Allyra’s Perspective: Drawn Into Nicolas’s Orbit

The Sombre rocked gently beneath me, her timbers groaning like the last breath of some forgotten beast. The Getsug Sea stretched out, flat and indifferent, the two suns bleeding into the horizon, casting everything in that perpetual bruise of dusk. I sat on the bulwark, legs dangling over the edge, the salt air biting at my skin. Banshee and BaerNedi slept below decks, their snores a low rumble against the lap of waves. The Baers had become my shadows, my blades, my family in all but blood. They had taught me to extract truth from suffering, to read the twitch of a vein before the lie formed on lips. But tonight, the sea whispered louder than any victim ever had.

I had heard the rumours for years, whispers from stewed vampires and wise thesapiens who loosened tongues under my blade. Nicolas DeSilva, the jester of Corax, the madman who turned an asylum into his personal abattoir. They spoke of his plaid jacket, his top hat taller than any other, his eyes that shifted from brown to green like a storm gathering. Some called him insane, others a god. I called him opportunity. The Electi wanted me dead, the Immortalis wanted me broken. Nicolas? He wanted spectacle. And I intended to give it to him.

The raven had been watching me for days, its red eyes too knowing for a bird. I had staged the vampire tortures for its benefit, knowing Nicolas liked his infamy served hot. Mica had screamed the loudest, his skin bubbling in the cauldron, ranting about DeSilva watching me. I had smiled into the dark, feeling those eyes on me. Come then, jester. See what you have wrought.

When it unravelled into him, I did not flinch. Tall, auburn-haired, that absurd jacket stretching to his thighs, cane topped with a thesapien skull. He strutted, levitated, performed. Theatrical, yes, but beneath it, hunger. Not just for blood, but for the game. He offered his hand, gentlemanly, and I took it, stepping down from the bulwark. The dagger stayed sheathed. For now.

“You can put the dagger back,” he commanded, eyes locking on mine. “It won’t work on me anyway, Immoless.”

I released the hilt, letting it slide home. His gaze held, green flickering in brown depths, and for a moment the world narrowed to that pull. Mesmerism, raw and unfiltered. I felt the weight of it, the command to relax, to sleep, to come to him. But I had danced this dance before, with lesser men. I let my eyelids flutter, voice wistful. “Oh yes, overlord of the plaid asklepion.”

His eyes widened fractionally. Demize’s head cackled from the crow’s nest. “She’s faking. You’re probably used to the ladies faking.”

Nicolas snapped the watch open. Webster’s voice, refined and spectacled. “End her, Nicolas.”

The Ledger would never allow it. The game must be played according to the rules.

I opened my eyes. “I will play by the rules, my rules, not The Electi rules, but I will not detract from Irkalla or The Ledger.”

He dropped his hands, stroked my throat, fingers tracing the line of my cleavage. “You are very odd.” A pause, heavy with the weight of his consideration. “Are you sure you don’t want an assessment?”

I smiled, sardonic. “Let me think. Do I want to be locked in a torture chamber? Hmm. How about no?”

Demize tutted. Webster frowned. Nicolas stood perfectly still, then moved close, hand sneaking to my dagger’s hilt, lifting it, sliding it into his pocket. A hoarder, through and through.

“It is a shame that you will end up so broken.”

“That is a huge assumption to make.”

“I am Immortalis, a god. You never had a chance.”

I met his gaze, unflinching. “If you’re a god, why are you dressed like that?”

He bowed, theatrical as ever. “Madam, Immoless, it has been a pleasure, and I hope to eat you soon. Every inch of you.”

And with that, he was raven again, feathers scattering into the wind. I watched him go, the pull lingering like a hook in my gut. Drawn into his orbit, yes. But orbits can be escaped, with the right force. The sea whispered agreement, and I turned back to the horizon, the Getsug calling. Nicolas DeSilva had no idea what he had unleashed.

Immortalis Book One August 2026