Kwai kwai nidobak! This story is a sequel to Lightning: Abenaki Legacy and Warrior of Spectra's story, The Legend of Spyro: The Forsworn. He and I will be working together to write this story and I hope you readers enjoy it. You should all keep in mind that this story is canon with Warrior of Spectra's series, but it will NOT be canon to the Lightning series, if that makes any sense. I do have a Lightning 4 in mind and it will dismiss anything that happens in this little "crossover." Still, I think me and Warrior of Spectra will have fun writing this and I hope you readers have fun reading it. Remember to leave a review or send me or Warrior of Spectra a PM!
Chapter 1: The Awakening
A heavy snowstorm was bombarding the city of Boston and a light wind whistled through the air. There wasn't a soul in sight however and the city itself was blanketed by a thick sheet of cold snow. The entire area seemed completely lifeless and dead.
Things were different in the subway tunnels under Boston however. Small settlements were just barely getting by and unnatural wildlife roamed the areas where man wouldn't dare venture in. Most settlements were under the rule of men who donned white trench coats and masks. These men and woman ruled the underground settlements with an iron fist while the cold and mutants ruled everything else.
In one of the dark subway tunnels, a man could be seen walking down the train tracks. This person was wearing all black clothes and a gas mask could be seen covering his face. The lenses were customized to resemble angry eyes and the lenses themselves were tinted black to make it nearly impossible to see the man's eyes. A coldsteel tomahawk was also strapped to his belt and an M1911 pistol was in the holster attached to his dark gray bulletproof vest. This man was also carrying a weathered looking AR-15 assault rifle in his hands, which had a flashlight taped onto the barrel.
The flashlight on his weapon was turned on and the masked man kept the rifle at hip height so that he could see a little ways ahead of him within the tunnel. His black boots caused heavy thumps with each step, but other than that, there was dead silence.
The masked man stopped suddenly however when he heard a noise that wasn't his own. He stopped walking and focused on listening to the strange noise. He couldn't tell exactly what it was at first, but he soon realized that it was screaming. It sounded like a woman was screaming.
The man in black suddenly raised his weapon so he could look down the iron sight and he began to walk forward again at a much quicker pace. As he got closer to the sound, he could hear that the same woman who was screaming was also crying between screams. The sounds she was making only stopped when a loud thump noise echoed down the tunnel. And soon enough, the light from a torch could be seen further down the tunnel.
Wanting to see what was going on without being detected, the man with the black gas mask turned off his flashlight and walked at a slower pace to silence his footsteps. Slowly, he got closer and closer to the noises and the torch and he could hear words from the woman.
"Please stop…! Please!" he heard the woman beg.
There was no reply however and the loud thudding noises continued. The masked man finally got close enough to the light so that he could see what was going on. On the train rails was a woman with naturally tanned skin; possibly Mexican or Cuban. Her body was covered in severe cuts and bruises, and the dress she had been wearing were torn to shreds, exposing most of her beaten flesh. The woman lay slumped on the ground with her hands tied behind her back and she kept screaming and begging even as the man in black watched her.
Two men who were wearing white trench coats and a white gas mask was standing over the woman. One of them was holding a bloodstained police baton and he was using it to hit the defenseless woman over and over again without stopping. The other man was resting a double barreled shotgun on his shoulder and resting his freehand in his pocket. Neither of them spoke a word as the man with the baton kept beating the screaming woman.
Slowly, the man in black aimed his AR-15 rifle at the man with the gun's head. He figured that it would be a good idea to shoot the one with the firearm first. With a very light sigh, he squeezed his weapon's trigger just as the first man in white clubbed the defenseless woman again.
The bullet speedily soared through the air and pierced right into the side of the armed man's head, causing a mist of blood to spray out of the other side of his cranium. The man with the baton spun around in surprise to see his companion fall to the ground with a loud thud and he could tell that the other man was dead.
Before the remaining man in white could retaliate, another bullet was fired and it dug it's way right into the man's throat. The man in white dropped his weapon with a clang and covered the gaping wound in his throat with both hands. Another shot rang out from the darkness and the man fell to the ground with a second bullet wound in the side of his skull.
