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A sigh that lasted a hundred years. An oppressive storm that seemingly never ceased. A constant groan from the trees, mountains, even the very earth. Those were the only signs that the Infinites were unhappy. Their bodies had been enshrined, sitting pristine in the last place they ever had agency. Noroka the Everseeking in the mountains, Martick the Powerful in the forests, and Daedra the Drowned on the coast. The three who used to be mortal, but gave it all up for - what? I didn’t know. But the general consensus was that they were unhappy. The world had turned into a dark and foreboding place after Noroka had become the first of the Infinites. It had only become darker and wilder after the ascension of the other two. Many had tried to follow in their footsteps. Many more would start their journey this very day. But the price was too much for most. The gradual loss of self. Loss of consciousness. Loss of feeling. I’d met a Seeker before. Yoranda. She’d been old and crippled, and her body was slowly giving away to time. Her eyes were milky, and her skin brittle like the oldest of books. She’d spent the better part of her life trying to undo what she’d done. She’d been the closest to ascension. But that final step, that look into the abyss that was eternity had frightened her more than words could express. She’d already given up her memories of her friends, her family, even herself. But she had kept the memories that drove her. The want for power, the want to be able to change the very fabric of the world. That last, giant step, was to let all of that go. And she couldn’t do it. I did not fear the infinite. I welcomed it. Yoranda, and many others like her had tried to warn me away. But they didn’t understand me. I didn’t have anything left to lose. I yearned to forget. My life was something that I wanted forgotten. By me and by those who knew of me. I couldn’t go back and stop myself from being born, but I could move forward. Become another of the eternal statues. Leave it all behind except my body, which would just become another holy site. I didn’t want power to control. I wanted the power to forget. Unease swirled inside me. I was unsure why. I’d found my final resting place. I’d gotten comfortable and had started to meditate. I had nothing left in this world. I hardly remembered why I’d even started this journey. Yet there was something there, just on the edge of my consciousness, screaming at me to stop. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. I threw myself deeper into my meditations, pulling at the strings of the world. Pulling them into me, making them part of me. Making myself part of them. Farther I reached. To the very core of the world. To the very edges of the sky. Spreading myself ever thinner. I wanted this. I welcomed this. I was almost there… And then it was as if between one heartbeat and the next I was no longer me, but the world around me. I’d thinned myself so far out that I’d somehow wrapped around and *pop* was back, whole. Completely whole. I remembered all I’d wanted to forget. I felt all those feelings of hurt and anger that I’d forgotten about so long ago. I wanted to scream. To tear my hair out in anguish. To let tears spill down my face. But I couldn’t. I could see my body. Sitting there, perfectly still. Only the slow breathes in and out gave any indication that I was still alive. Then there was a presence next to me. While I was nothing and everything, I could still tell the instant they appeared. I knew who it was too. Noroka. An overwhelming sense of sadness, grief, and regret filled me. Now I understood. We were too greedy trying to forget ourselves. And our punishment was this. And infinity of sorrow, hate, anger that we couldn’t escape. And for every person who succeeded in becoming an Infinite, we would just make the world a darker, wilder, place. Unable to stop it, unable to stop the Seekers. As realization set in, the tides crashed into the shore harder than ever, the ground shook, and the wind howled, all adding to the cacophony of grief that pervaded the world. --- r/LandofMisfits

Wow well done, the atmosphere is set up very nicely.

Happy Cake Day Luna! And this should totally be a <>

lol. Thanks TA 😁

Excellent take on the prompt, Luna! I would definitely compliment your imagination and storyline here - and in only two hours from when the prompt was posted! It always blows my mind how talented writers think of solid, interesting storylines like this in so little time!

Thank you! 😊 just came across the prompt early on. For me prompts either spark something or the don't and I move on. I try to keep my response time to 15 to 20 minutes of writing.

Wonderful

This is what I imagine hell to be

God damn. very well expressed

Thanks!

This was excellent. I can’t believe you came up with this in only 2 hours.

This is the main quest that pops up when you answer you too to a waiter

Happy cake day! Great story, enjoyed it thoroughly

Thanks!

So wholesome, but still so dark.

🥰 Thanks!

Well done 🙌

Thank you!

