A knock at the door pulled me from my frustrated contemplation of just saying fuck it and crawling back into that nice, comfy coffin. The idea was really tempting.
I turned to see a strikingly beautiful woman in her mid-twenties walk in, carrying a tray of food and what looked like a glass of red wine. The sight of the crimson liquid made my parched throat ache in sudden awareness.
Her skin was like pale porcelain, marked with faint webbing patterns along her arms and neck—like delicate veins painted by an obsessive artist. Her eyes were pearl-gray, unblinking, framed by thick silver lashes. Her jet-black hair was tied into elaborate braids, pinned with thin bone needles and black roses.
She wore what looked like a mourning dress—black, laced, and flowing like layered funeral shrouds.
'Did someone die in this place or something? Wait… don't tell me.' I turned my head toward the damn coffin I'd woken up in. 'Fuck. Am I the one she was mourning?' I seriously need answers. That damn goddess just yeeted me here without a shred of explanation.
"Um... hello?"
The strange woman curtsied deeply. "Forgive me, My Lady Returned, for not being here when you awakened. I believed you would be parched when you rose. If this is not the case, them I will gladly correct my mistake in this assumption. I will take whatever punishment you deem fit."
Okay, so there was a lot to unpack with this. But let's start with... "What do you mean by, "my lady returned?" And yeah, you were correct in my wanting something to drink. My throat feels like sand paper for some reason."
The woman didn't rise from her curtsy. "You are the daughter of Nyxaria Vladiscar, the Crimson Widow. You have inherited her scythe and her blood flows through your veins."
"...Cool," I said slowly, blinking at her like she'd just told me I was the Queen of Mars. "That clears up nothing."
She finally straightened, her movements smooth and practiced, like she'd been trained in the art of ghostly grace. She stepped forward and gently set the tray down on a nearby table draped in dark velvet. Steam curled from the food—something rich and meaty—and the wine shimmered with an unnatural sheen, too dark for normal grapes.
I eyed the glass suspiciously. "Is that blood?"
She tilted her head. "Would you prefer it not to be?"
Okay. So. Maybe. Since I'm some kind of vampire fallen angel hybrid now, I might enjoy it? We'll try that later. Answers first, Poppy. I held up a hand. "Let's go back to the whole daughter of the Crimson Widow thing. That's not a nickname I've heard before, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember being related to someone who's royalty—or, like, vampire nobility or whatever the hell this is."
She clasped her hands in front of her. "You were put under a slumbering spell by decree of your grandmother,Velomirra of the Thirteenth Veil, and we have waited these long centuries for your awakening. The Scarlet Widow: Nyxiphage pulsed three nights ago, alerting us of your awakening. According to Misstress Velomirra, your soul has gone through a type of rethreading."
"Great. Reborn. Woke up in a coffin. No idea who I am, where I am, or what I'm supposed to do. Love that for me."
I reached for the wine—blood or not, I was dying—and took a cautious sip. It was… surprisingly good. Smooth. Sweet, with a faint metallic bite. I tried not to think too hard about that.
She watched me like a hawk, waiting for my verdict. I sighed.
"Alright. First, we're gonna establish some ground rules. One: stop calling me my lady unless I start acting like one. Two: I want the full story—no riddles, no vague mystical garbage. And three: tell me your name, because I am not just going to call you 'creepy hot void maid' forever."
The woman bowed her head. "As you command. My name is Selene Marrowveil. I am your personal maid, bound by oath and blood. I shall tell you everything you wish to know."
Good. Now we were getting somewhere.
I took another sip of blood wine and muttered, "Now explain why the hell I was put to sleep in the first place."
"As you wish, my Crimson Bloom." Then she started explaining everything I needed to know.
~ | 💮 | ~
So, it turns out that I am the daughter of a somewhat evil immortal Reaper witch hybrid that was a big deal 12,000 years ago during some war between monsters and the human race while the angels, demons, and the gods had their own little war.
Selene explained it way better, even if her voice was monotoned the whole time:
Long before Heaven, Hell, and the Gods formed their ideological trinity, the world was ruled by a fragile balance between humanity and the Monstrum—a broad term used to describe anything not human yet sapient: vampires, werebeasts, dragons, dark fae, and other nightmare-borne creatures.
This fragile balance collapsed when humanity discovered the Seal of Tiamat—an ancient divine relic capable of nullifying magical essence across vast regions. With it, they began purging Monstrum settlements, believing it their divine right to cleanse the world of shadow.
The retaliation was swift—and cataclysmic.
A big contributor on the Monstrum side in the First True Night War was The Crimson Widow, progenitor vampire and war general of the Choir, Nyxaria Vladiscar, my mother.