The bound woman cried heavily as she laid almost limp on the ground. The man donning the black mask switched on his flashlight at that point and very slowly walked into the light emitting from the torch. The woman quickly noticed him and did her best to scoot away from him despite her severe wounds shooting pain through her body.
"P-please… don't hurt me…" she begged shakily as he lowered his rifle with one hand and took out his tomahawk in his freehand.
Without saying a word, the man went down on one knee and began to cut away her bonds with his tomahawk's blade. The woman was so surprised by this that she stared at him with wide, brown eyes. She then began to gently rub her sore wrists, which had rope burns surrounding them.
The man in black then sheathed his tomahawk and stood up. He then offered his hand to help her up. The woman felt tears of gratitude come to her eyes and she reached out to grasp his hand.
Moments before their hands connected however, a line of spider webs shot out of the darkness and stuck to the woman's hand. Her eyes widened again and she screamed as he was forcibly yanked into the dark tunnel.
The man's eyes widened behind his mask's lenses and he raised his rifle to try to shoot whatever had taken the woman, but a dog-sized spider quickly leapt out of the darkness and towards him. He let out a loud grunt as he was forced to the ground and he looked up to see that spider's pincers preparing to bite into his neck…
Tamhigan woke up with a gasp and he bolted out of his sleeping pillow. He panted heavily as his dark brown eyes darted around, but he slowly began to relax when he noticed that he was in his room within Valo's house. He frowned heavily as he sat down on his sleeping pillow and gently rested his biomechanical paw on his forehead.
It seemed like every night he had a nightmare about his past. Everything he saw in those dreams were real events that he experienced and he hated it every time he had to sleep because he knew he'd have a nightmare.
The black dragon slowly stood up after awhile and walked out of his room. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but his metal paw always clicked when it hit the hard wooden floor. Even still, he did his best to be quiet.
When Tamhigan reached the children's room, he very slowly opened the door just enough so he could peek in. He could see Tabaldak, Managuen, and Dusk all sleeping in their individual sleeping pillows and they were cuddled up to their warm blankets.
Now that he knew that they were okay, the post-apocalyptic dragon gently closed the door again and made his way to the front door. Without a second thought, he opened the door and made his way outside. It was still the raining season in the area around Portum and it was pouring out, but he didn't really care about getting wet. He just wanted to go for a walk. And that's exactly what he did. Tamhigan slowly lowered his head and began to walk towards the forest outside of town, hoping ot get some peaceful time to himself.
Eden: The Ruins of The First World.
Scott Tyler landed on the ash covered desert with a low thump, one of his platinum colored long swords held in his left hand and a mechanical silver colored pistol with a dim light bluish-green glue running down the barrel in the other hand.
As the nineteen year old in all black stood up, the massive body of a Dragon, that once stood as tall as a ten story building, fell onto the deserted ash filled wasteland floor. It's stone and ash made head severed from the rest of it's stone body, the violet glow of it's eyes slowly dimming as it died.
Scott, a nineteen year old human with a pale complexion, brown hair and dark brown eyes, spun around to face the corpse of the demon he had just killed.
The corpse of the Arch-Dragon slowly began to dissolve into ash, in a mere three seconds, the once tall beast's corpse vanished, leaving behind only the rocks that made up it's body. Scott released a sigh as he proceeded to sheathed his blade and holstered his pistol on the silver belt around his waist and a holster located on his right pant leg. The boy proceeded to dust off the ash that had gotten onto his black vest, tank top, jeans and bare arms.
Running up his left arm was a burn mark, taking the form of a Dragoness that extended from his shoulder down to his wrist.
As the nineteen year old human finished dusting the dust off of him, he proceeded to look at his surroundings once more…seeing the black cloudy sky that occasionally filled up with crimson lightning. The rest of his surroundings were dead…only an ashy wasteland that went on for miles.
The boy scratched the back of his head and sighed as he proceeded to trudge through the two foot high ash covered ground.
As the boy trudged through the wasteland, he occasionally felt resistance from the occasional wind that would kick up ash. Scott proceeded to pull the hood of his vest up, a black scarf and pulled out a pair of black tinted goggles, an attempt to keep the ash from stinging his eyes or filling his nostrils and mouth.
