A Cure For Immortality

She was the shape of innocence when Proteus first laid his eyes upon her. Two-feet tall with well-rounded cheeks and golden ringlets scattered across her head, she was dressed in a pink t-shirt and denim overalls. There wasn't much of her to begin with, but her tiny stature was dwarfed even further as Proteus approached, his body assuming the giant shape of the child's worst fear as he pushed the forest's foliage aside.

It came as no surprise to him when the child screamed in distress at the sight of his ghastly physique. Given his appearance, or rather, appearances, it was a sound he'd become all too familiar with. Yet, his nature was not one of malice or ill-intent, but rather, of curiosity. His persona, which was kind, albeit with an essence of self-importance, had become worn through centuries of isolation. But there was still kindness there behind those dark green eyes. Somewhere.

It wasn't like the humans to abandon their children, but this child did indeed appear abandoned, which had warranted further investigation; a stark contrast to Proteus' usual 'avoid at all costs' response to humanity. Yet, it was something else that had caught his attention. The child had, somehow, made it past the protective runes that had kept Proteus isolated from the rest of the world. Theoretically, this should have been impossible, for the runes exerted such an influence on the humans it was impossible to step foot onto Proteus' land, regardless of intent. Yet the child was there nonetheless.

Tugging at his newfound wings which had become entangled in a cluster of vines beside him, he stumbled forward towards the infant, almost crushing her below his staggering feet. She'd retired her screams now, and had instead resorted to curling into a foetal position beside the boulder Proteus had somewhat unintentionally trapped her between. Her anxious eyes peaked out from behind the chubby fingers which covered her face. The words didn't come easily, but after a moment of dry coughing and throat clearing, Proteus managed to utter a a short, rather abrupt sentence.

"How did you get in here, through the barrier...?"

The child didn't respond and continued staring through her fingers almost entirely motionless, which, in its own way, was an unusual reaction to Proteus' presence. The standard human, as rarely as they'd come, would flee at the first sight of him, hands flailing in the air pathetically as if to try to save them from the monstrosity they'd witnessed as their feet carried them to safety. The child, however, although perhaps in the most cowardly way, stood her ground. Peering down at the child's miniscule figure, Proteus spoke again.

"That won't protect you, you know?" he said judgingly as the child squeezed more tightly into a ball, and then after a moment of thought, corrected himself quickly. "Not that I mean you any harm, of course..."

Still, he received no response. He sighed, took a few steps back from the child, and collapsed to the forest floor in tired frustration. He could leave, but he felt a strange sense of responsibility for her. At least that's how the self-righteous side of him justified it. The other half of him knew it was more likely a desperate attempt to quench his loneliness after centuries of isolation. Nonetheless, he waited, hoping the child would forgive his monstrous appearance.

Hours passed, and the sun began to sink behind the mountains, casting dark shadows from the leaves of the trees around them. It was peaceful, but the sound of vehicles on the highway a few miles north polluted what could have been a perfectly serene place. Still, it wasn't particularly difficult to convince oneself the sound came from the breeze or from the flowing water in the stream that weaved through the forest. With some help from one's imagination, the serenity of the place could still be appreciated. After a while, Proteus drifted off to sleep, and he found himself alone in the moonlight when he awoke.

Disappointment came first and Proteus sank even lower into the leaves of the forest floor in a poor attempt to bury his frustrations. But it wasn't long before something else came over him; concern. It didn't make sense to feel such an intense emotion for something he'd barely had the chance to observe, but the feeling stuck to him nonetheless.

Where was the child? Who was she? How did she get through the barrier? Had something taken her? Was she safe?

The questions spun around his head like an angry swarm of wasps, stinging at his conscience until finally, he decided to seek answers. As if sensing Proteus' decision, the child's familiar scream in the distance snapped him into action. Yet, as he rose to his feet again, his human feet, he sighed a breath of frustration. Alone once more, the curse had retreated and Proteus was human again. He was weaker now.

