The kingdom of Thalevoria lay cloaked in the golden hues of dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting a warm glow over the sprawling landscape. Majestic mountains bordered the horizon, their peaks dusted with the remnants of winter snow. The royal palace, a marvel of architecture, towered over the capital, its white marble façade glinting like a beacon of hope.
Thalevoria stretched across a vast, fertile land, its wealth built on the backs of its people and the rich resources of its soil. For centuries, the kingdom had thrived under the rule of the Zodros dynasty, and now, all eyes were on Prince Thereth, the youngest son, chosen by the gods themselves to ascend to the throne.
The selection of a mate had long been a tradition within Thalevoria. It was not merely about love or companionship. The mate of the crown Prince would be queen and share in the rule of the kingdom. The gods had blessed him with strength and power, but the people believed that a true king required balance—someone who could challenge him, complement his might with wisdom, and temper his authority with empathy.
As the youngest of King Zodros's many children, born to the late Queen Elara, Thereth was the last one anyone had expected to be chosen. He was not the firstborn, nor the most politically connected, yet the gods had spoken through the royal oracle, leaving the kingdom with no choice but to accept his destiny. His siblings had been consumed with envy ever since.
____
In the grand hall of Thalevoria's royal palace, a quiet tension filled the air, thick as the golden tapestries that lined the walls. The hall was a spectacle of wealth—vaulted ceilings carved with intricate patterns, polished marble floors that stretched endlessly, and the throne of King Zodros, raised high upon a platform of gleaming obsidian. Seated on it was the king, his deep-set eyes sweeping the council of Elders before him. His decision had been made, but the storm of dissent had only just begun.
From his vantage point beside the king, Prince Thereth observed the scene, his face impassive as the elders exchanged wary glances. The youngest son of King Zodros had grown accustomed to these subtle rebellions. Even now, as his father prepared to announce his participation in the ancient Selection, Thereth could feel their disapproval as palpably as the chill in the air.
"Today, we honor the tradition set forth by our ancestors," the king's voice boomed, reverberating across the hall. "The time has come for my son, Prince Thereth, to choose his mate, as is the will of the gods."
There it was—the formal announcement that set the council on edge. Prince Thereth felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders, but he maintained his stoic demeanor. His brothers would not show weakness, and neither would he.
An uneasy murmur rippled through the gathered Elders, a select group of royal advisors who had long served the crown. They were respected, wise, and unafraid to speak their minds. At the forefront stood Elder Varyn, the eldest and most outspoken of them all. His brow furrowed, lips thin with disapproval.
"Your Majesty," Varyn began, his voice steady yet laced with concern, "is the Selection truly necessary in these times? Surely, a union with another royal house would serve the kingdom better than a contest where commoners may enter."
Thereth remained silent, though his attention sharpened. The Selection had always been a point of contention among the Elders. It was an ancient tradition, upheld by the gods themselves, where Omegas—both noble and commoner—competed through a series of trials to win the favor of the prince and become the next queen.
King Zodros, unmoved by the elder's objection, raised his hand. "The gods have spoken, Elder Varyn. The Alpha King is chosen by fate, and so too must his mate be chosen by the same hands."
"The gods' will is not in question," Elder Varyn continued, his tone respectful yet firm, "but with the unrest among the nobles, a marriage to a princess of equal standing—perhaps from House Aerus—would secure stronger alliances."
The king's eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "Do you question the gods' choice, Varyn?"
Varyn's lips pressed into a thin line. "I question only what is best for Thalevoria, my king. The commoners are unpredictable, and to place them in competition for the throne... is a risk."
Thereth allowed his gaze to drift from the heated exchange between his father and Varyn. His mind was elsewhere. He had known this day would come—the day the Selection would be announced. Yet it did little to ease the growing weight of his responsibilities.
Thereth was not like his brothers, whose only ambition was to win favor with the court or further their own schemes. He was chosen by the gods to inherit the throne, and with that choice came envy, resentment, and danger at every turn.
_______
As the meeting adjourned, Prince Thereth exited the hall with measured strides. The corridors of the palace, though grand, often felt claustrophobic to him. No matter how vast the kingdom, he could never escape the gaze of his rivals.
Just beyond the hall's entrance, Prince Zevrin, the eldest of his half-brothers, leaned casually against a stone pillar, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Zevrin had always been the most brazen in his disdain for Thereth.
"Ah, the gods' chosen," Zevrin greeted, his voice dripping with mockery. "I trust you're ready for your little contest. A few Omegas scrambling to win your favor—how quaint."
Thereth stopped in front of his brother, his expression unreadable. "It is tradition," he said simply.
Zevrin pushed off the pillar and circled him slowly. "And traditions are often outdated. A princess—like Elowen from Aerus—would secure our future. But I suppose the gods' choice matters more than the kingdom's stability, doesn't it?"
Thereth met his brother's gaze, unflinching. "The gods' will has always been what guides us. Or have you forgotten?"
Zevrin's sneer deepened. "I haven't forgotten. I simply choose to question it."
_____
Meanwhile, throughout the kingdom, the royal heralds were spreading the news of the upcoming Selection. In the bustling capital city of Thalevoria, the excitement was palpable. Commoners and nobles alike gathered in marketplaces and taverns, eager to discuss the rare event.
In the poorer quarters of the city, the announcement was met with a mix of awe and disbelief. Among those who listened was a young Omega woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue—Elira, though she didn't yet know how her life was about to change.
Elira worked tirelessly to support her family, her hands rough from years of labor. Her family had once been respected, but the cruel hand of fate had left them struggling. Now, as the herald's voice echoed through the streets, proclaiming that Omegas from all walks of life could compete for the chance to marry the prince, Elira's mother turned to her with wide, hopeful eyes.
"You should go, Elira," her mother urged. "This is your chance."
Elira scoffed, crossing her arms. "A chance for what? To become a pawn in their game? No, thank you."
Her mother frowned. "It's not a game. This is an opportunity. For you, for us. You could change everything."
Elira's heart ached at the desperation in her mother's voice. She wanted more for her family, but the idea of competing in the Selection felt absurd. She was no noble, no polished courtier trained in the art of manipulation and grace. She was a fighter, plain and simple.
Still, as the days passed, her resistance weakened. Eventually, despite her better judgment, she agreed to enter the competition—not for the prince, but for her family. She would show them all that the Selection was flawed, that the commoners were just as worthy as the nobles