Immortalis Is Not for Those Who Want Predictable Characters
In the shadowed expanse of Morrigan Deep, where eternal dusk cloaks the machinations of immortals, the characters of Immortalis defy every expectation. Readers accustomed to archetypal figures, those neatly boxed villains or brooding heroes of lesser tales, will find no such comforts here. The Immortalis are fractured prisms, refracting light into something sharp and unrelenting, their motives as tangled as the barbed wire snares of Varjoleto Forest. Nicolas DeSilva, for instance, is no mere sadist cloaked in eccentricity. He is a conductor of chaos, his every caprice a deliberate stroke against the canvas of The Deep. One moment he parades as the jester in garish plaid, levitating chairs and spinning gramophones with rotting heads; the next, he is the Long-Faced Demon, elongating his skull in fits of lust or rage, his canines bared not for blood alone but for the exquisite terror preceding it.
This unpredictability stems from the very ontology of the Immortalis. They are neither thesapiens nor vampires, but a class unto themselves, split by Primus into Vero and Evro, true self and primal urge. Theaten embodies refined nobility, hosting banquets where light and shadow fall with aesthetic precision, yet his Evro, Kane, lurks in the wilds, a masked beast who communicates through machete arcs and bear traps. Their merger, rare and volatile, unleashes a force that rends bodies without remorse. Nicolas complicates this further, his Evro Chester manifesting as a silver-chained seducer, while Webster lurks in mirrors, the rational architect of tortures like the Nerve Harp or the Void Capacitor Chair. These facets do not merely coexist; they argue, overlap, and drive Nicolas to feats both brilliant and grotesque, from assembling Arachron, the bio-mechanical spider, to flooding attics with sewage for the sake of hygiene experiments.
Even secondary figures evade predictability. Behmor, King of Irkalla, rules six circles of torment with bureaucratic indifference, his Evro Tanis a monstrous glacier-roamer, yet both share a laziness that borders on the comic. The Ledger itself, inscribed in the Anubium, narrates with sardonic authority, revealing truths that twist the narrative like a breaking wheel. Allyra, the third Immoless, born of demonic error, rejects her Electi breeders with boiling cauldrons and shuriken throws, her path a serpentine ascent from sacrificial pawn to co-regent of Corax, swallowing Lilith whole in Orochi form.
What binds these figures is not alignment with reader expectations, but their relentless subversion of them. Nicolas does not conquer through raw might alone; he engineers ecosystems of horror, from triffid plagues to leech legions, his love for Allyra a volatile brew of possession and protection. Theaten’s elegance crumbles into primal fury, Behmor’s indolence masks Irkalla’s ledgers of doom. Immortalis thrives on this volatility, where mercy flickers like a dying candle in the brazen bull, and every alliance frays under appetite’s weight. For those seeking predictable redemption arcs or tidy moralities, turn away. Here, characters are alive, unpredictable, and utterly unyielding.
Immortalis Book One August 2026