Lucien stood in the infinite expanse of the Primordial Void, the roots of the World Tree coiling and pulsating like living rivers of existence. His Abyssal Eyes traced every thread of reality, every latent possibility, and every potential strand of creation stretching through the void.
For a moment, he closed his eyes. His mind reached outward, not just to observe, but to will into existence. He extended the roots further, letting the essence of the World Tree flow like molten energy into the void beyond, threading its influence into the emptiness.
The void trembled. Space, time, and causality flexed at his will. Slowly, the first signs of structure emerged:
A nucleus of a multiverse formed at the center, spinning threads of potentiality, each capable of spawning countless universes. Individual universes began to crystallize around it, each with its own laws, physics, and abstract rules — some bending time in ways unfamiliar to even the Outer Gods, others containing materials or energies unseen anywhere else. Planets, stars, and celestial bodies took shape, orbiting these universes like ornaments on a cosmic lattice. Each world seemed to hum with its own latent potential, waiting for life, for consciousness, for story. Dimensional realms branched out, like the leaves of the World Tree, each with unique magical or physical rules. Some were capable of harboring civilizations, others of being playgrounds for abstract forces, or even prisons for cosmic anomalies.
Lucien observed every growth with precision. He wasn't creating at random; each strand followed logical, harmonious principles so that even the unknown laws he integrated would not destabilize the void or the Primordial Tree itself.
"A multiverse of my own design… yet free enough to evolve, to surprise even me," he murmured.
The new void pulsed as it came to life. Strange energies rippled across the nascent universes, interacting with one another in unpredictable but coherent ways. It wasn't just a copy of the Primordial Void — it had its own personality, its own rules, while still tethered to the roots of the World Tree.
Lucien extended a hand and touched one of the threads. The laws of causality bent gently to his will. A small planetary system appeared in an instant, perfectly balanced. Another, and another. Entire dimensions unfolded like petals.
Yet even as he shaped it, he allowed latent potential to remain uncontrolled, giving the void its own "freedom to grow." This was deliberate. A perfect creation was static and fragile; evolution required some independence.
A soft smile crossed his face as he looked at the new expanse — a void beyond the Primordial Void, born from the World Tree, tethered to him, yet capable of developing on its own.
"This is the first," he said softly, voice echoing across the nascent space. "And there will be many more."
Somewhere deep in the new void, energy stirred. Possibilities shimmered. Life would someday awaken here, civilizations would rise and fall, and power would manifest in ways even he could not predict.
Lucien's gaze then shifted back to Arios and Selene, and the unborn Lysara. This creation, vast and infinite though it was, would one day serve as a playground, a testing ground, and perhaps even a home for the next generation of his legacy.
And in that moment, he understood fully — the World Tree was no longer just a stabilizer, nor merely a conduit for the Primordial Void. It was now a creator of realities, a harbinger of multiversal evolution, and he, the Sole Exception, was its conscious guide.