The Blessed Omega

Isabella

"I will see you again next year, Mom," I whispered, my voice trembling as I stood before the small memorial I'd created for her. It wasn't much—just five white pebbles stacked in a tiny grave-like structure—but it was mine. A secret tribute shielded by the roots of an inconspicuously large tree, hidden deep within the woods.

The pebbles were unassuming, the kind anyone passing by would dismiss as the handiwork of a bored child. They came from the decorative path leading to a small pond at the pack's front zone—a pond that defied the harsh summers of our northern region by remaining damp year-round. It was a miracle amidst the arid land, a cherished spot known across the Lucian Pack.

That pond had been my mother's favorite place. She would take me there, her hand warm and steady in mine as we walked along the white-pebble path. I still remember the picnic we had there, her laughter ringing like a melody in the air. That memory, along with the pond, was sacred to me. That's why I chose those stones for her grave.

Except, this wasn't a real grave. My mother didn't have one anymore. Like her memory, her resting place had been destroyed—demolished on my father's orders.

I remember my grandparents fighting for her dignity. They begged my father to let them take her remains and bury her elsewhere if she wasn't wanted in the Lucian Pack's cemetery. But he refused. He was merciless, even toward grieving parents. And so, they had no choice but to watch helplessly as their daughter's grave was torn apart, her remains left to be discarded like they were nothing.

That day, I realized just how cruel my father was. He didn't just kill my mother—he erased her. He erased her existence from the pack, from history.

To the outside world, my mother was the Luna, the queen of the Lucian Pack. I was her daughter, the princess, and my grandparents should have been respected as royalty. Instead, we were treated like outcasts, trampled beneath the weight of my father's cruelty.

At first, the pack members were shocked. They couldn't understand why their alpha would desecrate his mate's memory. Whispers spread that perhaps he had gone mad with grief. But I knew better. He was far too sane.

He made sure I understood that when he drowned me in a bath laced with wolfsbane, punishing me for crying over her. Each time, his words cut deeper than the poison burning my skin:

"You should join her in hell."

"You're an abomination to Lucian. I have no daughter."

He loved himself so much he often spoke of himself in third person, like he was a god.

My grandparents tried to protect me where they could, but they were powerless against the alpha. They couldn't even protect themselves. Over time, the punishments wore down the pack. My mother's name became a forbidden word, her memory a death sentence. And so, people chose to forget.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Her memory was all I had left. Every year, I returned to this hidden spot in the woods. Here, I could grieve in secret. Here, I could remember her.

I glanced at the five stacked stones one last time, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. The small structure was a replica of her original grave—a defiant recreation of what my father had destroyed. It wasn't just a place for me to honor her; it was a symbol of resistance against the man who had taken everything from me.

Brushing the leaves from my gray sweatpants, I stood and inhaled deeply. The cold autumn air stung my lungs, but it also fortified my resolve. This was just the beginning.

"Rest easy, Mom," I whispered. "They may have erased you, but I never will. Not ever."

And as I walked away from the little grave, I knew one thing for sure: one day, the man who had built his kingdom on fear would feel the weight of my defiance. One day, I would reclaim everything he'd stolen from me.