[Lumeria, Capital of Astoria Kingdom]
Aldric walked through the streets of Lumeria with the unhurried pace of someone who had all the time in the world—because HE did. Time itself was HIS creation, after all, though the mortals bustling around HIM would never know that.
The city sprawled before HIM like a living tapestry. Cobblestone streets wound between buildings of white marble and enchanted crystal. Airships drifted overhead, their hulls carved with runic arrays that glowed softly in the afternoon sun. Market stalls lined the main boulevard, selling everything from mundane vegetables to bottled phoenix tears.
"Fresh apples! Grown with primal magic! Sweetest in all Astoria!"
"Runic weapons! Dwarven-forged! Will never dull!"
"Fortune telling! I can see your destiny written in the stars!"
HE smiled at that last one. Destiny. Such a quaint concept. The fortune teller—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and cheap mystical robes—truly believed she could glimpse fate's threads. She had no idea that fate itself was walking past her stall at that very moment, deciding moment by moment what would be.
"You there! Young man!"
Aldric turned. The fortune teller was waving at HIM, her jewelry tinkling.
"I sense something extraordinary about you," she called out. "Your aura—it's like nothing I've ever seen! Please, let me read your fortune. First reading free!"
HE walked over, genuinely curious. HE had created the concept of fortune, of cause and effect, of the threads that connected all events. What would this mortal see when she tried to read the fortune of the one who wrote fate itself?
"Very well," HE said, HIS voice gentle and warm.
The woman's eyes lit up. She grabbed HIS hand with surprising strength, pulling HIM to sit at her small table. The moment her fingers touched HIS skin, she gasped.
Her eyes went wide. The color drained from her face.
She was seeing something. Not the truth—mortals couldn't comprehend that. But an echo. A reflection. Like trying to count every star in the universe and realizing the number was infinite.
"I... I..." she stammered, her hands trembling around HIS. "You're... you're..."
"Yes?" HE prompted gently.
She released HIS hand like it burned, stumbling backward. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I saw. I can't... The cards won't... Please, forgive me."
Tears were streaming down her face, though she didn't seem to know why.
Aldric reached across the table and touched her forehead with one finger. "Peace," HE said simply.
The terror left her eyes. The memory of what she'd glimpsed faded, replaced by a warm, comforting sensation like being held by a loving parent.
"Thank you for your time," HE said, standing. HE placed a gold coin on her table—far more than any fortune reading was worth—and continued walking.
Behind HIM, the fortune teller sat in confused bliss, feeling blessed beyond measure but unable to remember why.
Aldric made HIS way deeper into the city, observing everything with fascination. A group of young mages—students, judging by their uniform robes—were practicing elemental magic in a public training square. One conjured flames that danced between his fingers. Another made water spiral in complex patterns.
They were so proud of their achievements. So delighted by their mastery over the elements.
HE had given them that. The ability to touch the Weave, to manipulate reality itself. Watching them use HIS gift filled HIM with warmth.
"Watch this!" one student called out, a cocky youth with red hair. "I've been practicing for months!"
The boy thrust both hands forward, and a massive column of fire erupted from his palms, shooting fifteen feet into the air. His friends cheered and applauded.
"That's amazing, Drake!"
"You'll definitely pass the Adept examination!"
Drake grinned, puffing out his chest. "I know, right? I'm probably the most talented fire mage in our generation. Professor Thane says I have exceptional control over—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
A man—Aldric—had walked into the training square. And without any gesture, without any incantation, without even seeming to try...
Every flame in a hundred-foot radius bent toward HIM.
Drake's conjured fire twisted away from his control, flowing through the air like a living thing drawn to a magnet. The enchanted streetlamps flickered. The flames in nearby forges surged. Even the small candles in shop windows turned, their flames leaning impossibly sideways, all pointing at the dark-haired young man.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
The flames returned to normal.
Aldric walked past the stunned students without a word, HIS expression serene and unbothered, as if HE hadn't just casually demonstrated that all fire in the world recognized its creator.
"What... what was that?" Drake whispered, his previous confidence shattered.
"I don't know," another student breathed. "But did you see his eyes? For just a second, they..."
"They what?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
[Meanwhile, in the Ashen Wastes - Dragon's Lair]
In a cave carved from volcanic glass at the world's edge, an ancient dragon opened eyes that hadn't seen light in three centuries.
Ignatius the Eternal, oldest of all dragons, felt it immediately.
IT was here.
Not watching from beyond. Not observing from the cosmic throne. Here. On Edria. In mortal form.
"Impossible," Ignatius rumbled, his voice making the mountain tremble. "Why would IT descend?"
He reached out with his consciousness, touching the ancient network that connected all dragons. Immediately, he felt others awakening. The great minds of dragonkind stirring from slumber, all sensing the same impossible truth.
"The Supreme walks the mortal realm," Ignatius sent through the network. "In human form. In the city called Lumeria."
"Should we kneel?" came a younger dragon's thoughts, tinged with fear.
"Should we flee?" another asked.
"Should we tell the other races?"
"No," Ignatius said aloud, his decision echoing through the mental link. "We watch. We wait. IT has chosen to veil ITS nature. To walk among them unknown. That is ITS will, and we do not question IT."
"But the humans—"
"Will see what IT allows them to see," Ignatius interrupted. "Nothing more. IT is Supreme. IT is Absolute. Even limited to mortal form, IT is beyond all of us combined. We simply... observe."
The dragon network fell silent, but none of the great wyrms returned to sleep.
How could they, when God walked the world?
[The Spirit Realm - Simultaneously]
In a realm that existed parallel to the mortal world, woven between the threads of reality like a second tapestry overlaying the first, the spirits felt it too.
