Mist thinned, not all at once, but in layers, as though something vast were being gently dismissed, having decided it had made its point.

  Shapes emerged where there had only been suggestion. Space asserted itself. Not a place, not yet, but a held expanse, orderly in the way of things that did not require walls to remain where they were. The last of the haze drifted downward and dispersed, leaving the air clear and still, as if it had always been that way and the mist had merely been a temporary misunderstanding.

  At its centre sat a girl.

  She was not arranged for ceremony this time. No robe heavy with implication, no effort to look the part. She lounged instead, legs drawn up beneath her, bare feet idly suspended over nothing at all, which obligingly continued to support them. The fabric she wore was simple and loose. A large cartoon cat decorated her oversized top, paired with a white skirt that drifted in a breeze that seemed to exist only when observed. The hem lifted and settled again, never quite touching anything, apparently out of habit.

  Light gathered around her hands, breaking into slow-moving panes and drifting symbols, patterns unfolding and collapsing as her attention passed over them. Information, reviewed without urgency. A habit, not a task. The panes slid past one another with faint, dry clicks, as though they preferred to keep out of each other’s way.

  She leaned back slightly, expression thoughtful rather than solemn, and flicked one of the glowing constructs aside, as though clearing space on a cluttered desk. It drifted away and dissolved without resistance, clearly aware that it was no longer required.

  Only then did she pause.

  “I wonder how the hero is doing?” she said aloud, looking at nothing at all, which listened politely.

  The man she had sent to her world was strange, but they always were, in their own way. She smiled to herself. She had built the world as a playground. Multiple races, magic, a demon king. Everything needed for a proper hero’s journey, assembled with the confidence of someone who had read many stories before and rarely been surprised.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  She took a moment to imagine the excitement, the growth. She sighed, thinking of the hero swooning over a princess, which usually happened sooner or later, sometimes sooner. Hopefully sooner.

  Still, he really was weird.

  “He must be throwing really wild parties by now,” she said, tapping a finger against her chin. The light near her hand rippled outward at the contact, then steadied again, as though deciding not to make a fuss about it.

  His power over yeast would allow him to make high-quality alcohol. She tried to picture him as the life of the party, people fawning over him, but the image did not quite settle.

  “Maybe I’ll just take a peek,” she said, nodding to herself. Just to make sure he was safe, and all that, which was what one told oneself when curiosity needed a respectable excuse.

  A large window appeared before her, fully three-dimensional. Its edges firmed into place, and the surrounding space dimmed slightly, as though making room and hoping not to be disturbed.

  A man lay on a packed earth floor.

  He cursed at a nearby barrel. Lifting a copper pipe, he tested it against a hole, then pulled it free and reached for another tool. The barrel rocked faintly under his touch before settling back into the dirt, having clearly been blamed for enough today.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a damned drill.”

  He glared at the floor, which accepted this without comment.

  The goddess of creation paused, rewatching the scene as it unfolded.

  She watched a moment longer, then another.

  This was not what she had expected.

  He worked within what he had. Measured. Adjusted. Accepted resistance as part of the problem rather than an insult to be corrected, which was not how this usually went.

  That, more than the task itself, unsettled her.

  He was a complication.

  She let the image fade.

  The noise cut off first, then the shape of the place, until only the sense of him remained, and then not even that. The window’s surface dulled and thinned, retreating back into the surrounding space until it was gone. The space around her settled back into its earlier stillness, patient as ever, and faintly pleased to be tidy again.

  She did not reach back. She did not adjust anything. Whatever he lacked, he would continue to lack it.

  For now.

  “That’s new,” she said to no one in particular, shifting her weight as her attention drifted elsewhere. “We’ll see what you do with it.”

  Not now. Not yet.

  Later.