The Nibiru Effect

Memory 87

A blood-curdling shriek fills the air. Dread creeps up my spine like a spider up its web. My hands grip the oars tightly, turning my knuckles white. My breathing is short and shallow, and my heart races within my ribcage. My eyes dart from side to side, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. Only the wailing of the unknown creature.

At first, I think the cries are that of anger, but I soon realize they are, in fact, screeches of pain. The more I listen, the less afraid I am. The shrieks come from a static location, which means the odds of me being attacked are slim. Still, it's with a certain degree of unease that I resume my journey.

I travel across the vast expanse of glowing poop for a while before it becomes apparent I'm headed toward whatever creature produces those horrific wails of agony. I debate whether or not to take a detour, but seeing how it would prolong the journey by at least a few hours, I opt against it.

I keep going until the cries sound so close they seem to come from all directions at once. I pause every few metres and scan my surroundings, but all I see is an endless expanse of glowing poop. Or so I think until I spot it.

It's an island.

The intensity of the wails proves the creature producing them is marooned on the small landmass. While the logical thing to do would be to ignore the pain-stricken shrieks and continue my journey, my curiosity far outweighs my logic. Mere minutes later, my boat is washing up on shore.

The island is small—roughly a dozen meters in diameter—and devoid of all but stones and pebbles. At the very centre of the landmass is a creature the likes of which I have never seen. It's reptilian, yet it's unlike any dinosaur I have encountered thus far. A single word explodes within my head at the sight of it.

Dragon.

I have seen many things of late, but this is by far the most astonishing. Dinosaurs? Fine. Giant insects? Whatever. But dragons? Come on. Aren't they supposed to be mythical creatures?

I take a moment to study the scaled creature. It's small—at least for a dragon—and rather frail-looking. It's black as charcoal, but its eyes glow orange like embers. A row of protruding scales lines the ridge of its back and travels along the entire length of its narrow tail. Two massive wings jut from its frame. Its snout is long and thin, but the horns that erupt from its upper cranium fully make up for it. The final detail I take into account is the intensity with which the beast stares at me.

The glowing eyes follow my every move. This, combined with the fact the pained wails have ceased bodes ill for my survival.

"I-I mean you no harm," I croak, but my attempt at civility only agitates the dragon further. It opens its maw, revealing a row of vicious-looking teeth. By the time I realize what's about to happen, it's already too late.

I stare at the orange glow that emanates from the beast's throat, expecting a column of fire to shoot forth, but all that comes out is a puff of smoke and a few pathetic sparks. Defeated by its failure, the creature collapses and starts whimpering once more.

It takes a moment before I realize the dragon is an infant. It would explain its small stature and its inability to spit fire. The fear I once felt is gone, leaving behind only a sense of confusion.

Should I stay or leave? Part of me—the primal, cowardly side—begs me to run, to flee while I still can. Another part—the heroic, power-wielding side I'm beginning to realize I possess—insists I help the defenceless creature.

Logic dictates I abandon the baby dragon to its fate and pursue my journey. My companions' lives depend on it. Not to mention the fact that the dragon will most likely perish when the volcano erupts. Then again, this would be the perfect opportunity to test the theory I have been pondering for the past few hours.

Will 2.0 claimed I was a hero. So did the forest korrigans. And Korri. If that's true, it means I'm destined for greatness. Saving the baby dragon would not only count as my first heroic act, but it would prove whether or not I am the champion people believe me to be.

"Okay," I mutter once my mind is made up. "Let's do this."

I circle the dragon and quickly locate the source of its pain. Its left wing is pinned beneath a large boulder. From the looks of it, it's a piece of the ceiling. It must have fallen during the earthquake, pinning the baby dragon.

"Don't worry," I whisper as I tiptoe toward the injured animal. At first, it doesn't react, but it starts growling when I get within a metre of it. I'm terrified of what will happen if I venture any closer, but I refuse to give up.

I keep going until I reach the boulder. It's small but heavy. The fact that it landed on its flat side means I will have to completely lift it off the ground in order to free the baby dragon. Unfortunately, strength is not exactly my strong suit. I doubt even Jonn could accomplish such a feat.

I plant my feet, grab hold of the ceiling fragment and heave.

Nothing happens.

I try again, only to fail once more. But I won't give up. I can't. I keep trying until, finally, I collapse, panting heavily.

"I'm sorry," I say. "If only I were as strong as you I could..."

My voice trails off.

"Dammit! Why didn't I think of it before?"

I leap to my feet. The dragon flinches, but now that it has realized I'm trying to help, it's no longer intimidated by my proximity. Still, it's with a certain unease that I reach out and press my hand to its flank. When nothing bad happens, I close my eyes and focus on the image of the fire-breathing beast. Within seconds, the transformation is complete.

I open my eyes, tilt my head back, and roar. The rumble echoes throughout the cavern. A few glowworms fall as a result of my growl, but I couldn't care less. I have a job to do.

Using my powerful new body, I grab hold of the boulder and chuck it into the lake as though it were nothing more than a pebble. The rock fragment floats there for a moment before sinking. And, just like that, the baby dragon is free.

The fire-breathing reptile stands on shaky legs and flexes its injured wing. When nothing bad happened, it leaps into the air and starts flapping. The strokes are lopsided, but the animal remains airborne long enough to perform a few aerial stunts before coming in for a landing. It skids to a stop less than a metre from me and peers deep into my eyes. No words are spoken, yet I sense it's thanking me. There's no way for me to respond, so I remain quiet. It's not until the baby dragon leaps into the air once more and vanishes into the white haze of the glowing lake that I allow myself to relax.

"Wow," I gasp as soon as I revert to my human form. "I can't believe I saved a dragon."

It was risky but rewarding. I now have proof I'm a hero. Not to mention the fact that I'm pretty much invincible. How else could I have survived so many brushes with death? But I forget all about that when I look around and realize the baby dragon is not all that's gone.

The rowboat is missing.