What else could it be but a mere jinx?
Eventually, because at this moment, he was sprinting through a vast clearing. The forest had opened up into a sea of grass and low bushes, and the winged beast followed with ear-splitting screeches. Beside it ran its new henchman, a figure that moved and dressed exactly like Maze.
Then, thump!
Maze stumbled, his feet skidding in the dirt as something heavy struck his spine. When he glanced behind, he caught a glimpse of his own face in his periphery. He was being stoned by his doppelganger. His brows creased in a knot of confusion. Why did the mimic do that to him? Why did it chase him while the beast ignored the copy entirely?
He had to keep moving, nonetheless.
If they catch me, it is the end. My . . . literal end, this time.
He cursed the world!
He cursed his wretched luck!
He cursed the beast and the hollow thing wearing his skin!
His limbs grew heavier with every heartbeat. It felt as if his body were turning to lead, the weight of his muscles pulling him toward the soil. The longer he remained in this open trap, the more he became a target for death.
But what could he do? There was no way he could rest, no way to ask for a timeout, and such was far from possible. He could not even fight, because that was not his job.
He was a shepherd, a man of fields and flocks.
He could not last against a titan bigger and stronger than him.
The nearest trees were miles away. He could not turn left or right because the clearing was as wide as an arena. He was a speck in an open space, his legs thrashing through the brush while he dodged another flying stone, and even pace was shifty and frantic.
The wind gnawed at him with brumal rage and the sky remained blotted out.
His terror was immeasurable.
It was not something worst that could happen to him but . . .
Maze wanted to sleep.
He craved the silence of a deep slumber, but sleep was not something he could do right now.
Maze was losing his cool now. He was clearly exhausted and weary, sensing his chest constrict as if his lungs were shrinking within his ribs. His vision began to blur into a gray haze.
Clenching his jaw, Maze heaved a burdened sigh and forced his legs to move. He could feel something heavy anchoring him, making every stride sluggish, while the presence of his enemies pressed against his back.
But so what?
Must he give up?
Master wanted a good life for me.
Mr. Ivory wished for that as well.
If he could just survive. If he could just carry on!
Then, as if his body were answering his silent plea, Maze felt himself drifting. It was the same sensation as before, as if he were leaving his own skin.
Everything hazed over. His sight misted with sparks of flashing lights that danced before his eyes. Before he could grasp the change, the open clearing was gone and he was deep within the forest.
What happened?
How had he even ended up in this position?
His body remained heavy, weary, and exhausted, but he was far away from the open field.
SCREECH! Even the beast's growl sounded lulled and inaudible now, a distant memory in the wind.
Yet he had to run.
He had to escape and then hide.
That was the only choice.
He dashed forward, taking one step, two steps, then more. MORE! He needed to be farther and farther away. He flew past the looming trunks — SLAM!
His foot slammed into a thick, buried root that wouldn't budge. He tumbled forward, falling down another steep slope. Maze held his breath as he endured the agony of being smashed from one trunk to another.
Whip-like branches and bushes flailed against his skin, striking every hurdle on the way down until the world flattened into a mire. He tasted the bitter earth and lay there, bathing in the cold muck of the swamp. Such a pity that most were but hurdles!
Maze clawed through the muck, dragging his heavy frame forward inch by inch. He forced a momentum into his limbs, struggling to find the strength to stand, while his vision swimming before him forced another ragged sigh from his lips.
His heart was slowing.
His eyelids felt like shackles of iron.
But he crawled on and on.
He must.
He had to find a way to stand.
He had to do anything to live. He could not die, not until he looked upon the future his master had envisioned. He needed to ask why such a hope existed in the first place.
As his sight slowly cleared, even with the mire pinning him down and the filth coating his skin, he sensed a final chance. Before him stretched a rush of crystal-clear water. It was a shallow river, but it surged wildly, clashing against uneven stones with a discordant hiss that now filled his ears.
If he tumbled into that current, it would be his end.
Maze braced his shaking arms against the bank and pushed.
As he rose, his reflection caught him by surprise in the shimmering surface.
He froze, stunned and bewildered.
Despite the mask of dirt and filth on his skin, something else remained untouched and utterly illogical.
Tragically . . .
He was wearing a foil gold blindfold.
No wonder the fabrics that had bound him were nowhere to be found. They had migrated here, wrapping around his eyes to hinder his vision, and yet, he could see through the metallic sheen as if it were glass.
How in hell is everything turning out so peculiar?
Is fate playing me like a marionette right now?
What have I done to deserve this . . . ?
No one was there to explain these supernatural happenings. He was utterly alone. To think that this object was meant to be a blessing, a gift to change his life.
How could he possibly react?
Maze forced his legs to lock, finally standing tall against the wind.
But the moment he found his balance—
A sudden force pushed his back and pitched him toward the surging water.
Maze plunged into the icy current, the weight of his waterlogged clothes dragging him toward the rocky bed. The water rushed into his mouth and nostrils, a cold and suffocating force that he could not swallow. He thrashed his arms, his fingers clawing at the surface as he forced himself to swim and swim.
At first, his resistance held.
