Most creatures were born or were created. The godling wasn't like most creatures. And so, instead of being born a baby, or being created and stored in some secret location until it matured, it went from nonexistence to existence in an instant. It sprung into life fully mature and ready to influence the multiverse in a range of ways but also ignorant of its origins or of the particular reason why it knew strange and seemingly trivial things.

It sprung into existence in a small forest. The creature phased into reality in the middle of a small and artificial path, surrounded on both sides by thick trees that freely shed auburn colored leaves. It phased into reality with its eyes closed and kept those eyes closed for a few moments while its brain absorbed tons of information all at once.

The first things it noticed were the smell and taste of the forest and air respectively. The forest smelled diverse and well-inhabited. It could instinctively identify dozens of different types of trees, grass, naturally grown vegetables, and more by scent alone. It could also smell a variety of different fauna ranging from squirrels to wolves, to more magical creatures like small fey-folk deep in the forest. The last thing it could smell was the thick scent of nature magic. The creature didn't know how it knew this, but it presumed that the source of that magic was either a powerful fey-creature or a druid, either of which possessed potent nature magic in their blood and used it freely. Such magic left a lingering and detectable impression on the world around it, even when unused, and that impression was what the godling could smell.

The taste of the air was something the godling savored. The air tasted clean and free of the polluting effects of logging or of other actions taken by metal focused civilizations. Any societies that may have existed in the forest were capable of coexisting with nature and were not overly reliant on forged tools or on the destruction of nature, which helped explain why the forest was so clean. The creature knew that such cleanliness and purity were unusual and so decided to enjoy it while it had access to it. The magic in the air added a slight kick to the taste, akin to what civilized creatures might call a "spice", but the godling was a newborn, or at least as newborn as a godling could be, and had no way of knowing what civilization called or might have called anything. So instead of focusing on labels the creature freely enjoyed the taste of the air on its tongue and in its lungs without worrying about the preciseness or nuances of language.

The creature sensed the ground underneath it and wondered what that it would feel like on its hands. The creature felt the soft dirt directly on its feet and enjoyed the warmth of the grainy substance underneath it because it lacked shoes and so the sensation of the clumps at its feet was something it could detect freely and without obstruction. Weirdly enough the creature knew it wasn't naked, feeling clothing on other parts of its body.

It wore a thin shirt made of magic but mysteriously customized to feel like plain and undyed woolen cloth, and thick pants also made of magic but designed to feel like thick fur garments, colored the same shade of brown as a wolf's fur might be.

The creature itself knew this was odd and this made the creature curious, but the entity was intelligent enough to know that any questions it had about the source of said clothing were beyond its ability to answer at this moment. Instead of focusing on them and getting nowhere the creature knew it should focus on the knowledge it could gain and moves it could make.

Before the creature opened its eyes for the first time it knelt down and grabbed some of the soil from the artificial path it sprang into existence on. It kept the stuff in its hands as it observed and studied it. It allowed itself to memorize the tactile sensations of the stuff and committed various things about it to memory.

Among other things, it memorized the size of each grain of the stuff in its hands and wondered about their origin because they didn't match up with the rest of the materials it could sense around it, through some ill-defined sixth sense it possessed.

It lifted the clumps to its noise and inhaled which ultimately confirmed its suspicions that the stuff smelled quite different from the other scents in the forest. Because of the overwhelming amount of native trees and grass that surrounded it, the scent couldn't overpower everything else but it was quite obviously alien to the rest of the forest.

The creature opened its eyes and uncupped its hands at the same time, allowing the particulates at its feet to fall back to its original location. The sight before it was breathtaking. It stood on a small path that was marked by soft dirt and clearly stood out in comparison to the rest of the forest it was in. The dirt beneath it was a cool yellow color and the rest of the soil and grass around it that wasn't a part of the path was a dark shade of green.

If the creature had to guess why that type of dirt was chosen by whoever designed the path it was probably because such a color, even as muted as it was in comparison to other shades of yellow, was very bright when contrasted with the things at its feet.

Filled with mysterious knowledge, the creature knew that it could see in the dark without any problems. The same mysterious knowledge also told it that some other beings weren't so lucky. This path probably existed for them. Without the path getting lost in the forest would have been significantly easier and the lightness of the path made it easy to notice, even as the sun was setting off in the distance and light, normally blocked from the forest's lowest layer by the tree line, was flooding the forest.

Other sights in the forest around it included the majesty of the trees that surrounded the artificial and comparatively brightly colored path. The creature knew with but a glance that the trees it could see were older trees, tall and vibrantly alive. Each of them freely unleashed beautiful dark red leaves that quietly glided to the ground below their canopies, guided by a gentle breeze. This produced one of the only noises the creature could hear, the soft rustling of the wind as it stripped leaves from trees and to itself and pulled them to the ground below. Occasionally the creature would hear the soft pitter-patter of footsteps in the distance, usually belonging to small animals that called the forest home. Rarely these steps would be louder and more distinct, belonging to one of the few magical beasts living in the forest. But those steps came from kilometers away, far from where it was and in a place the creature didn't particularly feel like walking towards.

The creature wished it could know what it looked like, but it lacked any reflective surfaces from which it could see its reflection. It knew in time that that would change, so, for now, it simply considered its own appearance something it would learn soon enough. A lot of things were marked like that in the creature's mind.

Thinking but for a moment about what it should do, the creature came to a decision it felt satisfied with quite easily: it would follow the path in a direction it suspected would lead it out of the forest. It started down that path immediately and wondered about what it would find next.

Miles away from the forest a single shoddily built log cabin was hidden away from sight by virtue of its location inside a small cave. This also protected the cabin from the cruelty of the sun. This log cabin had three inhabitants, but only one of them was meaningfully alive. He was a husband and a living human. His wife was on her knees next to him, drops of blood pooling in her eyes and threatening to come pouring down in the form of vampiric tears, which would have only amplified her ravenous thirst by doing the equivalent of dehydrating her. She was a vampire. They both stared long and hard at the third inhabitant of the log cabin; a human male. A dead human male.

They were silently examining the body, and this corpse was not a cadaver in the same sense that the wife was a body. This corpse was lifeless, inanimate, and most tellingly it was drained of all blood, blood which had leaked out of various puncture wounds that were visible to anyone who looked at it, some of them on the dead man's hands and others on other exposed skin, including his groin.

Anyone who sat down and examined the deceased man would be able to determine that the soul that had once inhabited that body had long left it. They could also tell that for some reason or another the inanimate thing wasn't going to rise on its own, like the remains of many other victims of vampires tended to do. This was probably more useful than not, but it still presented them with a real problem.

Not only did they have to deal with the corpse in some way or another, but sooner rather than later they'd also eventually have to contend with the consequences of the woman drinking human blood for the first time in a decade. Such an action, even when done in self-defense, affected those rare vampires who sought peace and tolerance from their neighbors in cruel and unpredictable ways. The sole living creature in the log cabin felt his mind racing at a mile a minute as he considered what to do to avoid even more disasters befalling them as a consequence of this.