This is where I will keep all of my one-shots I will do. They will pop up at random whenever I start to go mad from working on my main story, Eternal Darkness. These one-shots will be of different subjects and various lengths. And unlike my actual story, these will have actual titles (yay!).
If you all want to know what inspired me to write a certain one-shot, send me the title in a pm and I'll get to you as soon as I can. And feel free to put down ideas in a review or a pm and if I like it I'll do one when I start going insane again.
Without further ado, I present the first one-shot in this series.
On the Fifth Day
Five days. Five days without her. Five days without her lovely smile, her unbroken love. The Guardians said that her heart gave out due to the stress of her past. No one cared about her death; in fact, they relished it. Some even went as far out as to say they killed her. Many didn't believe them however; among the most skeptical was Spyro.
He was with her when she had suddenly collapsed on the ground on their way through town. She showed no signs of the onset of the heart attack. They were enjoying a leisurely walk together, the same way they had always done for years. When her legs gave out, Spyro caught her, assuming she had tripped. Only once he discovered that she wouldn't get back up did Spyro begin to worry.
At first, he refused to believe it. Heart rapidly dropping into his stomach, Spyro put his head to her chest. Nothing. Her usually focused emerald eyes they were just staring out, empty and devoid of life. Bystanders watched, but nobody had tried to help, nobody. Spyro frantically demanded for the Guardians, and in the meantime, a young dragon, Flame was his name, offered his assistance.
When the Guardians arrived, Spyro was alone with her, hugging her ferociously. The crowd had dispersed and anyone passing by just glanced at them before continuing on with their lives. Spyro was hunched over her, tearing flowing like an untamed river. Terrador, the leader of the Guardians, had to pry her lifeless form away from Spyro so he could do the examination himself.
She was proclaimed dead at the scene. Two days later a funeral was held in her honor. No one showed up, save Spyro, the Guardians, Flame, and Sparx, who Spyro forced to come. Spyro gave the eulogy, and it was a beautiful one that broke the hearts of the few who attended, even Sparx. The words never stopped echoing, even days after.
Born in a life she didn't want, she was a slave to the Dark Master. She was forced to do things she didn't want to. Even after she was freed, no one wanted to trust her. They isolated her; they abused her mentally and socially. They even stole her possessions. But there was one thing they could never steal or tarnish: her resolve.
She walked through thin and thick, head held up high acting as though nothing affected her. But little did everyone know that those words and isolation hold a lot of power over her. Every night, she would return back to me, almost in tears and some nights doused in them.
She was not only a good friend to all of us, and my mate, she was also an expectant mother. She was taking care of a couple of eggs that were yet to be laid, and now, we will never see our beautiful children. I hold her in my heart, for now and for all eternity.
Once Spyro finished with his speech everyone present took their own time saying final farewells and remembering the good times, few or many, they had with her. The honor for cremation was given to Spyro, partly because he could breathe fire, and partly because it felt right.
Walking up to the specially-built pyre, Spyro looked over his mate one last time. Her obsidian scales had started to gray, and the symbols on her forehead and arms were fading. Pressing his paw to her cheek, Spyro felt her ice-cold body, and he softly caressed her head until¸ at the final moment, he hesitantly pushed it back.
"I love you," Spyro whispered one last time before he spat out a small orb of fire on a torch and set the pyre ablaze. The licking flame crept across the wood until it reached the late dragoness. The fire licked across her scales and soon engulfed her and the pyre. The steady crackling of fire and scales was overpowering and kept everyone silent.
Except Spyro. He broke down in front of everyone and started crying. His tears dripped down his muzzle and melded with the dirt. Eventually everyone left, leaving the purple dragon there alone with the ashes of his mate. Spyro glanced up through his water-filled eyes and could see that the sun was setting over the horizon.
Shifting his gaze behind him Spyro saw that everyone had left him alone. Wiping away stray tears, the purple dragon stood up and left the ashes of his mate to be blown away with the wind.
Three days were spent in prolonged mourning for her, while everyone else gradually returned to their daily lives. Those three days were spent waking up in tears, going throughout the day trying to be strong, and returning home again in tears. This night, however, Spyro had something else planned.
Returning to the pyre where the funeral was held, Spyro had a grip on a small jar. Approaching the burnt pyre, Spyro opened the lid, grabbed some ashes, and gingerly placed them inside the container until it was roughly half-full. Spyro screwed the jar shut and took off into flight.
An hour later, Spyro landed at Twilight Falls, at the mouth of the waterfall where the rock split the river. Going forward until he could see the drop-off, Spyro stood and opened the jar.
This was the spot where Spyro confessed his love to her, and where they had officially becomelife-long partners. Taking a deep breath, Spyro shook the contents of the jar. The ashes flew out of the jar and scattered in the wind. Sitting back down, Spyro gazed into the stars. While all knew Spyro was her mate, none knew how badly he was hurt by the death of Cynder.