I was the last of the Immortals to enter the world before the Order fell. I was taken from my family at the callow age of thirteen. I knew nothing then of what I was about to forcibly become a part of, though if I had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I wouldn’t have understood. 
The process of ascension was a wretched experience, taking me against my will and turning me into this genetic freak. After, they inducted me into the Immortals. The Immortals had once been celebrities, greater than the kings and queens of the land. At that point, they had declined in public popularity, working out of sight, though their presence in the world was known. I, too, had heard vaguely of the Immortals, but knew little of how they operated and what purpose they served in our lives. 
I understood little more after I became one. 
The Order was a special people called to work alongside the Immortals. It was they who raised the new Immortals into the world and instructed our rituals. They were each only human, however, and placing your faith to mere mortals is the surest way to see the end to anything you entrust to them. 
In this case, it was the Immortals and the world. 
There came the generation who heard nothing of their special calling and ignored the baton passed down by the elders of the Order. The information was lost. That wayward generation was the one to raise me. Little did they do to help me comprehend my place and how to undergo the rituals so vital to the life of the world. However, I was a fast learner and was able to play it by ear, mimicking the actions of the others and carried out my obligatory tasks.
The past generation died out, and those who opened their eyes to the importance of their role had now only old texts to guide them in the Calling of the Order. These were few, and they lacked the direct teaching of their elders as was intended. The next generation came, and less accepted their calling. It was not long before the Order fell completely. 
The Order’s mortals were of no significance in the rituals of the Immortals, so we went on for a while, conducting our jobs in silence. However, with the loss of the Order’s guidance, the Immortals suffered. The deterioration of the world began. It was a slight waning, but to the eye of an immortal that sees great spans of time, the change was evident. The Immortals are tied to the world in such a manner I never had the chance to understand, so even we deteriorated in a way. We dispersed, forsaking our duty to the world. 
I didn’t understand, but I was alone. I had to learn to operate in a dying world that resembled nothing of the one I had once inhabited freely. I knew nothing and nobody. I was a freak of nature thirteen-year-old boy living alone in a world of which I had an understanding of that was outdated by centuries. 
Hopeless case for most, but I was a quick learner and had been playing by ear for hundreds of years. Hair dye and colored contact lenses had become an available means of changing your appearance, I had soon learned. It was a pricey means, however, but I tucked the knowledge away should I need to ever look normal. For now, I was just a punk little boy with every stereo-type of emo and goth thrown at me. False stereo-types were the least of my worries.
I also found the world had become more feral, teeming with animosity. I was an easy victim. A shrimp, little boy wandering by himself with a glowering expression. The fools tried to mug an Immortal. To kill one and take him away. Fools. I am a shape-shifter and can take grown men down easily. The looks on their faces as my nose and mouth become more pronounced and tufts of fur spread over the surface of my skin. Those who surrendered were declared insane and put away, and I was nowhere to be found. 
I was fortunate to have roamed without guardians for so long, as a I discovered while sleeping walking alongside a major street that minors were not allowed to be independent. They asked me who my parents were, and I wryly smiled back and told them that they had been dead for years. I lost that cocky smile when they threatened to march me off to an orphanage or some similar prison. A couple who had been listening to the exchange offered to keep me instead. A long discussion between the two parties followed with much paperwork and investigatory work on the couple. They got me, and I lost any form of independence I had or, at very least, the pride that came with being self-sustaining. After the dissidence lost its bitter edge in me, however, I found it to be a more believable cover. A thirteen-year-old boy living with his family. An image I hated, but an image unavoidable in these days or in my own, so I obliged. The issue that immortals do not age a day after their ascension would be one dealt with later.
My legal guardians, I suppose would be the “politically correct” term that wouldn’t offend me, were a magnanimous lot, always helping out anyone they could. I wouldn’t suspect less from anybody who would take me in. I catch those glances pitched at me. I was thankful. It kept me from falling under people who were worse.
“So,” the man who would pose as my father said after we got in the car on our trip back home. “They said your name was Amarr?”
“Yes,” I replied with a slight smile. It meant “immortal” in some foreign tongue.
“I’ve never heard of a name like that before,” said the man. “Where are you from?”
“…Not sure,” I murmured. Honestly, I had no idea of where I was. 
“Well, then. No need to worry a thing about that. You’re with us now. I can tell you’re uneasy about the whole deal, but don’t worry a minute. We’ll do our best to make you feel accepted.”
Now that was nice to hear. Since I was a pitiful orphan found wandering the streets with the police over my back despite my innocence, I had more leeway. At least for now, of course. Now so long as they can keep off my back about my freak appearance, I’ll be fine.
“Err…Thanks,” I murmured. “Err…really. I’m…well…thanks.” What could they possibly get out of this? Am I their baby boy they never had?
“Oh, it’s the least we could do for a young man beaming with potential and no opportunities to become someone! We just hope you’ll come to accept us over you,” the man’s wife’s mouth melted with butter. 
Heh.
The car ride fell silent for a time. I assumed they didn’t want me to be overwhelmed, so I made sure my cold, cynical disposition looked like a shell to cover how grateful and anxious I really was.
I guess they bought it. Who knows?