When the Creator felt lonely, He decided to make something else — other beings to fill the emptiness. First came the Archangels. Their light was pure and bright, so bright it almost hurt to look at. From that light, the Angels were born, and then the universe unfolded, worlds appeared, and humans came after. You probably know the rest.
But what about me?
I'm not human. I'm not an Archangel or an Angel. But I was made by the Creator too — or at least, that's what I tell myself.
I came into being after the Archangels. At first, I was nothing but a colorless thread stretching through existence. I didn't feel anything, didn't know what I was or who I was supposed to be. I had no form, no name, no purpose.
Eons passed. I watched the Angels come to life, I watched the stars and galaxies spin into being. And I envied them — my siblings — because they knew who they were. They carried purpose like a fire inside them. But me? I was just… empty.
The Creator loved all His children. He spoke to the Angels and Archangels, but never to me. At first, I thought maybe he just hadn't noticed me yet. Maybe when the time was right, he would. But as time stretched on, I realized something else — I was forgotten. I was never meant to be. I was a mistake, an accident that shouldn't exist. So what was the point of me? I was nothing. I just… existed.
More and more time passed. I drifted, lost in the endless expanse of creation. Then, somehow, the current of existence carried me to a world bursting with color and life — Earth, they called it. I don't know why I came here, or how. I only know I kept moving forward.
After I arrived, everything went dark for a long while. It was like I was asleep for thousands of Earth years.
And then — I woke up.
I opened my eyes, though I didn't have eyes before. I had a body now — hands, feet, a face. And with it, something new blossomed inside me — a strange warmth, a spark of something like happiness. I didn't even know what it was at first.
I felt the wind on my skin, the solid earth beneath my feet, the endless sky above me. It was beautiful. All of it.
My first year on Earth was… a challenge. Not much happened, not in the way you might think, but it was the most exhilarating thing I'd experienced in eons. Honestly, I didn't even know what the feeling was back then. Words like "happiness" or "excitement" hadn't been invented yet.
The first year was a clumsy dance. Every time I tried to stand on what they'd later call legs and feet, I'd tumble. It hurt, but I just kept trying. After countless attempts, I finally managed to stay upright without falling. It was wobbly, a constant struggle to keep my balance, but eventually, I found it.
Days turned into a blur of stillness. I just stood there, rooted to one spot. I was mesmerized by what Father had created. For days, I remained still, just watching. The sky shifted from day to night, a constant, silent spectacle. The giant ball of heat in the sky that my siblings called the Sun—looking at it directly hurt, a blinding burn behind my eyes. And the soft, white things that drifted across the blue. At night, the stars emerged, and the moon, casting its gentle glow, influenced the world in ways I was only beginning to grasp.
Weeks passed. Once I felt I had absorbed enough of my surroundings, enough of Father's creation, I decided it was time to explore. To move. To see what other wonders this tiny planet held.
And I fell. Again.
Instinctively, my hands reached out, grasping the grass, the cool, damp dirt. It was through this simple act, this primal need to steady myself, that I began to crawl. Moving was hard, dragging my whole body across the ground, but each inch gained felt like a victory. It was worth it.
Weeks bled into months, and months into a flowing river of time I barely registered. My world was the grass beneath my hands, the sky above, and the endless, fascinating terrain of this tiny planet. I crawled, I explored, I experienced.
Then, one day, the sounds changed. They weren't the wind or the rustling leaves. They were guttural, rough, like stones grinding together, punctuated by sharp grunts and shouts. A primal scent, musky and wild, hit my senses. Following it, I rounded a cluster of ancient, gnarled trees.
And I saw them. They were beings, like me in some ways, but so alien. Their bodies were thick, powerful, sculpted by raw strength, with muscles that bulged like knotted ropes beneath rough, tanned skin. Their heads, though, were small, almost swallowed by their broad shoulders, with heavy brows that cast deep shadows over eyes that darted with a wild, animalistic hunger. Coarse, dark hair fell around their faces, and their movements were jerky, powerful, like predators stalking prey. They were the first humans, I'd later understand, but to me, they were just… other.
Curiosity, that relentless pull, drew me closer. I wanted to understand. To connect. But as I crawled into their sight, their hunt-instincts flared. My different form, my alienness, must have struck them as a threat. The grunts turned to roars.
Suddenly, they were on me. Crude, sharpened sticks, like jagged bones, plunged into my body. Pain, a searing, tearing agony unlike anything I'd known from falling, exploded through me. It wasn't just a hurt; it was a violation, a ripping apart. I tried to push away, my hands scrabbling at the dirt, but they were too many, too strong. Life drained from me like water from a broken vessel. My vision swam, the world blurring into a smear of greens and browns. The sounds of their triumph became distant, muffled.
As my consciousness frayed, as the last flicker of awareness dimmed, I felt a profound emptiness. A final, cold cessation. I was being dragged, my own body now a dead weight, a prize. The world was fading, the last sensation a dull, heavy dragging.
Then, as the darkness threatened to swallow me completely, a light bloomed. Not the Creator's warm, pure light, but something else. It was colorless, yet it pulsed with an intense, vibrant energy. It spread over my broken form, a tingling warmth that seemed to stitch together the wounds that moments ago had been fatal.
And then, the impossible happened. My fading vision caught it: the air itself seemed to shatter. Like a dropped mirror, jagged lines of pure, colorless energy spiderwebbed across my sight, distorting everything. In the middle of the shattered mirror on my vision, words pop up, words that I can't read. yet. The world warped, colors bled, and for a terrifying instant, reality itself seemed to tear. It felt like the very fabric of existence was glitching.
Then, it snapped back.
I gasped, a ragged, life-filled sound. The pain was gone. My body felt whole, intact, as if nothing had happened.
The early humans, who had been dragging me away, froze. Their small eyes, wide with primal fear, stared. They dropped me, scrambling backward, tripping over each other in their panic. They looked at my unharmed body, then at the sky, then back at me, their rough faces a mask of utter shock. They saw not a survivor, but something beyond their comprehension. Something divine. One by one, they fell to their knees, bowing their heads. A god.