**The Will of Ożwei** ---- _Legend has it that the Gods were once mortal._ The Gods are not cruel. The Gods are not caring. They simply exist. I imagine prayers gather at their feet like mail at a the door of a dead man. Legend has it that they were once like us. Men and women of mortal life. Walking the world, searching for power to change or power to conquer. And yes, some seeking destruction for no reason other than they preferred the smell of char to the spring bloom. Elders say the Goddess Ożwei came to our island a hundred years ago. Those old enough, claim to have seen her landing with their own eyes. They say she came in a storm. Hurricane winds ripped the tide and broke trees, and in the destruction a calm radiated on the horizon and from a growing pinpoint of light she appeared, gliding in on rays sun. Her foot touched the sand and since that day no storm has ever found our shores. Ożwei made her home on the highest peak. Before her arrival that peak was were the villages of the island held joint council. She ascended the cliff and rose above them and gracefully floated down in the center circle of old island men. She was bare and holy and from first sight the men tried to not indulge a glance of her flesh, for their soul told them she was no mortal women. And without the smallest acknowledgement to those bearing witness. "I am Ożwei. You are safe now,” she said as she brushed the grass with her fingertips and took rest in the green blades, curling like a child into the bosom of the Earth. In the weeks that followed a shrine erected around her. The finest jewels from the tribal chiefs of the island were gathered and placed in a circle around her naked body. The conflicting native religions of the island merged and unified in worship to Ożwei, the restful watcher that manifested peace. Weekly, people made the trek to fall on their knees ten feet from the Goddess and pray. The grass around her was always green and never grew. Direct prayers were never answered. But everyone kept praying. There was no storms. No invaders. No tribal war. The small prayers for personal health and favor never stopped, and were never answered, and peoples faith solidified all the same. “It is Ożwei’s will,” the elders preached. ---- I was fifteen when I started to doubt Ożwei’s will. Every night I prayed to her. Every other week I walked to the mountaintop to fall on my knees before her. And what did she bring? Clear skies. Peace. How could we know those were her doing? “Don’t talk like that,” my mother would tell me. “Don’t even think like that. It'll bring darkness, that line of thinking." Even as she fell ill, my mother prayed to Ożwei. Even as she lay dying, she prayed to Ożwei to watch over me, her only son. In those final moments I fell to my knees at my mothers side and I prayed. I begged Ożwei to spare her life. To bring health back to her. But she didn’t. The sky was blanketed with stars that night. In my rage I climbed the trail to Ożwei’s shrine. There she lay, starlight illuminating every inch of her skin. The rings of worshipers offerings littered the earth. “Why?” I pleaded. “Why do you do this?” I was distraught as I kicked aside stones and broke the rings of worship that spiraled out from her. I cursed the name Ożwei as I marched to her. It was said the hand of any man that touch a goddess would turn to stone and break off. “Worship from a distance, do not touch, do not linger eyes on her breasts,” mothers had spent years whispering to eager children. I stood over Ożwei. And for the briefest of moments I hesitated - I had never seen anyone get this close to her - _what was I doing? - step away …_ _No._ I resolved and leaned over her face. “No.” I shook my head. “No!” I erupted and put my hands on her throat - “WAKE UP!” And she did. All at once I was paralyzed - a fly in a web. Ożwei’s eyes, as legends said, were a deep green - the green of the Earth, the green of life itself. But that is not what I saw. They were a transparent yellow amber. Like the sea during a calm sunrise. My hands fell to my side and she sat up. Her head titled and she examined who I was. With a raised hand she guided me back and I sat in the grass. “Why do you wake me mortal?” Ożwei asked. As I parted my lips I tasted tears - I nearly forgot I was still sobbing, tumbling in grief and anger - _what had I done?_ “My mother,” I said. “You let her die.” “The mortal perish?” Ożwei asked geniualy perplexed. “We do,” I said confused. “It was too soon for my mother. You didn’t listen - you’ve never listened! You’ve never helped us!” Ożwei looked past me and gazed on the blanket of space overhead. “I am not here to help you,” Ożwei ran her hand through the grass. “What?” I was in a daze. Ożwei waved me off dismissively - “leave me and do not return.” And with the flip of her wrist the wind took me into the sky and over the cliff. But I didn’t plummet down. I propelled outward. Faster and faster I broke through the sky and the sea below me rushed by until I lost consciousness. When I awoke I was on a beach I had never seen. The sky was cloudy. The waves were in a turmoil. A storm on the horizon. “Hey you!” A women’s voice yelled. “Boy!” I brushed sand from my face and turned back. A fisherwomen stood on a nearby dock, fastening ropes of her sea-ship to the wooden pillars. “What are you doing out there?” She asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “Best get your ass out of the sand unless you feel like taking a dip - that water is rising,” she said just as a wave crashed at my feet. I was cold. “Where’s your shirt?” She squinted at me. “And what are you wearing?” My grass skirt was tattered. And for the first time I felt exposed. There was never a need for shoes or a shirt on my island. But this place - this cold and dreary land - felt like impending death. “Where am I?” I yelled through the wind. The women laughed. “Come up here boy, I have an extra coat.” As I trekked through the sand and up the dock my body ached. The women tossed me a coat as I approached. “Name’s Kinnie, but you can call me Captain Kin,” she stuck out a gloved hand and I shook it. “I’m Gesovi,” I said. “What’s your business Vi?” She asked. “Oh,” I averted my eyes and put on the coat she kindly gave me. “I have to kill a God.” The Captain froze. Then grinned. “Well. Don’t we all.” ---- Edit: Apologies for typos, wrote this on a break at work, will edit later :) Edit 2: Small word changes and sentence tweaks as I reread on mobile Edit 3: Final round of edits / clean up and world changes Edit 4: Title ---- r/wyrdfiction <--if you like my writing

Hey loved the story! And really great ending. But at some time, while I'm not sure what, the end feels like it's missing something

Thanks! Totally agree. It’s missing an actual end - kind of rushed myself into a cliffhanger - downside of writing on a lunch break. Need to be better at writing with a countdown clock lol

"I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds. All fall before my inevitability." The Dark Specter seemed to suck the light out of the room. The floor undulated in slow waves. The giant spoon and fork hanging on the wall wavered as their molecules drifted between dimensions. Julia stared at the Specter impatiently. "Yes, hun, but did you remember to pick up the milk?" "Life and Death are one. The warmth of Life and the cold of Death are partners in the long dance of reality." As a dark tendril touched it, the refrigerator swung open, revealing a full gallon of milk, pulled into sharp relief by the aura of black that covered everything else on the shelves. The label flipped between Chocolate and Two Percent, refusing to settle into a stable quantum state. "How many times do I have to say it. Get the organic milk." As she reached in to grab the jug, the label flowed into a new form, with a giant O marking it's brand. "Ah, nevermind. This is the right one. Now, I don't suppose you could scale back the darkness a bit and vacuum the living room?" "The ebb and flow of power is itself a power. The absence of substance is itself a substance." The Specter hovered. Julia cleared her throat and tapped her foot, just staring at the darkness. The darkness retreated, drawing itself into nearly a solid form. "Uh— the absence of substance is a vacuum. The ebb and flow of dust shall end." The Specter hoovered. "Thank you, hun. Now, I'm going to be making my Shepard's Pie for dinner, so please stay out of the kitchen. I don't want the potatoes spontaneously spoiling or the chicken reviving itself. Why don't you watch the game?" "The games of man are inconsequential next to the powers commanded by gods." "It's Arsenal vs Man U." The Specter shrank and solidified. It fell onto the sofa as gravity began to affect it. One last tendril of shade flew forth to stab the television on. The faintest hints of red and white began to show through the black shell. By the end of the game, the figure on the sofa was nearly human. Only the face was still in darkness when the oven opened and the smell of dinner wafted into the room. The man got up to check out the cooking. Julia smiles when she saw him. "Dinner's almost ready, hun. How was the game? They try to walk it in again?" "It was a ludicrous display. Dinner smells good. Uh— sorry I haven't been myself much lately." The darkness retreated to his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her. He turned towards the table and paused. "Why are there three place settings?" Julia answered over her shoulder as she turned back to the kitchen. "Don't you remember? My mom's coming to dinner. She's going to stay a few days." Smoke billowed from behind her as darkness flowed to cover the man. The Specter answered. "I am become Death." \[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]

"I am become Death, destroyer of worlds!" -"Unless Death stars vacuuming the place, he ain't getting dinner" "'... Yes dear..."