He had been travelling through this wasteland for days now…and so far nothing had changed. If it wasn't for his compass, he would not be able to tell which way was North. Even now he doubted if his compass was right.
But luckily for the young man, memory was his guide.
But memory was a painful thing, especially when the wasteland you were travelling in was your home.
To Scott…it had been many years since he had last stepped foot on this ground…one hundred thousand years ago, this place was filled with healthy trees, grass and a lake that once rested near his Tribe's village…
Yet, he had not aged a second since that fateful day: The day of Eden's Death.
The day that he his surviving friends and family, were scattered across Time and Space. It was through the mercy of The Goddess Spectra that they survived. Unfortunately, not everyone had been fortunate. When the Sea of Discord broke through Spectra's Gate, the Discord swept away many people to different worlds and time periods…but the Discord also killed many people…and turned the unfortunate humans and wild life of Eden into monstrosities.
Scott's thoughts were interrupted when something caught his sight as he trudged over an ash dune…the hint of a smirk crossed Scott's lips as he looked out at the horizon.
A few yards away was a camp…a military encampment. Surrounding the camp were several small barricades that served as cover for the soldiers in the camp. Several tents were set up and were positioned at the face of a cave…
Scott kneeled down and tapped the side of his goggles. Suddenly, from behind the black lens, the magnification of his goggles was intensified, allowing him to see closer.
He saw thirteen men…all wearing full body armor, dark black in color with silver markings. On the right shoulder guards of the armor was a Silver Dragoness insignia, much different and evil looking than the golden dragoness insignia sown onto the back of Scott's vest, and a golden Dragon insignia on the left shoulder guard.
The golden dragon and the silver dragoness were the symbols of The Forsworn's patron Dragon-Gods, the infamous Dragon-Gods of Fate…
Scott stood up and drew both his longsword in both hands, and held up his right hand, extending his index finger. Suddenly, the ash around him began to shift. Scott quickly pushed both of his arms backwards. Then, in a burst of speed, Scott began to slide forward, the ash around his feet pushing him forward.
In a matter of seconds, Scott began to close distance between him and the camp.
The moment the guards saw Scott approaching, was when he reached the barricade.
One guard, wielding an Assault rifle with crimson glow running down the barrel, saw Scott first and was about to call out to his comrades…until a pillar of ash rose up into the air, catapulting Scott up and over the barricade. As Scott flew up into the air, all of the guards started to shoot at him; red bolts of plasma flew through the air, missing Scott.
As Scott landed in the middle of the camp, a shockwave of fire surrounded him, and knocked the soldiers off of their feet, hitting the ground loudly.
The two soldiers that recovered first raised their weapons at the young warrior, but were too late as Scott had rushed forward and lashed out with his long swords, beheading one and impaling the other in the chest, his blade piercing the armor as if it were made of glass.
As the bodies of the soldiers fell to the ground, staining the pale ash crimson, the other soldiers opened fire on Scott, who was now running across the camp, moving almost like a shadow. As he approached his next target, Scott twirled his swords once which now radiated blue electricity. Scott slashed his right sword at the soldier, electrifying the soldier to death without the blade even piercing the armor.
In a matter of three minutes, Scott had killed all but one of the soldiers, whose bodies lay on the ground, dispatched by Scott's swords. The last soldier now crawled away from Scott, a whimpering noise coming from behind his helmet.
The soldier looked passed his glowing red lenses as Scott walked up to him, swords extended. The soldier pulled out a pistol, and fired a shot, only for the plasma bolt to hit a "rogue" object. When the object hit the ground, the soldier realized that it had been…a stone?
The last sight the soldier saw was Scott's left sword impaling his chest, causing the soldier to die instantly.
Scott sheathed both swords, and turned his direction to the cave opening in the mountain that the camp was built around.
Scott proceeded to step into the cave, activating his goggle's night vision mode, giving him limited vision from behind his goggles as he stepped into the dark cave.
He walked for three minutes, which then he began to hear the sound of metal hitting against metal. Scott tilted his head. As the tunnel curved to the right, Scott saw the light of a flash light ahead, with a man hacking away with a kinetic Pick axe at a metal door.
When Scott was a foot from the man, he placed a hand over his shoulder.
