Unlikely canidate

Reality VS fiction

It was cold. I was cold. I shivered tremendously as I opened my eyes once again. I was lying on a blanket made out of fur with a matching pillow. There was a candle lit lantern on the wall that casted a dim glow across the stone walls and floor. I slowly looked around and saw a small hole in the high part of the east wall. The hole must be some kind of window, because it was much to small to crawl though. I sat up so I could take in more of the surroundings.
There were thick steel bars in front and a crudely fashion wooden toilet seat in the corner. And that was it. This was a prison cell, and an old one by the looks of it. I looked around some more and attempted to say something, by my throat was so dry and sore that all that came out was a scratchy "hello".
I was wearing some kind of orange and white robe, like something a Tibetan Buddhist would wear. My left arm was also sore, so I pulled up my sleeve and looked for any damage. There was a small hole by the fold, which told me I had been given a shot or something.
It was so cold and so very uncomfortable. I picked up the fur blanket I was lying on and wrapped it around myself. Much better. Where the hell am I? A mountain? A prison? Both ? What the hell do these people want with me? I had a thousand questions and not one damn answer.

After an hour went by, Donovan appeared outside of the cell bars. He was also wearing a Buddhist robe and had a concerned look on his face.
" I truly am sorry for the less than desirable conditions we've had to keep you in. But it's more for your own safety, really. I know you must be confused. I'm here to clear up some of that befuddlement." He said and he made a small bow.
"You've lived your entire life as Peter Stout. You've worked mediocre jobs and done mediocre things and never accomplished any task of worthy note. Your life has been a true waste of your abilities. A monumental waste of time. And the most pitiful part is that you don't even know it." Said Donovan.
" What the hell are you talking about?" I said with frustration.
"You are actually not you, as you think of yourself. What you are is something much older. Something that is not originally from this world. This meat bag you have been inhabiting is only a shell of your true power.
Your are as old as time itself. You're immortal, Peter. Or Azreal, as I should say."
I wasn't believing any of this bullshit story, but I also wasn't going anywhere, so I continued to listen to this psycho's speech.
" You and I have known each other for eons. In this form, I'm known as Donovan. In my true form, I'm known as Banazine. "
"We were celestial warriors once. We served the same God, who was known as Sarendria, the master of fire. We were apart of her army, and more so, her personal guards. There was a Great War between the ancient immortal beings, and our master was defeated. We were the last two standing in her great army, and as a reward for our extraordinary valor , we were spared , and allowed to live on earth as eternal prisoners in a never ending cycle of rebirth , aging, decaying, and death." Donovan said with the utmost sincerity.
" Are you crazy or something? Is that your problem? Do you feel the need to make up bat shit insane stories to justify the sadistic shit you do to innocent people like me? " I said ferociously.
"I can understand it may be impossible to believe, but all of my words are true. You are immortal, Peter. Your body can be killed, but your true essence, can never die. Even in this flesh form, you are still impressively formidable and difficult to kill. And I can prove it." Said Donovan.
" Oh I would love to see you prove it, asshole." I snapped.
"I already have. You've been my prisoner for 30 days now. That's one whole month. And this entire time, you haven't had any water. Not one drop. That would kill anyone, Peter. But here you stand." Donovan said, then he walked away.