The Spirit Realm—a place of pure magical essence where souls passed after death, where elemental spirits were born, where the Weave itself was visible as rivers of flowing light. It was a realm invisible to most mortals, accessible only to shamans, spiritualists, and those who had transcended normal existence.
And in this realm, everything was going mad.
Spirits of all kinds—fire spirits, water spirits, ancient ancestor souls, minor gods of rivers and mountains—all felt the disturbance. The Weave itself was singing, vibrating with joy and recognition.
"IT is here!" a fire spirit shrieked, its form blazing brighter than ever before. "The Creator! IT walks the mortal realm!"
"Why?" an ancient ancestor soul asked, its form that of a wizened old woman made of silver light. "IT has never descended before. Not in all the ages we have existed."
"Does it matter?" a water spirit laughed, spinning in joyous circles. "IT is here! We must celebrate! We must—"
"We must do nothing," a deeper voice commanded.
The spirits turned. Floating before them was Valdris the Eternal Spirit, oldest of all spirit beings, a soul so ancient it had existed since the first mortal died and passed into the Spirit Realm.
"IT has chosen to walk in veiled form," Valdris said. "To be unknown. We will honor that choice."
"But surely we should greet IT! Pay homage!"
"IT does not need our homage," Valdris replied. "IT needs nothing. IT is Supreme. Above all. Beyond all. Even the Primordials, ancient as they are, are nothing compared to IT. We exist because IT wills us to exist. Do you understand?"
The spirits fell silent.
"We watch," Valdris continued. "We wait. And if IT calls upon us, then we answer. Not before."
But despite his words, even Valdris couldn't help the tremor of awe and fear that ran through his spectral form.
God was walking the world.
And none of them knew what it meant.
[Back in Lumeria - Evening]
As the sun set over Lumeria, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Aldric found HIMSELF standing before the Grand Academy.
Seven towers rose into the sky, each one dedicated to a different school of magic. The central tower, tallest of all, was carved from pure white marble and topped with a crystal that caught the dying light and scattered it into rainbows.
Students in robes of various colors walked through the main gates, chatting and laughing. Some carried books thick as bricks. Others had familiars—small magical creatures—perched on their shoulders.
This was where humanity came to learn magic. To master the gift IT had given them.
HE wanted to see it from the inside.
"Excuse me," a voice called. "Are you lost?"
Aldric turned. A young woman stood there, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with auburn hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She wore the blue robes of an Arcane Magic student, and her amber eyes regarded HIM with friendly curiosity.
"I'm looking to enroll," HE said.
Her eyes widened. "Enroll? But registration ended last week! The entrance examinations are tomorrow morning."
"I'm aware."
She studied HIM for a moment, then sighed. "You're one of those late arrivals, aren't you? Well, if you hurry, you might be able to get a last-minute registration with the admissions office. It's in the central tower, third floor. But fair warning—they're strict about the rules."
"Thank you," Aldric said. "What's your name?"
"Sera," she replied. "Sera Ashford. Second-year Arcane specialization."
"A pleasure to meet you, Sera Ashford." HE smiled, and for just a moment, she felt inexplicably warm, like she'd been wrapped in sunshine. "I'm Aldric."
"Well, good luck, Aldric. The entrance exam is brutal. They say only one in twenty applicants pass."
"I'll manage," HE said with quiet confidence.
As HE walked toward the tower, Sera watched HIM go, a strange feeling in her chest. There was something about him. Something she couldn't quite name.
Like standing near a bonfire but not seeing the flames.
Like the world was slightly brighter where he stood.
She shook her head. Too much studying, she thought. I'm seeing things that aren't there.
But she was wrong.
She was seeing exactly what was there.
She just didn't have the words to understand it.
Inside the Academy's administrative office, a tired-looking clerk named Edmund was preparing to close up for the evening when the door opened.
"We're closed—" he began, then stopped.
A young man with dark hair and impossibly green eyes stood in the doorway.
"I'd like to register for the entrance examination," the young man said.
"Registration ended last week," Edmund replied automatically. "You'll have to wait until next year."
"I'd like to register for the entrance examination," the young man repeated, his voice unchanged. Gentle. Warm. Completely casual.
But something in Edmund's mind shifted.
Suddenly, it seemed like the most reasonable thing in the world to make an exception. In fact, it seemed wrong not to. Like the universe itself would be disappointed in him if he refused.
"Of... of course," Edmund heard himself say, pulling out the registration forms. "Just fill these out. Name, magical affinity if known, previous training..."
As Aldric filled out the forms, Edmund couldn't shake the feeling that he was processing paperwork for someone far more important than any student had a right to be.
But that was ridiculous.
He was just a boy.
Just a late applicant.
Nothing special at all.
[That Night - Various Locations]
In the royal palace, King Aldren Astoria woke from a dream he couldn't remember, certain that something profound had happened.
In the Elven citadels, the Ascendants felt a disturbance in the Weave but couldn't identify its source.
In the dwarven strongholds, master smiths found their forges burning hotter and their metals shaping easier, and wondered why.
In the Savage Reaches, beastkin shamans reported seeing ancestor spirits acting strangely in the Spirit Realm.
And in the depths of dragon lairs across the world, ancient wyrms lay awake, watching through mystical sight as a dark-haired young man settled into a small inn room in Lumeria, looking perfectly ordinary.
Perfectly harmless.
Perfectly human.
But they knew better.
They knew what HE was.
IT was here.
IT was Supreme.
IT was Absolute.
And IT had come to walk among ITS beloved humans.
The question none of them could answer was: Why?
And perhaps more importantly: What happens when the other races discover the truth?