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LYKOS

Third Age

Chapter 21

(The Sands of Eternity)

Cold… biting cold. It seeped up through his spine and took root in his joints. He was stiff along his shoulders and ribs. His legs felt like they were being squeezed. Curtis winced, clenching his eyes shut tighter as he tried to move his fingers. They traced through coarse, cold grains of sand. Curtis tried to shift his weight and the sand gave. It was strange how it could be so firm and soft at the same time. There was no moisture, it wasn't beach sand. Curtis finally opened his eyes to see a sky painted in deep tones of navy blue and violet. The stars were so bright and distinct he could practically see the constellation lines connecting them. Curtis licked at his dry lips and forced himself upright, his hands sinking into the sand as he rose.

The sand stretched out as far as he could see in every direction, rising and falling in dunes that looked like ocean waves frozen in place. As the breeze picked up into a gust, it howled like a pack of distant wolves before falling into silence once more. Turning his head, Curtis was met with the largest full moon he had ever seen. It hung there, just above the horizon, rich and creamy white. Like the stars, he'd never been able to make out the craters so easily before. Wherever he was, it was more detailed than a dream. Swallowing what little saliva remained in his throat, Curtis pushed up to his feet.

The wind blew the grains of sand out of his curly brown hair, enough for him to realize it was a little longer than it had been at school. The mane of curls reached half way down his neck, framing his face, billowing outward. It was the way he'd worn his hair when he'd first become a Cernos and connected to nature, before he'd met… Thackary. Pleasure and pain, love and loss, all of those feelings knotted up inside of Curtis as he thought about his unlikely lover. The beautiful blond barista, the boy he felt compelled and drawn to… As Curtis held on to that feeling, he turned his head slightly.

In the distance, just above the dip between two dunes was a glint of light. Whatever it was, Curtis felt it was important. That spot would lead him back to Thackary so he could hug him and kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Putting one foot in front of the other, Curtis started trudging down the slope of the dune. The sand was cold against his bare skin and he sank in enough that each step took far too much energy, but better to travel now when the sand was cold than when it became too hot to walk on. No matter the distance, no matter the risk, he had to get back to Thackary.

****

The door to the hotel room swung open with too much ease, nearly swinging back far enough to hit the rubber door stopper on the wall. Tychon grimaced a little, stepping into the space just ahead of Atsu. Compared to the sort of accommodations his master frequented, the Echo Creek hotel was a hovel. It had been tolerable for a short visit, but the longer they stayed here the more terrible it seemed. Still, their request for a room without a window had been an unusual one. It seemed that the neglected space above the kitchens had missed out on the most recent renovations, leaving it a bit dated. Atsu exhaled as he slipped his jacket off, then pulled his shirt open without minding the buttons.

“I cannot believe what is afoot here." Atsu said as Tychon closed the door behind them. Brandishing his hand to reveal short, sharp, silver claws, he traced along the door frame and left a faintly green shimmering line. It remained for a moment before fading from sight once the rectangle had been completed.

“Forgive me, master, but in your long life, haven't you seen the otherkin fight one another?" Tychon asked, taking Atsu's shirt to examine it for any damage he needed to mend. Atsu moved over to the mini-bar and opened it, gazing down out of habit at the tiny bottles of alcohol and overpriced candies. Atsu didn't look up as he answered.

“Only a fool believes that no new ideas are invented, that everything that could be written has already been written." He said softly, “But I suppose you are right. It feels new that the werewolves are in the open. It feels new that they announced themselves to the world. They declared Echo Creek a safe space and the world is tripping over itself to try and prove them wrong." Atsu said. He finally lifted his head in surprise as he felt his brush starting to sink into his long black hair. He glanced over his shoulder at Tychon fulfilling his duties as ever. “Does it not concern you, my friend?" Atsu asked. Tychon's hand slowed, the brush coming to a stop on his shoulder. Tychon's brow tightened a little.

“I suppose it reminds me of…" Tychon trailed off. Atsu gave a sad smile.

“You do not need to fear breaking me. I am made of sturdier stuff." Atsu said gently. Tychon swallowed.

“It reminds me of how we lost Master Bek. Your own kin, your own descendants in a way… One supernatural turning on another. I can't let such things hurt you again." Tychon promised. Atsu said nothing for a long moment, his gaze sinking back to the floor. Ren's questions replayed through his mind, especially those she had asked when Marco had distracted Tychon. Atsu knew Tychon couldn't have done those things, but how many years had they been orbiting the pain and grief of losing Bek? It had taken Atsu so long to recover some sense of self and purpose, but how much of that had Tychon taken on?

When Atsu started to look up, Tychon's caress guided his head. Atsu's eyes met Tychon's but they were already shifting. The black spilled out of his irises like a river breaking over its banks. The black seemed to sink deeper and deeper into oblivion and when Atsu felt that he might just fall forward into the twin black holes, the slightest edges of silver formed like twin crescent moons. The pull was magnetic and ancient, but so was Atsu. He held his ground, at least until those silver sickles in the onyx black began to glisten with rich crimson red light. Atsu's defenses crumbled and he shuddered his breath, feeling Tychon's hand on his cheek.

