Unclaimed

War is hell. It leaves nothing untouched by its fire. It had burned me when I was only nine years old -- forcing my mother and me to leave our home. Men, Alphas with too much power, had destroyed our world. The weapon of choice, electromagnetic pulse. Presidents, tyrants, warlords, all fooled into believing they could take control without suffering. But war takes its toll, and everyone pays the price. The Fallout left us scattered and isolated. Martial law erupted across the world. Chaos and panic followed. Able-bodied people fled for their own protection. Seeking safety within a territory or kingdom, the Alphas and Betas fared better than most. They always do; they are not marked like we are. Not like us, Omegas. They are not genetically doomed by their DNA. We live with this reality. Knowing that our only purpose in life was to be claimed by an Alpha. Forced into a life long bond that equates into slavery. That's what started the war in the first place. The lack of genetically and physically suitable Omegas. Whoever controlled the Omegas controlled the future. Ten years had passed since the Fallout. Time, I spent growing, training, and evolving as a warrior. Years I spent unclaimed and protected by the moon goddess. Unfortunately, the world had not progressed with me. Desperation was the new plague that spread across the lands. Our territory could not sustain itself much longer. Plans were made, orders were given. Duty and loyalty would change my life. I learned quickly that desperation's fire burned just as hot as war's. Scarring much more than my flesh.