Eleven: Take Control 

Layre spends around two weeks more in the steppes, sleeping at Anima and Viessa’s home. In the morning, he would load up his satchel with calming and guiding potions. In the evening, he would traverse the steppe with Mageus, listening as he droned on about his hunting techniques and other, more personal things. He had lived in the cabin on the steppe for many decades now, so his hunting was near perfect. At nights, Layre would stay just as long as he possibly could before Mageus would transform. He would then return to Anima and Viessa’s home to help with chores and dinner before heading to bed. 

He had noticed a slight difference in the creature’s attitude toward him, lately. It seemed to grow angrier the longer he spent around Mageus. It had Mageus shoving him out the front door before the moon even came out. Layre was not pleased with it. 

So, one morning while they were hunting together in the steppes, Layre conjured up the courage to ask Mageus about it himself.  

“Why did Anima and Viessa stop visiting you?” He says into the quiet air. Mageus was tracking an antelope herd as it made its slow way across the steppes. Surprised by the sudden break in silence, he lowers his loaded bow. The arrowhead digs into the dirt beside his feet. 

“It is because of the creature, as is most typical. When people get close to me, it grows mad. It has always driven people away.” Mageus mumbles, looking away. Layre had learned that Mageus found shame in many things about himself. This part of him especially; it was a prime example of it. 

“It must be jealous of your charms.” Layre teases, and Mageus lets out a little laugh. 

“Your attempts to flirt with me are truly dreadful.” He shifts, setting his bow down and leaning back into the grass. He takes a rubber band from his wrist and starts to tie up his long hair. Layre can see from here that he is smirking. 

“May I braid it?” Layre asks. “Your hair.”  

Mageus’ hands fell to his side dramatically. He regards Layre for a moment, amazed by the request. His eyes, clear and beautiful, gaze longingly into Layre’s. He drops his head into a slow, unsure nod.  

Layre leans over, settling down on a knee. He takes Mageus’ long, silvery hair into his hands. It is incredibly soft, as expected of a Demi-God. He runs his fingers through the ends, ridding of any loose knots. He feels Mageus shiver at his touch. A blush rises hot on Layre’s face. This was rather intimate, wasn’t it?  

“How did you learn to braid?” Mageus asks, lifting a small, withered white flower. He twirls it in his fingers until it is nothing but dust that drops to the grass below.  

“Elisen, my mother. She liked her hair long, but she found taming it dreadful.” Layre rambled, twisting the first row of the braid tightly. He would loosen it with his fingers at the end, but for now, it was perfectly taut. “And my father did not like to do such things.”  

“What was his name?” Mageus asks.  

“Silvyr.”  

“Does he still live?”  

“Yes, in Iyelion. I will return to him once I save you.” Layre pulls another two rows tight, and he feels Mageus shift. He is turning his head so that he can catch Layre’s eyes. Layre is touched by the emotion swirling through them. Had he said something to cause it? 

“You seem so sure that you can save me. Why?”  

“Because I know that I can.” Is all Layre says, and Mageus does not argue with it.  

“I still may not leave Vatou. I have tried many times, but when I attempt the path upward, the one along the valley, my body begins to fade away.” Mageus’ voice falls flat, clearly angered by his reality. He softly adds, “And the people here do not wish to see me. Anima hid me in this cabin, as too many people sought my death.” 

Layre says nothing, afraid if he does, Mageus will close back up.  

“I have killed hundreds, if not thousands of Vatouns. I do not blame them for wanting my death.”  

“You did not kill them. The creature who takes your body as a host did.” Layre corrects, now finding it a good time to interrupt him.  

“Thank you, Layre, for saying that. Sometimes I forget the creature and I are not the same.” Mageus replies, and Layre finds himself pleased that the interjection boded well with the Demi-God. He was finding just how far Mageus’ boundaries went, and when he did find that limit, he would do his best to respect it. 

Though most unfortunately, this line of conversation does not bode well with the creature. Mageus suddenly snaps his neck to the side, staring straight at Layre. The braid is forgotten, and it falls loosely onto Mageus’ back, losing its neat shape. Layre starts to crawl backward, away from the transforming man.  

“I’m sorry...” Mageus croaks beneath the creature’s force, his eyes already crying black. “I do not want this...”  

Layre pauses his movement, observing Mageus. His teeth have begun to grow long, his claws grow hard and dark, ready to kill.  

“The sun...” He cries out, dropping to his side. The creature is trying to live during the day, but it cannot. Layre rushes forward now, palms outstretched. He takes Mageus’ face into his hands, re-directing the creature’s stare to him. The creature cannot look him in the eyes and instead lets out a harrowing scream. It slashes its half-formed claws about, spewing black blood from anywhere it can.  

It was trying to escape. 

“Mageus!” Layre yells right into the man’s face. “Focus on me, Mageus! Do not let it take control!”  

The creature’s eyes roll into the back of its head, and when they re-arrive moments later, they are calmer. Mageus had regained consciousness. Gasping and breathless, Mageus slumps forward into Layre’s chest. He coughs, spitting up more hideous, dark blood, a blood that burns when it hits Layre’s unprotected skin. Layre can feel the sizzle from its heat against his chest.  

Mageus heaves for air one more time, having finally found it now. He turns over, resting his head properly in Layre’s lap. He stares up at Layre in a ghostly manner, eyes pale and weak. Layre makes eye contact with him, face drawn up in concern.      

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.  

“Yes, I am alright.” Mageus responds, pausing for a moment after. Then, he adds with haste, “I’ve never done that before.” 

“Done what?”  

“Taken back control.” 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

With this new discovery, Layre felt a great hope. If Mageus could learn to control the beast, he could reunite him and the women. Together, they had a better chance of breaking Mageus’ curse. When he tells the women about what happened out on the steppe, they just stare at him, speechless. Anima nearly drops her tea onto the floor. 

Viessa speaks first. “This is marvelous, right? Is this not what you have wanted for so long?” She reaches for Anima, who is immovable. Viessa settles and sets her hand on Anima’s shoulder. 

“It is happening.” is all Anima says. She shoots a stern glare at Layre. “You are changing him. How?” 

“I am not sure.” Layre admits, feeling sheepish about it all. He wished he knew more, but there was only so much that was known about the curse. The only one who knew how to save Mageus was Illus, and she would not help in any lifetime. She was surely just as wicked in every possible one.  

Viessa seems to be deep in thought now, and for a while, they all fall silent. Layre feels his heart hammer again, the fluttering bird had returned, afraid. 

“Layre, how do you feel for Mageus?” She finally speaks, catching Layre off-guard. What kind of question was that? 

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“Do you have affections for him?” Anima catches on, asking in place for Viessa. She takes a breath before she mumbles, “Because, I think he has developed some for you.”