Note: I wrote this during a difficult time of my life, in the latter half of 2015, when I myself was fighting my inner demons and searching for my identity. This story was, in part, an outlet I used to help me sort through my thoughts, hence my hesitance to post it; in the end, I decided, as always, to post it anyway, in the hopes that that one person who might enjoy it would find it. Do be forewarned, however, that this is roughly written, and very abrupt and inconsistent in places, as a result of the circumstances under which it was written.
Cynder was restless.
In the wake of Malefor's final defeat, the whole world was in what seemed like a permanent state of celebration. The oldest foe the world had ever known was gone forever, and the ancient dragons were going to return to the world, peace and the natural order of things were restored and an age of prosperity was ahead. All thanks to Spyro and Cynder.
I don't deserve this.
She didn't deserve the hero-worship nearly every single person she met showed for her. Even Spyro's personal friends, though she could tell they were trying to treat her as one of them, just felt distant to her. She didn't know any of them like they knew each other…but more than that, they didn't know her, either. No one did, though everyone praised her. Even she herself didn't really know who she was. Who she wasn't was no longer up for debate - she was a dragon, not Malefor's servant - but besides that? Watching Spyro interact with his friends, she saw something she had never had, would never have. Dark thoughts haunted her at night, questions and possible answers chasing each other around in her head, until sometimes it felt like her brain was about to burst out through the pattern on her forehead, which became sore and throbbing.
Hunter and Bianca tied the knot, everyone around was finding new life and settling where they wanted to be; she should have been the same, with Spyro, but it all felt so far away. Even the soothing power of her amulet gave her little peace. Days and nights passed without her even noticing all that much, as she went through the motions and acted as she knew she was expected to without even really meaning them; she just felt so empty.
I'm missing something.
At last, one night, Cynder couldn't hold it in anymore, couldn't wait and suffer in silence. Once she and Spyro were home alone and settled in, she decided to talk to him.
"Spyro." She wasn't sure what else to say.
But she didn't need to. Spyro turned to her, concern in his eyes. "What is it, Cynder?" he asked.
"I…" Cynder shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think…" What was it, anyway?
The young purple dragon stood and walked over to her. "I know something's been bothering you," he told her. "I didn't want to pry, but…I was hoping you'd tell me what's wrong, by your own choice."
"I don't know what's wrong," she confessed, looking at the floor as her green eyes started to sting. "I don't…"
"Cynder." A comforting touch along the side of her neck both soothed her and made her want to cry even more. Unable to bear it, she opened her mouth and spoke the first thing that came to mind:
"I have to leave."
"What do you mean?" Spyro asked, alarmed.
"I can't live like this," she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth the moment she realized them. "I have to go…somewhere, somewhere else, anywhere else, until I know who I am. I can't find myself when everyone around me already thinks they know me and want to tell me who to be - even you, Spyro," she blurted, meeting his eyes. "You think you know who I am, you look at me like you know me and believe in me, but who am I? I don't know anything about being a person! All I've ever known is fighting - fighting for Malefor, fighting against Malefor, I've never done anything else! You…" Her voice cracked. "You've had a chance to grow up, to be a kid with a family and friends and mature into who you are - you've had two chances, two lifetimes with normal beginnings. I haven't even had one."
Spyro said nothing for a minute, looking at her with wisdom more appropriate for the age of his soul than his current body. "I didn't know you still felt that way," he said softly. "You tried to leave once before, remember? After I freed you. You said your place was somewhere out there for you to find, that you didn't belong with us."
"I know I belong here," Cynder said. "I belong wherever you are, Spyro. But…right now, I can't be here. I have to…live, I guess. I have to live until I know who I am. I'll come back!" she assured him. "I will come back, someday, I promise. But right now, I need to go."
"Right now?" Spyro repeated. "Cynder, can't you stay a little while and get ready? If you're going to be gone a long time, you'll need-"
"I can take care of myself," Cynder interrupted, more harshly than she meant to. She took a calming breath, then looked into Spyro's eyes and said, "I don't need any supplies or preparations, I can manage - I've been in the wild for a while before, fighting and fighting and…" She shook her head. "I just need to go. And you'll always find some reason for me to stay a bit longer, and I'll always want to agree…I need to do this now, or I might never. Please, Spyro, don't try to stop me."
For a moment, he was silent. Then he sighed and said, "Okay, I won't. I hope you find what you're looking for, Cynder."
"Me too," she said. "I…I love you."
"I love you too." They embraced each other with their wings, enjoying this one last moment of closeness, to remember and cherish during her journey. Cynder was the first to break away.
"Goodbye, Spyro," she whispered.
"Goodbye," he replied in kind.
Then she turned around, leapt through a window, spread her crimson wings, and took to the night sky, her silhouette slowly shrinking into nothingness in front of the bright white moon.
