The first thought I ever remember was a gnawing, gut wrenching pain.  My first rational thought although I did not have the words to speak it the understanding was much the same.

'This fucking hurts'

It's ironic really.  My first thought I woke to conciousness to was exquisite agony and it is a constant my entire unending life.  Almost philosophical.. Life is pain and you may rest assured when I tell you this it is not from any basic level of knowledge.  You see I have a vast and deep understanding of pain and it's multitudes of flavors in both giving and receiving.  I'm going to let you in on a secret, but you can't tell anyone.. Who am I kidding you're not even from here so it doesn't matter who you tell.

I cannot die.

At least not in any traditional sense.  You see I posess a unique trait that lets me recover from any wound.  Any.  I have thoroughly tested the bounds of my mortality from hunger and dehydration to being eaten alive, being melted, vaporized, crushed, drowned, burned, suffocated, poisoned.. i've been cursed to have my limbs fall off for a whole year.  Honestly this list is too long to truely do justice so please rest assured i've handled the wrath of gods, spit in the eyes of immortals and equally built and destroyed civilizations for millenium.  Age is an irrelevant number to someone who doesn't grow old.

For a while I lamented on my existence like any other creature.  Why am I here, what is my purpose, who made me this way.. I wanted to be special.  It took me about a thousand years to come to terms that while I am certainly a unique case.. There is absolutely nothing special about me.  No gift from some divine being, no blessings on the everlasting soul.. It does exist by the way.. The soul.. It's real I know this because I traded mine away for super powers, don't worry, I already told you I heal from all wounds.  I already grew it back, it only takes about a hundred years.

I'm on a bit of a tangeant here.. But you're probably wondering what super power would someone who can heal from any wound possibly want? 

Transmutation. 

The ability to change my shape or absorb characteristics of other creatures.  You might imagine being able to live forever gets a bit boring, life has a pattern and if you live long enough you find it's the equivilent of walking a big circle in the woods.  The first circle was new and interesting, the next circle you recognize certain trees that stick out.. the third you you give them names by the fourth your kind of tired and it continues like this until you've memorized the blades of grass down to the count and you can tell what creature passed by where.  The only bit of excitment is when something has a new litter and you get to pick out new names or a new tree takes root and you get to see if it has what it takes to sprout or get choked out by the other seedlings.  It gets to the point you start praying for something to happen, like predicting where lightening will strike or some kind of disease strikes a race causing the food chain to struggle or collapse.

Sorry.. got carried away there.  Moral of the story is it can get boring.  Instead of being a blatant outsider to whatever race or creature i'm observing I can pass my time being one of them, learning them, their behaivor the primitive forms of communication.  It lets me amuse myself.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

What..? Don't judge me.. You live a million years and tell me morals are not subjective to whatever society is in charge and believe it and I will eat my foot.

Moving back to the original point, super power set to the side.  My existence is full of ups and downs.. I wasn't always so sure of myself, I feared death like any other.. I contemplated that maybe one day I would simply not wake up from one of my deaths.  I've long since washed myself of that illusion.. I miss it.  It made life a little more interesting.  Another little nugget of truth for you, I am still searching for something that can hurt me this particular information brings me to my current predicament.

I already told you I cannot die in any traditional sense, however despite my never ending life and transmutational powers I am still limited by physical form.  I can't fly unless I grow wings and while I can make my body extremely fuel efficient I still require energy to burn to complete an action.  Not to mention when I 'die' or run out of energy I revert back to my natural form.  Which is roughly around 4 feet tall, hairless, moderately to exceedingly handsome features with milky white skin.  I have yellow eyes that let me see in the dark as well as register heat signatures and I am cold blooded.  That's right people.. I hatched out of an egg.  Probably.  No nipples and no belly button.  I mean who really knows maybe i'm a freakish abnormaility to my own race.  By the time I woke up I was the last of them anyways.

Based on what little reasearch I bothered to do over a million or so years I place my origins along with the beginning of the races of course I only use vast amounts of circumstantial evidence using my size and particular humanoid traits to theorize I was one of many failed races that didn't adapt well enough to the climate change or any reliable dietary changes that abruptly sprung up.  Did I mention I prefer my food raw? 

Damn, I really like to get off topic here.

So I can't die in a traditional sense.  Forgive me here i'm trying to focus because i'm dying at the moment.  While I heal rapidly I have limited strength and I tire like anything else.  This isn't the first time this has happened but somewhere along the way someone built a whole prophecy about the comming of the Pale One.  The First and Last... There are a few other names but they are all pretty badass, got to love the naming sense of some of these people.  They herald my comming as an inevitability.  I'm surprised the amount of clues that have been passed down and the wisdom of small minds to take heed, they say I come in many forms and I am both saivor and deliverer.  From scratchings on cave walls from primitive tribes to elaborate paintings I had done when pretending to be nobility.  Millions of years of clues and the angry whispers of those I have made enemies of determined for revenge.  Immortals, gods and other extra worldly things like shades or spirits that speak in riddles due to certain universal law that prevents direct interaction. 

Despite it all, here I lie.. Dying.  They struck me when I was out of energy in my natural form.  I gave them a run for there money though, I always do.. I've had a lot of time to brush up on my skills and I can be pretty cuthroat. They brought the best of their mages, a few preists and the most powerful warriors they could find.  Don't ask me why they came for me the reason is always different.  God told me to, the voices demand it, spirits of our ancestors demand retrobution, my families legacy.. Seriously when you live as long as I have you got at least a thousand people trying to kill you at any given point give or take a few hundred.  They struck me down and pinned me with a blade forged in the heart of a glacier, the smith that made it froze to death and a few more people died transporting it out.  Once they had me down they sealed me away.  So here I am.. Hopeful for a final end but my heart is just not in it, I know I wont die I can feel it.  I'm not surprised, however I am chagrined at the prospect of another thousand or so years of being frozen with naught but my own thoughts to keep me company until this sword runs out of juice or someone greedy comes looking for treasure.

So while I wait.. I decided to contemplate my beginnings