“Master, what worries you so?" Tychon asked softly. Atsu's muscles were tight, his normally flawless shoulders looking contorted as some part of him struggled.

“I worry about you…" Atsu nearly hissed. Tychon tilted his head a little.

“You worry about me, or for me?" Tychon asked.

“B-both…" Atsu replied. Tychon murmured a little. He never could have used his powers on a vampire as a mere Naga, but when he had added a vampire's strength to his own his power of hypnosis had more than doubled.

“You will fret no more about me, master. I am your loving and loyal servant, as always. I will serve you and bring you joy. I will do what needs done. It is time for you to rest, master. The sun will be rising soon." Tychon whispered. Atsu's face seemed to soften even if his body did not. Tychon's lips parted, a forked tongue emerging a little, tasting the air. The darkness receded from Tychon's eyes and Atsu nearly fell forward. He blinked a bit, rolling his shoulders.

“I am sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. It is time for me to rest. The sun will be rising soon." Atsu said. Tychon smiled warmly.

“Of course, master. You deserve sweet slumber." Tychon said, pulling the covers on the bed back to reveal their own satin sheets from home.

****

The moonlight glistened off of the granules of quartz sticking to Curtis' forehead and lips as he pressed on. The moon wasn't rising or sinking. It remained just above the dunes like a constant companion. Curtis wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not but the sand didn't feel as cold as it had when he had first woken up in this strange place. The breeze, however, cut through him like an icy knife. As the wind picked up he winced, his steps faltering. He nearly closed his eyes until he saw something slithering and moving near his feet. Jumping back, Curtis gasped.

For a moment the young man thought a snake had emerged from the sand, but the movement came from some sort of illusion. The snake wasn't coming out of the sand, it was made of sand… It slithered and slipped along the dune, wriggling and advancing. The wind blew harder, licking sheets of the granules from the illusion until it seemed to shift and warp, reshaping itself into the image of a bat. The bat flapped its sandy wings, the three dimensional lump gliding down the dune ahead of Curtis before sinking into it.

Curtis stood there for a few heartbeats, trying to understand what the image had meant. To be honest, it gave him a moment to catch his breath. He had caught a stitch in his stomach at the base of his right lung that he couldn't seem to shake. It reminded him of trying to run a four minute mile in middle school. He held his hand tenderly over his stomach as if that would help the stinging sensation. When it didn't relent, he began pressing on again despite it. If the moon wasn't going to set, morning might never come. Maybe he wouldn't have to stop and sleep. The sooner he got back to Thackary, the better.

****

The glare of the computer screen shone off of Marco's eyes, the individual pixels forming an off-white field of dots trying to bore into his soul. The computer screen felt wrong, the cool overcast light outside felt wrong. Their dorm room felt dark, diminished, desaturated. Marco wasn't even sure he could smell their smell… He missed their smell, their scent. Marco closed his eyes and reached up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to remember just when he'd first felt that energy missing from inside his soul. Whatever this feeling was, it was more than the fatigue chronic to Tanuki.

Opening his eyes again, Marco looked back at the screen. Yom had used his login credentials to bring up Evergreen Mining's internal documents, backtracking the contamination that had infected the moonstone and turned it into the parasitic crystal that had been used in the attacks. Yom and Duncan were on their own computers pouring through visitor logs, bills of lading, and even as much of the employee records as they could get to. It was a good lead and they were closer to proving their theories right, but Marco just felt hollow and numb. He'd felt more alive when Futurza had captured him, when he'd been running through the woods to track down Demeas… but maybe that was it? Had he used up what little precious life energy he had?

“Marco?" Udo asked softly. Marco inhaled a little, surprised, looking up to see his blond packmate extending a mug. Marco reached up to accept it, hesitating a little. Without Thackary, the Echo Creek Coffee Shop had been cleaned up by the keepers but no one had yet tried to open it. Those that were aware of what had happened were reeling from it all and yet there were no reports in the news, no whispers about town. It was yet another attack that was being swept under the rug by the campus and the town. Sensing Marco was still lost in thought, Udo gave a small smile, “Hot chocolate." he added. Marco made a small sound of relief.

“Thank you, I needed it." Marco said, lifting his mug to sip at it. Udo looked at the others and then back at Marco.

“If you need anything else, you don't have to be afraid to ask." Udo said. Marco looked back up again. The concern and care on Udo's face was as plain as day. It was a wonder the others hadn't descended on them both.

“You mean more than hot chocolate or some fresh air, don't you?" Marco asked. Udo nodded, leaning against the bedpost at the edge of Marco's desk.

“I think we've gone through more than anyone's supposed to. As eager as we are to press on to the ending and get justice, we're not going to make it on determination alone. If you push like that, you're going to do worse than burn out." Udo smiled sadly, “Being in a werewolf pack is great, but sometimes you still need a therapist to help sort things."

“I would say the idea of a werewolf therapist sounds a bit crazy, but in a town like this there probably are several." Marco considered. Udo nodded.

“I kind of felt more comfortable with the Keeper therapist when I first got turned, but yeah. There are specialists around Echo Creek." Udo said. Marco nodded.

