That voice, with its merciless love of him, drove in.
"We understand, and we say you have not failed. For see! You have created, and has not that driving urge to create been the great pain of your life?"
His thoughts swept out in blind denial. "I have not created."
"You created us."
The sublime voice vibrated sweetly on the emptiness. And deep in the fabric of Oldster was chaos.
"You created us, Oldster, as surely as if you had sired Darkness himself. For did you not guide Darkness to his life's completion? Was it not the thought of you that brought Sun Destroyer back along Darkness' path? And was it not you who guided Vanguard, you who, in your greatness, saw us in him? Yes, Oldster, you are our creator—you are the creator of life!
"And it is life that shall endure, and has ultimate meaning."
Oldster hung laxly in that sphere of golden blaze. Deep within was a warning voice. But now he would not heed it. Not to rebel—ah, how sweet to accept!
He was theirs. Let it be so. Let them lead him to his life's completion. They, in their all-knowingness, could not be questioned. He had created. The thought held white and pure before him. Let the thought be so.
"Life that shall endure," he muttered.