Chapter Text
A small star flickered in the void.
Its consciousness began to form in a slow, almost lazy way, barely grasping the enormity of its existence before exploding in a myriad of colours that spread like fireworks across the empty space.
Its eyes snapped open, eliciting a small gasp from lungs that still didn't quite know what they were for.
Its wings ruffled behind its back, an aborted movement of spreading, before wrapping around it again, almost protectively. It sought comfort in filling its field of vision with something real instead of the black emptiness that surrounded it.
It raised a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, reached out a finger to touch a feather of light. The sensation of contact took it by surprise and it quickly pulled the hand away, bringing it to its chest as its wings opened, fleeing from the new sensation of being touched.
The surprise faded as quickly as it had come. But it was replaced by curiosity. Curiosity about what it was. And where it was. Why was it there?
It looked around, or tried to, for its eyes could see nothing beyond itself.
It was completely alone.
But before it could understand the meaning, it felt, before it saw, the appearance of other existences around it. Other creatures of light that it saw following an awakening similar to its own, their first tentative flutterings, tentative, hesitant, but also amazed at their existence.
Watching from a distance was not enough, so it approached the nearest being with an enthusiasm that made the other creature recoil at first. It paused, unsure of how to react in such a situation, but after a few moments the agitated surprise the other entity had emitted faded and it approached with a gentle curiosity, its hands almost brushing the other's face.
Soon the other beings came around as well. Together they found a word to identify them. Seraphim. They just knew they were.
That question answered, the next one they raised as a collective was what their function was. And just as they had known how to identify themselves, they knew.
It knew it. Within itself, at its core, it knew that it was there to create.
The Seraphim around it nodded. And that filled it with joy. Its attention left the group, their conversation a murmur in its mind that didn't quite register, and instead its whole mind filled with possibilities. Ideas.
Deep in thought, it frowned, trying to discover within itself the answer of how to shape them into reality, and focused its entire being on it. And when a small red spark appeared between its hands, it was overcome by an emotion that it could not name. It let it linger for a few moments until it got used to the feeling, and then continued to try with an huge grin on his face.
Time was not a real concept yet, so it wasn't possible to tell how much time had passed while it experimented, but after several multiple failed attempts it sensed one of the Seraphim by its side. It looked up at it and smiled, grateful to have company.
The seraph blinked its multiple eyes.
“You're here alone. What are you doing?”
That made it gasp in surprise at having someone interested in its work. It raised its arms and opened its hands to show the other its creation.
The seraph bent down to get a better look at the small form of light dancing between its fingers. The little one studied the other's face, trying to read in its expression what it was thinking, but it was unmoved by the spectacle.
“What is this?”
“I don't know!” It looked down and opened its hands wider so that the shape of light could explore its surroundings. “Isn't it beautiful?”
“It's different from what everyone else is doing,” the seraph said in response.
That meant it was unique, didn't it? The feeling came over it again, and this time its mind came up with a name to identify it: proud. It was proud of what it had made. It was something special and the little star had created it. It couldn't wait to share it with others.
“You shouldn't be doing that. It has no function,” the seraph declared, and something in its tone that it couldn't quite identify made it look up again.
“Why?” it asked in a whisper, confused.
“We are following what we must do. The Plan,” the seraph explained, not without patience, as it gestured to the other Seraphim.
Closing its hands, it pulled its creation protectively close to its chest. “And what are we meant to do? Is it not to create? That's what my inner self tells me. This,” it said as it held out its closed hands, “needed to exist.”
The seraph's face formed a small smile.
“Perhaps it was so written and you have fulfilled it,” it offered. “Still, our work is important. We all need to work together to accomplish it.”
It glanced at the rest of the group, which was beginning to break up into smaller ones, all seeming to know what they were supposed to do and moving in order to do their tasks.
The seraph cleared its throat and its attention returned to them. “Are you going to keep playing here or are you going to help us?”
That made it feel a new emotion. Shame. It was not something it liked to experience. Not when it made it feel guilty to leave its family behind when they needed it. It looked down at its creation, the one it had been so proud of but whose illusion had evaporated after that conversation, and released it into the air to float there on its own.
“I can help.”
The seraph smiled and without another word flew back to the group, the little star following after a few seconds.
The rest welcomed it with open arms, and soon shared with it the great Plan they had put together. They were going to create a space where Life could dwell. Where it could grow and flourish. All in harmony, in perfect order.
Wasn't that exciting?
But the more it listened, the more confused it became. For as impressed as it was with all the ideas, as much as its fingers trembled with contained energy to start helping to create all of it, it wasn't exactly what its inner self was asking it to do. It listened to the others, but it couldn't help but think that there was something else that was beyond its reach. That it wasn't doing all it could do with the tasks it was being given.
When it said it aloud, the Seraphim didn't know what to say in reply. This was what had to be done. The work was immense, and it was going to take a long time if they were going to do it right. How could they think of anything else when they were just starting out?
Was it not enough for it?
And the star, the first that had ever shone into existence, lowered its head and did not let the answer that had formed in its throat escape, suddenly aware that to say no would mark it as different.
The morning star had experienced what it was like to be completely alone in its first moments of existence, but there, in that moment, surrounded by its siblings, was the first time it experienced what it was like to feel alone.
