting something many cry and kill to get, Silver.” 

“I pretend I didn’t hear that, before it gets to the ears of Amara.” 

His words lingered long after he walked away.

That night, I lay on my cot in the servants' quarters, staring at the wooden roof above me, listening to the snores of fellow outcasts.

Something pulsed beneath my skin, something like pressure.

A heartbeat that wasn’t mine, and in the darkness, I heard her voice.

Not in words, but in growls.

In whispers that made my blood ache.

“Hi, my name is Zorry. Your wolf for life.” 

*******

The morning sun burned red when I came out from the quarters. As if the heavens knew something I didn’t. I felt like a new being, the usual cold breeze now turned hot on my skin.

“Silver!” a familiar voice called. This could only be one person. 

I darted my eyes to confirm my doubts. It was Amelia. Of course, she was.

Wrapped in a golden-colored gown that fitted her curvy frame, her golden hair pinned like a crown around her cruel, perfect face. She was her mother’s favorite. The pack’s pride. The heir to everything I had never been allowed to dream of.

“I am sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Still alive?” she said, sipping from the silver tea cup she was holding, as if it offended her that I still drew breathe.

I didn’t respond.

Her eyes narrowed. “You think turning eighteen will change anything? You’ll still be the pathetic little ghost in rags, washing my panties and watching me be chosen.”

My throat tightened. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said sweetly. “Do you want to know why, dear sister?”

I froze. That word—sister—was acid in her mouth.

She stepped closer. “Because even if the Moon goddess has a cruel sense of humor and gives you a wolf, no Alpha will ever want you. Especially not Volvo.”

The name alone sent a tremor through me, “I don’t want your Volvo or whatever you call him.” 

“I can see it in your eyes. Your stealth desires to make him choose you,” She paused, “Wait a minute. Why am I wasting time with you lunatic. I can stake my life that no Alpha can accept an omega as mate, not the less a cheap, cursed ghost.” 

I tried to hold my feet in place as the words pierced my chest like a cursed blade. I remained silent to avoid a slap from those itching hands of Amelia. 

“Say something bitch.” 

“I don’t have…..” my words were intercepted by the hard landing of her palms on my cheeks. 

“How foolish you are. If I had instructed you to drown in a river, you would take the dive,” she sneered. 

“Cursed mutt,” she spat. “Now say thank you miss Amelia for helping me.” 

For a flick moment, I hesitated, “Thank you miss Amelia for helping me.”

As for Volvo Blackwood, the future Alpha of the Slaw Crest Pack. The one all the girls fought over. The one Amelia claimed would be hers.

He barely knew I existed, not the less give me a chance to be his chosen.

And maybe that was for the best.

“You know nothing about the bond, Amelia.” I whispered, my palms still on my cheeks.

Amelia leaned in. “The brave mutt still has the guts to talk back at me,” she smiled “Anyways, for your information; I know enough to say this—you’ll never be Luna. You’ll never even be loved. The only thing you're good for, Silver, is making the rest of us look better.”

Then she turned and walked away, her laughter echoing like a death knell.

By noon, the pack square was swarming.

Decorations. Fire pits. Celebration preparations.

The Moonrise Festival and more excitingly—it was my eighteenth birthday.

And my rebirth… if the goddess allowed it.

I stood at the edge of the ceremonial ground, unseen, hands trembling.

I felt something inside me stirred. “What is happening to me, Zorry.” 

“It’s something deep, Silver.” My wolf said. 

As seconds pass, the heat, the fire, the bones shifting. Muscles pulling tight.

I cringed, hand clutching my chest.

She’s coming…

My vision blurred. A low snarl echoed in my mind. “You should calm down, Silver. I am trying to connect with the spirit.” 

And from across the square, Elder Mira turned to me, her blind eyes suddenly glowing.

She walked toward me, moving faster than her cane should allow.

She touched my cheek. “Silver Colt. The Cursed child born under the Blood Moon eighteen years ago.”

Her lips moved but I saw was the Moon goddess speaking. 

“It's time for your awakening.”

“And the world is not ready for you.”