A/N: Hey guys! Wazzup!

I have finally decided to return to the Spyro community and what the hey, begin a full course SPyro fic. IDK, this is the prologue, s give me advice on where to continue and if you have any ideas give give; i love ideas.

Critizism is good too. I wanna see where i need to work on harder. Errors make you perfect, and if someone notices them that's awesome.

Anyways, please enjoy

Story Telling

Prologue:

It had become a tradition for the two dragons and the rest of the feline community to come together every week, for their tale telling. The entire tradition had started upon the task that had been placed on all being alike to rebuild the world of the future; a task so immortal, and difficult.

There had to be times of peace and rest though, and this was the perfect scapegoat. In the ruins of the torn down dragon city, near what used to be the old forum, they would meet. At times it was just the two young dragons, with the entire feline community of Avalar. Other times Sparx would join, or even the guardians. Even in some rare occasions, the never-resting moles would attend; a clear sign that everyone loved the art and charisma of a story, dragon ancient or laborious rodent alike.

The rules of attending were simple: One, if you have attended at least a single time, you would have to promise to come once more to tell a tale of your own. Two, everyone must listen very attentively at the stories told upon The Rock; a large piece of stone that had fallen from the buildings, that now worked as a perfect podium. Three, the stories told had to be spoken in an understandable manner. Lastly, four, you would have to bring your own torch or candle upon coming; for sakes of visibility.

There they all were, as they sat and carefully listened to each word told. Some would sit in small stools; others would bring chairs and tables of elaborate decorations. Many would just remain on the floor.

There was something that kept them in union though, and that was fire. No matter how fancy or poor one's torch or candle hold would be, they all felt the warmth of the same kind of flame. They all were embraced by the singular color of this light; the light of good. In this reunion of many that thought they where be unalike to their neighbor, by species or ideals, they would break those small barriers; they where all one under the darkness, protected by the justness of light.

This is why Spyro had named their small creation "Souls of the Fire". To the name everyone agreed. It was a just name, and it fit the event of doing this in the darkness. A union kept secret by all its members, from its members, to bring all difference alike.

The two young dragon founders of the group always sat at the front row, upon a soft patch of hay they would set here every night just before the meeting. They would always listen very diligently to the stories told every day; especially the young dragoness, Cynder. Art was one of the aspects of life that most caught her attention. It was incredible to her to see how one's words could paint an image as greatly created as the ancestor's world. Each noun, each detail that was anew caught the former dark dragoness even more.

The tales would vary in all ways imaginable. Some of the stories told would be those well known by the entire common crowd. Ancient stories of legendary warriors that fought for justice would be repeated here, just for the sake of bringing commemoration to these of the past.

Other times, a new story was told. Fictional tales would take all of those who sat into entirely different worlds of green and gray, where a common mole or even a great dragon would fight against all odds to bring righteousness. Some of the story tellers would simply create an exaggerated version of Spyro's tale, and added more everything. The version Spyro was most humored by was when he had been created into this kind of women-wooer hero. Every night he would see a different lady, and with each these nights, the poor dragoness Cynder only fell more love with him. The true Cynder would only chuckle, and shake her head in disapproval. She would blush deeply though, every time Spyro looked at her and grinned with that ever kind smile. The sense of embarrassment within her would only worsen as the tale teller would bring them together, and would make them mates.

She wished for this though, with all her heart and will. Even if she thought Spyro did not feel alike.

Ever since that one day everything had changed for Cynder, and her feelings would now be retained. She had told him those powerful words at what appeared to be the coming of their death; "I love you". Love him she did indeed, loved, and still loves him with all her will. On that day, though, things had not been placed as Cynder thought they would. She had told him those words, but ever since he had not spoken of them. The purple dragon appeared to keep them out of his mind, or act as if he had never heard them in the first place. The black dragoness wondered oh so deeply why this was so. Perhaps he had not truly listened? Maybe he truly just wanted to remain friends with her? She did not know so, but as her mind craved for an answer she came to the most likely one.

Spyro only wished for a friend relationship, she thought. The dragoness would agree to this, true or not, and would keep him as exclusively a friend; a friend she loved with all her body and spirit.

