I was never a particularly popular man. Not due to any unfriendliness on my part, at least, I hoped so. But it was more the fact that my town was small, and popularity was generally waged in terms of reach. People knew me, but everyone knew everyone, and I was far from famous. I was a quiet farmer, rather onerous, but quiet, and I was quite happy with that. Now I had a crowd roaring around me, and with every step, it grew.

It was a small army that followed me through town. Crawford had sparked a protest that had grown to encompass the factories and the working classes, and they had staged demonstrations across London, and as we moved… they converged. People came in from side streets, signs, shouts, curses and general rabble-rousing filled the scene, and I was at the forefront of all of it. The people were tired of being prey to the beasts let loose haphazardly by the nobility, tired of the bread and circus games, and apparently rather upset that their underdog was mauled repeatedly. Morrigan stood just to my right, keeping pace with me… such as my uncertain and somewhat drunken pace was. Her arm was around my shoulder, helping me along as we made our way down the streets towards the colosseum. Those few still on the streets ahead of us were rapidly going into buildings or pulling their carriages off of the road, while ahead, at the far end of the street, I could see a police barricade rapidly being set up in front of the arena itself.

We were a slow-moving thing, and gave ample time for anyone to respond to our action… but we were also rapidly growing too large to stop. My body filled with strength as I moved, it was still a stumbling, pain-filled thing, but energy I hadn’t felt in days now filled me as I walked. Something that only grew as Crawford grabbed my other shoulder. I was quite a sight I’m sure, dressed in a bloody, torn suit, missing an arm, limping through London with a fop on one shoulder and a witch on another. Truly the thing revolutionaries were made of.

The police got out one ‘halt’ before the crowd rushed out around me, charging forward and running the poor bastards over. Punches were tossed, things were thrown, and I paid attention to none of it as Crawford and Morrigan hurried me along towards the arena itself. The guard normally at the door wasn’t visible, either having retreated inside or joined the police, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. My hand landed on the door for the entrance to the VIP staircase, and I swung it open, looking up at the staircase.

I heard a roar, distantly, one I recognized to be Beithir. And I stepped forward, my foot hitting the stair. Morrigan and Crawford weren’t behind me anymore, I wasn’t sure why, but I found it hard to focus on that as my steps grew more rapid. They echoed in the staircase, but so did the roaring of both the wyvern and the crowd, the sound mixing in the stone chamber to a distant but still all-encompassing echo.

What was I doing? What was my plan? Where did Morrigan and Crawford go? Are the people outside okay? I had no answers to any of these questions beyond the first, and as I swung open the door to the VIP booth it was a rather simple one. I was getting my wyvern back. The men in the booth looked at me in alarm as the door slammed open, it was all men I vaguely recognized.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” I offered, then looked past them towards the arena… for about a second, before I was swinging open the side door and for the first time in days running down the steps. Beithir stood near the edge of the arena, roaring and spewing fire. Along her side was a gash, bleeding… didn’t look particularly lethal, but that wasn’t why I was running. Charging her across the arena was a familiar brute; big and green, the same one that had won that first wyvern ‘fight’ I saw.

Nobody tried to stop me as I sprinted down the steps, I could faintly hear voices back in the booth calling my name, but they were barely audible above the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. The arena itself was surrounded by a dome of glass, for the protection of the crowd. The only way into it was via glass doors that the referees and announcers used to enter and exit as needed. They were also locked for the crowd's safety. I raised one arm in front of my face and slammed into it, the glass shattering as I crashed through it and onto the steps that led down into the arena floor itself. Shouts and gasps followed behind me, but I was already moving again, ignoring the stinging pain on my face from shards of glass as my feet finally touched the floor of the arena once more.

The ground trembled around me, the heavy footfalls of wyverns thundering in the air as Beithir ran from the chasing brute. Beithir was far faster, but the brute was far stronger, Beithir’s wings flapped to give her extra speeds, but the design of the dome was as such that a wyvern couldn’t stay in the air indefinitely, and even then the range of the brute’s flames was enough to reach to the apex of the dome.

And I chased after.

My good hand, my only hand, reached up to my lips as I let out a shrill whistle. Beithir’s head jerked towards me at the sound, and her feet dug into the earth as she rapidly turned, her wings slamming against the ground to steady herself before she changed direction to sprint towards me. The brute for its part had no such grace, slamming against the wall and stumbling.

Beithir slowed down, slightly as she approached me, a happy sound escaping her. I stepped to the side, then as she moved past me I leapt, my one remaining arm threatening to tear itself out of my one remaining socket as I grabbed onto the joint of her wings and hauled myself onto her back. She had no saddle or stirrup, and my legs clamped around her sides and my good arm gripped the back of her neck as she did a wide turn around the edge of the arena. My head snapped to the right at the sound of heavy footfalls, far heavier than Beithir’s own. And I looked to see the beast sprinting across the arena, flame painting its mouth alight as it charged.

“Up!” I cried, shifting my legs up and hoping Beithir understood the command.

