Page 1 of Shadowlands Omega

1 | Kiandah

Orias Village

“Omegas say boom!Haaaaaa!Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha boom!” The words whip through the air, my older sister Zelie and youngest sister Audet leading the chant. It’s old school and everybody in the kitchens picks it up by the second line. “Alphas say grrrrr!Oooooh!Ah-ah-ah! Ah-ah grrrrrr.” Half the kitchens erupt in laughter as we do our best to imitate an Alpha growl.

I take the fresh spices Zelie hands me, separate half, and hand her back the rest. There’s a reasonI’mthe one who seasons the food. “Betas say blisssssss. So ah-ha. So ah-ha. Blisssss!”

The soup bubbles in front of me and I stir it absently, confident in the consistency and the fact that the okra won’t stick to the bottom of the pot. Meanwhile, I concentrate as most folks in the kitchens glance my way, waiting for me to solo this next part. My voice lifts and I grin as the words spill out of me, swirling through the room, adding a certain serenity to the chaos.

“Sing the song of shadows, quick before he comes…” While my voice carries louder than the others, we turn towards one another, setting aside the pots we’re drying, the soups we’re stirring, the breads we’re baking, as we beat a steady tempo against the ground with our heels.

We get lower and lower to the ground and, in the shadow of my words, the others repeat, “Quick before they come…”

“The Beast will steal your heart, taste your fear, lick your bones…”

“The Beast will lick your bones…”

“Beware his battle axe and lay down your swords…”

Mercy, my mama, steps into the open doorway leading out to the herb gardens, Owenna, my oldest sister, behind her. My dad would have definitely rolled his eyes and slapped a palm over his face and said something like,I don’t pay you to sing all day! Get back to work!even though he doesn’t pay us at all and loves our singing, besides. We’d have laughed and he’d have been caught by Mama bobbing his head along to the beat and murmuring the lines under his breath, and when I finished singing solo, he’d be looking at me with pride and love…but he isn’t here now. And Mama? She’s got the pot in her hand turned upside down and is beating on it like a drum.

“Lay down your swords…”

“Your only chance is to run and sing the shadow song.”

“Sing the shadow song…”

Then everyone, in a hushed tone, chants, “Omegas say boom! Alphas say grrr! Betas say bliss! Be lucky if you don’t ascend and cheat his deadly kiss. Boom! Grr! Bliss! Boom! Boom! Bliss! Grr! Grr…” And soon the words are overlapping. I’m off of my stool, my hands up like I’ve got claws as I prowl around and paw at my friends and my family. My brother and I clash and he pretends to chomp at me with his teeth. He lunges fast and I can’t help the giggle-scream that I release.

Soon, everyone is laughing, pounding on the floor with their feet, stumbling around. The sounds of our overlapping chants get louder and louder and louder until the tension threatens to devolve completely, and only when it almost does — when the giggles are too violent to contain — does Zelie release us.

She cups her hands around her mouth, her loose and fluffy twists flying around her face as she spins, and shouts, “Betas say what?”

“BLISS!” Everyone screams and, even though we’re twins — and grown-ass adults — I lunge to tickle my brother. I’m tall for a woman, but he’s taller and has always been muscular where my limbs are more willowy, so it’s no surprise when he easily takes me down. His fingers are wiggling under my armpits and I’m screaming with laughter, and grateful when Mama rushes up behind him and tickles him in the sides. He arches back on a howl and I roll to avoid getting trampled by Justine andFarrolocked in a tickle frenzy, but accidentally get kicked by Owenna who’s not even participating in this.

Owenna rolls her eyes — looking so much like our father in that moment even though she has the same dark brown irises as our mama — reaches down and easily picks me up and sets me on my feet. “Your soup.” She points with the jar of vinegar in her hand and I squeal when I see my soup burping angrily at the edges, thick globs of the spicy tan-nam threatening to spill out and over.

I have to push my way through the crowded room, laughing as I do, in order to return to my spot at the stove. From there, I turn down the heat and stir. I’m still chuckling to myself as the room quiets back to its normal level of chaos.

“No matter how many times,” Zelie says, stepping up to my side, Audet moving into place beside her. She shakes her head.

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. “She’s always going to give us that look — you know how much she hates it here in the kitchens… Can you hand me that bottle of red wine?”

“What’s to like?” Audet hisses, staring at her fingernails instead of handing Zelie the bottle in question.

“Are you going to chop that onion?” Zelie says as she reaches for the red wine.

“I did.” Audet waves her hand at the massive chunks. I snort, but Zelie says, “Try again.”

In retribution, Audet pinches Zelie’s side and she slips, letting go of the bottle. I try to catch it, but my sisters move at the same time I do and all three of us end up knocking our heads together. The bottle crashes to the ground, glass pieces spraying across the black tiled floor — and I fall right after it.

I scream as I go down, prepared for the painful sting, but a hand catches the back of my dress — a wrap dress, which means she nearly pulls it off of me — and I squeal as I’m quickly yanked upright. Owenna’s glaring at me now. “You three, get it together and clean up this mess before somebody gets hurt.” Her skirt swishes as she collects another few items in the woven basket hanging off of her arm and follows Mama out the back door into the garden.

Through the flashes of open door I see in between so many jostling bodies, I spy pink and purple light streaking across the sky. It’s a magnificent sunset. Thoughts of it plague me for the next half an hour as I mindlessly stir until my soup simmers a perfect, rich brown and tastes absolutely divine. A slight variation on kandia soup, with some added spices that come all the way from the northernmost cities on the North Island, I set this perfect pot off to the side for our Lord and then move on to make the second. The second one doesn’t have to be so perfect since it’s just for us staff, so I take Audet’s chunks of unevenly chopped onion and okra and toss them in.

Yaron’s pot needs to bejustright.

I fantasize about what it might be like to one day deliver the meal. It’s not my duty, but Audet’s, though I don’t know how she drew that lucky straw. She says it’s because she’s prettiest and puts on the best face for our Lord, but I don’t see what her being the prettiest has to do with food. One day, I’ll protest and take her place. One day, when I muster the courage.

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