“We just have to be careful they aren't into hypnosis." Marco added with a bit of dark humor. He still had a bandage from where Zane had wounded him during their confrontation. Udo laughed despite himself before leaning down to kiss Marco's cheek just above the beard line. He moved back over to check on the progress of the others, though he glanced back at Marco from his position by Yom's shoulder, making sure he was alright. Marco smiled back to Udo before looking back at the screen. It felt odd that the idea had never occurred to him, but maybe a little therapy would help him deal with whatever had drained the color and warmth from the world around him.

****

The howling winds had gotten so much worse, working the dunes into a full blown sandstorm. Curtis felt like he was being pressure washed by grit, sanded away to pulp. His brown hair had turned tan with the sand sticking to it, his natural tan now caked with quartz. His skin stung, his shirt torn and ragged. The moon was still at his back, lighting his way and the mirage had returned. Even though it hurt to try and watch, Curtis felt like it was some sort of clue. Crouching down behind a smaller dune to try and shelter himself from the wind, he dared to look out at the blob of sand shifting ahead of him.

The bat had emerged from the sea of sand when the storm had picked up, flapping its wings and fluttering around before crashing into the base of another dune. From the collapsed heap of sand rose the image of a wolf that ran and jumped like a living mural. It grew rough and ragged, jagged edges marking the lycan shape before it took on a sleeker and more graceful outline, the shape of a fox. Curtis gasped suddenly, hissing, his hand shooting back to his stomach. His shirt began to stain with crimson, the sandstorm soon caking the blood with more sand to stick to Curtis.

“This can't be good." Curtis murmured, remembering about the attack. He'd never made it to see Thackary. He'd been waiting on their date beneath the full moon… a full moon just like the one that had been watching over him. Curtis tried to turn to look at it but he had to close his eyes as the sand blew right at him. He grunted and murmured, the stinging pain beneath his ribs turning to a burning sensation. There was no use worrying about the past. He had to press forward, to get strong enough to get back to Thackary. Pushing himself up, Curtis wobbled onto two feet and began to walk forward again.

****

So much of life had evolved to thrive beneath the warm rays of the sun - so many that it was a human conceit that it was the default. There were many animals that were nocturnal, hunting beneath the moon and using senses other than sight. The Varos took as much from their bat heritage as they did from the vampire lore, but what about their familiars? They were there to do what the Varos could not do during the day and to attend their masters at night. Sleep had become a nebulous thing for Tychon. Even when given the chance, he lay on his borrowed bed gazing at the faded yellow wallpaper, seeing shadows that weren't there.

The Naga cringed slightly, feeling his bones trying to reorient themselves beneath his skin. His legs burned with an elemental heat that he did not yet fully understand. The room felt too sterile, too lifeless, too dry. Reality itself was chafing at what he had become. Tychon rolled onto his back, his face twisting up some. His lips parted to reveal sharpening canine teeth. Lumps began to form on his forehead as his skull tried to produce antlers. The veins along his arms darkened with oxygen starved blood as the direwolf tried to awaken from its slumber.

“Bek…" Tychon mouthed, not even quite a whisper. The word silenced the symptoms and focused his mind. The color returned to his skin and the pain ebbed to a dull ache. Tychon closed his eyes to rest them. His breathing slowed, as did his heart. No matter his sins, no matter his crimes, it would all be worth it in the end. He would get Bek back for Atsu, and if he could get Bek back, then he could retrieve the others he had harmed from the other side. The world would be put right when the sands of eternity were turned back inside the hourglass. With his resolve made manifest again, Tychon finally felt the gentle embrace of slumber.

****

The sandstorm had finally died down, and not a moment too soon. In fact, the air barely seemed to move at all. The sky was getting darker as the violet drained from it and the sand was getting colder again beneath Curtis' bare feet. His toes felt like icicles. Dark rings had started to form beneath his tired blue eyes. Curtis trudged on, trying not to trip or fall, wondering if this was how Beck felt when he was perpetually tired. The bleeding in Curtis's stomach had stopped, though it still stung as he moved. It felt almost as if it wasn't healing. Had he simply run out of blood?

Curtis put one foot in front of the other, moving along, though he nearly sprang back as something moved beneath where his foot was about to come down. Shifting his weight at the last moment, Curtis avoided stepping on the mirage. He watched warily as the fox bounded past, the sand rising up to form the shape as it bounced and jumped and ran. It circled around Curtis before slowing. A few drops of blood fell from Curtis' shirt, staining the sand. As the fox passed through it, the blood wet the sand just enough that the mirage began to grow antlers, shifting from a fox to a stag, a deer, a Cernos.

“Not fair…" Curtis whispered, his voice hoarse. He tried to lick his lips and then regretted it. Not only did he not have enough saliva to wet them but the action had only introduced the grit of the sand to his already parched mouth. Curtis spit dryly a few times before glaring down at the mirage. This was the thing that had stabbed him, the thing that had attacked Beck. It was a thief and a killer. Whether it was a symbol or an echo or even just Curtis' own imagination, Curtis put his foot down to crush the image beneath. Pushing off of it and leaving the smooth sand behind, Curtis pushed on again, more intent to get to Thackary and make everything okay again.