With a single flap of her wings Beithir lifted off, blowing flame against the ground to gain lift. Flames slammed against the wall where we were just moments prior, the stone blackening with the impact. Beithir swung around, blowing her own flame onto the brute before landing back down onto the ground. The beast roared in pain, disappearing in the flames, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for it. The thing was covered in scars, injured, and likely had been used as a show animal all of its life. But there was nothing I could do about it. The crowd in the stands were standing on their feet behind the glass, apparently shocked by my sudden appearance, and I took a moment to look around the arena. The ‘exits’ for the wyverns were one of two methods, a large metal gate that was currently closed and that I didn’t have the ability to open, and the elevators that I couldn’t access either. My musings were cut short by a bloodcurdling roar, and my gaze snapped back just in time to see the beast charging forward once more, Beithir moved to leap out of the way, but not before it got its claws to scrape against her leg.

I tumbled off, landing on the ground with a groan from the speed of which Beithir moved without stirrups. I slammed my arm against the dirt a moment later, forcing myself up. What I saw… was Beithir laying on the ground, one leg bleeding heavily, the other pawing against the ground as she attempted to right herself and scramble away at the same time from the beast stomping towards her. Beithir roared, scratching against the earth.

I whisted, as loud and as piercing as I could muster. The brute paused in its movements, turning its head to look at me. Flames still bedecked it, small little spots where Beithir’s fire took hold. It gave it an almost demonic appearance as it fully turned around to face me. And I whistled again.

“Aye, come on ya dumb lazy beast. Ah’m right bloody here!” I shouted, waving my arm around. I leaned down to grab a clod of blood-soaked dirt from the arena, and threw it at the wyvern. That did it.

It started to run, it was easily thrice as tall as I was, and far wider and heavier. Flames lit its mouth, bright enough that I had to cover my eyes from the light. But I never closed them, I wanted to watch.

…

Not my death of course.

The whistling was only partially to get the brute’s attention. It was also to get Beithir’s.

The brute let out a roar of pain as Beithir slammed into it, her mouth clamping around the beast’s throat and letting out as much fire as she could muster. The brute jerked wildly, spasming in place before it fell to the ground, it’s throat burned through. It didn’t even twitch as it lay there, and I let out a long and deep breath before walking forward to run my hand along Beithir’s side. She turns her head to look at me, a soft trill escaping her. “Aye girl, ah’ve got ya. Sorry about that.”

Her head ducked down to rub against my hand, and I acquiesced to the request and ran it along her forehead, the wyvern’s eyes drifting shut as I did so. My gaze turned back to the beast, it’s skin… bubbling in places. I wish there was more I could do for it, but… I just didn’t have the time.

Beithir’s trilling brought me back, and I smiled, feeling right for the first time I had in some time. Then I removed my hand and pointed down to the ground. Beithir let out a chirp and laid down, and I slid myself onto her back once again. She then rose a moment later, and I let out a long and slow breath as I turned her towards the gate. To my surprise, it was already opening, swinging inwards to reveal my ‘army’ had forced the door. I took in the sight, then trotted Beithir forward towards them. The crowd parted as I moved, people cheering and shouting as I made my way back outside.

There… It was quite a bit of chaos. More of the police had shown up, and the crowd was now in the midst of an all-out brawl with them. Those that held the door open quickly ran back to join the chaos, and I could see Crawford and Morrigan moving towards me. They both came to a stop at the same time, and Morrigan spoke first. “Are you alright Arthur?”

“As alright as I could be. Making a lot of noise I see.”

Morrigan smiled, and Crawford spoke. “Rather out of control, actually. Are you fleeing the city?”

I looked down at Beithir. “Something like that, but first there’s something I have to do.”

“What would that be?” Morrigan asked, and there was a wary tone to her voice.

I smiled at her. “Thanks for the help so far.” Then I nudged Beithir and we took off into the air with a mighty flap of her wings. Straight up, then around to land on top of the VIP box. The stone cracked underneath her weight, and the crowd screamed from my sudden reappearance. “I would recommend leaving!” I shouted out, and Beithir let out a roar.

The crowd scrambled, running towards the exits as fast as they could, panic filling the air as they ran from the arena. I let out another breath, running my hand along Beithir’s neck. Before pressing my knees against her side. Beithir let loose a gullet of flame down onto the now vacant seats. Searing fire washing over the steps and stone. The flame caught immediately, the wooden planking used as a base and the seats burning like matches from the heat. I then set Beithir in a circle around the arena, blowing down flame until the entire structure was burning, smoke rising into the sky and the glass flashing.

“Good work, girl,” I said quietly, patting Beithir on the side… then slid off of her to land on the roof of the arena. I stood on top of one of the boxes… possibly another VIP box, possibly one for the announcers, it truly wouldn’t matter much longer. And I looked out over the city where fires had sprouted up all over. Shouts filled the air, and the whole city laid in a state of pandaemonium… not what I wanted, but what was given to me. The ground was at least two hundred feet below me, and I watched the chaos in amazement for a few moments, idly wondering if I was supposed to give a speech or the like. Beithir let out a soft trill, pressing her head against my side, I turned my attention from the chaos and the crowd, focusing instead on the giant little beast that had become the focus of my life for some time now. “I met ya in fire, seems about fitting for how this should end aye?”

