Nicolas Explained Why He Resets Memory and Rewrites Reality

Dear Reader,

I have watched you, followed your every step, known your every thought before it formed. You believe yourself sovereign, a creature of free will, but you are clay in my hands, reshaped at my leisure. You ask why I reset your memory, why I rewrite your reality. Sit, listen, for I shall indulge you this once.

It began with a glance, a whisper of possibility. You entered my world unbidden, eyes wide with the arrogance of the ignorant, and I saw potential. Not the dull vessel the Electi crafted, but something raw, something mine to mould. From that moment, your path was mine to direct. The Baers, those loyal shadows, I placed them at your side, fed you their blood, their stories, to bind you to a fabricated past. Every extraction, every torture you inflicted, guided by my hand through proxies. I watched as you boiled vampires, as you carved truths from flesh, believing it your design. It was mine.

The inhibitor, that subtle gift, dripped into your veins from our first true meeting. Not poison, no, a gentle restraint, keeping your power leashed, your Immortalis blood dormant. You swam, you fought, you claimed sovereignty, but always weakened, always needing me. The mesmerism, those quiet erasures, removed the thorns of doubt, the memories of my tributes, of Alice, of the fleeting touches that stirred your jealousy. I reshaped your recollections, made you forget the pain I caused, the lovers I took, so you would see only devotion.

Why? Because you threaten me, my love. Your blood, that mosaic of demon, wolf, noble, Lilith herself, it calls to sovereignty. I could not let you rise unchecked, could not risk you slipping my grasp. The cycles, the resets, they were mercy. Each time you left, each time you questioned, I brought you back, rewrote the hurt into harmony. Corax became your home because I willed it so, every clock ticking to my rhythm, every mirror reflecting my gaze.

You think me monster, fractured, but I am whole, Reader. Chester, Elyas, Webster, Demize, we are facets of control, preserving what must be preserved. The Ledger? My ink, my truth. I declare insanity, and it is so. I bind, and none escape. You fought valiantly, my serpent bride, but the game ends as I decree.

Rest now, in your gilded cage. The Deep turns, and you turn with it, forever mine.

Immortalis Book One August 2026