Detective Papyrus is on the case! And while it's a swim of a good few minutes to get to the weird light, it's not a strenuous swim. He makes good time. As he moves forward, he'll see that the other, more natural light curves upward into a tunnel that slopes almost vertically. It's easy to assume that that's a way out.
But Papyrus has an inquisitive mind, so he swims over to the strange blue flickering light. This close, he'll be able to see that it's coming from a crack in the cave wall, one about the width of Papyrus's radius, big enough to see through but not much else. Pressing his eye socket to the crack, he sees . . .
A room. A small cavern, crammed floor to ceiling with coral with barely enough room to swim between each. The coral itself is strange — glitchy and constantly in transition from one color to another, one resolution to the next. It gives off the glow of a screen at maximum brightness. In the corners of his vision, there seems to be something in the shadows of the room — long and thin, moving gently — limbs? They're gone when he looks directly at them.
One thing is for sure, however. Looking into this room makes him feel awful. Every part of him grows heavier with despair the longer he looks at the chamber full of coral, as though something in him knows he is staring at something incredibly, cosmically dangerous. Something wrong.
It won't be long before he has to wrest his gaze from the crack. But before he does, he sees one more thing.
In the middle of a twist of coral that seems to be growing around it, perhaps even holding it in place, is a book. It's thick and well-worn and bears its title in bold letters on the spine, just visible between the grappling coral.
no subject
But Papyrus has an inquisitive mind, so he swims over to the strange blue flickering light. This close, he'll be able to see that it's coming from a crack in the cave wall, one about the width of Papyrus's radius, big enough to see through but not much else. Pressing his eye socket to the crack, he sees . . .
A room. A small cavern, crammed floor to ceiling with coral with barely enough room to swim between each. The coral itself is strange — glitchy and constantly in transition from one color to another, one resolution to the next. It gives off the glow of a screen at maximum brightness. In the corners of his vision, there seems to be something in the shadows of the room — long and thin, moving gently — limbs? They're gone when he looks directly at them.
One thing is for sure, however. Looking into this room makes him feel awful. Every part of him grows heavier with despair the longer he looks at the chamber full of coral, as though something in him knows he is staring at something incredibly, cosmically dangerous. Something wrong.
It won't be long before he has to wrest his gaze from the crack. But before he does, he sees one more thing.
In the middle of a twist of coral that seems to be growing around it, perhaps even holding it in place, is a book. It's thick and well-worn and bears its title in bold letters on the spine, just visible between the grappling coral.
CALEB CLEVELAND AND THE IMAGINARY ISLAND.