This is a story I'm rewriting. Has slight Dragon Age influences. I own nothing but an OC that might appear; not sure yet.
Spyro looked over his shoulder, the purple dragon nearly tripping on a low lying root as he stumbled, the wet floor squishing between his talons.
"Hello?" Spyro asked, squinting his eyes to look through the thick white fog, the male dragon looking back to find his muddy tracks disappearing in the mists. The remaining footprints were slowly filling with water and having the muddy earth collapse in on them.
Spyro released a sharp gasp as he heard something move, the creature's muddy footfalls reaching his ears. Whatever it was, Spyro couldn't see it through the fog.
"Cynder?" Spyro asked, wondering where the black dragoness went. It was so strange. She was nowhere in sight and their magical binding seemed to be gone.
Spyro turned his head to peer into the fog, swearing he heard something. It sounded like a whisper, but of what Spyro could only guess.
"Sparx?" Spyro called out, his voice echoing into oblivion.
Spyro waited for several seconds. Upon hearing no reply, the dragon lowered his head and continued walking, pausing in his stride as he saw something through the mirk.
"Hunter? Is that you?" Spyro called to the strange outline hidden within the fog. It looked almost like it was a resident from Avalar, slender and tall.
Spyro approached the figure, noticing the silhouette's identity didn't improve as he made his advance.
"Hey! I'm not going to hurt you!" Spyro shouted out, his call echoing once again as he started running toward the shadow.
Spyro ran through the fog, his eyes never leaving the clouded figure that did not seem to get any clearer. It was so strange. Where was he? What kind of fog is this?
A snapping sound was heard as Spyro's leg got caught in a low lying vine, the purple dragon falling forward as his chest slammed into the ground, his body skidding about a foot until he came to rest.
Coughing, Spyro got up, shaking himself from the fall, the white mist suddenly clearing, the faintly suddenly becoming familiar to the young dragon. He was home.
The scent of forest and swamp land filled Spyro's nose, his nostrils flaring as he took in the aroma.
Forgetting about the strange creature he saw just moments ago, Spyro followed the familiar path he traveled many times as a hatchling with Sparx.
Spyro's heart jumped in fear. He hadn't seen his adoptive family in over three years. Would they still love him? Would they recognize him? What would they think of him? Did he make them proud? Were they even alive?
Hesitantly, Spyro rounded the corner, water sloshing as he moved through the marshes. It was then he saw his childhood home, and his heart skipped a beat in terror.
"N-no..." Spyro stammered, his voice faltering as he stared in horror at the scene before him.
The hollowed tree that his hatchling hood was built around was burned to a crisp, dead moles, cheetahs and dragons impaled on the singed branches, their mouths open in an eternal scream as blood seeped down their open wounds. On some of the corpses their intestines seemed to be completely ripped out, as if something was feeding on them. Some even had missing limbs.
Spyro pulled his front paw away from the water, feeling the water suddenly warm up. Spyro gasped in terror upon realizing the blood was flowing through the muddy waters towards him.
Spyro backed up, terror striking his heart as he went to turn and run but was stopped by a familiar voice.
"Spyro!"
"M-Mom? Mom!" Spyro cried, turning back and running towards the tree of death, the purple dragon slipping in the thick blood that seemed to pour from the very bark. He couldn't leave without his parents. They needed him!
"Mom! Dad!" Spyro yelled, practically forcing his head into the small hollowed stump, looking around the small cubby for any sign of his adoptive parents, finding none.
"Mom! Dad! W...Where are you?!" Spyro called, ripping his head out of the hallowed tree, breathing frantically as he searched wildly.
"Spyro!"
"Up here, son!"
Spyro looked up at the branches of the tree, his eyes widening with terror as he saw his adoptive parents mended together with the very blood of the bark, their bodies decomposed.
"Spyro! Oh, my boy has come back!" Nina cooed, half of her small face ripped away, most of her body one with the tree.
"Hey, sport! How are you?" Flash inquired, smiling as his gums were decomposed so badly that loose flesh was hanging from his mouth.
"N-no...No!" Spyro screamed, backing up blindly in panic as the fog returned. Slipping on the blood, Spyro got up once again, the bloody water beginning to slosh and ripple. It was then Spyro noticed the ground was beginning to shake-like an earthquake. But it was no earthquake. It was footfalls.
Spyro lost his balance from the force of the earth shaking, the red liquid sloshing wildly like an angry ocean. Panicking in his haste to get up, Spyro breathed is quick puffs, his legs shaking violently. It was then he realized the ground wasn't shaking anymore. The footfalls seemed to have stopped.
The purple dragon almost gagged and vomited as the overwhelming smell of death and decomposition filled the air, the wind moving in a strange pattern.
Looking behind him, Spyro's eyes widened as he saw a massive figure looming over him. He didn't even know how to describe it. It was huge! The beast towered over the small dragon, horns appeared like a massive crown as it's hind talons dug into the red hued earth, powerful front arms flexing in anticipation.
Spyro stared at the beast, the creature breathing deep and heavy as it breathed through its open maw, saliva running from the beasts jowls into the bloodied water.
Spyro could practically hear the powerful muscles in the giant's head move as it peered at the young dragon, its nostrils flaring as it produced a low, guttural growl. But the most horrifying thing about this beast was its eyes. It had many eyes, all focused on the purple dragon. They were all black. Blacker than black. Black enough to pierce through the veil of the fog and allow the dragon to see them clearly.
Spyro couldn't even feel his heartbeat anymore he was so terrified. Those eyes. They were looking through him. Looking into his very being-his life, his love, his fears. Everything.
Suddenly, the beast lunged its head at the purple dragon, his maw wide open as its draconic skull cut through the fog. The last thing Spyro saw was the flash of blood on its thick canines and serrated teeth, his screams echoing throughout the realm.
No, Spyro is not dead. Might have Spyro x OC in later chapters. Not sure when I'll update this, since I've been working on To Make a Dead Heart Beat-which is pretty much the only thing I'm working on. Thank you for reading and supporting!