I remember no womb, no cradle, no parent to speak my name. My first memory is of a sensation that is cold, gentle, and endless. Mist. The etheric vapour curled around me like a question waiting to be answered. I did not open my eyes, for I had no eyes then, nor did I breathe, for breath belongs to creatures who fear death. I was, drifting as a silent thought in the fog.
But in that drifting a pulse stirred. A heartbeat that was not quite a heartbeat. A command. A knowing.
Become.
The mist thickened, swirling inward, gathering itself around an emptiness that longed to be form. And from vapour, a shape assembled. Fingers, hesitant but curious. A chest, hollow, yet radiant with newborn will. Limbs woven from softness that slowly hardened into substance. When at last I lifted my head, I felt mist slipping off me like the remnants of a dream.
I stood, if it can be called standing, upon a land that was not yet land. Beneath me lay a surface without texture, a colour without hue, a place that stretched in every direction and none. It was the canvas of a world unfinished.
I was alone. Yet the mist still moved as though it knew me.
I raised my hand. The vapour rose to meet it.
The ether that birthed me responded willingly, twisting into spirals that brushed my palm like loyal companions. It waited. I waited. And then understanding unfurled inside me like dawn.
I was not merely born from the mist. I was meant to shape it.
A quiet certainty settled in my core. The formless land, this blank plane, required a beginning, a centre, a declaration that existence had arrived.
So I breathed a word I did not know I knew.
"Rise."
The mist quivered. The ground trembled beneath my feet though it had no reason to, no foundation, no stone. Yet my will imposed itself upon nothingness, and nothingness obeyed.
From the vapour, pillars formed thin at first, like long fingers reaching skyward. They twisted, expanded, and wrapped around each other, solidifying into columns of pale stone. More mist rolled across the shapeless ground, and wherever it touched, matter crystallised. Towers spiralled upward, latticed in frost-like patterns. Walls swept outward in curving arcs, their surfaces shimmering with the memory of clouds.
A thrill, my first true feeling, rushed through me.
Creation.
Not the soft forming of my own body, but deliberate, commanded creation. I was sculptor and clay, architect and storm. With every motion of my hand, the vapor responded eager, obedient.
I stepped forward. The land beneath me firmed, becoming a pathway of smooth silver stone. Above, the sky thickened from blank nothing into a swirling ceiling of grey, as though the heavens themselves leaned closer to witness my work.
"More," I whispered.
The mist surged outward like a tide.
A great courtyard formed first, wide, circular, and elegant in its simplicity. Its tiles reflected the faint glow that emanated from me. I felt the castle taking shape not only around me but through me, as though my thoughts were pouring into the fog and hardening into architecture.
A central keep rose next. Sharp angles mixed with flowing curves, giving it the appearance of something both ancient and newborn. The walls were tall, ridged with ethereal patterns that looked almost alive. Balconies spiralled around its sides like ribbons of stone.
At the summit, the mist hesitated, waiting for my instruction. I closed my eyes not to see darkness, but to listen to the pulse inside me. It guided my vision.
Thin, elegant towers burst upward, each one branching at its peak like crystalline trees reaching for a sky that still had no sun. They were beautiful cold, radiant, impossible.
"Let the mist bind you," I murmured.
Bands of vapour wrapped around the spires, twisting into arcs and bridges that connected each tower with another, forming an intricate web. The structure hummed with a vibration that resonated in my chest.
This was no ordinary castle. It was alive with the very essence that formed me.
I walked through the archway of the main gate, though no gate existed yet. The mist sensed my intention and collapsed inward, weaving itself into a grand set of doors tall, symmetrical, carved with shifting patterns that seemed to breathe.
I entered the great hall.
The moment my foot touched the floor, the vapour gathered around me again. It formed sweeping columns, soaring high overhead into a vaulted ceiling that glittered with faint stars, stars crafted from condensed ether.
I ran my fingers along one of the columns. The stone was cool but soft, as though the mist still lingered within it, waiting to be summoned again.
A strange loneliness stirred within me.
I was the first. But would I be the only?
The thought drifted away like smoke. Perhaps the future would answer. For now, the castle required completion.
I raised both hands, palms outward. The hall expanded, walls stretching farther than the boundaries of the world around them. Mist cascaded down like waterfalls from the ceiling and pooled on the floor, solidifying into long, ornate tables, towering bookshelves, and windows that looked out upon a horizon that did not yet exist.
Room by room, level by level, the castle grew a sprawling labyrinth of chambers, corridors, staircases, and balconies. Some rooms I shaped with clarity; others formed instinctively, as though the mist knew the shape of my mind better than I did.
When at last I reached the highest balcony, the air around me thinned. From this height, I saw the castle's full form silent, vast, gleaming faintly with the breath of its creator.
My castle.
My beginning.
Yet beyond its outer walls, the world remained empty. Blank. Waiting.
The mist coiled at my feet, lifting gently as though it asked a question.
What now?
"I do not know," I admitted.
The honesty surprised me. I was new so new that even the word purpose felt unfamiliar. But I gazed across the barren expanse and felt something awaken within me.
A promise.
"This place will not remain formless," I said softly. "I will give shape to this world. One breath at a time."
The mist curled around my arm like an embrace. And in that silent gesture, I felt something like companionship.
My first creation was complete. My castle stood tall against the endless void.
And I being born from the ether had taken my first step into existence