Dread from Above

"You took it first!"

"Well, I own it!"

"Own it? You don't own nothin'!"

Roland groaned, shoving his face into the torn pillows of his bed. The two voices beyond his room had been at it for several minutes now; he was hoping the argument between the young pair would cease quickly. He should've known better than to think two children would suddenly stop arguing over something as infantile as a mere cheetah plush.

He blinked several times, exhaustion like lead upon his eyes. He brushed the greasy frills back atop his skull and shambled away from bed. After this morning's last drowse, he was hoping he could at least get some sleep, but the fatigue posing upon his shoulders last night lingered still.

Outside, the pair of dragons squabbled over the little thing. Carolin, the dragoness to the left, held the puppet between her paws protectively. Weird of her to be arguing over something. The two didn't notice him walk into their little spat.

"Could you two can it?" he asked as politely as his hoarse voice would allow him. The green dragoness, Carolin, looked at him and smiled apologetically. The other fire dragon, however, tried to snatch the puppet out of her paws after Roland's words, and the two continued to bicker.

"Holy shit, kids, would you both settle down?" His voice more forceful, the other dragon heard him this time.

"S-sorry, Rolan'," the orange dragon said, tone sickly sweet. He recognised the kid as Kage. "But she's trying to steal Mr. Fluffles!"

"Steal it?" Carolin was clearly bewildered. "I own it! How can I steal something I own?"

"You don't own it!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Have you kids ever heard of the saying 'honour among thieves?" Roland asked, quietly laughing despite his irritation. The two both shook their heads. "It means we don't steal from each other. Why don't you both, I dunno, share it instead?"

"But it is mine and..." Carolin trailed off.

"Well, honestly, it's not." He gave her a crooked grin. Carolin pouted over his jest.

"SEE?" Realisation dawned on the other kid's face, and Roland knew his joke had come at the expense of worsening the argument. "It isn't yours!"

"Oh, Ancestors..." he cursed.

"Having trouble with the kids, bud?"

Roland locked eyes with the purple dragon behind him, goofy grin stretched across his muzzle. Roland couldn't help but smile. "No, of course not..."

The two behind him continued to argue; Roland couldn't concentrate on the babyish reasoning they gave. "Why don't you let me deal with 'em?" Drevon whispered. "You can go back to bed if you want, Roly."

"Ugh. I'm already up, what's the point?" Roland rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I've got a few things I want to do today, might as well get them done early. And I would appreciate you doing this, but Carolin's your sister. You'd be a bit biased."

"No, I'm all for being fair."

"Yeah, like how you were fair in that paw wrestle yesterday."

"Shut up, I'm totally fair." Drevon grinned. He moved past the red dragon without waiting for his word and looked down upon the kids. Carolin looked to her older brother with surprise; because he'd gotten up early, no doubt. Everyone around here, despite resorting to thievery, remained laid back. They had a more than enough to survive, and nobody knew they were here. Sometimes, it didn't even seem like the guards were trying to search for them, as if they were laid-back as well. He always thought they did a good job, though.

Roland left Drevon to deal with the pointless bickering, too weary to care any longer. He guessed 'resorting to thievery' was kind of the wrong phrase. Many probably could be doing other things: receiving an education at the orphanage, heading on to a career later in life that would earn them some copper. But no, most here simply enjoyed the life of stealing. He and Seth had started their underground network of thieves here together, then Myrtle came along one day (ironically because she'd been stolen from by him), and then their 'guild of thieves' kind of just grew.

Like a stream, they came one by one. A lot of them looked up to this kid they'd heard being called the Red Rodent. He guessed they loathed the old hag in the orphanage as much as he did.

He remembered the names of around twenty of those kids living inside the waterways and on the streets, coming back to share their spoils, but he knew there were a few more than that, those few that didn't speak and kept strictly to themselves. He didn't mind their presence, though. The more the merrier, he always said to Seth, who didn't like the quiet types. And, well, the more to add to their collection of trinkets, food, and curiosities. As shocking as it may have seemed, an amount of spirit gems had been stolen from them. There had been a bit of a betrayal earlier in the week. Seth was intent on figuring out who it was. Thankfully, it hadn't been too much, but it was a bit of a scare.

Roland stepped across the platform again, studying his shadow against the cylindrical wall in the lamplight. It moved like a beast shambling beside him. He stopped and stood on two feet for a moment, like the cheetahs and moles, and quietly snickered at his abnormally long neck curling around the pipe. "And I thought the others were childish," he muttered after.

He'd thought the electricity coursing around the sewers was weird when he first came down here. Later, he'd realised they were for maintenance work – some of his favourite moments were when the adults came for an examination of the waterways; hiding amongst the pipelines and watching them choke up at the smell was always hilarious, in spite of the growing number of times he'd seen it.

