“Everyone said immortality was a curse.”
I whisper it into the silence, letting the words hang in the air before they’re swallowed by the nothingness. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. Perhaps just to remind myself that once, people warned me.
They told me I’d be floating in a void when the last sun died. Alone. Forgotten. Lost in an endless abyss.
I smile to myself in the dark. They were wrong.
When the final star flickered out, there was no cataclysm, no dramatic end. Just silence. Slowly, the universe unraveled, slipping into the void like a tired beast retreating to sleep. And then, nothing. No warmth. No light. Just the abyss, stretching endlessly in every direction.
I close my eyes, though I don’t need to. There’s nothing to see here. Nothing but me and the abyss.
The others—the ones who warned me—had never truly understood what the abyss was. They imagined it as a prison, an eternal cold cage where I’d float, powerless, in the dark forever.
But I know better now.
The abyss is alive. It breathes. It listens. It waits. And in that waiting, there is potential.
I reach out a hand, though there is no form to the void. My fingers touch nothing, but still, I feel it. The abyss stirs beneath my will, like clay ready to be shaped. The end of everything wasn’t an end at all. It was a beginning.
“The abyss,” I murmur softly, almost reverently. I feel its presence all around me, deep and infinite. The void pulses, responding to the thought, to the name. The abyss was never meant to be feared. It is my canvas. My playground.
I once wondered what would happen when the last spark of life winked out, when time itself dissolved into nothingness. But now, standing in this endless dark, I know the answer. The end isn’t death—it’s rebirth. A chance to create, to reshape, to become something more than I was before.
The first universe—their universe—had been born from chaos, from a singularity bursting into infinite possibility. But this time? This time, the abyss bends to my will. It waits for my touch.
I whisper the word again, letting it sink into the void: “Abyss.”
It quivers, ready, eager. A deep breath before the plunge.
It starts small. A spark of light. I pull it from the darkness with a thought, watching it hover before me, delicate and fragile. Then another, and another, until the sparks form clusters, coalescing into stars. I scatter them like seeds across the void, letting them take root.
The abyss shifts, yielding to me. I draw out more—galaxies, spirals of light and matter. Planets and moons, woven together with the faintest tug of my imagination. I can feel it all—the energy, the raw potential vibrating in the void.
The abyss isn’t empty. It never was. It was always waiting for me, for this moment. For someone to fill it, to give it shape.
A faint smile plays on my lips as I watch the stars burn brighter, galaxies spinning out in wild arcs. My universe. My design. It’s perfect, yet it’s only the beginning.
Time bends, warps around me as I build. The abyss is both endless and timeless, allowing me to craft without limit. I lose track of how long I’ve been here, how many stars I’ve birthed, how many worlds I’ve spun from the darkness.
And yet, even as I create, even as the universe blossoms in my hands, I feel the pull of the abyss.
It’s still here. It’s always here. Even with all this light, all this life, the abyss hums beneath it all, waiting just beyond the edges of my creation. It watches, patient. Unhurried.
I pause, letting the stars I’ve crafted hang in the void, radiant and beautiful. There’s a quiet in the air now, a stillness as if the abyss is waiting for my next move.
But I know this is only temporary. I know the truth of it all.
The abyss always wins. The stars will burn out again. The galaxies will collapse, the worlds will wither and fall. This universe, like the one before, will die. And I will be left here, once again, floating in the dark.
And when that time comes?
I will rebuild.
I whisper into the void, into the silence, one last time: “Abyss.”
It hums, soft and ancient. It understands. It’s always understood.
When this universe crumbles, when the light fades and the cold returns, I will remain. I will float in the abyss once more, waiting, planning, creating.
From this abyss, I will be the lone architect.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
