In the beginning, there was nothing. No light, no sound, no space. And in that great void existed a consciousness so vast it was the very essence of it, a being known only as Gor'rak.
He was the Architect of existence, the one who willed reality into being. With a thought, he stretched the threads of time and wove the tapestry of space. With a whisper, he laid down the laws of motion and the rules of gravity, forgoing instinct for order. He forged suns from stardust and gave life to planets from mere silence. From his hand came all things, and all things were subservient to him.
Yet, after eons of creation and countless universes brought to life, a terrible emptiness took hold. Gor'rak beheld all that was, all that would be, and all that could have been. He saw the end of every story before its beginning. There was no joy, no surprise, no purpose. He had no equals to share in his triumph, and no challenges to give his existence meaning. He was master of all, yet master of nothing at all. He was truly and utterly alone.
Driven by a profound weariness, the Architect made a final decree: he would abandon his work. He could not undo it, for creation was absolute. Instead, he would cast off the very thing that made him a god, his consciousness and his infinite power. He chose to forge a new vessel, one bound by the laws he himself had created. He would give himself mortality, frailty, and, most importantly, the gift of forgetting.
And so, he did. He emptied himself, and his boundless power, now untethered, scattered across the universes like a wild, untamed sea. The world he had created was left to spin on its own, a silent monument to its vanished maker. And somewhere, on a small, blue planet, the final creation stirred, unaware of the universe it had left in its wake, now just a man without a name.