Never Meant to Be

[Rosalynd]

The steps are hard and cold beneath my bare feet as I make my way up to the roof, the pounding clang of each footstep ringing throughout the stairwell. I do not move with care. I stopped caring about my safety as soon as I left that room.

As the cool air touches my skin, I feel reality slam into me like an icy slap.

I was never meant to exist. I shouldn’t exist. No one creature should contain the amount of power that runs through my veins. I was crafted with warlock magic, magic stolen from dozens of fae and witch lives. How many had to die to create the egg and sperm that eventually led to making me? Was even a small part of who I am a part of either Victor Vex or Esther Reid, or were they just vessels for something more terrible? If the nature of my creation were made known to the entire magical community, would I be seen as a potential savior, or a memory of the pain my father caused when he harvested their friends and families, stealing them away without a trace?

I’