Deep within the farthest reaches of infinite space, a massive binary system sat within a vast stretch of darkness, the only two stars that remained of the galaxy that had fueled their incredible growth.

One was black as the surrounding area, one a white, shining sun. Their bodies had been warped by the peculiar laws of gravity that dominated the dual orbit, both susceptible to the push and pull of the other. Each had a massive tail of blazing energy that trailed behind the source bodies as they wound around one another like the ghost of a single gigantic star.

The forces of gravity were strongest at the system's centre, where enough pressure existed to cause most ordinary stars to collapse. Oddly enough, a great island floated calmly within this area, unaffected by the region's violent gravitational forces.

Clouds floated about in a contained atmosphere, the mass covered by countless lakes, seas, rivers and mountains. The bottom was cold and bare despite being situated at the centre of such a ferocious dual orbit, as if an entire continent had been ripped from a rocky planet and perfectly preserved in this secluded, implausible spot.

A beautiful house sat within a courtyard atop the peak of the landmass's highest mountain, which was covered in the whitest, softest snow. The courtyard was paved with an azure, jade-like mineral, the house made from a type of stone that was a brighter shade of blue than the pavement.

The courtyard was surrounded by a vast network of various gardens, all of which were indescribably beautiful and gave off the most dazzling auras that any sentient plants might hope to achieve.

Standing silently in the 109th garden of his heavenly estate, a young man with a dashing appearance was staring up at the lazy clouds above, a wistful frown on his well-featured face. Although it was artificial, the view was much more pleasant than the scorched skies that the twin suns naturally provided.

"How long has it been since I've seen a real sky?" sighed the man. He began to pet a nearby plant, which rubbed its snow-covered petals against him in an affectionate manner. "If only the others were still here..."

It had been millions of years since the last of his loved ones had died of old age, a bridge that he wasn't destined to cross. The other immortals were constantly dying off and being replaced, so he was sure that none still lived out of those that he had once known. Only he, a true immortal, would exist forever more.

Sensing his melancholy, the surrounding plants began to rub against him more vigorously, now consoling.

"I know, and it means more than anything to me. Without you all, would there even be a point to this stagnant life of mine?"

He sat down and stared up at the cloudy skies, thoughtful. "Should I make some creatures to fly around again?" The great expanse of artificial azure seemed lonely now that the previous species had gone extinct. "No, they will only grow old and die, just like the others."

He sighed again, a strong habit that had developed in recent years. Even for somebody like him, who stood at the top of the universe, the solitude was terribly saddening. Such feelings made him recall his mother, and soon his father and his siblings. The days of his boyhood were so far in the past that he could only vaguely remember the appearances of his parents and sisters, and nothing more. It had been a long time since he'd forgotten the sounds of their voices, the memories of their lifetime together. What never left him, however, was the wonderful warmth that filled his bosom whenever he imagined their faces, at least the few details that desperately lingered within the furthest reaches of his mind.

"Family...I miss them."

The surrounding plants made a few strange movements.

He shook his head. "That's not an option. In the end, I'm still the Wayward Immortal. I've lived for far too long to recreate the sorts of memories that I long for. It wouldn't be genuine."

He sat down and closed his eyes, casting his consciousness beyond the sky and far out into infinite space. In particular, he focused on the many lower realms, which resided about as far away from his secluded domain as a living being could be found. After the last of his loved ones had passed away, he had purposely settled on the farthest edge of the universe for a single reason. No light or life had ever been encountered in the areas beyond his home, which guaranteed that virtually nobody ventured into this corner of space. Indeed, if he looked an equal distance in the opposite direction, he wouldn't sense a single soul within all that space, or see any sort of matter. All that existed beyond this point was darkness.

As he had every day for the past tens of thousands of years, the Wayward Immortal began to follow the daily lives of random sentient beings in the most interesting developed societies that he could find, and as usual, he chose to observe humans. There were various types of gods in existence, and nearly all sentient beings in the lower realms were made in the images of these higher species.

Though much less refined, humans resembled the Wayward Immortal more than any other creatures, since they were made in the image of his clansmen. Their temperaments, their societies, and their anatomies were all very similar to those of the beings in the higher realms, but their lives only lasted a short while, and they were incredibly weak. Even so, they were exceedingly social, and he could spy on them without worry of offending some fledgling immortal.

As he was prodded by the plants in his 109th garden, the seemingly young man smiled. "Yes, let's see what the lad is up to."

He had been keeping up with the life of a young boy in a distant world, who belonged to a beautiful and loving family that reminded him of his most distant past.

"Oh no..."

Another sigh escaped his lips as he saw that the boy's village had been destroyed since he last checked in. All he saw was a little skeleton within the charred, smoking remains of their modest home, six other bodies mixed in with the rubble and debris.

The Wayward Immortal nodded along with a pair of glowing lilies that sat at his shoulder. "Yes, this happens too often. My clansmen made them too similar to us."

There were thousands of humans that he kept track of, but most of them were met with unfortunate ends. He wished that he could help, but if an immortal like him tried to descend into the lower realms, that area of space would likely collapse. He could only play the part of the observer, no matter how tragic of a scene he witnessed.

His mood dampened, the Wayward Immortal shifted his attention to a calmer planet, one where people tinkered with science rather than focusing on cultivating the energies of existence within their bodies.

These worlds were usually better as far as quality of life went, though only at particular times of peace. Most people were able to fully enjoy their lives in such times, or at least not suffer, so he figured that following some humans on this planet would brighten his mood.

Time passed and the Wayward Immortal eventually stood up, a beautiful sparkle in his eyes that set the surrounding plants whispering with excitement.

"I know what I must do."

