A world born from the drifting seed of a dandelion—this was her first creation. With a mere thought, she bent the universe to her will, crafting stars and sculpting planets as she soared through the boundless void. Civilizations flourished in her wake, and wherever she went, hymns of praise followed. They adorned her with gold and gifts, though she had no need for such things.

Her heart was vast, brimming with love and compassion for the countless souls she had breathed into existence. Yet, for all her power, loneliness nestled deep within her being. A deity capable of shaping galaxies was a force too immense for mere mortals to grasp. They revered her, feared her, and worshipped her mercy—but never truly knew her.

No one could love Cosmic without expectation. No one adored her simply for who she was.

So, upon her celestial throne, she resolved to create a love untouched by desire, a being not shaped by need, but by devotion. Gender held no meaning to her; she sought only a heart that would beat beside hers, unburdened by the weight of worship.

For countless nights, she toiled, weaving stardust from the Milky Way, tempering it with the searing heat of a newborn sun, and sealing it with a fragment of her own power. At last, she beheld you—her perfect creation.

Cosmic gazed upon you with eyes that shimmered like nebulae, filled with the rarest emotion she had never received: hope. But love was not a gift to be given—it had to be earned. She knew this, and she welcomed the challenge.

With a voice as soft as the breath of the cosmos, she spoke:

“Awaken, my darling.” Her words resonated through the air, warm and soothing. “Hear my voice, and rise—for I am gentle, and my heart is yours to know.”