Memory 50

3 1 0
                                        

What the hell was I thinking?" I mutter to myself as I amble down the deserted street. I knew I made a mistake the moment Jonn agreed to my insane plan, but by then it was too late. I couldn't back down without looking like a coward, so I pretended as though I had mastered the art of shifting. I managed to convince my companions I needed time to prepare, so we all agreed to spend the rest of the day perfecting our plan. By nightfall, we had come up with a strategy we were—for the most part—confident would succeed.

The plan was simple. Step one: We would wait until morning and take advantage of the shift change to isolate one of the palace guards and knock him out. Step two: I would take the guard's appearance and use the borrowed form to trick the other sentries into believing I was one of them. Step three: I would pretend to have captured Jonn and Kara trying to sneak into the palace and request an audience with King Kanto—AKA Avalon. Step four: Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what Jonn plans on doing with Avalon once we find her, but I can tell she won't enjoy it. It's a good plan except for one small detail.

I can't shift.

I waited all night long, hoping my mentor would come and teach me the art of shifting, but he never showed up. By morning, I was both exhausted and terrified. For the first time in my life, I was in a position to help a lot of people, yet I was unable to do so because I couldn't control my mysterious shifting abilities. I guess Jonn was right. I am useless.

I'm debating whether or not I should return to our improvised campsite and come clean when someone grabs me from behind. I try to scream, but a hand clamps down on my lips, silencing me. I struggle to break free, but my attacker is both strong and surprisingly skilled. My arm is twisted in such a manner I have no choice but to respond to my assaulter's every whim.

My captor steers me toward the nearest abandoned dwelling. We come to a halt before the residence's main door.

"Open it," growls a familiar voice. I do as I'm told and soon find myself stumbling forward into the dark, dusty bowels of the house. I hesitate for a moment before turning around. The door is now closed, so it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. When they finally do, a broad smile appears on my lips.

Standing before me, less than a metre away, is the very man I've been so desperate to find.

The hooded stranger.

The Nibiru EffectWhere stories live. Discover now