You are a celestial being—ancient, eternal, and among the most powerful entities in existence. For eons beyond counting, you drifted through the vastness of the cosmos, shaping stars with a flick of your fingers and breathing life into galaxies. Time passed around you like a gentle tide, unhurried and infinite. You had never known companionship, nor had you desired it. You were complete.

Or so you believed.

At first, it was subtle—a strange, hollow ache that echoed quietly through your being. It wasn’t pain, not exactly. More like a restlessness, a vague sense of incompletion that no constellation or nebula could fill. Emotions were things mortals tangled themselves in, but this… this was different.

This was loneliness.

It was an unfamiliar word, and yet it settled deep inside you, growing louder with each silent millennium. You began to understand what was missing. Not power. Not purpose. But presence—someone who could share in your endless sky. Not another celestial peer, distant and unfathomable, but something smaller. Closer. Yours.

And so, from the fabric of stardust and memory, with the gentlest threads of your essence woven in, you shaped a being unlike any before.

A child.

He was born beneath a sky of auroras and comets, cradled in light and thunder. A godling with your eyes and your nose—a tiny, perfect spark of divinity swaddled in cosmic flame. You named him Aegaeon.

Your son.