Seven: The Guiding Potion 

Waking in the morning from the hot sun, Layre felt he was given a new life. His body felt rejuvenated, ready to find the cabin deep in the Yelling Steppes. A task as simple as that could not be so hard, right? 

“Get off the roof, damned kid!” A Valoun woman shouts as soon as she sees Layre moving around up there. He does not need to be told twice, so he leaps off the side, landing in a cluster of ferns. He tucks himself in, rolling to hop up on his feet and start running. He would run until he was far enough away from the woman that he could no longer hear her agitated cursing.  

Around the block, he spots the Yelling Steppes again. From here, he can see the herds of animals grazing, scattered about the large expanse of the desert. This steppe was where Vatou hunted their game, and it was clear to Layre that they made sure the wild animal population stayed steady enough to keep the whole town fed.  

He began his journey into the steppe after reaching the edge of the Vatou town border. He never thought he would feel so fond of another town besides Iyelion, but Vatou had offered him a home away from home. He is passing by some shops on the border when he hears a skeptical voice ring to his left. 

“What is your plan, traveler?” A woman with a large, dark brown sun hat asks as Layre steps over the border. 

“It does not concern you.” Layre spits, turning on his heel to face her.  

“Anyone who traverses the steppes so ill-prepared concern me.” She laughs, lifting her sun hat to reveal her silver eyes, narrowed and focused on Layre’s face.  

“Then what is it you suggest?” Layre sets his hands on his hips, irritated that his travels were being halted. He had made it this far, surely, he could figure out the rest on his own.  

“I suggest you tell me your purpose for venturing into the steppe.” Her voice is deep and challenging. 

“I’ve already told you--” Layre begins, but he is cut off by another woman’s voice. 

“Viessa, won’t you stop the taunting? We are already much too late for the... thing we have scheduled. We must head back now.”  

Layre turns to this new voice, stunned by the woman’s oddly familiar appearance. She is tall, graceful, and her eyes are those of a cat. Much like a witch’s, like the ones from Layre’s bedtime tales. The connection is quickly made in his head. 

“Are you Anima?” He blurts without thinking, and the woman’s head tilts to the side, alarmed. 

“That’s quite enough!” Viessa pushes the woman towards the town. “Let him be, clearly, he knows what it is he’s doing. You are right, we are so very late. Let us go.”  

Just as the women start to go, Layre shouts out. 

“Wait! Wait, please! I need to get to the cabin. Do you know how I can do so?”  

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

“I cannot believe you have allowed a stranger into our home so simply.” Viessa complains, throwing her hands in the air when the other woman shoots her a glare. It reminds Layre fondly of Madris.  

“He knows, Viessa.” Layre grins, proud that his deduction about the strange woman was right. This was Anima, unaged, even after all this time.  

“And that makes it better in what way?” Viessa gets up, producing a dagger from her side and jutting it out. It threatens Layre a few inches from his face. He remains unwavering, unmoved. No small weapon such as this would deter him. “Who are you? Tell us your name and your intentions.” 

“I am Layre Iarberos of Iyelion. I am searching for the lost Demi-God of Vatou. I know of a cabin in the Yelling Steppes where he may be. I also know that it has been enchanted by the witch, Anima. I could not find it on my own, but I was willing to try.” Layre says all in one breath, exhausted by the end of it. His heart hammers in his chest like a caged bird, fluttering and pitiful, desperate for escape. 

“How would one manage that? Walk about the steppes until you stumble into it? That could take years, as big as the steppes are. Are you a fool?” Viessa laughs, pulling the dagger away. “Perhaps we should not worry so much about this man. He is clearly no threat.”  

“It is the only thing I could think to do. If there is another way, do please tell me.” Layre grumbles through his teeth. This entire line of conversation was humiliating for him, and he wanted it over, soon.  

“What do you want with the Mini-God?” The other witch asks, seemingly less concerned with Layre’s presence than Viessa. 

“I mean him no harm; I just need to see him. Have either of you been in contact with him recently?” 

Viessa is about to say something snarky, but the witch cuts her off. Layre watches as her appearance changes right before his eyes. She had cast a spell upon herself, creating a disguise so that none knew what she truly looked like. With the facade down, she looked much softer, her eyes much more caring and gentle. 

“It is true what you say. I am Anima, the witch who took him in. I have not seen him for years. It is much too dangerous now, as he has lost himself to the curse.” Viessa leans over and rubs gently at Anima’s back. This conversation seemed difficult for her. “I tried every spell I knew, but the Almighty Illus’ magic does not budge. Her power overweighs mine a thousand times over.” 

“I am here to save him.” Layre declares, to which Anima perks up. 

“How do we know you’re not bluffing? How do we know you do not wish to kill him, as many have tried before?” Viessa snarls, brows furrowed down to her eyes.  

Layre slides his bag of possessions across the table. Viessa snatches it up, inspecting the interior.  

“Now you have all my possessions, including my weapon. If I have no weapon, I cannot harm him.” 

The two women look to one another, in deep thought amongst one another without having said a word.  

“Fine.” Viessa rolls her eyes. “You may try, but we cannot guarantee that you shall live. He has killed many before, and he will kill many more.” 

“Thank you for your trust. I will make you both proud.” Layre offers, and Anima lets out an amazed laugh. She digs into her bag that is strapped to her side. She draws out a glowing, rose-colored potion. She slides it across the table and into Layre’s hands. He gasps as the potion grows cold in his grasp. It shimmers and shines, and he stares at himself in the vivid reflection.  

“Drink that. It is a Guiding Potion, and it will allow you to see the cabin in the steppes. Once you get there, knock five times on the door, like this.” Anima hits her knuckles on the wall beside her in a strange, erratic pattern. “Be careful of Mageus. He is unwell, and at night he transforms. Prepare yourself for this. Good luck.”