Son of the Primordial Goddess
The bed was soft against him, the sheets of black satin cool against his skin. Alex sat next to her, yet still grappling with the sheer alteration of his reality. The candlelight warmth glowed off the obsidian walls, polished to a dark sheen, flickering shadows dancing at the edges of Rose Bloodheart's pale, perfect form. Her wet pink hair stuck to her collarbone, and her black nightgown stuck to her form like flesh made sin.
She moved toward him, fingers light but sure, and enclosed his cheek in her palm. Her touch held a heat that seemed to penetrate beneath his skin, awakening something deep inside. The gentle pad of her thumb brushed against the curve of his lip, a movement so intimate that it drew the breath from his body. Her eyes met his—filled with layers of unspoken feelings. Longing. Relief. And something even deeper, something ancient, perhaps taboo.
"Son," she breathed, her voice a soft melody that wrapped around his ears like silk. "You wanted to ask something, didn't you?"
The intimacy of their positions made it difficult to concentrate. His gaze, pulled by a gravity he could not yet fully comprehend, wandered lower—helplessly but unwillingly. The fabric of her nightdress was so sheer that little imagination was needed. Her ample breasts, plump and tantalizing, lifted with every breath, the dim gleam of candlelight dancing across their contours.
She intercepted his look. She didn't scold nor recoil. Rather, she smiled with affectionate knowledge—the type of smile a mother would offer when catching her son stealing a snack. But this wasn't uncomplicated. This wasn't naivety. Her smile bore no warning—it glimmered with permission.
His cheeks flushed with color. Flustered, Alex made himself look at her again, his throat constricting as he struggled for words.
"I… uh… yeah. That blood—when I was in that coffin. what was it? It didn't feel right."
Rose's hand crept down into her lap slowly while she straightened her back. The candlelight danced across her collarbones and followed the contours of her chest like a fingers from the night, in worship.
"That was blood, yes," she said softly, her voice distant—as if she was remembering something ancient. "But not from any mortal. That blood came from the divine. From gods. And not just any gods… ones who hold dominion over blood itself."
Alex blinked, stunned. "Gods? Divine blood?" His voice cracked slightly as he shook his head. "Wait… you're saying actual gods?"
The words were alien, even absurd, and yet something deep within him began to move—a memory or a whisper. In his previous life, in his research, there had been bizarre tales—myths some ridiculed, some believed. Stories of distant creatures beyond human understanding, whose blood could twist destiny itself. But it was never real. Not even close. Until now.
He attempted to reason, attempted to remind himself that he didn't even know the name of this planet yet. And here stood his new mother, discussing gods as if they were merely another noble family. The surprise must have been written all over his face, because Rose relaxed into a low, wry laugh.
"What is it, my son?" she asked softly, cocking her head. Her tone was free of judgment, full of curiosity.
He caught himself. He'd responded too quickly, too reflexively—as if the term god had always held some meaning for him. But Prince Alex understood nothing of this world, and the automatic response didn't suit his persona.
He cleared his throat, struggled to produce a sheepish grin. "Ah… nothing, Mom. I'm just confused, that's all. You said 'god,' and… well, you know I'm still learning. I don't know much yet."
Her smile faltered slightly at that—brief, fleeting—but then she nodded with warmth creeping back into her eyes.
I know, my son. That's why I'll teach you," she said softly. "But gods… they aren't as far above us as mortals like to think. Imagine them as beings from other worlds, creatures much like us, just… elevated. You've seen other races here already, haven't you? You know we don't share this world alone.
He nodded slowly. That much he understood—there were vampires, dragons, otherkin he didn't even have names for yet.
"But gods…" he muttered, his brows furrowing. "They're meant to be supreme. Untouchable."
His voice faded. Something didn't compute. If his mother had taken blood from a god, what did that make her? Lesser? Equal?
"Wait," he said slowly, looking at her. "If you drew blood from them… then doesn't that make you as strong as they are? Or… stronger?"
Her eyes sparkled with something darker—something old.
"Stronger," she said firmly.
The atmosphere shifted. Her voice wasn't boasting—it was a straightforward truth stated in quiet, chilling confidence. Alex felt the full weight of it land in his chest.
Don't compare me to those wretched things," she said icily. "I am not one of them. I am not a god as they are defined now. I am a Primordial Goddess."
His breath caught. Primordial.?
Yes," she said, interpreting the shock in his silence. "The original ones. The ones who were born as gods—not created. Before the Veil, before the worship, before the divine laws distorted the term. We were the true rulers of the divine world."
He gazed at her in astonishment, and yet something within him believed. Her presence, her aura—it had always seemed bigger than life. Now it fit.
She went on, her tone low but charged with an air of pride. "Certain gods—those who trespass beyond the Veil—I pursued them. I beat them. I drained them dry. Their blood became mine."
She extended her hand, fingertips touching his chest.
"And mine… became yours."
A weird heat coursed through him. The woman standing before him was no longer merely a mother, or even a queen. She was his ancestor, his creator. She had battled gods and stolen their blood… for him.
A still awe gathered in his heart, mixed with something more—something sweeter.
Love. And something else.
Devotion.
But the warmth of the moment was soon tainted by questions long buried deep beneath his unconscious years.
He faced her, low voice uncertain.
"Mother… I need to know. Why was I unconscious all those years? Why was I so weak?"
Her smile dropped, fading into something more serious. A shadow passed over her eyes as she averted her gaze, her voice tinged with the heaviness of ancient remorse.
"That… was my fault."
His breath caught. "What?" he asked, his eyes meeting her crimson stare.
