What if the word coincidence was used as an excuse so we can live freely in ignorance? I had that dream for a reason, and the experiences I have endured so far confirm my assumptions. I bethink of the inexplicable moment when I could not fathom nor rationalise what I saw. Was it a hallucination? A premonition? Anything is possible – right?
The memory of the mechanical giant softly gazing down at me, radiating concern, and studying my expression is still freshly painted in my mind. My chest flutters with an unease constrained by an anchor of zealousness; his impelling resolution to guarantee my safety. He wanted to ask me what was wrong. He hesitated and chose not to pry. Demonstrating his restraint. I reckon he could have searched through my thoughts with ease if he wanted to, but he gave me space instead.
To be honest, I am uncertain how much can be censored or hidden. I don't know how to filter our empathic and telepathic exchanges – yet. There is no instruction manual or guidance. Only exposure. I wonder if it's because of our time spent together that he has managed to grasp the concept of personal boundaries, and, therefore, kept his innermost thoughts to himself, shielding them from our connection – from me.
I should be satisfied and relieved with his decision, but I'm not. For some strange reason, I feel quite saddened by it. Is it a symptom of emotional withdrawal perhaps? Privacy is a double-edged sword, especially when you want to learn more about a certain someone.
Since my childhood days, I have always been an introvert and an overly private person. Enjoying solitude. Keeping to myself. Not letting anyone else in. It was easier that way.
But when our connection was first established, I couldn't simply sit down and process the situation. Everything around me was happening too quickly, and I barely made it out alive.
Back then, I would have argued our connection felt too intimate and invasive if I had the option to decline. Instead, the critical ramifications of our plight and ensuring our own survival became our top priority. To him, I am an open book, whereas he is an indecipherable enigma; an infuriating ten-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle.
His self-proclaimed memory loss doesn't help either.
He himself is his own mystery. The impediment of not knowing oneself is an intrapersonal loss; one he has to endure. Drowning in your own thoughts is an isolating and disquieting sufferance; an experience I am too familiar with.
I could try to get to know the present him in the unknown time bracket we have, while we are still alive. Then again, if we do happen to survive, and he recovers from his amnesia, I could either wind up with a lifelong friend – or a foe.
An enemy is the last thing I need, but to have him as a friend would be kind of nice.
I had initially given up on the possibility of friendship; hence, saving myself from future disappointments. People are so unapologetically fickle and full of double standards. A waste of emotional investment. Humanity has done nothing for me – and yet it was an extraterrestrial stranger who had the common decency to save my life. An alien. Not a human.
When I was living in my original timeline, not once did I receive this level of compassion - until now. But why does it still feel unauthentic? Unnatural? Forced? Is he really worth the risk? Is he truly genuine? Seeds of doubt are replanted into my mind - threatening to diminish my self-assurance.
It's not as if he was programmed to protect and submit to me. That would be ridiculous.
He gently puts me down on the ground and stands before the residual phenomena. He bares his palms to the unending glitter-fall. Moulted particles swarm to his open appendages and assemble into an unrefined cluster. He cups the newly formed clump and out thrusts his hands forward, feeding the collected energy back into the raining shimmer.
Purple flashes occur behind the approaching overcast, rumbling overhead. Coveting the full moon and the dejected arrangement of stars. It reminds me of the brewing thunderstorm from my dream. The teal aura outlining the shape of my hand hasn't waned since my hallucinatory episode. Thankfully, Reven hasn't taken any notice of it – yet.
Perhaps it's something only I can perceive - and I hope it remains that way. I don´t wish to be asked questions that I don't have the answers to.
After receiving a streaming influx of energy and acquiring a surplus, the phenomenon enlarges. Intensifying its shimmering dazzlement. It evolves into an interdimensional scar before it reforms into a large laceration. He grabs the torn confines of the threshold and stretches it apart. It begins to shed excessively and produce miasma – signifying its stress. The laceration's forced expansion stiffens and refuses to enlarge any further. Then two imposing figures obscured in the dark emerge from behind Reven, slowly closing in on him, but before I could warn him, a humongous bare foot stomps down in front of me, blocking my view of the rift.
From the ground up, the titan's enormity has never been so undeniable and apparent. Before, when I was perched on Reven's shoulder, it was different. To have a means to match them in height and oppose them was empowering. You don't feel inadequate and a burden. You feel like an equal – in a sense.
Now, my strength and protection are gone; I am just a human.
My legs are rooted to the spot. Overcome by chattering nerves, I begin to shake. My legs won't move. I can't run! What can one human do against a titan? The answer is nothing. It may sound pessimistic, but it's the truth. And sometimes the truth is a hard pill to swallow. Without him, I am utterly useless.
I can either charge in recklessly or come to terms with my fragility.
It isn't easy to acknowledge your own weaknesses and limitations. Even now, I find it baffling how humanity continuously neglects to realise how fragile they truly are.
Such feebleness and ignorance is laughable - isn't it?
Funnily enough, destructive as we are, we do have an uncanny tendency to bounce back from calamity and prevail over adversity.
"To think there were some of you small ones left." The giant's features are masked by twilight.
"Come here, little rodent. I will not harm you." She beckons me with a sickening sweetness as she reaches for me with her colossal hand. I'm merely seconds away from being snatched up and devoured. Her sinister and foreboding nature finally kick-starts my adrenaline - pressuring me to flee - but I can't bring myself to leave him. Not like this. This ongoing fight for survival isn't just about me. It's about the two of us – and I will not abandon him.
"I can hear your heart racing, little one."
Then a blast of cerulean light consumes the titan whole and delivers a prominent burning stench. Fumes seethe from Reven's optic as two scorched corpses lie at his feet. The rift has shrunken and reverted to a scar. He rushes over and scoops me up into his blood-stained metallic hands, as if I were a chick who had fallen out of its nest.
"If we stay here, more will come."
It was the first time I stood alone against a titan. I can't stop myself from shaking. Opening the silent door was unsuccessful. Where do we go from here? When will it be enough until fate is satisfied with us?
The grim overcast unleashes an onslaught of wet specks, bringing us the fresh sea air. Reven sprints through the heavy downpour, determined to get us as far away as possible from the curious nephilim roaming nearby. He then de-escalates into a simple jog and stops altogether. He stares at the restless sea with a dimming forlorn glow – a waning cerulean.
"Without my memories – I cannot succeed." An emotional weight befalls our channel - a heartfelt encumbering loss.
"I have failed."
"No, you haven't," I shout through the thundering rain. Soaked strands of hair cling to my face. My clothes are drenched and skin-tight. I'm nothing more than a drowned rat at this rate.
"We didn't come all of this way for you to give up. We can go somewhere else, but we need to escape the area first." I want to repay him somehow. Physical support is out of the question – and impossible.
I want to serve as a pillar of emotional support and encouragement when his mind is in doubt.
"Every moment counts. Do you understand?" He looks down at me with great solemnness and nods. He is the one who is continuously carrying and protecting me; it's about time I start doing something for him. Whether his compassion is real or not, he is the closest thing I will ever get to true genuineness, which is unfortunately something humanity severely lacks. Compassion is dying in my species, but it lives on through him.
This mechanical giant is the personification of sincerity and valour. And I'm glad to have met him. Regret and unfathomable mutters of self-blame infiltrate our channel. His inner demons are trying to tear down his pillars of hope and push him to the precipice of surrender. I rest my hand on his metallic thumb.
"We'll get through this – I promise."