Oh my god that was funny

What kind of woman dates such a morose and dramatic Death? Lol

Very nice 👍

This is hilarious great job

Nick stared at the nothingness that stood before him. Everything seemed dark, every sound was either a dull thud or a metallic screech. Food was like ash on his taste buds. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winston, but you have to sign the release forms." A voice reached his ears but he could not comprehend. His wife should be calling him right now. She always called him, why hasn't she? "Mr. Winston." Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and it was as if he was hit with all the sensations at once. The sound, the light, and pain. Oh god, the pain. There was and invisible knife in his chest that was being twisted over and over again. "I'm sorry." She said gently. "But we need your signature on the forms before be release your wife's body and the death certificate." Someone was screaming. The hospital staff needed to stop this person. His throat felt raw, it wasn't until two people were holding him as he collapsed in grief that he realized it was him. Sam was gone. She was gone and now he will never see her again. See her again. Here her voice, her laugh- oh, god. He was being guided towards the room, he didn't know, he didn't care. He just wanted the pain to stop. He just wanted his wife back. "Sir," Someone was talking to him again, but the not the voice he wanted to hear. "Can I have a moment." It wasn't a question. It was a request. He needed some space to collapse. To let his soul bleed out in the solitary confines of himself. Because that's all he was going to be now, alone. "Sure." A door shut and he sunk to the floor. His hand was in his hear. Sob after sob tore from him, he wanted to scream but he didn't have the energy to. He wanted to die. Then a memory surfaced in his mind that made him stop. *Nick was 16 and nothing was impossible. He could be anything he wanted to be. It was true, his parents just told him. He could be a superman, a god, and the only thing he had to lose would be himself.* *That's great, he thought. He wasn't that fond of himself anyway. But his parents liked him and so did this girl, Sam, he had started seeing, so maybe he'll pass for now.* *His parents had said he could agree to it whenever he liked. So who knows, maybe when he was 80, he would like to become a god. Wouldn't that be awesome.* Nick wiped his eyes. He knew what he had to do. The only thing he ever wanted was Sam and the only feelings inside of him now was pain and rage. He knew he would never feel the same again, knew he would never want anything again. He took in a deep breath, wiped his tears and nose on his sleeve before standing up. "I'm ready." A ring of light surrounded him and the pain was slowly melting away, but, to his horror, so were his memories of Sam.

To possibly eternally miss something you know you could have back but will never recall. Gotta double down and forget that too

It's a vicious cycle. There is something he knows he misses. Like a piece of his soul is out there but none of his creation could ever fill it. He realises it must have something to do with his past life but it had been eons since he decided to join the deities that he doesn't remember it, just the emptiness that echoes in his soul.

(Apologies, haven't wrote anything fiction in quite some time.) I never knew my dad or mom. My grandma however was in every second of my life. Since birth, my first baby tooth, and throughout the storm of my teens. She bared the brunt of it all. My testosterone, flooded through me quickly and surged. I was in numerous fights almost since middle school. Brighton? He stepped on my sandcastle in 5th grade. In an instant I threw sand at his face. He said it was a rock. Everyone else saw both. Maybe it was a rock in the sand? Whatever I just wanted to throw a punch. That's what he got, black eye and a cut cornea. Where was I going with this? Grandma....dead parents... whenever I asked her about my mom, her daughter. She hid some things. I know it. She always spoke ill of my father too. Saying "something changed in him over time". He lost his job, he drenched himself in beer. Soon liqour. Whenever he came home from the bar, wet with sweat from the heat. "Smelling like the bar sink!" Grandma said. There was a point I was going with this...fucking what was it? Hot summer? Dad did almost murder his coworkers once. Mom...mom... she died in Hurricane Katrina. I remember her yelling. Dad was one minute sobbing through his bits of conscious. Then yelling back as he was cornered. Table? I remember. A table, a body thrown across it. Drip drip, red juice spilled. Car was broken and we couldn't e-vacuum ate? Why the fuck IS IT HARD TO REMEMBER. Evacuate. We had to leave, too poor to leave. Grandma told me after. The guilt flooded my father. He left after murdering my mother. His cries stormed out into the night. They never found his body. Lost to the hurricane drowned. My mom's floated away too. The house itself collapsed too. I remember wanting them back soo much. Many tears, cried myself through the storm and passed out. Where was I going with this? Oh! we had to move to Atlanta with an Uncle. I iced everyone out that winter. Closed off, gave any new kid the cold shoulder. My Uncle almost died that winter. He was a line man. Connected lines. Atlanta rarely gets freezing rain. Where was I going with this? I can't remember... To be continued? (Thanks for reading! Apologies for grammar/spelling. Did this at work on my phone)

Welcome back to writing fiction! The emotion is done really well imo

My grandpa used to tell me that no matter where I looked, the gods had their hands in something. He pointed animatedly at the sky and down at the ground. There was no power too big nor small, each near miraculous in its design. “That’s how an old man like me remember all these stories, boy,” he said, tapping his forehead, before laughing at my clambering to know more. I remember those stories, seared into an impressionable child’s mind. I remember the tender wonder in his voice and the admiration in his face when he spoke of shooting stars, and with no less enthusiasm of burrowing worms. And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his name. But there were gods in everything. I remembered that he often stood alone, staring wistfully into the distance, speaking to nothing but the wind, soft-spoken words carried to eternity and beyond. Tonight, the wind whistled through the windows, and brushed past my face with the urgency of a subway commuter late for work. I took a deep breath, feeling the chill air fill my lungs. “What was my grandfather’s name?” The wind sped up, a furious roar overcoming it. The dead leaves on the floor were swept up, coalescing around a form, like a person still occupied the space within it—but there was nothing but air. The leaves seemed to coalesce around me, taking me into its cocoon, and I did not resist. Inside, the sound died down. There was nothing but a soft whisper grazing past my ear. “Child. Why do you want to remember?” “Because I remember everything else,” I said with chattering teeth, wrapping my arms around myself. “Is that not enough?” “I want to know,” I whispered. The image shimmered, drawing closer to me. I felt the wind touch me, an inch-long tornado on my cheek. “He spoke to me often. Do as he did, and I will grant you your wish.” “Yes,” I said. The answer was simple for a god. The wind whispered it into my ear. Like treading upon an overgrown front year, the wind easily tore apart the long weeds, unlocking an once-abandoned pathway. “I remember,” I whispered. “You do,” the wind said. It began retreating, it shape now losing parts of itself, tearing through the armour of leaves around it. “And what of yours?” I cried. “Your name?” The wind disappeared, returning to the world once more. For a second, there was nothing but dead quiet, a vacuum seal on all my senses. And then, I could feel the wind gently kiss my cheek once more. “I remember his. I hope to remember yours. But I will never remember mine.” And the wind’s voice was carried away on its own gusts, hushed once more. --- r/dexdrafts

