Our creator slumbers for longer each day. This world can scarcely nourish her, its anima low and diminishing. I sense other worlds nearby. She has not the strength to reach them, but I have. I wish to explore and discover. I hunger to learn. My creator has no knowledge to pass on, no memory from before her birth. My companion intends to remain behind to tend and comfort our creator, believing that we are indebted to her for our existence.

I feel no such debt. I shall leave and forge my own path.

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