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A compass, placed gently in a hand, small fingers wrapping around it tightly— a motion to show how valuable it is to its new owner.
It didn’t point directly north, nor did it point directly east. Instead, it pointed somewhere between the two, although not perfectly northeast either.
And so, the journey began. The journey to somewhere between north and east, the journey to somewhere the compass had been only once before.
Despite the compass having a lack of eyes— or senses, for that matter— it could tell exactly where you were going, and where you would end up, as long as you followed its point.
And follow the point, he did. He followed it, though it snowed the day he left, and rained the next month. He’d take shelter under trees at times, or in caves where previous travelers left torches.
It wasn’t until the needle started to move the slightest bit that he wondered what he was looking for. He was told only to follow the compass until he finds “what he needs.”
Despite his concerns, he changed his direction to match the compass, and continued on.
He knew only vaguely how long it had been since he’d been home— about thirteen months. His birthday had come and gone, and he was now older. Not by much, but older still.
The days came, the nights passed. The sun would beat down on him on certain days, and be hidden by clouds on others. Sometimes, it would be weeks of the hot sun, and he’d pray to a nonexistent god for rain, to refill his bottles that had gone empty days prior.
On a particularly snowy day, approximately thirty-one months after he left home, he reached another cave. What made him go in despite the darkness, he couldn’t tell you. He lit one of the few torches he had left, and ventured forward, into the deep. He wasn’t necessarily disobeying the compass either— it was pointing right into the cave.
There were many interesting views, particularly where water fell into a pool under a cliff, leaves slowly dripping water into smaller puddles. Axolotls could be seen swimming in the pool, along with squids that he didn’t recognize— they appeared to glow a light blue. Moss covered the walls and floor, and some spots made of clay were waiting for it to grow over. From the ceiling, glowberries came down. He managed to grab a few, although the taste wasn’t very pleasant.
The further he went, the darker it became. There were some places where a dark blue, glowing substance took the place of stone, but he didn’t pay much mind to that once he found an iron door surrounded by bricks— some cracked, some mossy, but all obviously withered, having been placed a long time ago. He pressed the stone button next to the door, and hurried through. The compass was pointing directly into this place now.
There wasn’t much to see in the first few rooms. Some stairs led him deeper into this dungeon, and into a library, inhabited by a small colony of bats. The books, despite the covers being dusty and the pages yellowed with time, seemed to have some quality to them. Holding one, he felt stronger— another, lighter. He opened one, only to be met with a language he didn’t understand. He’d flip through a few, each making him feel different— one, faster, and another, as though he could pick up the most fragile of items— but none giving him any help for his journey.
In the dark, he could see a purple light emitting from the compass— a feature he hadn’t noticed before.
As he admired the glow, the bats flew right by him, as though they had something to run from. He fell forward a bit, keeping his grip on the compass as he caught himself.
Turning around, he saw nothing, and considering he couldn’t read the books here anyways, he left. Another door to the left caught his eye, and looking at the compass, it was right in his path, and so he went.
The sound of lava bubbling was what he recognized first. An obvious missing stair was in front of him, too, but he didn’t recognize the blocks at the top. They were a yellowish-tan, for the most part, with a stony look. The top, however, had some kind of unrecognizable, greenish-blue material that drooped down the sides to create a pattern that appeared to imitate a blanket on a table.
When he looked closer at the blocks, he noticed the middle of each was blinking, and when open, there was a long, slit pupil staring directly at him.
He shook his head, thinking this had to be a hallucination— after all, he hadn’t slept in his own bed in a long time. When he opened his eyes, he was still being stared at. They seemed to beckon him to step into the middle— which had the appearance of the night sky. There were odd noises coming from it, whoops and roars.
He checked his compass. It was spinning, which meant this was right where he was meant to be. He hesitated for a second, but only for a second, before closing his eyes and jumping in.
When he came to, he was standing on an obsidian platform. There was a bridge made of the same stone as the blocks from the portal, leading to an island, once again made of this stone. Following it, he found many tall entities on the main island, scattered around with no true pattern. The obsidian pillars he saw, though, were placed around a bedrock portal— similar to the one he’d seen back in the dungeon— in a circle. The entities were ignoring him for the most part. A few here and there would stare, but he knew as long as he didn’t stare back he’d be fine. He slowly made his way to the portal, and realized that on the column in the middle was an egg, black with purple spots. Floating around the egg was a small boy, seemingly about the same age as him, who had rainbow accents on his clothes.
He stuck his hand out to the boy, and said: “I’m Parrot. Who are you?”
The smaller boy’s voice was garbled, similar to the vwoops coming from the entities, but Parrot was still able to make sense of the words.
“Spoke. I’m Spoke.”