"Should we touch it?"
The gem seemed to pulse with raw, draconic energy, the transparent green surface glittering with unsealed magical filaments that flashed in an unworldly fashion down the sides like spiders. Lurid, red tinged mud congealed at the base of the cluster, and she found herself disgusted at the grime splattered on the bottommost section of the gem. It ought to be flawless, like a cloudless winter sky lit up by the dull, pale sun.
Not that she'd ever seen many days like that. Usually she was confined to the dark, dank corridors of the hollowed out Mountain of Malefor, jeered at mutely and openly by underlings scurrying to fulfill their various tasks. Gaul hadn't been much better, either. She had quickly grown tired of seeing the mocking, lopsided grin he'd adopted for exactly that purpose, and his one beady, cold, normal eye glaring at her sullenly from under his heavy brow.
But that was all gone for now, and had been for some time. She had no words for how enormously grateful she was to the purple dragon who had freed her from the evil that enveloped the land, that had once controlled her every move, her thoughts.
That very purple dragon glanced at her, raising a forepaw to the gem. The immense power it was giving off had infatuated them as securely as a magnet, pulling them towards it, awakening the instinctual urge to access its power.
He had experience with spirit gems, only his had usually been smaller, less bulging with energy, and he guessed that the energy itself was likely less potent. He remembered his first encounter with one, his utter confusion and helplessness to the alien whim to break the encasement, and Sparx's puzzled demands to know what he himself couldn't understand.
'Spyro… what was that about?'
'I-I don't really know…I just felt like I had to hit it. And when I did…the power of a thousand suns surged through my body.'
That rather poetic response had sparked his embarrassment, but he'd stubbornly refused to allow himself to look away in humiliation as he usually would. It wasn't what Ignitus would've wanted him to do anyway. Odd how much of an effect the fire Guardian had had on him over the span of a few short hours.
'Right…okay. Y'know you should really sleep better. All this magical mumbo-jumbo is going to your head and you really need to get eight hours.'
He cocked his head. The aura from the gem was somehow different, and the message it sent him was unfamiliar yet again. But it was a spirit gem; it didn't have any mind or intentions. So he felt he should obey what it was telling him to do.
He raised his forepaw again, then paused, partly because Cynder was not following suit, partly because the message the gem was sending him required him to do so. "Go on, Cynder," he said, reassuring her with a quick smile.
In unison, they both reached out and placed a taloned forepaw on the mud before the gleaming gem cluster, and the instant they did so, Spyro felt something click in his mind.
The gem seemed to spring to life, the rippling magical pulses becoming increasingly stronger and faster, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Cynder withholding a gasp as she too, felt the wrenching, synchronized throbbing in the chest.
Gazing dumbly at the gem, he could only blink as smaller, entirely artificially sustained crystals disembodied themselves from the main gem, distorting the air around them as they hovered towards them, as attracted to the dragons as they were to them.
But then, they were Ancestral gifts, each gem absorbed increasing their strength. Likely it was their sole purpose to be cracked open and become part of the dragon responsible. Only, Spyro had never been able to figure out why the Apes degenerated into them when killed. Why they didn't simply fall to the ground to rot and fester like any other dead creature. Now that it hit him, Spyro wondered what happened to a dragon when it was time for them to go. Would he…disappear?
Yes. I will because that's what spirit gems are. Spirits bound to the earth by to give strength to the new generation…
Spyro didn't know how he knew that. It seemed to come rather instinctively, such as the burst of flame had come instinctually three years ago when the life of Sparx had been threatened.
"Oh, wow," Cynder whispered, her voice soft and irreverent, gazing unblinkingly into the intense light of the gems before her. Spyro turned to her in surprise. She had never shown any particular emotion or surprise, preferring to keep them hidden behind a blank, indifferent mask.
Perhaps the presence of the energy was responsible for that. Not that he rued her new confidence – it was good, for it might mean that she was slowly adapting to her freedom. He hoped she'd unfreeze enough to allow herself amusement at any joke he might share with her; he'd tried, but she had merely regarded him serenely, corners of the mouth twitching half-heartedly as she tried to smile.
She returned his look with one of puzzlement, "Something's wrong?"
"No," Spyro shook his head, "There's nothing wrong, Cynder. It's just…"
"What?" She was curious now.
Spyro glanced back at the gem, pretending to be continually interested in its crystalline depths. "…You're different, that's all."
A dry laugh reached his ears, and she said, eyes glittering, "So're you. We've both changed since…since it happened." She trailed off.
Spyro looked over his shoulders in a quick examination of himself, and realized she was, in a way right. Troubled, he said, "That's our bodies. I don't think I've changed much other than that…"
"Oh?" Cynder challenged, "Y'think so?" She snorted. "I don't think you would've let that Ape go unhurt three years ago."
Spyro winced. "It was waving a white flag Cyn, you know what that means."
"Would they've shown you the same mercy?"
"Well…"
"And that's another thing. You never called me 'Cyn' three years ago."
Spyro gave her an exasperated look. "I didn't know you that well. You ran away before…" He stopped, realizing he had erred.
Cynder averted her gaze, finishing flatly, "Before you had a chance to get to know me properly."
Both dragonets fell into an uncomfortable silence, neither wanting to end the conversation, and neither willing to breach the quiet.
Spyro looked up first, but not to speak. The energy emitted from the gem was transferring another message, one that stirred a wistful, wonderful burning sensation in this throat, and his purple scales affected a luminous gleam. He reached out towards the nearest floating concentration of power, not hearing Cynder's exclamation. The moment he made contact, his brain was gripped with a flood of light and pain, dazzling his mind's eye. Within the flow, he saw immense waves of fiery dragon katra, ancient memories and urges from the very Ancestors themselves…
Desperately, he wrenched back, pulling himself from the stream.
With an unexpected fatigue, he fell forwards, shivering. Cynder stared at him, demanding, "What happened? Are you alright?"
He looked up at her with an effort, and tried with a series of facial contortions to tell her of his immurement in the intense draconic force, of the fire. In the end, when she couldn't fathom what he meant and some measure of strength had been returned to him, he merely said, suppressing a grin, "I felt the power of a thousand suns."
End.