The Last Traveler-The past is not just what has happend, it is what must happen.

The Last Dawn/A New Genesis

The creature's onslaught had been quick and merciless. As the dust settled, the world surrounding Vishwas was unrecognizable; nothing remained of the inhabitants who had once inhabited this odd, ancient land. The air was thick with the vile stink of death, and the ground was littered with the remains of shattered lives and destroyed hopes.

Vishwas stumbled through the ruins, his pulse thumping in his chest, looking desperately for signs of life. However, there were none. The people who had come from the sky, the beings that had previously looked up to him with hope and curiosity, had vanished in a single, horrific moment. The knowledge struck him like a blow in the gut: he was alone. The future he had pictured, the one that was intended to happen, had been ripped apart by forces beyond his control.

He found her lying among the debris, injured and bruised but still living. The woman who had spoken first, and appeared to understand more than the rest, was now barely alive. Vishwas knelt alongside her, his mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of which provided any comfort.

"What just happened?" he said to himself, his voice shaking with dread, fury, and sorrow. "This was not supposed to happen." The plan was different. "We were supposed to, but now..." He couldn't continue the idea, the words stopping in his mouth as the gravity of the situation weighed on him.

Vishwas tenderly pulled the woman into his arms, holding her and carrying her away from the tragedy. His mind was filled with emotions such as perplexity, grief, and remorse. How could things have gone so wrong? The future, his future, and humanity's future all appeared to be lost in a matter of moments. Will this be the end of things? Will he never be born, his existence obliterated before it begins?

He located a tiny, secluded area distant from the wreckage and carefully placed her there. She whimpered gently, her eyes flickering wide, revealing the same perplexity and terror that he felt. He knelt alongside her, his voice barely above a whisper as he attempted to make sense of what had occurred.

"Why...why did it happen like this?" he questioned, not expecting a response, but having to express the gnawing question in his spirit. "It was not intended to end like this. "We were supposed to make history, set things right, and ensure the future, but now...

The woman glanced at him, her expression painful yet determined. She didn't have the answers, but the strength in her stare convinced him that they still had a chance, however tiny. He took a deep breath, attempting to stabilize himself and find a glimmer of optimism in the middle of pandemonium.

"We have to find a way," he continued, speaking to himself rather than her. "We cannot give up now. Is there anything we can do? Something that will make things right.

As he spoke, he had a minor but significant understanding that broke through the fog of his sadness. "I never really asked your name," he added, looking at her with a hint of wonder, as if this one simple question held the secret to restoring their humanity.

She hesitated, as if the subject itself was unfamiliar to her, before finally responding, "390A."

The response, so clinical and chilly, sent shivers down his spine. It was a striking reminder of the world they had left behind, a world in which names were numbers and humanity was reduced to labels. He shook his head, a feeling of pity and outrage growing within him.

"No," he said firmly, his voice coated with quiet determination. "You are a human." You deserve a real name, one that signifies anything.

He glanced at her, trying to find the perfect words, the appropriate name, something that would capture the spirit of who she was and her place in what was left of their lives. Then, as if the answer had been waiting all along, the word came to him—a word laden with history and the promise of a fresh beginning.

"Eve," he replied, his voice quiet yet firm. "Your name is Eve."