The Razing of Sciftania

"Run, little wolf, run!"

Lupe could still hear its voice whispering in his ears as if carried on the roar of the flame. The thundering of his boots were drowned out in the cacophony of dying screams and cracking buildings. He was lost, but he didn’t care. He just had to get away.

"You can’t get away."

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the phrase before it could take root. He just had to keep running. This maze of fire, stone, and bodies couldn’t extend forever, could it?

“Break.”

Startled, he stumbled over a newly formed crack in the road and fell, cracking his chin solidly against the pavement. He whimpered in pain, poking at a fang with his tongue, only to find it now broken. He started to push himself to his feet, only to be shoved hard back down, what felt like a foot firmly planted at his spine.

“We told you, you can’t get away.”

His heart–one of them, anyway–jumped into his throat. He scrabbled at the asphalt, blunt claws and fingerpads catching and shredding on the new cracks. Any attempt of pulling himself out from under the weight, however, only resulted in that foot pressing down harder, and desperation stilled his hands.

“P-please, let me go,” he said. “I didn’t–I didn’t do anything–I just wanted t-to go home–”

The pressure on his spine relaxed, and he breathed a sigh of relief, only to choke it out in a startled whimper as something grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him up. There was a snap of metal and his transmitter collar clinked to the ground, barely audible amidst the rush of flame.

He was brought to his feet, and roughly turned around, his eyes meeting…a blank plate. The figure facing him wore a helmet, roughly spherical and not resembling anything Sciftan. Tongues of flame were reduced to agitated green smears dancing in the reflection. With a shock, Lupe realized that two glowing spots on the faceplate weren’t errant streaks of flame.

They were eyes, narrowed at him in disdain.

A voice emitted from the strange helmet. Or…several voices, all layered atop each other like a crowd of people speaking in unison. The accent was odd, as if Rauchiaen was their second language and their first at the same time.

“You are home,” they said.

A hand collided with his chest, and he was knocked down again. He bit back a howl of pain as his tail bent awkwardly beneath him. The stranger strode forward until they were standing over him. Their tail waved behind them, and with a start Lupe realized it was only half fur–grey with violet stripes. The other half, clicking and whirring as it moved, was made up of segments of bright silver metal.

“W-wait, please,” he said, trying to scoot away, but a foot came down on him again, this time stomping down hard on his arm. He screamed in pain as it snapped. 

The figure stooped over him, and though they didn’t remove the helmet he got the impression they were grinning cruelly down at him. He flattened against the ground, turned his head to the side. If I don’t look at it, maybe it’ll go away.

“This planet is odd,” they said. “You are the same. Perhaps with your differences, but if I were to line one of you Sciftans up with an Ortuxan, the only differences would be snouts and tails. We even speak the same language, to a point. It’s only a shame my host couldn’t get off his planet sooner…we might have had more time to explore. Unfortunately, we had to move the timetable up.”

“Wha–” Lupe started to say, then broke off in another cry of pain as the other foot came down on his other arm. Pain blinded him, blood roared in his ears, fear kept him pinned far more effectively than this stranger. They filled his vision, towering over him, taller and broader than the mountains. The ever-encroaching flames surrounded them, melting his pelt off his bones.

The figure stooped low over him, their tail now resting against his leg, and he felt it tap, tap, tap against his shin.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to know you,” they said, a grin embedded in their voice. “I could’ve made this hurt more.”

They lifted a clawed hand. Silver fur and cinnamon-colored fingerpads were rendered verdant in the glow of the flames. Then they brightened, and soon a ball of roiling, crackling electricity collected in their palm. It nearly blinded Lupe, and he found more words spilling out in his fear.

“Please,” he whimpered. “I-I could serve you. I have s-skills. You w-want power, right? I can help you h-hold that power! I c-could be your guard, your scullery maid, a-anything! Just pl-please, let me live, let m–”

His snout exploded in pain, his head snapped to the side, and for a moment he thought that ball of lightning had hit him. When a moment passed and he hadn’t died, he looked back at the monster above him, disbelief clouding his eyes. The figure’s other hand came into view, its claws now bloodied, a chunk of his own golden-brown fur caught under one of those cruel hooks.

“Fool,” they snapped, their voice a hiss. “Don’t pretend you know what I want. The only way I get what I want is by taking your planet. You really think I want some snivelling pup following me around when I’m trying to take care of more pressing matters?”

“I-I’m not always snivelling,” he protested in a small voice.

“Silence!”

He flinched, squeezing his eyes closed as he saw the hand reeling back to smack him again. His nostrils, filled with smoke and blood, trembled unbidden.

He was about to die. This thing, whatever it was, had rendered his whole city to flame and smoldering ash. He was begging for his own life on the bones of his people. He was about to die, and even if he didn’t, everything he’d built up throughout his life was burning down around him. Whimpering like a newborn pup, he waited for the end.

But the end never came.

The sound of crackling energy faded into the roar of flame, and the being atop him shifted, the weight coming off his broken arms. He opened his eyes, then his mouth, but before he could say anything or move away his collar had been grabbed in a fist and he was hauled bodily to his feet.

“Perhaps you could be useful.”

His ears perked up, hope flooding him in the instance before his snout was swatted again. His tears of pain burned away in the heat.

“Don’t get me wrong. I reserve the right to kill you later if you displease me. Or annoy me. And don’t expect to enjoy your servitude.”

With that, Lupe was hauled away, legs burning with strain and arms hanging uselessly by his sides. He cast a look around his home, the blaze overtaking everything he once knew and reducing it to cinders.

Then a curtain of flame passed across his vision, and he was dragged by his assailant into the unknowable.