You'd think creating a world would make you feel proud.
But honestly… it was exhausting.
Twenty thousand years of sculpting mountains, filling seas, balancing species, forging laws of reality all because I wanted to see what would happen if I tried playing god.
And when I finally finished, when every continent was perfect and every sunbeam hit exactly where I wanted it to, I did what any sane god would do.
I slept.
Not for a year.
Not for a century.
But for a million years.
Because why not? The world was built. The stars turned on schedule. The oceans didn't explode.
I figured, "Yeah. That's good enough."
Turns out, when you nap for that long, people… forget you exist.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't greeted by prayers or hymns or temples carved in my name.
No.
I woke to silence to a world that had erased me from its story.
And honestly?
I loved it.
Aetherion.
That's what I called this world. The name felt divine at the time soft, celestial, like a sigh between the stars.
Now? It was just dirt, sky, and billions of noisy mortals who thought they made it all.
I stood in the ruins of what used to be my first temple. It was half buried under vines. Statues of gods I created gods who used to kneel before me were cracked and faceless. Their names were still worshiped. Mine wasn't.
Even the air didn't remember my presence.
Perfect.
"Aetherion… you've grown without me,"
I murmured, brushing dust off my sleeve.
"Let's see what kind of mess you've become."
I stepped outside the ruin, and the world hit me all at once.
Cities. Towering things of steel and light.
Machines that screamed down black stone roads.
Voices in the air not prayers, but chatter through tiny glass devices.
Humans had advanced.
Elves had urbanized.
Beasts and demons lived among them under laws I never wrote.
It was chaos. Brilliant, beautiful chaos.
Of course, I couldn't just walk into this new world looking like… well, me.
No records, no identity, no history that's suspicious, even for a god.
So I decided to start over.
Completely.
I raised my hand, bent time around me, and reshaped my body like folding light. My robes dissolved, height shrank, bones softened.
And when the light faded, I wasn't Vareth, the Flame Beyond Memory.
I was a child.
Barely a few months old.
I left myself in a quiet street corner, wrapped in cloth, and let out the most convincing wail the world had ever heard.
Someone screamed, "A baby! Someone left a baby here!"
And that's how the god who once built mountains was carried off by mortal hands straight into a foster system that thought I was just another abandoned kid.
Five years later, I was living in a small orphanage called Starlit Haven.
Funny name for a place that couldn't even pay its light bill.
The caretakers called me Jack.
It was simple. Forgettable. Perfect.
I kept to myself mostly. Humans liked noise, and I liked peace we were incompatible by design.
But there was one place in that creaky old house that made my eternity worth something the library.
A small room. Dusty shelves.
Books no one touched.
History texts, world records, ancient myths.
I read them all.
Every single one.
And as I pieced the world's history together, the truth hit me.
Aetherion hadn't just forgotten me it had replaced me.
For nearly two thousand years, the world had drowned in war.
Humans against demons.
Elves against dwarves.
Beasts against everyone.
Empires rose, burned, rebuilt, and fell again. The same cycle, over and over.
I flipped through a map in one of the books borders drawn, erased, redrawn again. The paper itself was torn, as if even history got tired of the repetition.
I stared at it for a long time before whispering,
"So this is what became of my world… Endless fighting. Endless death."
Outside, the other kids were laughing. Running. Throwing paper planes.
I didn't join them.
They were too loud.
Too human.
Still… I smiled.
"If war is the way of this world now," I murmured,
"then I'll grow inside it. Let's see what becomes of me."
One afternoon, the foster mother Mrs. Elna called out,
"Jack! You're old enough to start school. Fill out this form for me."
I sat at the desk, staring at the paper.
Name.
Age.
Parents.
Place of birth.
The first three were easy.
The last one… well, technically "Beyond the edge of time" didn't sound very believable.
So I wrote "Unknown."
Then, with the faintest grin, I signed my name at the bottom.
Jack.
The pen felt heavy in my hand strange, considering it had once held the weight of stars.
"The god who built the world," I thought,
"is now signing up for elementary school."
And so, I went.
The first day was… loud.
Children screaming, teachers shouting, papers flying.
Humans were good at chaos. It's their only divine trait.
Still, I blended in.
I sat in the back, watched, learned.
I aced every test.
Finished every assignment before it was given.
But not because I cared, I was just curious how humans measured intelligence now.
By the end of the year, teachers whispered that I was a prodigy.
I didn't correct them.
At night, when the dorm lights dimmed and silence finally returned, I'd lie there staring at the ceiling wondering how long it would take before this world realized who I was.
Maybe never.
Maybe soon.
Either way… I wasn't in a rush.
I'd seen eternity.
Time meant nothing.
Mortals were entertainment.
And for now, I was content to watch Aetherion spin unaware that their creator was sitting quietly among them, pretending to be one of their own.
"Wake up, Jack!"
Mrs. Elna's voice echoed through the door.
"You'll be late for school!"
I smirked under the blanket.
"Right… school."
I stretched, feeling time ripple faintly through the air clocks paused, a bird outside froze mid flap.
I got dressed leisurely, then let time resume.
Outside, the morning sun painted Aetherion gold.
And for the first time in a million years… I felt curious again.
"Let's see what humans have become," I whispered.
"Entertain me."
And with that, the god who once ruled the stars walked out to attend his first day of school.
[End of Chapter 1| The Forgotten Flame]