The humans' first victory—a mass execution of 80,000 Monstrum in a fortified settlement after activating a proto-Seal over the region. This act was broadcast as divine proof that "night must serve the sun."
Nyxaria retaliated by deploying Widow's Silk, a spiritual contagion that turned prayers into poison. The capital city of Eridug was reduced to screaming ash in under a day.
The Reapers, once divine executioners, chose to side with the Monstrum. Their betrayal marked the true escalation of the war. When they were defeated, Nyxaria absorbed their souls, creating her infamous Scarlet Widow: Nyxiphage, the scythe I had inherited today.
The prophet-king was struck down by Samael, my father and once known as the "Seraph of Purging Judgement", who was revered—and feared—for his unique dominion over divine toxins: metaphysical poisons meant to cleanse impurity from Creation, then still a loyal Seraph, in a controversial duel of purity vs poison. His body vanished, and his death shattered human morale.
The war ended in containment however.
Fearing total annihilation, a secret alliance of divine forces (Heaven, Hell, and the Dragons of the North) sealed the greatest threats of both sides. One such threat was my mother.
Nyxaria was sealed beneath the River Lethe, her existence struck from history.
My grandmother, Velomirra of the Thirteenth Veil, one of the oldest witches to have ever walked the earth, once the Prime Seat of Hecate's Circle, an ancient coven devoted to the trifold aspects of fate: blood, death, and shadow, feared something like this would happen to me.
Apparently I was too volatile. After my chaotic conception—the union of the Crimson Widow and the Ash King—and the implantation of the Heartshard Ruby, my presence caused dimensional vibrations in the tapestry of fate.
Every god, demon, system, and Watcher turned their eyes toward my unborn soul.
Velomirra understood that a soul could not grow while every eye was watching to snuff it out.
So she wove a Great Slumbering Veil—a multi-layered stasis woven from bone dust, moonwater, blood-script, and forbidden rootwork—that would suspend my soul and body outside the flow of fate.
By letting centuries pass, Velomirra allowed the gods to forget I existed, The Circle to cool their suspicions, the world to fracture and soften, making it vulnerable to my awakening.
Personally, I don't think It was just to protect me—it was to reintroduce me into a weaker, slower world. One that couldn't crush me the moment I opened my eyes. I'm certain Eriselyne had something to do with this.
I believe the Heartshard Ruby wasn't just a tool—it's an anomaly, a divine defiance. When Eriselyne embedded it in my soul, the shard was still raw, and my mind wasn't ready.
The slumber acted as an incubation, allowing the Heartshard to fully bond, grow sentience, and stabilize. Had I awakened too soon, the shard might have devoured my soul. Hell, it might have exploded into a world tear or triggered multiversal purging, I don't know. This is just me thinking.
So long story short, all my family members are OP anti villains who are either sealed away or in hiding. My grandmother took the risk of freezing me in time to ensure I didn't wake as a monster… or a black hole. Oh, and my grandfather Azekhael the Hollow Flame, just so happens to be The reaper, crafted by the Seraphim in an ancient experiment to create the perfect executioner. He was built with flame meant to purge: a sacred fire that left no soul behind, burning both sin and sanctity.
Apparently Azekhael awoke sentience and started questioning why he had to burn both the good and the evil. When he didn't get a good enough reason, he turned his blade against the hand of Heaven—and was cast down, his name struck from every celestial ledger.
That's when he met my grandmother and they fell in love.
Selene didn't give me any major details but my grandfather was later sealed by the Seraphim and banished to the Furnace Beyond Grace. Don't ask me what that is because she couldn't answer me when I asked. Apparently there is some kind of soul-oath spell that prevents anyone who knows about it from being able to tell anyone about it. If they try, their souls begin to burn curse fire.
Yeah, it wasn't pretty seeing it happen in person. The smell wasn't great either.
I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and sighed heavily. I really wanted to go back to bed—er, coffin? Whatever.
With a groan, I rose from the couch and stretched, joints popping like ancient hinges on a crypt door. Every movement felt like I was shaking centuries of dust out of my bones.
"Selene," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "introduce me to all the maids and butlers in this estate. I want to know who's who before I mistake someone for a ghost and throw a candlestick at them."
I paused, then added, "Also, I need to know the layout of this place and, y'know, the basics of whatever world I've been dumped into."
Another pause.
"Wait—never mind. I can just learn all that in the library. We do have a library in this creepy gothic palace, right?"
Selene inclined her head with a graceful nod, the braids in her hair barely shifting as she turned toward the door.
"Of course, My Lady Returned," she said, her tone cool and reverent, with just the faintest undertone of amusement. "You are the sovereign of this estate. Its knowledge, its servants, and its secrets are yours to command."