"I saw—with closed eyes, but with sharp mental vision—the pale student of impious arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together… Frightful it must be, because supremely frightful would be the effect of any human effort to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the World." —**Historical Archive 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕊𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕪, year 1831 — Record No. FRK-013//ΔΣЖл✖⌁▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
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Chapter 1: Fragment 1: The Birth/Rebirth
The storm raged furiously over the mansion, its lightning briefly illuminating the shadowy laboratory.
The wind filtered through the broken windows, making the rags and curtains flutter like ghosts in the gloom.
In the center of that spectral scene, on an old steel stretcher surrounded by cruel instruments, a body covered in bandages lay motionless. It was a mass of flesh held together by sutures, a humanoid figure composed with meticulous obsession.
For a moment, there was silence. The tall, hunched, hooded figure watched from above. His gloved hands tightened around a lever. Silent. Waiting.
It had to match his calculations. It had to be perfect. Not a second more, not a second less. Or all his resources and time would be wasted. No, there would be no second try. It would be...NOW.
Finally, with bated breath, he activated it.
A bolt of lightning descended from the sky like the wrath of an ancient god, piercing the open roof and channeling through the copper conduits that ran through the laboratory.
Sparks flew in all directions, and an electric shock coursed through the tubes, invading the prone body with a violence impossible to describe.
This was the birth of a new Mystery: The False Prometheus. The artificial human.
And then... just as abruptly as it had happened, it stopped.
The standing figure, hunched over, its gown stained with oil and dried blood, took a step forward.
He approached, hesitantly, without looking away.
At first the body remained motionless. Then a finger moved. Then another.
A gasp emerged from the bandages, harsh and labored, and with a clumsy, creaking movement, the figure slowly straightened on the stretcher.
Each reaction only increased the brilliance and euphoria in the man's eyes.
"Its alive! Its alive!" he exclaimed, raising his arms like a delirious prophet. "My investigation was a success! I have recreated God's miracle!"
The man couldn't hold back. He let out a frenzied laugh that echoed throughout the workshop walls.
All his research, his efforts, were worth it.
His most desired ambition would finally be fulfilled.
Only the whirring of the machines and the faint breathing of the creature on the stretcher remained as witnesses to the miracle...or the mistake.
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Pov.???
Silence.
Emptiness.
Darkness.
A light.
A voice.
Laughter.
PAIN.
Broken fragments of consciousness floated in the darkness. Erratic thoughts. Disjointed sensations.
Who...? Where...? Why...?
Cold. Darkness. Pain. I don't understand. Hands. Eyes. Voice. Mine? I don't know. I don't know?
Her eyelids opened slowly, revealing cloudy, unfocused eyes. The air was thick, the metallic, putrid smell filling every corner.
"She" breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling in irregular spasms.
A growl emerged from her throat, deep and guttural. A mixture of rage, fear, confusion, and denial.
It wasn't a language. It didn't originate in reason. It was something else.
Instinctive. Primal. Inhuman.
"Grrraaaah!" A confused roar, a mixture of rage, fear, confusion, and denial.
Victor approached immediately, with a mixture of elation and caution. His voice trembled between excitement and doubt.
"Calm down. I'm here," Victor said carefully, noticing his creation's restless state. His previous happiness briefly subsided. "You're panicking. My name is Victor Frankenstein. I created you."
However, those words brought neither calm nor comfort. Only more confusion.
"Created...? So... before I was nothing? But... I remember. Something. I shouldn't. I remember dying. What is dying? How do I know this?!" Her thoughts were like the sea in a storm: torrential and uncontrolled.
Victor frowned. He extended his hand..
"She" stepped back.
She trembled. Her eyes, though lost, shone with an intensity that didn't belong in a newborn being.
Then her body stiffened, and with a slow, creaking movement, she looked at the man beside "her."
"Victor... Frankenstein...?" she thought with confusion and growing alarm. "I know that name.
What's a name? This is impossible. What's impossible? I don't understand.
It's wrong.
Where am I?
IT'S WRONG.
WHAT'S WRONG?!
"GRRRAAAH!!!!" A wordless voice roared from the depths of his soul, another inarticulate growl.
The entire workshop shook for a moment. Windows cracked and vials fell to the floor.
Victor jumped, surprised. He fell back, his eyes wide open. "This...this isn't right...this isn't what I pictured..."
The roar lasted only a few moments. Her voice was interrupted by a violent cough, and his eyes clouded. The stress of the situation and her actions were too much.
"This...wrong..."It was her last thought before his consciousness faded.
With a final shudder, the baby collapsed. Its body, still unable to support the weight of its birth, slumped back onto the stretcher with a dull thud.
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Pov.Third Person
Victor, breathing heavily, finally stood up. Still amazed, he cautiously approached the stretcher, his mind filled with ideas and thoughts.
This was truly different from what he had imagined.
Without knowing it, he had witnessed both a birth... and a rebirth. And her name... was Eve.
It was no coincidence. Both this life and the previous one were linked to that name.
One: his mother's first gift at birth.
Two: the symbol of a Magus's machinations.
His intention in the laboratory had not been to simply create a living being. No. His goal was more ambitious, more twisted. Very similar to, yet different from, the goals of Solomon ibn Gabirol, who saw in Adam and Eve the key to Eden, this man did not pursue redemption, but rather the emulation of God.
Victor Frankenstein. Scientist and alchemist, obsessed with the illusion of creating the "ideal human." He did not seek to open the gates of paradise, but rather to approach the power of God himself.
He began with Eve. Not to accompany Adam. Not out of compassion. But with the intention that, in the future, she would give birth to Adam. Reversing the biblical order.
Rewrite the origin from creation itself.
He spent years working on a scrap of lifeless flesh, trying to give birth to a "wise and beautiful human being, perfect in every way."
But here his obsession took another turn: Eve wasn't perfect.
She wasn't the being he had imagined.
Nor was this the inversion of the Origin.
Her was a lost soul who ended up in another world and ended up in a vessel destined for tragedy and loneliness.
Or at least that's how it was. His mere presence marked a new beginning.
It was the beginning of a story and a change in the direction of the Frankenstein family, a new legacy.
A new legacy that had just begun.
End of Chapter 1
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Hello. Well, this is my first attempt at creating a fanfiction story, and an idea that hasn't come to mind in months. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it, and if not, well, any constructive criticism is welcome. See you next time.