The power was a scream—not a sound, but a powerful force in the Spiritual Realm that violently bled into the Cognitive and Physical Realms. It had no name or purpose because its Vessel had been killed right after the Shattering of Adonalsium, during the first conflicts between the new gods. Its raw power had been left untouched for thousands of years, a wild and untamed force.

Aris, a scholar of Realmic theory, had spent her life studying this power. She knew that an untended Shard was like a ticking time bomb. It was a force without direction that could warp reality just by existing. The power had already begun to cause strange events: areas where gravity was reversed, moments where time went backward, and bright islands of color that hurt the eyes.

She stood at the edge of the power’s physical form, a swirling storm of energy on a long-dead world. The raw power pulsed like a dying heart, feeling lonely and dangerous.

"It needs direction," Aris whispered, pulling her simple robes tighter. She didn't want to be a god, but she had a goal: she believed the universe needed order, a guiding hand to stop the other gods from destroying everything with their petty wars.

Aris had no natural link to this power. She had no grand destiny pushing her forward like the first Vessels. All she had was her strong will and a lifetime of research into how to create a spiritual link. She took a small, steel cube from her satchel. The cube hummed with energy she had collected over decades. It was an anchor, a tool to connect her mortal spirit to the screaming, infinite power.

Aris stepped into the storm.

The moment she entered, her mind was hit with a thousand sensations at once. It was like living a million years in a single second. Raw knowledge slammed into her: the birth of stars, the silent cries of dead worlds, and the details of countless magic systems she had only dreamed of. The power tore at her soul, demanding that she act without thought or consequence.

Create! Destroy! Build! End! the power screamed, throwing chaotic purposes at her mind, searching for a weak point.

Aris held on, focusing on the steel cube and her single goal: to Transcend.

"No," she pushed back. Her mortal voice was lost in the storm, but her will became a sudden, unmoving wall. "We will not be a chaotic force. We will bring order. We will bring Transcendence."

She forced the cube’s connection into the center of the power. 

The power fought back, its scream growing louder. Aris felt her skin tear and her bones groan under the pressure of holding infinity. Her blood boiled, turning to mist as the power consumed her physical body.

She held tight to her one word, her one purpose: Transcend.

The chaos began to calm. The riot of colors faded, and the storm of energy focused, shaped by the unyielding will of the person who refused to be just a Vessel, but a master of her own destiny. The raw power did not consume her; she consumed it, giving it a purpose it had never known.

With a final, silent flash, the storm vanished. The energy folded in on itself, drawn into the core of the newly Ascended being.

Aris was gone.

In her place stood a new force in the Cosmere, a being of structure and purpose, holding a new Intention that gave her clarity instead of warping her mind.

She had taken the power.

She had Ascended.