In the forest where it all began, the man stood motionless.
Around him, life pulsed with unnatural vigor. Insects, large and luminous, glided through the trees, their bodies lit with radiant bioluminescence. The foliage glowed faintly, leaves shining with emerald fire. Mushrooms the size of wolves had burst from the ground, their stalks reaching for the canopy. Vines thick as rope coiled around trees that had grown dozens of meters taller in mere minutes.
The sky shimmered. The stars dimmed—overshadowed by Earth's sudden glory.
He looked up and saw the original moon, now accompanied by three others, shining like silent sentinels. He felt it then: a surge of something ancient. Raw. A current of energy thicker than magic, deeper than time. It coursed through the ground, through the trees, through his blood.
Hazmun hovered beside him, observing quietly.
Then, with a slow turn of his head, he spoke in that deep, echoing voice—timeless, calm, and commanding:
"Your first wish has taken hold."
A pause, heavy with meaning.
"What… will be your second?"
As the man in the forest turned his head to face Hazmun once more, a voice brushed against his ear—soft, trembling, yet ancient.
It was a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. From the roots beneath his feet, the leaves above his head, and the very wind curling through the trees.
It asked, with fear and awe tangled in its breath:
"What… have you done?"
The man stiffened.
Hazmun's eyes narrowed. He raised a hand with casual irritation and flicked his fingers through the air.
In an instant, the clearing brightened—and a figure took shape before them.
A woman emerged from the light.
She wore a flowing gown woven from living fibers—leaves, moss, petals, and vines, all shifting subtly as if breathing with her. Her skin was deep and earthen, dark as fertile soil. Her hair cascaded to her feet in waves of rich, tangled brown, and her eyes—glowing blue like glacial springs—stared at Hazmun with a look of ancient dread.
Majestic. Timeless. Terrified.
She raised her hand, trembling, preparing a spell of protection or wrath—no one could be certain.
But Hazmun spoke first, voice thunderous with disdain.
"Do not interfere, spirit of Earth."
The authority in his voice shattered the moment like glass. The energy gathering in her hand fizzled and died. Her shoulders slumped, and she dropped to her knees. Then, slowly, reverently, she bowed forward, pressing her forehead to the ground in surrender.
"Your Majesty," she said, her voice trembling, "I beg you—allow me a moment. Let me speak to the one who made the wish. Just one word. Please."
Hazmun turned his head toward the man. His expression was unreadable—perhaps curious, perhaps bored. But he gave a slight nod, silently offering the choice to him.
The man swallowed and nodded.
Hazmun stepped aside.
The spirit of Earth stood—regal even in her humility—and turned to face the man. Her voice was gentle, but beneath it flowed unimaginable depth, like tectonic plates moving under calm seas.
"I am Gaia," she said. "To some, I am Mother Nature. To others, the Earth Goddess, the World Soul, the First Breath. I am all of these… and more. I am the spirit of this planet—the pulse in its stone, the blood in its rivers, the whisper in its winds."
She paused, letting the words settle like dust on the air.
"I was born with this world. And I will die with it."
Her gaze deepened, piercing and mournful.
"I am the mother of all life that crawls, swims, flies, or thinks. I exist for them, and them alone. Their well-being is my purpose, my duty, my devotion."
A silence followed—heavy with emotion.
Then she bowed her head slightly.
"So I beg you, child of Earth: let your wishes be kind. Do not bring ruin to the world that bore you."
The man, heart pounding with the gravity of what he had done and what lay before him, gave her a solemn nod.
Gaia's face softened. A burden seemed to lift from her shoulders. Her voice, now lighter, whispered:
"Thank you."
She stepped back, dissolving into motes of green light that scattered into the wind, returning to the world she loved.
Hazmun, silent throughout, now turned his gaze back to the man.
"What will be your second wish, young man?" he asked, though something had changed in his tone—less grand, more cautious.
The man breathed in deeply, feeling the immensity of the moment. He looked at Hazmun, this god-like being who could bend the laws of reality, and he spoke with clarity:
"Hazmun, I wish for you to protect this universe… until the very end of it."
The forest fell into a stillness deeper than silence.
Even the wind, which had danced through the trees since time immemorial, paused—as if the entire world held its breath.
Hazmun's expression faltered.
His radiant form shimmered unevenly, the outlines of his spectral body wavering. Cracks of pure energy briefly flickered across his chest like lightning under skin, betraying the strain of the wish. The words lingered in the air, echoing not with sound, but with power—as though reality itself needed time to absorb what had been spoken.
He looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line.
In all his bindings, in all the timelines and dimensions he had wandered… not once had a master dared to utter such a command.
Not domination. Not immortality.
But eternal duty.
A wish not for personal gain, but for the preservation of all things.
A sentence to timeless service.
A prison called eternity.
And yet, a subtle glimmer of respect passed through his ancient eyes.
At last, after a long and sacred silence, Hazmun spoke.
His voice, once booming and imperious, was now subdued—measured—weighted with resignation and pride:
"Your wish…" he said slowly, as if tasting the cost of it, "…is my command."
A great wind rose.
It came not from the earth or sky, but from nowhere—and everywhere. The trees swayed in reverence, their branches rustling like hands offering prayer. The earth hummed, and even the stars above seemed to pulse in time with the moment.
Hazmun raised his arm slowly.
A swirl of winds, shimmering auras, strands of energy, and luminescent particles gathered around him—light and matter dancing together in perfect harmony. The energies formed into visible rings, orbiting his body in widening arcs. The very air was heavy with divine motion.
Then, in one fluid motion, Hazmun lifted both arms and cast the gathered power toward the heavens.
A towering pillar of green light exploded upward, bursting through the clouds, piercing the night sky like a lance through the fabric of the universe. As the beam soared higher, Hazmun's body began to disintegrate—softly, like leaves falling into starlight. His form merged with the light, scattering across the dimensions he was now bound to guard.
A faint tremble rumbled through the forest floor.
And in the next breath—he was gone.
No word. No farewell.
Only silence, and the lingering warmth of something divine.
Far beyond the stars, something ancient stirred.
The universe rippled, as if something vast had stretched itself across its surface. The night deepened; the stars lost a fraction of their luster. An unseen veil had fallen—Hazmun's essence, now draped over the cosmos, hidden from the watchful eyes of greater powers, ancient timelines, and godlike forces.
He had become the unseen guardian—an eternal shadow behind creation.