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

Uncertain Truth

Did I look forward to nights with the beast because of genuine affection, or because the challenge was engaging? Was any of this real, or just two broken people clinging to each other in the dark?

“I don’t know,”

I admitted finally.

“I care about you, both of you. I look forward to our time together. I’m happier here than I’ve ever been. But love…”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know if I trust myself to recognize it. Everything I’ve ever felt has been tangled up with survival and desperation.”

Instead of looking hurt, Charles smiled.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being honest. For not pretending to feel something you don’t just to make this easier.”

He stood, moving to the window.

“I’d rather have your uncertain truth than a comfortable lie.”

Worth the Split

I joined him at the window, looking out over the city.

“What if I never know? What if I care but it’s never enough to break the curse?”

“Then we keep going anyway,”

he turned to face me.

“Because even if the curse never breaks, even if I’m split forever, these weeks with you have been worth it. You’ve given me something I thought I’d lost: the ability to hope.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s more than I had before.”

We stood there, close enough to touch but not touching, both of us suspended in possibility and fear.

“Tonight,”

I said finally.

“The beast promised to tell me the answer to the first riddle. The one about being given but never taken.”

“I know the answer,”

Charles said quietly.

“You do?”

“We’re the same soul, remember? What he knows, I know.”

He hesitated.

“Are you ready to hear it?”

The Meaning of the Promise

I asked the riddle; I should be ready for the answer. But my heart was hammering because something about his expression told me this answer would change everything.

That evening, I descended to the underground chamber with a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. The beast was waiting, already transformed, pacing its cage with unusual agitation.

“Songbird,”

it rumbled when it saw me.

“You came.”

“I always come.”

“Tonight is different.”

The beast settled onto the floor, eyes burning with intensity.

“Tonight, I give you the answer and you decide what it means.”

I sat in my corner, journal forgotten.

“I’m listening.”

“The riddle: I am given but never taken. I can be broken but never held. I bind two souls but have no form. What am I?”

“Tell me.”

“A promise.”

Binding Without Chains

The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

“A promise,”

I repeated slowly.

“Given freely, broken by choice, binding without chains.”

“The king gave you a promise ring,”

the beast continued.

“Said it was a symbol of agreement, protection, and education in exchange for your presence. But that’s not what it really means, is it?”

My throat tightened.

“What does it mean?”

“It means he promised to see you, to value you, to give you the one thing you’d been denied your entire life: the acknowledgement that you matter.”

The beast’s eyes glowed brighter.

“And you promised in return to stay, to witness him—all of him, both halves—without running, without judgment.”

“That’s just an arrangement.”

“No, songbird. It’s a promise. And promises are the oldest magic.”

Choice Repeated Over and Over

The beast moved closer to the bars.

“When I asked you that riddle on the first night, I was really asking: Do you understand what you’re entering into? Do you know what it means to promise yourself to someone like us?”

“I didn’t promise myself.”

“You did,”

the beast’s voice was certain.

“The moment you put on that ring, the moment you chose to return night after night. Promises don’t need words, Catherine. They just need choice—repeated over and over until it becomes truth.”

I stared at the moonstone on my finger, seeing it differently now. It was not just a symbol of protection, but a vow I’d been making every day without fully realizing it.

“I’m afraid,”

I whispered.

“Of me?”

“Of this. Of wanting something this much. Of hoping it could be real and finding out it’s just another fantasy I’ve built to make my life bearable.”

The Beast’s Truth

The beast was quiet for a long moment.

“Do you want to know what I am, Catherine? What I really am?”

“You’re the beast. The cursed half.”

“I’m his heart,”

the beast interrupted.

“Everything he feels but won’t let himself express. Every soft emotion, every desperate longing, every moment of vulnerability… that’s me.”

“He thinks I’m the monster, but I’m not rage and violence. I’m love that has nowhere to go.”

My breath caught.

“So when I tell you that we love you,”

the beast continued,

“I’m not speaking for him. I’m not separate. I’m the part of him that knows how to feel it fully, without the armor of logic and reason.”

It pressed close to the bars, as near as the magic would allow.

“He loves you with his mind. I love you with everything else. Together, we love you wholly.”