The Evil That Came

Part 1.5: The Kiss and the Keeper

Greg O'Dunn, a lone sentinel in the cavern, looked up and around at the children; most were asleep, but those who weren't stared at him intensely. Greg walked to his ship, some yards away. The soft warmth of the blankets, drawn from the vessel that had carried him through the cosmic expanse, enveloped the children. 

Greg ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. His training had prepared him for the vacuum of space, not the role of a guardian. And yet, fate had placed him here, entrusted with a fractured kingdom and two young souls whose memories held generations upon generations of knowledge. Greg sat down where Hyva's body still lay and cried. He barely knew her but felt an undeniable connection. His gaze drifted to the children huddled together, their large, red eyes wide with fear and confusion, crying, shaking, and shell-shocked. What did they understand? Did they know their kingdom was gone? Did they have any idea of the legacy they carried within them? 

 Greg's mind raced: integration, acceptance, survival. Earth was a mosaic of cultures, but would it welcome these otherworldly beings? Would they be seen as saviors or threats?

As the night wore on, Greg's thoughts spiraled. Viktor—the boy—loomed like a shadow. What legacy did his father leave? What darkness slept within him? Greg vowed to protect, to guide, but the uncertainty made his stomach churn.

He also worried about the immediate danger determining Hyva's kingdom's fate. That's when Greg thought about the paper Hyva wrote, in which she explained everything. Greg put on his helmet and translated the alien script through the visor. The first line stated: "Their names are Victoria and Viktor. They are 1 and 3 Puian years old. I gave them human names because I had time to think about this while waiting for my savior."

Greg's breath hitched. Hyva had given them human names, bridging their two worlds. She had pondered what would happen to them, waiting for her savior. Then, as if it was a sign, Victoria crawled onto Greg's lap and tried to wrap her little arms around his waist. Greg picked her up and held her in his arms. She looked up at him, and he saw those beautiful green eyes. Then, he looked up again and saw some other kids staring at him with tears in their eyes. He got up and walked over there with Victoria in his arms, and the little boys and girls cuddled around him. At that moment, Greg understood that he was more than an astronaut. He was a bridge, a keeper of memories.

Greg pondered about the Evil That Came that Hyva was referring to. Is it still around? Will it try to harm the rest of the survivors? He couldn't let that happen. Steeling himself, he stepped outside the cave.

Shimmering shards of a crystalline material, once part of magnificent buildings, littered the ground like scattered rubies—no one in sight. The air was eerily quiet, heavy with loss, the silence only broken by the soft breeze of the wind. 

But Greg marched on for a while, and as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a graveyard of a once-thriving civilization. Greg picked up a piece of the rubble. It had the symbol of a triangular double helix on its face, and Greg's sensors determined that it was cool and not warm to the touch, sensing that the Evil That Came was long gone. He found the piece interesting, so he placed it in his pocket. Twisted alien trees lay broken, their vibrant purple leaves long since withered and brown. Where there had once been towering skyscrapers, there were now jagged monoliths of an unknown metal, their smooth surfaces marred by deep gouges and fissures. The Evil That Came left nothing to be desired. All alone, the children and the sentinel. 

The first sliver of pink light crept over the horizon, painting the desolate landscape in soft hues of rose and gold. As dawn approached, a low hum filled the air, growing louder until three sleek EVAC ships descended from the sky, settling silently beside Greg's lone vessel. The I.S.G. had arrived.