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

A Symbol of Protection

He studied me for a long moment, then slowly, he smiled—a real smile, the first I’d seen from him.

“That’s your price? Knowledge?”

“That’s my price.”

He picked up the ring, turning it over in his fingers.

“This isn’t a mating bond. It’s a promise ring, a symbol of agreement between us. You wear it, and every wolf in this palace knows you’re under my direct protection—that no one touches you, speaks against you, or harms you in any way.”

“In return?”

“In return, I stay with you at night and I try not to run. And during the day, I teach you.”

He extended the ring toward me.

“Do we have an accord?”

I looked at the moonstone gleaming silver-white like captured starlight. This was insane, dangerous, and the first time in my entire life someone had offered me value beyond my body or my bloodline.

I held out my hand. He slipped the ring onto my finger—my right hand, not my left, because this wasn’t a marriage.

It was something else, something undefined. The metal was warm from his touch; it fit perfectly.

The Truth of the Night

“There’s one more thing,”

he said quietly, his hand still holding mine.

“Before you agree, you should know what you’re truly facing. Words don’t… words don’t capture it.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes darkened.

“You’ll regret that request.”

“Show me anyway.”

He released my hand and stepped back.

“Very well. Tonight, after sundown, I’ll have Thomas bring you to my chambers. You’ll see what I become, and then…”

He paused.

“Then you’ll decide if you can truly do this.”

“I’ve already decided.”

“You haven’t,”

he interrupted gently.

“You’ve decided based on my human face and a promise of books. Wait until you see the truth. Then choose.”

The Night Chamber

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Thomas gave me new quarters—a small but private room on the upper level with a real bed and a window that overlooked the gardens.

It was more luxury than I’d ever known. The servants whispered as I passed, staring at the ring on my finger.

I spent the afternoon in the library, running my fingers along leather spines and breathing in the scent of old paper and possibility. The king didn’t appear; apparently, he spent his afternoons in strategy meetings, managing the complex politics of holding a kingdom together while cursed.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold, Thomas appeared at the library door.

“It’s time,”

he said quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Already?”

“Sunset comes fast this time of year.”

His expression was kind but serious.

“Remember, Catherine, the king is bound. The magic holds. You’re not in true danger as long as you stay calm.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m convinced the magic works. I’m less convinced that seeing what he becomes won’t break you anyway.”

Entering the Cage

He led me down, down, down—back into the underground, but deeper this time. We went past the kitchens, past the servants’ quarters, into sections I hadn’t seen before.

The stone here was darker, ancient, carved with symbols that made my eyes hurt to look at directly. We stopped before a door unlike any other: black iron reinforced with silver, covered in glowing runes that pulsed with their own light.

“Beyond this door is the king’s night chamber,”

Thomas explained.

“Once you enter, the door seals until dawn. You cannot leave. He cannot leave. Whatever happens in there stays in there until sunlight breaks the spell.”

My hand was shaking; I clasped it behind my back.

“There’s a stool, a water pitcher, and a blanket inside. Stay in the corner farthest from the cage. Don’t approach the bars. Don’t speak unless he speaks first—though honestly, he probably won’t be capable of speech.”

Thomas’s expression was grave.

“And whatever you do, don’t show fear. Fear triggers the predator instinct.”

“Don’t show fear,”

I repeated.

“While locked in a room with a monster. That should be easy.”

He almost smiled.

“The king believes you’re different… that you might survive this. I hope he’s right because…”

He sighed.

“Because he deserves peace. And if anyone can give it to him, maybe it’s someone who understands what it’s like to be seen as a monster.”

The Beast Emerges

Before I could respond, the door swung open. The chamber beyond was large—thirty feet across, maybe more.

Half of it was normal stone floor; the other half was enclosed by a massive cage made of the same silver-etched iron as the door. And inside the cage, still human, stood the king.

He’d changed into simple clothes: loose pants, no shirt. His hair was already wild, his eyes fevered.

When he saw me, something flickered across his face—relief, regret, both.

“You came,”

he said, his voice rougher than before.

“I gave my word.”

“You can still leave. Thomas, take her—”

“No.”

I stepped fully into the chamber. Behind me, I heard the door swing shut and the locks engage.

“I’m staying.”

The king gripped the bars of his cage, and I saw his knuckles were already shifting—bones moving under skin, nails lengthening into claws.

“It’s starting,”

he gritted out.

“Catherine, listen to me. Whatever I say, whatever I do… I’m not fully myself. The beast thinks differently. It knows I want something, but it doesn’t understand what. It might try to—”

He cut off with a gasp, doubling over. I watched in horror as his body began to change.

There was nothing clean or natural about it, unlike a wolf shift. His spine arched at an impossible angle, his bones cracked and reformed, and his skin rippled like something was trying to escape from inside.

The First Riddle

He screamed. The sound wasn’t human or wolf; it was something caught between, something in agony.

I pressed myself against the far wall, heart hammering, as the king disappeared and the beast emerged. It was massive—seven feet tall even hunched over—covered in dark fur that seemed to absorb light.

Its face was wolf-like but wrong, too intelligent, too aware. Its eyes glowed the same storm-gray as the king’s, but feral, burning with barely contained violence.

It was staring directly at me. The beast circled inside its cage, movements liquid and predatory.

Then it spoke, and oh god, it could speak. Its voice was a gravelly rumble that resonated in my chest.

“Little songbird… you stayed.”

I couldn’t answer; I could barely breathe. It pressed against the bars, testing them.

The silver sizzled against its skin, but it didn’t pull back.

“I can smell your fear. It tastes like honey and thunder.”

“I’m not afraid,”

I lied, my voice barely a whisper. The beast laughed, a terrible sound.

“Liar. But a brave liar.”

It tilted its head, studying me.

“He wants you to love us. Both of us. As if anyone could love this.”

“What do you want?”

I managed to ask. The beast went very still, then slowly, it sank into a crouch, still staring at me through the bars.

“Tell me a riddle.”

A Survival Strategy

Of all the things I expected, that wasn’t it.

“What?”

“A riddle. A puzzle. A question with no easy answer.”

Its eyes gleamed.

“If you want to survive the night, little songbird, give me something to think about instead of how breakable you are.”

My mind raced. A riddle? It wanted a riddle.

Suddenly, I remembered. I remembered the stories I used to write—the fairy tales where clever girls survived impossible situations with their wits instead of their strength.

I took a shaky breath.

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

The beast’s eyes narrowed. It rose, pacing the cage, muscles rippling under fur.

“Clever,”

it growled.

“Giving me a puzzle when you’re the puzzle I’m trying to solve.”