I remember the first time I opened my eyes to creation. The stars were young then and I was still starving, not that it has changed. Only the abundance of my food does.

  Eons have passed since that moment, yet I remain, one of the few who remembers the silence before sound, the stillness before time. I am not what I once was. I am older now. Able to control the hunger. Able to command this tardiness of mine.

  This newly born cluster was different.

  I opened my eyes to the Void-that-is-not-empty, standing once more at the edge of Existence. Ten of them stood before me, raw and radiant, flickering like new flames trying to find their shape. I could feel their gazes poking through my supposed-to-be-skin.

  I looked down, to the world above... or below. Even Gods can be unsure of the dimension, no? Well, it matters no more. I looked at this newly discovered world still untouched by godly hands. Its rivers had never known prayer. Its winds had never carried the scent of incense. A perfect crib, I say.

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  "You are one of the Elder Gods and it's your turn for the 'baby sitting.' Follow the ancient agreement, and all will be well.

  Remember, A??????????????????????????????????????????k??????????????????????????e??????????????????????????????d???????????????????????????????i??????????????????????????????????????????????a??????????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????????????t??????????????????????????????????????????????o????????????????????????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????????P?????????????????????????????h????????????????a?????????????????????????????????????????????????g????????????????????????????????????????o??????????????????????? , stick to the agreement."

  I said it aloud, more for myself than for anyone else. A reminder. A role I had accepted long ago, though not without reluctance.

  Then I spoke to them, the fledglings.

  "This world shall be your den for the next century. Until then, grow."

  And with a thought, I descended them. No, I sent them into the mortal realm above. They fell upside-down like stars returning to the soil.

  I watched them fall. Some screamed, some were silent, and others clutched inward as if to preserve themselves. They would not remember this moment clearly, or do they? No matter, it would later echo within them whether they want to or not. It would shape them.

  A smile touched my lips. Not cruel, not warm, just old. The kind of smile only memory allows.

  They would suffer. They would learn. Some would rise. Others would break. But all would change.

  And when the century passed, and they will climb back to meet my eyes again. Only then I would decide if they were worthy to stand among us. But not yet.

  Now, this world was theirs and all I would be is a facilitator.