Cruck’aa landed gracefully on the other side of the wall and sprinted down the street towards the front of Werond’s house, Jo’s curse echoing in his ears.

His beak twisted into a frown. Jo could handle herself, her prowess in a fight proved that many times over. He was not worried for her. What did worry him, was the harrowing realization that hers and everyone’s survival hinged upon Cruck’aa circling back to the front of the burning house. A spearhead assault through the front would be an angle that none would see coming, and the resulting confusion would be thick enough to give them plenty of time to flee into the night.

Thus, Cruck’aa had no time to wait for or help Jo over the wall; his actions were too critical for him to wait.

The side-street that Cruck’aa dashed through was devoid of all life, not a single window lit in any of the homes, providing a mirror’s sheen for the flames to dance wickedly in. Cruck’aa fought the urge to leap into flight, least he reveal himself before he was ready, and almost tripped over his own feet as he came skidding around the corner onto the main road.

Lit by the yellow glow of the streetlights, far too many City Guard had begun to file their way through the front gate of the house, too many for Cruck’aa to count, an urgency in each of their steps. It took less than a second for one to notice him and shout out his presence, the remaining guards’ heads snapping towards him almost in frightening unison.

Cruck’aa grimaced as a detachment of guards came rushing at him, fanning out into a semi-circle, ensuring that, should he step forward, he would impale himself on their spears. Seven in all and he had time for none of them.

“By order of the City Guard,” The taller guard at the head of the C shouted. “surrender yourself immediately! Failure to do so –”

Cruck’aa rolled his eyes and willed his form to change; the rest of whatever the guard had said or was about to say twisted into a choked gasp.

Savages who’d spent their entire lives within walls that denied them access to the greenery that their minds and souls so desperately needed were limited in the opponents that they could successfully engage with. A person was no problem, of course, but Cruck’aa knew that not a single man who stood before him now knew how to handle a grizzly denied access to their family.

Cruck’aa let loose a roar that seemed to shake the stars in the night sky and charged at the guards without a second thought, his claws clacking loudly against the cobblestone road; the guards screamed in response and scattered, their formation broken, each running for their lives, save the man who had hurled orders at Cruck’aa, who now stood frozen in shock at the charging beast before him.

There was no hesitation in Cruck’aa’s swipes, no gentle bites, no mercy to speak of – the guards that had threatened him died rent open with screams upon their lips, the cobblestones underneath soaked with a crimson known only to battlefields. Limbs were torn away, throats were ripped open, gore splattered across the trembling bodies of those who still stood, making slick Cruck’aa’s flank, brown fur matting with the iron-scented stuff. No spear could pierce his hide, no iota of careful tactics could keep him at bay – he was a force of nature against the sword of the city – a sword that broke upon his back.

And as quickly as the carnage had begun, it was over; Cruck’aa spared no glance at the river of blood and gore that surrounded him as he reverted to his bipedal self, panting as his body burned with exhaustion. He shook out his arms, legs, and wings as best he could, flinging blood from his body, wishing that he had bothered to learn that snapping magic Serena knew.

Still shaking out his arms, Cruck’aa moved quickly towards the now clear front gate, his feet squishing and squelching horribly. He was used to staying transformed for prolong periods of time or for physically demanding activities, but truth be told, Cruck’aa wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep another form for long when he –

A whistling from above.

Cruck’aa whirled about – too late –

Much like his fangs piercing through the neck of the last guard, a javelin pierced his shoulder with a horrible sound and threw him to the pavement; Cruck’aa screamed as hot pain exploded through his shoulder and across his body.

Something else blurred over head – brown with a flashing steel –

Gasping, Cruck’aa rolled to the side, jerked as the javelin caught him, then scrambled away just as the cobblestones exploded, throwing blood into the air. Curses poured off his tongue like water from a cliff as he shoved himself up, pain pulsing through his body with each thudding heartbeat, his eyes trained on the beast that now occupied the middle of the street.

The awesome form of a griffon, brown wings outstretched and white eagle head on a swivel, dominated the sea of blood, standing proud like a beacon in the night. Riding it, upright in the stirrups, clutching a long-hafted javelin, was a familiar, infuriating face.

“Bastard!” The old captain bellowed, brown eyes alight with abject fury, steel plate glinting in streetlights. “You call us the savages, insult us as though each are below you, then you slaughter my men like an animal!” The captain angled his griffon to stare directly at Cruck’aa; had he been made of lesser stuff, the glare from the Griffon would have made him shiver. “You dare feign superiority when you hold no qualms with butchering innocent men doing their jobs?!”