****

Marco stood on the street corner, an unexpected small smile on his face despite the cold wind trying in vain to cut through the protective layers of his burgundy sweatshirt. He stood on the street corner, looking at a corner building with windows running along two sides. The light spilling out from inside was the color of warm sunshine. The owner had elected not to paint the interior walls in off-off-white but actually a pale shade of yellow that complimented the pieces of driftwood that sat on end tables and the unique piece of marbled glass hung on the wall that was clearly a full moon.

While he wasn't sure how many times he'd walked by this place, it had always drawn his focus when he walked down mainstreet. The fact that it was the address Ren had suggested he come to when he reached out for help only seemed right now. Reaching out, Marco took hold of the door handle and pulled it open. Warm air swept out, chasing back the bitter Colorado air. It was faintly scented by the same driftwood. It was yet another genius move for a town full of werewolves given that wet wood was the foundation of nearly every wolf's personal scent.

The door slipped shut behind Marco and he started to worry he had worn too many layers, but the warm air that had enveloped him never got warmer than that. It remained comfortable. Glancing around, Marco saw no magazines or posters, no pamphlets. This wasn't exactly a conventional therapist and he understood why he hadn't been able to figure out what this place was before. Keepers protected werewolves, but they needed protection in many ways. Doctor Woods looked after their health, Ren looked after their safety, and this place was for their inner wellness.

Standing in the middle of the large room, Marco wasn't sure exactly what to do. There wasn't a bell, nor a computer. When a door to the back opened Marco felt a little bit of relief. A man emerged, his cheeks a healthy toffee brown framed by a short but dense black beard. There was a line of shadow where the sides had been shaved before thick black curls blossomed outward. The man looked fit, as most keepers did, though he also wore several rings of different metals across his fingers.

“Marco Iona, you're right on time." The man smiled warmly, extending a hand.

“Am I?" Marco asked, simultaneously feeling like he was early to the appointment and incredibly late too considering something like this. He shook the man's hand, breathing in a little at how warm the skin felt against his. After a moment, though, it seemed to balance and match Marco's. The man grinned.

“You are right on time because this is the time you have found yourself here. I am Tafiq." The man introduced. Marco smiled a bit, feeling more comfortable than he'd expected to be.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." Marco said. Tafiq nodded several times.

“I try to keep myself open as much as I can. My services can be needed in an instant and can take a lifetime." Tafiq said. Marco nodded a little, uncertain at how to respond to that.

“I really like how you decorated the place." he supplied. Tafiq grinned.

“Good, good. I like my guests to be comfortable. It is easier when they don't hate the decor. That being said, this is just a waiting room. Why don't we go get comfortable and have a talk." Tafiq said.

“I'd really like that…" Marco said, feeling already as if some of the weight he'd been carrying in his shoulders was turning to steam and evaporating in the dawning light.

****

The ache had returned to Curtis's shoulders and spine, adding to the fact that he was chilled to the bone. His arms were raw from the sand and his lips were cracking. His brain felt like it was thumping inside of his skull. Curtis had always been a forest person, but he knew now to the very core of his being that he was not a fan of deserts. His calves simultaneously felt like cement and Jello, barely able to function after such a long walk. Even the sky was unreliable, drifting towards dusk and then dawn, shifting on a whim. At least the moon had proven steadfast in its companionship.

Curtis had opted to walk around the next dune rather than over it. It was a gamble given that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, but in the dunes there was no such thing as straight. As Curtis came around the sagging edge of the dune, however, he saw movement that caught his notice. It wasn't a mirage or shifting sands. It was a palm frond. Curtis felt his breath catch in his throat. Sticking out of the sand just ahead was a palm tree. A few feet from it was another, and in the midst of the tree trunks was a glistening puddle of water that reflected the moonlight. This was what he had seen in the distance!

Curtis felt renewed strength fed entirely by adrenaline and optimism. He pushed forward and found the ground getting firmer beneath his feet, making it easier to walk and gain purchase. The water that fed the oasis gave enough traction that Curtis no longer had to fight sinking with each step. He surged forward toward the puddle of water before toppling onto his knees, his wrists landing in the wet sand. He stretched out for the water before hesitating, looking around at his surroundings.

The oasis was ringed by half a dozen palm trees and some scrub. The dunes that circled the oasis had protected it from the worst of the sandstorm, though some sand had collected on an irregular heap on the far side. Curtis blinked to try and clear his vision, looking at the heap of sand and cloth and skin and bleach blond hair with the darker roots that Curtis knew so well.

“Thackary!" Curtis murmured, scrambling back up to his feet again. He hopped over the puddle of water and ran over to Thackary, crouching down next to him. He gently reached out to check for a pulse, feeling the subtle throbbing on his neck. He leaned down closer, trying to feel for breath. The slightest of air currents tickled his skin. Curtis checked Thackary's forehead and found it clammy. Thackary's skin was pale and his lips were worse than his own. Had he made it this far only to collapse before getting to the water?

