Bound By Alpha Kaelith

Chapter 3 : Chosen or Condemned

“Bring him closer.”

Alpha Demon Kaelith’s voice cut through the hall—calm, deep, absolute.

Arin was seized before he could react. The guards gripped his arms like iron, dragging him forward. His chest tightened; his lungs burned as if the air itself resisted him. His mind raced.

Am I going to be next?

Oh Lord, forgive me for all my sins and accept my soul when I come to you.

The prayer caught in his throat. Fear consumed him, a living thing, gnawing at his thoughts.

Kaelith tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Hm… what a creature we have here.”

Arin looked up. His legs threatened to give out. Alpha Kaelith was impossibly perfect—hair like dark silk cascading over shoulders, skin faintly luminescent, features sharp and symmetrical. But it was the eyes: cold, piercing, unyielding, holding him in place like a predator assessing prey.

The guards trembled under the command, their usual confidence stripped away. No one had expected the Alpha Demon to summon someone personally.

The heavy hall doors began to close behind them. The last thing Arin saw was Kaelith’s dark form, seated, immovable, carved from shadow itself. A shiver ran down his spine, he did not know which was worse: dying quickly or surviving to face whatever this was.

The guards marched him down a corridor he had never seen. Narrow, oppressive, the walls etched with faintly glowing patterns that pulsed like veins. The air grew heavier with every step, almost alive. A low hum seemed to follow them, vibrating through Arin’s bones.

“W-where are you taking me?” he whispered, voice cracking.

“To the Master’s private wing,” one guard replied, eyes darting nervously.

“Why?”

“We are not told his reasons,” the other murmured, voice tight.

That answer did nothing to calm him.

The corridor twisted, walls closing in, until they reached a set of black doors etched with glowing runes.

“We leave him here?” one guard asked, hesitation in his voice.

“Only the Master enters,” the other said.

Arin panicked. “Wait! Don’t leave me here alone!”

The doors swung open on their own, warm air spilling out like a living thing. It tugged at him, insistent. He stumbled forward, drawn as if by invisible hands. The doors closed behind him with a soft, echoing thud.

The chamber was unlike anything he had ever seen. Red crystals glowed from the walls, casting uneven light that flickered and shifted. Shadows curled like smoke, writhing with subtle intent. Strange symbols hovered midair, moving as if aware of his presence. A bed of dark fabric rested neatly against one wall. The air thrummed with Kaelith’s aura—cold, oppressive, alive.

Arin froze. A shadow slithered across the floor, and from it, Kaelith stepped out.

He stood at the far end, lean, powerful, the air itself bending to his presence.

“You will not kneel,” Kaelith said. “You will not bow. You will stand before me exactly as you are.”

Arin’s chest tightened. He could barely breathe.

“You are not a slave,” Kaelith continued, voice low and commanding.

“And you are not prey.”

Arin’s mind scrambled. Then what was he?

Kaelith circled him slowly, precise, calculating, as if mapping every heartbeat.

“Before I decide what you are… tell me your name.”

“I—I… I’m Arin,” he stammered.

“Arin. A simple name. Yet it carries weight.” His tone was flat, absolute, as if weighing Arin’s very essence.

“Do you know why you are here?” Kaelith asked.

Arin shook his head. Words failed him.

Kaelith paused, shadows flickering with him. “Few understand. That is the gift of those chosen… and the curse of those noticed.”

“Chosen… for what?” Arin’s voice trembled.

“Not everything is revealed at once. Patience is a rare virtue,” Kaelith said, his gaze drilling into him.

Arin shivered. He wanted to flee, yet his feet refused to move.

“You are not prey. Yet you are no mere human. There is something in you I must see… understand.”

Arin’s pulse raced. “What… what do you want from me?”

Kaelith’s voice sharpened. “I will see what you are before the world does. Only then will your fate be decided.”

He stepped back, but the air still pressed against Arin, shadows clinging like living smoke.

“Rest,” Kaelith commanded, voice cutting through the silence. “You will not leave this chamber tonight. You will not suffer yet.”

Then, almost casually, as if dismissing him:

“By dawn, I will determine whether you are a spy, an agent of death, or truly innocent.”

Arin’s stomach knotted, each word a stone pressing against him. His hands trembled, knees weak, but he could not look away. The chamber seemed smaller, shadows thicker, air heavier, as if Kaelith’s command had folded the space around him.

Kaelith’s gaze did not waver. It did not soften. It did not pity. It simply observed, cold, absolute, unbroken.

Without another word, he melted into the darkness, leaving Arin alone.

Alone, trembling, Arin sank to the cold floor. Tears ran freely, carving tracks through dirt and sweat. He gripped his head, trying to hold together the fragments of his life that now felt meaningless. The red glow of the walls, the shifting shadows, the oppressive air pressed down relentlessly.

Even in exhaustion, sleep brought no comfort only surrender. Somewhere in the silence, he could not shake the sense of being watched. A faint whisper seemed to slither from corner to corner, echoing his name. Shadows twitched, bending toward him. Kaelith was unseen, unheard, yet his presence was absolute.

Alone, terrified, Arin finally drifted into a fitful, haunted slumber, the memory of Kaelith’s cold, merciless gaze etched into every pulse of the chamber. Even in sleep, he could feel the weight of unseen eyes, the quiet insistence pressing into his mind. The room was alive, a reminder that in this place, nothing was safe and no one was beyond judgment.