Down below Fleck and Moon had flown to the fight. Moon started spraying ice almost immediately, either to act as shield between the cultists and everyone else, or to outright attack the cultists.

Fleck. . .couldn't do anything like that. And he couldn't let many of the cultists touch him. And everything happening was a lot. The smell of blood was in the air. So was the smell of death, tears, sweat, and burning skin. And the rubble and dust of shattered buildings. And the smell of some of the weapons being used, like the guns and blades. Those definitely left their scent in the air. There was so much going on, his good sense of smell was basically useless at this point. Something he should ignore.

You'd think the adrenaline would help, but all it seemed to do was make hims focus on every little thing that appeared in the corner of his eyes, attention bouncing around.

He tried to bite Arra, lurching forward as he saw her. She spun towards him, and he had to swerve as her hand reached towards him, so he didn't explode. He saw those shards, like black glass, from earlier. He turned, and Moon was already doing something about them. A member of the town's law enforcement had gotten into a sword fight with one of the cultists. He tried to move forward, only to pull his head back as a dark streak of Pauth's magic slid through.

He saw the air heat up and sizzle around him, and jumped out of the way as another meteor tore through the road. Still crouched and ready to attack, or more likely lunge out of the way again, Fleck turned in the direction that had come from.

Murv was now further up the road, in the general direction the cultists seemed to be going. He'd reached an intersection, and fired off his attack. One of the not-meteors had gone back down this street, but two had also gone in either direction at the intersection. From what he could see, the left side was looking better than the right. Must've been more clerics or magic users waiting in the wings to shield that attack. But Murv was still far too powerful for Fleck's liking. And that, he could do something about.

Fleck dashed forward. The path was now mostly empty, thanks to Murv's attack. Of course, the path being clear and Fleck being large, Murv eventually spotted him even through the dust cloud, and fired another attack. Fleck dropped to the ground, sliding across the dirt as the attack passed just above him.

Murv looked annoyed, and sent another attack, this one so low to the ground it tore up the dirt.

Fleck swerved to the side, disappeared into one of the buildings. (There were so many holes in it getting inside was easy.) He could've tried flying, but he wouldn't have been able to get high enough in the air before that hunk of rock flew through.

As soon as it was past, he jumped back out of the building, wings spread, teeth and claws bared. This time, it was Murv who had to get out of the way. He scrambled to the side as Fleck barreled out, and tried to fire another attack, but Fleck extended his wings a bit further for a second, and smacked Murv in the face.

Murv was distracted. His head lurched up, and he stumbled. Fleck tried to scratch him, but he did still have enough sense move to the side for that, just slightly out of range.

He tried to raise his hand again. Oh if he let off an attack while Fleck was this close, it would be a lot harder to dodge. He lashed out with his tail, forcing Murv to at least move his hand back. Fleck flapped as hard as he could, sending more dust and debris into the air. Murv's hand came towards his face against the stuff floating in the air, specifically the stuff that probably used to be glass.

Fleck finally closed the rest of the distance, and bit into his sleeve. Not a very secure grip. Murv tried to pull away, and Fleck heard his sleeve tearing.

Still in the air, Fleck quickly wrapped his tail around Murv's leg, and yanked. The guy dropped to the ground, and Fleck dropped on top of him, wings folding up. Murv lifted his hand right at Fleck's face and tried to attack. Fleck quickly bit into his hand around the wrist, found the area with the easiest give, and tore his hand off.

Murv screamed. At this point, he'd been slammed onto the ground, had a dragon at least the size of a pony drop on him, and had a limb ripped off.

Fleck could keep drawing it out. Part of him still wanted to kill Murv in a painful way, rip more chunks of him out or crush his ribs with his teeth. Sink his mouth in between the ribs to his lungs. He'd killed Asplenium. He'd probably done the most damage here today.

But, he could feel Wren's distress at the idea. And despite everything, he cared about that more than his personal revenge. So he bit into Murv's neck. The death was quick, and probably a relief after Fleck's weight crushing him.

Fleck also spit out the hand that he could've eaten. He was a carnivore, but he was a bit put off at the idea of eating a rider, especially after their experience with Cyep.

But there. He'd helped. He'd done something. He let out a puff of air.

This stretch of the wrecked road was more or less empty, but he could still hear the sounds of fighting behind and ahead of him. And the smells he was dutifully trying to ignore, of course.

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And it was because of that, he didn't notice the danger he was in, until Wren reached the bottom of the building, and saw it for him.

'Fleck! Anvon! He's behind you!'

Wren had reached the bottom of her building. She'd moved further down the crumbling road. Bits of debris hung from the building and dust floated in the air. Despite walking down the middle of the path alone, no one seemed to notice her.

She was heading for the building most of the cultists seemed to be going for, with the exception of anyone still fighting by the dome, but Fleck was up ahead of her, on the road. He was easy to spot, obvious. Who was less obvious was her father, Anvon, standing in the shadow of the building behind Fleck. Between the darkness cast by the building, and the very literal rubble he could hide behind, it was hard to see him until he was nearly on top of Fleck, who was facing the wrong way to see him at all.

Fleck lurched forward, turning as he did.

