The Alpha King's Human

Part 1: Aurora

Life is anything but easy, especially for someone like me, Aurora— a 21 year-old human girl. I was born into a world where humans are no longer the rulers, where we've become nothing more than second-class citizens, existing solely to serve the ruling werewolf elite.

In the past, humans thrived, blissfully unaware of the existence of magic and the creatures that lurked in the shadows. But those days faded away as the werewolf population swelled, and they arrogantly declared their superiority. Now, humans are mere subjects, forced into servitude, our once-proud existence reduced to laborers for the werewolves' every whim.

Our lands have been stolen from us, transformed into the territory of the werewolves. The places we once called home now belong to them, and we're left with nothing but the remnants of our past lives. The struggle for survival is a constant companion, and the specter of death looms over us daily.

The werewolves rule with an iron fist, and any hint of disobedience is met with ruthless punishment. They make it clear that our lives are expendable, easily snuffed out if we dare to resist. It's a grim reality that we face, where the difference between life and death is as thin as a strand of spider silk.

Yet, even in this bleak world, a glimmer of hope persists. Hidden within the desolation are secret rebellion camps, places of refuge for those like me who refuse to accept our fate. I live in one of these camps, surrounded by others who share my desire for freedom. The rebellion is a brave collective of humans, united in our determination to fight against being reduced to mere shadows of citizens.

Our camps are always on the move, constantly shifting to evade the ever-watchful eyes of the werewolves. We know that if they ever discover us, they will not hesitate to wipe us out. But we press on, our spirits unwavering, fueled by a burning determination to reclaim our dignity and rights.

Some of us have even found unlikely allies among the werewolves themselves—those who cannot ignore the cruelties committed by their own kind.

My parents were among the most courageous in the rebellion, fighting for the liberation of humans. They gave their lives for the cause they believed in, leaving behind a legacy of bravery and sacrifice. I respect their ideals and despise what the werewolves have done to our world, but my timid nature has always kept me out of the front lines of trouble.

Within the camp, I'm known for different reasons. I'm not a warrior or a leader; I'm the one who contributes in ways that don't involve the impending war. My fingers are nimble, skilled in weaving and crafting, creating clothing and blankets to keep my fellow rebels warm. I have a green thumb, tending to the camp's garden, coaxing life from the barren soil, providing us with much-needed sustenance. My voice often finds its way into songs and stories, bringing comfort and solace to those weary from the constant struggle.

Despite my inability to match the heroics of my parents, I'm loved by my fellow rebels. They see me as a reminder of the softer side of humanity, a symbol of hope in the midst of despair. They appreciate the warmth I bring to the camp, not just through the fruits of my labor but also through the kindness in my heart.

Tonight, around the campfire's flickering light, we huddle together, our voices hushed, our faces etched with a mixture of fear and anger. The topic of conversation, as it often is, turns to the werewolves and their recent acts of cruelty.

Mara, a fiery woman with fierce determination, spoke first, her voice quivering with intensity. "Did you hear what they did in the neighboring village? A group of werewolves stormed in, accusing the humans of hiding rebels. They tore apart homes, injured innocent people, and left the place in ruins."

A murmur of agreement rippled through our group as we exchanged horrified glances. The werewolves' brutality knew no bounds, and each new atrocity fueled the flames of our resistance.