There was a long sigh and a giant ripple in creation as he made his first life, not through any technique or ability, but with his knowledge. This first step was important.
The child was born.
Yet he was the first to be born of this world and his conception was special, after all, there was no mortal flesh to be found here, and so the light from the moon was his blanket, the sun was his heart, the earth became his bones and the trees became his flesh, the first ocean that developed entered his body and became his blood and when he opened his mouth needing to cry out, the first breeze became his lungs and was the spark that ignited the forge of his life.
This concept seemed simple, but Rowan had drawn from all the immortal and mortal power systems he had ever known to create this firstborn.
The mysteries engraved in a single inch of his flesh would satisfy the cravings of a thousand Archmage for an eternity.