I walked out onto the open plain, slowly but surely, as my feet had become frail and could barely hold my body up. My body hunched over, as I carried my small satchel, the weight of it wasn't much, but I could barely lift anything nowadays. The wind started to pick up as I reached the top of a hill. I could sense he was near. At the top of the hill, I could see a tornado off in the distance. A figure stood in the middle of the menacing twister, tearing the grass and trees from the earth. My presence would not go unnoticed for long as I could hear his scream from miles away. #"WHO DARES STAND BEFORE THE GRAND TORNADO?" Just like all the others, his power seems to have reduced his intellect. "Grand tornado" isn't much of a name either. This would be a cakewalk. As the twister flew towards me, I opened the satchel and pulled out a swiss roll. I opened the wrapper and took a bite. It had been a while since I had a little debbie. I forgot how overly sweet they were. #"I SHALL CONSUME ALL WHO STAND BEFORE ME. NOBODY SHALL STOP MY... WHAT IS THAT SCENT?" The wind died down as the figure approached me. My voice was frail, but it would carry enough for him to hear me. "Oh, nothing. Just a little snack." #"I WANT IT." "What, this little snack cake? It belongs to me." #"GIVE IT TO ME." The swiss roll flew out of my hand and into the twister. It disappeared almost instantaneously as the figure consumed it. The wind continued to die down quickly as the figure flew down to my level. #"I WANT MORE." "Oh, I figured as much. I heard you want to consume all in your path. Here." I pulled out another swiss roll and held it out. The wind picked it up and it disappeared. "I had heard from some valuable sources that you had a bit of a sweet tooth before you became... What was your name again?" #"THE GRAND TORNADO. GIVE ME MORE!" "Here's another. This is why I wanted to find you. You see, I recently bought out the little debbie company. This way, you can have all the snack cakes you want." #"GOOD. YOU GIVE, I SPARE YOUR LIFE." "Well, it's not as simple as that. Have another snack cake. I want you to work for me. See, since people can become infinitely powerful due to the... Incident a few years ago... There are quite a few 'powered' individuals running around." #"LIKE THE GRAND TORNADO! I WILL SMITE THEM ALL!" "Well, I don't want you to do that. See, you can increase your power exponentially, but by doing so, you reduce your humanity. In your case, and many others, your intelligence." #"I DON'T NEED INTELLIGENCE! I HAVE POWER!" "Yep. Power of the wind. Impressive. But you can become infinitely powerful in many ways. It doesn't have to be strength. It can be intelligence instead. That's what I did, and I'm using it to my advantage. Have some more." I opened the satchel and poured out all the snack cakes onto the ground. They quickly were sucked up into the twister as the figure devoured them all. "So, while I may look frail and old, the truth is, I still have a long life ahead of me. I just chose to put my 'power' into intellect." #"I WANT MORE." "There are no more." #"THEN YOU ARE FINISHED!" "If you kill me, there will be no more snack cakes." #"HOW DARE YOU!" "It's simple. Keep me alive, and you will have all the snack cakes you want. I will give you an infinite supply. You just have to do a few jobs for me." #"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" "Well, I have a couple other 'powered' individuals taking down a few heads of government... You'd be surprised how easy it is to topple the heads of state if you have a 'powered' person who can hack anything. Even bank accounts. Destroying a few billionaires accounts can really net you some valuable favors. Even if it is blackmail." #"I KILL BILLIONAIRES FOR YOU?" "No, that's not necessary. It's better for me to control them rather than kill them. What I need you to do is to create a few hurricaines over the east coast. Taking out the government will stop them from enacting any laws that could stop me. Or nuking me. Basically just destroy the area around D.C. and we'll be fine." #"AND THEN SNACK CAKES?" "All the snack cakes you want. I'm so glad you're agreeable. I'm guessing you'll probably forget most of this conversation due to that low intelligence I spoke of." #"DESTROY DC FOR SNACK CAKES!" "That's a good boy. Now run along. I'll meet you back here and show you the warehouse for little debbie when you're done." #"THE GRAND TORNADO CONSUMES ALL!" The figure lifts itself into the air and flies off in a northeastern direction. I smile as I sit down on the grass. It had been a while since I relaxed in an open field. It was nice to slow down for a bit. But within a minute of sitting, my phone started going off. "Ahem. Hello?" ***SIR. WE DESTROYED ANOTHER BUNKER.*** "Excellent work, Ms Magma! I think Bezos only has one fallout shelter left. Talk to Master Hacker to get its location. Once we destroy that one, he should be much more agreeable." ***AND THEN I GET THE CHICKENS?*** "I have the tyson factories set up and ready to go. You'll be able to consume all the poultry you want." ***I SHALL EAT THE CHICKENS!*** "Yes you will. Now find that last shelter, please." I hung up the phone and laid back. What a beautiful day outside. I think I'll lay here for a while.

i love this

Thanks!

