She stands in the dark, in nothing but a void and quiet, and closes her eyes. Beneath her, she wills there to be a solid floor, of wood and nails, curving around her into a bow. She is on a ship, a tall strapping vessel. One that creates itself as she wills it, the ship drifts in nothing. A seaworthy craft lacking only a sea.
Now she imagines a torrent, water and its unfathomable depths, atop which her ship gently rocks. She imagines a calm day, opens her eyes and it is so. Ocean and sky and sun stretching as far as her eye can see. She wills the ship forward, and a wind blows, billowing the sails on the mast that, until a second ago, did not exist. And it moves, slowly at first, then picking up pace, towards the horizon. She luxuriates at the wheel, this captain of a heretofore unmade ship on a heretofore unborn sea and enjoys the spray of the sea on her face, the wind whipping her hair around her head, a brunette halo.
Now all I need is a destination.
She conjures a land, a vast land, and peoples it with eccentricities, with creatures only one who has languished in the dark for an endless age could imagine. Frightful beasts capable of great violence, but also compassion, of cruelty but also love. She imagines the millennia of struggle they will suffer in the name of bettering themselves, a futile quest as each generation follows the prior to the grave, little wiser than when they came. She points her ship towards that land, quieting the wind so she will glide there slowly, determined to pronounce judgement on her creations when she arrives.
But she is in no hurry.
She closes her eyes again, and imagines a map. A map of her newborn world. Words are written across this land she has just made.
“Here there be monsters.”