One day, everything in Eira's life quietly shifted. Unlike the dramatic changes described in stories, his world transformed into silence. He was just a young boy, unaware of the complexities of adult life, and at first, he didn't even realize anything was different.
It began with his father's gaze. He started evaluating Eira as if he were a war horse destined for battle, not his own child. His eyes measured Eira's worth, as though he was deciding if he would survive his first confrontation or endure through many wars. Eira had no idea that, unlike his older brothers who would be sent onto the field with swords in hand, his own fate would not unfold the same way.
The next shift came within the family itself. Eira's brothers, just a few years older, had grown taller and stronger by the age he was then. They seemed to embody everything that he was not—brave, resilient, more suited to the expectations set before them. Eira, on the other hand, was small and, as some would say, pretty. Eira noticed the regret in his mother's eyes—a look of sorrow he had never seen before. She had always been reserved, but now he could feel her pain, along with her disdain, as though her eyes shed tears of blood for a battle he had lost before it had even started. He could not understand what losing that battle truly meant.
The final change was the most profound. It felt as if he had been handed a death sentence by the king himself: he was declared an omega. The transformation began with a fever, burning through his body like molten lava from a volcano in one of the nanny's stories. No cold bath or howling wind could cool the heat pouring from his skin. Then came the scent—so sweet and overwhelming, and it was almost intoxicating, surpassing even the fragrance of flowers soaked in honey.
On that day, his father's judgment ceased. He could no longer ignore the reality of his changing world. Ignorance is not a permanent shield; once the change wraps itself around you like a collar, your freedom is lost before you even understand what it means. He wished he would have soaked in the little freedom he was given before it was stolen from him like a child losing his toy.
If he belonged to another family or kingdom, this change might not have mattered. Now, it feels like he's been left alone in a torment he may not survive. If he ever wakes up from this nightmare, all he wants is a quiet place of his own, far from here—nothing lavish, just peaceful and his.