Michael S.

“Khepri’s body began to rise into the air, gliding smoothly through the void until he hovered above the bubbling red pool, still frozen in his seated position.
“This should be close enough,” The Fabricator remarked. “Speak now, my son.”

“You are not dead, my lord. You are very much alive,” Khepri repeated, now sitting in midair as if an invisible throne cradled him. His green-scaled body remained perfectly poised, his back leaning against nothingness while his legs dangled below.

“Death signifies the end of something—a star, a living being. When they die, they cease to exist.” The Fabricator studied his chain armor, then dusted it off with a swift clap against his chest. “There was a time when I did not exist. In fact, everything once had a time of nonexistence. Does that mean existence itself was once dead?”

“No,” Khepri replied, his voice cautious. “They were not dead, merely in another form. The living transform upon death—atoms drifting as dust, molecules roaming the cosmos, slipping between realms we do not yet comprehend. Even stars… they become something new when their energy is spent.”
― Michael S. F