Prologue
Invitation
Wind whipped him around, throwing dust and dirt into his eyes. He could barely see more than silhouettes strewn about. Some were shuttering, some moving quickly, and some lay lifeless in heaps. The smell of ash and char hung in the air, burning his nostrils. Spyro choked on it, feeling it force its way into his lungs. It was impossible, he couldn't do it alone.
"Where is Cynder?" he asked himself, then to the nearest shadow. His only response after a moment of heavy silence was a glint of steel and the sound of wind whistling by a blade.
"Cynder!" Spyro cried, jolting to attention from his bed. It took him a few moments to realize where he was. Dawn was barely breaking through the window, illuminating the charred ash of the logs he'd burned for warmth the night before. Beside him, curled tightly and breathing slowly, was a sleek black dragoness.
The growing morning light gleamed off the steel choker that clung to her neck, her back gently rising and falling with her breath. Spyro took another moment to inspect her before relaxing.
"Thank goodness you're safe, Cynder," he muttered to himself. He slowly stepped off the bed they shared and made his way for the door, being sure to not step on any of the papers strewn about. With each step, the purple dragon swayed his head, peering at the shelves of scrolls and books, then at the trinkets and gem-studded baubles he and his mate had collected on their journeys, then at an empty net that swayed gently with the breeze. It hung like a hammock, only big enough for an insect to lay in. It had been vacant for so long now that Spyro did not let as little as a sigh escape.
He had grown since his first adventure. His horns brushed the top of the doorway to their cottage overlooking the valley of Avalar. Outside, the scars left by the Cleansing were evident – the land was staggered and broken, the river that once flowed so peacefully now twisted and contorted on itself, and the sky was littered with small landmasses floating by on the winds. It was a reminder of the sacrifices that Spyro had made to save the world. Even so, he relished this view. More than a century had transpired, plenty of time for the world's wounds to heal.
A soft flutter of wings approached from behind Spyro, over his home. He turned to greet the falcon on the roof. Its beak was gilded with a sigil shaped much like a dragon's talon – the symbol of Warfang.
"What message do you bring?" Spyro asked, mindful of his mate still sleeping inside.
"From the Dragon Academy in Warfang, sir. The Headmaster requests your presence." The falcon picked at its feathers for a moment and continued, "Also, from the City Watch. The Commander wishes to speak with Cynder. Both parties expect an immediate response."
This wasn't the first time the Headmaster had asked for Spyro's council – he was a hero, after all. His stories and knowledge were integral in shaping the curriculum of the Academy. Cynder being summoned by the Commander of the City Watch, however. That was different.
"Is something the matter in the city?" Spryo asked before the winged messenger could urge for an answer. "The Commander knows how Cynder feels about his offer. He wouldn't send for her again unless there was trouble."
The falcon coughed, scratching its head with a wing. "I shouldn't say this, but…" It then proceeded to tell the purple dragon about recent troubles and gossip, only mentioning after several minutes that both the Headmaster and Commander had fallen deathly ill. "You are to be named Headmaster of the Academy, and Cynder Commander of the Watch. That is why time is of the absolute essence, sir."
Spyro mulled this new information over, peering into his cottage where his mate was beginning to stir, then back out onto the valley he had grown so accustomed to calling home. After a minute of deep thought, he looked back to the falcon and announced, "I will entertain the Headmaster, and do my best to convince Cynder to extend the Commander the same courtesy. Tell them they can expect us by sundown tomorrow at the earliest."
With that, the falcon nodded and took his leave. Spyro went back inside and relayed the message to the still barely awake dragoness.
"Ill?" Cynder yawned, "That never stopped Terraph before."
"It's apparently deadly, whatever he and Chronos caught. I think we should at least pay them a visit, hear what they have to say, and respectfully decline. Surely there are dragons that live in the city that are better suited for such positions."
Cynder took a moment to think. She never was a morning person, so she had to concentrate more. "I guess you're right. After all, we're retired. Plus, I heard that some of the moles built a new fountain plaza. Elora says it's beautiful at night!"
Spyro wrapped a wing around Cynder and chuckled, nuzzling her muzzle. "That settles it, then. We'll head out at first light tomorrow!"