"Strange… there's nothing."
Rowan Mercer had searched the entire Wizarding world.
Every continent.
Every hidden pocket of reality.
Even the timestream itself.
There was no trace of a creator. No sanctuary. No lingering imprint of authority.
"That shouldn't be possible."
At his current state, a creator bound to a single universe could not hide from him. Not completely.
Only two explanations remained.
Either the creator had abandoned this universe entirely…
Or this world was never singular to begin with.
Rowan raised his right hand and traced a circle in the air. Space folded smoothly, forming a portal without resistance. Since his recent evolution, he no longer needed borrowed power to move between realities.
He stepped through.
The world on the other side looked familiar, yet subtly wrong.
Hogwarts stood as it always had, but the faces were different. A much younger Albus Dumbledore walked its halls, unburdened by legend.
Rowan vanished again.
This time he emerged in New York, watching Newt Scamander clash with Gellert Grindelwald amid chaos and shattered streets.
Another step.
Decades earlier still. A quieter world. Severus Snape, Lily Evans, James Potter, and Sirius Black had not yet been born.
One more transition.
Rowan returned to the version of the Wizarding world he himself had reshaped.
He stopped.
Four worlds.
Parallel timelines.
Shared foundation.
"So that's the answer."
This was not a single-universe creation.
It was a multiverse.
Which meant its creator was not confined to any one world.
Stronger than Ilúvatar.
Still far beneath the supreme authority behind Marvel.
But far beyond Rowan's ability to confront directly.
Fighting was not an option.
Escape might be.
But Rowan had no desire to rush into the Void unless forced.
"If you're not inside the worlds," he said quietly, "then you're outside them."
Rowan gathered the fundamental laws of his inner universe, compressing them into a razor-thin edge.
He slashed forward.
Reality tore.
A jagged black fissure split open, cutting through the outer shell of the Wizarding multiverse itself.
Rowan stepped through without hesitation.
Darkness swallowed him.
Not emptiness. Not shadow.
Depth.
Thickness.
A place where space itself resisted being understood.
Behind him floated a massive, radiant sphere. Inside it were four smaller spheres, tightly clustered together. Each one was a Wizarding universe.
Above them, anchored like a crown, stood an ancient palace. Its presence felt old in a way that ignored time altogether.
Rowan narrowed his eyes.
"There you are."
He attempted to teleport.
Nothing happened.
Space here was heavier, denser, refusing to bend.
"So I fly."
Rowan surged forward, magic carrying him across the dark expanse. Moments later, he reached the palace gates.
Someone was already waiting.
A humanoid figure formed entirely of spirit, holding a massive scythe. No flesh. No blood. Only cold finality.
Rowan examined it once and dismissed the idea immediately.
"Not the creator," he muttered. "Too weak."
The figure inclined its head.
"I am the Death of the Four Worlds," it said calmly. "Servant of the Great Creator. She foresaw your arrival."
It turned and began walking inward.
"Follow me."
There was no hostility. No warning. Just certainty.
Rowan followed.
They passed through vast, silent halls until they reached a secluded inner chamber.
The Death knelt.
"My master. The guest has arrived."
Rowan looked past it.
There was no throne.
No figure.
Only a small, floating violet disc, gently rotating in midair.
Rowan paused.
"…That's unexpected."
The Death faded away, dissolving into the structure of the palace.
A calm, gentle voice emerged from the disc.
"This is not my true body."
Rowan listened without interrupting.
"My original form was destroyed during the creation of the fourth world. I miscalculated. The strain was too great."
The disc pulsed softly.
"Another traveler passed through the Void and intervened, stabilizing my soul within this vessel. Without that aid, all four worlds would have been left without a creator."
Rowan's expression sharpened.
"Let me guess," he said. "The one who helped you was called Aurelion."
The disc tilted slightly, an unmistakable affirmation.
"Yes. You already know his name."