READING THE LETTER yet again, he found he could no longer process the words. He was . . . numb, drained of all reaction. For Maze, the world had become a sequence of questionable events, entirely devoid of logic.

  Why would he tell me not to go back to the manor?

  What life is waiting for me?

  What should I even do now?

  Truly, he didn't know what it would take to restore his reality, and return to the life he had before he chased after his master and opened that letter.

  He had only one wish: to stand before his savior. He longed to look upon his master's face, to hold him within his reach, and to finally feel the presence of the man who had been his father figure. In his darkest moments, when hope had vanished, his shadow became his light, guiding him toward a home and a purpose as a shepherd.

  Sadly, he had been forsaken by the truth and plundered of his emotions.

  If fear was the sole remnant of his humanity, then his damnation was already creeping inside him.

  When he forced himself up, his legs shook under his weight, weak and unsteady as though he were a stranger to his own body.

  Master, even my body is betraying me.

  Maze looked up and saw flickering dust in the darkening sky.

  As if he were brought back to the past, he was reminded of a memory.

  A body crawling in the dirt. A cry of pain. A bruised hand reaching for a blurred figure. The shepherd tried to close his eyes to ease his mind, but then, an ache stirred within his chest.

  Am I allowed to even feel this right now? he wondered bitterly. He was wary of what the letter advised him to do: to open the fist-sized chest box to claim the so-called sevenfold reward before the eclipse happened.

  Surely, he was running out of time.

  And yet . . . what was it that his master wanted him to do?

  What was important was he still had time.

  Indeed, even if it ran out, he could just go back to the mountains and suffer, for all he cared.

  But was it even true that his master was safe? What if it was all a bluff? It could not be just an act.

  Biting his lower lip, Maze walked back to the tilted carriage. It leaned on the axle where a wheel should have been, and the harnesses hung loose where the horses had escaped. The road remained unnervingly clear; no spray of blood stained the dirt, and no splinters suggested an ambush or a struggle. As he traced the frame of the carriage, he found no scratches or broken wood to prove an accident had occurred. It sat there clean and emptied, mirroring the hollow silence of the closed border several meters ahead.

  Then there was the fog, thickening and strange.

  Did this signify his master was telling the truth? It couldn't be.

  Maze leaned into the carriage's dark interior. There was no other materials to see. No trunk, no discarded cloak, no sign of the man he sought. He pressed his palms to his temples, straining to hear anything — a hoofbeat, a rustle of a leaf, a breath — as if the area became abandoned and isolated.

  When he returned to the bench and scrutinized the fist-sized chest, he could not even dare to touch it.

  He had never wanted such a reward in the first place.

  It was not wealth he was after, nor had he ever desired anything else. Bread and milk alone satisfied him, and savoring whatever simple taste they brought was the only reward he deserved as a shepherd.

  For him, shepherding was one of the real rewards he could ever reap.

  Not this blessing, whatever it was. Not the letter.

  If he could change one thing, he would choose not to see his master at all, if it meant he wouldn't be stripped of the life he had been given.

  It was as if he were being flayed.

  With these various thoughts forming inside his head, his chest tightened, as if his heart were being cut into a thousand pieces. Betrayed and pained, whatever this feeling was, it screamed at him to just screw off and escape.

  He could not accept the reality waiting for him.

  However —

  "He said he would like to give you rewards for taking care of his sheep."

  "Are they bread and milk?"

  "Have you had enough of those, Maze?"

  Maze recalled how he was stupefied, and how Mr. Ivory became grumpy at first, but then softened.

  "It's different this time, something that not even wealth could offer . . . but I do wish your life will take you somewhere else with that, not concerning your shepherding, but a life of your own."

  Then, what was different this time, that Maze could not envision himself? They talked big about something that he should have decided on his own. There was Mr. Ivory, and even the master's letter. Whatever wealth could offer, or a life that was not shepherding, the very idea was simply impossible.

  When he looked at the letter once more, he tried to make it all made sense for him.

  「... Fret not, young man, for your life has just begun. Simply do not look for me...」

  「...So shall there be a sevenfold reap for you alone as a token of my gratitude. I bestow upon you my blessing...」

  「I wish for your well-being.」

  「May a path be open before you, Maze.」

  Looking at that, it was clear his master was sincere. Maze could only sigh and shake off his troubles, folding the letter and keeping it in his pocket.

  He slowly reached for the chest. When he grasped it, he looked at how small it was, and at how mysterious and odd it appeared. The mark on the lid, the expensive embossment of gold and silver, the silver lining, and the heaviness all seemed to ridicule a mere dust like him.

