Bound By Alpha Kaelith

Arin had never been a morning person, but tonight, sleep had left him completely. The city outside his apartment was loud as usual: car horns honking, sirens wailing far away, people shouting over each other. Neon signs blinked on and off, throwing flashes of color across the streets. From his window, it all looked alive, but empty at the same time. He sank into the couch cushions, arms around his knees, and traced the rim of his cold coffee mug with his finger. The ceramic was cracked in places, tiny imperfections that seemed to match the way he felt. Every now and then, he caught his own reflection in the dark window—tired, restless, small. He pulled his hoodie tighter around his shoulders. Something felt different tonight. The city noise seemed quieter, almost like the world was holding its breath. Shadows stretched longer than usual across the walls. A chill ran down his spine not from the cold, but from a strange feeling he couldn’t explain. Something was about to change, and he could feel it. He sipped his coffee again and frowned. Sleep was gone, and yet he couldn’t rest. His mind kept turning over the same thought: that tonight, nothing would stay the same. “Great. That’s it. I’m imagining things now.” And then he saw it. A faint shimmer, silver and liquid-like, crawling along the walls of his apartment. He froze. It wasn’t a reflection. It wasn’t a trick of the light. His pulse spiked as the shimmer grew, twisting and curling toward him with an intent that made his stomach twist. “What the hell…?” His voice trembled. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like lead. A wave of vertigo hit him, sharp, sudden, making him stumble back onto the couch. The shimmer settled over his wrist, revealing an intricate symbol glowing softly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He didn’t remember drawing it. He hadn’t been anywhere strange. He hadn’t touched anything. And yet here it was, burning softly, almost alive, a delicate flame crawling across his skin. “What… what is this?” His voice was barely a whisper. Panic began to coil in his chest. The air around him thickened, like static before a storm, pricking at his skin and crawling up his spine. The coffee mug slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor, yet he barely noticed the shards. The room itself seemed to shiver. The walls stretched subtly, shadows deepening unnaturally, and a low hum, almost musical, resonated somewhere behind his ribcage. And then the world tore open. The air above his table shimmered violently, like heat over asphalt, only colder, sharper. Space itself bent and twisted. The edges of his apartment stretched impossibly, colors bleeding into one another, shapes bending and twisting in ways that made him recoil. A violent gust sucked at his hair, tugged at his hoodie, ripped at the carpet beneath him. He screamed. His lungs burned. He flailed. The floor disappeared. And then… he fell. --- When Arin opened his eyes, the ground beneath him was damp and cold, pressing into his palms. His chest heaved, each breath sharp and uneven. He sat up slowly, blinking against the dim light that filtered through the trees above. The forest around him was impossible, trees taller than any skyscraper, their twisted black trunks pulsing faintly with shadowy veins, leaves shimmering in colors that didn’t exist in any spectrum he knew. He stumbled to his feet, shaking, and his heart began hammering harder. The air was thick and heavy, alive with a tension that made his skin crawl. Somewhere far above, the wind whispered through the canopy, carrying sounds that made his stomach twist. Laughter? Growls? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to. “Okay… okay. Think. Just… think,” he muttered to himself, stumbling over a root that seemed to writhe slightly beneath his foot. He barely caught himself, gripping the tree trunk for balance. Every instinct screamed to run, but where would he go? The forest stretched endlessly, shadows curling around him like living things. He began moving cautiously, each step hesitant. Every sound—the rustle of leaves, a branch snapping in the distance, the soft scrape of something moving in the undergrowth—made him jump. He felt like prey in a predator’s den, and the strange, pulsing warmth on his wrist reminded him that he didn’t belong here. As he walked, he noticed faint tracks in the moss—large footprints, almost humanoid but too precise, too heavy, pressed into the ground as if the earth itself had yielded to something powerful. He followed them unconsciously, curiosity battling with fear. Something told him they would lead somewhere. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere he shouldn’t be. The forest thickened, the air colder now, heavier, almost suffocating. Shadows stretched across the twisted trees, moving in the corners of his vision, subtle and almost impossible to focus on. Arin’s hands shook as he pushed through the thick undergrowth, branches scraping his arms and face. Every step felt louder than it should, every crack of a twig underfoot echoing in the stillness. The feeling of being watched pressed down on him, making his chest tight. He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move, though every fiber of him screamed to run. Then he heard it—a faint, sharp click of metal against stone, followed by the heavy thud of boots striking hard ground. His pulse jumped, and he ducked instinctively behind a gnarled tree trunk, heart hammering. Through the gaps in the foliage, he caught sight of figures in dark armor, tall and silent, moving with frightening exactness. Their eyes glowed faintly, a soft eerie light that seemed to pierce the shadows. The forest seemed to bend around them, as if it obeyed their command, guiding them forward without sound. They moved fast, almost too fast, gliding through the trees with an unnatural grace. Arin’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to run, but his legs felt rooted to the damp, leaf-strewn ground. Every instinct he had told him he was completely, utterly outmatched. And then a deeper presence pressed into the forest—a heavy, commanding energy that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. It wasn’t the guards anymore. Something far older, far stronger, watched him. Somewhere inside, he knew this was no ordinary threat. The forest seemed to hush itself in respect, or maybe fear, as the air thickened with an almost tangible power. Arin’s stomach knotted. He had walked into something ancient, something that didn’t forgive mistakes, and something that would not let him leave easily. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that the armored figures he saw were more than just soldiers—they were extensions of the being who commanded them. Rumors he had overheard once, or maybe imagined, whispered in his mind: “The Alpha… the one no one touches. His mother… killed by the High Council. He watched. He never forgave. No one, not even the daughters sent to him, survive if they displease him.” The stories didn’t make sense at first, but looking at the energy radiating from the forest, the soldiers’ every motion precise and tense, Arin understood. This was someone feared even by the people who served him. Untouchable. Untouching. Absolute. Arin’s stomach twisted. He wanted to run, but the forest seemed to close in around him. Every instinct screamed for him to hide, but the figures were already too close. Before he could react, hands grabbed him firm, unyielding. He tried to struggle, panic rising like a tide. But they were too strong, pulling him upright with ease. His legs buckled under him, and he stumbled forward, arms flailing. Through the haze of fear, he caught a glimpse of the castle in the distance—dark, looming, and impossibly massive. Its black spires reached toward the sky, and its walls seemed to drink in every bit of light. The armored figures led him toward it silently, their grip never loosening. As Arin was forced onward, a strange mix of awe and terror tangled inside him. The forest had been intimidating, alive, dangerous, but the castle… it was something else entirely. Massive stone walls loomed overhead, their surfaces etched with centuries of weather and power. Every shadow seemed to move, every echo felt deliberate, as though the building itself was aware of his presence. Somewhere inside, he knew the person waiting would see him not as a visitor, not as an intruder, but as prey. And the thought made his stomach twist, a cold fire igniting behind his ribs—a warning, a thrill, a promise of danger he couldn’t yet name. His hands trembled slightly, but he forced himself forward, step by careful step, knowing that the castle didn’t forgive hesitation and that the master within was said to forgive nothing at all.