Cradled by selfhood, a newborn god emerged. This god, perceived as a phantom, wept with tears that fell upon the waters. Thus was born its phantom heart. The weeping spirit, an isolated god capable of creating anything with its will, received a message commanding one thing: Kill the Light.
An unease stirred within its heart, a void devoid of even an echo reaching any other god or living creature. If not for this, what was the purpose of this god? What else was expected of it? So, it wandered for days on end until it encountered a single, decrepit woman—the first contact in over a thousand years.
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