How Does Nicolas Control Everything Around Him?
Nicolas DeSilva, the second Immortalis, wields dominion over his domain with a precision that borders on the surgical, yet his methods are as grotesque as they are effective. Corax Asylum stands as the epicentre of his rule, a labyrinthine fortress where control manifests not merely through chains or locks, but through the very architecture of terror and the alchemy of the mind. To grasp how he commands everything around him, one must dissect the interlocking systems he has forged, each a cog in a machine designed to grind autonomy into dust.
At the heart lies the asylum itself, a structure engineered for perpetual disorientation. Secret passages twist through its bowels, known only to Nicolas, ensuring no inmate grasps the full layout. Builders are rotated in groups, each modifying the last’s work, so that even the walls betray their inhabitants. Corridors bristle with mirrors and clocks, the former reflecting distorted horrors, the latter clanging in discordant rhythm to erode sanity. Ground floor cells hold one or five inmates at Nicolas’s whim, discomfort calibrated to his mood. Above, torture chambers boast bespoke horrors: the iron maiden, the brazen bull, a hall of mirrors that blurs reality into nightmare. The washrooms spew sewage, inmates cut beforehand to ensure infection takes root. Every element serves subjugation, privacy a forgotten concept.
His medical facade amplifies this grip. A licence bartered from Irkalla, rubber-stamped by the Thesapien Medical Board after trading six ravaged tributes, grants him unchecked power. Anyone displeasing him is declared insane, committed against their will, then systematically broken to validate the diagnosis. Cure is antithetical to his enterprise; madness sustains it. This authority extends beyond Corax, allowing him to pluck thesapiens from villages, branding them mad for imagined slights.
Mesmerism forms the invisible web. His gaze compels obedience, induces hope or despair at will. He unlocks cells to stage escapes, only to recapture with theatrical flair. Drugs, Webster’s genius distilled, suppress resistance: inhibitors dull the will, serums bend minds. He doses wine, offers brandy, each sip a chain. Yet Allyra, the third Immoless, resists where others shatter, her defiance a rare thorn in his design.
Surveillance permeates all. Ravens like Ghorab shadow targets, mirrors in the Anubium of Irkalla track Immortalis movements. Ghouls and porters execute his whims, Chives the decayed enforcer hobbling through endless tasks. Mutants, headless, weebles from Ard Quahila form his grotesque militia, unleashed or contained as needed. Irkalla contracts bind souls, his ledger inscribing fates.
Even nature bends. Rain falls indoors when irked, electricity surges through cells, underfloor heating blisters feet. He engineers plagues, mutagens, hybrid horrors like Arachron, the spider-beast of mismatched limbs and clockwork joints. Fashion enforces hierarchy: his top hat tallest, rivals’ heads mounted as warnings. Theatres stage betrayals mirroring his obsessions, circuses parade chaos he directs.
Control peaks in intimacy’s guise. With Allyra, he merges Chester, his Evro, into fevered unions, sensations doubled, dominance absolute. Yet fractures emerge: jealousy festers, personas bicker, love threatens the system he built. He carves her name into his chest, yet chains her to assert possession. The vessel of Immortalis blood, she challenges his ledger, forcing restraint where cruelty once reigned unchecked.
Nicolas controls through a symphony of cruelty and cunning, where every mirror reflects subjugation, every clock ticks obedience. Corax endures as his masterpiece, a realm where will dissolves, and he alone remains sovereign.
Immortalis Book One August 2026