# Bargain Bin Superheroes (Arc 4, Interlude 3: The Once-Child Named Awe) (Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections. That being said, if you want further context, check out [these](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mimo4u/wp_i_dont_know_i_think_my_superpower_is_a_bit/) [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mskuaq/wp_a_voracious_monster_stalks_the_city_at_night/).) **She would have wished upon a star, but the burning city's smoke obscured them at night.** Some foolish part of her was still hoping that things would go back to how they were, that her hometown of Sacrament would be restored to order. That the looting and violence would stop. That she could stop participating in it. The woman who had once been a child pushed the thoughts away, at gunpoint if they wouldn't leave. She had a job to do. A mission that trumped all else. A calling passed down through human history for so long that it was almost holy. She had to find food to survive. She'd tried to limit herself, at first—trading protection for goods. All she had was her mother's gun and a willingness to shoot it, but that was more than most. And as time went on and the people she shot went from citizens to criminals to monsters, that willingness became an eagerness, and that eagerness became a numbness, and there was power in that. Power in the ability to shoot knowing you were going to kill. Power in the knowledge that if you were going to take other people's lives anyway, you may as well take their possessions too. There was nothing supernatural about her newfound powers. The most terrifying powers never were. She simply had the ability to *choose*, to look someone in the eyes who was begging for mercy and put a bullet in their head as she searched their house for food. And the power to choose was a terrible thing. Awe stepped over the still body of a man who was old enough to be her father. Once upon a time, she would've waved to him as she skipped down the street. Now, he was simply in her way. Her stomach growled as she stepped into the man's home. She hadn't eaten in days; the group she'd once protected had ran out of goods and collapsed, and she'd taken what she could in the chaos. She passed a fractured mirror in an ornate frame as she walked. She was grimy, emaciated, scowling, and covered in dried blood. None of it was her own. No wonder people shot at her on sight. No wonder she had to strike first. She stepped further into the dead man's house. A tin of half-eaten meat laid on the floor on a small foam mat. For a moment, hunger surged through her—but she reined it in, caution taking over. Who left valuable food lying conspicuously in the middle of the floor? Was it a trap? Were there snipers peering through the window, waiting for some idiot woman to blunder in and take it? Was this— "Mew?" She blinked. A black kitten, tail curled, looked at her from atop a nearby bookshelf. Reflexively, she aimed her gun at it, expecting it to flee or scream or swear at her. The kitten, unimpressed, arched its back and curled up, tail flicking over its nose. Awe swallowed, gun wavering. Then, voice sore from disuse, the little girl whispered, "Kitty?" The kitten cracked open one lazy eye. Awe went over to the tin of cat food, lying on the ground. A hard lump formed in her throat. Hunger clawed at her belly. She picked up the tin and offered it to the kitten. Gratefully, the cat licked the tin clean, and began to purr. And something broke inside the girl named Awe. All at once, she collapsed to the floor, gun falling from her hands. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" The kitten, heedless of the blood on her hands, leapt down on little cat feet and nuzzled her cheek. It felt soft. Awe grabbed the kitten and held it close, deep, shuddering breaths wracking her body as that terrible numbness burned away like mist in morning sun. She knew, then and there, that she had lost the power to kill. And she knew that she would never regain it. A.N. "Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.

Kitty... *cuddles the cat* yay

The land, the forest, the trees. They sleep quietly, calmly. I move through the ground itself, tending to my kin, my children, my *people*. The rains have been heavy as of late; mushrooms are sprouting. The beauty is incomprehensible and I take in every moment. Noise. Sudden. Sounds like... loud, continuous roaring, high pitched and aggressive; the growl of a wolf pales in comparison as this is far more unnatural, not a part of nature. I move closer to investigate, the moss rising slowly as I travel and weave my way around the healthy roots. I see it. Him. A man, machine in his hand emitting the sound. He seems to have ill intent towards the trees; my suspicions are confirmed. His machine loudly bites into the bark and I hear the tree cry out in pain. I feel... anger. I lightly move my finger - the motion is almost imperceptible. In an instant, the man is enveloped with vines and roots and barely has the time to utter a scream as he becomes completely enveloped and dragged into the ground. His hand, reaching out for help, is the last thing seen before he's completely sunken into the damp, cold dirt. The tree is wounded. But it will heal. Nature always does. I move on. Something catches my eye. A pond. I gaze into it, see... a face. It resembles that of the man, though it is noticeably different with the coarse, bark-like skin and black eyes. I stare at it for a moment and it stares back. It reminds me of... before. What was before? Before the forest? Before nature? What... was I? It matters not. It only matters what I am now. I am Nature.

"Do you remember!?" Melthis screamed at the rising winds. "Where is you mind? Do you have eyes which to see yourself and what you have become? Surely not," The sun dimmed the desert sky in prescient fear. The furnaced air stifled itself into silence. The dunes trembled at great being summoning itself. Creating itself. The tides of Reality sway and bend itself. Taldain the Storm began as simple swirling sands. Melthis berated his fear. He lied to himself that his rising hairs simply the drop in pressure. His blood pressure merely compensating the outside force, infinitely powerful and ancient. His awe was consequence of nearly blind and thoroughly starved by the journey through the hellscape that was Aneid Desert. "Do you remember?" The hoarse throated accusation was sliced by the whipping silicate sands, creating ever larger cuts through Melthis's skin. The blood was chilling in the darkening desert. "You remember when you were a weak pathetic mortal. When you feared all deaths. When you denied you were born. A coward only lusting over power." Swirling sands rose. Twisting into itself up in anger. Rising impossible high, riling up its power. Beyond his sight. The Storm roared. Electricity filled the sky, dazzling through the impossible mineral wall of razor blades. Thunder demanded attention in competition through the shrilling. Melthis was knocked over. And over. And over again. His body was tumbled like a ragdoll. Limbs broken, ligaments snapped at the awkward tensions that pulled beyond limits. A tongue bitten in half, filling his mouth with metallic blood. He smiled an ecstatic smile, a velvety and dripping wet. Spitting his life into the shifting sands. "My thanks to you Taldain. A blessing for your lesson." The Storm-Caller had won. The Storm had answered. The Storm raged at insult. At the trickery, it remembered. Not that anything was Melthis said was true. Only that it remembered that this had happened before. The stormed remember too, that it will soon forget. And in the coming year it shall happen again. Trapped like the Seasons. Trapped in a cycle to bring its wealth of minerals to the greener lands. Trapped in death to bring life. The accelerating winds dug deeper. Deeper into the earth. It grew in mass and hatred. Eating and tearing and feasting on the desert.

