Note that this fic's prologue is MEANT to be confusing. The plot elements mentionned will only make sense once the plot start to thicken. Also, this is not an one-shot and it is not a non-Spyro Spyro fic (in the way that despite what happens in the prologue, Spyro's appearance is certainly not limited to the prologue at all).
Prologue: Agony of Innocence
"The past hurt, isn't it? The more you fight, the more painful the events unfolding... and the more furiously you fight, to forget it all. An endless, vicious circle..."
Emptiness... vacuum... only dreamless sleep...
"You have been used all your life... and you know it. All your life, people making you out into what you are not, treating you in such ways because of the prophecies..."
... but the Darkness... was not total...
"Suffering... you have felt much of it, although little physical. This is the fate of weak Dragonfly-bound dragons... weaklings who can't bear to face the world alone and use living shields to suffer for them."
... a taint of crimson... like a flow of blood from the sky covering him entirely... It was a dream and yet... it felt so real...
"... but you are not like the others. You are not a coward or a weakling... yet, everyone assume you are. All you wished... was for peace and quiet... for happiness... but they chose you. You were thrown into the fires of war. They made you into a "hero"..."
It's then that he realized... that it was not a dream. Everything... was getting dark. Spyro gasped for air... but the blood filling his throat blocked it out. He could feel pain everywhere... absolutely everywhere... and his eyes... bleeding... blood... his eyes were no more, blind he was and he knew it...
"Ever since they plunged you into Darkness, never did they allow you to emerge. Submerged into Darkness, you were progressively forged by the hellish flames of Evil... may you like it or not. You grew violent, brutal, and merciless like your foes. Your fears vanished. Your innocence... vanished."
His wings? Couldn't feel them. His left hind leg felt... this angle... it was broken. So was his right arm. His chest... he felt as if the wind was blowing straight through his chest and hammered into his heart. It hurt so much... and he can feel it... this warm feeling...
"But still... everyone ignored your Fall. No one cared if you had become a Fallen Dragon as long as you protected the Realms from what had now become your own element and kind. Nobody became worried from your Vaccum Breath. No nobody paid attention to your newfound ability to turn anger into power. No one paid attention to how you now torn apart your foes and fought them with mindless fury, like a soulless beast... after all, you were a "hero". Who cares who you are and what you do, as long as the Realms remain safe?"
Sparx... they had always been close as they were raised together. Brothers, friends, and allies... but then, a sense of intense disgust and sadness came over to him...
"Your Realm, your true Realm... is long gone. Your kind... your original kind, extinct, you being the last of your kind along with her. But she is beyond your grasp now, condemned by those who made you into a "hero". You are alone... and you know it."
Regrets... and sadness. He was still young and many trusted him. He couldn't break their hearts and let them down. He just couldn't. He tried to get up... but his entire body was shaken by intense pain as something pierced through his left shoulder, causing him to lose his other arm. Blue mixed to the swirling crimson Darkness... tears.
"But what truly killed you was not even all of this... but rather, your brother... and your soul mate. Both vanished through the actions of the Realms... Your brother, Sparx, the dragonfly. Never did you ever wanted him to share your pain. Never did you asked him to take the hits for you and to see you as his burden. All you asked of him was to be a friend... but in the end, he was consumed. Pressure, feelings of being useless, obligations dictated by others, the refusal to see you suffer... in the end, he gave in and you saw the spiritual death of your brother little by little..."
He coughed violently, feeling thick, warm blood fill his throat once again. His heart was beating too fast, his entire body bleeding, the Darkness pulsating as he went through a violent agony. The warm feeling amplified...
"Then... there was her. She rejected this world, which both of you hated, to follow you. She saw you as you truly were... but accepted it. You were both all the same... and she saw in you the symbol that her beliefs were not in vain... as well as someone who saw her as who she was truly and appreciated it. You were always bothered by her extreme personality... but in the end, you followed what your heart dictated. Through the very last of the cursed stones, you carved the Promised Heart out of Dark Gem... and you gave her the right half while she kept the left one. However, the promise was so easily broken... by him... by... Mighty."
