In the oppressive gloom of Vael's royal underchambers, Vespir lounged on a throne of twisted obsidian, the air thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the lingering musk of illicit passion. The realm's eternal twilight filtered through narrow slits in the black stone walls, casting faint red glows that danced like dying embers across the floor. Vael was a kingdom of perpetual hunger—a twisted mirror of Earth, where rivers of molten lava snaked through barren wastelands, forests of thorned vines whispered curses, and hideous demons patrolled with eyes like glowing coals. No sun dared rise here; the sky was an endless void, punctuated only by distant, flickering crimson stars that mocked the light they could never match.
Vespir, the first vampire and consort to Esther, Goddess of Darkness, stared into the scrying pool before him—a basin of liquid shadow that rippled with visions of distant realms. His dark long hair fell in waves over his pale, chiseled face, framing piercing blue eyes that held centuries of secrets. His muscular form, clad in a loose black robe that revealed the hard lines of his chest, exuded an effortless menace. He had just dismissed the naked demoness sprawled at his feet—her leathery wings folded, horns curling back like cruel invitations, skin mottled red and gray. She had been a fleeting distraction, a vessel for his frustrations, but even as he drank from her throat—hot, acrid blood flooding his mouth—his mind had wandered elsewhere.
Elizabeth…
The name echoed in his thoughts like a forbidden incantation. He smiled now, a slow, predatory curve of his lips, as he licked the last traces of blood from his fangs. The demoness had slinked away without a word, knowing better than to linger. Esther must never know of these indiscretions—though Vespir suspected she did, her jealousy a simmering undercurrent in their twisted bond. But what did it matter? His heart—cold and eternal as it was—belonged to another.
Vespir's origins stretched back to the abyssal voids—realms beyond heaven where chaos reigned unchecked, formless and infinite. He had existed there as pure shadow and hunger, a being of emptiness craving structure, power, anything to fill the void. Isolation had been his curse long before any goddess laid one upon him. Then came Esther—the Goddess of Darkness, her jealousy a beacon that drew him from the depths. Their seduction was no accident; Vespir had sought divine essence to elevate himself, to escape the formless nothing.
Nights in the abyssal depths where shadows entwined like lovers—his promises of dominion intoxicating her envy. "Together, we can eclipse her light," he had whispered, his form shifting to match her desires. In their merging, Vespir absorbed her darkness, transforming into the first vampire: immortal, bloodthirsty, a twisted fusion of demon void and godly shadow. The birth had cursed all his descendants—like the distant Primus—with eternal hunger and weakness to sunlight, a perversion of life's sacred balance. It was power, yes, but incomplete—a hollow victory that left him still craving more.
But Vespir's heart harbored a secret even then. While Esther saw him as her equal in ambition, his eyes had long wandered to visions of her twin—Elizabeth, the radiant Goddess of Heaven. Elizabeth's light repelled yet drew him like a moth to flame. Internally, in those early seductions with Esther: Esther is night, comforting and familiar. But Elizabeth… she is fire, the blaze that could illuminate my void—or consume me. He buried this, fearing it would shatter his alliance with Esther. After all, he needed her power to ascend.
His feelings for Elizabeth were a profound, aching desire—rooted not in conquest, like his bond with Esther, but in genuine fascination. Elizabeth represented everything he lacked: light, renewal, harmony. As a void demon, Vespir was emptiness incarnate; her essence promised fulfillment. In scrying visions of her, he marveled at her command of elements—fire that warmed rather than destroyed, lightning that renewed rather than ravaged. His internal monologues revealed torment: She is the sun I can never touch, the life I crave but corrupt. Why does her glow haunt me more than Esther's embrace?
This longing was romantic and tragic. Vespir hid it meticulously—fleeting glances at Esther's scrying mirrors, unspoken pauses when her name arose. He pretended devotion to Esther, but his heart betrayed him in dreams: visions of Elizabeth's emerald eyes, her straight legs striding through heavenly gardens, her white skin glowing under starlight. The contrast to Esther's black hair and shadowed allure underscored his conflict—Esther was safe darkness; Elizabeth was dangerous light. Yet, he knew pursuing her would mean annihilation: She would burn me to ash. And yet… I yearn for the flame.
Jealousy toward Primus—Elizabeth's lover in her Ruelle form—simmered too. Vespir saw Primus as a lesser echo of himself—a vampire descendant who had won what he coveted. This fueled his schemes: helping Esther hunt Hazel (Elizabeth reborn) was a twisted way to "possess" her, or perhaps destroy what he couldn't have. I can just continue to be with Esther until I get Elizabeth to myself, he thought often, a plan forming in the depths of his mind. I dream of her every day. Even when I make love with Esther, it's her face I see. He couldn't wait to have her here—then he would kill Esther, rule Earth together with Elizabeth, and finally fill the void that had tormented him since the beginning.
Vespir smiled now, thinking of his plans as he drank the last drops of blood from the naked demoness he had just bedded without Esther's knowledge. Her body lay limp beside him, wings folded, horns curling invitingly—but she was nothing, a mere vessel. He licked his lips, the acrid taste a poor substitute for the divine blood he imagined flowing through Elizabeth's veins. Soon, he thought, eyes gleaming in the red light. Soon, the light will be mine—and the darkness will bow to it.