Rejected Omega Was Told to Sing the Luna Hymn as a Joke – But Her Voice Left the Alpha King Speechless

Standing at the Edge

Every night, Charles and I would go to the private courtyard. Every night, I would reach through our bond, feel his wolf, and attempt the transformation.

Every night, I would fail.

I could feel it now—that primal force waiting just beyond my reach. I could sense the shift beginning, bones preparing to reshape, instincts stirring—but I couldn’t complete it.

Something always held me back, some final barrier I couldn’t cross.

“It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff,”

I told Thera one afternoon. We’d become unlikely friends: the seasoned councilwoman and the wolfless queen.

“I can see where I need to go, but I can’t make myself jump.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to,”

Thera said thoughtfully.

Transcendental Mating Bonds

“Maybe the bond gives you access to his wolf, but you’re still fundamentally yourself—human, but connected to something greater.”

“That’s not enough. I want—”

I stopped, frustrated.

“What do you want, Catherine?”

“I want to run with him. To know what it feels like to be complete.”

“You are complete.”

Thera’s voice was sharp.

“You’re just fixated on what you lack instead of what you have. You can feel his wolf. You’re connected to Charles in ways that transcend normal mating bonds. You’re Luna Queen despite being wolfless. When will that be enough?”

Royal Intervention Required

Her words stung because they were true. I was letting this become an obsession, a marker of failure, when I should have been celebrating how far I’d come.

But I couldn’t let it go. The trouble started on a bright autumn morning.

A messenger arrived from the southern territories—one of the smaller packs, remote and often overlooked. Their Alpha had died and the pack was in chaos.

The messenger knelt in the snow-dusted courtyard.
His breath fogged in the crisp autumn air.

His cloak was torn.
His face was streaked with dirt and exhaustion.

“Your Majesties,” he gasped.
“The Southern Ridge Pack is fracturing.”

“Alpha Harlan is dead—no heirs, no clear successor.”

“Three challengers have already declared blood rights.”

“Rogues are pouring in from the wild territories, drawn by the chaos.”

“They’re burning villages.”

“If the pack falls, the entire southern border collapses.”

“The council begs royal intervention.”

Charles’s jaw tightened.

The Southern Ridge was small, poor, and proud.

It was exactly the kind of pack that resented central authority.

Sending troops would look like conquest.
Doing nothing would look like weakness.

He turned to me.

“Catherine?”

Everyone in the courtyard waited for my reaction.

This was the first true crisis of our reign.

It had landed squarely in my lap as much as his.

I stepped forward.

The weight of the moonstone ring on my finger grounded me.

“Send word to the challengers,” I said clearly.

“Tell them the king and queen will arrive in person within five days.”

“No royal guard beyond a small escort.”

“We come to witness the succession rite ourselves.”

“We will ensure it follows ancient law.”

The messenger’s eyes widened.

“Your Majesty… the roads are dangerous.”

“Rogues—”

“We are aware,” Charles cut in.

His voice was calm steel.

“Prepare fresh horses.”

“We leave at dawn.”

As the courtyard emptied, Charles pulled me aside.

“You’re sure about this?” he murmured.

“No army.”

“Just us.”

“I’m sure,” I said.

“If we march in with soldiers, we confirm every fear they have about the crown swallowing the small packs.”

“But if we come as witnesses—as equals—they’ll have to face us.”

“They’ll have to face what a wolfless Luna can do.”

He smiled, fierce and proud.

“Then let’s remind them why the moon goddess sent snow on our wedding day.”

The Journey South

We rode hard for four days.

We took only Charles, me, Thera (who refused to be left behind), Thomas, and a dozen trusted guards.

The closer we got to Southern Ridge, the worse the signs became.

Abandoned farms dotted the landscape.

Smoke rose on the horizon.

Refugee families fled north.

On the fifth morning, we crested a ridge.

We saw it—the pack’s central village nestled in a valley.

It was ringed by jagged mountains.

Half the buildings were charred.

Wolves prowled the streets in both forms.

Their eyes were wild with hunger and fear.

Three banners flew over the alpha’s longhouse.

Each claimed dominion.

The challengers had already begun.

We were met at the gates by a wall of snarling wolves.

No one bowed.

No one shifted to human form to greet their king.

Charles dismounted first.

He was calm and unafraid.

I followed.

My heart pounded, but my chin stayed high.

One massive gray wolf stepped forward.

His hackles were raised.

He shifted into a scarred, broad-shouldered man in his thirties—Rourke.

He was the strongest challenger, a warrior born.

“You’re late,” he growled.

“The rite has started.”

“Blood has already been spilled.”

“Then it stops now,” Charles said quietly.

Power rolled off him.

It was the integrated force of man and beast combined—no longer split, but twice as potent.

Every wolf in the square dropped their gaze involuntarily.

Rourke held out longest.

His teeth were bared.

“You bring no army.”

“Why should we listen?”

I stepped beside Charles.

“Because I’m going to finish the rite for you,” I said.

Silence fell.

Then laughter—harsh, disbelieving—rippled through the crowd.

“A wolfless female?” Rourke sneered.

“You’ll finish nothing but your own humiliation.”

I didn’t flinch.

“The ancient law states that when a pack has no clear heir, the succession rite may be settled by challenge of blood, strength, or wisdom.”

“You’ve chosen blood.”

“It’s tearing your pack apart.”

“I choose wisdom.”

Rourke’s eyes narrowed.

“And what wisdom could you possibly offer?”

“A test,” I said.

“One question.”

“One riddle.”

“The challenger who answers it correctly becomes alpha.”

“The others yield.”

“No more blood.”

More laughter came, but it was nervous now.

Charles’s voice cut through it.

“The queen has spoken.”

“By ancient law, the challenge of wisdom is valid.”

“Do you accept, or do you admit you fear a wolfless woman’s mind more than each other’s claws?”

Rourke flushed with rage.