Chapter 5: The Whisper in the Dark
Keal stood still. The darkness around him wasn't just dark—it felt like it had weight, like it was pressing against his skin. He couldn't tell if he was standing on a floor or floating in air. Everything was silent. No walls. No ceiling. No sound except his own breathing.
He glanced down. His sword hung by his side, but he didn't remember carrying it. It was just there, as if it belonged to this place. The silence was heavy. Keal opened his mouth and called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?"
No answer. Not even an echo. It was like there was no one in this dark hole of a place he is.
He took a step forward. Nothing changed. Another step. Still, the same void. The more he walked, the more it felt like he was walking in place. The darkness never ended. It didn't shift, didn't ripple—it just swallowed every step, every breath, every whisper.
He stopped. His shoulders tightened. Something felt off. A presence.
Keal turned around sharply, but no one was there. He swallowed hard, clutching the hilt of his sword. It was cold in his hand. A sound echoed behind him—a faint shuffle. He spun again. Nothing.
His voice cracked as he tried again, louder this time. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
Still nothing. Then suddenly, he felt it. A cold touch on his chin.
Keal's whole body froze. His eyes locked with another set—sharp, glowing eyes. He didn't have to guess.
It was him.
The Demon King.
The man's face was calm, almost amused. He let go of Keal's chin slowly and took a step back, hands behind his back like he was waiting for something.
Keal stumbled a step away, watching the Demon King's every movement.
He had seen him before. Felt his power. Heard the name he had been called—slave. That word still burned in his mind.
He finally found his voice. "What do you want from me? Why do you always follow me?"
The Demon King smiled, his voice low but clear. "Is that really how you speak to the one you're meant to be with forever? Is that how you speak to your destiny mate?"
Keal blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"You'll understand soon," the Demon King said, stepping closer.
Keal stepped back instantly.
"Stay away from me. I'm not yours," Keal said, trying to keep his voice steady.
The Demon King tilted his head, amused. "You're still trying to fight fate? Keal, you were given to me the day you were born. Your soul, your strength—it all belongs to me. You can run, you can deny it, but you can't change it. You can't pull away what is always placed within, you are meant to stand and rule by me for all eternity."
Keal reached for his sword. His hand shook. "You don't get to decide who I am or who I will be with."
The Demon King chuckled, deep and slow. "And yet, here you are. In my space. In my presence. You think this is a dream? No. This is life."
Keal gritted his teeth. "Why now? Why are you doing this?"
"Because you're old enough to remember," the Demon King said. "You're old enough to choose. Stay weak and run with the failures... or stand with me and become what you were born to be."
Keal's eyes narrowed. "I'll never stand with you."
The Demon King's smile dropped. His voice turned cold. "Then you'll fall with them."
Everything around Keal began to shake. The darkness cracked like glass. And then—
He woke up.
His chest rose and fell fast. He was sweating. The dream—no, whatever that was—still echoed in his head.
Keal sat up slowly and looked around his room. Everything was still. He rubbed his forehead and dragged himself to the mirror. His reflection stared back at him with tired, questioning eyes.
"Was that a dream?" he whispered to himself. "Or did he really show up in my sleep?"
He stood there for a moment, breathing slow. His hands were still slightly shaking. He splashed water on his face and grabbed his bag. There was no point in skipping class.
The hallway outside his dorm was full of noise—students laughing, rushing past, talking about magic tests and dueling tournaments. None of them had to worry about being owned by a Demon King.
Keal didn't say a word as he made his way to class. His legs felt heavier than usual. He walked through the open door, his head down, trying to focus on anything else.
He reached his desk.
Then stopped.
Written across the surface in a thick black marker were the words:
"Jerk from a jerk demon mother."
Keal stared at it. Not moving. Not blinking.
He felt his heart squeeze in his chest. The noise of the class faded for a second. Just him, that desk, and those words.
The marker had dug deep into the wood, like whoever wrote it wanted it to hurt. Wanted it to stay.
Keal didn't know if he should sit, walk away, or burn the desk to ash.
He didn't move. He just stood there, the words echoing louder in his head than anything the Demon King had said.
And that's where everything stopped.