Just to let you know. I currently am in the middle of updating the chapters which will take a little time, so don't expect a new chapter any time soon. So, if you notice a drop in quality in between chapters then you know why. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. A big shout out to YourCompleteDemise for all the help he's providing me to help improve this story. Let the journey begin!
Memories of the Past
A single purple dragon, with aching wings and a leaf bandaged around his front left ankle, trudged regretfully across the golden, soft sands of Quakedor's beach. He couldn't cross the main paths; how could he? Warfang's guards, or what remains of them, patrolled those roads tirelessly in pursuit of him for a crime he was sure he didn't mean to commit. A sorrowful golden dragonfly fluttered quietly behind, constantly watching his brother to make sure he was feeling alright. Black clouds covered the skies; there was no rain, only purple lightning. The gentle lapping sounds of the waves washed over the beach. But in the distance, a raging storm echoed across the lands.
The drake took a moment to breathe as his paws sunk deeper into the shallow sands. His dragonfly friend floated closer into eyesight, giving him a reassuring smile. The purple dragon raised his head and returned a soft smile to mask the true emotions he had bottled up inside. But it did not last, his false smile disappearing as his true face was revealed, the sad expression that he had adopted as natural. This short minute of silence, a moment now rare, gave the dragon time to reflect on past events.
One month ago, this dragon saved the realm with his partner, the former Terror of the Skies. Since then though he hadn't seen her - no one has. Many presume if she didn't perish from the pulling back of the earth, the destruction that followed most likely finished her off. For you see, every show of power, has a price - and saving the world had a very bitter price indeed. The realm was in very bad shape. Warfang...was no more. The splitting of the earth had caused a crack so deep it divided the earth beneath the city into two, causing much of the city and its inhabitants to be swallowed up within. So, when the broken earth merged itself back together all that remained was the ghost of a once glorious past. Terrador was amongst those to die; when the cave he and many of residents hiding in had begun collapsing, he used all his mighty strength to hold it intact long enough for them to get out at the expense of his life. The other two guardians though made it through.
Thunder storms ravaged the lands, as did the rare earthquake that came time to time. One could find it hard to tell the difference between the burnt lands and the sprawling hills that surrounded it apart from the lack of lava. The world now was one step away from being an apocalypse if it was not considered one already. Moments of sunshine were like seeing a rainbow, rare…but held a sense of hope, giving what remained of the residents of these destroyed lands a break from the starvation and despair. What was worse was that Malefor's armies survived: pillaging, murdering and burning down remaining villages unlucky enough to survive prior tragedies.
You get the idea, the once lush and thriving landscape of the realm is now ceased to exist. Only the barren rough terrain that only knows darkness remained. People had even started calling it the rightly named Black Lands. All this was blamed on the purple dragon. All blamed Spyro.
"Yo buddy? How are you holding up?" Sparx gently asked.
"Not too good still…" he replied. He was trying his best to not let everything get to him, but even someone as resilient and defiant as Spyro felt the effects, and so he often had episodes of depression.
The two of them had been on the run ever since they returned to Warfang. They were tired, hungry and lost, but worst of all hunted by both armies: the remaining forces of Malefor and those he once sought to protect. They only had each other to call upon as friends. It wasn't anything they weren't used to, just the two of them; but the difference was this time they couldn't turn back and go to a place called home. Sparx was grateful to be alive. Spyro though, had many regrets, many conflicts that left him undecided on his aspect of life.
"Sparx, can you give me a moment to rest please? This is one of the first times we can rest properly and I need time to think," Spyro asked.
"Of course bro, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm your man," Sparx sincerely replied. There was a lack of sarcasm evident in his voice.
"Thank you."
Spyro settled down and gazed upon the unwavering ocean that reminded him of his former self and the darkened skies that represented his cursed soul today. Sparx settled softly atop his head, dreaming of a place called home. Purple lightning crackled above, illuminating the blackened ground below for a moment.
"Boom!"
When Spyro awoke the day after he had saved them all, he awoke in a truly different world. A world without sunlight, the same world described before. It looked remarkably the same, just that an evil shadow had been cast over it.
"What happened? Where am I? Is this the afterlife?" Spyro questioned, still waking up.
Spyro glanced around his surroundings. There was no sign of life: no enemy, no Malefor, no Cynder.
"Cynder?"
Again, he looked around. But there was no sign of the dragoness.
"No, she can't be gone…I can feel it. She isn't gone." His emotions stirred within.
Spyro let a tear slip. He vividly remembered Cynder's last three words. Yet he wasn't able to return them.
Another lightning strike roared through the dragon's ears.
"Boom!"
Spyro landed near Warfang. A great many creatures - dragons, moles and the very occasional atlawa, to name a few - were gathered in front of their once beloved city. They hung their heads low and solemnly. It dawned on Spyro at this point that not everything was back to normal.
"Spyro! He's returned!" one citizen chanted excitedly.
Chatter spread through them like wildfire, bringing some warmth to the dragon. Hunter and the other two guardians were the first to embrace the dragon, positively looking upon him.
However, just as the smallest amounts of courage can turn the tides of war, so can the tiniest amount of hate…
Spyro began sobbing, muffled whimpers escaped his mouth.
Three days after Spyro's return, there was still no sign of Cynder. He did, however, reunite with his brother. He had by now retold his story hundreds of times: every detail, every battle and every step of the journey. However, rumours of Spyro's involvement or even possible cause of the planet's death began spreading, that was until, a black dragon with an infamous past and outstanding knowledge of purple dragons outright blamed the drake in his face. He managing to rally the city with overwhelming evidence to turn against him. Of course, he had his own vendetta against the dragon, exaggerating his points, but no one could tell. Love was bleached away from their souls as hatred fuelled their hearts and desires to get rid of him.
"Spyro! You are nothing but a traitorous coward. You caused the death of our planet! A fate worse than the death of oneself. You had the choice to make the planet a better place yet this is the image you created it in? Death and darkness!" Umbrafor accused.
"What?" Spyro was shocked, fear settling in him like a fever.
"People of Warfang, this dragon has committed a crime worse than murder. He is at fault at what happened to our beloved world and he must pay. But capture him, and I can return the world to what we once knew and loved!"
Many of the people gazed upon him with fury. Spyro leapt back as ball of flame exploded in front of him.
"Wait! I didn't do this, or at least I didn't mean to." He stepped backwards as the city's wrath closed around him.
Another ball of flame hurtled towards him. Spyro put his wings out to block the attack. A single wall of thick ice separated him from the mob. The fireball made contact with the icy barricade and hissed, disappearing in the process.
"Spyro my boy! Run!" Cyril yelled from above.
Spyro's heart rate spiked as he turned and flew in the opposite direction. Sparx flew close behind.
Spyro breathed a heavy sigh, it felt good to be able to let it out. Now that he could piece the picture together a little more.
"Thank you Sparx. I'm ready to continue."
"I understand dude. even big boys like us have gotta let it out."
If he was being honest, Spyro didn't know where he was going. If anything, he was going in circles. He didn't have a goal or location he felt he needed to go to. But all he knew was that he could only move forward. He sighed again, getting to his feet and shaking off the loose sand gathered on his paws. Once more, he began walking across the barren, wondering what he should do next.
If you have gotten to this point and enjoyed the first chapter then great, I hope that feeling continues
And before you leave just some heads up. Bold writing is for my notes I put in of course. Italics mean that whatever is being spoken is either in the character's head or quietly spoken so that only they hear it.