The temple was not built for worshipping gods. These people had long stopped believing in distant, silent deities who never came when they were needed most. To them, a god who stayed hidden while their homes burnt and their families were slaughtered was no god at all.
Over generations, their faith had withered away, replaced by bitterness and anger. So the temple stood not as a place of holy light, but as a monument to desperation.
No matter how holy the temple looked from outside, inside, its walls were blackened by old smoke, its pillars carved with symbols that seemed to twist and writhe in the shadows. No hymns of praise were sung here. Instead, whispers filled the air: pleas for survival, bargains spoken in trembling voices, and promises made in fear.
The being they prayed to is no god. It's something far darker. A demon.
When monsters prowled the night, when plague or famine struck, when hope seemed lost, the demons were the only power that ever answered. While the gods remained silent, the demon listened. It came when called, bringing strength, destruction, or protection, whatever the humans begged for.
But demons never give without taking something in return. To summon one, the villagers needed to offer a price, and the price was always the same: a virgin human bride. The bride would not simply be a symbol or a token. She would belong to the demon, body and soul.
The union was a contract sealed in blood. Once chosen, the bride could never return to her old life. She would become the demon's property, the living payment for its power.
In exchange, the village would receive what they most desired: victory over their enemies, protection from the creatures that hunted them, or even the destruction of rival lands.
It was a cruel bargain, but one the people accepted willingly. To them, it was better to sacrifice one life than watch their entire world crumble. Over the years, countless brides had been given to the darkness, each one vanishing into the shadows of the temple, never to be seen again.
However, one bride remained alive, still walking among humans as if she did not belong to the world of shadows. She was bound to the very demon they had summoned, the ancient being known as Alandraeth, the Devourer of Ties.
The name itself carried weight and fear. Alandraeth is no ordinary demon. She doesn't feast on flesh or blood like the others. Instead, she fed on connections, on love, loyalty, bloodlines, and even sacred promises and unbreakable contracts. Wherever a bond was broken, her power grew.
Alexandra stood frozen, wearing the face of Alandraeth, staring at the breathtakingly beautiful young woman before her. Her heart pounded, yet her body would not move. She couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe properly. All she could do was just stand there and watch, helpless, as events unfolded exactly as fate had intended.
The young woman standing before her is Alandraeth's bride, the one who should have been lost forever. Other demons, once summoned, would devour their chosen bride entirely, body and soul, leaving nothing behind but the memory of their screams.
But Alandraeth is different. She did not consume her bride. Instead, she would take her away to her dark realm, a place where time itself did not exist, trapping her in eternal stillness. Which is why this woman is here. Alive. Breathing. Walking among mortals because Alandraeth's duty isn't yet fulfilled.
Long ago, before humans raised kingdoms and built great cities, the world was wild and untamed. From the chaos of those ancient days, powerful beings were born—creatures of pure darkness and magic. Even among these, Alandraeth was feared.
While other demons sought blood, destruction, and power, Alandraeth craved something deeper and far more dangerous: the hearts and souls bound by love. She was drawn to human connections, to their fragile hopes and promises.
Legends whispered that Alandraeth was not always a creature of darkness. Once, she had been a divine guardian, a protector of sacred unions and sworn oaths. But when mortals betrayed their vows and abandoned the old ways, her heart turned bitter. Grief twisted into rage, and rage into a terrible hunger. She fell from grace, casting aside her divine purpose to become a demon who thrived on shattered promises and painful sacrifices.
Where there was betrayal, she would appear. Where love was destroyed, she would grow stronger. And this bride, the woman standing before Alexandra, had a name—Selena.
Selena's story was one of heartbreak and cruelty. She had once been a joyful bride-to-be, ready to marry the man she loved. But on the day of their union, her groom abandoned her, fleeing to wed a foreign princess for wealth and power. Selena's happiness was shattered, leaving her hollow and broken.
Her grief and despair made her the perfect offering. The townspeople, desperate to save their city from the upcoming attacks of monstrous creatures, chose Selena to become the sacrifice for a summoning ritual. They believed that by offering her as a bride, a powerful demon would appear and grant them the strength to fight back.
And so, they called upon Alandraeth.
Selena was dressed in the ceremonial white and red garments of a sacrificial bride, her tears falling silently as the chanting filled the temple. The runes carved into the walls glowed an eerie crimson light as the final words were spoken. The moment the ritual ended, Alandraeth appeared—beautiful, terrible, and impossible to look away from.
All of that was a memory now, a haunting echo of what had happened just one month ago.
Selena stood in silence, her chest rising and falling with quiet, steady breaths as she stared at the woman before her. This woman—the one wearing a mortal's face—was no ordinary human. She was Alexandra, the form Alandraeth took while walking among the living.
The heavy temple doors groaned as Alexandra stepped inside, fresh from her journey beyond the city gates. There was dust on her boots, and the faint scent of ash clung to her cloak. Selena's heart quickened, her voice breaking the silence between them.
"What did you find?" she asked, her tone filled with both hope and fear.
Alexandra's eyes glimmered with something unearthly as she turned to face her. When she spoke, it was not entirely Alexandra's voice that answered, but the deeper, resonant voice of Alandraeth echoing through her words.
"Just a week," she said softly, yet the words seemed to shake the air. "One more week, and my duty will be fulfilled."
Selena's hands tightened around the folds of her dress. Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of what she was about to ask. "And when that week is over… you'll take me with you?"
Alexandra—Alandraeth—stepped closer, her shadow stretching unnaturally long across the temple floor. Her gaze locked on Selena's, dark and intense.
"Yes," she said. "You are Alandraeth's bride. You are mine. When my work here is done, you will come with me. Even when I return to the void itself, you will remain at my side."
For a heartbeat, there was only silence between them. Then Selena exhaled, her lips curling into a small, almost serene smile. "Yes," she whispered, her voice steady now. "I'm willing."
She lifted her chin, defiance burning in her eyes as she looked past Alexandra, toward the city that had betrayed her. "Being with you," she continued, her tone sharp with contempt, "is far better than staying among these rotten, faithless humans. Let them burn. Let their world crumble. My place is with you."
A faint, almost pleased smile touched Alexandra's lips. The shadows in the room seemed to stir, as though Alandraeth herself were pleased by her bride's answer. And somewhere in the distance, beyond the city walls, a low, inhuman howl rose into the night, a reminder that the final week had begun.