Page 36 of Storms of His Wrath

Naya blinked, still standing. “I never said?—”

“You come here, to our sanctuary, and tell us we’re failing, that we’re missing something essential, that our children will be lesser because we’ve chosen safety over slavery and pain.” The woman’s voice rose with each word, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Your children are not?—”

“Do you see weakness when you look at us? Do you see failure? Because we’re the ones who healed you from a wound that an Alpha gave you!”

“If you would let me answer?—”

“Answer this: Why do you think Omegas are so pathetic that they need Alphas to be complete? We’ve built a thriving community, raised healthy children, mastered magical arts that your precious Alphas can’t even comprehend. We’ve survived genocide, created beauty from nothing, maintained our dignity and our freedom. What part of that screams weakness to you?”

The barrage of questions barely gave Naya space to breathe, let alone respond. The woman’s fury reminded her sharply of Mother Freya’s anger at the freedom Lox Omegas had, the same righteous indignation, the same assumption that any defense of Alpha-Omega partnerships was somehow a betrayal of Omega strength.

Annoyance flooded Naya’s chest, irritation flaring bright and sharp. Her emotional wounds from the afternoon still bled beneath her skin, making every nerve feel raw and exposed. And now this, this familiar refrain that painted her as foolish and entitled for even considering that Omegas might benefit from connection rather than isolation.

“You want to know what I think?” Naya’s voice rang through the chamber. “I think you’re terrified. Terrified of change, terrified of growth, terrified of the possibility that the worldmight be different than it was when Omega trauma was fresh and new.”

The woman recoiled as if slapped, but Naya pressed on, years of frustration with this mindset pouring out unchecked.

“I think you’ve built a beautiful cage and called it freedom. You’ve created a life so secretive, so removed from any possibility of pain, that you’ve forgotten what it means to truly live. And worst of all, you’ve convinced yourselves that this fear is wisdom, that this isolation is strength. It is not!”

Silence crashed over the chamber like a wave.

“You ask me about weakness?” Naya said, her voice dropping to something more dangerous. “The weakness isn’t in wanting connection. The weakness is in being so broken by past horrors that you can’t envision a truly happy future. It’s in assuming that because bad things happened, good things are impossible. The weakness is in teaching your daughters that they should be afraid of the whole world instead of showing them how to navigate it with wisdom and strength.”

The words pierced in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Around the circle, faces transformed to various degrees of shock, anger, and even recognition. But as the silence stretched, an uncomfortable realization twisted through Naya’s chest.

Here she was, lecturing these women about not letting fear dictate their choices, about the weakness of choosing isolation over connection. Yet what had she done just hours earlier? Her body had known what it wanted, had responded to his touch with relish, yet her mind had still chosen safety over possibility. She was lecturing them about courage while doing exactly what she criticized—letting past wounds dictate future choices.

The contradiction cut deep. She was advocating for courage while choosing self-protection, arguing for the importance of Alpha-Omega bonds while rejecting her own.

She quickly pushed the thoughts aside. That was different. These women feared potential harm from unknown Alphas. She was protecting herself from proven cruelty from a specific one. The distinction mattered.

The thought sat bitter on her tongue as she watched the women process her words. Some nodded thoughtfully, others bristled. All of them seemed to sense the weight of what she’d said, the challenge to beliefs that had kept them safe for generations.

The woman Naya’s age with penetrating dark eyes who’d spoken this morning leaned forward, her voice cutting through the tension. “Your bloodline theory—how do you know it’s accurate? How can you be certain that what you’re describing actually happens?”

Grateful for a question she could answer with facts rather than emotion, Naya settled onto the stone bench. “The Lox Empire maintains comprehensive records through our Record Keep; a place where scholars document population trends, birth patterns, family lineages. They’ve tracked these changes over generations.”

“And you’ve seen this data yourself?”

“Yes. I’ve studied the records extensively as part of my education as heir to the Lox throne. The patterns are clear when you have enough data to analyze.”

The silver-haired elder, Ttela, spoke with quiet intensity. “Are you aware how insulting this theory is to the children in our community? You’re essentially telling them they’re inferior because their fathers aren’t Alphas.”

“Not just them,” another Omega Naya didn’t recognize added. “All of us. This community is generations old. Most of us probably don’t have Alphas in our bloodline.”

Naya shook her head firmly. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You’ve raised intelligent, capable children who are thrivingdespite every obstacle this world has thrown at your community. You aren’t inferior. None of you are.”

She leaned forward. “What I’m talking about isn’t individual worth, it’s about preserving the traits that made all of this possible. The magical abilities that let you maintain those crystals, create protective tools.” Her voice grew quieter as her thoughts drifted on a tangent. “Although maybe... maybe it wouldn’t be entirely terrible if those traits faded. If there were no more Omegas, future generations wouldn’t have to worry about wild magic hunting them. They wouldn’t experience the kind of heartbreak that comes from needing someone so completely, only to have that person...”

Naya caught herself, heat searing her face, realizing how personal her words had become.

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice back to steadiness. “I’m not saying anyone here is lacking anything. I’m simply pointing out what happens over time when certain bloodlines don’t continue.” She shrugged. “Whether that’s a loss or a mercy depends on your perspective.”

The woman with the soothing voice spoke up. “But even if we made the decision to seek out only Alphas to have our children with, you’re still saying we’re lacking something essential. That we’re incomplete if we’re without Alphas.”

Frustration flared hot in Naya’s chest again, her patience finally snapping completely. “Of course you’re lacking something! Just like Alphas are lacking something without Omegas!”

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