The Nibiru Effect

Memory 86

My confidence is at an all-time high. Not only is the future my older self spoke of unchanged, but I also mastered my shifting, which means rescuing my friends should be a piece of cake. My optimism increases even further when I reach the intersection I believed lost mere minutes after parting ways with my hooded mentor.

My good humour diminishes when I encounter a cave-in, but my new ability allows me to bypass the rubble with ease. Getting my torch and travel pack through is slightly more complicated—my clothes become a part of me when I shift, but everything else remains unaffected—but I manage it with little difficulty. Mere minutes after reaching the cave-in, I'm on my way once more.

Was that what my older self meant when he said I would have to master my shifting in order to save my friends?

Without my new talent, I never would have made it past the cave-in, and my friends' fate would be sealed. The further I progress, the more my future self's enigmatic words make sense. Perhaps I truly am a hero.

The trek through the Mountain of Fire stretches on for an indefinable amount of time. Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? I can't tell. Nor does it matter. All I can do is follow the instructions included on Korri's map and hope my friends are still alive by the time I reach them.

The next landmark I encounter is the Celestial Cave. It's beautiful but perplexing.

A starry night sky. That's what I see when I look up. But how can that be? I'm deep underground. Aren't I?

The sense of confusion persists until I notice the walls are equally alive with glowing dots. Curious, I approach the nearest one and soon uncover the truth.

They're not stars. They're glowworms. Millions upon millions of glowworms. Some are tiny, no bigger than a gnat. Others are as big as my balled up fist. They shed such light the entire cavern is bathed in a soft white glow. But they're not the only things that shine.

The vast lake that lies nearby glows with even more brilliance than the worms. Entranced by such beauty, I stumble forward, determined to explain the odd phenomenon. It's not until I reach the shoreline and it starts raining that I finally understand the true nature of the glowing liquid.

"Oh no," I groan. "It's poop!"

I'm afraid to look up, but I can't resist. One quick look is enough to confirm my suspicions. Like the glowworms producing them, the excrements vary in size and brilliance. The only things they have in common is their lack of odour and taste—please don't ask how I know this.

I should be repulsed, but the truth is I'm not. After the first few minutes, I'm drenched, and one more drop no longer makes a difference. Still, I'm looking forward to putting all this crap behind me.

I retrieve the map Korri gave me and examine it. There should be a rowboat nearby, but all I see are glowing boulders. I walk the shoreline in both directions but find nothing. I'm just about to give up when I finally find it.

The rowboat was flipped upside down, thus tricking me into believing it was another poop-covered boulder. I passed by it three times before finally recognizing it for what it truly is. While nearly fatal to my progression, it will ensure I begin my journey across the lake in an excrement-free environment.

Rowing in and of itself is hard, but the vicious nature of the worm excrement makes the process even more difficult. Before long, I'm covered in sweat—and worm poop—and desperate for the journey to end. Unfortunately, I have only crossed a fraction of the distance I need to cover.

I keep rowing. And rowing. And rowing. The going is slow, but at least I'm getting one hell of a workout. Not to mention the fact that the gelatinous nature of the worm excrement keeps me from tipping over. The ground could shake, and I would still be safe. Of course, no sooner has the thought occurred to me than it becomes a reality.

"Oh no!" I groan as the once calm surface of the lake becomes agitated. Waves crash upon my tiny vessel, splashing me with poop. I'm not afraid of tipping, though the thought of taking a dip is too horrifying to ignore. Unfortunately, the odds of me going for a swim grow exponentially when the intensity of the earthquake shatters the ceiling.

Stone fragments rain down around me. Some glow, some don't. Most land at a safe distance, but a few splash down dangerously close to my boat. It doesn't take long before I'm drenched in worm poop from head to toe. But that's not what worries me. The true cause for my trembling limbs is the knowledge that one hit is all it will take to sink my boat. While I'm a decent swimmer, there's no way I can reach the edge of the lake, especially not with such a dense liquid working against me.

I close my eyes and wait out the storm. Against all odds, not a single stone fragment hits the rowboat. I guess it pays to accept your destiny.

"Phew!" I sigh once the last few fragments have splashed down. "That was close."

Unfortunately, I have verylittle time to rejoice as an ear-splitting shriek suddenly fills the air. I'mnot sure what kind of creature is capable of making such a horrific noise, butwhatever it is, it's angry. And close.