THE CABIN WAS indeed meant for a single occupant. At the center stood a four-poster king-sized bed with a headrest positioned against the edge. A cuckoo clock was fixated upon the marble wall, which served as the partition between two chambers: the washroom and the wardrobe area. Opposite these rooms was the entrance he had used, situated between a meditation platform to the left — a structure of curved wood with a six-pointed star at its heart — and a simple table and chair to the right. An unlit candelabra dangled from the ceiling, while the entirety of the floor remained covered in thick carpeting.
He first partook of a bath before he changed his raiment. By some fortunate grace, several sets of the Orphan uniform resided within the wardrobe area; however, since he was not destined for combat, he elected to wear only the trousers and the sleeves, venturing forth barefoot.
Maze, in the light of the day, rested upon the bed and allowed himself to drift into slumber. The moment he did so, he found himself upon a small landmass where a tree bearing dice fruit stood at the center. It was at this instant that he somehow knew he required time for himself.
Maze leaned against the trunk and embraced his knees, his chest yearning for a memory not so distant of the simple life he once possessed. He recalled the pasture, his herding, and the smallest, most humble moments with the flock of sheep surrounding him. In those days, he had cared for nothing else, for he was contented.
Yet all was altered when his master suddenly desired to meet him on the Day of the Eclipse. It was during that same hour his master spoke to him, though only through a letter.
"It . . . " He could not utter the words, as his tongue was seized by fear and appeared to be tied in a knot. When he felt that he must still speak it aloud, he eventually did so. "It would have been good if you were the one to say it to me, master."
When he uttered those words, he returned to silence.
In that time, I would have surrendered the simple life if you had told me such things face-to-face. It would have changed everything, from the way he adapted to and understood all the strange occurrences, and the very truth by which he was living.
Perhaps he would not even utter a lamentation in this place; indeed, it was possible he would even provide his own solace. He had truly existed as an island for the entirety of his life. Thus, when he took up the mantle of a shepherd, he viewed it as a means to create an island of sheep with whom he could converse, even sharing his thoughts with an overseer he once addressed as Mr. Ivory. Life would not have appeared so menacing had he not unsealed the letter and the small, fist-sized chest. Without those tokens, there might not have been a sevenfold reaping, the logic of which remained faint to his mind.
He was stripped of the comforts he had grown to know, forced to commence his journey anew. A Child, an Orphan, an awakened — from a lonely age on the brink of demise to the life of a shepherd. He was compelled to learn and act with haste for the sake of what was deemed survival, only to find himself confronting death again and again.
"Every time you venture here, I always encounter a countenance that is lonely and fragile." A dark figure sat beside him. "What has become of you during these seven years?"
It was the shadow, dressed as a shepherd and fashioned exactly like him.
Maze regained his composure, stretching his legs to sit properly. "It seems that you are barred from what I have become for that duration."
His shadow clicked his tongue. "I have lived the same as you, but we belong to different worlds." In due course, he stiffened as if he realized something. "Are you not questioning my existence once more?"
"What do you mean?" Maze crossed his arms. "That it was by the truth that you were supposed to be gone when I confronted you?"
"In a sense." The other self inclined its head. "But it does not matter, does it?"
Maze lifted a hand as if he were about to touch the air. "When I confronted you, it did not signify that you would vanish. It is simply a form of acceptance, as you hold the origin of my Vision, for you are a part of it. Whether or not I accept you, it does not change the fact that you will exist with me, so long as I am alive."
"I truly thought that I had vanished, however." It sighed in relief. "Which is different from what eventually occurred."
His eyes flickered upon hearing those words. "I have been meaning to ask you something."
"We both find favor in the idea of asking, so pray tell."
"Do you feel lonely here?"
The shadow was taken aback by what it heard, but soon it recovered and rose to its feet. It turned its back against the former shepherd and spread its arms. For some time, all was quiet, until it looked up.
"I have been alone since the beginning, little labyrinth."
He need not expound upon the weight behind the statement.
Maze tried to close his eyes, and they both relished the dream by which they were bound.
"Then," it seemed to glance at him, "how about you tell me of your seven-year journey?"
"Treat this as our little secret, my shadow." Maze brushed his hair and proceeded to recount all the things he had experienced, from how he became a shepherd to how he was granted a new life. "Then I became an Orphan, who had known what this dream was for." He looked at his palms. "I tried to run away from you, hide from you, and escape — for I feared to confront you, and kept you a secret. We share the same secrets until now, and that shall not change forever. We share the same fate and the same destiny." He paused as he felt himself tremble a little. "I have become vulnerable, and I always shall be whenever I am here. I am exposed, with nowhere to hide, and even you know it."
"Look at the bright side." It walked ahead a little. "You gained a family along the way, even when this life is but a peril. You have Siblings now. They are not sheep you herd and protect, but beings you can love, Mizmaze." The wind brushed against them. "You can love."
Love was something feeble he had yet to understand. It was something he had reached when he found a father who had saved him, and yet desired to be rid of him as he was gifted the life of an awakened. Truly, his master might have known it when he saved him back then, but for what reason? Was it merely to give him up and let him be taken away to the Tower?
But even in this part of the world, he was treated as an outcast by those called Heirs. Would it even change when he was taken to Yonder? Yet Below was a sanctuary that had accepted him even when they kept things from him.
He, too, had kept one thing from them.
A dream—
Dreamt even when he was a child.