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A blink and the eyes had opened. There was no ceremony, no grand entrance, no amazing foreshadowing to this moment, just a blink and then suddenly the eyes had opened. As in sleep, you can never tell when you exactly started it, and sometimes it is equally hard to determine when you stopped. 

A figure hidden in the dark briefly mulled this over, his birthplace compromised. The flashes of light around him burned his newborn eyes, and the sounds threatened to shatter his fresh ears, not to mention the smells. Despite his distaste, a never ending smile strained across his bizarre face, from eye to eye. His stomach rumbled, hidden away by the wreathing darkness. He was not hungry, and yet he felt an emptiness inside his stomach. Slowly it spread to his chest, and even out to his limbs. It tickled his skin and burned his mind, he was starving, but for what? Purpose. Immediately he felt the implications of his life, and even upon hearing the words of motivation of a great cyclops that had sat in front of him, he felt ever the empty. 

Perhaps his great mistake was not being born a baby, who is blessed with the ability to ease into life, and better yet forget its beginning. Either way, the newborn was presented with a unique chance, and his pained stomach ushered him forward. The others seemed to fade from his peripheral as he walked up to the great cyclops. To him, the room was as empty as he was. In his mind the cacophony of echoes that had previously reigned supreme over the room scattered, and all that was left was a disembodied voice echoing from some unseen place.

“Did you create me?” The voice asked. The words floated with a childish innocence between the ever-smiling man and the mighty sitting cyclops, like peon to king, or son to father.

No sooner had the Architect’s face began to angle impassively away from Seihdhara before it was suddenly wrenched to glare straight at another--this time, another fiery figure. The bellowing Sartravius demanded his question, but just as a father might look down at a raging and petulant child as they shout and tantrum, the Architect remained cool and silent with an almost insulting level of calm. When Ashalla spoke her wisdom, having seemingly taken better than Sartravius to the purpose and information that he had tried to imprint upon them all, the Architect reaffirmed her sentiment by pointing one bony finger towards the rising crystals. The gesture was answer enough to the fir god’s demand--it told him to do exactly as his desired commanded him. To [i]leave[/i] and wreak havoc elsewhere.

Though his attention had clearly been elsewhere, the eye still seemed to peer directly at K’nell as the nascent god stumbled forward. The ancient’s singular eye was large enough to look right at everything and everyone at once.

The depth and implication of K’nell’s inquiry left the Architect, however steeped in wisdom, contemplating for a moment how to even answer such a thing. [color=lightblue][b]”I shaped all of you. I brought you here and gave you purpose and form, whereas before you were hollow echoes, or dead souls, or motes of emptiness. In exchange for these gifts, I expect loyalty.”[/b][/color]

K’nell seemed to quietly soak in the information. Despite the silence he felt his thoughts echoing off the stony walls until finally they formed another sentence, spoken once more out of innocence, “What is my purpose?”

The question seemed to irritate the Architect. For all of his age and measured words, his patience was clearly short.

[color=lightblue][b]”I have already given you your purpose, and you know [i]exactly[/i] what it is. Search your feelings; you know this to be true.”[/b][/color]

A pang resounded in the empty pit that festered inside of K’nell. Despite his permanent smile, begging eyes looked up at the Architect with one final question, “Is.” The word bounced off the water, “is there nothing more?”

A silent eye was the only answer. K’nell tried to search its depths, but there was nothing in it to be seen. The meaning was as empty as himself, and for the first time since his recent conception, he wished he could frown.

Struck with a crisis, K’nell made his way away from his creator and to one of the many crystals. Gently he placed a defeated hand on the crystal.

[Hider=summary]

K'nell learns the truth, survives an encounter with Darth Vader, and is about to leave for good. 

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