Ok this is my first fan fiction ever. please read and review.
Chapter one.
Dragon realms: three years after the defeat of the dark master.
Spyro looked out over the valley of Avalar, the golden sun was setting in a blaze of red behind the waterfall. He had come to this spot as often as he could to enjoy the peace after the fall of Malfor. Spyro sat there thinking, of nothing in particular, when a movement to his left caught his eye; it was Cynder the one dragon that meant the world to him, getting up from a short nap. She stretched and stood up lazily, looking around. She walked over and sat down next to him.
"Hey welcome back to the world of the living." Spyro joked.
"What did I miss?" she said.
"Nothing much I was just watching the sun set and thinking"
"About what" she asked.
"Oh a few things, like how it's so peaceful, when Sparks is going to show up to change that, and how beautiful you look when you're asleep." He grinned.
"Spyro are you trying to flatter me?"
"That depends is it working?"
"Not really"
"Didn't think so"
The sun had gone down and Spyro noticed some dark clouds in the east and he heard the distant rumble of thunder.
"Well I think we better head back, those clouds seem like there moving pretty fast." He said.
"Yeah and I don't like the looks of them either." Cynder said
They got up and took off back for Warfang; they talked about a few things but mostly just enjoyed each others presence.
By the time they reached there rooms the rain had started. By midnight the storm was raging with an almost supernatural ferocity. Thunder rattled the windows of the dragon city and in the surrounding forest powerful lightning strikes started small fires that were only to be extinguished by the pouring rain. Cynder spent the night awake listening to the anger of the storm, some where out in the night she though she heard laughing, a maniacal and insane laugh. She pushed it out of her mind.
"It's just your imagination running away with you again." she thought.
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Midnight: Dragon Realms.
In the midst of the storm a large and extremely bright lighting strike hit the top of a tall peak; the lightning had an odd color to it and it left a deep smoking crater in the mountain. From the depths of the crater issued a loud laugh, a laugh of grim triumph, it rose in intensity with the storm until it was twisted in to a mad and evil cackle.
"It Begins" a deep voice boomed.
The laughing then resumed with new vigor.
End.