THE DAY OF THE Eclipse. Every last day of the year, an eclipse occurred at night and always lasted for hours. No one knew what it really symbolized, only that it was known to indicate renewal, and so it became a tradition celebrated to welcome another year. Some people said it brought luck, but for Maze, the world was showing him something different.
What else could it be but a mere jinx?
Eventually, 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.
After all, if he were chased alas, it would be his literal end.
He cursed the world!
He cursed his wretched luck!
He cursed the beast and the strange 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, for 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 several meters 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. Even his pace was shifty and frantic. The wind gnawed at him with brumal rage and the sky remained blotted out. What immeasurable terror!
He sensed 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 exactly 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 would not 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 beating slow by the minute. 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 earth 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 it. A blindfold for someone who could see, without being hindered.
It was horrifyingly peculiar.
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.
There came a crack.
His side struck an 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?
For 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 dumbfounded.
Push . . . him . . . Push him! Push him! Maze felt as though his head were about to split open.
As if his mind were telling him 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!