The most important part was to get away from Anvon as fast as possible. It would take a while to take off flying from the ground. But he unfurled his wings as he moved, hearing Anvon coming behind him.

Anvon had lunged forward around the same time Fleck started moving, hitting empty air. Anvon kept going, moving after Fleck.

"No!" Wren shouted. "Dad!"

She ran between the two.

Anvon stepped back, fingers curling at his side. "Now now Wren. I'm not going to be caught by your little emotion magic again."

Wren frowned. She hadn't had a plan. She just wanted to get between the two, didn't want Anvon to hurt Fleck. He was talking like she had a plan.

She looked at him. He wasn't too old. Maybe in his fifties, sixties. You could tell, even with his warped body, but that still left plenty of years left in a human lifespan. But, Wren was a half elf. Doing the math, he must've been awfully young when she was born. Younger in years, though not mentality, than she was now. It was odd to think about.

'Never mind that,' she told herself. Sort of a battle going on to worry about. She didn't think she could fight him. But she could distract him. "Why did you attack them?" Wren asked. "No one knew what you looked like. You could've just entered the town, and gone to the building there."

Fleck had gotten into the sky at that point. But he couldn't just leave. He had to find a way to help. Without touching Anvon.

Anvon tipped his head back and smiled. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't amused at all, per say. But it still seemed like the wrong expression for the situation. There was screaming around them. Wren could still hear the bangs of guns and the clash of metal.

"Let's assume you didn't just tell them what we looked like. You clearly did, but we'll pretend. You know how this works by now. The more death, the easier it will be to open reality. We can make a bigger rift, that lasts longer."

He said it so casually. It was actually kind of hard to hear him, because his voice was quiet compared to the surrounding fighting.

And Wren didn't know how to respond. It was sickening. She shifted her weight. She didn't know how to respond, but apparently she'd done enough.

"I see you no longer understand." Anvon shook his head. "A shame really. I didn't want to lose you."

"Debatable if I ever did understand," Wren said.

And, that wasn't really true, was it? She'd questioned Eddie when she had her doubts. She certainly fell in line with Anvon's ideals without a fight. But, also, if Wren had her own doubts, she certainly wouldn't share them. This would be a first. And something must've shown in her tone, or expression.

"You got your memories back."

"Enough to know you're a liar. You didn't even try to look for me when I went missing. I wasn't exactly hard to miss. I was on the edge of Wyss Village." And the place and its buildings were so small, and in a stretch of open desert. It should've been easy to see her.

Anvon tilted his head. "Well that's the thing, isn't it? If you were supposedly there, no one would even have to look for you. Someone would've seen you on the way out, and taken you back. It would've been very low effort, and even with your low opinion, surely you realize it would be a practical option. You had your mind wiped. You're saying you couldn't have been magically hidden as well?"

Wren tried not to react, but she did have to wonder now. It was kind of stupid to leave one of their own behind, alive. She hadn't been wearing her cultist cloak when she woke up. The one Argone had fished out of the sand was almost certainly been hers. Had Elice taken that off, or had it come off in the wind? Had Elice done anything else, used her cleric abilities to hide her, or were the cultists just indifferent? Anvon was a bit of a liar. He might just be trying to shake her.

That seemed like the least of his crimes.

It wasn't to her. But it did remind her of something else she'd wanted to say. "And my mother? I know something was in my drink, at the bar you took me to. You either put it in yourself, or knew and went along with it. Were you trying to kill my mother?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Anvon scoffed. But then, he shifted his weight. "I did want you to prove your loyalty to the cult that day." And that meant killing someone. "But no, I really didn't plan on using Harmoni. How could I have? I'd have to make sure she crossed your path at just the right moment. I'm talented at planning for the future, but I'm not God."

"You could've done something. You could've made sure she lived. Don't you care at all?" They'd been married once, after all.

Anvon scowled. "Still hung up on that? In case you've forgotten, she was willingly in the cult too. She killed people. If you're worried about people who 'deserved' it, she should be at the bottom of the list."

Not a good idea. Wren didn't want to kill anyone, deserved or not. She certainly didn't want to kill her mother, and Anvon's attitude was not helping him.

She launched forward, arm out. She was fast, and Anvon apparently wasn't expecting it. She elbowed him in the stomach, hard enough he doubled over. But when she tried to follow that up by swinging her arm at his head, he rolled to the side. He grabbed her arm, the one that wasn't moving to attack. She should've known he was going to do that, but he had a lot more practice fighting than her, and that was the arm she couldn't fully move anyway. He'd grabbed her at an awkward angle, not very secure, but it didn't matter. As soon as he touched her, her body froze up, and he was able to readjust, moving in front of her.

"I'm not going to kill you Wren. I don't even particularly want to hurt you. But here's a tip. DON'T GET IN THE WAY!"

Then Wren was being flung to the side with enough force to send her sprawling to the ground. Her knees and palms were bleeding from where they'd scraped pavement and rough ground.

She looked up. Anvon disappeared into the building maybe half the cultists had entered by now. She could see his back retreating through the gray dust clouds. Fire started to go up around the doorframe behind him. Probably magical, the way it moved.

Wren's hands clenched into fists, getting them even bloodier. She got up, and ran after him, getting into the building just before the fire filled the door entirely.