“Don’t you lecture me on morals you corrupt sac of horse shit!” Cruck’aa screeched; summoning a vine in his talon, he yanked the spear out of his shoulder and threw it away, hot blood cascading down his arm, matting his feathers, pain pulsing. “I don’t listen to mercenaries!”

“Mercenaries?! You speak like a madman!” As if on cue, six more griffons descended from the dark, all smashing onto the pavement around their captain, riders bristling in similar armor, though each wielded halberds as tall as themselves. “And under my orders, madmen such as yourself would face the sword just as any common criminal would – consider yourself fortunate, then, that I am not the acting commander of this raid.”

“Madman –” Cruck’aa narrowed his eyes, aware of the sounds of more griffons landing on the house behind him. “Get to the point if you must blabber!”

“I will ask this only once, as I have been ordered to – surrender yourself peacefully now, and I will ensure your safety when I clasp the rightly deserved chains around your wrists. Should you –”

“You corner my family in a burning home and tell me to surrender?!” Fury burned through Cruck’aa’s chest, forcing him to step forward; the griffons nor their riders reacted, save a small smile that came to the lips of the old captain. “And you call me the madman?! Enough of this!” Cruck’aa flicked his wrists in a circle. “Attack me and die with some semblance of dignity or stay still so that I may finish this quickly!”

“Gods above, I hoped you’d say that.” The captain growled.

Bellowing a war cry into the night, the old captain urged his griffon forward, his riders upon his heels, halberds and javelin leveled.

Cruck’aa spread his wings and flung himself into the air, easily dodging the chaos of thrusts aimed his way.

He pumped his wings once and soared higher, acutely aware of the storm clouds gathering overhead; he raised his hands in preparation, just as the riders below launched into the air to meet him, the old captain leading the charge.

Typically, Cruck’aa wouldn’t position himself directly below his storm clouds; despite the control he had over them, it was still possible to zap himself with lightning, a pain he’d felt far too many times in his youth. But it was different now; he wanted to see the riders as they were struck and thrown from their mounts, careening to the city below with looks of shocked horror across their faces, and where he now hovered remained the best spot to do so.

He grinned; perhaps he shouldn’t have felt the satisfaction that buzzed in his chest as he willed the clouds to erupt, but as the lightning came roaring down around him, Cruck’aa tossed the notion away. It just –

His head snapped up; lightning didn’t roar.

Blindingly bright silver streaks of flame cascaded from the clouds above him – roiling with a silvery glow – and streaked past him, filling his ears with a roar that shook him to his core.

The riders had no time to swerve, no time to escape, and barely any time to scream as the streaks exploded against them.

Rider and mount alike ignited into bright silver balls of hellfire, seven in total, illuminating the sky like falling stars; Cruck’aa threw his hands up to shield his eyes at the blinding light as the griffons screamed shrilly, worse than the cries of terror and pain that consumed the men. Cruck’aa almost curled in on himself as the screams tore apart into gurgles, fading fast as beast and man alike dropped from the sky.

Body shaking, clouds rumbling overhead, he dropped his hands and began to blink away the sunspots that now filled his vision. A thousand questions came rearing to the forefront of Cruck’aa’s mind, most centered on how in the Nine Hells did he just conjure flame – a feat he’d never wanted to learn – but all those questions would be forced to wait as he realized – too late – that a ball of fire was coming up towards him.

Half blind, still stunned, Cruck’aa failed to react in time as the ball of raging silver flame, closed the distance; a burning javelin erupted from it and pierced his stomach, tearing through and out his back with a horrible wet sound.

A second hand came out of the fireball and clutched at Cruck’aa’s chest as he screamed; the massive weight that threatened to yank Cruck’aa down suddenly lifted as half the fireball fell away, a massive, winged form burning and twisting as it fell silently to the rooftops below.

Cruck’aa reared his head back, blood beginning to pool in his mouth, as the flames flickered into the shape of the old captain; teeth bared in a horrible grimace, the captain leaned in, head utterly engulfed with silver flame, holes burning into his flesh, highlighting the charred skin of his mouth and arms and chest, blood sizzling into the air, his eyes aflame.

One eye popped; Cruck’aa screamed again.

“Not – this – time!” The captain spat.

He reached up and grasped at Cruck’aa’s face with a single, burning hand; pain flared through him, and his wings finally gave out.