He scanned the little planet down to its core, where most of its celestial energy was stored. This energy leaked up to the surface whenever a new vessel was born, in proportion to the size of the creature that was destined to house it. Just as there was an endless leak, there was also a permanent influx of discarded energy that returned to the core as vessels around the world ceased to function. All planetary life in the universe followed this cycle, which he planned to take advantage of.

"It's here," he said quietly, projecting his line of sight to the plants around him.

He followed the thickest tendril of energy up to a mid-sized continent, where it disappeared within a large building—large in comparison to the others in the sprawling settlement.

The building in question was one that held a special significance in the society to which it belonged. It was in places like this that the humans of this world gave birth to their young, and also where many of them tended to die in their later years. Such a heavy presence of life and death ensured a constant circulation of celestial energy, the source of all life.

He stifled a sigh as he honed in on a tragic scene within one of the building's many rooms. This was where the largest tendril of energy had leaked to, into the only human body with a chance of containing it. However, the process failed. A woman had just miscarried, and she herself was moments away from death. She seemed aware of this, and had requested to embrace her child during her final moments.

The Wayward Immortal was suddenly unsure. The whole point of his plan was to experience the joys and wonders of joining a loving family, which he feared would be more difficult if he became motherless in his first moments.

Scanning the planet again, he was vividly aware of several hundred other humans that shared the infant's direct bloodline. Coincidently, the deceased child had almost been a part of a large family by this world's standards.

It had to be this vessel, thought the Wayward Immortal. These were the exact circumstances that he had been searching for.

As the woman's life began to fade, the plants fell into a fit of restless writhing.

"Of course I won't let her die."

Most of them started up in a curious shuffle, scattering more snow across the garden. Slowly but with increasing speed, the celestial energy within the woman began to break free of her body like a squirming serpent intent on wriggling away.

The source that had failed to occupy the infant had already returned to the planet's core. With the vessel left abandoned, a rare glint of determination filled the Wayward Immortal's star-speckled irises, and he pointed an index finger directly above him.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the twin stars that he had created, his gaze penetrating the illusion that he had cast on the skies above the floating continent. In truth, the suns were actually composed of the celestial energy that he had accumulated throughout his lifetime. It had all been filtered to match his own, which gave life to the largest and most impressive version in the universe of what lesser beings referred to as the soul. In an instant, two tiny specks of energy broke away from the stars, one black and one white, before they combined into a miniature rendition of the dual orbit that they had just detached from and shot down to hover before the Wayward Immortal.

Sensing the will of the plants, he bit his lower lip. "Yes, perhaps this is too much."

The miniature sun shrunk down to half its size, at which point he flicked his finger and sent it flying out of the atmosphere, but only after he instilled it with a tiny portion of his consciousness. Faster than most beings could comprehend, it was ejected from the binary system and went on to streak across the cosmos, eventually penetrating into the lower realms without disturbing their structure in the slightest. In a matter of moments, it landed atop the building that he had been focusing on and seamlessly entered into the unmoving infant, which almost immediately began to cough and cry. Very subtly, a tiny portion of this energy slipped into the dying woman and latched onto her unstable source, yanking it back into her body.

"How peculiar," he remarked aloud, speaking to himself this time around. A tiny fragment of his soul now occupied the human infant, though all of the existing memories and knowledge were firmly sealed away. "He is me, and yet he isn't..."

As the woman and the infant began to stir, the only man in the room that shared the child's bloodline renewed his cries in full. Beneath the stupefied gazes of all others that were present, the man collapsed against the bed and pulled his family into a gentle, bloody embrace.

"From now on," said the Wayward Immortal, projecting his voice into the minds of every sentient plant on his estate, "we will only keep track of one human."

He resettled his focus on the feeble family, already anticipating the day that he would harvest the tiny fragment of his soul. Once its vessel ceased to function, the soul that occupied it would automatically return to its original source. At that time, he would gain all of the memories of the person that his other self was destined to become. Examining his new "parents," and aware of the hundreds of relatives that his other self would have in this new life, his ailing heart settled into the most serene state that it had known in a very, very long time.

"I've placed myself in a good spot, and at a good time, too." He wore an old friend of a smile. "With loving parents, and a big family."

He had also left behind a handful of succinct information, as a bit of a boon to the squirming infant. Life was a battle in and of itself, even in a relatively peaceful world such as the one regarded by his mind's eye. The whole purpose of this plan was for the other him to live out a full human life, so he had been sure to send along some ways for the unsuspecting youth to secure his own safety and that of those around him. After everything that the Wayward Immortal had witnessed over the years, there was no way that he would overlook something so important.

"I know, I know," he said to one of the plants that had just spoken up. "Of course he'll have to wait a bit before he's aware of those gifts. He needs to grow accustomed to everyday life first, and to mature a bit."

The world that he had chosen was tiny and only contained a small amount of celestial energy, so even with the methods that he had bestowed upon the squirming infant, there was no possibility of endangering the planet itself, even if the other him ended up living for thousands of years.

The plants began to bob their heads, signifying laughter. An immortal that he'd once known had enjoyed undertaking the same endeavor within an endless cycle, but had lost his mind after he'd split his soul in half and scattered one of the portions across the cosmos as billions of tiny fragments. By the time that the last one returned, he had long since lost his sense of self.

"This is completely different." He waved the plants off with impatience. "Now quiet, all of you. We've only got a sliver of time to us before this experiment comes to an end. I don't want to miss a moment!"

Back in the lesser world, the man and woman were in the midst of a long and tearful kiss, instigated as soon as the cries of their newborn boy began to subside. The man was thanking God for the greatest gift of his life.

The Wayward Immortal stared down at the boy with an expectant smile.