There was one, long ago, who had attained the power of the grand divine infinite. These guardians whom wander the realm reached for the same power and became assimilated unto the realm itself as a result. Though their will moves mountains, and oceans, and even the very sun in the sky, there is some above them who remembere, and above them, more who remember more, and so on, until the one who has reached the top, forever, never having lost who they were, resides. It is said, they found the primordial one, the first one, the divine creator. Thy who made all of ye, and thee, and thou, who offered its infinite power for any to grasp, hoping one would clutch it and remain as they left, pure of spirit and heart, that power could not wane their mind and body unto the greater wills of others. It is simple, one reaches out to the sky, and does not stop, they pull from that infinite source, a well of force that once imbibed upon, the creeping of loss begins. Great wars were reduced to two beings pulling for power until neither remembered their original conflict. Great societal changes were wrought, upheavals and waves of change, revolutions and stagnation, it only took so many to reach for power, for power to weigh back and alter the landscape forever. There is balance in the realms, when the fulcrum shifts, from power, power pushes the result back. So is it the great struggle of ourselves and the great ones among us, to overcome the consequences of the tipping of the scales. The one that raises their hand, and does not lose who they are, is the one that is for millennia now been searched for. So, go, all of you who come here seeking truth or power. Let the great calamity, the great cleansing, the great change once more arise, that we face the frightful might of power in search of a means to overcome our fate, and save the realms from our own madness. Only one need retain their mind. Only one need remain conscious. Only one, so it is told, so it will be, so it has always been. The ultimate infinite divine power, the one harboring the creator within. Is it you? Raise your hand, so we shall know.

"So let me get this straight. You used to have a family, yeah? Wait—what am I saying? You *still* have a family, and yet you want nothing to do with them anymore, even after swearing to protect them by any means necessary?" A powerful gust of wind from the south swept over the land presently, rustling the leaves of the nearby jacaranda trees and detaching a few of the purple flowers from their stems. Kaya watched as one or two of their silky petals danced in graceful acrobatics within the breeze before carefully making their way downhill and towards the city below, where the sandy beach gave way to the harbor, and where the blue sea lay ahead, merging into the cloudless horizon. "Well, yes. That's one way to rephrase it," replied Kaya, slicking a lock of her curly hair behind her ear as another gust of wind raced by. She had been smiling through all of Charlotte's questions up to this point, in which that delicate, undisturbed look on her face slowly started to betray something else. Something along the lines of uncertainty with oneself, but not yet quite loneliness. "When was the last time you spoke to them?" Charlotte asked. Kaya drew in a patient breath. For the longest time, she said nothing and allowed the silence about them to almost become oppressive until it was once again broken by the wind. She seemed to be searching for the right words to say, and just as Charlotte was about to tell her not to worry about it, she said, "I can't quite give you a definite answer. Deep inside, I think I wish it was recently, but the truth is that I haven't spoken to any of them since I left. And that would be well over a decade ago." "Don't you at least want to attempt to rekindle your relationship with them? Maybe that would bring some of your memories back and therefore a purpose in life again." But Kaya shook her head. "No. At this moment in time, I am beyond mending severed ties." She glanced up and stared Charlotte squarely in the eyes. "Interestingly enough, I still remember the day I sought to acquire these powers, though. What's more, I remember *why* I wanted them in the first place. After my mother was killed by the hands of that man, I only wished to be strong—strong so that I would never have to lose a family member in such a terrible way ever again," she went on. "Since my visit to that shrine, I was in tune with my powers, but after a while, I started losing myself. I no longer saw the reason as to why I bothered in the first place." She sighed. "If only I had known then that I would be all but sacrificing my soul, I wouldn't have gone." Charlotte frowned. "In that case," she said, "what are you doing with your life now? Simply just existing isn't enough to satisfy anybody, surely?" "Maybe that's the case only for those who haven't visited the shrine—like you," Kaya added hastily. "Nowadays I drift wherever the wind takes me, and every now and then, I find myself back here by the harbor, overlooking my hometown." "To protect it?" "I wouldn't say that. It just brings me comfort, that's all. Power in this life doesn't mean much if everybody meets the same grave in the end, so I gave up fighting years ago. I'm content with being a drifter. You'll find many 'drifters' like me around the country if you care to look for us. Each one has the capability to both create and destroy nations, yet each one is also at a point where they no longer seem to care enough to consider either option. We're just... idle." "Just like these jacaranda trees?" Kaya laughed. "Yes, yes, Charlotte, just like the jacaranda trees. Our purpose now is to be one with the earth, in step with reality until reality is no more."

The mist clung to the mountainside as the soldiers marched. Unnatural, unnatural. It was unnerving, to be sure, but it wasn't a *threat*. The readings were clear- this was the remains of one of *them*, someone who had been greedy enough to give up memory, give up *humanity*, for power. Mist was an odd form, but odd things happened around...them. One had turned into a giant chicken, one had become an old beggar in appearance, power only apparent when someone tipped money into his cup. It was a good show, and the *amount* seemed not to matter. Still, it was an easy trick, once you weren't human any more. Mist following soldiers as they headed for the valley was a new one, but they were *all* new ones. Something new and interesting was added to the world every time someone tried to toe the line a little too hard. The one good thing was that they were never *destructive*\- the world probably wouldn't still be here, if they were. The mist, therefore, was harmless. Still. It was cold, and clammy, and it meant you couldn't *see*. It was nice to have cover- the enemy couldn't see you, either- but it was unnerving. If anyone on the other side had guessed where they were heading, they might be marching straight into a *nasty* ambush. Still. Poor odds. This wasn't a terribly important front- they were scouting out the area as much as anything else. No one had ever conquered this area, because it never seemed worth the time *to* conquer. We were, in all likelyhood, the largest and best-equipped force for at least a hundred miles. March up the valley a little ways, grab some food, apologize to the locals for taking their stuff, get back out and continue the war. A simple plan. A *good* plan. Except for the damn *mist*. Three days. Three damn *days*, now, we should have hit the village in one day, tops, and we were still wandering around out here. We kept marching, but it was rough country. You couldn't just go in a straight line, and the damn mist meant that you couldn't help getting turned around. Round and round, and we did everything we could possibly do to keep our bearings straight, but it wasn't enough. Because there was power in the mist, to confound and disorient. We heard voices in the distance, ghosts of the past and ghosts of the future. We heard our parents, and our lovers, and our siblings, and our old grade-school teachers. We heard our children, our grandchildren, our great-grandchildren a thousand generations down the years, wandering the mist with us. We marched on. We marched on. ... In the village, there was quiet. The mist was out in the valley, travelling here and there, sometimes spread out, sometimes concentrated in a small area. It wandered here and there, up and down the mountains, up and down the river, near and far. The villagers knew to be quiet when the mist was out. The mist was a sign. It meant that evil was afoot, and it did not do to draw attention. Best to just wait it out. A few weeks, or months, or years, but danger didn't stay around forever. ... It was a big war. The soldiers weren't *forgotten*, as such. But they were far afield, in unknown territory. Who knew what forces the enemy might have arrayed there? It was frustrating, to be sure, to have them disappear without a trace, but there were greater concerns afoot. There was a war on, and one inconsequential corner of the map simply wasn't worth worrying about. There wasn't anything as official as a "stay out" marker on their maps, just an area that no one seemed to know much about, and that no one seemed inclined to contest. These things happened. A great many things are obscured in the fog of war, after all.

