*Wordcount: 137 words.
The thing stirred from a dreamless slumber.
There was no confusion when it opened its eyes to darkness, no anger at being forgotten for so long.
How long, it couldn’t say, but it knew from its endless stores of near-omniscient knowledge that it had been a long time.
It rose, ancient muscle and bone and sinew creaking, cracking, and mending, as they re-accustomed themselves with movement.
There was no pain, only a vitality that it had not known even at its prime.
The first thing it laid its bottomless eyes on was its servant, the one who had freed it. His soul was immediately freed as thanks, given a humble place in the god’s afterlife.
This world had forgotten it, and evidently moved on from the damage it had once wrought.
That would not do.