He turned the corner into pipe B, the dirtiest and smelliest of all the pipes; it was known for its 'blockages' after all, and that was where the 'B' came from. He wasn't surprised to see Myrtle huddled around a crude map of an area they'd drawn upon an oaken stool, houses they wished to raid dotted along its rough surface, but Ashlyn conversing with her about the plans was a change of pace. He hadn't actually expected the timid dragoness to introduce herself so swiftly.

"...like, this one's the cool one. The guy has a collection of frickin' gold– Oh, hey, Roland. Come over here and listen." Myrtle waved at him; he jogged over.

He knelt down. "How's the planning going?"

"Good. Just explaining what we have to Ashlyn." She pointed towards the big red dot on the page; it was only a fraction bigger than the others, but Roland knew the place nonetheless. "I wanna save that one for last. It looks like it's gonna be the most exciting... How's ya tummy, by the way?"

He'd since removed the sopping bandages; they weren't comfortable to sleep in. "Still a little grazed, but I think I'll be fine. Be my cushion next time, will you?"

"Yeah, I'll be the cushion you impale yourself on, sure." She pointed to the curved brown spines upon her back. Roland only smirked. "Anyway, we're not exactly desperate for gold – actually turning it in for copper is troublesome in and of itself, and it's not like we're running low or anything."

"Oh, I know a guy," Ashlyn said, quite surprisingly. People dealing in precious substances were difficult to come by; it wasn't profitable, considering almost nobody managed to come by such things. Earth dragons and moles, with their lust for wealth, mined every known location of precious ore and mineral. Even Roland, a thief no less, hadn't such greed to reap the earth of its now lacking resources.

The mining of copper though was their primary objective, not gold. An ore with two stunning properties – it was malleable and a great conductor of spirit power. They liked it so much that it was fused into the chain-link steel armour the guards of Firemore donned. He'd read that in a book he'd stolen once. The 'copper' the Dragon Realms called their currency was also made of the material.

"You know someone?" Myrtle spoke next. Ashlyn quickly took it back.

"Well... I-I did."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up like that, blue girl." Ashlyn flinched as Myrtle's paw playfully connected with her shoulder. "What, did he die or something?"

"No, he... went away."

"Where to? Is he close?"

"I... I don't know." Ashlyn shrugged. The green dragoness' face soured for a moment, but she was smiling again in a jiffy. "Anyway, when are you guys... we doing this?"

"Eh... Probably soon. We're gonna start with that one there." She pointed to the red dot; barely recognisable, the dot was stashed away in the corner of the map. The most boring of the homes. Roland did enjoy working his way up to the more difficult, tedious missions – if you could call them missions – as time progressed, however. It made the later rewards more satisfying. And, like gold, it wasn't as though they were running desperately low on other supplies. It'd be a nice one to run Ashlyn through what they would do, anyway. Even the thieves of the waterways had rules they needed to follow.

"So you made the decision without me?" He would've told her their first target was the blandest of the homes anyhow. Strange ways, he knew, but he liked them. If he hadn't been here, like all those years ago, his incentives would've varied. "Kinda rude, but..."

"I thought you would agree." Myrtle leaned in, tongue poking through her muzzle slightly. "Not like you to fight me over something, no-breath."

"Ha ha, very original, moss-brains," he countered, drawing his face closer to hers. Myrtle's grin widened.

"Lanky."

"Bird-snout."

"Knuckle-head."

"Scar-face."

"By Ignitus, you guys." Ashlyn chortled. "I hope I don't have to get used to this. Y-you're like children."

"We are children," the bickerers expressed in unison. "Wow, nice timing. Holy shit..."

Roland and Myrtle couldn't help cracking up. The blue dragoness only shook her head.

"A-anyway," Myrtle said between breaths, picking up her map and stuffing it into the satchel by her flank, "I have some stuff to do, some stuff to clean, some stuff to steal. I'll see you guys later. Nice meetin' ya properly, Ashlyn."

"You too!" She waved, as did he. The dragoness turned to him a moment later, and the two began walking down the pipelines. "You were right about meeting people, Roland. I was planning on just, you know, sitting around by myself, but I guess it'd be nice to have some acquaintances..."

He nudged her gently. "We're all friends here. I have no doubt you'll fit in well."

"Haven't really had the chance to make friends with anyone before," she said. "Thanks, though."

"Well, you can chill out." At his words, the blue dragoness laughed. He wondered why for a moment. "I... Oh, very funny."

"I am an ice dragon. I'd like to think I'm automatically pretty chill," she said. "W-well, unless you throw my ring in the sewers."

"You ever gonna let me live that one down?" he asked.

"You dived into... well, shit, just for me. Of course I'm not, smelly."

"Great." He held his head high, feigning annoyance.

"O-oh, uh... i-if you don't mind, of cou–"

He snickered, beaming. "No, no. It's fine. I deserve it anyway."

