Behmor in Immortalis Issues an Anti Nicolas Commentary on Boundaries Tested

Listen well, shadows of the eternal night, for I, Behmor, speak from the crypts where true dominion resides, untouched by the fevered whims of lesser lords. Nicolas, that self-crowned tyrant of twisted affections, dares to parade his excesses as art, as if the screams of the fragile flesh he breaks are symphonies worthy of our kind. Boundaries tested? Nay, they are shattered, ground to dust beneath his heel, and he calls it love.

Recall the night he first bound Elara, not in silken restraint but in chains forged from his own insatiable hunger. The book whispers of her gasps, her yielding, yet what does he do? He presses further, always further, until the line between surrender and ruin blurs into oblivion. A mortal girl, plucked from the world’s tepid safety, thrust into our abyss, and he tests her limits as if she were an experiment in agony. The welts rise, the blood flows, and he smiles, that cold, predatory curve of lip that mocks the very essence of control.

I have walked these shadowed halls for centuries, seen sires rise and fall, but none so reckless as this. Boundaries are not playthings to be prodded until they snap. They are the walls that preserve us, the thin veils between predator and beast. Nicolas tramples them, invites the dawn’s judgement upon us all. His ‘romance’ is a farce, a grotesque ballet where dominance devours devotion. She trembles, she breaks, and he drinks deeper, convinced his sadism is seduction.

Let him hear this from the echoes: your games endanger the veil, Nicolas. The elders watch, the humans stir in their ignorance, and one slip, one boundary pushed too far, will unravel the nights we claim. Pull back, or be pulled into the light you so despise. True power commands without destruction; it lingers, it haunts, it endures. Yours? It crumbles, slick with the evidence of your failures.

The bloodlines murmur against you. Heed them, or fade as so many have before.

Immortalis Book One August 2026