It all started with a scream. It was wild, loud, unearthly, and all of those who heard it felt their blood turn to ice with fear. The performers ceased their singing, the music ceased its playing, and the children ceased their laughing at the sound of such a scream. In one sound, all of the cheer was drained out of the Circus.

In that moment, all was still. All was silent. A deadly calm hung over the air and somewhere in the crowd, a dark-haired young man, around twenty years old, clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the large axe in his hand. He recognized that sound. The same scream had been made when they captured the beast, forcing it into chains and dooming it to life in a cage at the will and whim of the Master, and the same scream had been finally silenced when they forced a muzzle onto its powerful jaws.

The moment hung in the air and then was gone. The creature burst free and the beating of its wings as it rose into the air sent the nearest tent crumpling over into a heap. It cried out again and this time it was met with screaming from the people; the screams of a multitude who have found their lives turned from joy to horror in one brief moment. The delights of the circus were forgotten and people began to flee; heedless, mindless, and driven by fear.

The man with the axe held his ground, his eyes dark. "Run," he murmured. 'Run for your lives." And he met the creature's gaze.

The Wyvern -- a fire-breathing dragon-like creature, though smaller -- returned the gaze with an insolent and furious stare. There were clear marks around the neck and legs of the creature where it had been bound so tightly that the scales had been rubbed off. Around the muzzle, the creature bled where it had torn itself free of its bindings. The creature couldn't understand why it had been taken away from its fields and hills and grassy plains and thrown into a cage to be gawked at and tortured, but it did understand who had done it, and it did understand revenge. The tent it had toppled was only the first of many.

It raised its head and screamed one more time, only this was one of triumph instead of pain. Then, it attacked. It tore with its claws, ripped with its teeth, and tent after tent fell to the onslaught of the beast. Scream after scream was cut off in the middle and as the young man ran -- towards the creature, not away from it -- he soon found himself stepping over bodies of the less fortunate. Only a few at first, and then more and more the closer he got to the Wyvern. He forced himself not to look down and to focus on his goal. He had to kill it. There were others running towards it as well, men employed by the circus to fight and protect and capture and kill in the same way he was. Well, perhaps not in exactly the same way. They were here for the money and he was here for---

He froze mid-run, nearly tripping over himself. He was here for his brother. And Snow was currently in the air on a trapeze in front of a massive crowd and he doubted they'd be able to get him down and safe in time before the Wyvern...

No. No, he couldn't let it happen. Crow changed his direction and headed straight towards the main tent at top speed.

It was still standing when he reached it but there was a massive gash in the side of it, towards the top, and people were pouring out of the doors and squeezing out from underneath the tent, escaping the rage of the beast in any way they could. Crow winced as a man fell and was trampled underfoot, his screams quickly lost in the din around them. He didn't imagine the man screamed for very long.

There was no way he would be able to get in the tent through the door so he went around to the side and swung his axe at the thick fabric, over and over again until it finally tore beneath his blade. He ripped it open just large enough for him to fit through and forced himself through it and inside.

It was chaos.

The main tent was the main attraction and always had the most people, and so many people trying to get out so fast was turning the place upside down. It was fortunate for them that the Wyvern had not turned his full attention to this tent just yet but it was likely that once it heard the screaming of so many people, this was exactly the next place he would go.

'And it'll lead him right to us.' With that grim thought still in his mind, he forced himself to look away from the pandemonium that surrounded him and turned his gaze upward; up to where he knew Snow would normally be performing at this time. There was a part of him that hoped he would see Snow up there, safe and sound, but a larger part of him hoped that he wouldn't and that his brother had somehow gotten down on his own; swinging up in the air was not the safest place to be during such an attack. But when Crow looked up, Snow was still up there and he looked to be struggling with something.

"Snow!" He cried out, but amidst the noise and confusion that surrounded them, his voice wasn't heard. Crow screamed out again, louder. This time, he was heard. Snow said something back but whatever it was, it was lost in a mightier cry than either of them could have ever made.

The cry of the beast.

Crow barely had time to reach a hand up to his brother before fire surrounded him and he felt the pain shooting up his arm only for the briefest of moments before the world went black around him and all faded into darkness.

----

He awoke to fire and blood. For some time he lay there, staring upwards through blurred vision trying to remember what had happened and where he was. He was vaguely aware of a dull throbbing somewhere in his body but he ignored it, for the time being, and at last, tried to push himself up onto his elbows. The first time he did he slipped and fell again, but the second time he was successful and slowly rose to his feet.

He must not have been out long. The tent was mostly empty now, but for a few stragglers and a body here and there, but the screaming was still easy to hear even over the sounds of the fire around him. Funny. He'd forgotten all about the screams until a moment ago.

Then he looked up.

Snow was dangling by his foot tangled in the trapeze wire, upside-down with blood dripping from his forehead. His arms hung lifelessly down towards the ground.

Not for the first time that night, Crow cried out in rage and fear though this time he barely even heard his own scream.