Disclaimer: Animorphs and the Ellimist Chronicles belongs to the talented K.A. Applegate, of course. I own nothing of her genius.

A/N: Hello, everyone! If you've read my other works, you'll know that I am obsessed with Harry Potter and I've only ever done fanfiction for that fandom. However, over the summer, I recently read the entire Animorphs series and preceded to fall in love with it. So, there you have it, I suppose.

Father

I'm unsure when I stopped being nothing more than a knot of weeds at the bottom of the ocean and started being...whatever it is that I am.

I suppose that's true with all living creatures, or at least it's been true with the ones I have encountered thus far. The ones that have touched my nerves, shown me all that they were and shared their essence with me. They too do not remember a before or the line of being nothing of importance and being something that feels, something that thinks, something...someone sentient.

I only know that one day I was feeling. I felt the water's pressure close in upon my frail body. Only my body wasn't frail; it was a vast collection of oceanic weeds, equipped with a superior nervous system. And I thought that and it made sense and I was satisfied. I had not realized then that thinking was new.

The first race I absorbed was one native to my own moon. They were scaly with large eyes that encompassed most of their diamond-like heads. They were equipped with gills and fins. They had no limbs, as I would learn other species would. But they were sentient. I believe they were the beginning of my sense of self.

I learned of what it felt like to swim, what it felt like to learn, what it felt like to love. But, all too soon, they were gone and I wanted more. Knowledge had been granted to me and I craved to have more, understand more, be more. I couldn't do it on my own. I was only what was given to me, but, as far as I knew, there was nothing more like this race on my moon.

And then I learned of the people from the stars. They came in ships that traversed the vaccum of nothing and everything that was space. Space was new. It reminded me of myself. Without my treasures, my people, I too was nothing. But they made me everything.

The people left their home worlds for various reasons. Some had fled because of war, because of poverty, because of pollution, because of suffering too terrible to speak of. These were refugees. I released many of their broken minds, to drift aimlessly in my ocean. I did not want their sadness and by withdrawing my tendrils from their nerves, it was forgotten as though it never was.

Others were explorers, scientists, and philosophers. They wanted to learn about more than the little worlds they had been given. They wanted to reach out and take things, study things, understand things. I wanted that too. So, I became them.

Others were thieves, murderers, warmakers. They hid in the dark reaches of space, shying from consequence of their greed and striking on the unsuspecting, claiming what they wanted. I learned great lessons from them. I learned much of hate.

Yes, in the many years of my conquest, I learned that hate existed, rooted deeply in many of my treasures. This hate was sometimes nonsensical, sometimes toward circumstance or nature, or themselves. But, more often than not, hate was directed towards other people. And then, I learned of feeling toward other people.

I learned that you could converse with people, and they would converse back, and you could hate them or you could love them, as I loathed some of my treasures and cherished others. You could miss them when you were apart. You would not forget them when you were apart. It was then that I learned of loneliness.

Alas, the terrible barb that is loneliness! I tried to banish it from my being, but I soon realized that it existed in nearly every treasure that dared to leave their home world and come to mine. So much of me I would have to lose! So, I attempted to live with the wretched feeling. I busied myself with my treasures. I attempted to make conversation with them but it was predictable and stagnant. I knew their words before they were uttered because they were my words now and as long as they were connected to my tendrils, they were mere extensions of me. Once, I decided to take a risk, and allow one of my treasures to disengage from my mass, and swim freely so I might meet him properly. But, though he was an aquatic being from this moon and should have been content in his natural environment, he did not move and drifted limply away with the current instead. It was then that I learned that all of my treasures, my victims, were dead.

I pondered that for a while. I was sad at first, but once I realized how utterly weakening such an emotion was when coupled with my original ailment of loneliness, I frantically searched for the source, and banished it. And with that problem gone, I now was merely determined. I was to have a companion. And I would be careful not to kill them. They were not to be one of my treasures. They were to be my Treasure.

But, alas, what to do with a companion? To speak would be wondrous, but what then? I was a good deal more knowledgeable than anything else this universe had to offer. Conversation would soon grow dull. I needed something exciting, something thrilling. I needed a challenge.

And then I learned of the Ketran. They were refugees if I've ever seen them, with no home to speak of, no place they were going, and no one to bring comfort. They were winged creatures forced to live out their lives in airless tubes in space. They were searching for a place that didn't exist. They knew it didn't exist, yet they still searched. They loathed the idea of bearing children in such a tormented existence, so they were dying out. I would have banished them from my senses, forgotten such suffering, such horror, such utter sadness could exist, if not for Doffnall, or the one they call Aguella.

Aguella played games. On her home world of Ket, she did at least. She would play a number of games, games where the players would make friendly war on one another, faceless armies sparring to total annihilation. Games that would stretch billions of years in a matter of moments, where the players would meddle with other civilizations, seeing which race could last longer, if they had been helped or harmed, made strong or vulnerable.

Yes, I wanted Aguella. I wanted to play these merciless games with her. I wanted to win, yes, but I wanted to know that I might not, that the opponent was unpredictable, a challenge because she was not me. Though she was weaker and ignorant and broken, she was not me and her moves would not be known until she made them.

I nearly spared her. But then, I learned of Toomin. Toomin, Aguella's mate. Toomin the leader. Toomin the Brilliant Loser. Toomin the Ellimist.

