Damn the Maker.

She talks nothing but gibberish. Strange symbols, cryptic images. Gone are the days in which she made sense. I was a fool to think she could help me now.

It’s been many dark nights since I found comfort in her embrace.

I just hoped that things might be different now. With Ava arriving, the grey box, her talk of slaving aliens… I needed something to hold on to. Something that could give me guidance, to tell me what to do.

Ava looks up to me, and I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want her to know that I’m as clueless as she is — if not more. I never expected her arrival. The Maker has shown me images, long ago, of a world filled with Zorans and humans… but I thought those were of days long gone.

In my heart, I thought I was alone in the universe.

Coming to grips with this new reality is difficult. I love Ava — I love her scent, her taste, the feel of her body wrapped around mine, the magical, wonderful things she can do to my body… but I find it hard to open up to her.

There are so many things I want to ask her. To tell her. To show her. But there’s something that’s holding me back, some fear I have never experienced before.

I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed when she sees I’m not infallible. I’m addicted to the admiration in her eyes when I do something as simple as hunt an animal or prepare dinner. I don’t want to break that spell.

Deep down I know I’ll have to, sooner or later.

The twin suns are setting, painting the sky different hues of orange and pink. Dark peaks in the distance stand up like jagged teeth, stopping the immense, sprawling forest. My eyes travel down towards the small, still lake, where Ava ought to be waiting for me.

I don’t see a sign of her.

Strange.

I pick up my pace as I descend, my mind working in overdrive. Did she wonder off? Did a Taku grab her? They never venture so close to the hill, but they could have followed our scent, waited for me to leave…

My heart is racing as I rush down. I’ve been a fool! Leaving my mate alone, unguarded! The wonderful feeling she gives have lulled me into a false sense of security.

I stop dead in my tracks when I pick up her scent — right here, on the hill. She came this way recently, for her smell is still fresh. Did she ignore my command and follow me?

I whirl around and follow her tracks, confused and angry. Before I reach the top, I hear her voice calling out my name.

“Turnon! Turnon!”

There’s an urgency in her voice I haven’t heard before. I rush up, twigs breaking under my feet, grabbing my knife from its pouch. Did she disturb the Maker?! I’ve seen her mouths turn Taku to dust and obliterate a pack of Panit in the blink of an eye.

I told her to stay away!

If she angered the Maker there is nothing I can do. She will be dead long before I even get close.

Yet I have to try.

I use every bit of strength I have as I dash up the hill, twigs whipping against me, kicking up dirt with every forceful step. When I reach the top of the hill I see Ava trying to climb her way out of the crater. I jump in with both feet and rush towards her.

“What’s wrong?!” I growl as my eyes dart around — but there’s nothing there. No predators. The Maker’s mouth is not spitting fire either.

She falls into my arms, laughing.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she laughs. “The opposite, in fact! I have such good news!”

I frown, my knife held up high.

“What do you mean?!” I growl, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “Why did you cry out for me? Why are you here, in fact? I told you to wait! You could have died!”

Ava has a big smile plastered on her face. It now dawns on me that her cry wasn’t one of fear or desperation — it was one of joy.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry, but you’re going to be glad I didn’t listen, trust me!”

She’s talking so fast I can barely follow her.

“Slow down.” I slip my knife back into the pouch “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Then you better sit down before I blow your mind,” Ava laughs. “Go on, sit.”

I don’t like the feeling of being completely in the dark. I follow her instructions and rest my back against the slope of the crater.

“Go on,” I growl. “What are you talking about?”

“That thing,” she says as she points towards the Maker. “That is the Maker, right?”

“Correct,” I growl, already feeling offended she referred to my life-giver as a thing.

“It’s more than that. It’s a spaceship!”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember the shuttle I arrived in?”

“The grey box.”

“Yes! It was part of a ship. The Maker is a spaceship as well — a Zoran one. You crash-landed here onboard of her, when you were still a baby!”

My frown deepens. I place my hand on her forehead to check her temperature — sounds like Iilaki fever talking.

“Did you eat the yellow flower?” I ask.

She slaps my hand away, still grinning.

“I know I sound crazy to you, but it’s true, trust me!”

“Impossible!” I growl. “The Maker is nothing like that grey box! The box was empty, barren, grey, cold! The Maker is nothing like that!”

“That’s because it’s a Zoran ship, instead of a Nezdek one,” Ava says. “And overtime the Zoran ship has become overgrown with vines and plants, but trust me, there’s a spaceship underneath all of that.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I entered her,” she says with a bright smile.

“You WHAT?!”

My heart-rate is jacked up instantly. The holiest place imaginable — and she strides in without a care in the world. The Maker has closed herself off to me years ago, and I interpreted it as a sign I had to mature. Become a man. I set out and carved out an existence, relying on nothing else but my own two fists and the tools I could create with them.

And this human just strides right in?!

“How could you?!” I say, losing my temper. “I told you to stay!”

“Calm down,” Ava says, “I’m not done!”

“Oh, you are done!” I say, rising to my feet. “We are done.”

That wide smile finally disappears from her face, and the sad look in her hazelnut brown eyes makes my heart break.

“W-what?”

“You ignored my very explicit commands. You went behind my back, and now you’re telling me you know the Maker better than I do? “

As the words leave my mouth I already know my arguments are weak. I’m seething with rage… because I feel weak. Powerless. The human knows more than I do, even when it comes to the Maker.

I’m useless.