If it wasn't for the fact that he had no desire to live for yet another century of monotonous isolation, he would have perhaps abandoned the child then and there. But he didn't. Instead, he clutched to that feeling of hope, and meaning, and desperation, ever so tightly as he ran, barefoot, through the forest towards the child's cries.

He knew the forest all too well, and could tell exactly the direction in which his feet were carrying him - towards the peak of the gorge. It was merely a few moments later when his fears were confirmed as Proteus stepped out into the clearing at the peak of the cliffs. Three wolves had cornered the child's small, defenceless body as she staggered towards the edge, sobbing hopelessly.

It was at least a five hundred foot drop to the ground below, but the child continued to crawl backwards. Her eyes darted between the three snarling wolves which stepped closer each second, the threat of falling from the cliff seemed insignificant in comparison.

Without warning, the wolves snapped into attack, launching themselves at the child as she pushed herself backwards. In the briefest of moments, the child noticed Proteus standing by the clearing. Her gaze caused his body to convulse and change almost instantly, with wings ripping from his back in a flurry of scales. With no one left to turn to, the child sent a final pleading glance in his direction as she watched him transform before tumbling over the edge of the cliff, narrowly missing the snarling bites of the wolves as she fell.

***

Aside from during Freya's younger years, venturing beyond the safeguard of the forest runes was a rare occurrence for Proteus. After the incident with the wolves, and fighting back against his own loneliness, he'd made the decision to leave the child by the door of St Mary's Orphanage which sat by the outskirts of town. It was a difficult decision, given his innate desire to raise the child himself in hopes of forming some sort of connection, or some form of anything that wasn't rooted in fear. But alas, he knew that his forest prison was no place to raise a child. So he made an internal compromise; allowing himself to visit Freya at the orphanage under the cover of night every week. He'd convinced himself it was to ensure her safety, but the other half of him knew it was also to seek answers.

Where did she come from?

And perhaps, more importantly:

How did she get past the runes?

None of it made sense. She was human, but was seemingly immune to the runes' influence, a trait held only by those with magic in their blood. Thus, finding answers became Proteus' new purpose. Venturing beyond the runes was risky as it would take only the briefest encounter with another human to expose his existence and attract the attention of his mother; someone he'd spent centuries hiding from, for humanity's sake.

"No one can ever know about me, Freya," Proteus had said one evening from outside the window of her room.

"Why not?" Freya asked as she snuggled deeper into her bed. She was only seven, but knew better than to try and catch a glimpse of Proteus. She'd had far too many terrifying encounters with him already. But she knew, deep down, he was a friend, and so they continued their conversations in the darkness, never looking at one another.

"Because she'll find me."

"Your mother?"

"Precisely."

"But... Don't you miss her?"

Proteus smiled a sad smile, still hiding in the shadows outside of Freya's view.

"My mother is a complicated woman. Unfortunately, she would rather eradicate the source of her fears than ever convince herself to love them."

"I don't... I don't understand."

"I stole something of hers, and she needs it back in order to mould the world into what she believes is a better place; a place without fear, or love, or death."

"That doesn't sound all bad," Freya whispered.

"Life only has meaning if it has an end, Freya. Much like how love only has worth if one fears losing it."

"I still don't get it," Freya whispered sleepily, and partially bored of the conversation. "But I'm good at keeping secrets, so don't worry."

It didn't take long for Proteus to realise Freya had none of the answers he sought. She didn't even know who her parents were, and had no memories of them at all. Yet, she'd become a friend, and Proteus had no intention to abandon such a precious connection, for it had become the new meaning of his existence. Immortal and unable to be killed, he clung to that meaning as tightly as ever.

