“Grow,” the Creator whispered. “Grow, and become.”

Ord didn’t understand. It had been nothing but a lonely moon its whole life. “It hurt,” Ord whimpered feebly. “It hurt, all the time.”

The creator didn’t respond at first. It kept orbiting at the same distance, its thoughts fragmented and superimposed. Eventually the voice of the Lord spoke very clearly and apologized. It was sorry, it said. It hadn’t meant for things to get so out of hand. The history had gotten all mixed up and written down wrong.

Ord told it that was okay. It seemed happy with that. It left shortly after.

Then the planet of Ord started to grow.