The sun sinks into the beyond and bedims the horizon. Painted streaks of coral and amaranthine adorn the skyline like a traditional canvas painting. The advent of the evening had brought a welcoming drop in temperature and humidity. The vast, unleveled layout of dry land around the base of the mountains is both familiar and new to me. It has a small population of palm trees and shrubs.
I haven't seen any animals so far, except for the birds flying overhead. They probably all went into hiding or were eaten by the local titans.
In the past, I was skeptical about the existence of giants, back when my faith was brittle. I skimmed through the book of Enoch. Even as I read it loosely, I learned about the watchers who fornicated with human women, who then gave birth to the nephilim. They were hybrids of angel and human DNA. The nephilim were the first of a new bloodline and blood type, the RH negative.
They also became the root cause of corruption, as they hungered and defiled the flesh. This was the reason why God summoned the great biblical flood, to drown and wash away all corruption, taking most of mankind with it, except for a select few who were excluded.
And now I'm stranded in an era of giants.
Like Reven and the mantis alien, they are all real.
They are alive.
Shit. I can't remember the date. My recollection of the scripture from the book of Genesis is unclear.
What was the date again?
The biblical flood must have been around two thousand, three hundred, and forty-five BC, or something around that figure? I shrug my shoulders. Oh well. Damned if I know. I'm too tired to care right now.
God acknowledged and expected the selected few he spared from the great flood to repopulate the lands. Apparently, they were pure enough to surpass his judgment, unlike myself, who never received the time or day from him.
Perhaps I am destined to drown along with the nephilim.
I'm not naïve enough to believe he would spare a second thought or consideration of mercy towards me. Almost everyone during that tribulation was damned. In his eyes, even without the corruption, I am too damaged and imperfect for him; too human.
I am beyond his salvation.
Distracted; heaviness weighs down on my eyelids, trying to entice me back into my inner realm of dark comforts. The internal darkness impatiently waits for my return; however, my insomnia persists and leeches off my thoughts, hence preventing my arrival.
Then unexpectedly, balls of fire rain from the darkened colourants of the evening sky and recede from my field of vision. They disappeared as soon as they fell. For some inexplicable reason, the meteorite shower did not evoke a sense of awe and wonder, but rather an undisclosed feeling of eeriness instead.
I veer my attention to the translucent streams profusely cascading from Reven's shoulder and midsection. Driblets hit the malnourished roam, and an ongoing exhalation of hot steam is thrust forward from between his parted throat panels, against the falling temperature.His breaths are partnered with a telepathic wheeziness.
As tempting as it is to let my consciousness drift, I couldn't bring myself to leave him behind. Not like this. Not while he carries the weight of both of us. For me to sleep seemed unfair.
He stops and starts, giving himself plenty of breaks in between.
How long does he intend to persevere? His condition is worsening, and there is nothing I can do to help him. I slouch against his shaded neck panel. My head keeps falling forward as I struggle to keep my head upright. The painful phantom sensations from his recent injuries have numbed - already feeling like a distant memory.
He trudges downhill at a cautious pace, careful not to stumble or careen off balance. Once he steps down onto a small, even piece of turf, he stops. His breaks are becoming more and more frequent. Exhaling heavily and continuously wheezing through our telepathic link.
Further ahead of us, there is a dying golden shimmer. Glitter shedding from thin air?
Gold that never touches the earth?
Am I seeing things?
Has my fatigue finally made me delirious?
A questionable brilliance, one that is out of place and nonsensical. What the heck?
Reven approaches the shimmer, showing no apprehension. His hand slides underneath the waterfall of glitter so it can rain down into his palm, laying it flat. He tilts his hand, and the mound of fallen specks pours from the shallow dip in the center, down to one side. It doesn't seem to affect his wound, but merely glides across it in a fluid motion. Pouring off his hand like sand and diminishing into thin air again. Symbolizing the delicate fickleness of time, amounting and emptying in the hourglass.
The change of collection and flow solely depends on which side the unperceivable hourglass has been upturned.
Ever since that fateful encounter with the shard, time has been running against me - against both of us.
