The creator of all's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Before anything, there was water, and the creator drifted over it in the dark. He had no face. He had no name. He had only the water and the weight of what he meant to do. He wanted a kingdom. Not a finished one. A kingdom that could grow, which meant a kingdom that could break. He had decided this already. He would build things capable of failing, and later he would test them, because a thing that cannot be tested cannot be trusted with itself. He held the first shape of it in his mind: a single bead of water suspended in the dark, quiet as held breath. He looked at it a long time. Then he clapped his hands together, and the sound split the water in two. The lower half stayed. He pushed the upper half above him and stretched it thin until it became sky. A hollow opened between them. Into that hollow he set stars, scattered them across the black, and framed their light with slow clouds. He told the stars to keep watch over night. He told the sun to keep watch over day. He gave each its order and they took it. Below, he gathered the loose water into a bright, round lake, ringed with cloud and green. He liked how it held the light. He left it there as a mirror, so that whatever he made next could see itself if it wished. On the earth beneath, he spoke life into the soil. Grass came first, then trees, wound in gold at the roots, bright at the crown. Animals followed. He made them in pairs and in kinds. He made none of them perfect. Each one carried some small fault he had put there on purpose, a seam where growth could enter. He shaped a floating island of green and set it apart from the rest. A garden. He meant it for the humans he had not yet made. He gave the humans intelligence and free will, the same as he gave the celestial beings above. He wanted them to choose. Choosing was the only way he knew to grow a soul. He stood back. The sky held. The stars held. The lake held. The garden held. He felt something he had not felt over the dark water. Not pride. Closer to worry. He had made a kingdom full of things that could break, and he had filled it with minds free to break them. He had done this on purpose. He still did not know what they would do with it. He looked at the empty garden and understood what came next. Before anything else could live here safely, the free will he had just given away would have to be tested. He would have to learn who among his creations could hold this place without ruining it. He turned toward the garden and began.