When she was nine, Mr and Mrs Thorley had adopted Freya, and she was forced to leave the orphanage. It was a minor inconvenience given that they lived just a few streets away from the orphanage downtown, and in the end, it worked out to be beneficial. On the weekends, outside of school time, they allowed her to visit Proteus in the woods. 'Allowed' was perhaps a misleading label for it; Freya would tell them she was playing with friends, and would sneak into the woods instead. From that point onwards, Proteus would rarely leave his section of the forest, allowing Freya to visit him. It was safer that way, with less chance of his mother finding them. Privacy was almost guaranteed within the barriers of his runes, which he checked on for damages almost daily, repairing any worn sections. Yet, the fact that Freya had found a way through them when she was younger made Proteus uneasy, and lead him to question whether he was ever really as safe there as he'd believed.

***

"Well, when you really think about it, I actually saved myself," Freya chuffed with a sly smile. She tapped on the top of the boulder playfully from where she sat, waiting to see if Proteus would take the bait. He did.

"And how does one figure that?"

"Because I needed to see you in order for you to turn back into the dragon. If I hadn't looked at you, you'd have just been a useless... human."

They laughed for a moment, and Freya turned to catch a glimpse of Proteus beside her. She immediately regretted it, winced, and averted her eyes, hoping he wouldn't take offense. He didn't.

The long spider legs which had protruded from his cloak moments before began to retract, blending back into human arms as Freya's gaze returned to the surrounding forest. Her fears had shifted over the years. Being saved by a dragon when she was an infant was enough to help her overcome her fear of the beast shortly afterwards. For several years after that, Proteus' curse took the form of a wolf; an obvious phobia to have developed given the circumstances. More recently, however, that fear had been conquered too. Now, in her teen years, perhaps as a result of her outer-city lifestyle and the influence of other humans, spiders had become her new fear. Most of the time, Proteus was able to hide himself under a long cloak, thus keeping him human in Freya's presence, but catching even the slightest glimpse of what lay beneath would cause his metamorphosis to take hold. As a result, they often had their conversations back-to-back, staring out into the lush greenery of the surrounding forest as they conversed.

"Humans aren't useless."

"I suppose... They don't have wings though. Pretty useless when you're diving down the face of a cliff if you ask me."

Proteus nodded in surrender. The girl had a point.

"Surely you cannot truly remember that? It was well over a decade ago, and you were an infant."

Freya shrugged, "I remember enough."

Their weekly meetings, which had become customary, were often filled with wisecracking recounts of their lives in the forest, as well as Freya's tales of her life in the human world. She told stories of humanity's achievements; how they'd cured diseases, built skyscrapers, and even ventured to the moon itself. Proteus, on the other hand, would share his memories of the old world; a world of magic and mystery which had been long since forgotten.

"What is it your mother wants from you exactly?" Freya had asked one afternoon.

"Well, it's complicated..." Proteus trailed off, trying to figure out where to begin. "The old world, and I suppose the new one too, is chaotic. People fall in love, people die, some are in pain and are afraid while others flourish. My mother wanted to stop all of that, to control it, and to create a world that she saw as perfect. One that was truly equal. In order to do that, she vowed to eradicate magic from the world altogether, apart from her own..."

"And did she?"

"Almost," Proteus sighed sadly. "But it came at great cost."

"You mean your curse?"

"My existence. I am the curse, Freya. You know this. I've never been anything but this... And I can never die. I can never be free, unless I let mother find me. But you know what will happen if she does, and we can never let that happen..."

Freya could hear the sadness in his voice, but she pressed on. Proteus was rarely in the mood to talk about his life, so when the opportunity arose, she leapt at the chance for answers.

"So... You were born this way, yeah? And your mother..." Freya trailed off, trying to piece things together.

"My mother," Proteus began, "Created me, as mothers do. But not in the way humans perceive creation. When she banished magic from the rest of the world, she created me, somewhat accidentally. All the fear, and chaos and hate, it-"

Freya interjected, "So you're a hate baby? A baby literally made of negativity and fear," she teased.

Proteus didn't answer, but the silence answered the question for her.

"Well, you may look like that," Freya continued, "but that's not what you are now. It's not what you are to me."

"Thank yo-" Proteus paused. For a moment he swore he'd seen something move in the distance behind one of the trees. He stared in silence, surveying the land, but there was nothing there.

"You ok?"