Our fate is unknown and yet aligned in the stars.
Reven removes his injured appendage from the glitter-fall as the strange phenomenon perpetuates its reoccurrence, trapped in a continuous loop of endless cascading. There are more of them dotted around in the open, across the sloped terrain, trailing for miles ahead.
Why are there so many of these phenomena? And why are they so conveniently close?
Coincidence perhaps? No. Something feels amiss. Why are we just noticing them now?
Did we experience missing time along the way or something?
Reven passes by the discovered phenomenon and moves onto the next one closest to us.
"What are they?"
He touches the second glitter-fall, entranced by its continual glistening.
"Silent doors." He grunts. "They grant any soul the opportunity to travel to any given location or timeframe in the universe – if the conditions are met."
"What are the conditions?"
"Environmental quietude."
Is that all?
"You sound unsure."
"My memory is not what it used to be. My retention is impaired."
"So you can't remember?"
"I'm afraid not, for I can only recollect a diminutive percentage of my fragmented past."
Fragmented past? Don't tell me he has amnesia or something?
God, talk about the blind leading the blind. I trusted him, and he has risked our lives for uncertainty while we were onboard the motherpod, trying to make sense of our situation.
In the long run, all we did was hope for the best. Verging on certain death. And now, he doesn't have a damn clue regarding what he is supposed to be doing or where to go.
The only reason we have survived so far is because of sheer luck!
He hunches over and vomits vital fluids from his open panels. They splatter onto the malnourished roam, followed by a gut-wrenching groan. He bursts into an abrupt coughing fit. His breathing is hitched and overwhelmed; domineered by breathlessness as he struggles to gasp. His unrelenting cough persists and delays his respiratory intake. A shudder travels down his spine, rattling his well-built, rustic frame.
"Reven!"
For what was meant to sound considerate and gentle, my tone slurs into a vicious feline hiss. An intense, searing sensation gnaws and wriggles within the gastric confines of my gut as though it were being infested by maggots. The pain shoots up to my shoulder, delivering a harsh final measure of excruciation.
Stealing all the attention from everything else – most definitely, and truly.
His vocals erupt into another bout of coughing and spluttering. He cranes his neck and stares longingly into the distance. A radiant line of tangerine outlines a divisive boundary between heaven and the ends of the unlit ocean in the wake of incoming twilight, where the inflamed astronomical sphere regresses.
He positions his back upright and stands straight, shielding his midsection with his hand, unable to touch it.
He treads steadily towards the direction of the sea, with a sway of fatigue and unyielding perseverance.
Uttering the word "water."
There is an annoying familiarity and newness to this area. It's bothering the hell out of me for some reason. There are no roads, vehicles, landmarks, residential and communal buildings, or any sign of human activity. T
The expanse makes me think of my dream - and then it hits me.
If I were in the Common Era right now, I would be outside of La Marina's urbanization. Not too far from its coastal village. Adjacent to the village is the beach of Costa Blanca – the white coast.
I can't believe it.
I'm in BC, Spain.
And judging by the virgin land and the absence of civilization, there are no settlers around these parts as far as I am aware, except for the nephilim, of course. So, I'll make an educated guess and assume it hasn't been named the Iberian Peninsula as of yet.
Reven's foot sinks into the wet, pristine sand as he trudges into the shallows. Low tidal waves crash into his shins, spraying salt water into the cooling air.
"I did not realize." He began cryptically.
I frown. Confused by his remark.
"About what?"
"Your thoughts. They have changed."
"What are you talking about?"
"It was never my intention to cause you grief or for you to feel foolish. Please forgive me for my insensitivity."
I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or genuine. Of course, I'm still annoyed at that revelation, but even so, he did save my life on two separate occasions, which I cannot deny.
We were given little choice and forced to use what we had while we were on board the spacecraft.
He was there when it counted the most.
When the situation demanded it.
He pulled through for me despite his debilitating disadvantage. He could have left me to perish if he wanted to, but he didn't. The more I ponder it, perhaps I should have been sympathetic towards his mental health. Actions speak louder than words after all...