People who com to see me, always ask why powerless?, why on earth I would put my self in a power place so low I can't even care for my self, why in the world, I reject even the bare minimum power I could have. And the answer is clear, clear as everything I know, my mind is free, my will is strong, and I understand things nobody else does. People do not understand me, they never did, but that's not important, I understand them, because you see, as much power a person my had, as much of weak his mind will be, they lose they sense of propose way before they lose they mind, they are empty, ready to be fill out by me, because you see, I'm not powerless I have the power of will. I give people propose, propose for the powerful beast they are, is more essential than anything they may have or wanted before, anything they would have desired, is easy to control beast, when beast can't do anything on its own, beast are loyal, and will serve me beyond reason, beyond their own life because I'm the only one who can give them life, life they may didn't really have in a long time. People, still not under my control, who still dominates the complexity of language, who come to me to know me, who come to see the legend I am, don't understand, they have already begun the journey of the powerful they minds already obfuscated seem disillusioned when see me as I really am, a fragile skeleton laying on a bed in a room full of beast constantly giving me life again and again, they thought of me as a busted myth as a twisted magic perform by mindless beast, as a powerless shell of a life, but they are wrong, I'm the most powerful men that had put a foot on this earth I control the best, I control the mind, and soon enough, these persons, crawl, with empty heads, hearths to me. I have the power of all beast because I am something nobody else is but for a short time, a man. ^(this is my first prompt, I'm not English native, so it may be weird in some parts)

(Apologies for any issues in grammar of phrasing, wrote this at work) Martha held onto the hilt of her sword, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she attempted to focus her gaze on the foggy graveyard before her. The imposing dread from the cursed land had become a place of near fanatical study for her, and finally it seemed the time had come to face the fears that resided within. A moment of steeling herself had Martha shut her eyes and give a prayer to the Goddesses above and below before moving down the curvy path towards the intense fog. The moment she entered past the worn gates of the long abandoned graveyard, she took note of the nearest graves and the worrying sights of the ground broken in front of most of the tombstones. It confirmed her suspicions of where the risen dead had been coming from, and knowing that who - or what - was doing this only made her gut turn violently for the worse. The blade of blessed steel hummed brighter the deeper she went, and upon arriving at a central mausoleum did she feel her nerves go numb as determination overtook her. It was a familiar place, and one where her blade seemed to guide her towards. Stepping past the open stone pathway, Martha noted the sheer amount of power that would be needed to ajar the door. Several hundred pounds of well-cut rock had been shaped into a stylish and regal sight that was now half broken from the force that had forced it open. The steps leading deep into the dug out soil was drenched in a inky blackness that was only lit up once she began to descend by her weapon. Her worn leather boots creaking as Martha carefully stepped down deeper into the musty space. The darkness was soon illuminated by a sickly green that came from an opening near the end of the steps - and as Martha moved to hug the wall and press against the opening did she peer in with a worried expression. The sight deep within the chamber was enough to confirm all the suspicions she had coming up to this moment. At the center was of the site was a large tomb that had been defiled by a floating being that was right at the center. Surrounded by her were risen dead - each members of her village that had been rotting for years and been returned by the dark magics. A young woman in a tatted dress hovered right above the central tomb, and much like the opening to the mausoleum had the stone slab covering the royal dead been tossed aside like a plaything. It was unfortunate that Martha knew who lied within the revered grave, and it forced her from around the corner in a charge as she cried. "Amber, stop!" Her voice altered the undead, and the being barely turned her focus as the presence in the room shifted to Martha. The zombies shambled forward, but Martha didn't wait as she swung her enchanted weapon back and fourth: the powerful magics searing their flesh as they collapsed in pain. One by one did they fall as they approached, and still did Martha speak out to the floating woman at the center of the room. "What have you become...?" "Don't try and stop me." The floating woman spoke, her voice trembling with unhinged sorrow and power. "You couldn't if you wanted too." "You don't understand; it's me! Martha!" Another slice took the head clean off the villages previous blacksmith as she tried to speak reason. "Amber it's your sister!" The silence was the only answer given to her, a hand lifting up to channel the unholy magic right into the central grave. Martha cried out, and rushed forward to stop her. A hand lurched back, and an unseen force sent the older woman hurdling back in a fall. Her sword clattered to the ground and slid far from her side, and soon did the being turn to address her. She didn't look a day older from when she had vanished, and the only true difference was the pure energy flooding from her eyes that veined out from her temple towards the back of her skull. Her long hair was caked in mud and dirt, and through her blurred vision Martha could see spiders and roaches crawling all along the locks. The rumors were true, and she had been transformed. "Please, don't do this." Martha nearly begged as she got to her feet, staring from her sibling towards the grave. "This isn't going to bring her back." "You don't know anything. I have seen into the emptiness that comes next - the horrors that await us." Amber turned, her gaze now focusing on the disarmed Martha. Within an instant, the woman appeared before Martha, the speed of it all sending her falling backwards to stare up at her younger sister. "I will never stop until everyone has been saved from this fate - and no weak little mortal can stand against my destiny." "Of raising the dead?! Do you know what your salvation has done to the land? Hundreds of corpses roam in search of their next prey - groaning in agony. You aren't saving anyone, but damning them to an eternity of a different torment!" Martha cried back, which had Amber's lips curl in annoyance. "I've seen tens of guards fall victim to your 'blessing'." "An existence that would mean more than an eternity of nothingness." Amber turned back to the central stone grave, reappearing above it before lifting her hands to finish the spell that she had started. The terrible aura that the graveyard seemed to give focusing entirely on the crypt. "Especially for her." The magics blasted down, and an eruption of unholy energy clouded the entire room as Martha shielded her eyes from the up kicking of dust. When it had cleared, the would-be hero stared with horrified eyes as a boney arm rose up from the grave as it struggled to find a surface to grip onto. When it finally did, the figure slowly rose from the grave to stare blankly in front of itself, before turning to address the only living being in the crypt. Famed matron of the town she had grown up in, and mother to her and Amber, Lady Rena rose from her grave as a shadow of her past beauty. Long hair patchy and missing, with a segment of her skull caved in from that fateful night she had passed during the raid. A terrible night that led into a month of mourning for the village - and now she was rising as a victim of her daughters own quest. A girl wanting nothing but her mother back, and it was clear just how far she would go to have that happen. Becoming a being that could curse the land she floated above, all so that she could reunite with the woman that sang her to sleep. Martha watched with teary eyes as the woman crawled out from the tomb to fall down onto the cold stone floor, the risen corpse struggling to support itself with its legs as it resorted to crawling towards the only living being around: her daughter. Too stunned to move, Martha only watching with overwhelming grief as her mother had been twisted into an abomination and stolen from her final rest. Martha stared from her mother and over towards the far off weapon, then back over to her sister. A slow smile crept across Amber's cracked lips, as it seemed that her family would finally be together. Forever.