She breathed deeply. As you know, I am the Progenitor. The first. The one that formed our kind. I molded the vampire breed, and with it, I solely established the purity of lines. When I resolved to make you. I didn't desire you to be commonplace. I desired you to be flawless—just behind me. But I couldn't elevate your blood to my level.". The power would have killed you before you ever drew a breath."
Her fingers curled slightly against her lap. Her voice shook.
"So I made you with the second purest blood ever to be—just below my own. I did everything I could to make you stronger, more sophisticated, above any vampire born since me. But your body… it wasn't ready. It couldn't handle that kind of old power. In attempting to make you perfect, I broke you. Your soul snapped under the pressure. You were born weakened, weaker than even a newborn."
Alex swallowed hard. Her words bound his chest in steel bands.
"I didn't care," she whispered. "I wouldn't give up on you. I did everything I could—rituals, enchantments, forbidden bloodwork—to stabilize your essence. But the more I did, the greater the strain. Until, finally… your soul could no longer handle it. You fell into a deep sleep."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But I never gave up. I discovered a means—a procedure that held your soul from disintegrating entirely. I laid you in a sacred blood coffin, surrounded by divine ichor of ancient deities. It sustained what remained of your vitality… but healing was gradual. Agonizingly gradual."
He gazed at her aghast, the world rotating in dizzying circles around him. His heart pounded.
How long?" he asked, the words hardly audible.
Her eyes refocused on his, firm now, resignation.
"One hundred years," she replied.
Alex's air caught. He stiffened, paralyzed. "A hundred…?"
"Yes, my love. You were just fifteen when you initially fell asleep. And now…" A sad smile played on her lips. "This year, you would be one hundred and fifteen.
His jaw clenched. His thoughts reeled. All those years, lost. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again.
"So I'm… an old man now?"
He laughed bitterly, the sound more hollow than amused. "I missed my adulthood… my youth… my childhood. Everything."
But Rose only chuckled gently, brushing a lock of damp pink hair behind her ear. Her voice carried the calm certainty of someone who had seen eternity.
No, my son. You are not old. Not to me. You're still just a baby in vampire years. We do not age like mortals. Our youth endures for centuries. Vampires only really become mature at five hundred."
Her smile returned, this time warmer. "You're still a youngling. Mortals care about age. But for beings like us. eternal. time is just a number.
He gazed at his hands—still unlined, unwrinkled, the hands of a young man. His brain flashed with information he'd learned years ago in dusty books—about the immortality of vampires, their eternality.
He breathed out slowly, the knot in his shoulders unwinding as a tiny, incredulous smile tugged at his mouth.
"That's… good to know."
She smiled kindly, her shoulders visibly untensing. "Now that you've woken properly, your body is stable. You've inherited the strength of your blood." Her voice softened, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Now, I believe it's time I present you to this world… my son.
Alex slowly nodded, still attempting to take it all in. But something nipped at the corners of his memory, harsh and discordant. He raised an eyebrow, the question occurring uninvited.
His eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't say you were here to introduce me to other people? I only recall you… and one maid. Before I passed out into that weird sleep, it was just the two of you all the time."
Her face faltered, shame dancing in her eyes. She wavered, then took his hand between both hers softly.
"That maid," she whispered, "was Nia. One of my most devoted. She's been with me from the start. And she was the only other individual who knew of your birth."
Alex's breathing was caught. "But… why? Didn't you want me?"
She nodded her head, tightening her grip on his hand. "I wanted you more than anything in the world. That's why I kept you concealed. When you were born, Alex… you were so delicate. Too delicate. You breathed hardly at all your first night. I was afraid.".
"I kept your existence a secret, even from the world beyond these walls. I had to. You were my most precious treasure. And I couldn't afford to lose you—not to fate, not to enemies, not to my own bloodline."
He gulped, his chest constricted with unspoken feeling. "So… you guarded me."
"Yes." Her voice was shaking with conviction. "Even from within your own family. Because I have enemies, Alex. Old ones. If they had known I had a child—my heir—they wouldn't have hesitated to attack. You wouldn't have lived."
The reality struck him more forcibly than he'd anticipated. A stinging pain flourished in his chest, grieving the years lost he'd never enjoyed. No sisters to run around with. No sweeping halls to discover. Only quiet… and darkness. But amidst that pain, understanding emerged—along with something more. Admiration. Respect.
"I see," he breathed. "Thank you. for keeping me safe, Mom."
Her smile came back, this time with fierce pride and love. "I defended you because you're my one son… my one family in this world. And I will defend you always. Even against the world itself—forever."
His smile burst, wide and true, warmth enveloping him like sunlight bursting through a storm. Sweetness filled his chest, strange but welcome.
A silence slid by, heavy and delicate. But a curiosity remained at the perimeter of his brain, smoldering quietly.
"But… if you're my mother," he said slowly, "who's my father? And why did you say I'm your only family?"
She blinked, then smiled at him—mysterious, kind… almost divine.
"There is no father of yours, dear."
"…What?" Alex blinked, bewilderment cutting through his voice like shattered glass.
"You were born of me alone," said Rose softly, her voice as soft as moonlight. "Being the Vampire Progenitor… and a Supreme Goddess, I don't need a male to sire children. You, my love, were born solely by my will—formed from my blood, my power, and my soul."
His lips opened, but nothing issued forth. Then they closed again. His mind whirled, reaching out to find something concrete. It didn't make sense—at least, not to the portion of him that still maintained human reasoning.
"That's… how is it even possible?" he finally stuttered, his voice thick with awed incredulity.
Rose cocked her head, shadows falling over her scarlet eyes from her long lashes. "In the world of mortals?