The Anima [completed]

32.

32.

"Now," The elder clapped his hands together, bringing my attention from my imminent personality change back to the task at hand, "lets focus on Lucius today."

I yawned, tasting burning flesh and dust in the air as smoke spilled over into the field. Intrigued, my gaze passed over to the Faerie. Lucius and Alvar were locked in another sparring match, swords swinging and daggers stabbing as they leapt and bound around the fighting circle. Alvar's black hair was slick with sweat, sticking in chunks to his neck. Lucius' lips were dry, parted as he heaved in each breath like it was his last.

"What are we going to do to them? Mind control?" I tilted my head to the side as they continued to fight; unaware of the attention they received from across the field.

"Focus on Lucius. Reach out with your mind just as you do with your Gryphon. Once you can feel his presence in your head, I want you to make him think defence is not in his best interest. He no longer needs to keep his guard up; he will win the fight if he only attacks."

"How do I do that? Do I speak to him as if I was speaking to Beast?"

"No, not entirely. You have to be gentle, caress his mind with your words. And don't ever demand; only suggest it so he believes it was his idea all along. If someone catches you plucking around in their head, it can be very bad for both parties."

"Very bad?" I bit my cheek and scratched the base of my horns.

"You could lose your mind." He shrugged.

I chuckled and sighed lightly.

"If he lowers his guard, Alvar's going to run him straight through." I suggested, gesturing to the shining sword in his grip.

"Yes," the elder shrugged, "but then you can just heal him."

Grinning, I closed my eyes and began to clear my head of cluttering thoughts. I pushed back the itching concerns that weighed down on my conscious. I boxed up my anxieties and fears. And I stamped out the small fires of desperation. When I was clean and clear, my eyes opened and focused on the blonde head of hair across the field. My conscious flowed over to him, circling his moving form as he dodged the stabbing blades. Gently, I reached out and let my influence flow over him. Something flickered under my control, irritated.

"You're a very good fighter," I began slowly, gently pressing each individual word up against the irritation of Lucius conscious, "You're such a good fighter, you don't need to defend yourself. Not a single blade will touch you, as long as you continue to attack without offense."

There was no reply at first, but the irritation flowed into arrogance. Lucius defences slowly dropped. I watched in horror as he lowered his guard, right in time for Alvar's hard swing. The sword glinted above, slicing down with strength, cutting through to the bone of Lucius' exposed shoulder.

Lucius scream rang out across the field as blood began to poor from the open wound. Like a gaping fish, the mass heaved with each of Lucius' heavy breaths, the skin tearing further down his arm. There was only a small amount of tissue holding his arm and shoulder onto his body, the limb dangling dangerously heavy, ready to drop off.

"Lucius!" Alvar cried, dropping his sword. "Lucius, you idiot!"

Alvar collapsed onto the ground beside Lucius and pressed the nearly severed arm back in to its correct placement. It was as if I stood directly next to them, my vision capturing every tiny detail of the events as they unfolded. I could see the individual beads of sweat slipping off Alvar's hair and the whites of Lucius' eyes as they began to roll back into his head. I wanted to laugh and clap my hands together; I had done it; I had made Lucius think he didn't need to defend himself. But as blood gushed from the wound, my smile faltered. Now I would have to begin the task of mending the wound I had created.