"Yes. Fine - it's nothing."

Freya could sense Proteus' discomfort with the topic, and knew from experience that pressing too hard for answers never got them anywhere. She'd become good at knowing when to stop, which was usually around the time Proteus would spontaneously change the topic of their conversation.

"Come," Proteus said after embracing the silence for a moment, "I have a surprise for you."

His hut, which was a short walk down the mountain from the boulder they'd both unanimously coined 'our spot', was small, but contained everything he'd ever needed for the isolated life he'd lived.

A bed, garnished with fur hides for the winter sat in the corner. A fireplace with a large cooking pot was placed on the far side. A table, which really was just a large tree stump he'd chiselled away at and covered with some undistinguishable varnish-like substance, took the centre of the room, alongside a set of beautifully crafted wooden chairs only the finest carpenter could have crafted. To the right of the entryway was Proteus' food storage space; too small to be a kitchen, but too large to be merely a pantry. Knives and utensils hung by hooks on the wall, with shelves packed with tightly sealed jars and tins on the side, each containing mysterious items of peculiar shapes and colours. Lighting was provided by a large electric lantern which Freya had gifted to him one year after becoming frustrated by her unsuccessful attempts to light torches. She'd made a few other changes to the place over the years, the most notable request was the addition of a bathroom, which Proteus had begrudgingly installed outside of the hut for her.

"The forest is one's bathroom," Proteus would often say. But to Freya, who'd grown up in the outskirts of the city, this wasn't an option. 'Bathroom' was perhaps a generous description. It was merely a hole in the ground with a hollow tree stump placed on top and a mesh-covered fence around it for privacy. But it was enough.

"Close your eyes," Proteus said after seating Freya at his table. She obeyed, a curious smile teasing at her lips.

After a moment of rustling though some of the shelves in the far corner of the hut, Proteus placed something on the table and stepped away, stopping behind Freya outside her range of vision.

"You may open them now. Surprise!"

Freya's face crinkled into a confused smile.

"Bug spray?" she chuckled.

"To keep you safe from spiders."

They laughed for a moment.

"Where did you even get this from?"

"Some hikers left a backpack by the river last week and I borrowed a few of their items."

"Ohhhhh, so this is a stolen gift... And you crossed the barrier?" Freya's playful tone suddenly became one of concern.

"Well, I suppose... But only for a moment. Nobody saw me."

Freya nodded in response, deciding to let it go so as to not appear ungrateful, then jumped up from her chair, closing her eyes as she turned towards Proteus and extending her arms.

"Thanks, Pro," she said, blindly stepping into a hug. Sharing a hug was a strange experience for them. Freya would always keep her eyes closed to avoid triggering the transformation, but she had no idea what Proteus looked like in his natural form, and so her entire image of him was based on what she'd derived from their blind hugs. He was tall, about six foot, had long silky hair, and was slightly muscular but also had a decent amount of what Mr Thorley always described as 'extra weight for the winter'.

"I should probably head home," Freya said. "You know how Mrs Thorley gets when I'm not home before sundown."

"Agreed," Proteus sighed somewhat sadly. "Same time next week?"

"Of course!"

Freya slipped out of the hug, turning her back to Proteus and opening her eyes once more as she headed for the door. Proteus' attention was suddenly drawn to the window as something moved in the distance outside, sending chills up his spine as he recognised the familiar shape.

"Freya," Proteus called, panic starting to raise in his voice. She paused by the doorway, but it was already too late.

"Yea-"

A small dart appeared in the side of Freya's neck and she collapsed to the floor moments later. Without a second thought, Proteus ran to her side.

"Freya!" he yelled, trying to shake her awake. She was still breathing but was completely unresponsive.

Cautiously, Proteus stepped out of the hut into the forest, searching for any sign of motion. Aside from the light breeze which rippled through the pine trees around them, there was nobody there. A tingling sensation drew his attention to his hands, and he gasped as dark scales began to sprout from them. Someone was looking at him. Moments later, his head began to spin and he collapsed to the forest floor. As his vision blurred, he glanced back at Freya hopelessly before everything faded to black.

