So, how did you find out about your powers?
I have never “found out” about them. I had them since I first came to be, and they were as natural to me as breathing is to humans.
Well… How was it? When you ‘came to be’?
I would love to know the answer to that as much as you do. Possibly even more, I would argue. I do not recall ever being born, truth be told, neither do I remember being created, or ever even having a genuine reason for my existence. All I ever had ever known was simply that I was, I am, and that I always will be. I’ve spent millenia trying to uncover the dark recesses of my mind, possibly filled with memories as to what was before the long dark, before this world was. Possibly even before I was. Unfortunately, those attempts were fruitless. No matter how much I concentrated, no matter how long I tried or what I attempted to create, my earliest memory would always be of me floating in the long dark of nonexistence. I think I might’ve even been grateful for all the silence and peace.
Oh. That’s kind of sad.
It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t disappointed with the answer myself.
Well, if that’s all you can tell me about your early life, how about the later stuff? You know, before I found you on that rock and all.
You want to ask about my slumber?
I mean, if you don’t mind.
It’s perfectly fine. After I created the basis for creation, I spent much time trying to see what it was that I wanted creation to be. I had omnipotence, but that all didn’t matter much if I didn’t have a purpose. I spent the first few millennia creating various galaxies and creatures; a multitude of thoughts, voices, and lives. Some managed to flourish, most didn’t, and I had to discard many designs by my own hand. After countless creations and unfathomable time, I started… feeling something, I would say. I truly cannot express what exactly it was that I felt, but it was as if the universe itself hung a clock over me, biding time for my end. My time left suddenly felt ever so incredibly miniscule, and for once, I feared what might be, and that whatever might be might not include me. I spent a few years in panic, of course, scouring existence to try and find what it was that caused my sorrow, but I quickly just accepted that… well, that’s what was meant to be. I spent my final years in that previously desolate vastness creating my soon-to-be tomb, and counting the time until that tomb is finally put to use.
You just accepted that? God of all creation, and you are going to accept your death?
What else would you have done? I came to be for no reason, and I came to accept that I would stop being for no reason. I was created for a purpose I will never know, and once it is over, my time in the mortal plane will be, too.
...That’s depressing.
But it is reality. I govern what I can, and what I cannot must govern me. Everything comes from something, and so, I must have come from somewhere. From someone, even. I spent much time thinking over who would have wanted to create me, and if they even viewed me as a worthwhile endeavor. That second part, frankly, has always been my biggest concern, since my creation must have been costly. You cannot create something from nothing. There exists a balance in the universe of what is and what isn’t. There must always be as much that “is” as there was before, and there must always be as much that “isn’t” as there was before. There must always be a cost.
And, well, I cannot tell you how much time I spent fearing for what was the cost of creating a god.