----------------

The tale told on this night was one of comedy. A mole had arrived in this due time of darkness to speak of his misadventure caused by a pure misunderstanding. The young fellow had been kicked out of his own household as he had come too late at night. His wife had become furious, and thought him to be cheating on her. After he was taken out of his own house by several whacks of a miniature broom, the lad had decided to travel out and look for shelter for the night. It was then when only more misfortunes came down on him.

Here the entire crowd sat and laughed at the sad-happenings of this creature. It was a fine thing to do though, as the mole himself chuckled at curse that had fallen upon him. Even the small lad's wife laughed along, stomping down on the floor as she could not resist and hold her upright form anymore. And to believe the only reason he had come late that night was due to the fact that he looked for the perfect gift for his wife. A large beautiful gold necklace with a precious emerald incrusted in the pendant it held. The mole's wife held this token of love dearly now, and wore every day without exception.

As this fellow had finished with his nightly tale Hunter decided to rise from the patterned carpet he sat on, and walked up and onto The Rock. As Hunter fixed the cloak on his back to fit more comfortable, he looked out into the crowd. As Spyro had said it, it was a majestic scene indeed. Here sat over forty beings on a large crater that had been created upon the old forum of the town. Torn pieces of the buildings and other ruins peaked over them, and caused the area to look even more sheltered. It was inevitable not to notice the shine on everyone's eyes as they sat near the fires of the people. Each held a different glitter in their eyes, Spyro had said. Hunter smiled; the dragon was correct indeed.

Any who stood on the podium could see to the deepest core of anyone's soul as they simply stared in the direction. There was nothing more majestic then this.

"Well, that was a wonderfully story of yours there, my friend," the tall feline spoke as he looked towards the mole who had returned to his chair. As the small rodent took a small sip of the warm cider his companion had held for him, he smiled. Hunter smiled in return, and bowed his head slightly. "And indeed you two are still deeply in love."

"In love we are indeed," the mole raised his voice from the crowd, as he softly embraced his wife, and pecked her on the cheek generously. The crowd looked in their direction; some awing, others laughing. The wife of this fellow only embraced the mole in return, and giggled fervently.

Hunter cleared his throat, only to return the crowds attention to him. "Well my fellow companions, as it is far beyond midnight and the stars burn at their full, we will close this night down with a warm goodnight." The feline raised his arms to reach out to the crowd in a warm manner. He smiled as he stared down to his two closest companions; Spyro and Cynder. They looked towards him with optimistic eyes, and smiled once they had noticed they were being recognized.

'If only they were a couple,' Hunter snickered deep in his mind as he noticed the similarities in both of their warm spirits. They had always been very close, but had not yet come to agree that a relationship was in need. Their love for each other was so notorious that anyone with a mild eye-sight could point this out. He figured the only two who could not tell were the dragons themselves.

"As I have said, we will say goodnight now, and will wait for our next meeting; one week from today." He looked about the attentive crowd once more, and bowed in humbleness. "I thank everyone that participated today with my deepest recognition, and hope we can see more of this next time we meet." His gaze was brought again to the dragons near him; he straightened his back as he stared to Spyro. "Now, do you wish to say anything before you go, my friend?" The purple dragon shook his head, but rose to his fours. He turned to the crowd, and bowed in a courteous manner as well.

"I thank anyone who has come here tonight," the purple dragon spoke out in a strong tone. The signs of his adulthood kicking in were revealed in his deepened voice. The dragon was seventeen after all, and he aged in a hastened way. Cynder could not help but to complement how different this new voice of his was. Ever since they broke out from the crystal she could not help but to agree that they had both grown, especially the purple dragon. He looked less like a whelping, and now had the aspects of a leader. He grew fine indeed. "I also pray for you all to have a fine night," Spyro concluded, as his eyes shifted to Cynder. "Have a good night, my companions."

With this the meeting had concluded, and everyone was headed back to their homes in a steady pace. Spyro and Cynder walked back with Hunter in this night, and complemented everything said along the meeting. There was something strange about the situation though; Cynder was not as lively as she had been in previous days.

In fact, she was downright serious. The dragoness was not like she was commonly, but instead she remained in complete silence. There was something in her mind, and that was the task of creating a story.

That was correct; it was finally Cynder's turn to tell a story. She had been pushed into promising a tale by the week that was to come. "By the first week of winter," she had said the summer before. For the dragoness, this was far to soon.

What was she to do?

Please comment.

Thankies!