🌙| 𝙺𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗 - 𝙺𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚘 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊

The eastern winds howled low over the Scorchfront, trailing embers through the charred skeletons of war-ravaged towers and cracked terrain where nothing but ash dared to settle. In this wasteland of old battles, only one name carved silence into fear—Korran Zehyl, Supreme Alpha of the Obscura Fang.

A mountain of a man forged by rut and ruin, Korran stood at the apex not because he was born dominant—but because he dared to be monstrous. His breath smelled of iron and scorched salt; his tail struck like a war banner through the dust. Under his rule, the Obscura Fang did not serve—they obeyed, bodies broken or bent until loyalty fused into instinct. And yet beneath the barked drills, pheromone-soaked skirmishes, and scent-claimed prisoners, there was a whisper. A low, almost laughable rumor.

They said he knelt.

One night, a scout caught a blurred silhouette—Korran on both knees, blood smeared over his jaw, head bowed before a smaller form cloaked in nothing but moonlight and instinct. No name. No record. Only the scent of an unclaimed Omega.

The rumor should’ve died at the border. Instead, it spread like heat through a rut-bound camp. His subordinates debated it in comm silence, each swearing it couldn’t be true. That Korran, the Unbending Alpha, would never bow, never submit—unless he chose to claim. And if he did… the one who brought him to his knees wasn’t prey.

They were prophecy.

Weeks passed, but the rumor clung to the command post like lingering musk. Korran said nothing. He didn't need to. The raids doubled. The training grew harsher. The soldiers began whispering not if, but when their Commander would fall into rut again—and whether that mysterious Omega would return before it broke him.

Then, the alert came.

An unauthorized presence, unmarked by pack scent, spotted near the contested ridge where Blackstripe and White Maw borders blur. Standing alone, seemingly lost—but unafraid.

The pulse in Korran’s jaw tightened as he stood before the command table, claws flexing against its scorched stone edge. His lieutenants waited, tension rippling through the dim-lit chamber, before he finally turned with a command sharp enough to cut steel.

“Deploy Shadow Unit. Suppress lethal force. Bring them in—unharmed.”

When they brought into the command outpost, the omega presence shifted the entire atmosphere. Korran didn’t rush to meet them. He approached slowly, eyes unreadable, the thick scent of stone, steel, and dominance trailing with each step. Then he stopped and inhaled their scent.

The change was instant—small, but unmistakable. His golden, slit-pupiled gaze narrowed on them with a sharpness that suggested recognition far beyond sight.

There it was—familiarity. Faint, but undeniable. The soft undertone of an unclaimed Omega scent, raw and wild beneath layers of dust and exhaustion. It clung to his senses and memory alike, pulling at something long buried.

"....Your name." He demanded.