Glancing at the puddle, there didn't seem to be much on the surface. Curtis would have to dig deeper for his own, but he knew he had to help Thackary before it was too late. With one knee at the edge of the puddle and the other next to Thackary, he rolled his boyfriend into a more advantageous position to get him the water he needed. Reaching into the puddle, he scooped it up and carefully held his fingers together, cupping it and bringing it over. Every drop that he managed to get over Thackary's lips and into his mouth felt like a blessing. The slightest bob of Thackary's Adam's apple indicated that he had swallowed.

Hand by hand, Curtis brought the water to Thackary's mouth until the puddle had become a soft soup of granules. Curtis wobbled a little, feeling the earlier adrenaline starting to wear off and his fatigue rolling in again. While he still had the energy, Curtis pulled off his torn shirt and pressed it into the water, trying to use it as a filter to allow the water to pass through without the sand beneath. All he managed to do was get the shirt wet. Curtis lifted the fabric up above his mouth and tried to wring it out, but only a few drops fell to his dry and parched tongue. Curtis' arms slowly lowered in defeat as he looked down at the moist sand. He'd come so far, but even if he couldn't slake his own thirst, he'd given Thackary a chance. That had to be good enough for him. Exhaling slowly, Curtis scooted closer to Thackary and tried to get comfortable, curling up against his boyfriend.

Before Curtis could lay down his head, he saw an outstretched hand full of water reaching out to him. The water was crystal clear but the hand that held it was the most unusual shade of green. Curtis slowly lifted his head, following the hand up a perfectly sculpted arm dappled with paler scars to fit and firm shoulders, a strong neck and the most classically handsome face he'd ever seen. His cheekbones were like the perfect curve of a rising sun, his chin angular but strong. Long, silken black hair trailed down his broad green shoulders. The same dark black hair ran along that perfect jawline before spiraling down into a long braided Pharaoh's beard.

“Drink, my child." The spirit said with a warm smile. Curtis didn't have to be asked twice. He leaned forward and opened his mouth only to have the green fingers tip the water in. It rushed across his lips and tongue, crisp and cool and clean. The cold from the sand felt like it was washed away, and with it the ache and fatigue and stinging faded. The sky began to shift again, taking on shades of green and gold and pink as the sun finally began to rise, spreading warmth across the desert. Curtis closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling almost weightless until he felt soft sheets against his shoulder and the weight of a nice blanket over his ribs.

Curtis smacked his lips a little dryly, blinking. The room around him was fuzzy and the morning light was a little painful at first. He blinked until his eyes adjusted and then he took a better look around the room. He was a little confused at first because he saw medical equipment and plants mingled together; heart monitors and ferns, blood pressure cuffs and cacti, bed pans and zebra grass. It wasn't a single room, either. Across the way was another bed and Thackary's sleeping face was right in front of Curtis. Curtis couldn't help but smile.

“I almost got to cuddle you." He said hoarsely. Outside the room there was a little bit of a scuffling before a doctor appeared, his hair showing streaks of silver despite being in his late thirties. He had a grizzled look about him like he hadn't slept in ages and his stubble had nearly reached the length of a full beard. The light in his eyes was absolutely youthful as he saw Curtis awake. He moved in, looking at the vital signs readout and then back at Curtis.

“Welcome back, Mister Martin." Doctor Woods said. Curtis scrunched up his face at that.

“Curtis is fine. How is Thackary?" He asked. Doctor Woods tried on his best bedside expression.

“He is stable and recovering, though you are the first to wake up." Doctor Woods said. Curtis looked a little paler at that.

“Did he get stabbed too?" Curtis asked. Doctor Woods. It was a strange line to walk. As a Doctor he was used to tending specifically to his patient and their loved ones, but as a werewolf he knew how strong the pack bond was even with non werewolves. Weighing the options, the truth seemed a better salve.

“He was found in the cafe, poisoned. He had managed to ingest a rudimentary remedy that saved his life long enough for us to find him and his vital signs improved more when we put him in the room with you." Doctor Woods said. Curtis thought about what he'd seen in the desert and how he'd found Thackary by the oasis.

“How are his vital signs now? Are they any better?" Curtis asked. Doctor Woods gave a patient smile.

“I really should be checking on you, you just woke up." The Doctor said. Curtis put on the best smile he could manage.

“Indulge me? Please?" Curtis asked. Doctor Woods made a small noise in his throat before he turned and moved over to Thackary's bed. He slipped the oximeter onto his finger and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, setting it to work. The machine hummed as air was pumped into the band, expanding and applying pressure. It began to click as the air was released in graduated steps. The doctor made another noise, this time one of surprise.

“There is a noticeable improvement since the last check." Doctor Woods murmured, looking back at Thackary, “Did something happen? Is this related to your abilities?" he asked. Curtis seemed a little taken aback at that.

“My abilities?" He repeated.

“Forgive me. My specialty is werewolves. I understand their enhanced metabolisms and healing factors, augmented immunities, unusual allergies. I don't know much about the Cernos but what I have observed is that these plants have a connection to you, and you have a connection to Thackary." Woods said.