Ellimist was different from Aguella. He did not win often, though he could have. He played under a different agenda than his opponents. He did not play for victory. He played for peace. It was such a kindness that made me trust him. Made me believe that he would be a companion that would not be dangerous, one that I would not have to fear, for who would need to fear such a pacifist!

So, I killed Aguella. She was simply too cruel in her games, ruthless in her longing to win. I knew she could be dangerous. I welcomed Ellimist. I introduced him to myself and my treasures, showed him the powers I possessed over his mind while also the limits I had over his thoughts. I showed him he was safe. But I also showed him he was mine.

I did not worry of his power. I only looked forward to the many, many games we would play. To the companionship. To the end of loneliness at long last. Ellimist was brilliant yes, but he was a loser. Too kind to be a threat. For the first time in my sentient life, I was a fool.

/

For a long time, I contemplated what I would allow Ellimist to call me. I knew of many names from many peoples, but somehow I felt that it was wrong to take the names of the dead. At last I decided that I would introduce myself to Ellimist as Father, for that was what I wanted to be to him. It was the perfect way to establish respect in him. Perhaps he would learn to love me.

We played many games. And, oh, what games they were! Games of torrentious struggle, of monumentous stakes, of a building rivalry, which I took advantage of by donning the body of Menno, a longtime nemesis of my Ellimist.

Unfortunately, after just a few years by my standards, the epic rivalry began to fade. I'm unsure as to why that is as the memories of his that I've seen have been filled with nothing but contempt for Menno, but now it seemed those feelings were gone during our games. I wondered if it meant he had come to care for me and separated me from the mask I wore.

And I believe I had come to care for him, as the years went by. I tried to make him happy in this life I had given him. I gave him simulations of Aguella and of children he had never had, in the hopes that he would find some comfort in the treasures I never could, for they were not him as they were me.

Ellimist lost every game we ever played together. A few times he came close, but he would never be as cunning as me, as well-versed as me. He would grow frustrated, but his short-comings were charming. He lost not because he was inept. He lost because he was too kind to win ruthlessly. He still played for peace, even when everyone he'd ever known was dead. I had never known such kindness, none of my treasures had even come close to such pureness of soul. Yes, he had killed, but it is hard not to in such a cruel, twisted universe which we live in, and the guilt that had eaten him away inside was so absolutely vicious that it made me feel for the dear child. Yes, though I had longed for Ellimist to love me, I had begun to love him.

And then, the music. Oh, the music! It was a new game I had discovered, one where groups of people came together and made pleasant sounds with an instrument of sorts, sounds that chased away loneliness and lifted me up from the last of the shadows of isolation. Had I learned of music before Ellimist, I may not have taken on a companion for music was a companion. And I could hardly wait to share it with Ellimist.

He did not understand the game. His notes were not beautiful; they sounded rather like the final death throes of a small bird. Yet, I found it charming. I laughed and laughed. He demanded to play more and I agreed. We played many games of music and each time I won with little improvement from Ellimist, as all of our games had been. Until, one day, he thwarted me.

His tune was of an emotion I had little understanding of. I knew enough of his and the other Ketran memories to recognize it as sadness. Yet, I felt little for it. I learned then that I was not entirely wiser than Ellimist. I had shied from grief rather than learn from it, for it had hurt too much for me to ever want to know it. Ellimist could not forget his pain, but he could turn it into something beautiful. Something powerful. And so he had won at music. And, I worried, if he could beat me at things, he would be closer to being my equal. Being my superior. And where would that leave me in his life?

I should not have left him lonely for so long. Cast off, for so many years without so much of a vision of Aguella. But, I was scared. I didn't want to lose him. I wanted him with me forever.

I called on him eventually, and we played a new game. He lost and it was as it was meant to be with me being Father the Winner and he being Ellimist the Brilliant Loser. But, soon he had beaten me again! Impossible! How? I did something I perhaps should not have done. I looked through his deep memories.

I've seen Ellimist's surface memories, memories of his life and the people he knew in it. But, I had long refrained from looking too far into his deep memories, the emotions behind everything he did and experienced. Now, I did. And then I learned sadness as Ellimist knew it. I learned love and hate as Ellimist knew it. And I donned Menno's body, sat atop a barren island on my moon in a mind simulation, and cried.

/

Ellimist saw at last what I had seen coming since he had won music. Music had taught him hope and built his strength. It had made him powerful. He was ready to take me. He wanted what I was. And I, a slave to love, wanted to give it to him. I wanted him to be my equal.

Ellimist started with Aguella. Then, he took Menno and Lackofa and all the other Ketran. My tendrils seemed to release much tension as the last of the victims of the tragedy of Ket was erased from me. But, Ellimist didn't stop there.

He took more. He took the race that made music, warmakers, murderers, and thieves, the philosophers, scientists, and explorers. He took the race that first lived on my moon. And as he stripped me of my knowledge and self, he gained more of his own. He was more than my equal. He was taking too much, and I knew I should stop him because he was taking my knowledge, my games, my treasures. I was losing what made me think, what made me feel, what me someone and not something.

But, I found I did not care. It was less important, the more his attack went on. I wanted him to be something. I wanted him to use what I had had and couple it with the wings I never truly wielded and change the universe with his purely kind soul in a way I never could.

Toomin the leader. Toomin the Brilliant Loser. Toomin the Ellimist. Toomin my Son. More of a Son to me than I ever was a Father.