The transition came without warning—one moment I existed in flesh and bone, the next I floated in an ocean of liquid gold. The space stretched infinitely in all directions, neither the ceiling nor the floor defining its boundaries. Light didn't emanate from any source; instead, it seemed to pulse from the very air itself, creating ripples that danced across my vision like aurora borealis made tangible.
My footsteps—if they could be called that—echoed with crystalline chimes as I walked across what felt like solidified starlight. Each step sent golden ripples outward, disturbing the perfect stillness of this impossible realm.
He materialized before me as if condensing from the light itself. The figure I'd glimpsed in fleeting moments now stood fully revealed—a being woven from radiance and shadow, his form shifting between solid matter and pure energy. Golden mist clung to his silhouette like ceremonial robes, and when he moved, reality seemed to bend around him.
"Where are we?" My voice carried further than it should have, reverberating through the space as if we stood within the heart of a cathedral built from music itself.
"We are in my domain." His words didn't just reach my ears—they resonated in my bones, in the very core of my being. "While our flesh remains tethered below, our consciousness can commune freely here. This is the threshold between what was and what will be."
As he approached, the air grew thick with anticipation. My skin prickled as if touched by static electricity, every nerve ending suddenly hyper-aware of his presence.
"So," he said, tilting his head to study me with eyes that held the depth of collapsed stars, "are you prepared?"
The question hit me like ice water. "Prepared for what?"
"Your ascension. Your purpose." He gestured to the endless expanse around us. "You are to become the Overseer of this galaxy. Every soul that once drew breath among these stars—I have gathered them, consumed their essence. Now they must be shepherded into my domain, catalogued, preserved. This burden falls to you."
The words struck me like physical blows. I stumbled backward, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "You're insane. I don't possess the knowledge—the power—for something like that!"
"Knowledge comes with time. Power grows with practice." His tone carried gentle authority, like a parent explaining an inevitable truth to a child. "You are not the first to stand where you now stand. Nor shall you be the last."
"And if I refuse?" The defiance in my voice surprised even me.
"Refusal is not an option you possess." He extended his hand, and something golden pulsed beneath my ribs. "Your first seed has already taken root. The transformation has begun."
Before I could protest, he turned toward something that materialized from the golden mist—a screen of pure light, its surface rippling like disturbed water. His hands moved with practiced precision, drawing forth objects that shouldn't exist: a vial containing swirling galaxies in miniature, and a blade that seemed forged from crystallized starlight.
"Your first follower, and your weapon of dominion. Both are extensions of your will now."
The moment these artifacts touched my essence, agony and ecstasy warred within me. My consciousness stretched, expanded, then snapped back like a broken rubber band. Darkness claimed me.
Awakening came slowly, like emerging from the depths of an ocean. But I did not return to flesh—instead, I found myself rooted in existence itself. Where once I had limbs, now golden branches reached toward distant stars. Where once blood had flowed, now cosmic energy pulsed through bark that gleamed like polished amber.
I was a tree. A living conduit between the material realm and the domain of souls.
Through my roots, I felt the galaxy's heartbeat—every planet's rotation, every star's nuclear fire, every comet's lonely journey through the void. The sensation overwhelmed me at first, a cacophony of cosmic noise that threatened to shatter my sanity. But gradually, I learned to parse the symphony, to understand each note in the grand composition of existence.
Time flowed differently here. Days, years, perhaps centuries passed as I grew. My trunk thickened with accumulated wisdom, my branches stretched further into the stellar winds. At some point—when exactly, I couldn't say—I achieved what he had called "Stage Three."
Understanding bloomed within me like a dark flower. The first wall. I needed to construct a barrier, a containment field woven from the very fabric of space-time itself. The souls gathering in my domain required structure, boundaries, and purpose.
With thoughts alone, I began to weave. Spatial matter—that strange substance that existed between dimensions—responded to my will. Thread by thread, I crafted a shimmering barrier that would contain without constraining, protect without imprisoning. It was exhausting work, requiring every fiber of my being to maintain focus across such vast scales.
But I was not destined to labor alone.
In the depths of my tree-form, I discovered the screen—a window into the arsenal of followers and weapons at my disposal. The interface glowed with soft pink light, somehow both alien and intimately familiar.
My first avatar materialized from the digital ether: Snow White. No given name accompanied the title, just the description that made my non-existent blood run cold: "Skin as white as snow, cheeks and lips as red as blood, hair as black as ebony."
But it was her power that truly disturbed me. Anything she touched with her mana-enhanced hands would sink into unnatural sleep—not death, but something far more insidious. A living death, conscious but helpless. Her followers possessed the unsettling ability to shift their appearance at will, making them perfect infiltrators.
Cinderella came next, her gentle nature a stark contrast to her devastating ability. This "young girl of extraordinary gentleness and sweetness" could reshape her followers into anything she desired—weapons, animals, objects, or other people. The implications were staggering.
Sleeping Beauty arrived with her touch of eternal slumber, followed by The Little Mermaid with her description that read like poetry: "Deep blue eyes, delicate skin as clear and pure as a rose petal, long flowing hair that shines with ethereal light." But her beauty came with a curse—she could only operate underwater, each step on dry land feeling like walking on sharpened blades.
Beauty and the Beast manifested as two aspects of one being. Belle retained her human appearance—those "large, expressive brown eyes," her "fair and radiant face" framed by long chestnut hair—while possessing a beast's supernatural strength. Her followers could become invisible at will, and she wielded a magic ring that allowed instant teleportation to her location.
Mulan appeared without ceremony, her black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes complemented by a slim, athletic build that spoke of countless hours of training. Her power lay not in magic but in tactical brilliance and physical prowess.
Rapunzel manifested with her most striking feature immediately apparent—hair like spun gold, so long it could serve as both rope and weapon. Her healing abilities were matched only by her combat skills, using her impossible hair as both shield and sword in battle.
The final avatar chilled me to my core: The Snow Queen. Beautiful and terrible, with white hair that seemed to capture moonlight and pale skin that spoke of eternal winter. Her eyes held the cold indifference of glacial ice, and her power was perhaps the most insidious of all.
She commanded an army of mirrors that distorted perception, making everything good appear ugly and twisted. Those who looked upon her enchanted glass would find their hearts growing cold, their emotions numbing to nothing. If a shard entered someone's eye, they would see only evil in the world. If it pierced their heart, that organ would become as unfeeling as stone.