  At any moment, the eclipse will occur. Must I open it then, before it is too late? After all, it would be such a waste not to. Master would be disappointed. With that thought, he remained saddened and hurting, but there was no choice but to accept whatever promise they claimed awaited him.

  He must claim it for himself.

  Doing nothing until it was too late was a predicament he might regret later.

  Especially since, if it meant returning the favor to his master, he should probably do it, even if he didn't like the idea of starting anew.

  I hope one day, it is his face that I am to see, that I may hear his voice and have a good conversation with him.

  Shoving away his reluctance, Maze cracked the lid. Golden spores hissed into the air, sparking like collective fireworks against the gloom. The chest began to rattle and shake as if something inside were desperate to escape. One, a single gold fabric lashed out. Two, another leaped from the box.

  Maze attempted to step back even before the rest could follow, but the egress of the ribbons was much quicker than his feet.

  Then as many as a swarm, the fabrics multiplied and jumped out one by one. They coiled around his wrists like living tentacles and slithered upward, the strands moving as if they were metallic snakes seeking his throat.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Maze dropped the heavy, vibrating box and scrambled backward again, his heels skidding in the dirt as he tried to outrun the gold. He gasped for air, his chest heaving and his eyes stretching wide with dread. Suddenly, the poor shepherd's legs tangled, and he tumbled to the ground.

  What is happening . . . ?

  He could not even think of another question while the gold ribbons mummified his limbs. They galloped across the cold, hard ground to bind him tight, wrapping his body in layer after layer. Maze clawed at each of the fabrics covering his skin, but his fingers found no purchase. He was failing and failing, while his consciousness was weakening.

  No, no . . . This can't be . . .

  With his vision blurring, the fog swallowed the world, and a heavy darkness consumed what was left of the light. Then, when he looked up and saw the moon blotted out by a blackened star, the eclipse had already begun.

  Does that mean I was late . . . ?

  Is it the reason why, instead of a blessing, I am being cursed?

  Am I going to die here?

  He sat paralyzed on the cold ground while the gold fabrics tightened their feast upon his skin. His heart hammered against his ribs and his head throbbed with every beat. Motionless and trapped, he could only draw what felt like his final, restless breath.

  But a sudden shift startled him.

  The pressure of the bindings vanished as the fabrics eased their grip. He felt a phantom crawling sensation moving upward over his skin, again and again and again, like retreating water. When he looked down at his trembling arms and legs, the fabrics were gone

  He could still see . . .

  So where the hell did it go?

  As he stood up and picked up the chest ahead, there was nothing in there anymore.

  Something troubled Maze.

  Until he heard a screeching sound in the air.

  Something was flying.

  And there was no way that such a thing was now landing toward him!

  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. It was not just landing. In his perspective, it appeared 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.

  He scrambled into the mouth of the forest, his feet tripping over roots and tangled brush. Behind him, he heard the beast roar, a sound that was half-bird and half-lion, vibrating through the very trees.

  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?

  Maze did not look back, eventually, because there was no way he could do that. He pushed deeper into the thickening fog of the forest, his heart hammering against his ribs 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 was not over.

  The creature was still coming.

  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 was still following. With no other choice, Maze knew he had to find a far-off, hideous place to hide.

  He bolted and lunged through the brush until his sandals lost their grip on a steep slope. He skid downward, his body tumbling until he hit the damp earth below. Above him, 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.

  The shepherd was exhausted. His lungs burned and his muscles screamed, yet more sweat poured down his face as the branches reached out to brush his skin roughly, tearing at him as if the forest itself wanted him to suffer. Even when the way was choked with impediments, from scraggy stones to prickly bushes, he pushed forward.

  Until . . .

  A surge of hope flared in his chest.

  Before him emerged a willow with thick, drooping leaves.

  Without hesitation, he threw himself into the shadows and hid behind the trunk.

  The silence was deafening and nerve-wracking. Outside, the whistling wind blew in one raging gust after another, shaking the willow branches. Maze presumed that the creature was landing.

  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, 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 he had to fulfill his master's wish. But the creature possessed a primal, crushing strength, and he was being hauled across 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 face. 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.

  He needed to survive!

  Panic flared as he was now leaping off the ground, slowly and slowly. The creature was already midair, dragging him upward into the darkening sky. This couldn't 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, as everything turned cold and strangely hollow.

  He felt himself splitting apart.

  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.

  He looked at his own pale hands, as his countenance was not physical, but seemingly transparent!

  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!" They even had the same voice, as this former body attempted to shake itself in the hopes of being released from the giant beast.

  The latter 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. What the hell was this? Why did he have another body? Everything at this moment seemed impossible, a nightmare layered within a nightmare.

  But he needed to escape.

  Because . . .

  BECAUSE!

  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.

  What the hell is going on?!