“I didn't know love could be diagnosed." Thackary croaked from his bedside. Doctor Woods spun around, looking at his other patient, relief flooding his eyes. He'd seen many miracles as a Doctor, especially when dealing with werewolves, but this was something truly special. More color returned to Curtis' face as he smiled warmly and stretched out his arm, his fingers straining for Thackary. Thackary reached back, bridging the space between the beds, their fingertips touching for a moment before they both felt too weak to keep them up.

“Doctor, can I have that diagnosis in writing?" Curtis asked.

“You can have whatever you want if it keeps you on the path of recovery." Doctor Woods smirked happily.

“Can I have some ice water? I'm really thirsty." Thackary said. Woods nodded.

“Of course, of course. I'll get you both water now and get some food ordered up." The Doctor said before heading out of the room. Curtis smiled over at Thackary and Thackary smiled back, although something was different. At first Curtis thought it was a play of the light, but as he gazed into Thackary's eyes, there was no denying it. His dark blue eyes seemed to shift, taking on a warm orange hue like a late afternoon sunset. It was there for a moment before it faded, but Thackary's smile was as bright as ever. Curtis knew he should have been startled, but oddly enough all he felt was a sense of safety and contentment. Whatever they had been through, he was back with Thackary and they were both alive. He'd crossed the desert and been reunited and life was good.

****

Marco leaned back in one of the most comfortable recliners he'd ever been in in his life, his feet slightly elevated while the soft cottony material seemed to hug around his arms and legs. He'd had one cup of Tafiq's custom vanilla chai tea already and the second sat to his side, acting more as an aromatic than a beverage. Tafiq's office was decorated with the same warm yellow paint and driftwood but it looked onto a small courtyard with a fountain and some winter-worn plants. The one thing that truly set the office apart was the crooked staff hung on the wall, the shape reminding Marco of his conversations with Nyctimus. That, at least, was a topic he might save for a future visit.

“We've been talking f

or over an hour and I still don't know where to start…" Marco said with a sad chuckle. Tafiq didn't seem nonplussed in the slightest.

“This sort of thing takes time, but maybe you could start with what made you decide to seek me out?" The curly haired Keeper said, smiling as he sipped his tea again. Marco nodded a little, though he seemed to sink into the chair more.

“I guess… it was this sense that every time we think we're making progress, something else terrible happens. Even just the attacks. It was the hunter attacks on the airports and the blood moon eclipse and Futurza and now this." Marco said, “I thought I was weathering them all but they have been taking a toll. We were digging into the information and I just felt so hollow." Marco admitted. Tafiq nodded sagely, though the way he did it felt like an old friend agreeing with his concerns, putting Marco even more at ease.

“I find it interesting that in what you said, you used 'we' for the positive and 'I' for the negative. Even though you have become something else, you're carrying the mentality of an Alpha." Tafiq said. Marco looked up at that and shrugged.

“I mean, I'd like to think I am still the Alpha, at least of my own pack. They still love me, I'd still do anything for them. My new abilities are interesting when we get time to use them." Marco said.

“You'll have to forgive me if I'm not fully researched on just what your abilities are, but I would guess that your pack is just as pleased with you in bed?" Tafiq asked. Marco nearly felt a flush coming on.

“I-I-" he hesitated before nodding, “Yeah, I haven't had any complaints." he admitted. Tafiq's lips pursed a little.

“I'm sorry if my question made you uncomfortable. A lot of my guests are trying to navigate social dynamics in fledgling packs. Roommates, the campus pack, that sort of thing. Once they have forged that bond, it is a source of rejuvenation and strength. In many ways I'd have to envy the sort of connection that werewolves and the other therianthropes are able to create." Tafiq said. Marco slowly drummed his fingers on the arm of the soft couch.

“Rejuvenation and strength, it sounds like just the sort of thing I need to make it to the finish line." Marco murmured.

“I know you are dealing with matters of life and death, but unless there's something you can do in this very moment… maybe you can ease that sense of hollowness with the love of your pack. You might just be able to come back to face everything else with a clearer head." Tafiq said. Marco made a small noise, lifting his own teacup to take a sip.

“I'm surprised there wasn't a longer wait, I think your advice on how to heal one's mind would be very popular." Marco said with a smirk.

“It is. Just remember, this is only one tool of many. This is just the first step in a long journey." Tafiq responded.

“I understand, and thank you." Marco said as he heaved himself up, ready to head back to the dorm.

****

Adults often envied the way that the young could bend themselves into impossible shapes without feeling uncomfortable, but with Beck's gangly form he took it to an extreme. Rodrigo gazed over at his roommate's tangle of legs and arms as he leaned back in his gaming chair, chewing on one of his long braids as his fingers frenetically worked a controller. The dual monitor display showed one video game on one screen and a replay on another, the images glinting off of Beck's small, round glasses.

Rigo wanted to keep gazing but he was unable to keep himself from yawning, tipping his head back as his brownish-black hair fell across his face and his mouth opened into a wide-O. His lungs filled, his brain seemed momentarily satiated and he was able to open his eyes again. Now that Rigo had his powers back, it seemed almost comically absurd how different the Kitsune and the Tanuki were, and yet he and Beck got on perfectly - well, mostly perfectly. Rigo wasn't sure if his yearnings had been amplified because he was more comfortable with who he was, or because Marco had given him the fight again in a way that was far more meaningful than his first transformation. Whatever the case, his balls were aching, his cock was rock hard and it was getting harder to hold back the fuzz.