***

When Proteus awoke, a large weighted blanket had been draped across his entire body. The thick fabric had blocked out almost all light, and had trapped a hot cloud of air, causing beads of sweat to seep from his skin. Out of sight, he was human once more. His hands were tied behind his back and tightly secured to the chair he was sat on, and he knew, based on the scent of the room and the uneven floorboards below, that he was back in his hut. Three men, dressed in military uniforms and holding dart guns, stood by the far wall by the fireplace almost motionless.

"Freya?"

"Pro, it's her. It's your mother. She's found us," Freya said from beside Proteus, her voice ringing with panic as she struggled against the ropes which bound her. As if she'd been waiting for her grand introduction, Nügua stepped into the hut. Her long black hair was styled into intricate braids that curled around her head like serpents. Her skin, which was fundamentally flawless, other than its ashy white colour, glistened in the afternoon sunlight. She was beautiful and youthful, or at least, in appearance.

"Hello again, my darling boy. It's been a while."

"Still set on destroying the world?" Proteus retorted.

"My intentions are to save it. They always have been," Nügua snapped. Her expression softened as she turned and met Freya's fierce eyes. "And hello to you too, my darling Bastet... or whatever name it is they've given you this time. Freya, I believe?"

Freya paused, her face crinkling into an expression that could only be described as 'angry confusion', before she let out a rather uncertain "...What?"

Nügua smiled slyly, finding amusement in Freya's temper. She continued, still looking at Freya like a prowling tiger, and perfectly aware she was making little sense to either of her two captives.

"Has your brother been taking care of you?"

Freya turned to Proteus, his body still entirely obscured by the blanket, "What's she talking about?"

"I... I don't know."

Nügua, leaping at the opportunity to exert her intellectual superiority, continued.

"As you're aware, my attempts to cure, well, the world failed - miserably, and instead I created humanoid manifestations of what I'd hoped to control; Proteus, born from fear and chaos, and Freya, born from love, life and spontaneity. Beautiful, but unfortunately, you stole the magic I needed to finish my plans, didn't you, dear? You never even got the chance to meet your sister."

Nügua turned to Proteus with a mildly annoyed expression on her face. Freya's jaw dropped, but she remained silent this time, allowing Nügua to continue her lecture. "You're both immortal, except Proteus, like me, doesn't age and is immune to any illness or injury, whereas you, on the other hand, Bas- I mean, Freya, you age like a normal human, and die like one too. But are reborn an infant - reincarnated. Every. Single. Time. Funny how magic works, isn't it?"

The room fell silent for a moment as the pieces clicked together in Proteus' mind.

"It was you," he whispered from beneath the weighted blanket. Nügua and Freya turned to Proteus, both wearing entirely opposite expressions of satisfied amusement and angered confusion. "You gave Freya to me, didn't you? Why?"

"Call it a social experiment. I'd hoped reuniting you two would kickstart the first stage of the spell. But fifteen years later and..." Nügua trailed off and waved her hands in the air in frustration. "Unfortunately, no matter how many times Freya is reborn, she never takes my side, and she wasn't exactly on board with the plan this time either. So, as always, that meant I had to," she pointed finger guns at Freya and mimed a gunshot, "reset her." She paused a moment, enjoying the dramatic effect, and then continued. "Unfortunately, the younger she is, the less magical power she has so I had to wait for her to... ripen. And of course, giving her to you gave me the chance to add a little extra curse to the mix - once she was old enough, it deactivated your runes and, well, here I am now to reap the rewards so to say. It's been thousands of years, my children, and the world is still in chaos. People love and hate and die needlessly. So let's change it? Let me take control, let me help the world. If I can do that, no one will ever need to be afraid again."

"That's not living, mother. Not really," Proteus muttered quietly.

"Yes I thought you'd say that," Nügua rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air in an overly animated fashion, "which is why I'm going to ignore you and do it anyway."

