MAZE SAW A shadow expanding over the road, and the air around him began to howl with a violent, downward wind. The screeching grew so loud that it felt like a blade scraping against his skull. This creature was not landing. To Maze and his perspective, it appeared to be diving.
He saw the flash of massive, hooked talons reaching for him, sharp and curved like silver scythes. The front of the beast was a blur of gold feathers and a giant, snapping beak, while the back was the muscular, fur-covered frame of a lion. It was a monstrosity of two worlds.
Maze did not think twice. He simply threw himself toward the wooden barricade at the edge of the road. With a desperate leap, he cleared the barrier just as the creature slammed into the ground where he had been standing. The impact was so heavy that the earth groaned, and the sound of wood splintering filled the air. The bench was destroyed!
He scrambled into the mouth of the forest, his feet tripping over roots and tangled brush.
Behind him, he heard the beast roar.
Why was it chasing him? Why now? He was so unlucky. He was so cursed. Even as the eclipse was in horrific pursuit and the world turned to ash, this nightmare was interested in him. Was it going to eat him? Would it take him away to some high, scrappy peak? Questions, questions.
Maze did not look back, eventually, for there was no way he could do that. He pushed deeper into the thickening fog of the forest; his heart was a maniac wanting to escape a cage like a trapped bird. Branches whipped against his face and tore at his clothes, but he only cared about one thing: he had to get out of its sight.
But the sound of massive wings breaking through the canopy told him it might not be easy to evade it.
A persistent creature it was.
The forest constricted around him, the passage becoming more suffocating and cramped as the trunks thickened and the trees reached higher into the growing darkness. Above, branches along the way were slowly obscuring the sky, plunging the surrounding world into growing, heavy shadows. He was nearly blind, yet the heavy beating of wings told him the creature dared to follow him to death. With no other choice, Maze knew he had to find a far-off, hideous place.
He must hide!
He bolted and lunged through the brush until his sandals lost their grip on a steep slope. He skidded downward, his body tumbling until he hit the damp earth below. The beast screeched as if angered by his descent. A brumal wind began to howl, making his skin prickle with cold while sweat stung his fresh wounds.
His lungs burned and his muscles screamed, with more sweat pouring down his face as the branches reached out to brush his skin roughly, tearing at him as if the forest itself wanted him to bleed in suffering. Even when the way was choked with impediments — scraggy stones, prickly bushes — he had to push forward.
Until . . .
A surge of hope flared in his chest. Before him emerged a willow with thick, drooping leaves. Would it be enough to hide himself?
Without hesitation, he threw himself into the shadows and hid behind the trunk. Silence, he pleaded, and pleaded, and there came quietude. Outside, the whistling wind blew in one raging gust after another, shaking the willow branches. It could be presumed that the creature was landing somewhere near the willow.
Then a nearing step.
More audible steps.
Creak, creak! The sound of branches being crushed under a heavy weight echoed through the dark. Whispering growls and deep sniffing followed, as if the beast were almost near to his hideaway, as if it had a mind and was tracking his very scent.
Holding his breath, Maze felt his heart racing against his ribs. His stomach twisted with worry. What if the beast found him? Would those talons feast over his body right here in the dirt? What did it even want? He squeezed his eyes shut, listening for the sound of a beak clicking in the dark. Maze bit his lip, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. He coiled his muscles, preparing for one last desperate burst of speed before the shadows could give him away.
GROWL! The creature's talons snatched his shoulder, the curved hooks sinking through fabric and skin. Maze let out a strangled cry as the beast began to drag him from the safety of the willow. No . . . not now, please! Not today!
His thoughts screamed for him to fight. He had to live, and fulfill his master's wish. But the creature possessed a primal, crushing strength, and he was being hauled to the forest floor, away from the only cover he had left. The air turned into a whirlwind. Massive wings flapped, sending a storm of dead leaves and stinging dust into his eyes. Gritting his teeth against the agony, Maze felt his body grow heavier as the earth fell away. He had to do something, anything, to escape.
Panic flared as the creature was already midair, dragging him upward into the darkening sky. This could not be happening. He struggled, his shoulder nearly tearing from the socket under the weight of his own resistance. He swung his legs, trying to kick free, but the beast only screeched with a seemingly determined, piercing hunger.
Then, he was absolutely deafened. The wind died, and even the screeching vanished. Maze's eyes widened, but the pain in his shoulder, as well as in his entire body, was gone. He could no longer feel the frantic hammering of his heart. He felt himself splitting apart with utter coldness in the marrow.
Fortunately, it was not his flesh that tore. He looked down and saw his own body dangling in the air, still kicking and struggling against the talons of the beast. But here he was, a few meters away, slightly higher like a wind without a body of his own — if only the wind had a transparent shape. He looked at his own pale hands, as his countenance was not physical, but seemingly phantom!
Had he become a ghost?
Was he now a soul?
Before he could grasp the impossible sight of his own struggling form, the world tilted. His soul fell, plunging through the air until he hit the earth with an intolerable impact. THUD!
It hurts! It freaking hurts!
Maze's mind screamed as a throbbing pain crushed his skull, forcing him to clutch his temples. He gasped, his fingers digging into his hair. But how? Why could he suddenly feel the sting of the cold and the ache in his bones again? Wait . . . am I in a body?
He looked up, and his breath hitched. "How in hell . . . "
The creature was still there, hovering midair with its talons buried in a struggling form. That form was his own face, his own clothes . . . It was still alive and fighting.
"Let go of me!" The figure even had the same voice, as this former body attempted to shake itself in the hopes of being released from the giant beast.
The creature let out a frustrated growl and released its grip. Maze watched in horror as his own likeness plunged toward the earth, hitting the dirt with a sickening thud and a scream of agony.
This time, Maze tried to stand, but the world tilted. His knees shook violently under a weight that felt foreign and new. Why did he have another body?
Everything at this moment seemed impossible.
A nightmare layered within a nightmare.
He could only think of escape.
For such . . .
FOR SUCH!
The doppelganger was now rising from the dirt. It turned its head, its eyes fixing on him with a murderous glare that matched the predatory hunger of the beast above. Both of them — the doppelganger and the beast — were coiled and ready to hunt him now.
Clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white, he bolted.
Why is everything confusing?!