Three hundred years later.
Three hundred long years.
Three centuries.
Thirty decades.
Time moved in ways beyond the comprehension of mortals.
Several generations had come and gone.
But three hundred years was nothing to many.
It was nothing to those who had been alive for such a long time that they had begun to forget things they never thought they would forget.
Technically, gods could not forget anything, but they could delete their memories. So if it actually seemed like they had forgotten something, it always meant it had been deleted, either by them or by someone else.
For the Highest Will, memories were precious. But they were also quite depressing.
"Come, be here." A gentle voice uttered words, and the rules of reality shifted so that what was said became reality.
Above the cosmos, at a place where the three phases of the universe could be seen simultaneously.