The Darkness flashed... images of a golden dragonfly flashed before his eyes. His brother, Sparx... Then, there was the black dragon, Cynder. Fallen, lost... yet, he always longed to have her return to her former self. Hunter... a true friend, who stood by his side. Elora, a magician that always stood with him... and then, a pink female dragon... Ember... and he felt his entire spirit crushed, his will to survive turning into despair. The final flashes before death... he struggled to keep them at bay. He didn't want to lose them... to lose them... even if he had already lost them.
"Ember... she was the one, isn't it? Yet, in an instant, heartbroken by her kind, she was driven into the arms of Mighty... and to make matters worse... it was you who was designed with the task to destroy the relationship yourself. You stood alone, prey to unspeakable pain... and yet, they still asked you to continue being their "hero" as if nothing had happened. In the end... you decided to end it all."
The flashes stopped... and time seemed to freeze.
Spyro, suddenly strangely lucid, stood there... and he felt... one last feeling, stronger than all the others.
Satisfaction...
The Realms... ungrateful, heartless monsters. They stole everything from him... His childhood, his innocence, his dreams, his friends, his love, his hope, his future... and even his pain.
He was not allowed to suffer or die. He was not allowed failure nor weakness. Sparx, the sole one which they did not consume in body, suffered an unimaginable torture. While he kept living as a ghost, used as a puppet to fight whatever petty villain rose at random, his brother screamed his lungs out as the pain torn him apart. Every time he was being slashed, sliced, crushed, burnt, frozen, shocked, or otherwise injured, it was he, his brother, who suffered it all...
He was a ghost, forced to follow him. He had given in, forgetting all about himself, losing any sense of self. He was no longer his brother... he was his protector, a being who had no identity of its own and acted as a living suit of armor.
He had decided... to end it all.
To feel the pain he was meant to suffer... the one he, and only he, had ever been supposed to feel.
Maybe this was why he cut the connection... and as he felt his entire body broken, Spyro stopped fighting the Darkness. It was what was meant to be... the pain, suffering, agony, and death he had always wished to go through.
Rather than live as a joke of a hero, used and tortured mentally, he would give his life to protect the Realms. Just the beauty of the gesture reminded him of why he had accepted his first journey and why he had continued to fight despite losing everything.
The warm feeling disappeared and he welcomed the cold of lonely death. He allowed himself to lie down, rolling his eyes, the blue fading as only crimson and emptiness made up his vision...
"However... there is something else to it all... For although the prophecies as they know it might not be true... the do have a base... a base that is very true..."
All of those thoughts... it was his own and yet... he had never thought about such things. Was it all... a dream? The final dream?
"Every ten millenias, a purple dragon is born they say... but you know very well, that this is false. There is no such thing as a purple dragon..."
... but there is such thing as a dream reborn...
"... isn't it... Spyro?"
He was obviously agonizing... yet, it was not going to end. For some reason, he was convinced that he would wake up... he didn't know why... but he would. He just... would...
Breathe... breathe... and the slow beat of a heart... his own...
... and then... there was silence. No more breathing, heart no longer beating...
... then, a scream... Sparx's.
It echoed for what seemed to be an eternity and then, nothing.
Such relaxing silence... and such a peaceful moment...
The Darkness came to him and welcomed him, its motherly embrace bringing cold, dreamless sleep. The Darkness engulfed his soul and clouded his perceptions, singing silently to the young dragon a lullaby of no music and no words.. Spyro finally closed his eyes, his weariness and nightmares disappearing, peaceful rest overcoming his mind...
At long last... peace and quiet. Sleeping in silence. Resting in peace...
.. and yet...
... half of a crystal heart continued to beat even with its glow gone, as if the light had not truly vanished ansd that it was simply awaiting for it to return once again...
The legend did not end.
To be continued...