The man yelped in surprise, dropping the pick axe, which the red glow ceased when the man's hands stopped pulling the trigger, and bowed to his knees, placing his hands behind his head.
"I swear! I'm working as best as I can captain! Please! Just…give me more time!" The man sounded as though he was in his late fifties…and he was terrified.
"I'm not with The Forsworn." Scott said his tone emotionless but held sympathy.
The man slowly turned around as Scott pushed back his hood, pulled down his scarf and pulled up his goggles, revealing his face. The man, not recognizing Scott, appeared relieved.
"Oh thank the Goddess…" The man said, collapsing to the ground, rubbing his eyes. Judging on his ragged clothing…he had been a prisoner for a long time.
The man looked up at Scott as he stepped closer into the light. The man perked up when he recognized Scott's face.
"Wait…you are…you're the boy in the wolf hood!" The man said excitedly.
Scott nodded.
"I used to be."
"I remember that day…99,996 years ago…" The man continued.
"What's this door?" Scott asked.
The man nodded, looking to the metal door, which Scott now noticed was gold in color…with five dull, grey, gems embedded into them.
"I don't know…fifty years ago the Forsworn came to me…stole me from my wife and child…and demanded I use my tools to crack the door open." The man said. "The problem with our current state…we can't age…but I could feel the decades pass…I'm a kinetic tool expert…but not even I could break this…not even a scratch."
"This door is harder than diamond." Scott said, approaching the door, touching it's cold metal design. "Not even your best tools, nor my weapon, Omega, could cut through it…forged by Spectral Ore…"
"That powerful…" The man muttered.
Scott turned to the man, and slowly pulled out a small circular disk like device from his pocket and handed it to the man.
"Press the center when you're outside…my friends will find you."
The man nodded and bowed his head as he stood.
"Oh thank you! Goddess bless your heart!" The man said, running out of the tunnel…free for the first time in decades.
Scott slowly turned his attention to the door and furrowed his brows.
"Tell me…what secrets do you hold?"
The Dragon Realms: Warfang, Capitol of the Empire.
"That is quite the story." The hat wearing Fear Dragon, Mentem, said while taking a sip from his drink.
In one of the seafood restaurants in the Historical District of Warfang, the Purple Dragon, Spyro, his ebony scaled mate, Cynder, and their friends: Blaze, Tula, Mentem, and Electra sat around one of the outside tables, listening to Spyro as he spoke to his friends about his talk with the human, Marcus, a day ago.
"That's what he told me." Spyro said to his friends. "The Order of Spectra themselves sent Marcus to meet with me…they need my help finding this one dragon."
"But seriously…" Electra, a young talkative Electric dragoness with yellow scales, said as he finished eating her salmon. "You have to admit it's odd…why come now? You guys just beat Oculos and Persephone and their Forsworn…shouldn't that be enough?"
The other dragons paused, their thoughts going back to the day before when they battled Persephone's, the immortal Dragon-Goddess of The Underworld and leader of The Forsworn, mate Oculos, a grey dragon who could control anyone's luck by merely looking at them, who served as Persephone's second in command and became the Avatar of The God of Death. A deity that desired nothing more than to wipe out all life in the Dragon Realms.
"Doubt with how large Persephone's army is that their defeat would cause much of a sting." Tula, a young water dragoness and the youngest daughter of The Water Guardian Typhoon, said. "I mean, The Forsworn was believed to be destroyed years ago…" Tula glanced at her boyfriend, Blaze, a fire dragon, as he visibly pondered.
"Well…either way," Cynder said, looking at Spyro. "What's your answer going to be?"
"I'll help him." Spyro said, taking a gulp from his water. "But first…I just want to be with my mom. This is the first time I've ever seen her…"
"Understandable." Mentem said, adjusting his tricorn hat. A smirk crossed his lips. "So…should I start calling you Prince Spyro now? I mean, your mother is EMPRESS Emera…Dragon-Goddess of the afterlife or not, she still formed the Empire. That makes you a prince."
"Please don't start calling me 'prince'…" Spyro sighed, rubbing his temples.
This earned a laugh from the others.
Spyro smiled lightly. This was the first time in a while since he and his friends could just relax…he enjoyed it very much. But he realized that at any time, this peace could be ruined.
