Immortalis and the Dangerous Allure of Being Chosen by a Monster
In the perpetual dusk of Morrigan Deep, where the two suns hang eternally on the horizon and the air tastes of iron and regret, the Immortalis stand as both sovereign and predator. They are not vampires, not thesapiens, but something carved from the primal fracture of creation itself: Theaten and his Evro Kane, Nicolas and his Evro Chester. To be chosen by such a being is to be marked for eternity, a distinction that promises power, protection, and passion beyond mortal endurance. Yet the allure is laced with venom, for what begins as intoxicating elevation spirals inexorably into possession, control, and the slow erosion of self. The Immortalis do not love; they claim. And in their claiming, they unmake.
Consider Nicolas DeSilva, the fractured lord of Corax Asylum. His domain is a labyrinth of filth and ingenuity, where mirrors multiply his gaze and clocks tick in discordant rebellion. To be chosen by Nicolas is to step into a world where every shadow hides a restraint, every gift conceals a chain. He offers sovereignty through blood, merging the vessel with his own essence, Chester’s primal fury, and the calculated chill of Webster. The recipient gains strength, senses sharpened to inhuman clarity, fangs that extend at will, and an Evro that coils within like a serpent waiting to strike. Orochi emerges, scales red and black, a manifestation of demonic heritage fused with Immortalis might. It is rapture, the body remade, the soul amplified. But rapture comes at a price.
The chosen one becomes the obsession. Nicolas’s love is not tender; it is territorial. He watches through Ghorab’s eyes, tracks every step, every breath. Contracts bind body and soul, ownership declared in ink and blood. The allure of his attention is a siren’s call: the greatest being in The Deep, architect of sieges and spectacles, offers his fractured multiplicity. Chester’s wild indulgence, Webster’s ruthless precision, Elyas’s ancient cunning, all yours. Yet the price is autonomy. Memories are rewritten, desires reshaped, until the chosen forgets the cage. To be chosen is to be remade in his image, a co-regent who kneels, a bride who submits, a vessel for his designs.
Theaten presents a different seduction, refined where Nicolas is chaotic. His castle gleams with controlled elegance, light and shadow arranged in perfect aesthetic balance. Chosen by Theaten means elevation to nobility, ritualised intimacy amid feasts of living tribute. Yet his Evro Kane lurks in the forest, primal and silent, a reminder that refinement conceals savagery. Theaten merges only when necessary, his blood a calculated gift that strengthens but binds. The allure is status, the danger the inevitable merger, the beast unleashed.
Even Behmor, king of Irkalla, embodies the pattern. His blood offers governance over hell’s circles, but Tanis waits in the glacier, monstrous and insatiable. The chosen gains mirrors for surveillance, contracts for dominion, but the price is eternal scrutiny, the Speculum watching every fracture.
The Immortalis allure is this: power without limit, intimacy without boundary, a family forged in blood and bone. Nicolas builds empires of mutants and mirrors, sieges Neferaten with plagues and pirates, yet his deepest claim is personal. To be chosen is to become the centre of his world, adored, protected, elevated. But the protection is a cage, the adoration a chain. The vessel carries their child, Absolem the serpentinium, heir to fractured thrones. Sovereignty beckons, but so does subjugation. In Morrigan Deep, to be chosen by a monster is to court oblivion, wrapped in the velvet of desire.
Immortalis Book One August 2026