Above a young Drade, Earth could be seen, half its surface visible from the moon’s surface. In front of him, shielding him, was Greta. Her hair was silver, with a tint of blue reflected from the earthlight. She breathed heavily, scared and nervous.

Because in front of her was It, the Eldritch.

“Give me him,” It said.

“Never!” Greta yelled, holding her hands in front of herself.

“I will count to ten. Hand me my great-grandchild, or your death will be imminent.”

“D-don’t take me for a coward!”

“One.” Its voice that wasn’t a voice reverberated across the moon, haunting the few souls living on its bare surface.

“I swore to protect him from you...and-and I will not-”

“Two.”

“I-I don’t...

“Three.”

“Auntie, why is that thing looking at me?”

“I-you can see it?” Greta asked with a concerned glance towards her friend’s son.

“It...it looks pretty scary,” Drade said with no hint of fear, shuffling his foot boredly to and fro on the grey moon rock.

“Four.”

Greta faced It once more. “What will you do with him?”

“A strange question. Five.”

“Who is he to you?”

“The vessel. Should he live, your planet may perish by their hands. Consider my intervention an act of mercy. Six.”

“Destroy...earth?”

“Yes. Ask him, can he feel a presence buried within his soul?”

“D-Drade?”

Drade innocently locked eyes with Greta. “He’s right, but I can contain it.”

Greta’s eyes widened, fear plastered on her face. “Y-you mean...”

“There’s a thing inside of me. It wants out.”

“N-no...” Greta looked at the child as if she had been betrayed, though not by him.

“Don’t worry, I can keep it in. As long as I don’t fear, it can’t come out.”

“Seven.”

“I-I don’t...” Greta looked between the two eldritch beings, uncertain and afraid.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?” It replied.

“Can you trust me? Mom says I shouldn’t want to die, and I think she’s right.”

“...Trust...What is...trust?”

“Believe what I say, with no evidence.”

“No...evidence? Beleive? Cannot comprehend.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Don’t...need to comprehend?”

“No, grandpa. I will be fine on my own.” Drade looked up, watching earth spin with contemplativeness.

“No, you should not be. Cannot comprehend n o n c o m p r e h e n s i on,” It spelled out the word as if it shouldn’t exist.

Drade walked to It and placed a hand on It. As he did, reality began to break, glitching as if a matrix as magic around the universe grew stale and ineffective. Calamities untold for eons struck the universe as time itself unraveled, darkness consuming the world in an endless hunger for chaos as two entities never meant to interact touched.

Greta panicked as a meteor large enough to destroy the world approached Earth, held her hands up, and strained herself, using her immense control of gravity to stop its descent from hundreds of thousands of miles away. She wasn’t enough, however.

The It responded to Drade’s affectionate touch with understanding. “Noncomprehension. How fascinating. Trust. How fascinating. Belief. How fascinating. You are fascinating, grandson. Your comprehension of non-comprehension is amazing. Your dissonance is amazing. Your existence is amazing.”

“Then can you trust me, grandpa?”

“Yes.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” It disappeared, returning the world to what would have been its natural state as if nothing had happened.

Drade turned to face Greta. “I’m hungry. Can we get to the shack?”

She let out a deep breath, letting out enough air for all of humanity to exhale. Then, she stared at Drade, realizing the truth of his existence.

Those cold, deep eyes. That voice of restrained happiness. His moderation and nihilism. As it all began to make sense, Greta’s eyes narrowed with fear. The kid wasn’t strange just because of his heritage. It was because he had to be.

If he wasn’t, the universe would be in danger, and she couldn’t do anything about it but trust him.

That was the day Greta first truly feared someone she loved.