He fought against the dragging flow, his muscles burning as he refused to let the river take him.
But his body was becoming an anchor. His sight grew blurry, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of gray and white foam. Through the spray, he glimpsed an unclear figure standing on the bank.
It was an evil version of himself.
The doppelganger looked down with a triumphant smile, savoring the sight of Maze's struggle. Maze attempted to reach out, to swim toward the edge, but the water pulled him deeper into its belly. The flow was sinking him, pushing him farther and farther into the center of the rapids.
Suddenly, CRACK!
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His side struck into a uneven stone with so much intensity that his entire frame went stiff. The air was punched from his lungs. Another crack! Crack! His bones jolted against the unyielding rocks as the current tossed him like a ragdoll. The cold began to turn into a numb, hollow blackness.
Or did he lose himself to the dark?
Because the moment his vision almost went black, those familiar flashing lights danced before his eyes. He felt the sensation of drifting, his soul slipping through the air until he appeared with a solid body right behind the mimic.
Rasping, Maze's eyes twitched as he was slightly dumfounded.
Push . . . him . . . Maze felt like his head was about to crack.
As if his mind was telling the only way to end such betrayal was to end the life of the mimic.
So he wasted no time.
Before the doppelganger could even sense who was behind, Maze was quick.
He lunged forward with every ounce of his remaining strength and shoved the mimic into the rushing water.
The doppelganger hit the surface with a heavy splash. It was swept away instantly, its form tossed violently against the unforgiving stones. Thud! Thud! Each impact echoed through the roar of the rapids as the current claimed the doppelganger, pulling it down into the churning depths. Red streaks began to bloom and swirl in the white foam as the body hit stone after stone.
Maze stood on the bank, chest heaving, as he watched the current carry away the thing that wore his face until it vanished into the spray.
But it was not done yet.
Something remained unbeatable in this darkness.
GROWL! The creature was close now, its heavy scent of old feathers and musk filling the air.
Maze was trapped in a deadlock.
His only path led along the bank, a desperate sprint either left or right following the curve of the river.
He remained unaware of how he could shed one body only to form another, but a strange power had clearly taken root within him. Whether the foil gold blindfold granted this ability or the eclipse itself had warped his reality, he would have to ask himself later.
What mattered now was the escape.
After this, he deserved a long, dreamless nap.
But could he even have it?
Maze chose to follow the bank, his sandals skidding on the wet stones as he ran with the flow of the current. Even with his frame feeling like lead, he found the strength to push forward. But the growl grew more intense, vibrating through his very spine.
Before Maze could react, the beast's talons plunged into both of his shoulders, dragging him backward with a violent jerk.
He cursed the eclipse!
MAZE FLOATED midair in between the dark canopy and the hindered moon. Each heavy beat of the beast's wings pulled him higher, dragging him into the far reaches of the sky. The treetops below shrank into a blurred carpet of moss. He was floating, yet he felt heavier than ever.
What could he do now?
"You know what? It is crazy that I am initiating a conversation with a beast like you right now." Maze chuckled, but as if tasting iron, he exasperatedly sighed. "I don't know where you're taking me, really. But whatever floats your boat."
The beast growled.
"I will just let bygones be bygones." He was pathetic, after all, back when he was a child to when he was found dying at eighteen. "There's no hope . . . for me. See how I pity myself?"
He tried to twitch his fingers, but his limbs felt carrying the weight of the world. The beast's talons didn't merely hold him, but as though crushing him, and perhaps that was how sensitive he had become. The pressure against his shoulders worked like a slow choke, digging into the same skin that had been battered by the river rocks only moments ago, as every breath was a struggle against the weight of the air.
"Everything that happened, even what is to unfold, I have not been as mindful, as much as, if some of it are supposed to be planned."
His heartbeat slowed to a dull thud.
"Or maybe, I am that feeble unfortunate being that is not worthy of any simple living."
A high-pitched ringing filled his skull, but through the noise, he caught the continuous thrum of leathery wings and the lash of the wind.
"What I want is a normal life, that is somewhat given as I get to emphasize that to you."
Up here, the night air howled with a cold rage that bit through his clothes.
"But here I am, yes? It is the irony of my reality, and it stinks as fire pit."
Maze felt a strange pull toward the darkness.
"Yet . . . talking like this only makes me twice as tired . . ."
He now wanted a rest.
Perhaps this was the finish line his master never spoke of.
Why the beast had chosen to pluck him from the earth like a stray lamb was a mystery, but the fight had drained out of him.
He pictured his master's face, then the hollow void where his future used to be. A bitter smile twitched on his lips. His muscles trembled with a chill that felt like the first touch of the grave.
But so what?
Must he be stingy with his spirit now that the end was reaching for him?
Tch!
He abhorred the world. He was drowning in his own regrets. Would any of this have happened if he were someone else?
The beast climbed in the atmosphere higher and higher. Above, the moon was a silver coin being swallowed by the eclipse. Maze looked down one last time.
Tiny sparks flickered in the distance like stagnant fireflies. Those were the lights of his district. From this height, massive line traced the edges of the city. Walls? Great, sweeping barriers he never knew existed.
Why would he care about those structures now?
