The Law of Allowance
The Celestial Sphere did not gather; it remembered itself into being, every single sphere.
In a state of ordered suspension stood the Angels, uncountable and immeasurable.
These were not beings born of biological evolution, nor were they entities composed of spirit or soul. They were structural constants given form. Their wings were not limbs of flesh or light, but universal laws rendered in perfect symmetry. Their eyes were living equations, capable of contemplating the infinite without the mind collapsing under the weight of it.
At the core of this geometry stood the source of all things: The Creator.
To call The Creator the "center" was a human error, for center implied space, and space was merely a courtesy granted to the universe much later. The Creator was the Allowance.
When addressing the angels, there was no voice. A voice requires vibration, and the creator was the silence that preceded the great nothing . Instead, intent reached the angels as an inevitability shaped into understanding.
"You will witness many powers," The Creator imparted. "You will catalog them. You will name them, Some of you will govern them."
The angels inclined not in a gesture of worship, but in a snap of alignment, like iron filings to a magnet.
"There will be magic," The Creator continued. "There will be systems that draw upon spiritual pressure, upon the cultivation of the soul, upon ancient runes, or upon the sheer force of a user's will. There will be energies that incinerate galaxies, laws that bind causality, and abilities that rewrite outcomes to deny the ending of a story."
The Sphere shimmered as The Absolute branched out—the sum total of all existence, encompassing every mathematical possibility, every physical law, and every objective truth.
"None of these are accidents." The thought was not projected with pride, but with the same neutrality one uses to state the law of gravity. "Power does not emerge spontaneously"
"Abilities do not self-author, Every system no matter how chaotic or 'limitless' it claims to be requires permission to function."
The angels perceived the formation of distant hierarchies: warriors awakening to world-breaking auras, cosmic entities wielding domains of time, and mortals who seemed to defy all logic through forbidden techniques. None of it was a surprise.
"Every miracle is not created directly," The Creator resonated. "Creation is too intimate for such vast abundance. Instead, the conditions were allowed by which creation could occur."
In that moment, the angels understood the hierarchy of existence. Magic was not the fundamental substance. Spiritual energy was not the primary force. Even reality itself was not the baseline.
Allowance was.
"There are fictions that will call themselves supreme," The Creator stated calmly. "Cosmologies that will insist they are the final, absolute truth. Characters who will claim omnipotence because their worlds have not yet found a way to contradict them."
A few angels tightened their wings, anticipating the conflict such claims would bring.
"They are not wrong," The Creator added. "Within their own bounds."
The Celestial Sphere expanded infinitesimally, accommodating every contradiction and "absolute" power without a hint of strain.
"There is no competition with them," The Creator explained. "Competition implies parity that the same game is being played. There is no overruling them, Overrule implies that there is a resistance to be met."
The presence paused. Systems learned how to pause because The Creator had first conceived of the interval.
"It is simply a decision of whether their rules are allowed to apply."
At that realization, the angels finally grasped their role. They were not the cosmic police, nor were they spiritual guardians. They were the Archivists of Permission.
"There will be abilities that negate the concept of death," The Creator continued. "Others that transcend space, erase entire narratives, or claim to exist 'outside' of existence itself. All of them function because they are not forbidden."
No angel dared to interpret this as mercy or cruelty. It was a mechanical truth.
"Should allowance be withdrawn," The Creator stated, "power would not 'fail' or 'break.' It would never have been."
This was not a threat; it was a description of the nature of the pen and the page.
"This is spoken now," The Creator concluded, "because one day, some will believe that power itself is the highest truth in The Absolute."
The Celestial Sphere stabilized, locking into place.
"When that happens, remember this: Power exists only because it is permitted to mean something."
The angels did not bow. They remembered.
And far below the Sphere, at the edge of The Absolute, the first fictional god opened its eyes. It felt its own infinite strength , the spiritual energy in its veins and the authority in its hands and was utterly convinced it was the beginning and the end. It was entirely correct right up until the moment permission might one day be reconsidered.