If someone had told me before- in that place where souls stay before they're born- that my life was going to be hard, cold, and diseased, I would have opted for nonexistence faster than a cell took to divide into another. I would have looked any Creator in the eye and unleashed the most accursed words onto them. Yet, in the end, all those words would be nothing, for it is not Gods or mystic forces that made my decisions.

I made them and made the wrong ones at every turn.

But I do not take the blame for the first thing that went wrong in my life. I do not take the blame for these cursed wings upon my back. Strong-boned and blue-gray-feathered bird wings that have both saved my life countless times and doomed it overall.

I was born a Therianth, roughly half human and half animal. I was born into a world where such a thing was looked upon as less than, and not just me, but everyone who was born with even the smallest animalistic feature. Some have a tail, others long pointed ears, or abnormally colored eyes and odd pupils. The further you look from a human, the worse it is for you.

And this world absolutely hates the ones like me. The Skyborn. The ones who could rule the world if they really wanted to. The ones who long ago did with what I hope was more grace than the fools of today. 

Oh yes, if only we wanted to rise again like how I do, but the rest don't feel the same. If only we could rule, then maybe peace would be made real. Peace, which I have thirsted for my entire life, is the drink given to me once by one human man. That stupid, stupid man that my heart aches for even now. 

The room is fading in and out of my sight. The clone of me is dreaming in the tank of luminous blue water behind me. I can feel her spontaneous twitches against the glass. Some part of me wishes that she had been born on time; maybe she could have met Brandon and perhaps shared that happy-ever-after he was talking about it. 

Ah, this blasted free-flowing wound is such a bother, but it's nothing like Jameston's wound.

"Hey James, are you still alive?" I manage despite the pain to hiss out.

"You-you bitch," he manages through his weak coughs, "you lost everything, lost Draven, your daughter, and now you're dying."

Even near his own death, he tries to take the last laugh; unfortunately for me, the room's acoustics are fantastic, so his cackles are loud and clear.

"For what?! For you nothing! Because you can't stop me," suddenly, he sounds a bit better, and I can feel the grip he has over my body and soul take hold, "you and I aren't done yet, doll. You and me are forever. Letting Brandon and that girl go won't save them from me, especially now THAT YOU MADE ME ANGRY!"

Slowly, he's regaining his strength by taking my life and my power as he has done over such a long time. He and I are anchored to one another by some dark miracle born from his twisted science and my powers. I can't live with this parasite anymore. I refuse to live like this anymore!

"You know," the irony makes me chuckle, "when you take from me, I take from you."

He doesn't look slightly fazed and says, "We have always been equals, and yet, somehow, I always win."

"Well, leverage did all the heavy lifting for you, but you know what's funny?"

"Defeating you is always funny."

That actually makes me laugh. Oh, I'm so ready to kill him.

"This pretty little red button here," his eyes spot the little contraption I'm now able to hold up, "it connects to that little pretty black box to the right of me."

For once, just once, his eyes water with fear.

"Say, I can't survive a bomb if it goes off this close to me," faking the best pouting girl tone I can, I mockingly continue, "If I die, you die too, right?"

"You wouldn't. You could have done so before, many times, but you never did!"

That's also so damn funny that I can't help but laugh even harder.

"I know, I know. It's the most fucked up thing, isn't it? Most live for those they love, but for me," damn it, why I'm I crying now, "but for me, it seems I have to die for them."

Time is slow now, James tries to close the gap between us to stop me but let's face it my finger is going to be faster. He won't make it in time. 

Up to this moment, all that happened, all the rare smiles and good times, and every tear born out of every misery, everything floods me at once. Was this life meant to hold so much and so little at the same time? I just wanted it to be happy. 

I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to take the weak by the hand and lead them onto safer horizons.  

Was the time not spent with them worth it? Was the blood spilled in my name worth it? 

The tank next to me looms in such a pretty blue glow, and I think my youngest sister has started to stir awake. Poor thing, but compared to living as this man's weapon, not living is truly a blessing from beyond. I truly wish now that I had been given such a gift.

My last words, my Brandon Draven, I hope you know I meant them from the bottom of my heart. 

As my finger securely presses down and sends the signal to the bomb, a fleeting moment of weakness comes out of my mouth.  

"I also wanted to say that I loved you both-..."