Wanderer Ch 21: The Talk With A Titan

(Thalassa)

The little white ship was finally here, resting in front of me, impossibly small. I had spent so long chasing it, crossing galaxies and tearing through entire systems, yet seeing it now felt strangely surreal. I almost couldn't believe this tiny vessel was the source of all our trouble. For something that had driven me to the brink, it seemed so fragile, so easy to crush with a thought.

Then, I heard it—a faint, tinny voice crackling through the quiet, a man's voice. I hadn't expected to feel anything at hearing it, but for some reason, it felt strange, almost surreal.

Eclipsa was already reaching for it, her fingers moving in, pinching the little craft between her thumb and forefinger. The metal crumpled slightly beneath the pressure, and I felt a flare of irritation spark up in me.

"Careful," I warned her sharply, keeping my gaze locked on her. She just grinned, as calm and infuriatingly amused as ever.

"Don't worry, don't worry. I won't crush the little thing," she cooed, bringing it to her eye, as if she could really see it up close that way. Her smirk softened into something almost wicked as she extended her hand, placing the ship gingerly in my open palm.

I stared down at the tiny thing, barely the size of a speck of dust to me. I could hardly believe this was what I'd come all this way for. I felt a flicker of irritation again and, keeping my tone steady, commanded, "Come out."

A small, hesitant voice replied, "B-but I won't be able to breathe."

I let out a soft sigh, hiding a hint of amusement. "Don't worry. With my power, you'll be safe." I willed the space around him to support his life, a faint shimmer wrapping around the ship.

A hatch opened, barely visible at this scale, and the faintest movement caught my eye. I leaned in closer, focusing, and finally, I saw him—a figure smaller than the tip of my nail. There he stood, the source of all of this trouble, as insignificant as dust. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face as I whispered, "Finally."

***

(Jack)

Standing on her palm felt like standing on the surface of some strange, uncharted world. Her hand stretched out farther than my eyes could follow, and the gentle curves of her skin rose like hills and valleys. I had no idea where her fingers ended or where her wrist began; it was just an endless landscape of flesh beneath me. How big was she? The word "big" didn't even seem to cover it. How long would it take to cross this hand alone? Days? Weeks? More?

I looked up—way, way up—where her face hovered miles above me, like a distant mountain range. I could barely make out her features. Her eyes glowed with an intensity that was as unsettling as it was mesmerizing. And she wasn't alone; her sister, with her dark hair that floated like cosmic rivers, stood nearby, her presence just as overwhelming, just as inhuman. A single strand of that hair could probably crush me and my entire ship in one careless swing.

"What do you want from me?" I managed, my voice tiny, barely a whisper against the sheer vastness of her palm, but she heard me, somehow.

Her eye blinked—just once, but it was like watching the heavens shift. The air around me trembled with her voice as she spoke. The vibration from her words rolled through me, almost shaking me apart. "To understand..." The rumbling was so deep it felt like my bones might shatter. "To understand where the deepest part of my soul is drawn."

Drawn? What did that even mean?

I stared up at her, the fear fading just a little, replaced by something stranger, harder to define. She was beyond reason, beyond sense, and yet... something about her expression, as vast and incomprehensible as it was, almost looked... curious.

"W-what?" I stammered, barely hearing my own voice over the ringing in my ears.

The edges of her lips turned upward in something like a smile, a gentle curve that carried the force of a landslide, and I was left staring, as small and insignificant as a speck of dust, trying to fathom what could possibly drive a being like her across the stars, just to find me.

The world—the massive palm I was standing on—trembled as Thalassa shifted slightly, her gaze still fixed on me. I couldn't even see her full face, just one glowing golden eye staring down with a terrifying mix of curiosity and something I couldn't quite place. And then it happened: a flash of orange light streaked past me, smashing into her cheek.

The beam of energy didn't even faze her. It didn't leave a scratch, a mark—nothing. It just... bounced off. She didn't even blink, didn't so much as flinch.

I turned, trying to find the source of the attack, and then I heard it—a familiar voice cutting through the vastness.

"Leave him alone!"

My heart jumped. "Ko Jaro!" I yelled, spinning in place, my voice cracking as panic and relief clashed in my chest.

In the distance, no bigger than a firefly, I spotted it—his ship. It zipped forward, orange energy bolts spraying towards Thalassa's towering figure like a futile hailstorm.

But she didn't even acknowledge it at first. Didn't turn her head, didn't change her expression. She just stood there, her presence alone eclipsing anything my mind could process.

Then, with a low, rumbling sigh that made her entire body hum, she finally moved.

"How annoying," she muttered under her breath. Her words weren't meant for anyone but herself, yet the sound rolled through the air like thunder, sending shivers down my spine.

Her free hand—the one not holding me—rose. Slowly at first, her fingers outstretched, blotting out the stars as they moved. Each digit was a mountain, each joint a range. The scale was impossible, incomprehensible. And it was all aimed at Ko Jaro.

"Die," she said simply. Her voice carried such finality that it felt like the universe itself obeyed her command.

"No!" I screamed, my voice cracking as panic surged through me. My legs moved before my brain caught up, though where I thought I was going on this endless surface, I had no idea. I could only watch as her hand surged forward.

"Ko Jaro!" I yelled, my voice shaking as I watched her enormous appendage—bigger than anything my mind could comprehend—barrel toward the tiny gnat of a ship that was my only friend in this galaxy.

The speed was terrifying. It was so fast, yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her hand, impossibly vast, cutting through the void of space. Ko Jaro's ship darting and weaving like an insect, its orange beams firing uselessly into the abyss of her skin.

"Ko Jaro!" I shouted again, louder this time, as if sheer willpower could stop what was about to happen.