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 do not know where you are taking me, really. But whatever floats your boat."
The beast growled.
"Let bygones be bygones?" He was pathetic, all this time, back when he was a child to when he was found dying at eighteen. "There is no hope . . . for me. See how I pity myself?"
He tried to twitch his fingers, but his limbs felt as though they were carrying the weight of the world. The beast's talons did not merely hold him, but it was as though they were crushing him. 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 has happened, even what is to unfold . . . I have not been as mindful, as much as if some of it is 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.
"A normal life, is it that difficult to seize? Look, even I have a blindfold, but then I could still see through it. What a ridiculous obscenity, do you not think?"
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 like a fire pit."
Maze felt a strange pull toward the darkness.
"Yet . . . talking like this only makes me twice as exhausted . . . "
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.
However, must he be stingy with his spirit now that the end was reaching for him?
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. Here, 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, a 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 . . . May I guess that I am about to face my inevitable end later?" he asked, but the beast could only growl for the nth time. "Then, at least, let me have a good night's sleep before you feast upon me."
Damned, he was wary that 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 rest, since he would lose himself wholly.
The wind became a lullaby over the next few seconds, masking the scent of old feathers and musk. His eyelids felt like those shackles of iron from the swamp. They were heavy and impossible to hold up anymore. Somehow, they slid shut on their own, and Maze did not resist, letting 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 baffled 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 as though 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 did not 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.
How could something so massive be torn apart?
How is it possible?
There were so many before, and he could clearly see 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 in the first place? 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? Not quite a dream. 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 the pitfire must this be his agony!
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.
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 did not 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 Child of this year has finally arrived."
The woman offered her hand, her fingers slender and pale against the somber surrounding.
"Welcome to the Towers Below."