A/N: Hi guys, this fic is basically during Dawn of the Dragon, in the Dragon city where there's a mini battle. I've just twisted it a little bit to suit this and would love a few reviews.
Nothing makes any sense anymore. The sound of Explosions, shouts, crumbling debris, the sound of the fires licking everything in its path, it's all melded into one, deafening roar. People say that the ability to see through one's eyes is a gift but I call it a curse as I look at the aftermath of the battle.
Buildings had collapsed, their walls littering the ground while people scrambled over the top of the debris, scavenging for supplies. Fires were starting everywhere and people were desperately running here and there to quench them, trying to save what they could.
Stretchers had appeared, carrying the dead and injured. It smelled awful and I wrinkled my snout in disgust. I could hear crying and I wished desperately that I could close myself off from everything around me.
I had bought this on myself. It was my fault, I caused it all. No one else is to blame except myself and it hurt. All these soldiers had gone out to battle on my command with high hopes and an honor to stand up to Malefour but many had been struck down and killed.
I couldn't do this anymore. I can't be the purple dragon anymore. Being a leader is just too much to handle. I may get all the credit for success but I'm also held responsible for the deaths and the destruction.
If I close my mind, I can picture the battlefield clearly in my mind. Soldiers' torso's strewn everywhere, covered in blood and the smell, oh the smell, it was enough to sicken the strongest of dragons. I remember flying over the battlefield with Cynder, seeing it unfold before me.
She was dead now, Cynder. She had been injured greatly during the battle and once it was over, her wounds had been treated as best as possible. For 6 hours her condition was unknown and I remember keeping myself busy as best I could.
And then the unthinkable happened. She wouldn't recover; she would die within the next hour. I flew as fast as I could to see her and I reached her at her final movements. She was exchanging words as best she could with the other dragons and Ignatius whispered words of comfort. She turned towards me then and looked at me with those dark eyes that showed no emotion and gave me a knowing look. Then she died.
It had taken all my strength not to break down in grief.
There was no hope left. We were outnumbered and vulnerable and a large portion of our army was dead or injured. Malefour's army never seemed to grow weak.
I had let everyone down and I was alone now, as I should be; grieving the loss of all those who fought in the battle.
It was all over, there was no hope left.
A/N: So what did you guys think? I'd love it if you could comment on whether I got the characterization of Spyro right as this is my first fic in the Spyro Fandom and I spelled Malefour right.