First encounter

The Kingdom of Varrunna, where the novel took place, mirrored modern society in many ways—cars, skyscrapers, technology—but with one crucial difference: the existence of secondary genders—alpha, beta, and omega. Even within these categories, strict hierarchies divided them into first, second, and third classes based on pheromone control, physical capabilities, and intellectual attributes.

Betas formed the majority, making up 60% of the population, while alphas accounted for 30%, and omegas, the rarest, only 10%. First-class alphas and omegas, however, were anomalies—less than 1% of their respective groups, making Kaylen Morrison and Darrien Valmoor statistical impossibilities.

The Morrisons had always produced alphas, though first-class ones were rare, while the Valmoors bore mostly betas and the occasional omega, with an alpha emerging only once every few generations. Male omegas could bear children with both alphas and betas, and first-class omegas were the most fertile of them all. If a first-class omega conceived, the chance of their child being a first-class alpha or omega was an astonishing 80%, regardless of the other parent's classification. But omega males could only carry life—they could never sire it. In contrast, female alphas could both conceive and impregnate betas and omegas alike.

David shook his head, trying to understand the complexities of the world his sister had created. No. He was not David anymore. He was Asahin. If he wanted to survive in this world, he needed to embrace that identity fully.

His footsteps echoed along the marbled halls as he made his way to the ballroom. The Valmoor estate, standing for over a thousand years, boasted opulent gardens, grand halls, and extravagant decor that spoke of wealth as old as time. While modern buildings had been added to the grounds over the centuries, the main house remained a relic of aristocratic grandeur, a palace frozen in time.

Asahin's quarters were not in the main building. His father had gifted his mother a separate wing upon their marriage—a quiet annex that became Asahin's upon her death when he was eight years old. The distance from the main house had always been a reminder of his place in the family—an afterthought, a ghost of his mother's existence.

Yet he did not resent the long walk. It gave him time to observe, to absorb, to prepare. He moved through a world adorned with crystal chandeliers and gold filigree, wrapped in a deep-purple suit that contrasted against his pale skin, exuding an elegance that set him apart. He was taller than most omegas, with a body that was supposed to be lean yet strong, though it appeared frail due to prolonged suffering. His features were striking rather than delicate. Unlike his half-brother Darrien, who possessed the ethereal beauty of a first-class omega, Asahin's allure was unconventional—sharp edges rather than soft curves.

He entered the ballroom.

The moment he stepped in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations lulled. Eyes turned toward him.

Judgment.

He felt it like a weight pressing down on him.

An omega should not hold himself like that. An omega should be gentle, submissive, unobtrusive. And yet, Asahin carried himself with a presence that defied expectations. He met their scrutiny with cold detachment—neither defiant nor apologetic. After all, he was not the original owner of this body. He had never been the submissive, cowering type in his other life.

Then, his gaze locked onto him.

Darrien.

Golden-haired, blue-eyed, draped in an outfit tailored to perfection. Every inch of him was designed to captivate. He was the ideal omega—delicate, alluring, desired.

And he was glaring at Asahin with undisguised hatred.

Asahin felt the weight of that loathing settle into his bones. The intensity of it was suffocating. What had he done to deserve such malice? He could not remember. But Darrien's expression promised one thing—Asahin was not welcome here.

Then, standing beside him, was Kaylen Morrison.

The moment Asahin's eyes landed on him, the world tilted.

Tall, powerful, dark-haired—Kaylen exuded an effortless dominance that made the very air in the room feel heavier. His gray eyes were stormy, unreadable, sharp enough to cut through stone. He was the epitome of a first-class alpha—strength incarnate, presence undeniable.

A visceral reaction overtook Asahin. His breath hitched, his heartbeat thundered. It was like being pulled under by an unseen force, dragged into an ocean he had no hope of escaping. His body tensed, overwhelmed by something primal, something unexplainable.

He had not been prepared for this.

"Asahin!" A voice rang through the air, sharp, commanding, furious.

His father.

The room froze. All attention turned toward the head of the Valmoor family as he approached, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, seething. "Did I not forbid you from attending these events?"

Asahin stiffened. "But the butler said you requested my presence."

His father's expression flickered with confusion, then switched to disbelief. He thought Asahin was lying.

That was when Asahin realized this was a setup. A trap.

A smirk curled at the edge of Darrien's lips.

Understanding settled in Asahin's gut like a stone.

They had orchestrated this.

Darrien and his mother, playing their games, weaving their deceptions. They had set him up, ensuring he walked straight into humiliation.

A rush of heat flooded his veins—not from embarrassment, but from fury.

Then—pain.

A sharp, crushing agony in his skull. A flood of images.

His stepmother's sickly sweet smile.

The cold detachment in his father's eyes.

The whispers of the staff, the silent cruelty, the betrayals.

Memories slammed into him all at once, drowning him in truth.

He had never been the villain.

It had always been them.

His breath turned shallow, his vision swam, his knees weakened. His father was still speaking, berating him, but the words blurred, became insignificant.

Then, another voice. Deep. Raspy. Irritated.

"What's going on?"

Kaylen.

Asahin turned toward him, and the moment he did, a scent hit him like a tidal wave.

Vanilla. Spice. Something bitter. Something metallic. Addictive, yet painful.

His body reacted instantly.

His knees buckled. His vision darkened. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.

The world was tilting, spinning, collapsing around him. Before he could stop himself, he was clinging to Kaylen, fingers grasping at the fabric of his sleeve, desperate for something—anything—to anchor him.

Darrien's voice cut through the chaos, sharp with accusation. "Brother, what are you doing?"

A pair of hands tried to tear him away from Kaylen, but Asahin's body refused to move. He was shaking, struggling to remain upright.

Then—his legs gave out completely.

He braced for the cold impact of the marble floor.

But it never came.

Instead—warmth.

Strong arms. A firm chest. An embrace that held him steady, grounding him in a world that had just moments ago threatened to swallow him whole.

His last thought before the darkness consumed him was a name.

Kaylen Morrison