The Captive Titan [ManxMan]

Chapter Thirty-four: Have Trust

[WARNING: Once again, psychological manipulation (and maybe kind of horror) in the form of dream gaslighting.]

~Chapter Thirty-four: Have Trust~

It is a rare day that I feel like watching the universe that has moved on without me through the bronze eyes of the statue, as even after hundreds of resigned years, there is something about peering into a world I am disconnect from that never fails to tug at the strings in my heart, just enough to ache but not enough to genuinely hurt. It is unpleasant and makes me itch in a way that even were I able to move, I doubt I would be able to do anything about. It is a bone-deep itch, after all.

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"Your mental defenses are quite impressive."

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But beyond the deep itchiness of it and even the ache, it is disheartening.

Because who wants to live in a world that has long forgotten they even exist?

It took many decades for the mortals to recognize me the first time, as my birth was not heralded or foretold; that was simply not my pantheon's way. That besides, even had it been our way, the birth of the magic god would not have been heralded in particular. Not for disregard of magic or lack of magic practitioners but for reasons of safety. After all, a godling has far fewer protections than an older, much wiser god.

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"Maybe...no, that won't work."

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So, it took me a great many years to gain the recognition I eventually gathered, but now I am not even sure this universe knows my name. For surely even my own pantheon has forgotten my name by this point. Gods have fallen through the cracks before, and if hundreds of years truly have passed, then it is likely that I have joined in those forgotten numbers.

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"But this..."

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After all, it is not even a statue of myself that mortals capture still images of in their impossible, flat slabs and gaze in awe at on a daily basis; it is of the betrayer of my heart, a pretender of love, who I believed I had forgiven but have long since come to terms with the idea that the freedom I thought I had and forgiveness I thought had been earned was nothing more than something I imagined in my insanity.

For who would be sane after all these years?

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"Who would, indeed?"

I stare at the endless darkness in incomprehension, not sure what precisely I am seeing but feeling the familiarity of it all the same. And once I realize that I can move, I tilt my head to the side a little to look more closely at the god standing almost directly before me on...air. Yet, I know for a fact that he is no god of wind. He is...

Who is he again?

The god drops his fingers from my face - he was touching me? - as he huffs softly. "That really does a number on you, huh?" He comments, eyeing my face shrewdly. When I just stare at Ep-something in confusion that is slowly starting to clear, he shakes his head and continues speaking, though possibly to himself rather than to me, "As much as I prefer you this way, though, utter mindlessness is not the desired outcome."

"Desired...outcome?" I ask haltingly, unused to vocal cords, despite knowing that I used them fairly recently. Because the last few years have not been a dream - this is. And this god is in control.