This is the story of Icarus.
Icarus was a mischievous man, prone to fits of fleeting fancy, running wherever his curiosity led him. He was born to the priestess and priest of the Tri-ni-sette temple, and grew at the feet of a god that kept reality in balance.
Despite Icarus' penchant for reaching out to grab things humans were not meant to touch, the god favoured him.
People whispered that the god saw something in him.
Others murmured about how the god always got distracted by pretty things.
Over time, favour turned to interest turned to love. The god blessed Icarus with powers far beyond what a human should have, just to keep him close, make sure that insatiable curiosity wasn't going to harm the human.
Except Icarus was no longer a human. He grew strong, stronger than even the Tri-ni-sette God predicted. He travelled the earth with one stride, summoned land from the seas and scattered stars with a wave of his hand.
When the other gods fought too close to the humans, Icarus would be the one to chase them away.
The gods grew jealous. The Tri-ni-sette God even more so, for that was borrowed power inside this pseudo godling, and each day his strength only grew.
Icarus was in a state of careful equilibrium. If he was too human then he would lose the power of the gods, but if he lost his humanity then he would lose himself entirely.
The Tri-ni-sette God knew this, and so bestowed the man a pair of wings, hand crafted from the brightest star the god had ever made.
Icarus wanted more. He was half a god now but he wanted -needed- to know what was past this. There was more, just out of his reach. He knew this with a painful kind of certainty and he craved that knowledge with a bone deep obsession.
He took on the wings.
And flew.
It was a spark, a brief flicker of a candle flame, but it pushed Icarus over the edge. There was more sunshine than there was blood in his veins.
He burned from the inside out.
He burned alive.
Icarus fell.
The gathered gods watched and laughed as he screamed. But as his wings melted, he reached out, still with that unquenchable need for more.
In one last, final surge of his immense power...Icarus devoured the gods.
And he didn't need wings anymore.
.
.
.
He sleeps for a long, long time. He only awakens when droplets of water shower his body, washing away the ash and cooling his skin.
He opens his eyes and stares up at the circle of people standing over him.
One steps forward, bright blue eyes over a roguish grin. The other says his name is Colonnello. Says they're all new here. That they're trying to find others like them.
Others who are gods.
Colonnello asks for a name.
"…Reborn."