Darkness.
It was an absolute void. Not merely the absence of light, but a hollow expanse that devoured time, space, and existence itself. Within this womb of nothingness, a consciousness lay dormant, wrapped in an eternal cocoon woven from the threads of forgotten history.
One year. A hundred years. Ten millennia.
To this entity, time was but a shallow stream that could not even wet its feet. But then, a tremor occurred—subtle and faint, like a speck of dust falling upon the surface of a frozen lake.
A pair of eyelids, sealed for ten thousand years, slowly stirred. Cosmic dust clinging to the lashes fell away, manifesting as tiny stars that flickered and died in the void.
Thump.
A heart that had ceased to beat since the fall of the last civilization pulsed once more. The shockwave rippled outward, cracking the very fabric of reality. The absolute darkness flinched, torn asunder by a faint yet primordial golden glow.
He opened his eyes. His pupils were swirling galaxies, cold and bottomless.
"...Too long."
The voice did not originate from a throat; it was a manifestation of will that vibrated the foundations of existence. He attempted to move. His body, fused with the ancient stone throne, felt stiff. The throne drifted atop a boundless sea of grey fog—a space unrecorded on any map of reality: The Mist Palace.
The obsidian pillars surrounding him began to glow dimly, welcoming the return of their master.
Sovereign. The Great Dreamer. The Arbiter of Forbidden Authority.
The titles drifted through his mind, both alien and familiar. He remembered a vow left unfinished. With his chin resting on his right hand, he gazed at the mortal world beneath the fog. There, civilizations grew and withered like summer grass.
He flicked his left index finger. SNAP.
Tiny shards of authority broke free from his fingertips, plunging through the mist toward the mortal realm below. They were no longer mere energy, but concepts seeking vessels: whispering swords, soul-devouring tomes, or artifacts waiting for the right hand to claim them.
"If this stage is to be boring," he murmured, his gaze piercing through space and time, "then I shall create the actors myself."