I ran my hand along her head, then pushed back gently. “Run along girl, best ya leave the city.”

Beithir tilted her head, clearly confused. “I’ll be fine, just trust me.”

The wyvern stepped back, still clearly confused. And I pointed my hand out towards the town. “Go, girl!”

At my shout Beithir flapped her wings, slamming them briefly against the arena before taking off into the air. I watched after her, hand moving to shield my eyes from the morning sun as a silver missile took off over the city. She disappeared in the shine of the sun, and I smiled as I lost sight of her. “Aye Beithir, don’t think ah’m goin’ after ya this time.” I then laughed, turning to start making my way towards the stairs. “Not sure if that makes ya loyal tho-”

I heard the crack before the round hit me. I stumbled in place, my knees giving out beneath me as I lost the ability to stand. I looked down, to see the white shirt underneath the suit quickly turning red with blood, and I shakily turned my head towards the crowd where I could see a mob of people taking down an officer that was holding a gun. I let out a long, slow breath, then pressed my hand against the ground and stood up. It was an interesting pain, a new one, and I had had a lot of interesting pains lately. It was sharp but cold, and I could feel what little strength I had leaving me rather rapidly.

The crowd surged in apparent anger, and my eyes looked over it for Morrigan to no avail… I suppose it didn’t matter. I could feel the heat of the flames at my back, and I stepped forward towards the edge as a wyvern’s roar sounded out.

I smiled.

Then fell over the edge.

—

“Do you need any help with your bags ma’am?” the driver asked me. And I shook my head before tossing them into the carriage.

“Fair enough ma’am, er, Morrigan was it?”

“Yes. How long until we get there?” I asked, leaning back against the seat and pulling my hat off of my head to set it beside me.

“From here? Only about an hour, not much out that ways though.”

“As I have been told yes,” I replied.

The driver gave me a skeptical look, but turned back to his horses and snapped the reins, and a few moments later we were off. My eyes wandered the countryside as we traveled, it was… a rather pretty place, nothing like home, but lovely. With trees and rolling hills, why they called it the ‘lowlands’ was beyond me, the number of hills here made most parts of southern England look amusingly flat by comparison. But in either case, it was enough to keep my attention along the way and true to his word an hour later I was dropped off at my destination… a small abandoned farmhouse. It sat squat in a field, abandoned with cattle grazing all around it, grass grew with abandon in sunken rows that were clearly once cared for fields, and beyond it was a town that rather looked almost abandoned.

It was… nowhere, basically. Ranchland and little else, with nothing in the way of excitement beyond the cows… or coos I believed they called the breed. I stared into the house, wondering what it looked like when it was still in use, which had to have been a year ago at least. Then I started to walk, making my way down the path, past the farmhouse towards the town, it was just as ill-populated as I imagined. Those few who still lived there worked on the ranches around it, and the vast majority of buildings were shuttered or just abandoned with little care. I glanced around, more than aware I looked out of place, before my eyes landed on an old man sitting in front of what appeared to be a schoolhouse.

I… Arthur mentioned this man yes, one of the few times he actually talked about his hometown besides rants.

“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the man. “Are you McDunnough?”

The man looked up slowly, wrinkled face framed by glasses that rested low on his nose. “Yes? I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure miss.”

I smiled, slightly. “I’m… a friend of Arthur, do you know him?”

McDunnough frowned. “Arthur died in London. But ah did know him, taught him when he was just a lad.”

“I went by the farm, it was bought?” I asked.

“Aye, shortly after he died. Landlords snatched it up, they own most of the valley now.” He replied, then his eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. “You Morrigan?”

I blinked. “... Yes.”

The man let out a low breath then closed the book he was reading. “Good to meet ya ma’am. Arthur Adair is dead, if ya are lookin’ for the rest of the family they live in a valley north of town. Just follow the road and take the second right.” He then points off towards a distant hill. “You’ll find ‘em in there.”

I stared at him, confused. Then nodded. “Thank you.” I then stepped past him and went through the town. Arthur never mentioned relatives… but the families aren’t as small as the English like to keep them. The path north of town was much the same as it was to the east, fields upon fields of cattle and cash crops, and it took a good half hour of walking before I was heading through the valley where the old man had pointed me. There… it was mainly a forest, and the further along I went the rougher and older the path became. Until eventually it came to a stop in a clearing perhaps a hundred feet in every direction.

Within it sat a cottage, a simple thing made of stone and lumber, looking rather recently built going by how unweathered the stone was. In front of it was a field, in the midst of being plowed. Walking through it was a silver wyvern, walking along with a hoe strapped to its back. And saddled atop it was a man, he had bright red hair and a beard, and as he turned to look at me he raised a hand in a wave. Just one, as he was missing his left. The wyvern let out a happy trill as it turned to look at me.

I smiled.

Fin.