"Th-then... prepare to be made fun of, I guess!"

"We'll see, Ash."

Roland led them around the the corner to the exit. Just beneath the pipe's ceiling, he could spot the sun. He'd forgotten about it for a moment, but all the weight of his exhaustion came tumbling down upon him then. He exhaled, stretching his ligaments as though a hound.

"I didn't say it before, but you look really tired."

"Yeah, rough night sleeping. I was woken up by two kids arguing over a toy. But you've got nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

She cocked her head; her concern was almost mother-like. Strange, considering she'd known him since yesterday. "You sure? It's not often you see black rings under a dragon's eyes. Why don't you head back to bed?"

He peered into the waters below him. His form was wavy and difficult to decipher, but she wasn't wrong. The coiling darkness clashed with the red of his scales.

"...No." As inviting as the warm confines of his bed seemed, there were items on his agenda that needed tending to. He gave her the warmest look he could muster. "Don't be concerned. I might be tired, but it's not going to stop me. Besides, I've got some things to do today."

Her face revealed she was displeased with his response, but she nodded despite it. "Well, take it easy, then. I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely." He leaped to the edge of the pipe, where the ground fell into a cliff, the northern Salamander Sea stretching beyond it. "Talk to you later."

Then, beating his wings, he took off. He rejoiced in the rushing of the wind on his scales, inhaling the salty air. Sure, he'd gotten used to the stench within the sewers, but never did he ever want to stay there. He preferred this, just outside the city. He would've loved to always be out here, breeze caressing his scales.

An impossibility. He thought no longer of it, and with his sights on Firemore, approached the Dragon Realms' second greatest city.

The setting sun didn't leave Roland much time to enjoy his other hobby. He weaved a claw upon the yellowed page within an alleyway, slouching up against a dumpster. He'd smelt worse than the stench that pervaded his nostrils. In fact, it even gave him ideas; he converted that scent to the reeking miasma of a beast clawing through rock to decimate the characters of his own creation. A golden dragoness, and her sidekick, Gerald, were triumphant in the end, however.

He laughed at the joke he weaved into the story after the death of the beast, claw scribbling wildly upon the page as his chest heaved. Then he grumbled, realising he'd ruined all he'd written. Not dissuaded, though, he started again. Some day he'd get this book published, and then he could hoard the rewards and praise of his masterwork.

"You know, if they would actually accept somebody as hated as me..."

He placed the crinkled paper upon his chest before resting his head against the dumpster. He lifted the stolen apple pie beside him and took a nibble. Familiar. In some ways, it was perfect. In others, it sorrowed him ever so slightly.

"This really is the life..."

Getting away from his parents had probably been the best decision he'd ever made.

He felt a twinge of guilt then, but never did it last long. He had been the one that caused all this, but how could he unhappy when life was ideal after doing so? He had friends – no, a family. He had everything he desired. He could do whatever he pleased and almost always get away with it.

But he did miss them still. It rang true. Despite it all, he never could forget about them.

He remembered his father the most. A giant of a dragon, clearly of the earth variety, brown scales from head to toe, horns like a ram's, tail blade smooth and club-like. He'd once been able to mistake the dragon for dirt because of his colour, but his soul had glimmered like diamond. That smile, though faded in his mind over time like a passing breath, remained as inviting, comfortable, joyous as ever. He'd never forget the times they shared. He'd never forget that gravelly tone. His laugh he could remember like it was only yesterday.

At least, that was what he was like, just around him.

His mother was a different story. His father was always different if she was around. He was cold. He wasn't... good, like he remembered from his earlier years.

Roland could memorise the melancholy sketched across his mother's features, and even that memory was as misty as the ice she once summoned. That was all. She'd always been upset, succumbing to her own thoughts, as though they were murdering her from the inside out, wearing away at her thin body. He'd ran the first time then. He was scared for her. He believed it was he causing her problems, causing her attenuated, drooping figure, like his. There had been days before he'd met Seth, before they'd constructed their little band of thieves, that he'd wanted to go back. But he was sure his mother had been better off without him. All of that had been his fault.

"They're gone now, Roland. Don't worry about them anymore. Do you want to be happy, or do you want to go back to more of her?"

They never were and never would be, he'd told Seth. Maybe she'd changed, he'd told Seth, although he scarcely believed it.

One time, he had gone back, off his sorry arse to see them once more, a hope flickering in his chest. The inviting smell of the apple pie baking inside... Enticing, but never did he go inside their old spire again. Seth had approached him then, too.

"He... hates you, Roland. He doesn't want you anymore. It's... It's not your fault.

He'd heard his father then; faint sobbing. He knew what had happened, what he'd done. His mother, that dissolving soul, evaporated that night.

He didn't leave before he'd seen her, though. He wanted one last look at her. In ways, he wished he hadn't sought after her. It didn't take long before he laid eyes on her through the lighted window, past his father.

