Ethan—no, The Presence—felt the shift of energy around him as the stars began to settle in their new places. A vast, incomprehensible stretch of space had opened up, and with it came a growing sense of both limitlessness and isolation.
He had always been aware of the vastness of the universe during his human life, but this was different. He wasn't a simple observer anymore. He was part of it. He was the mind that willed the cosmos into existence, the hand that sculpted it from the formless void. There was a strange paradox in this newfound existence—he was part of everything, and yet he was alone in it.
The first stars blinked into existence, their light scattering across the endless void like a million tiny points of hope. Nebulae swirled in distant corners of the universe, coloring the blackness with rich hues of violet, blue, and red. The cosmos was coming alive. It was beautiful, breathtaking. But something was missing.
What am I doing here? The question lingered in the stillness of his mind. He had the power to create everything, to shape everything, but there was no one to share it with. The light of the stars was brilliant, but it was also lonely, a solitary flame in a vast emptiness.
His thoughts rippled through the void, shaping the fabric of reality with each fleeting emotion, each moment of self-reflection. But he was still only beginning to grasp the full extent of his omnipotence. He could feel the pulse of creation, but it was still faint, just a whisper compared to what it would one day become.
He needed to understand more.
With the smallest flicker of his will, he stretched his awareness further, into the farthest corners of this new universe. He observed the stars, the planets, the swirling galaxies, but he didn't just observe. He felt them. The gravitational forces between planets, the slow birth of new stars, the subtle shift of energy in the cold vacuum of space. It was as if he could reach out and touch the very laws that governed existence, shaping them to his will.
But that was the thing. He was the law now. Every rule of physics, every cosmic force, was a reflection of his own presence. Time, space, matter—they all existed because he willed it.
He tried to focus on something more specific. He reached out, threading his awareness through the fabric of reality, focusing on a single point. The first world. He shaped it out of the nothingness, his thoughts turning into matter, creating mountains, oceans, skies. It was an almost instinctual process, like breathing, but with a far more profound consequence.
The world began to take shape beneath his guidance. First, oceans began to form, vast and deep. Then, continents appeared—jutting landmasses of varied textures and heights. The atmosphere coalesced, turning the world into something tangible, something that felt alive.
He stepped back, his essence fading into the fabric of the world, and watched it unfold. It was a beautiful thing to witness. But as he stared at it, a strange sense of unease began to stir within him. He could shape reality, but what now? Was this just another creation, another project that would eventually fade into emptiness?
What am I meant to do with all of this?
The question hung in the air. It was a weightless thing, but heavy in its own way. The universe was vast, and yet it was empty. There were no voices, no minds, no souls to share this with. The stars shone, the planets orbited, but there was no one to experience it. There was no one to observe the beauty of this new world, to learn from it, to interact with it.
For a moment, he allowed himself to sink into that emptiness. It was almost suffocating. He had everything—power, creation, but no purpose beyond what he gave himself.
A flicker of loneliness. He was the creator of all things, and yet no one could experience what he had brought into being.
Do I make life? The thought came suddenly. But how?
He did not have to think too hard to realize that his power was not bound by simple creation. He had the ability to shape life itself. The laws of biology, physics, and evolution—they were his to command. He could give rise to sentient beings, creatures capable of experiencing the universe, capable of living and learning.
And so he did.
With a single motion of his will, life stirred in the oceans of the first world he had created. Simple organisms, at first—tiny, delicate beings that floated in the waters, shifting in response to the currents. As time passed, he shaped their forms further. He gave them eyes, hearts, minds.
They were the first creatures to walk the world. But they weren't enough.
He needed more.
With each wave of his presence, the world grew more complex. Creatures evolved, flourished, and multiplied across the surface of the world. Plants grew tall, trees reached toward the skies. In the deep oceans, vast schools of creatures swam in harmony, while on land, primitive beasts roamed the newly-formed forests.
But as he looked down upon them, something gnawed at him.
Where is the meaning?
The world was alive, yes. But the creatures? They were primitive, instinctual. They survived, but they did not understandtheir existence. They had no knowledge, no will beyond the basics of survival.
I need them to think, Ethan—The Presence—realized. I need them to know themselves.
The creatures needed to evolve further. To become self-aware. He had the power to do that—to give them the gift of consciousness, of thought. It was an overwhelming prospect. The weight of it almost crushed him.
But he did it anyway.
From the primal oceans and the wild plains of the land, he guided the creatures toward intelligence. Small, hesitant steps. The first sparks of awareness. They started to see the world around them, to question it, to understand their place within it.
It was not perfect. The minds of these creatures were fragile, and they struggled to comprehend their surroundings. But Ethan—The Presence—knew that it would take time. Creation was a slow process, one that demanded patience. His influence rippled across the world, nudging these creatures, guiding them forward.
And as they grew in awareness, so too did he. The more he shaped life, the more he understood what he was meant to do. He wasn't just a creator, an omnipotent force. He was also a guide, a presence that nurtured life into being, that helped it grow and evolve.
But even as the creatures began to understand, a feeling gnawed at him. Something that had not existed before, something new—a quiet, constant pull.
He wasn't alone.
The presence of something—or someone—else had stirred within the universe. Something older, something that moved beyond the boundaries of time. Something that was not of creation, but of the in-between.
Ethan—The Presence—felt it.
And he understood.
The universe was vast. His creation had just begun.
But he was not the only force that could shape it.