Page 1 of Shadow's Claim

PROLOGUE: THE WORLD AFTER THE CONQUEST

Ten years ago, the fabric between dimensions tore open without warning.

The rifts appeared simultaneously across major cities worldwide, disgorging creatures humanity had relegated to myth and nightmare. Dragons soared over metropolitan skylines. Kraken tentacles emerged from harbors and lakes. Plant beings erupted from parks and forests. Shadow demons poured from darkened alleys and underneath beds. Within days, the world as humanity knew it ceased to exist.

Scientists would later theorize that environmental destruction, experimental quantum physics, or perhaps simply cosmic chance had caused these dimensional tears. Whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable—monsters had returned to Earth, and they brought with them biological imperatives that would reshape human society forever.

The beings that emerged were not mindless beasts but intelligent predators with their own hierarchies, cultures, and overwhelming biological drives. Most significantly, they operated on an alpha/omega dynamic far more potent than the vestigial secondary gender system that had existed in humans for millennia. Upon arrival, these creatures—collectively termed "Primes" in official documentation—immediately detected human omegas, whose existence had been largely marginalized in pre-Conquest society.

Human alpha males were systematically eliminated in what became known as the Blood Week. Military resistance crumbled when Prime alphas demonstrated abilities beyond human comprehension—dragons that could withstand missile strikes, shadow demons who could move through solid matter, plant creatures who could control vegetation across entire regions. When the United Nations attempted emergency peace negotiations, the Primes made their terms clear: surrender all omega females for "integration" and eliminate alpha males who might compete for breeding rights.

Some nations attempted to fight. None succeeded. By the end of the first month, the Conquest was complete. A new world order had begun.

In this new reality, human omegas face a stark truth—their biology, once a minor footnote in human existence, now defines their entire future. The Primes operate under Conquest Law, which grants them undisputed right to claim any unmated omega they encounter. Resistance is futile; suppressing omega nature through chemicals only delays the inevitable.

For ten years, humans have lived under Prime rule, the world divided into territories controlled by different monster species. Dragons rule the Eastern Seaboard, their fire and fury reshaping cities into nesting grounds. Nagas control the Southern waterways, transforming swamps and bayous into breeding territories. Shadow demons command the urban Midwest, their darkness penetrating every corner of once-bright cities. Each Prime species has carved out its domain, establishing hierarchies where humans serve and omegas breed.

Some humans resist, operating in secret networks to smuggle suppressants, hide omegas, and undermine Prime authority when possible. But their efforts are drops in an ocean of change. The world belongs to the Primes now, and human society exists at their mercy.

For omegas, life offers limited options: be claimed by a Prime alpha willing to provide protection in exchange for breeding rights, end up in government breeding facilities where personal identity is stripped away, or attempt to hide using increasingly ineffective suppressants—a path that grows more dangerous with each passing year.

This is the world of the Conquest, where ancient monsters rule with primal authority, where human omegas are prized for their fertility, and where the boundaries between captivity and connection blur with each passing generation of hybrid offspring. In this world, monsters and humans forge unexpected bonds, finding that even in darkness, connection can bloom—though never on equal terms.

For the lucky few omegas, captivity by a single powerful alpha might be preferable to the alternatives. And for some, against all odds, what begins as forced claiming may evolve into something neither species expected—something that might, generations hence, bridge the divide between conqueror and conquered.

This is where our story begins.

CHAPTER1

DANGEROUS WORDS

The Midnight Courts have a pulse—acold, methodical rhythm that makes my human heart feel tragically obvious in comparison. Like a metronome placed inside a thunderstorm, desperately trying to maintain timing while surrounded by chaos.

I navigate the crowded halls with practiced confidence, though every step takes me deeper into danger. My translator's uniform—navy blue with the Shadow Dominion's emblem precisely positioned over my heart—grants me access few humans enjoy in this world. The silver pendant at my throat catches the muted light, appearing merely decorative to casual observers. If they only knew the specialized compartments inside hold my weekly dose of suppressants—the only barrier between me and a breeding facility. Or worse, being claimed by one of these four-armed nightmares who call themselves the evolved species.

Three years I've maintained this precarious balance—respected translator by day, resistance operative by night. Three years of smuggling suppressants to unregistered omegas, coordinating extraction operations, and feeding information to the human underground. Three years of holding my breath, waiting for the moment it all falls apart.

Today, that moment feels dangerously close.

My skin prickles with unwelcome warmth—the first warning sign that makes my blood run cold even as my temperature rises. The suppressants are weakening earlier than calculated. I press my hand against the pendant, willing the chemicals to hold just a little longer. The memory of my father and brother, dragged away during the Blood Week when all human alphas were systematically eliminated, flashes behind my eyes. Their final words—a promise to keep fighting—echo in my mind daily.

"Translator Hayes."

The voice slices through my thoughts, the distinctive resonance of Shadow Speech even when using human language. I turn, face arranged in the neutral mask expected of court translators. Years of practice have made this expression my armor.

"Yes, Administrator?"

A lesser shadow demon—only two arms instead of four, eyes merely blue instead of royal purple—holds out a tablet. His skin absorbs the light around him, creating a visual distortion that human eyes struggle to focus on directly.

"Reassignment. Courtroom 12. Priority trial."

I accept the tablet without allowing our fingers to touch. Even brief contact with shadow demon skin feels like plunging your hand into liquid nitrogen—a lesson learned the hard way during my first year.

The assignment details make my carefully regulated pulse quicken: suspected resistance members captured during last week's raid. Names I recognize from whispered conversations in safe houses, faces I've seen at drop points for suppressant distribution.

"Full tribunal?" I ask, voice steady despite the thundering in my chest.

"Highest priority." The administrator's eyes glow slightly brighter—their equivalent of excitement. "Lord Nightshadow himself will conduct the interrogation."

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