She was limp and her eyes were milky. Like a doll, as though she'd never lived in the first place. He couldn't recognise her face anymore. Broken by her element; an icicle as long as her figure impaled the mind once killing her. She'd succumbed to herself.

And he knew he was to blame then and there, that he never should've left. She'd been holding onto him, and then, when he was gone... He never spoke to his father again after all that. Even seen him again. Roland assumed he was just dead.

He rubbed his eyes. He looked at his claw, a droplet resting upon its tip. The tears didn't come most days, thinking of his parents as he did.

He missed them, wanted them back, but they were dead. They were but memories, like embers, glowing until the time came for them to die, and many more to replace them. His hope was lost within the embers. They were nothing more.

"You feeling okay, Roland?"

It wasn't usually Seth that approached him. Seth wasn't one for emotions. Roland could sympathise with the earth dragon, knowing he'd been through something... similar in nature.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about... ugh."

"You need to let go of them." For such a large, loud dragon, he was surprisingly soft-spoken. Roland had heard his words before, however.

"I-I know, I just can't help it," he said. "It's my fault."

"No, it's hers, and I've always said this," he argued. "It's not your fault she was too selfish and... well, honestly kind of fucked in the head to take care of you. Why don't you listen to me?"

Roland didn't know about any of that. Seth's words were too harsh, but he wouldn't argue. What was the point? He knew there was no convincing himself. He wondered if Seth knew that, too. "Let's just go home. I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay." The brown dragon shrugged and moved off, out of the alleyway. Roland, exhaling, got up.

There came a crack, the splintering of wood, distant yet audible, followed by a dense thud, interrupting his train of thought. Roland jumped in shock, but thought somebody must have just fallen over. Dragons were heavy, after all...

Then, scared like a bird flies, Seth rushed around the corner. He tried to issue a warning, but a screech tore through Roland's ears. Recognisable, from the night before.

Had the creature attacked Firemore?

Seth was on his knees, trembling, fear etched across his face as though he'd seen a sight unholy. Wood was smashed, stone reduced to fragments he saw careening through the air.

Roland wanted to stay back, but his curiosity got the better of him. From behind the corner of the alleyway, through the stalls of the market square, he knew he was seeing the creature he'd seen flittering amongst the night.

Its hulking, hunched body was almost as large as the dragons cowering around the square. An adolescent cheetah hung from its bloodied maw, fangs impaling his small body. It raked at the wood and its victims with the talons on its paws, and soon after, lifted into the skies screaming, beating its wings as the cheetah boy was diced by the two blades inside its mouth. Roland felt caught, like he'd been glued to cobblestone.

It soared across the square as fast as he'd ever seen another creature fly. Even he couldn't outmatch its velocity.

He stood, fear bubbling inside of him, but he found himself not paralysed like the others. Even the dragons, the guards strongest among them, knelt and cowered beneath the savage beast. He couldn't look away, not from the red drenching the ground nor those barely breathing amongst the dead, nor from the monster itself.

Then, its yellow eyes met his gold. He couldn't breathe.

The creature froze, then shrieked once more. Roland snapped out of his bewilderment. He looked back to Seth, who was still recovering from whatever paralysis he'd once been in, before hiding himself again.

He heard the creature descend upon the stone through the screaming of Firemore's denizens. It had full control over whoever it wanted to kill. Roland felt he was next. He tried to stay quiet, but his ragged breaths drew the beast ever nearer. He heard a snort; sniffing at the scent of his blood, he thought.

Talons scraped against stone as the lumbering beast walked towards him. He felt the tears again, threatening to cascade down the bridge of his snout.

He knew he was going to die.

That hadn't set in yet. He only realised it now. This unholy freak of nature was going to be the end of him.

One step closer. It was almost around the corner, before it screamed out once more. Not in use of its unnatural ability to impale its victims mind with fear, but in agony. Dark scarlet flew past him, splattering on the wall of the building beside him. It stuck like paste.

With a guttural roar, the beast made one last move. The cobblestone shook, and the movement stopped, the beast's face landing in front of him, blood oozing down its cheeks. The iron spear piercing its skull was withdrawn, wet with the monster's gore.

Roland stood still, as though frozen in time. The beast's aggressor walked around the corner, a cheetah wearing the armour of Firemore's guard.

"A-are... y-you alright?" the cheetah spoke, distressed. He sounded as though he were in tears. Roland didn't blame him. He was on the verge himself.

But he couldn't speak. He did open his mouth, but he couldn't find the words. Looking back, he saw Seth had left the ground and was flying away, far from whatever hell had been unleashed upon the city here.

And he couldn't blame him. Roland didn't want to be around the monster anymore.

Like Seth, he turned and kicked off forcefully, the guard yelling after him. He didn't hear his words, but he didn't care.

He just wanted to go home.