Larger Than Life by Neon

The valley was quiet save for the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft babble of the stream. Ava leaned back against the slope of a hill, her knees drawn up as she took in the vast expanse of untouched nature. The cultists were scattered nearby, busying themselves with their tasks or simply observing her from a respectful distance.

Naomi Vasquez approached, her steps soft but deliberate. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” she said, standing close enough to be heard but not intrusively.

Ava glanced at her and nodded. ‘It’s quiet. Almost… normal.’”

Naomi offered a measured smile. “Do you miss normal?”

Ava let out a humorless laugh. “Every second. But I don’t think it’s coming back anytime soon.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment, the weight of Ava’s words hanging in the air. Finally, Naomi tilted her head, her curiosity evident. “Before all of this… what made you happy?”

Ava hesitated, the question catching her off guard. She closed her eyes, searching her memory. “Music,” she said finally. “Performing. Writing songs. It’s the only time I ever felt like… me.”

Naomi’s eyes brightened. “Then why don’t you sing?”

Ava opened her eyes, looking at Naomi as though she’d suggested something absurd. “Sing? Now?”

“Why not?” Naomi said, her tone light but encouraging. “You’re still you, Ava. Even now.”

Ava hesitated, anxiously shifting her focus to the cultists in the distance. They hadn’t noticed the conversation yet, their attention on their tasks.

Taking a deep breath, Ava closed her eyes and began to sing softly. Her voice was low at first, uncertain, but as the melody took shape, it grew stronger, fuller, filling the valley with a haunting beauty.

The cultists froze mid-task, their attention drawn to Ava’s voice. They stood silent, transfixed, the notes weaving through the valley like a spell. Among them, a younger girl—her hazel eyes wide and unblinking—clasped her hands tightly together as though she were praying. Her freckles seemed to catch the sunlight as she looked on with visible appreciation, her breath hitching with every note.

Naomi watched Ava intently, her expression softening as the impromptu performance rolled on. For the first time, she saw not a weapon, not a force of nature, but a woman—vulnerable, yearning, and sincerely human.

When Ava finished, the silence that followed was almost deafening. She opened her eyes, her cheeks flushed as she realized how many people had been listening.

“That was…” Naomi started, but her voice faltered. She cleared her throat and tried again. “That was incredible.”

Ava shrugged, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I still have it.”

Naomi stepped closer, clearing her throat. “You have more than just a gift, Ava. You have a connection to people—one that goes deeper than anything you realize. They don’t just see you as a goddess. They see hope. This moment proves that you’re still you, no matter how much bigger you’ve gotten.”

Ava looked away, unsure how to respond. The vulnerability of the moment was both comforting and overwhelming.

Before she could speak, her stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension. Ava winced, her hand instinctively moving to her midsection.

Naomi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “And here I thought goddesses didn’t need to eat.”

Ava rolled her eyes, but her amusement was evident. “I’m not a goddess, and I haven’t eaten in… I don’t even know how long.”

Naomi’s expression grew serious. “We can help with that. Let us gather what we can.”

Within hours, the cultists returned with their foraged findings. They carried bundles of berries, roots, and even freshly caught fish, the offerings piled high on makeshift sleds they had fashioned from scavenged wood and rope. One young woman distinguished herself among them as the most diligent, carefully arranging the items in neat piles with an intensity that betrayed her nerves.

As the group settled their wares, the woman approached Ava tentatively, her cheeks flushed. “I just wanted to say… I’ve been a fan of yours for years,” she began hurriedly, as if she feared losing the courage to speak. “I saw you perform in Brooklyn when I was sixteen. It was… life-changing. It was right after my parents split up, and I… I didn’t think I’d make it through that year. But your song—‘Breathe Again’—it saved me. It felt like you were singing just for me. Like someone out there understood. That’s why hearing your song just now… it was like being at one of your concerts again, only better.”

Ava blinked, taken aback. She hadn’t thought about ‘Breathe Again’ in years, a song she’d written in her darkest hour. The idea that such a personal song could resonate so deeply with some anonymous girl in the crowd back then had never really occurred to her before.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad it helped. So hold on, you were a fan back then, and you are… still? Like, even now that I’m like this?” she stammered, gesturing generally at herself in disbelief.

