‘What have you done!?’ Something had happened, something terrible, Orikka could feel it from within the depths of their being, a pulsing vibrating wrongness. An entire galaxy had been snuffed out, simply banished from existence, their soul not even dispersed, consumed in some way, and Nevah was the only other one with such ability. Nevah looked at them, their silence heavy, laden with the weight of their ruthless actions, until finally they responded, clear articulated words cutting their parent with each syllable. ‘I have made myself in your likeness,’ they responded slowly, their stars softly emitting, but increasing in intensity with each word. ‘I have ascended to godhood, killed my lesser kin and taken my place as a true galactic god. Isn't that what you wanted?’ They seemed almost confused, almost beseeching.

Orikka drew back as if struck. What they had wanted? How could Nevah think that killing something so precious could be what they wanted? Had they not communicated that their creation of Nevah was in pursuit of companionship, of family? How could their pure wish be so easily perverted, misconstrued as approval for such large scale destruction? Where did such an idea even come from? Had Orikka inadvertently planted it with the godseed, had they been the source of it somehow? Their mind reeled, rapid fire questions and doubts seeping into their thoughts, plaguing them.

This being that had once been so familiar was now foreign, a disfiguration of the perfect, beautiful child Orikka had willed into consciousness. They felt sick. They had given birth to an abomination, a being of destruction. A being that had willingly corrupted themselves, violated the purity of their soul for greater power. Nevah was responsible for the death of an entire galaxy, a whole swath of stars had been executed simply because Nevah decided it should be so.

Nevah continued, ‘we could never be companions without equality. To have true friendship, one must start with parity,’ sincerity in their voice, compelling, as if their decision was a reasonable, rational one to have made. As if they hadn’t just murdered a whole galaxy as if it was nothing to them. And it must have been. Had Orikka failed so spectacularly as a parent to not have emphasized the significance of life, of how truly precious it was. And now it was gone, absorbed by the being before them. Orikka could see it, see the pulsing energy of Nevah’s soul newly empowered by the consumption. ‘Can you even see what you have done? Their soul is gone! Simply not there any more, you’ve eaten it and it is trapped within you?!’

Nevah paused, this appeared to be new information to them. Were they no longer able to access the world of souls, were they locked out of passing through the moribund? But this revelation was not enough to change their opinion of their actions, ‘it is still energy, and it has a new purpose now, it is part of something greater,’ they insisted. Orikka couldn’t say anything in response, too shocked to refute.

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‘Did I make you feel unworthy,’ Orikka finally managed to say, ‘is this my fault?’ they whispered to themselves, horror at the new possibility roiling inside. Nevah started, ‘ha! You didn’t even know, did you? You selfish old thing. You always had to be right, to have everything just so. Everything polished perfect. I’m not so perfect now, huh? But at least I’m me, I’m more myself than I’ve ever been before.’ Nevah’s voice was thick with suppressed rage, their galaxy pulsing with the intensity of their words. They deflated a little, ‘isn’t this better? I am like you, now.’ Orikka wordlessly shuddered, the vulnerability even more abhorrent, somehow, their need for affirmation of this horrible choice something Orikka was not able to give, no matter how much Nevah seemed to need it. ‘I, I’m sorry,’ they said, helplessly.

Nevah left. It was the only choice. This was too much between them, too big a divide to have happened, an insurmountable schism that Orikka could never get past. Orikka was a failure. They had failed in every aspect of parenthood, there was no other interpretation for this catastrophe of a child. They were never meant to have children, they thought wildly, bitterly, better that this child had been a stillbirth and they had ended their efforts there. They were done. No more children, no more meaning, they would simply exist with this guilt, their penance for the disaster they had inevitably wrought in the world. Orikka was done.

Instead, they watched the living. The life on the ringed planet had changed since they last looked, tiny microbes had evolved to live inside each other, stacking like dolls one inside the other, making them their home, the building blocks for more complex organisms. A cornucopia of body plans and morphologies, the entire planet spilling over with life and vitality. Watching the tiny intricacies of their lives, the triumphs and failures, was like a balm to them, soothing the hurt of Nevah’s betrayal, reminding them there was something more than just the pain. And that all was not lost. Here life perseveres, independent and self perpetuating, persistent above all else. So many different survival strategies, strange complex things with sophisticated interior workings that Orikka could never hoped to create.

The ingenuity never failed to intrigue them. Some of them failed and passed out of existence entirely, some of them flourished, the sheer variety was captivating. They were so beautifully imperfect. The thought shocked them out of their revelry, painfully reminding them of Nevah’s departing words. Were they too preoccupied with perfection? Their creation of Nevah had been inspired by their need to complete themselves, perhaps achieve a form of perfection.

Or was that misconstruction something purely Nevah. They sighed. They hadn’t ever had to examine themselves with such scrutiny before their child’s birth, but Nevah was forcing them to confront so much about themselves that they had never considered. They wished they had been more thoughtful, before this, maybe if they had then they could have fixed whatever it was in themselves that had caused Nevah such grief. Perhaps they too, were a failure.