Kingdoms of Ohm: The Dark Inferno #2

Oh, The Humanity!

CRACK!

"There we go-"

I whipped around just as the voice ceased. And there, kneeling over the broken remains of an igneous vase, was a boy. A terrified boy. He stared directly at me, jaws slumped open, and a stone slipping clean from his hand. I fell silent all the same, both in shock, and in anger. Already was I sensing a primal feeling welling up inside me, that single gut-wrenching sensation that rots in every dragon when they come across man.

Kill him!

I blinked in fear. The boy's eyes quickly darted right, then back at me. Mine soon followed his example; a strange staff was leaning against the left wall of the cave. His need to seize it immediately marked it as a weapon in my eyes. Yes, it was a few feet out of reach. But he could make it, if he dared tried it.

Do not do it, I wanted to snarl, focusing my glowing eyes upon him now. You know what I will do-

The boy lunged for it anyway. The Sight illuminated in response, watching him snag the staff from the wall and point it at me.

"Septo-!"

"Freeze," I said, letting the Sight take control. The boy's body seized up, trapped mid-gasp in his attacking position. Now there was little to protect himself from me.

"N-No, ergh!"

But that wasn't my intention... yet. I looked him over, studying the strands of brown hair folding over his face, and the cold, white bloom of his scaleless skin. His triangular shirt draped loosely over his arms (poncho is what I believe they are called), and his leather caligae's bend into the rock beneath him. He looked like a ghost... but hatchling sized according to human notion. And then I noticed the stick he was carrying, which seemed to fizz at his touch. Even if it's intention was to fool me, I wasn't going to take the risk of figuring out why.

"Drop it." I then ordered. The boy gasped, his fingers unwillingly relaxing and dropping the glowing staff to his side. The veins of his neck bulged as he continued to struggle; it was futile to fight the strength of the Sight. I snorted at his insolence, pacing around the frozen boy with a tremor in each step. And he could feel it -- the heat of my breath, the rubbing of my scales, the fierceness in my eyes -- it all came together to scare him. To put him in his place. To break him.

"¿Qué haces en mi casa?"

The boy gulped. "W-What?"

"¿Dime qué estás haciendo aquí?!"

"I don't-" the boy shook his head. "I d-don't understand!"

I paused mid-step. Did he speak dragontalk, too? Did they all speak my language? That wouldn't make sense, we were taught to-

Nevermind. I guess one-hundred and fifty years changed more than just Az'hark.

"Who are you, human?" I tried again, easing the Sight to a fraction of its power for the human to relax. "Why have you stepped foot in my home?!"

"Y-You're real..." the boy's eyes widened. "I only ever heard stories-"

"Answer me!" I snarled. The boy whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

"Ah! No, I-" His teeth gritted in pain. "I am b-but a squire-"

My lips curled upward in distaste. "A job position doesn't mean anything to me..."

"It means enough... t-to me!"

My growl strengthened in tone. He wasn't going to spill much of what I asked for; most humans were resilient to imprisonment. But I knew past dragons who've found ways to skin away their bravery, and it wasn't long until an idea came to mind.