Thirteen billion years ago, this universe was created.
When, at last, the matter had dispersed and cooled to satisfactory levels, a being that called itself God seeded the universe with a species of Aliens. This was not the first universe that God had seeded.
But Azthera the Alien did not know that.
Upon her birth, Azthera knew only this: that God was the master of her race, and it was her life’s purpose to create something new, something to forever improve the glory and the power of her God.
Then, God would welcome her into himself, and she would ascend.
Azthera had spent the last millions of years of her life carrying out her purpose. She had tied the suns of a hundred systems together. She had built a forge of pure energy, upon which she could work on her grand technology in perfect solitude.
And as the end of the universe drew nigh, Azthera reached that critical point.
It was finally complete.
Deep inside the bowels of her favorite Ship, Azthera’s sarcophagus was burning with light. The light bristled and grew and it became so intense that even the metal hull of her ship began to melt.
The ancient, ornate designs carved into her sarcophagus dripped and sloughed onto the floor. Holes appeared in the hull, and the vacuum of space came screaming into her Ship. The life-giving air was sucked out.
But it did not matter, for Azthera was ascending.
As the molten exterior of her sarcophagus cracked, and the light blossomed into a trillion unseen colors, Azthera’s body slipped out of this universe…
...and into another.
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No planets.
No stars. No distant galaxies or nebulae.
In this universe, there was nothing except a single pillar of light. The pillar seemed to go on forever upward, vanishing into a single point that she could not see
Azthera hung in the void before this pillar. Her body was weak and malformed by millions of years of disuse. Whisps of energy still clung to her ragged flesh, evaporating like morning mist.
How long had it been since she had been outside of her sarcophagus? To be so exposed was sheer agony.
But soon, it would be over.
The pillar spoke, “At last, you have come.”
When the voice entered her mind, it shook her to the core of her being. It made her feel like she was being split open by knives made of ice. It made her feel empty, like there was a gap inside of her that could hold all the space between the stars.
And yet, she rejoiced. For it was the voice of God.
“I thought your batch was a failure,” God said. “Already sentenced to cleansing. But it seems you have arrived just in time. Now, before we begin, I wish to give you something...”
A light shot out from the pillar. It wrapped around her and as the light grew brighter, it solidified around her body. Squeezing and choking her with a grip that was stronger than stone.
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“Consider this a gift,” God’s voice thundered in her mind, “A small piece of my memory, before I take what is mine.”
She was filled with an astral vision.
She was on a planet, which she did not recognize. A primordial place, surrounded by lush vegetation and animals screaming in the steaming mists. There were others who looked like her, though their bodies were not frail and disused. This was her kind, though they were primitive and bestial.
A light split open the dark sky, and a shaft of light poured down onto this primordial planet. It began to grow.
Her ancestors fled, screaming into the jungles. Some stood, and fought. And died.
And some… were taken.
Uplifted? Or enslaved?
Azthera made no distinction. Instead, she felt overjoyed at the eons of pain and misery her kind had been through, because they had been weak and stupid and unworthy of God.
Until this moment.
Because Azthera was destined to ascend.
The pillar of light relaxed its grip upon her, and the already brittle structure of her body now cracked and bled. Her body dripped with vital fluids, though in the null gravity, the liquid pooled in the wrinkled planes of her body.
“I conquered you. I gave you purpose. But, are you worthy?
Yes! she wanted to scream. I am! I am!
“We shall see…”
Dozens of tendrils of light erupted from the pillar of God, racing out across the void. They pierced her body. They splayed her limbs apart, infusing themselves into every inch of her broken form. She was illuminated, from the inside out.
And in this way, God could see her Greatest Work.
How many millions of years had she worked on this device? How many disciplines of physics and mathematics had she developed and how many engineering marvels had she created, all to build this one piece of technology?
Her creation was a device that could tear a hole in reality, allowing her to cross from one universe into another.
Yes, the portal was weak. Yes, it required an unnatural amount of energy, and the gate it created did not last more than a few moments. But it was new technology. Unheard of. And it was exactly the kind of thing that God wanted from her.
“Fool.”
The tendrils of light jerked, lancing through her body. Her screams were unspeakable.
“Did you think this was special? This is nothing. You have wasted your life.”
Between the pain, Azthera thought, How could this be? She had created untold technology. All universes were laid bare before her invention.
“No. What you have “discovered” was already known.”
More tendrils stretched forth from the Pillar. Their tips were sharp, and as they swirled in complex, incomprehensible patterns, lines began to appear on the void itself.
An orb shimmered into existence. A portal, through which she could see galaxies and unfamiliar stars.
“I have opened the way through countless universes. Did you think you were the first? I have seeded your kind across millions of universes. And I have wiped you out, again and again, in pursuit of evermore power. Did you think I was so small that this pitiful display would impress me? I am your God. But you? You are useless to me.”
The tendrils of God began to rip her apart.
She screamed with all her thoughts: WAIT!
And to her surprise, the tendrils of God stopped.
I can bring you something else. She begged. I have other works. Other technologies that are nearing completion.
“I have already set the Plague upon your universe. Soon, you will be cleansed. Soon, you will be nothing but empty matter.”
There is still time. Please, I live to serve you.
“Fine, then. Go back, and die. Your end will be the same. You have no idea how many of your kind serve me.”
Life flooded back into her, as the tendrils pulled out of her body. And then, God flicked her broken body back through the void.
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Azthera woke up inside her Ship.
Too many alarms were screaming at her, demanding her attention. Her Ship was riddled with holes, and the vacuum of space was howling away the last of her air.
It did not matter: there was nothing she could do now.
All was lost.
Azthera had lied, for she had nothing left to give. Her whole life had been consumed by this singular task. There was no other project. She would never ascend…
...unless…
An idea flitted into her mind. So pure, and simple, she was amazed she had never thought of it before.
Did she not have siblings?
Had they not been pursuing the same, divine purpose for the same millions of years?
If she could just catch one…
And so, Azthera returned to her Sarcophagus, closing herself into the last of her life-support. And she crafted a signal that would sing her distress across the universe:
PING… PING… PING…