The long-time fan nodded, her freckles standing out as she smiled shyly. “You’ve always inspired me. Not just your music, but like… how you owned who you were. You made me feel like I could be strong, too.”

A squall of emotions swirled within Ava as she pondered the words. “Thank you,” she repeated, the words now richly imbued with a sense of gratitude. “That means more than you know.”

Ava watched as they presented their haul, her expression a mix of appreciation and discomfort. Her stomach clenched painfully, the deep, hollow ache like a drumbeat reverberating through her entire frame. Even the thought of the cult’s meager offerings felt as futile as attempting to quench a raging inferno with a teacup of water. It was all the best they could do, and she hated how much she had to rely on them. The giantess crouched low, carefully picking through the pile with her jittery fingers, selecting the least perishable items first. The berries burst on her tongue, their sweetness momentarily dulling the rumbling in her stomach.

Despite the initial relief of eating for the first time in days, each piece of fruit, each meticulously arranged pile of roots, felt like another brick in the wall of obligation they were building around her. They weren’t just feeding her; they were staking a claim on her, and the thought gnawed at her almost as much as the hunger itself.

“This won’t last long,” Ava stated robotically, appearing lost in thought. She glanced at Naomi, who stood nearby. “I need something more sustainable. And I need to find someone who can help me… figure this out.”

Naomi tilted her head, her expression curious. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this,” Ava said, gesturing to her colossal self. “There has to be someone out there—a scientist, a doctor—who can tell me why this happened. Maybe even fix it.”

Naomi’s visage hardened slightly, though she quickly masked it with a cocky smile. “What if it’s not something that needs to be fixed?”

Ava frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Naomi seemed to hesitate, then shook her head. “Never mind. If that’s what you think you need, then we’ll support you. There’s a small town not far from here. Maybe someone there can help.”

The forest stretched around Ava like a living cathedral, its towering trees filtering sunlight through a canopy of green. She moved carefully, her immense strides leaving soft tremors in the earth. The cultists followed at a respectful distance, their pace quickened to keep up with her long steps. The adoring fan from earlier walked near the front of the group, her line of sight drifting to Ava whenever she thought no one was looking.

Ava’s mind wandered as she walked. Singing had stirred memories long buried, fragments of her past life resurfacing like echoes. She thought of stadiums and flashing lights, the crowds that screamed her name. She had lived for those moments—when her voice filled the air and, for a brief time, she felt untouchable.

But there had been darkness too, shadows cast by people she had trusted.

Her thoughts turned to Jason. Even now, the memory of him made her muscles tense. Conditioning, she supposed. He’d been her first serious boyfriend, a fellow musician who had seemed perfect at the start: charming, talented, confident. Over time, that confidence soured into arrogance, and his charm became a blade he honed over time, eventually wielding it against her with malice.

“You’ll never make it without me,” he had said once, his words like venom. “You think that voice is enough? It’s not. On your own, you’re just another pretty face, Ava Nova. Remember that.”

She could still see the smug smirk on his face, hear the dismissive tone that made her feel small as if it had been just yesterday. Jason had belittled her every step of the way: dismissing her ideas, undermining her confidence. When her career began to eclipse his, his insecurity curdled into cruelty, lashing out with words that cut deeper than she’d ever admit.

Ava’s pace slowed as the memories resurfaced, her brow furrowing. Jason was gone, a relic of her past. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Still, the anger simmered under her skin, its heat unshakable. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the present.

As they neared the edge of the forest, the small town came into view. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the faint hum of voices drifted through the trees. The sight made Ava hesitate, her steps faltering as unease coiled in her chest.

Naomi approached her side, her voice tender but steady. “Do you want us to go ahead? Scout it out?”

“No,” Ava replied, her tone clipped. “I’ll handle it.”

The cultists stopped at the forest’s edge, hanging back as Ava stepped into the open. The town was nestled in a valley surrounded by rolling hills, its cobblestone streets and quaint cottages giving it an almost idyllic appearance. But as Ava stepped closer, people screamed, scattering like leaves in the wind. Doors slammed, windows shuttered.