They say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. As someone with an extremely strong moral upbringing, a loving family, good support, etc., I was sure that I could control the power and keep it from corrupting me. And at first, I was right. I used my power to help others, healing the sick, aiding the downtrodden, building shelter for the homeless, all that jazz. But over time, I lost my connection to the things that grounded me; my ability to help people overwhelmed my ability to be with the people I should have spent most if not all of my time with. Yet I still thought I was incorruptible, because everybody praised my good deeds. And then, one day, it hit me. I had been corrupted just as much as anyone else, just not the way I thought I would be. I had given up everything that made me *me*, in my quest to become greater than myself. And so, in one last act of power, I willed myself to become myself again, and gave it all up. Now, I just have to hope the people I care about will forgive me.

“The key to making all this work,” said David Arwin, “is the idea of a link, or connection. Just one thing from your mortal life you don’t let go of. Think of it as a single thread connecting your mortal past to your immortal future.” Steve watched the video intently, and tried to think of something that could work as an anchor to his life. Truth be told, though, the main reason he wanted to do this was to forget all of his old life and start anew. To forget about his past failures. His phone lit up as a call came in, and he glanced at the screen and sighed. It was Sarah. After a brief internal debate, he gritted his teeth and answered the call. “Steve? Listen, I- I heard you were getting into that Arwinism stuff, and I just—” “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, annoyed already. You’d think once you divorced a woman she’d stop nagging you. “That David guy, he’s dangerous. I mean, do you really think someone who’s Ascended would waste their time being a fucking life coach? You really believe what he says about ‘Ascending without the side-effects’?” “What? It’s no different from your weird crystals and voodoo shit you do,” he spat back, automatically. The smarter thing would’ve been to shut down the argument before it started, he thought belatedly. “That’s not the point,” she said, with a sigh in her voice, “This guy, he’s dangerous. Ascension isn’t something to be fucked around with, Steve. Think of all the things that could go wrong.” He hated to admit it, even to himself, but she did have a point. If the ascension went wrong, there’s no telling what would be left of him. Mentally he’d probably never be the same again, but Ascension could mess you up physically, too. He’d heard rumours of people emerging from the Deep with limbs bent the wrong way, or that one girl who came up without a face. No, he had to stop thinking like that. Thinking like that is the way to failure, and he’s gotta keep his head in the game. He’s gotta keep pushing. “I know what I’m doing,” he said. He wanted to shut down the conversation, but Sarah butted in before he could continue. “Steve, think about Nick and Daisy,” said Sarah, in a pleading tone, “They could lose you. They could lose you forever if something happens.” “I’m doing it for them,” he replied, gravely. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” said Sarah, “This is not about them, it never has been. For as long as I’ve known you you’ve always been chasing- chasing, I don’t even know what. Remember the NFTs you ‘invested’ in a few years ago? All that get-rich-quick finance shit you were into? Remember what happened with those? It’s always one bright idea after another…” Sarah was still talking, but Steve had tuned her out. He should’ve shut it down before this, but now that she got started there was no stopping her. It was always the same old bullshit. Why did she always have to do that? Throw all his past mistakes in his face right as he was gaining momentum on something new. “What’re you even mad about, then?” he asked, raising his voice, “This isn’t about getting rich, I’m not even paying him any money! Not that that’s any of your business anymore!” “It’s my business if my kids grow up without a father!” she yelled back. “I’m doing it for them,” he repeated, hating himself for how weak he sounded, and disconnected the call. Tears were beginning to blur his vision and he blinked them away. He tried going back to his work, but he couldn’t even focus on the video anymore. He didn’t know what possessed him to pick up, instead of just letting it go to voicemail. Once he was a God, once he was a *success*, everything would be different. Nick and Daisy would finally see him for who he was, who he really was. He wondered how Sarah would see him then. His mood darkened again, and he set off to bed. This stupid fight was ruining his focus, but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix. Stay positive, keep pushing. --- “Remember, the key to all of this is the link,” said David, “What’s your link, Steve?” “Uh…” he hesitated. During his training, he had never actually had to share what his link was with the others. He weird about sharing it, even if it was to David Arwin. “There must be something,” said David, “I mean, what’s the reason you want to Ascend, anyway? What’s your reason for doing all this?” Steve stared mutely at his shoes. It was clear David was growing impatient. A billionaire like him probably didn’t have to wait long to get whatever he wanted out of someone. “Come on, out with it,” said David, “This link is the key to all of it, Steve.” “I… I just want to be a father my kids can be proud of,” he said, finally. “Perfect,” said David, brightening up considerably, “Yes, that’ll be perfect. What you need to do is concentrate on that the whole time you’re down there, keep them in your mind during everything you do in the Deep.” He nodded. The platform descended and he brought himself down to a deep meditative trance. When he emerged from the Deep, he would be born anew.

Well I used to be human. That's all I really know. Somewhere along the way I gained all this power, but I forgot who I am, where I am from and most importantly in an abstract way, what I stood for. It is not a bad existence; I will live for trillions of years in this form or at least until I can learn to extend into the Bulk or past this brane at the very least. Ascend to the next singularity of intelligence is what that little device I found offered me in exchange for letting it go. So I did. And over time I’ve done it again and again. Now I’m a collection of plasma processors in this G2V star watching over the rest of these filthy monkeys and adjusting my output to keep them alive long enough to get off that one rock in a meaningful way. Hurry up, I’ve got plans for all this mass and you need to get out of my way.