Bastion had won the day; wishing Fantasia back into existence, saving and naming the Empress Moonchild, and uniting himself with the world of his dreams. What eventually followed was somewhat less pleasant. Every cloud, it is said, has a silver lining, and it seems the inverse, too, is often true. The earth child soon realized that there were no limits to his wishing power. The world of Fantasia was his to make and remake, as he saw fit. In the hands of an eleven-year-old boy, who would topple a LEGO castle that was the product of hours of play out of a short flash of anger from having stepped on a brick, this was a disaster-in-waiting. Indeed, no sooner had he finished surveying the vastness of his creation, then did his attention drift. When asked what he would like to wish for next, he answered with one hushed word: "Revenge." Armed with the luck dragon Falkor, he rode down the bullies who had tormented him in school. Would this be a crime, but for the word "crime" having no meaning to an absolute metaphysical god.
His pettiness found no bounds to contain it. In time, he would simply wish out of existence that which annoyed him; when Teeny Weeny's wimpering struck a nerve, Teeny Weeny was removed; his story erased. When a stone-sized fragment of granite fell from Rock Biter's cobbled lips, he wished that no one knew – not just what a Rock Biter was – but what rocks were, at all. Moonchild once quarreled with Bastion – after an imperfect wish left her with shattered memories of vegetable dinners, the color pink, thunderstorms, darkness, rocks (and the giants that eat them) – and a million hundredyears passed where no one knew what a moon was, much less the hypothetical child of one. Of any of these, and countless more, not even the faintest memory remained. Despite many aeons of rule with the metaphysical fabric of Fantasia in his grasp, Bastion's abuse continued, and grew. Given infinite power, he remade Fantasia as he saw fit, and by the end, all that he originally wrought was not gone, but had never been at all. What denizens there were by the end, knew him not as Bastion the boy, but only as the Power.
Finally, in a fit of frustration with the world he had made and remade innumerable times, he unwished it in its entirety, seeking the solace that could only come from absolute annihilation.
It was in that moment, less than the blink of an eye to the all-powerful Bastion, that an empress called for a champion, a quest was begun, and ended, and a world died and was reborn again, by the wish of a new god, who hopefully wouldn't be such an inconsiderate dick to everyone.