"…the darkness is not in you: your light is already shining…"

A circular room, solely lit by torches on the wall, shed light on the hooded figure dominating the center of the room. Murmurs could be heard amidst the quiet shuffling of the footsteps as they crossed the cold stone floor to one of the dragons, chained against the wall. As the figure passed by each of the dragons, it gave a small hiss, instilling a tremor of fear into each heart. As it reached the last dragon, it did not hiss, but slowly opened its mouth and began to speak.

"Hemera, you have failed me again."

"I'm sorry, master. I tried to get rid of him –"

"Oh, you tried, did you? You were to dispose of him immediately: a very simple task, is it not?" the figure said in a belligerently condescending tone.

The dragon inwardly shivered with fear as it thought about how to answer. He knew his only chance of escape would be to agree with everything the figure said. "Yes, of course."

"Then…why didn't you?" The figure stepped closer, reaching into its cloak to reveal a small dagger, which it firmly held in its hand.

"He was too strong, master – I mean, he's a purple dragon: he has so much power and –"

"So, a purple dragon means NOTHING! You had orders and you had to fulfill them. You have failed me for the last time, Hemera!"

Hemera was crying profusely, realizing his fate was one of pure doom. He closed his eyes, numbed his senses, trying in vain to block out the sound of his screams as the dagger slit a gash across his neck, the pool of blood congealing all around him. The other dragons looked in horror as the figure turned to look at the rest of them.

Lightning flashed across the sky as their screams mingled with the thunder of the storm.

Spyro woke up from his dream in a cold sweat, inadvertently nudging Cynder. Making sure she was still asleep, Spyro walked across the temple's sleeping chambers into the main room. A huge stone dragon loomed over Spyro, looking down on him with eternal protection and comfort. The yellow eyes glowed periodically in the darkness, belying its seeming lifelessness.

At times, Spyro would sit in front of the dragon and talk to it, inviting it to answer back. But it never did. It was just a statue, and every time Spyro was disappointed that it was always his responsibility to figure out what to do with his problems. He didn't want to be the savior of the world. Why was his destiny already planned out for him? Why couldn't he just be a regular dragon who had a normal family? Why couldn't he have a normal life with seemingly endless moments of romance with the one he loved?

Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered the dream: the figure gliding across the room with ease, lifting the dagger, feeling no remorse for the death of seven dragons chained against the wall, the sounds of Hemera's screams reverberating in his ears…It was all too much to bear.

He went back to the sleeping chambers. Hemera's bright yellow stomach was inflating and deflating periodically, giving away the fact that he was sound asleep.

As I should be, Spyro thought.

Upon reaching his spot, he brought his body next to Cynder's, feeling her body heat melt into his, the two flowing between them as one. He allowed himself a smile as he snuggled up against her. In a few minutes, he was asleep as well. Only the dragon in the temple was awake, its sightless eyes pulsating ever faster.

"Hemera, come back here this instant!" his mother yelled as the battering ram made loud booms resound against the door of the city of Warfang.

"No, mother, I must do this!" Hemera yelled back as he ran into the fray. His yellow scales, with blue underbelly and purple wings, gave away that he was an electricity dragon at first sight. In front of him were a horde of orcs that had wedged their way between the cracks of the doors.

"Hemera, I am your mother. I have to keep you safe!"

"Mother, I'm fine, go and save yourself! It's my destiny to do this!" A small orb of electricity shot out of his mouth and hit the horde of orcs, causing multiple spasms as the shocks ran through their bodies uncontrollably. In a matter of seconds, they were all dead.

"It's my responsibility to keep you alive!" his mother shouted desperately at him. She ducked for cover as an arrow nearly pierced her heart. She was scared to death at the moment, but she allowed herself a tiny amount of joy. Just like his father, she thought. Always willing to help others before helping himself. It's so sad that's going to lead to his death. I must help him. I must let him find a way to escape from this madness, no matter the cost.

Fissures of dark purple-black were running like rivulets through the streets, evidence of Malefor's presence. He had been attacking the city since noon, and the city's forces were dwindling. He was winning, and there was no way to stop him.

But Hemera was ready for anything, even his death. He raced towards the doors, spreading his wings in order to fly over the parapets and find Malefor beyond the city walls. But just as he was about to take off, he heard two things: a bloodcurdling scream that made him stop in his tracks, and the sound of a portal growing wider and wider in front of him. He decided to turn around and see the former.

His mother lay on the ground, an arrow piercing her breast, her breathing ragged and shallow. He ran towards her as memories came like visions in his mind. He tried to resist, but his heart went out to his mother. She was the only family he had, since his father had abandoned him at his birth. And now, to see her dying was too much for him.

When he reached her, he bowed his head and rested it on her body, feeling the warmth of her body grow cold. His head moved back and forth, trying to soothe his mother the pain by knowing that her only son cared about her as much as she had cared for him. She had wanted to protect him, and now he was the one protecting her.

He heard little murmurs, and realized that his mother was speaking in a ragged voice, begging Hemera to listen to what she had to say. It seemed like she was repeating the same thing over and over, as if it was the most important thing to know.

"What is it, Mother?" Hemera choked on his words as his heart raced with the impending sadness upon him.

"The darkness…is not in you. Your light…is…already…shining…" his mother whispered as she sighed her last breath.

The war seemed to freeze. Hemera's mind couldn't comprehend the thought of death, let alone his mother experiencing it. I have to be strong. I can't let my mother see my weakness. But his body wouldn't listen. His legs buckled as he fell to the ground, distraught. Little sobs escaped from him as he wished his mother well: "May the Stream of Life and the River of Death carry you to the Ocean of Eternity in peace." In the utmost respect a dragon could give, he kissed her on the forehead, letting the tears fall, seeing the liquid run down her face, stopping as it entered her mouth. She had died smiling.

Now that the sadness had finally subsided, anger quickly took its place. He knew the cause was Malefor, and the word relentlessly echoed in his mind with a renewed vigor. Revenge boiled up in him as he spread his wings, running, stomping his paws into the ground, as if Malefor's head were there, pounding and pounding and pounding, until he was in the air, breaching the city walls, looking down upon the scene outside.

His eyes quickly scanned for any sign of Malefor, but to no avail: Malefor was letting his minions do his dirty work. He let out a roar from the bottom of his throat, resounding throughout the plain. Arcs of electricity raced through the sky, hitting their marks with deadly accuracy. A ball of electricity surrounded him, growing brighter and brighter, the intensity of his power growing stronger and stronger, finally unleashing it towards the group with the battering ram, scattering them like bowling pins. The orcs were dead before they hit the ground.

He started to feel exhausted. Battle rage left his eyes and his heart stopped trying to escape from his rib cage. He had used so much power he couldn't even flap his wings. As he plummeted to earth, a purple dragon raced to meet him before he hit the ground.

The purple dragon hearing a loud thud on his back to confirm the yellow dragon was safe, he ran towards the portal, the swirling colors inviting him to sleep as the music sang, as ever, about the wonders of eternity.

Hemera let his final torrent of tears flow before succumbing to sleep on the purple dragon's back.