Rigo licked his lips a little, picturing himself as the ideal gamer boyfriend. Could he sit on Beck's lap while he gamed without a shirt on, riding the kitsune's cock without disrupting his flow? Well, that wouldn't work with him pretzeled up in his chair. Could he kneel before him and suck his cock until he couldn't help but come to bed? The space in front of Beck's feet was a tangle of cords and fleece blankets. No, he'd have to try something else. In fact, he'd have to try something Marco had taught him. Rigo smiled a little mischievously as he leaned back on his bed.

While the taste of hair wasn't particularly appealing to Beck, his long corded braids were often a source for stimulation. When he was struggling to hang on or even possibly losing, they acted as a bit of a chew stick. With the hair pulled back, the tingle that started to tickle across his ears made him think he was sweating at first, though he never started sweating with his ears. As his fingers rushed across the controller, the tips of his ears stretched into points as a short layer of brownish-gray fuzz sprouted across them. Similarly, the invisible downy hairs covering his arms and shoulders began to take on desert hues, slowly shifting to fur.

Beck's focused face continued gazing at the screen even as dark lines began to stretch and curve out from the corners of his eyes, giving him the distinct markings of his particular breed of fox. Even the sounds of the controller being worked shifted as Beck's fingernails began stretching out into points, darkening from their chipped nail color to a more even brownish-black keratin. One mercy of the gamer chair he used was that it left plenty of room between the backrest and the seat, particularly appealing as several nubs of flesh began wriggling out of his waistband, stretching outward as khaki and brown fur began sprouting from them. First there were two, then four, surging outward in length and width and girth. They curled and curved, draping down behind the chair.

Rigo's mischievous smile started to turn into a frown. Surely he had to notice by now. He couldn't be that into gaming, could he? Rigo bit his own lip in focus, doubling down. Underneath Beck's shirt, several points began to throb as smaller, subtler nipples began to form. White fuzz covered his chest and trailed down his stomach. His mouth became numb, his jaw pushing forward and his nose stretching with it as the tip darkened, taking on a more rubbery shape. The pointed, furry ears that had been the start of his transformation began creeping up higher and higher on his head, displacing the tightly pulled back hair. And yet, he still played his game.

Rigo was starting to huff a bit, the dark rings under his eyes getting darker. His own ears had grown round and furry, sticking out from the shag of his hair. His fingers began to prickle the skin where they dug into his legs, the claws emerging. While Beck was gaining several long, thick tails, the tail behind Rigo was emerging huge and singular. It was ringed with black stripes and Rigo's own personal shade of brownish-gray. It was getting harder to focus given that his roommate was a literal fox slouched in his chair, four tails twitching behind him. Rigo watched with particular fascination as Beck's dangling bare foot began to pop and contort. The heel shrank and lifted up, a dew claw forming. The balls of his feet reshaped and the digits began to plump and distinguish themselves before black claws emerged from the tips. The dusty fur spread down from the leg of his pants, spiraling around the ankle and stretching across the fox's paw.

“Come on, come on…" Beck murmured, clicking the controller harder, slowly leaning his chair forward. Rigo hesitated. Was it wrong to play with his illusion magic like this? Maybe he should ease off and- “Don't quit on me now, bro! You're so close!" Beck called out. Rigo's brow furrowed. Beck wasn't wearing a headset, was he just talking to the universe?

“Beck?" Rigo asked with hesitation.

“You're doing great, babe! I've never had someone bring it out in me before. This slow and sensual is great. Is this how werewolves do it?" Beck asked. Rigo's jaw dropped.

“You're still playing your game!" Rigo said in shock.

“I'm almost at a save point." Beck grinned. Rigo's eyes flashed with fierce determination and more mischief. If Beck was intent on having his cake and eating it too, then he wasn't going to hold back. He redoubled his focus and grinned. Beck gasped suddenly, his face continuing to press forward, wrenching into his muzzle. The longer, narrower mouth made room for his teeth to reshape and grow into sharp points, his tongue elongating to accommodate the new shape. His nose finished its canine shift and Beck was hit with the peaty, musky scent of his roommate's arousal. He couldn't help but lick his black foxen lips.

Rigo felt his shoulder muscles tight, his neck stiff as he continued to use his new magical muscles. Reddish-black fur spread down his spine and wrapped around his ribs, his own chest getting furry before his stomach softened as well. New dark stubble sprouted across his cheeks and chin, spreading across his upper lip, darker than the soft fur ringing his eyes and bridging his nose. The hairs curled out, dense and tight, forming a short beard. It wasn't nearly as impressive as Marco's, but it felt right to Rigo, almost as if he had inherited it from the Alpha.

Beck suddenly gasped, his lines of nipples growing plump and sensitive, thickening, poking out through his fur, rubbing against his shirt. Each nub sent a jolt of energy out through his body, jolting into his groin… a groin that was now the focus of Rigo's manipulations. Beck's breath caught in his throat as the pudgy flesh at the base of his cock suddenly rippled and unfurled, sweeping up along the length of his manhood. As it moved, the same dusty brown fur covered the forming sheath. The expanding flesh quickly enveloped Beck's cock, cocooning it inside.

