Sanathiel fled the orphanage, his hands still stained with blood and his soul heavy with guilt. The echoes of screams and the scent of burning clung to him as he moved through the forest. The trees seemed to judge him with disapproval, yet they also shielded him from a world that would never understand what he had just done.
He stumbled, exhausted, onto the damp ground. His body trembled—not just from the cold, but from fear. "What am I?" he wondered as he stared at his hands, now empty but still tainted by the memory of the violence he had unleashed.
That was when he appeared—a man with an imposing presence, calculating eyes, and an air of authority he didn't bother to hide. It was Fallian.
—"What do we have here?" he murmured, leaning closer to examine him.
Sanathiel tried to back away, but his strength failed him. The wolves that had accompanied him until now remained still, watching Fallian with respect.
Excerpt from Fallian's Journal (May 1st, mid-19th century):"The first time we crossed paths was during my journey to the village of Lozère. The boy I found was... different. My first encounter with him was as unexpected as it was revealing. The wolves obeyed him. His eyes—an inhuman shade of yellow—looked at me as if they could see beyond my flesh and bones. I knew then there was something special about him, something science could unravel."
Sanathiel woke in a different place—a cold, sterile laboratory. Though he was wounded, the gashes on his body were already beginning to close rapidly. Fallian, fascinated, jotted notes in a small notebook while murmuring to himself.
Excerpt from Fallian's Journal (July 7th):"I decided to take him with me. I treated his wounds using my knowledge, but soon discovered the boy had the power to heal himself. That's when the idea for the experiments came to me. His blood, his nature—everything pointed to something unique. Perhaps his blood could hold the cure for diseases that modern science could not even touch."
Trapped in that place, Sanathiel couldn't understand what the man truly wanted from him. At first, Fallian had seemed kind—giving him food and a safe place to sleep. But things quickly changed. The man began drawing his blood, conducting endless tests.
—"Your blood is special, Sanathiel," Fallian would say with a smile that never reached his eyes. "You are a miracle of nature."
Sanathiel didn't feel like a miracle. He felt like an object. With every experiment, his hatred for Fallian grew—but so did his understanding of what he was capable of. He learned to control his regeneration, to use his strength, and to realize that Fallian wasn't interested in his well-being... only his power.
Excerpt from Fallian's Journal (October 12th):"The boy is showing signs of awareness... of rebellion. He's tried to escape multiple times, but I still hold his trust—at least for now. If the Thirteen discover what I've done, I'll be ruined. But if I perfect this discovery, history will remember me as the savior of mankind."
Time passed, and Sanathiel began planning his escape. Fallian kept him under lock and key, but every passing day made Sanathiel stronger and more aware.
One day, while Fallian spoke to the leaders of the Thirteen, Sanathiel overheard part of their conversation:
—"He's not just a boy," Fallian said. "He's a weapon. His blood can change the course of humanity."
That was when Sanathiel understood—he wasn't a person to them. He was an experiment. Whatever trust he had once placed in Fallian crumbled entirely.
Excerpt from Fallian's Journal (December 19th):"Sanathiel has reached a level of power I didn't anticipate. He's no longer the frightened boy I found in the Lozère woods. Now, he's an uncontrollable force. I've lost control, and the community knows it. They no longer need me. My days are numbered. My only hope is to ensure my research doesn't fall into the wrong hands. I must protect the journal and find a way to stop what I've begun."
Sanathiel didn't wait any longer. In a surge of fury, he broke free from his restraints and destroyed Fallian's lab. Though the man tried to escape, Sanathiel caught him.
—"You thought you were a god," Sanathiel whispered, staring him down one last time. "But you were just another monster."
Sanathiel closed the journal and looked at it for a moment before throwing it into the fire. The flames devoured Fallian's words, but not the memories that haunted him.
"I'll never be free from my past," Sanathiel thought. "But I won't let them control my future, either."
As the ashes of the journal scattered, Sanathiel stood with renewed determination. The weight of his history was no longer a chain—it was a reminder of his strength and the war he had to wage. He knew his blood was still the key to the power the Thirteen sought, but this time, he wouldn't be their slave.
The Community:
The air was thick in the chamber where the leaders of the community gathered, the silence broken only by the soft flicker of the lights. Shadows danced on the walls, reflecting the tension that filled the room.
Lionel, seated at the far end of the table, held a vial containing a sample of Sanathiel's blood. He rolled it between his fingers with a mix of fascination and disgust, fully aware of the immense power it held.
—"This isn't just blood," said Björn, his deep voice full of authority. "It's history, heritage... and danger."
Lionel smiled coldly, lifting the vial so the light caught its contents.
—"It's power, Björn. Pure power. And as long as we hold it, the community remains untouchable."
Maurice, always cautious, flipped through the latest experiment reports. His expression was serious, almost grim.
—"We must be aware of the limits," he warned, raising his eyes to the others. "Sanathiel's blood doesn't just grant power—it also corrupts. Experiments show that those who use it too long eventually lose their sanity."
Björn slammed a fist onto the table, the sound echoing through the room.
—"That's irrelevant. We need results, not warnings. The community teeters on the edge of civil war. If we don't consolidate our strength now, we'll fall."
Lionel watched Björn with a satisfied smirk, raising the vial once more.
—"Sanathiel doesn't need to know how much we depend on this," he said with disdain. "As long as he believes he's in control, we can use him as a weapon without him suspecting a thing."
Maurice and Björn exchanged looks. Both felt the unease that Lionel's arrogance brought. He didn't seem to understand the true danger Sanathiel represented.
What none of them knew was that Sanathiel was already two steps ahead.
In a hidden laboratory deep within the community's walls, Maurice observed through reinforced glass. On the other side, a test subject writhed on a table, his veins glowing gold as Sanathiel's blood flowed through the tubes connected to his body.
—"He's rejecting the blood," said one of the assistants, adjusting the monitor controls.
Maurice shook his head, frustration thick in his voice.
—"It's not rejection. It's incomplete manifestation. His body isn't compatible."
The subject screamed, his body arching at an impossible angle before collapsing, leaving behind a chilling silence. Maurice sighed, running a hand through his hair.
—"Another failure," he muttered. "But each attempt brings us closer to understanding its true potential."
The lab door swung open with force, and Björn entered, radiating authority.
—"Results?" he asked sharply.
Maurice held up a folder of reports, his face tight with controlled tension.
—"We haven't stabilized the transfusions yet, but... patterns are emerging. It seems only those directly tied to the Nevri bloodline can endure it for extended periods."
Björn frowned, eyes locked on Maurice.
—"Are you saying only Sanathiel's descendants can truly benefit from it?"
Maurice nodded slowly, every word weighted with significance.
—"That, or someone with an exceptionally strong bond to him. Like Aisha."
The name echoed in the room like a ghost, bringing with it a wave of tension. Björn crossed his arms, pensive.
—"Aisha..." he repeated, his voice low and calculating. "That complicates things."
Maurice said nothing, but...