Ava winced, her stomach twisting at the sight. She hated this reaction—hated being seen as a monster. She had hoped this place might be different, but it was playing out just like back in the city.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone!” the blond titaness called out, her voice reverberating back to her off the hills like a sonic boomerang. Her size inadvertently made her words feel like a warning, no matter how much she tried to soften her tone and volume.

It was then that she heard it—the triggering sound of shouting, angry and venomous, cutting through the chaos.

“You stupid bitch! How many times do I have to tell you—”

The voice petrified Ava in place. It was male, deep and slurred with rage. Her sharp eyes locked on a small house near the town square. A man stood in the doorway, his hand raised as if to strike a woman cowering before him.

Ava’s vision blurred with sudden, hot anger. The man’s voice—specifically his tone—was all too familiar. Jason’s voice echoed in her mind, his reached words from the past blending with the stranger’s in a cruel symphony.

“You’ll never make it without me.”
“You’re nothing without me.”
“Know your place.”

Something snapped inside her.

Ava’s steps quickened, each one shaking the earth beneath her feet as she closed the distance to the small house. Her pulse thundered in her ears, a thunderhead of rage and reverie consuming her thoughts. She barely noticed the terrified townspeople scattering in her wake like beetles. All she could see was the man standing in the doorway, his hand still raised, his face twisted with fury.

“Hey!” Ava’s voice boomed, echoing through the valley like a crack of thunder. The man froze, his head snapping up toward her. His expression shifted from anger to wide-eyed terror as Ava’s shadow fell over him.

The woman cowering behind him staggered back, her face streaked with tears. Ava’s sharp senses trained themselves to the bruise darkening her cheek and the way she clutched at her arms as though trying to disappear into herself.

The man stepped forward, his bravado returning just enough to mask his fear.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted up at Ava, his voice trembling yet defiant.

Ava’s jaw clenched. “I think I’m stopping you,” she countered. “Leave her alone.” A couple tense seconds of silence crept by.

“This isn’t your business!” he shot back, though his bravado cracked at the edges. He looked around as though expecting backup, but the street was empty, all townspeople having fled the moment Ava arrived.

Ava stepped closer, her sheer presence demanding his acknowledgement with its size and power. “It is now,” she said coldly, her voice like a rumble of distant thunder.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” the man spat, his bravado teetering on the edge of collapse. “Big-time Hollywood whore who got bigger than she bargained for, right? So what are you gonna do next? Stomp me flat? Go ahead! Show everyone here what a monster you really are!”

Ava’s temper snapped. She bent down impulsively, her hand shooting out to grab him. Her fingers plucked him effortlessly off the ground. He screamed, thrashing against her grip, but it was useless.

“Let me go!” he yelled, his voice rising to a shrill pitch. “You’re crazy! You– you can’t do this!”

Ava held him aloft, her arm trembling as the weight of her rage fought against her self-control.
“Do you really think you can just hurt people because you feel like it?” she growled, her voice low and filled with fury. “You think there are no fucking consequences?!”

The man’s struggles weakened as her grip tightened. His face reddened, and his breaths came in sharp, panicked gasps. “I’m sorry!” he choked out. “I’m sorry, okay? Just let me go!”

Ava’s glare burned into him, the memories of her past swirling in her mind. The belittling comments. The dismissive sneers. The feeling of being trapped in a toxic relationship with someone who saw her as nothing more than a tool for their own gain. This man wasn’t Jason—but he was close enough.

Her grip tightened further, and the man let out a strangled cry. The power she held in her hand was intoxicating, overwhelming. It would be so easy to end him, to snuff out his pathetic existence like a flickering candle. No one on Earth was in any position to deny her this justice.

But she wasn’t that person. Was she? Hadn't there been enough killing in the forest? That was only self defense, but this… this would truly be murder.

With a deep breath, Ava forced herself to loosen her grasp. The man fell to the ground in a heap, coughing and gasping for air.

“Get out of here,” Ava said, her voice shaking with the effort of reining herself in. “And if I ever see you hurt anyone again...” She let the threat hang in the air, her shadow casting him in abject darkness.

The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his side as he stumbled away hastily without a word.

