A sensation...
At first, there was nothing but whispers. Indistinct, shifting sounds that slithered through the void. Then came sensation—a cold awareness, like a fire frozen in place. And then, vision.
It had no ears but it could listen to their murmurs, It had no eyes but it could make out the shapes in front of it.
it saw was movement—shaking figures, kneeling, bowing, whispering fervent prayers. Their voices wove into the residual whispers still lingering in its mind.
A thousand whispers, countless tongues murmuring at the edges of consciousness. A language that was and wasn't. Indistinct, yet familiar. Thought flickered in it—an awareness not yet whole. Then came feeling. Weight. Something pressing down upon its existence, a force both alien and inevitable.
It started seeing clearly..
Before it, figures lay prostrated, their bodies trembling with a mix of awe and terror.Some wept, others clutched strange talismans, whispering fervent prayers in a language it did not understand...yet, with each passing moment, the words became clearer.
"Oh, great one! He who is born from the balance! Answer us, we beseech you!"
It looked down. A circle, carved in symbols that pulsed with light, contained its form-An ever-shifting mass of dark and light, shaped yet unshaped, solid yet fluid, sometimes as smoke. It felt… incomplete. It had not existed before this moment, and yet it was now undeniable. It had purpose, though it did not know what that was.
Beyond the kneeling figures, a cavernous chamber stretched, its walls flickering with torchlight. The air reeked of incense, sweat, and desperation.
A man at the forefront, draped in robes far more intricate than the others, dared to lift his head. His eyes—wide, filled with equal parts awe and fear—fixed upon it.
"Have we succeeded?" the man whispered to the woman next to him. Then, louder, he said "Great one, do you hear us?"
The being tilted its head,if you could even call that. Thoughts began assembling, connecting. The words they spoke, the meaning behind their prayers, the knowledge drifting within the particles of air and stone. It absorbed it all, effortlessly, as though knowledge itself bent toward its existence.
The man took a breath, as if steadying himself, then spoke again. "We have called upon you in our time of need. Our land withers, our people suffer. The world is in turmoil, and only a power beyond our own can restore order."
The being flickered. Its form, undefined yet present, shifted slightly. It felt no obligation. No instinct demanded it to act. There was only a question forming within it—why?
"Who am I?"
Gasps rippled through the gathered figures. Some pressed their faces to the stone floor, murmuring prayers. Others stole glances at one another, uncertain.
The robed man hesitated before answering. "You are… a divine force, summoned to answer our pleas. A being of balance, created from the merging of energies."
Balance. The word resonated within the being. It tasted the idea, let it settle. Then, more questions.
"Did you create me?"
"We… summoned you," the man corrected while sweating profusely.
" Why was I summoned?"
The man bowed his head. "To bring salvation. To restore order."
"Your order?"
The man hesitated. "The world's order."
The being studied them. Through their words, through the particles of energy that whispered through the air, it began to understand. Their fear. Their desperation. Their hope. They were drowning, reaching out for something greater than themselves.
... These beings...they believed they had called forth a savior. But in truth, they had pulled something from the formless unknown, shaped it with their will, and now trembled before its presence.
It understood something then—
It owed them nothing.
It needed a form. Something to interact, to blend. It had seen the mortals, understood their shapes, their features. It let the knowledge settle, then willed itself into being.
Its body took shape—human in appearance, yet formed not from flesh, but from the energies that had birthed it. Black hair, slightly unkempt. Brown skin, neither dark nor light. A face unremarkable yet familiar, handsome yet ordinary, with patches of a forming beard. Eyes dark, shifting between black and silver, holding the depth of something that should not be.
The being took a step forward. The symbols on the ground flickered, then shattered into motes of fading light. The robed man's eyes widened in terror.
"W-Wait! You cannot—"
But it could. And it did.
Without another word, the being walked past them, past their prayers and desperation, into the world beyond.
They looked in horror, reverence and anxiety as it went outside.
Outside, the night air was cool, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the chamber. It stepped onto grass—damp, alive, real. A forest stretched around it, dark and vast, the trees whispering secrets of wind and time. Above, the sky stretched endless, speckled with distant stars.
It walked.
With each step, its senses expanded. It absorbed the knowledge carried by the wind, by the ground beneath its feet. It felt the pulse of life in the creatures hidden in the underbrush, in the insects humming unseen. The world spoke, and it listened.
It kept walking, observing, feeling everything around it—the soft rustle of the wind through the leaves, the distant howl of a creature unknown, the moss covered on stones. The world pulsed with energy...wild, alive, imperfect, and beautiful.
A flicker of something stirred in its chest. Not pain. Not instinct. Something else.
Curiosity.
Its gaze dropped to a patch of wildflowers at its feet—delicate, vibrant things stretching toward the stars. One bloom, a soft violet with shimmering petals, seemed to tilt toward it as if offering itself.
It knelt and reached out.
Fingers..newly formed, awkward yet precise...brushed against the petals. They bent gently beneath its touch, releasing a faint, earthy fragrance. Something primal and old.
And then, it did something it did not need to do.
It inhaled.
Air filled its lungs—lungs it had only just formed. The scent of soil, life, wind, and warmth flooded its senses. The act was unnecessary. But the sensation…
It was exhilarating.
The scent. The air. The breath.
It was not survival. It was not instinct.
It was a choice.
A delight.
A wonder.
A first.
And in that moment, without knowing why—it smiled.
Because that First Breath...
was not just a beginning.
It was life.
And it was ...his own.