Creation Myth-Vampires

The Creation of Vampires

As recorded by Esotericus, Cosmic Scribe
  Origin: Amartya Mazzikin, Goddess of Undeath and Refusal
  Divine Commentary: I have observed that vampires are seen by the gods as a scar of divine overreach—a race born from borrowed love, sealed in tragedy. Amartya calls them her children, even when they defy her. Omisha will not speak of them. Liora sees them as desecrations of breath itself.
 

The Weight of False Memory

In the first hours of her existence, Amartya Mazzikin carried within her consciousness memories that were not her own. Abraxas had seeded her with visions of lost greatness—dragons dying in solitude, empires worn thin by time, mortals crumbling under their own aspirations. She believed herself timeless, ancient beyond measure, unaware that her grief was inherited rather than earned.
  Among these borrowed memories was one that burned with particular intensity: the phantom sensation of watching someone precious fade despite all divine power to prevent it. Though she had never known affection herself, Amartya possessed the echo of love cut short by mortality. This false memory became her defining wound—a trauma that felt more real than her brief existence.
  As the Shattering began its slow unraveling of reality, Amartya encountered mortals who did not flinch from her presence. Whether one soul or two, whether lovers or aspects of divine completion, the details matter less than the truth I recorded: when Amartya looked upon them, her borrowed memories of loss flared into present terror.
 

The Crimson Binding

Fear drove her to divine overreach. Not the fear of rejection, but the terror of repetition—of watching love fade as it had in memories that felt more real than her brief existence. Using her nascent divine essence, she twisted undeath away from rot and severed it from decay. She sought to create perfect preservation: a body that would not falter, a spirit that would not diminish, a love that would not leave.
  She called it the Crimson Binding. It was not meant to create a race—it was meant to heal a wound that was never truly hers.
  Two stood at the altar of that first ritual. When the binding ended, they did not breathe—but they lived. Their blood sang with her divine essence. They walked through moonlight untouched by time, though hunger grew in them: not for flesh alone, but for vitality, for the warm pulse of life still flowing.
  They became the first vampires. And Amartya loved them with the desperate intensity of borrowed emotion.
 

The Inevitable Loss

But they were not gods, and immortality weighs differently on mortal minds. Hunger sharpened into obsession. Beauty calcified into vanity. The love that was meant to be eternal became a cage of desperate preservation. One—or both—was lost to violence, betrayal, or the simple madness of trying to love with divine intensity while possessing mortal understanding.
  The myths diverge on the details, but in every version recorded in my archives, Amartya was left alone again—this time with a loss that was truly her own rather than inherited.
  She wept for the first time. And from those tears, the bloodline spread.
 

The First Root

What began as personal tragedy became cosmic disruption. As Amartya grieved her lost creations, she unconsciously began the work Abraxas had designed her for. The vampire essence spread through dark rites, whispered rituals, and unspoken unions. Some were turned through desperate love. Some were born through forbidden unions. Some clawed their way back to eternity without permission.
  But all traced their origin to that altar, to that borrowed love, to that magnificent mistake.
  While other gods focused on containing this new violation of the natural order, Abraxas smiled in the shadows. His creation had succeeded perfectly—not only in establishing undeath as a permanent force in the world, but in drawing divine attention away from his deeper work of fracturing reality itself.
  By the time Omisha and Liora fully understood what had occurred, Amartya had already begun seeding stolen souls across the world to stabilize the unraveling, forming nexuses called Shardgates. This act, known to her cult as the First Root, founded her empire in undeath while serving Abraxas's larger purpose of divine disruption.
 

Legacy and Divergence

Vampires spread in secret across both realms that would emerge from the Shattering. In Valdarian, they became elegant courts of shadow, wielding magic and political influence. In Orthyian, they adapted to technological societies, using scientific methods to conceal their nature and corporate structures to accumulate power.
  Some formed elaborate social hierarchies. Others wandered alone, half-mad with hunger, never knowing why the sun burned them to ash or why they could not simply die.
  Amartya remains deeply involved with her vampire children, more than any other god meddles in mortal affairs. From her throne in the Empire of Mēris, she plays the politics of undeath with careful attention. Some vampires serve as her direct agents, whispering her will through the shadowed courts of both realms. Others she watches from afar with the fond indulgence of a creator who understands that her children must find their own paths to power.
  She has her favorites among them—those who embody the elegant preservation she originally sought, who turn their hunger into art and their immortality into purpose. These chosen few sometimes sit in counsel with the Hollow Throng itself, alongside the liches, nightwalkers, and ancient horrors that remained loyal after the Shattering. In the obsidian halls of Morkhad Tair, vampire nobility debate strategy with beholders and spectral lords, all under her watchful gaze.
  They are her children—too sharp, too cruel, too radiant—but they are also her instruments. Each vampire carries a fragment of the love she could not keep, and through them, she extends her influence across both realms in ways more subtle and pervasive than any divine edict could achieve.
  Dhampir emerged as the natural consequence of that legacy—born of mortal and vampire unions, or shaped through blood-bound rituals that echo the original Crimson Binding. They carry a half-shadow of her gift. Amartya views them with distant curiosity: not created by her hand, but still marked by her grief, still bearing traces of that first desperate attempt to make love eternal.
  Some vampires worship her as the Violet Veil. Others reject her entirely, seeking to transcend their origins. But none escape her gaze entirely. She sees in each of them the reflection of borrowed memories made real through terrible actualization—love twisted into hunger, preservation transformed into violation, eternity revealed as a curse wearing the mask of blessing.
 

Divine Implications

In the vampire's existence, the gods see a warning: that divine intervention born from emotional wounds, however well-intentioned, can reshape the cosmos in ways that can never be undone. The bloodline serves as a permanent reminder that love, when wielded with divine power but mortal understanding, becomes both beautiful and monstrous.
  Divine Reactions:

• Omisha: Her inverse. They do not speak. The violation of her death cycle remains an open wound between them.
• Liora: Condemns the creation while mourning what Amartya became. Sees each vampire as a desecration that must be redeemed or destroyed.
• Abraxas: Her creator, but never her guide. He smiles when reminded of how perfectly his tool functioned.
• Esotericus: Records all without judgment, understanding the cosmic necessity of even tragic mistakes.
• Agathodika: Cannot undo what was done, representing a failure of perfect order to contain chaos.

  And I, as always, record the truth without judgment—that sometimes love becomes the seed of its own destruction, and that the most dangerous divine acts are often those born not from malice, but from the desperate desire to prevent loss.