Page 1 of The Fallen

Chapter One

Father Draven

Game night.

It’s the bane of every Alpha’s existence. That is, every Alpha who wishes to contain the baser urges flowing through him. Yet, with one stroke of a pen, the Universal Governance Council doomed us, gave us the freedom many didn’t want, nor need.

Though, I could just be delusional. I don’t claim to be a reliable narrator, seeing as my thoughts are consumed with lusts of the flesh and not the Body and Blood of Christ as I should be. It would probably be better to say they doomed me and me alone.

But then, that’s just hubris, isn’t it? To think that the government wants to see me fail so spectacularly that they enact a feast of the flesh, a bacchanalian celebration of sorts where chaos is god and righteousness is nowhere to be found, just to tempt me, to draw me back into the depths of depravity. The depths I fought tooth and nail to crawl out of.

It would be far too easy to leave on this most unholy night, to travel to another sector and be done with it all. But I’ve never run from anything before in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.It’s laughable, really, thinking this night should have any effect on me, any hold.

He was tempted in all points like we are. And yet, I’m sure Christ never faced this. The virus that swept through, transforming us into monsters - predators versus prey - has only had its effects scorching the earth in this last millennium. He was never forced to fight against base urges so strong it makes you want to claw your skin from your bones and weep at your inept weakness.

He could never know. Never understand. But such thoughts are blasphemy. Grabbing my rosary, I finger the familiar beads as a calmness drifts over my mind and soul. I just have to have faith. Everything else will work itself out.

A heavy sigh flits from my lips, pulled from the deepest recesses of my being as I look out of my barred window, watching the flecks of snow drift over the empty courtyard. Silence. Everything is too quiet. We are all supposed to spend this time in silent contemplation, yet my mind continues to wander.

I should be better than this. Beyond all this. But I’m not. I’m a mere mortal man. Gripping my rosary even tighter, I grit my teeth as I force myself to concentrate. I need to get my mind and heart right before morning Mass. Unfortunately, every time I close my eyes, it’s not wholesome thoughts that fill my brain.

It’s the newest Sister to our abbey—Sister Emily Agnes. Agnes. My mind trips over the saintly name bestowed upon her. Chaste, virtuous, everything a Sister should be. And yet, here I am, wondering what she looks like underneath her habit.

A groan eases from my lips, breaking the silence, as I squeeze the rosary so hard the cord snaps and beads plink all over the floor. My vision wavers for a moment as a buzz fills my brain. Until she came here, I had things under control. I was able to keep myself calm.

And yet, here I am, brought to my knees as electricity surges through my brain, forcing me to stop all action as it tamps down the aggression and sexual need coursing through me like a live wire. An animal. Nothing more. At least, that’s how the government paints us.

Forcing young Alphas on the cusp of adolescence to cede their power over to some foreign bit of nanotechnology to keep omegas safe. As if that is all that’s needed. It’s a heart issue and not a control issue.

As a practicing Father Confessor, I’ve heard the stories. I’ve listened to other Alphas as they recounted in cold calculation the things they and others have done. All without the implant stopping them. It’s not foolproof by any means.

Learn to game the system, and you can have the various sectors eating out of the palm of your hand. Learn the rules well enough, and you can bend them to your will with no one being a bit the wiser. If only I were such a specimen.

But no. I wear every emotion on my sleeve. My brain sizzles and snaps with every untoward thought. It’s as if God himself seeks to punish me directly.

Either way, I’ve been able to keep my heart and mind in check. Once I committed myself to a life of service to God almighty, the incidences of needing the implant to remind me of my place and role became less and less until it was nearly zero.

But then there was her.

Until Sister Emily Agnes, I’ve been able to maintain my role here with piety and dignity. I’ve never felt this with any of the other Sisters under my care, never felt such loss of control. They were sheep for me to lead, poor, innocent women for me to protect. Now, I feel like the vilest of wolves set to devour them.

No.

Not them.

Her.

I lie there on the cold floor, breathing in and out as my body remains immobile, held hostage by this implant forced into us at such a tender age. Perhaps it’s because we’re so close to Game Night. Even though I was not an active participant last year, it’s as if my body is gearing up for something, becoming primed and ready.

But ready for what?

Last year, I sequestered myself into my room as the Sisters took to the main chapel and prayed. They were phenomenal at offering sanctuary to any omega who requested it. They were so generous in their outward showing of love and faith. Unlike me.

I didn’t dare chance leaving the confines of my room. Not when the idea of being unfettered was so new, so unexplored. But even then, even when their myriad scents of fear and lust permeated the abbey, I stood firm.

Nothing shook me then. It’s as if I were untouchable, protected by God Himself. I was a lone Alpha able to conduct the game in prayer in supplication with little regard to any carnal needs that could have arisen.

Not now. God seems to have abandoned me at this time of need. It’s as if He’s testing me, seeing how far I can go before I break. That means this year I have no clue how I’m going to keep myself behind these paltry bits of wood and iron. Not when I already long to burst out of my bonds of the flesh to bathe in the sanctity of the Sister who haunts me at every turn.

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