"Huh, I am about to take a nap. Since . . . Sigh. I presumed that I am about to face my inevitable end later, am I?" he asked, but the beast could only growl for the nth time. "At least, let me have a goodnight sleep before you feast over me."
Damned, he was wary he could not even have a bargain.
In fact, he still feared the idea of death.
However . . .
He was just so, so sleepy.
It would not hurt to earn some, since he would lost himself wholly.
The wind became a lullaby the next few seconds, masking the scent of old feathers and musk, with his eyelids felt like those shackles of iron from the swamp, and it was heavy and impossible to hold up anymore. Somehow, they slid shut on their own, and Maze did not resist and let sleep visit him finally.
Sleep . . .
After some time, Maze drifted back to his senses.
He watched as if his soul left his body while the beast dived downward. He was swaying, a helpless weight in that iron grip. Then, the world flipped.
The beast went topsy-turvy and suddenly Maze was on top with his feet pointed at the sky. He clamped his jaw shut, teeth grinding as he tried to hold on against the impact of the wind. He endured every second of that uncomfortable position while the pain throbbed in his shoulders.
But he was more shocked by the figures of the towers ahead. They were massive and tall, silhouettes of pure black that made his body tremble. He looked at them from his upside-down view, squinting through a thick and heavy fog that swirled around the structures. There were so many of them, an uncountable forest of black pillars hidden in the mist, looming like giants in the dark. At least five or more were standing there, crowding the horizon in a blurred, dark mess—
BZZT!
It felt that his entire frame trembled due to some force and before he knew it, the beast was already above him and he was below it as a captive. How did it happen? He was clearly positive that the beast didn't change position!
But the towers . . .
He was looking at them normally now, no longer upside down. Even though the fog still clung to the air, it was clear that the crowd of pillars had vanished in a blink of an eye. The uncountable figures were gone.
Now, he could clearly count them — the first tower farther to the left, then another in the middle, and another nearer to him to the right — but the one nearer was . . . in ruin?
The top of the black spire looked as if a giant hand had snapped it off, leaving scraggy rocks that pierced the fog around it. Shattered blocks of obsidian hung in the mist, and the walls were scarred with deep, glowing cracks that appeared unnatural at all.
How could something so massive be torn apart.
How is it possible?
There were so many before, and I clearly saw them.
There were more than three just a second ago . . .
So many confusing scenarios had happened to him already.
But even the beast could not explain those to him.
Especially why on earth would he be transported to this place at firsthand? His eyes remained glued to the three lone towers as the beast carried him closer to their peaks.
Before he could even complain inwardly, the beast let go.
The iron grip vanished from his shoulders as he was falling midair.
Wait . . .
Midair?
No, he was not dreaming.
Was he going to die falling?!
Maze cursed under his breath as an immense force jerked his body toward the abyss. The towers ahead were indeed tall, their black peaks mocking him as the ground remained a distant, blurring shadow. He tumbled and tumbled through the empty space. His stomach lurched into his throat while he sucked in the freezing air, his mind a frantic loop of continuous cursing.
To hell must this be his sufferance!
Maze refused to close his eyes. If he was going to meet the end with eyes wide open, then nothing else could be done.
But the world would not stop spinning.
He felt dizzy and suffocated and aching all at once. The wind whipped against his skin like a thousand scourges, a reminder that the beast was indeed hostile from the very beginning.
The dark floor of the world rushed up to greet him.
Nearer.
Much nearer.
Before he knew it, he landed.
SPLASH! But there was no snap of bone against stone. Instead, a cold liquid consumed him whole. The impact was a terrifying shock that stole his remaining breath as he was pulled and pulled downward into the depths.
He clawed at the weight around him, but he could not see anything. The water was not clear or clean. It was a thick, suffocating soup of pure darkness.
Then—
The heavy pressure shifted.
He felt as if his body began to float.
It went higher, much higher, then higher than that.
His head finally peaked over the surface and he coughed, his lungs burning as they rejected the murky brine. Before he could even grasp the shore, something physical and firm hooked under his arms. It dragged him upward with a violent tug and led him onto solid ground.
Maze almost collapsed.
He knelt in the dark, gasping for air as he continued to cough the black water from his throat.
Before his eyes was a pair of black leather boots. They were polished and dark, planted firmly on the cold ground. Maze looked up, his chest still heaving.
When he looked up, he saw a countenance smiling down at him.
The lady had hair as white as bone, pulled tight into a neat bun that didn't have a single strand out of place. Her deep emerald eyes searched his own, sparkling with a deep interest that made his skin crawl.
"I see that the final Child of this year has finally surfaced."
The woman offered her hand, her fingers slender and pale against the gloom.
"Welcome to the Towers Below."
Pardon! I split the previous chapter since it was longer than I have expected. I put some of its last half here, then add an extension narrative to lengthen. Don't worry, the chapters are already created, and they are somewhat among my stockpile. Additionally, this is also the day that I'll get to publish two chapters, since it is my mistake. I'll return to publishing one chapter a day for a week, after this get published. Then, I'll fix my schedule the week after (perhaps, publishing twice a week only). Have a great day!