Nügua closed her eyes and began chanting. Almost instantly, Proteus and Freya could feel their energy been drawn from them as Nügua began to reclaim her power. As Proteus' head dropped, his gaze locked onto something. The edge of the blanket was caught on one of the rough floorboards between his feet. Not wasting another second, he whispered to Freya beside him.

"I need you to look at me."

"What?"

"When I say, just do it."

One of the henchman stepped closer, gun-in-hand, ready to whack them both into silence. But the second he was within reach, Proteus kicked his feet outwards, sending the henchman flying backwards in one direction, and Proteus in another. The weighted blanket, still stuck between the floorboards, remained in place, and fresh air ran over his skin once more as he hit the floor.

"Now! Look at me!"

Freya, twitching with fear and stark shock, looked towards Proteus. His body convulsed as long sets of black legs protruded from beneath his cloak, fangs descended from his mouth and his body grew, snapping the constraints.

The henchman let out a scream from the floor where he lay which was muffled as the spider lunged at his feeble body, killing him instantly. Hands trembling, the other two men raised their weapons to attack, but it was futile. With everyone in the room looking at Proteus, his form morphed and changed constantly as he danced around the room. Stopping her chant, Nügua kept her eyes closed and yelled at the others to do the same, but it was too late.

A bear - CRUNCH. The second henchman was crushed between a set of powerful jaws.

A spider again - BITE. The third henchman received a nasty bite to the leg and screamed, opening his eyes once more.

A serpent - HISS. Nügua was impaled by the serpent's fangs. With her eyes still closed, she screamed and struck a powerful blow to its head, snapping one of the fangs. Proteus recoiled and dropped her to the floor, but he didn't stop.

A spider again - SNAP. The third henchman, who had begun to crawl for the exit, was crushed into the floorboards. Dead.

Then, almost as quickly as the commotion had begun, the hut became still. The bodies of the three henchman lay scattered around the room. Freya averted her eyes, and Proteus returned to his human form, collecting his half torn cloak from the floor and covering himself.

Spluttering and wounded, Nügua stood up, tearing the serpent's fang from her chest. Her face had turned a faded green colour as the venom surged through her, but her immortality outlasted it. Already, the wound from the fang had begun to heal. In a fit of rage, she pulled a dagger from her sheath, glared at Freya, and lunged. But Proteus intervened, deflecting her blade with his hand, and driving a broken chair leg into her chest. Nügua's eyes locked onto Proteus - his body had transformed once more. This time, however, he was not a beast as he had been with the guards, he had become Nügua herself. A tear fell from her cheek as she stared into her own eyes in utter terror before she collapsed to the floor, but this time she showed no sign of recovery. She lay motionless for a moment, and then crumbled to dust.

"How did a wooden chair stop her, but a giant serpent couldn't?" Freya exclaimed, shaken and confused.

"One is only as strong as their greatest fear..."

But Freya's attention had already shifted.

"Pro..." Freya cried as she looked at her brother.

The blood had drained from his face and he looked more weathered and frail than ever before. The most curious part, however, was that he was human, even when subject to Freya's gaze. Too weak to support his own weight, he collapsed to the floor. Freya gasped and averted her gaze, and the colour returned to his cheeks.

"Looks like your fears have changed once more," he chuckled, collecting himself and standing back up.

"I guess so..."

Proteus sighed a long-awaited breath of relief, and then continued in a more serious tone.

"Freya, you know what this means, right? Your greatest fear is losing me... It's a cure... One day, I'll ask you to look upon me for the last time so that I may rest, and so that my life can find meaning in its conclusion... But that day is not today. My - I mean - our mother was just one of many who shared her twisted views. We have much work to do before then."

Freya nodded in response, still terrified by her newfound fear. But she seemed taller now; braver, more capable, and more loving than ever before. Proteus, fear himself, on the other hand, smiled. Finally, he had found a cure for his immortality and he treasured the realisation that, while perhaps not for many more years, one day, love would finally lay fear to rest.