Eight: His Blood or His Bed 

It is noon when Layre has enough courage to drink the potion. It leaves an unsettling, nauseous pit in his stomach. He forces himself to not dwell on the feeling, as he is deep into the steppes now. The vast desert looks no different than it did this morning, but in the far distance, atop a steep, sandy hill, is a weathered cabin. It sits alone, a glimmering piece of hope for Layre in this vast, empty landscape. 

He makes quick work of the desert, but the cabin is several miles into the steppes, so it takes him two hours more until he is upon the structure. It creaks from its age and the harsh overcast sun beating down on it with little mercy. Layre approaches the door, observing how worn the handle is. It was, at some point, visited frequently. If what Anima said was true, that had not been the case for the last few years.  

Layre does as instructed; he knocks five times in the pattern Anima so graciously replicated for him.  

For a while, it is silent, but slowly and cautiously, the door opens to reveal a man.  

Mageus is nothing like Layre imagined. Even with all the variations he pictured in his head, none could capture his ethereal beauty. They couldn’t even compare. His hair was long and white, braided majestically and settled on his right shoulder. He was shorter than Layre, which was a surprise, as Layre figured any being with divine blood would be incredibly tall.  

He supposed Mageus was partly mortal, after all. It made sense that a few things were not as divine. This did not mean, of course, that he was lacking in any way. Not to Layre, at least. 

Mageus’ frame was slight, but he still held defined muscle. He was not too skinny, but he was not sculpted like the son of a God should be. Layre wondered if that he was this way because he was raised among mortals, or if it was simply what a Demi-God was meant to look like. 

When Layre looked down into his eyes, he noticed their bright purple glimmer, shining and questioning. His water lines were stained dark, likely from his curse, causing him to cry black blood often. Layre had read about it during his research. It gave the Demi-God the appearance of wearing woman’s face cosmetics.  

He was a beautiful thing to behold. So much so that Layre felt unworthy of it. 

Before Layre could stare much longer or call his greetings, Mageus slammed the door shut. The vibrations of his force shook the whole cabin, which croaked and groaned with despair.  

“Get away from here!” He calls through the door, sounding saddened. “You have not long left until your demise.” 

“I know it is the moonlight that turns you. May I have a moment of your time before nightfall?” Layre calls out, and Mageus falls silent. He is silent for a long while before he seems to make up his mind. 

He reopens the door, leaning on its frame.  

“Who are you?” He stares up at Layre with defiance.  

“I am Layre Iarberos.” He says, feeling embarrassed now. He felt he had to announce himself many times lately, but having to do so directly to Mageus felt much more vulnerable to him. Nonetheless, he goes on while Mageus has given him this chance to explain himself. “I am from Iyelion. My father told me of your curse, and I wish to save you. I have wished my whole life to do so, and I have trained accordingly for the task. I plan to kill the Four, to free Iyelion, the Shaded World, and all of Solmeris.”  

“It is impossible.” Mageus retorts quickly, mouth curling into a feeble grin. “I have heard it time and time again. No warrior, no matter how strong, can kill the Almighty Gods.” 

“I know that I can.” Layre challenges, and Mageus waves his hand in the air, wishing to dismiss him.  

“I shall believe it when I see you do so, dear.” He says, and Layre blushes at the teasing nickname. The Demi-God is about to shut him out again, when Layre calls out desperately.  

“I will need your help, though! If I plan to save you.”  A pause, and then more frantically, “Please, let me try. I have come a long way, and it would be dreadful if I had not at least tried. May I just speak with you for a moment? I will not take a lot of your time.” Layre reaches to stop the door, and Mageus stares grimly at his hand.  

Mageus holds his gaze for a long while, clearly working through a whirlwind of thoughts before he settles on one that Layre is most pleased with.  

“Fine. I will hear you out, I suppose. Come in.”  

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

Layre gets himself comfortable on the couch in Mageus’ cabin. It is made of old leather and is cool to the touch. 

“I apologize for my cabin’s disarray. I do not expect visitors. Ever.” He says, tidying up the best he can. Little does he know, Layre is hardly staring at anything but him.  

“It is quite alright. I know my arrival was spontaneous.”  

Once Mageus has deemed the cabin clean enough, he settles down beside Layre on the couch. The air is thick now, full of anxiety on Layre’s part and mistrust on Mageus’. It was a risk to allow someone unknown into one’s home, but Layre carried with him no weapon to do any harm. If anyone could do harm, it would be Mageus.  

“I also apologize for my hostility. I assure you I am not so irritable always.” He laughs, and Layre feels himself smile. “It is simply because everyone who finds this cabin wants something from me. Whether it be my blood or my bed, I find that nobody ever wants to just talk to me. So, I took your intentions as rotten, as I do most.”  

“You need not apologize, I assure you that. Your apprehension is understandable.” Layre leans back on the couch, taking a long look at Mageus now. “I want neither of those, I promise you.” 

“For some reason, I believe you. Is that foolish of me?” Mageus hangs his head down into his hands.  

“No, it is not. You are part mortal, after all. Our mortal blood is what makes us foolish, but it is also what gives us character.” Layre reassures. 

Mageus glances up at him and offers him a pained smile. 

“Well then.” He changes the subject, “In what way did you locate my cabin?” 

When Layre is done explaining his encounters with Viessa and Anima, Mageus lets out a long breath.  

“That seems typical of them. They are much too trusting, but I cannot blame them. I find your words and intentions sincere, but there is one thing I am still unsure of.” Mageus stands, settling his hands on his hips and pacing the small cabin. Layre looks up at him, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“What may that be?” He urges Mageus to tell him. 

“What is it you want? You seem so willing to save me, but surely there is something you seek in return. And, most unfortunately, I will tell you now; there are no wishes I can grant nor riches I can promise. My power is limited, and it is something I have yet to fully understand.”  

Layre stays seated, making fierce eye contact with Mageus that he hopes will speak his feelings so that he does not have to.  

“I swear to you, I am here for the greater good of Solmeris. All I want is to give my people the peace they deserve.” Layre pauses, chewing at his lip. “My mother was devoured by Almighty Lectric. I would find closure in knowing no God may ever harm anyone ever again.”  

“Oh...” Mageus frowns with sympathy. “As you likely know, I never was able meet my own mother. She was killed long before I had the chance, but I understand the anger you must have for the Gods.” He pauses. “That being said, I still do not feel confident in your plan to kill them. It is not as simple as walking to the palace and slaying them.” 

“I know it, but I also know that there must be a way to break your curse. And, if I can do so, then you can help me. From there, I know we can find a way.” Layre says gallantly, truly believing every word he speaks.  

Mageus cannot help but grin at his eagerness but pauses when he sees that the day is growing dark. The moon is beginning its slow trail up the sky, and soon he would turn into a hideous beast, incapable of controlling his actions. 

“You must leave, now! Go back to Viessa and Anima. They will protect you.” Mageus grabs Layre’s hand and hauls him into a standing position.  

“But--” Layre begins, even as Mageus is shoving him towards the door.  

“Go! You do not have much time before I am no longer in control.”  

“Do you accept? Will you help me?” Layre asks, ignoring his warning and fighting the force of the Demi-God as he tries to shove him out the door. Mageus’ strength is greater than his, of course. So, he stumbles on his feet, now outside of the cabin. 

The bell tower rings loudly in the distance. 

Layre catches a glimpse of the man’s face. It has started to morph into a grotesque creature, and Layre knows that his time to talk is up. He turns and sprints for the steppe, making it to the town just in time to hear the appalling, deafening cries of Mageus as he finishes his transformation, starts lurking the town, and becomes overwhelmingly ravenous for blood.