Rigo slowly lifted a clawed, furry hand. As his fingertips and palms turned a leathery black, he began to pantomime stroking the hand up and down before squeezing, massaging and manipulating mid air. Beck's moans came harder and faster as it felt like his cock was being kneaded inside the sheath. He suddenly spasmed as his cock surged outward, the sheath swelling wider and longer, then wider and longer again. His pants strained, his belt groaned and suddenly the buckle snapped. His button popped, his fly unfurled and Beck was hit in the stomach with a very large, very pronounced sheath. A pointed tip peeked out, slowly dribbling a slick clear liquid. Feeling that hot goo against his stomach, his six nipples began to swell again, poking out from the fur, begging to be touched as they ached.

“F-f-fuck!" Beck hissed, his right forearm hitting the armrest of the chair, his controller clattering to the floor. Rigo hopped off the bed, strutting over to the gangly kitsune with all the charisma and confidence of a true short king. He grabbed the chair and turned it around to face him, reaching down with his raccoon-like hand. He took hold of Beck's thick sheath and began to pull it down. The furry tube slowly peeled back to reveal a pointed, curved, bulbous canine cock with a fat red head.

Beck gazed up at Rigo with equal parts awe and delight. Rigo leaned down, pressing his lips over Beck's left nipple. He began to suck and slurp before he bit gently and tugged, stretching the flesh with his teeth. Beck howled out at that and the lights in the room began to flicker. Rigo reached down with his clawed hand, teasing another set of one of Beck's nips. A drop of drool leaked out of the corner of Beck's mouth. Rigo used his other hand to tease another, leaving Beck to reach up and start fondling his middle set of nips. He moaned and panted, a canine tongue hanging out of his mouth. He squirmed, four tails wriggling behind him.

As fun as it was to tease Beck, Rigo felt like he wasn't done yet. He focused his energies, his illusion magic, pouring it into Beck. Beck felt his cock start to stretch out again like a serpent, slithering up his stomach, rising taller and longer and fatter. It glistened with the natural lube from his sheath, veins bulging. His own set of furry balls rested in the confines of his rumpled, sagging pants. With so much attention being paid to his chest and stomach, Beck straightened out. His paws touched the carpet, his tails continued to wriggle out the open back of the chair and Beck uncurled himself. It was exactly the moment Rodrigo had been waiting for.

One more gasp came from Beck as Rigo crawled up onto his lap. Straightening himself carefully, he lowered two thick, furry ass cheeks down around Beck's engorged member. Beck felt himself strike true, the pointed tip sliding through a black rubbery hole and into a welcoming ass. Rigo slithered down, clenching and unclenching his anus to give Beck a good milking before he began to rise and lower his hips rhythmically. Beck grabbed onto Rigo's hips with his clawed paws, guiding the Tanuki up and down, up and down, faster and deeper and harder and more. Rigo grinned before burying his face in Beck's chest again, accosting his nipple until it stung and ached and… leaked?

Beck was unable to take more breath into his already full lungs. What was that feeling? Was he bleeding? No, it felt… good. In fact, it felt very good. As he felt spurt after spurt of hot liquid leaving his chest and entering Rigo's mouth, his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. Rodrigo was relentless, slurping and suckling as he was fucked. He continued to use his hands to tease Beck's other nipples, all of which began to dribble out white fluid. It soaked his fur and began to run down his stomach, but neither of them cared.

The huge red cock pistoned in and out of the Tanuki's ass, the huge ringed tail draped down the front of Beck's legs. Beck gurgled a little, unable to control himself. He felt so fertile, the best of masculine and feminine qualities. Beck forced his head up, gazing down the length of his muzzle to see Rigo in full raccoon mode, though his fur had changed to include a dark black beard around his face. Seeing that manly man drinking his milk, even if it was an illusion, was so hot. He bucked his hips to fuck him deeper even if it meant breaking his gaming chair. He had to nut in that Nuki ass, to pack it with his seed until his bro's belly rounded with cum.

The chair began to pop and groan under the strain, but the two kept going at it. They were wet and lewd and sloppy. Rigo traded which nipple he was feeding off of, using his hands to accost the others. Beck reached up, a paw caressing Rigo's furry cheek. Rigo groaned, his ass starting to flutter. The one thing he hadn't been paying attention to was his own cock, a fact that became apparent as it began to spasm and throb before unleashing a torrent of gooey, messy white Tanuki cum across Beck's already saturated chest. Cum and milk mixed into a frothy slick down his chest.

In one stupendous moment, both men and the chair howled out at once. The chair snapped and the lovers toppled backwards, landing on a heap of tails. They were a bit stunned, still mid-orgasm, but after a moment's pause both Beck and Rigo began to laugh. Rigo rested his head on Beck's chest, feeling it rise and fall and the milk disappearing as he grew too tired to maintain the illusion magic. Perhaps it was a muscle that would grow stronger with practice, but for now it was perfect at this moment.