As she watched the man stumble away, a pang of guilt sliced through her anger. The power in her hands had been both intoxicating and frightening. Was she shielding that woman—or trying to convince herself she wasn’t the monster others saw?

Ava exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as she looked down at the woman who had been cowering by the house since the ordeal began. She knelt carefully, lowering herself to the woman’s level to achieve some semblance of a disarming presence.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked delicately.

The woman swiftly nodded, her wide eyes displaying an uneven medley of fear and gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered tersely, still in too much shock to say more.

Ava offered her a small, tentative smile. “You’re safe now,” she said before standing again, towering protectively over the woman like a monument of a hero that had sprung to life. She may not have found anyone to help her, but at least she had been there to help someone else.

From the edge of the treeline, the cultists emerged one by one, their faces alight with awe. As the group met Ava, their whispers of reverence floated on the breeze. She wondered how closely they had monitored her actions at the town. The answer came quickly.

“She saved that poor woman,” an older man declared, awe thick in his voice.

Another added, “A true protector.”

The words sparked conflicting feelings within Ava. Was this what it felt like to be deified? To have your every action reinterpreted as something divine?

Naomi was at the forefront, her dark eyes gleaming with pride as she approached Ava, flanked by a lithe young woman with brown wavy hair and freckled cheeks. Ava recognized her as the same one who had spearheaded the project of foraging food for her before.

“That was incredible,” Naomi said, her voice reverent.

Ava frowned, glancing down at her hands. “I almost killed him,” she muttered.

“Yet, you didn’t,” Naomi countered, stepping closer. “You chose mercy. You chose justice.” She gestured toward the townspeople who had cautiously begun to reemerge, their whispers filling the air. “Look at them. You gave them hope.”

Ava shifted in clear discomfort, studying the ground. “I don’t know if this is what I want to be,” she admitted.

Naomi smiled warmly, her expression softening. “Sometimes, what we want doesn’t matter. What matters is what we can do. And you, Ava, can do so much.”

The young brunette stepped forward, holding a carefully wrapped bundle in her arms. “We made this for you,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. She unwrapped the bundle to reveal a flowing garment stitched together from sheets and tarps, a patchwork that must've taken hours to complete.

Ava hesitated, taking in the sight of Naomi, the young woman, and the garment. “You made this?”

The young woman nodded, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “I... I helped. My name’s Caylin. I don’t think I mentioned it before when you sang. Naomi said it was important to honor you properly, and that we should start introducing ourselves to you.”

Naomi placed a hand on Caylin’s shoulder, a proud smile on her face. “Caylin worked harder than anyone to bring this vision to life. She believes in you as much as I do.”

Ava reached out slowly, her still-nervous fingers brushing against the fabric. It was soft, lighter than she expected. She held it up, the makeshift robe billowing in the breeze. It felt impossibly soft, almost fragile in contrast to her towering strength.

Naomi stepped closer, her voice low and persuasive. “You don’t have to decide everything right now. Just accept this humble token of our appreciation. Let us help you figure out what comes next.”

Ava nodded slowly, her resolve softening as she processed the gift. Draping it over her shoulders, she realized it represented more than just clothing—it was their belief in her, tangible and weighty. She wasn’t sure she could carry it, but she had no choice but to try. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her feel… human.

A wave of cheers rose from the cultists as the garment settled over her shoulders, their voices rippling through the valley. Ava forced a smile, but the sound made her shoulders tense. The cheers felt uncomfortably familiar. Once, she’d craved the adoration of strangers, the roar of the crowd fueling her like oxygen. However, this was different—this wasn’t admiration; it was faith, heavier and far more fragile. Faith could shatter if you faltered. Caylin beamed with pride as she looked up at Ava. From the edge of the forest, she stood transfixed, her hands clasped tightly.

“She’s amazing,” Caylin whispered to no one in particular, her voice dripping with awe.

For the first time, Ava allowed herself to smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice carrying warmth and gratitude.

Naomi stepped back, with a thoughtful look filled with quiet satisfaction. “This is just the beginning, Ava. Together, we’ll change everything.” The enigmatic woman’s gaze lingered on Ava as the cheers continued, a satisfied glint in her dark eyes. “You’re already changing the world,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Ava looked down at the group gathered around at her feet. Their belief in her was overwhelming, but it was also… comforting. For now, she thought, this is enough. Like the first step toward a larger journey.

