Wanderer Ch 24: Orgins Unknown, The Most Important Thing In The Universe!

Space folded and unraveled in radiant waves of blue around me. The hum of hyperspace filled my senses, a low vibration that felt like it was tugging at the edges of my being. It wasn't like the jump my ship could make—our human technology was clumsy and unpredictable compared to this. What I was witnessing now was seamless, controlled, and terrifyingly vast.

I stood on her palm, a single dot on the endless landscape of her skin. It was smooth, warm, and yet somehow alive in a way that reminded me of the surface of an alien world. I looked up toward her face, but she wasn't watching me—her golden eyes were fixed forward, piercing through the layers of distorted space as she propelled us through the galaxy.

How far was I going? How many light-years were we traveling in these moments? I couldn't even begin to guess. All I could do was brace myself against the surreal wind generated by her movements, my mind racing with questions.

Where was I being taken? And why me?

I glanced down at the tiny creature in my palm, marveling again at how fragile it was. Even now, I was expending my energy to shield it from the elements. Space was not kind to beings like this—its vacuum would rip him apart in an instant. The thought almost made me laugh. All the trouble I had gone through to get my hands on this little thing, and here it was, so helpless.

But he was important. I couldn't deny that.

Eclipsa floated beside me, her crimson eyes glimmering with amusement as the folds of hyperspace began to unravel. With a final pulse of energy, the vibrant blues of the jump faded, leaving the expanse of regular space around us. A quiet star system stretched before us, its light casting soft shadows across my sister's pale features.

"Finally," Eclipsa muttered, her voice tinged with boredom as always.

I ignored her and lifted my hand, bringing the tiny man closer to my face. I had questions, and this insignificant being would give me answers.

"Now," I said, keeping my voice as low as I could manage. Even so, it rumbled around him like distant thunder. "You will answer my questions."

He turned toward me, and I felt a flicker of surprise. His eyes weren't filled with fear—not entirely, at least. There was something else there, something harder. Confidence, maybe. Conviction. It was impressive for something so small, so weak.

"What questions?" he asked, his voice tiny but steady.

I narrowed my eyes, studying him. "Ever since I first laid eyes on your ship, I've been... disturbed. My mind has been plagued by a sense of déjà vu, as though I've seen it before—or something like it. It's a familiarity that unsettles me, a tug on the edges of my consciousness."

Eclipsa chuckled beside me, floating lazily through the void. "She's right, you know," she said, her voice smug. "I felt it too. Like an itch I can't quite scratch."

I ignored her again, focusing on the man in my hand. He was listening carefully, which I supposed was wise. At least he knew his place.

"There's something about your ship," I continued, my tone sharper now. "Something that stirs my thoughts in a way nothing else has. It makes my heart... flutter."

I hated admitting it, even to myself, but I needed to know why.

He hesitated, then looked up at me. "What are you people?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of challenge. "Your kind, if I'm not mistaken, are called Wanderers?"

The question made me pause. My irritation flared, and I leaned closer, my golden eyes narrowing. "I didn't bring you here to answer your questions," I said, letting just enough force into my voice to send him to his knees.

"Sister," Eclipsa interrupted, drifting closer to my hand.

She smiled down at him, her coyness practically dripping from her tone. "Wanderers. Such a quaint name, isn't it? It's what your kind calls us, but we don't really care. None of us have ever bothered to come up with a name for ourselves."

Her crimson eyes gleamed as she continued, her words slow and deliberate. "As for what we are... Well, that's a mystery even to us. None of us truly know where we come from. What we do know is that, every so often, waves of energy gather somewhere in the galaxy. That energy gains consciousness, takes form, and becomes one of us."

I stayed silent, letting her explain. She had always been better at weaving words than I was.

"Once we're born, we roam the universe," Eclipsa said, her smirk widening. "Exploring, learning, sometimes destroying, all to pass the time. But over the eons... it gets dull. Boring. Life without purpose tends to do that."

"Boredom?" the man asked, his voice quieter now.

"Exactly," Eclipsa said with a laugh. "We don't need to eat, sleep, or even breathe. We exist, and that's it. Some of us wish for death, though it never comes. So we wander, searching for something—anything—to give us meaning."

I stepped in then, my voice cutting through the void. "I'm no different," I admitted. "Much of my life has been spent searching for something—anything—that could excite me. But it was all meaningless. Until I saw your ship."

His tiny head turned toward me, his expression unreadable.

"You've given me something I haven't felt in millennia," I said. "A reason to care. A spark in the endless dark. That makes you important in ways you can't imagine."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There is nothing more valuable to a Wanderer than entertainment," I explained. "And through you, I sense something deeper—answers to questions we've never been able to ask. Your existence may hold the key to our very being."

Eclipsa nodded, her amusement fading as she added, "That's why you should be worried, little man. Sooner or later, every Wanderer will learn of you. And when they do..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

He swallowed hard, his face pale. "Well... shit," he muttered.

I couldn't help but smile, just a little. This tiny being—this "man"—was remarkable in his own way. And whether he understood it or not, he had become the most important thing in the universe.