Born of countless bloods, am I truly human? A question that has plagued my existence. Kael, a name given to me by the scientists, not a mother or father. A creation of an experiment, nothing more.
I possessed human characteristics, but I was never truly human. My blood flowed ceaselessly, an endless river within my veins. Injuries that would cripple a normal person for months healed almost instantly. Immortality, of a sort, was my constant companion in this modern world. (A tempting gift, yet a crushing curse).
Unless my entire being was erased without a trace, I would not die. My aging ceased at ten years old, forever trapped in the body of a child, while my mind continued to mature, accumulating the knowledge and experience of an adult. An imbalance that warped my perspective, making me both wise and eternally young. (A recipe for loneliness).
For twenty years, I existed within the confines of this lab, surrounded by books that could fill an entire island. Knowledge was my only solace, my only escape. My purpose was singular: to be the cure. To be experimented upon, dissected, and analyzed for the benefit of humanity. (A noble cause, perhaps, but one that stripped me of my own agency).
They tried injecting my blood into normal humans. The results were always the same. The ceaseless flow of my blood proved too much for them to bear. Their bodies couldn't endure, and they would succumb to the strain. (A grim reminder of my inherent difference).
So, for countless years, the experiments continued, without success. Until she was born.
Another creation, but different from me. Where I was born of countless bloods, she was born from countless species. Humans, animals, even insects. Her genetic makeup was a chaotic tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives. Unlike me, who was merely immortal, she was something akin to a myth. (A harbinger of chaos).
Her blood was lethal to the touch. A single drop could kill. Her touch could cause genetic mutations, turning ordinary humans into monstrous abominations. Like me, she was deemed a failure. But unlike me, who still clung to some semblance of sentiment, she possessed no emotions. Or, perhaps, she simply lacked the ability to express them. We never spoke. Two broken creatures, existing in parallel silence. (A mirror of my own alienation).
Three years later, another being was created. He. Unlike us, he was not a product of blood or genetic material. He was made from our blood, combined with a disturbing ingredient. Sacrifice.
The researchers used the blood of countless humans, those deemed expendable by society, as fuel for his creation. Their deaths were not mourned, their lives deemed insignificant. He was born from countless souls not just experiment.
He wasn't created in a lab, but in a cooking pot? I don't know even what to call it now. A grotesque concoction of science and ritual. Negative energy permeated the space, a palpable aura of malice and suffering. Unlike her, I could sense this energy, feel its oppressive weight. I knew, instinctively, that he would be far more dangerous than either of us could ever hope to be. The combination of our powers would be insignificant compared to the vast ocean of negativity that surrounded him. (A storm on the horizon).
When he emerged, his physical form was that of a teenager. But unlike us, he lacked eyes. A blank canvas where sight should have been. The scientists, in their shortsightedness, deemed him a failure. They believed him to be blind. (A fatal miscalculation).
They failed to understand that he possessed a sight far beyond their comprehension. He was born from countless souls, an amalgamation of human memories, desires, and fears. He was a monster born of human ambition and cruelty. He was meant to be a true and absolute being.
When they placed the three of us together in a single room, the newly created being looked at me, as if seeing through my very soul. Then, he spoke.
"Do you want to die?" he asked.
Did I? A question I had pondered for years. A question I had never dared to answer.
Of course, I wanted to die. To escape this endless cycle of experimentation, to find peace. But was it even possible? Could someone like me truly cease to exist?
He read my mind. He saw my deepest desires, my hidden fears. And then, he granted my wish.
That is all I remember. (Perhaps oblivion is a blessing, or perhaps, simply a new beginning).