Something in her tone made the space ripple once more, thin veins of gold spread from her feet and reached down into infinity until it seemed the emptiness itself had grown roots from her. The glowing lines lingered for a long second before fading.
“I… what?” The words caught rough in my throat as I tried to focus. “Your sleep? Who areyou?”
My question wasn’t born of defiance or demand—only confusion and the sharp edge of disbelief. She didn’t appear offended. Instead, a small, wistful smile touched her lips, as if she’d been waiting centuries for someone to ask her that question.
“I am the one who dreamed this universe into being. Heaven. Hell. Earth. Everything that exists between and beyond them. I created it, and then I slept.”
Her words should have been impossible, yet the instant she spoke them, something inside me knew they were true. My eyes widened as shock and confusion collided inside me. A thousand questions burned to be asked, but none made it past my lips. All I could do was stare, caught between fear and awe.
My throat tightened. “You’re saying you?—”
“Yes.” She didn’t let me finish. “I am the beginning of what you know. The Creator. And now, because of you, I am awake again.”
That part hit harder than the rest.Because of me.Whatever I had done—whatever power I’d pulled from the stars—had been enough to wake the Creator from her sleep. I didn’t know whether to be terrified or amazed.
I knew I needed to introduce myself, to explain everything. But how did you tell the one who built a world that it had torn itself apart?
“My name is Kieran,” I finally managed. “I’m from Alfemir—a city that exists above Earth but beneath the gates of Heaven. It’s a place that’s been swallowed by war.”
War.The word felt small, too mortal to contain what the angels and wyverns of Alfemir had lived through—the genocides, the upper triads’ control through the Archangels, the endlessdestruction. I held the Creator’s gaze, expecting some kind of reaction, but she only watched me, patient and steady.
“And who has waged this war?” she asked.
“The upper triad,” I said, trying to not show my disgust at their mere mention.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m well aware of them. I created the triads to keep the balance while I slept.”
Her tone wasn’t defensive, only measured, as if she were weighing what she already knew against whatever I was about to say.
“But somewhere along the way, they stopped serving ‘balance’ and started serving themselves,” I continued, pushing past my own discomfort at talking to our Creator about her own subjects. “They rule over us—over everyone beneath the heavens—claimg that they’re enforcing ‘divine order.’”
She laughed at that—not cruelly, but with a genuine spark of surprise that lit her eyes and softened her mouth into a smile, as if I’d said something so absurd and unexpected she couldn’t help herself.
“Divine order?” she echoed, the faintest hint of humor in her voice. “Whose divine order?Mine?”
The question hung in the air, quiet but pointed.
I swallowed hard. “Theysayit’s yours.”
The white light of the void flickered and dimmed in an instant, her features tightening—eyes narrowing, lips pressing thin. For a heartbeat, the air grew heavier, pressing against my skin. Then it wasgone, as if it had never existed in the first place.
When she didn’t speak, I continued, the words spilling faster now.
“For most of Alfemir’s history, they’ve claimed to preserve order. In their minds, it’s purification—cleansing impurity from angel society to maintain balance. But every time they’ve acted,every time they’ve slaughtered in the name of preservation, it’s never been about balance. It’s been about control.”
I swallowed the emotion clogging my throat as I thought back to all of their senseless violence and the amount of lives taken.
“The wyverns were the first to fall. They called it a necessary correction of balance—through eradication. They killed most of their kind, whole generations of families, all because one wyvern refused to bend to their will.”
Her expression didn’t change, but the low hum returned, darker and heavier this time. Chills broke across my skin in response to the noise alone.
“Then came Alfemir,” I said. “A rebellion formed. It started as a civil war—those who wanted freedom against those Archangels loyal to the upper triads. Anyone born with the affinities tied to the rebel factions were hunted in the wake of the war. Everyone else had their minds wiped clean, their memories erased as if that part of history and those affinity powers never existed. Until recently, the Archangels had hidden the truth from all of Alfemir.”
The Creator’s gaze drifted over my face as I explained, sorrow flickering in her expression as her mouth turned down in a slight frown, but she said nothing.
I exhaled slowly, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Some escaped to Earth…but many didn’t. From that moment on, anyone born with those same affinities was marked for eradication.”
She inclined her head, the smallest acknowledgment, but her eyes stayed on me—sharp, thoughtful, weighing every word.
