Blackness, void, emptiness, not the sight of shielded eyes, but that of the blind, like one trying to look out the back of their head.

  No sound, no breath nor heartbeat, no grinding of joints or the gurgle of digestion, not even the imagined droning of tinnitus.

  No smells, not good or bad, nor even the constant smell of yourself that one never notices.

  No taste, no trace of toothpaste or gum, no lingering food or drink, nor the taste of my own mouth.

  No touch, no wind on my skin or clothes on my form, no shifting of my limbs or hair, none of the comforting pressure of gravity nor the ever present knowledge granted by proprioception.

  Nothing but my thoughts, drifting with nothing to ground them. No reality to center myself around. Memories and imagination flowing like fluid in my mind on indistinct currents. The life I lived indistinguishable from any book, game, or nightmare.

  What was I? A man? A beast? Rock? Sword? Dragon? God? Was I any of these? More than one? Perhaps these are all my past lives coming to the fore or maybe I wasn't any of these and they are merely echos of others in the void. Howls of agony from those who don't wish to be forgotten. Did I scream too? Was I heard?

  Did I even exist before? Or is the void my home? The womb in which I came to be? Does it matter? Do I- PAIN!/AGONY!/LIGHT!

  No, not pain, pain I remember. This is light, cast on metaphorical eyes that haven't seen the day in a time they no longer remember. After so long in the dark the light is a foreign thing. It assaults my mind, grounding it in a way it might never have been. Focused on the present, where once time held no meaning.

  'What? How? Why? Who?'

  The light speaks or whatever it is I perceive as such. I would have thought it another dream had it not been more real, more now, then anything I can recall. Experiencing sensation is the strongest deja vu imaginable. So new yet so right.

  It tells me of my soul. How it has outlasted all others. I suppose my musings weren't far off. The void is home and my previous universe an egg in which I formed.

  'Why were you created and by whom? What am I? What are they?'

  'So I'm some immortal god or somthing?'

  I have apparently thrived in what most consider unsurvivable. Not that I would consider my previous state thriving but I digress.

  'What do you mean by manipulate? And why do others need protection from the void?'

  Oookay, so I'm some eldritch abomination. Fantastic.

  How does one express the will to exist? What will it form? What should I try to be?

  I don't think I should be to vague about this, that's probably how the unholy abominations of fractal eyes/tentacles/mouths come to be. I think I should try for somthing simple. What do I need a body for, as in what do I need to use it to do? Hmm, movement for one, sensing my surroundings definitely, and finally interaction. I think that's everything... probably.

  So how will I go about doing said things? How will I move? Ok, so I'm in the void, how does one move without ground? Wings? No, to complicated, maybe a tail? Yeah, a tail will work. Then, I think the classic tentacle is my best bet for interaction, but I'll keep the number at two for simplicity's sake. Ok, last thing, what senses would even work in the void? I should only pick one if I'm going for a simple form, the choice is obviously sight. So eyes or better yet since I don't really need depth perception in the empty nothingness, just the one.

  So they said I need to 'will it' whatever that means. I focus on the aspects of the form I have chosen and try to push it mentally, but nothing happens. So I try again, and again, and again. Futilly straining against nothing. Alright I'm obviously doing something wrong, but what? I'm willing it as I was told so why isn't it working?

  It hits me suddenly, they didn't say anything about my mind being special, but that my soul was. So instead of try to force my mental picture outwards, I look within. I delve into the ever shifting thoughts and concepts that is myself searching for somthing different. I study the ebbs and flows for what seems like an eternity before I notice it. It like the rest of me is ever changing but not in position but in form. One moment a seed, the next a spark, and even more. The concept of beginning, of creation, stagnant in my core. It calls to me, not in words nor even thoughts or emotions. No, it's so much more, an instinct, a burning need, I feel if I don't do it I'll die. So I do what all newborns instinctualy seek to do. I inhale and I SCREAM.

  I howl into the void, branding my existence into the very fabric of reality. Erasing all possibilities other than one in which I am. And then I hear them, screeches, roars, rumbles, and all manner of calls. Echos of the others greeting me to being. Telling me I'm not alone.

  The void shifts, the building blocks of existence falling into place with a soul shuddering clack. One instant I'm but a soul, an ephemeral blob in the nothing. The next, I am more. The transition is as jarring as it is sudden. Sending my mind into chaos as I am inundated with more sensation than I can handle. One by one, they click into place. Proprioception comes first, the instinctual knowledge of where my body is relative to itself. Touch follows shortly after, as I feel the void flow around me, caressing me like a summers breeze. Last is sight, the currents of possibility churning in my vision, never manifesting but always present.

  I am.

  And just like that the light is gone. But that's ok, I don't need them any more, because with my form comes knowledge, instinct and history all in one. Small gifts from the echos of my brethren, bits of knowledge, tips and tricks, and most importantly my name.

  I am Vythyreia

  (vih-theer-ray-uh)