Ava leaned back against a rock formation at the edge of the valley, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she stared at the vast expanse of stars above. Her newly adorned figure—the simple, minimalist garments woven by the cultists—felt strange against her skin. It was somewhere between a comfort and a burden. She couldn’t deny the warmth of gratitude she felt toward them, but the deeper implications of their devotion still troubled her.

The pop star’s thoughts drifted back to the confrontation in the town. The man’s haughty sneer. His insults. The way his words had mirrored those of her ex during their worst moments as a couple. The same venomous tone, the same cruel disregard. She could still feel the fading heat of her anger, the tremble of her hands as she’d restrained herself from doing what Naomi might have wanted.

Would it have been justice? Or just a reflection of what they expected her to be?

The faint patter of footsteps drew her attention, interrupting Ava's muse. She turned to see Naomi approaching, her face displaying an unreadable mix of pride and determination. Behind her, Caylin followed, her steps light and eager. Her deep reverence radiated through her every movement.

“You’ve proven so much today,” Naomi said softly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Your strength, your mercy, your wisdom. You’ve shown them—shown us all—that you’re more than they could ever understand.”

Ava shifted uncomfortably, observing Caylin, who stood at Naomi’s side like a loyal shadow. The younger woman’s hands fidgeted constantly, twisting a strand of her wavy hair as though her nerves had a mind of their own. She twisted the hem of her shirt, each jittery movement laced with unspoken tension. Her voice, when she spoke, carried a surprising steadiness in contrast to the overall neurotic demeanor.

“I didn’t do it for them,” Ava said after a long pause. “I did it because it was right.”

“And that,” Naomi said, stepping closer, “is why you’re ready.”

Ava frowned. “Ready for what?”

Naomi gestured to the gathered cultists in the distance, their campfires glowing faintly against the darkened hills. “Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate you. Not just for what you’ve done, but for what you represent. For the hope you’ve given us.” Her words hung in the air like a promise she knew Ava couldn’t refuse. She smiled then, small and knowing, her dark eyes holding a glint of satisfaction—as if she were already certain of the path Ava would take.

Caylin stepped forward then, her voice timid and trembling with emotion. “It’s m-more than just a celebration,” she said, her words tumbling out quickly. “It’s… a way to show our devotion. To you. To your cause.”

“What does that mean?” Ava asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

Naomi placed a hand on Caylin’s shoulder, silencing her. “You’ll see soon enough,” Naomi said, her tone calm and deliberate. “It’s a sacred act. One that will bring everything into focus.”

Caylin was teeming with anxious excitement, her eyes darting between Ava and Naomi as though she struggled against a secret too big to keep.

Ava’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“That’s because you still think too small. You may not like the sound of it now," Naomi said, her voice dropping into a soothing cadence, "but the truth has a way of finding you when you’re ready to hear it. I know you’re ready, Ava. One step at a time. Tomorrow… tomorrow, you’ll see the truth,” she said sagely. Something lurking in her tone betrayed a hint of calculation Ava hadn’t noticed before.

As the two women turned to leave, Caylin hesitated, her freckled face still flushed from the excitement of the day's events. “Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling. “For… everything.”

Before Ava could respond, the young acolyte scrambled to catch up with Naomi, leaving Ava alone under the stars. She stared after them, uncertainty welling up in her stomach like a slow-burning ember. The notable suppression in Caylin’s voice lingered in her mind, mingling with Naomi’s cryptic words.

The celebration loomed ahead, its meaning cloaked in shadows and Naomi’s cryptic promises. The woman’s words lingered in Ava’s mind as she stared at the stars. There had been something too assured in her tone, too pleased, as if she knew a truth Ava hadn’t yet grasped. It made her skin prickle. The cool night air carried the faint scent of smoke from the cult’s campfires, mingling with Ava’s unease. She closed her eyes. The stars above offered no answers, only cold indifference.

Ava sighed, the weight of Naomi’s words hanging ominously in her mind like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Tomorrow would bring clarity—or chaos. Perhaps both. When it came, Ava vowed she would face it on her own terms.