Everyone said immortality was a curse, that I’d be floating in the void forever once the last star dimmed.
They were right. The isolation, the darkness—it drove me mad. I had screamed into the void until my voice gave out, then screamed some more in my mind. I had relived every memory—every regret, every fleeting joy—over and over until my mind gave out, too.
None of that mattered. And the nothingness stretched on.
Endless. Timeless. Uncaring.
Sometimes, my catatonic mind would imagine pinpricks of light in the distance. Ghosts of long-dead stars? Or perhaps hallucinations of a broken psyche? But darkness always remained, absolute and unforgiving.
Eons passed. Or perhaps only moments. Time had lost all meaning.
Then, I awoke.
Madness has reached its limits, it seems. I had screamed, laughed, wept—went through every reaction to the infinite emptiness. I was so lost in this madness that it became… boring? How long had it been since I'd formed a rational thought? Millennia? Eons? Or mere seconds?
A strange calm. Numbness. Exhaustion.
Why did I seek immortality? To outrun death? To see everything?
Ironic. It led me here. To the end of everything.
"Hello?" I try to speak, but no sound emerges. Obviously not—there is no air, no medium for sound. Just me and the endless dark.
Ah.
A simple desire hits me: light. I ache for illumination, for the opposite of the perpetual darkness. The memory of those imagined pinpricks of light tantalizes me. What if...?
My will, my entire being, focuses on that singular desire. Light. A glimmer. A spark. Anything to brighten the emptiness.
And then, impossibly, it happens.
A tiny mote of brightness flickers into existence before me. At first, I think it another hallucination, a cruel lie. But as I observe it, the mote only grows stronger, more defined.
A spark in a dead universe.
How amazing is that?
I reach out. My body feels warmth for the first time in ages. The sensation is electric, awakening a long-dormant emotion within my being.
"Ha… Haha."
I have created air. When was the last time I heard something? My laughter sounds foreign, too loud, but it fills me with an indescribable joy.
The tiny spark responds to my laughter, to my newfound joy. It pulses, growing brighter with each beat. I focus on it, willing it to expand, to multiply. And to my amazement, it obeys.
The single point of light splits, and splits again. Soon, I surround myself with a bunch of these luminous motes, swirling around me enchantingly. Each one holds the promise of something more, something greater.
More. I need more.
My mind races. I can create light and air. What else? I think hard, drawing upon memories worn and faded. The touch of grass beneath my feet. The sound of water lapping at a shore. The taste of fresh fruit on my tongue.
As I focus, the lights move. They merge and separate, taking on forms and colors. A carpet of wet grass appears beneath me. I hear the faint murmur of waves in the distance. The air fills with the sweet scent of flowers blooming into fruit.
I laugh again, the sound stronger now, vibrant. I feel more alive, more real. And yet... there's a hollowness growing within me, a sense that each new creation comes at a cost I don't quite understand.
Planets form from my will. Stars ignite, their nuclear fires burning bright against the retreating darkness. Galaxies spiral into being, building back the universe I once knew.
As I watch creation replace void, a realization strikes me. The universe swells with energy, matter, and potential, while I... I am fading.
The more there is, the less I am.
I understand now. The new comes at the cost of the old. As creation flourishes, the creator must wither.
For a moment, fear grips me. To cease existing after an eternity of consciousness? Is this not the very thing I sought to avoid?
But then I look at the beauty surrounding me: galaxies spiraling into existence, the promise of life yet to come. I see the potential for countless stories, countless lives, each infinitely complex and utterly perfect in their own way. And I know what I must do.
I close my eyes, embracing the inevitable. As my consciousness slips, I catch glimpses of the future: civilizations rising, falling, and rising again. Love, loss, triumph, and tragedy playing out across countless worlds.
I'm dying, yet I smile.
In my sacrifice, the cycle of creation will continue. In my sacrifice, I will live on through every atom, every star, every living being. Perhaps, eons from now, when this new universe too fades to oblivion, another like me will awaken.
And they will create anew.
…Everyone had said immortality was a curse, that I'd be floating in the void forever once the last star dimmed. Turns out they were wrong. It's surprisingly easy to recreate the universe in my image.
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