Ryan

Ryan's vision slowly focused, and he found himself in a small, windowless room. It was bare but for a bed placed haphazardly in the center. Its tenant, a wrinkled old man, slowly opened his gummed eyes and focused on the young God.
"So," he said hoarsely, "This is it then."
He's dying, thought Ryan, Alone.
"Lord knows I've been ready." croaked the ancient. "Take me up in your arms or give-" He coughed wetly. "Or give me my wings or whatever it is you do."
How? Ryan stepped forward nevertheless and, after a moment's hesitation, laid his hands over the elder. He did everything he thought could help, from just willing it to be done to trying to reach out and take the man's soul.
Nothing worked. Looking at the pitiful being before him, Ryan found himself wishing a new petition would simply spirit him away from the sickroom. Soon enough, one did. The man's cries reached him as he faded.
"No! Don't leave me, please! Take me with you!"

Ryan

The girls cries stopped as she approached. She wiped her nose with her sleeve. Her eyes glittered with hope.

"Are you an angel?"

"I guess so." answered Ryan.

"Did you come to take us home?" She clutched her bear tightly as she spoke.

"Here." Smiling comfortingly, Ryan extended a hand to the girl. She reached to take it, then frowned. Her fingers had passed right through him.

"Mister Angel?" asked the girl, reaching in vain again. "Why wont you help me?"

As another prayer pulled Ryan far away, he watched the pitiful girl fade. As darkness surrounded him, he realized exactly how the girl felt.

Alone.

Ryan

Ryan woke up in the clouds, and he didn't feel out of place. The sun was bright, too bright, impossibly bright, but somehow it felt nice. The Being before him, too, was bright. Ryan didn't mind. He didn't tremble when he felt the Titan speak, the voice coming from all around and within.

"I'm done. Your turn."

With that, the Behemoth vanished from all being, leaving only a faint odor of ozone.

I'm God, Ryan thought. How do I do this?