Spyro stood nervously on the balcony staring at the night sky. Next to him stood Cynder, who, a mere few hours ago had almost killed him.
They had exchanged about twelve words since coming out here. But now silence issued between them.
Spyro was itching to talk to her, but what would say? If he mentioned anything about the battle in Convexity, it would make her uncomfortable.
She was studying the stars right now, or so it seemed.
Only a few seconds after Spyro had come out, she had joined him, which made Spyro suspect that she had followed him when he first left the group. Maybe she felt safer around him right now. The thought made him rather pleased.
In truth Spyro was fascinated by her. There were so many questions he was longing to ask. What had it felt like to be controlled by dark magic? What had she thought about? What did she remember? What had she thought of him then…and more importantly what did she think of him now?
Just when Spyro was on the verge of pointing out something in the sky, Cynder said, "You must have really hated me." She didn't say it as though it was a question, she seemed to only state it as though it were a fact.
And that shocked Spyro. "No," he reassured her, "I didn't hate you. I wasn't even angry at you. I just knew I had to stop you from releasing the Dark Master."
He saw her flinch when he spoke the name.
"Oh…sorry."
Cynder seemed to regain her composure, "it doesn't matter. I don't think I could ever hear his name without remembering…"
Tentatively, Spyro asked, "Do you…do you remember it?"
"Not really." The hard note in her voice made Spyro think he had somehow made a mistake in asking.
Seeing his regretful expression, Cynder hesitated and said, "Well…just flashes and sounds and emotions."
"Is that all? No battles?"
"Spyro," Cynder fixed him with a stern gaze, "the Dark Master made me kill every dragon that might have been my ally.. Do you think I'm proud of that? I was there and I did it and I don't want to remember it."
Spyro was completely taken aback. He was wished that he hadn't asked.
What I'd give to be invisible.
"I…I'm sorry Cynder. I shouldn't have asked that."
Cynder sighed, "I know. I don't want to remember…but I do."
"You do?"
"Yes. Well, some of it."
She was silent from a moment, "the clearest is when we fought."
"Go on," Spyro urged her, "Mom said that it always helps to talk about it when you feel bad."
Cynder hesitated, "I can't Spyro, not yet."
"Don't you trust me?" the question was out before Spyro could stop it.
Cynder sighed, "I just met you…but I trust you. How could I not? You saved my life."
Spyro blinked and nodded, "can you just tell me one thing?"
"Like what?"
"What did you think of me?"
"Before?"
"Yeah."
Cynder snorted a wisp of smoke, "I'm not sure. I wasn't really inclined to dislike you, but…to put it bluntly, you were kind of annoying."
"Because I kept interfering?"
"I guess so. I was kind patient with you. You weren't really a threat so I mainly tried to scare you off the idea of becoming one."
Cynder paused. She had said more than she had intended.
"And Cynder," Spyro asked, "one more thing." His voice became hesitant, "what do you think of me now?"
Cynder stared at him long and hard. "I like you," she said simply, "I think of you as the release from my mental prison, and as my friend."
Spyro sighed in relief.
Finish