In all that time, I had not forgotten the feeling, from the first few moments of existence, when I had burned with such incredible energy. As the years went by, it stayed with me every day. When I held my children and heard them speak their first words. When I watched them play, developing personalities and wills of their own. When I sat with my wife, looking out over creation. Despite all the joys and love I had had in my life, they could not drown out the forbidden desire to burn. To destroy all of it with a single blast of creation and annihilation. It was my constant companion, the craving clawing at my insides at night.
As my relationship with my wife and family became more strained, the desire to burn only got stronger. It got to be that it was all I thought about. I had to burn again. I had to. I began to look for a way.
I could never burn in my own universe, of course. Even if I could find a way to achieve my former power, to burn that brightly would mean destroying everything. I could not do it. I loved my creations too much. My children…
But, perhaps, if I went to an empty universe… my creative powers might return. It could be that I needed to be in a space with no existence in order to create existence. It seemed logical enough. I tried to promise myself that if I could find such a place, I would not love anything I created. I would just build things and tear them down. I had had enough of responsibility.
Yet, there was one thing that worried me: if I actually found a universe that I could burn in, would I be able to come back? I wasn't sure of the mechanics of inter-universe travel. And even if I could come back, would I want to? Returning would almost certainly mean a lessoning of my power. A cooling such as I had experienced before. I wasn't sure if I'd be willing to do it. Would I end up staying there forever? Abandoning my family?
But I pushed such thoughts out of my mind. There were, of course, other problems to consider. How to get into another universe, for one. I began to think about creating a blade that could cut through spacetime. I could see the basic mechanics, the tools that would be necessary. It wouldn't be too difficult. Really, anyone with a little insight into destruction could do it…
Such a blade would be extremely dangerous, however. With my foresight I could see that it would eventually cause problems. Conflicts between my children would be sure to arise. I couldn't say for sure, but I knew there was a large risk of it being used against someone in my family. I should have, knowing that, stopped right then and there. But at that point, I was too far gone. Too obsessed.
So, instead of avoiding making a blade, I only tried to avoid the blame it would cause. To do this, I'd get someone else to make it. Azrael was the obvious choice. She, the angel of death, had the necessary knowledge of undoing. Once she was old enough, I put my plan into action. A comment here, a nudge there, was all that was needed to begin the butterfly effect of events that would end with her making the most powerful blade in the universe.
On the night she finished it, I immediately stole it from her. Changing into my form, I entered the garden. I figured it was the best place to tear the wall of spacetime. My wife never went in there, for one. She hated it because it housed my humans, the ones she thought had taken me from her.
Inside the garden was completely dark. I moved cautiously, though there really wasn't any need. No one was there except for the humans, and they were incapable of hearing my movements. But still, I somehow felt the need to be careful. A mounting sense of dread came over me. Whatever lay on the other side of existence did not follow the laws of my universe. I had no sight with which to discern it. There was no way of knowing what I would find, or if I would ever return.
When I got to the back wall, I pulled out the blade. The wall was thick, made of brick and covered in dense ivy. But not as thick as the wall of the universe. It felt fitting, somehow, to cut through two walls at once. I stood on top of a large boulder, so that I was near the high edge of brick. Slowly, I lifted the blade above my head. I could feel my human-like heart beating hard. Part of me just wanted to go back to the palace. But I knew I could not. If I didn't do it today, I'd only be back tomorrow. I was too desperate for that energy. I could feel it tantalizingly close, tingling on my lips.
Finally, I brought down the blade. It made a sharp slicing noise as it fell. And then, there it was. A burning, fiery incision that stretched from the garden wall all the way through to the sky above. I almost couldn't believe it. I simply stood, staring at the fissure for several minutes. And then, peering inside, I tried to make out what was there. It was useless. The hole was pitch black. I could see nothing.
After a moment, I took a deep breath. I dropped the blade and slowly stepped inside.
