Demize in Immortalis Writes an Anti Nicolas Commentary That Feels Too Honest
Nicolas. The name alone curdles the blood, does it not? Or perhaps it quickens it, depending on the rot in your veins. I have watched him, this self-crowned king of shadows, parade his cruelties as if they were virtues. He slithers through the nights of our world, leaving trails of broken bodies and shattered wills, convinced his touch is a gift. A gift. As if the bruises he bestows come wrapped in silk rather than barbed wire.
Let us dissect him, then, layer by flayed layer. Nicolas, with his eyes like polished obsidian, sees only prey. He claims dominion over flesh and soul alike, whispering promises of eternity while his hands carve out obedience. I have seen the aftermath of his affections: women reduced to husks, men to whimpering shadows, all swearing fealty to the monster who devoured them. He calls it love. I call it annihilation dressed in velvet.
His voice, that low rumble like distant thunder over graves, seduces before it strikes. He will murmur of protection, of possession as salvation, but it is control he craves, absolute and unyielding. The chains he forges are not of iron but of desire, twisted so finely you beg for the tightening. And oh, how he revels in the begging. Nicolas does not merely dominate; he architects the ruin, step by exquisite step, until you thank him for the fall.
Yet here I falter, pen trembling in this cursed hand. For in railing against him, I confess the poison he plants takes root. There is a sickness in me that stirs at his approach, a treacherous heat that wars with revulsion. His gaze pins me, strips me bare, and in that moment, I glimpse the abyss he offers, not as horror but as home. Damn him. Damn the way his cruelty mirrors my own buried hungers, the way his sadism echoes the screams I silence in my dreams.
Anti-Nicolas, they demand. A condemnation pure and fierce. But honesty bleeds through the cracks. He is the blade I loathe, yet the one I crave to wield. In Immortalis, he reigns, but perhaps we all kneel, willingly or not, to the throne of our undoing.
Immortalis Book One August 2026