It had barely been a day since Spyro, Cynder, and I had awoken from our prolonged slumber, and I felt worse than I had when I first opened my eyes. I was so weak that I could hardly stand, and moving even slightly left my sore limbs aching long after.
"Feeling better, Spyro? And you, Crystal?"
I looked up at Ignitus and shook my head, too weak to even form words. Sighing, I turned my gaze back to the stone floor.
Spyro answered, "Not really, Ignitus. That battle drained every last bit of my strength. I can hardly lift my head." He was as weak as I was, his voice just barely cracking.
"Yes, it will take time for your powers to return..." Ignitus began. At that, I had to hold back another sigh. "But they will in time, young dragons. They will in time."
Not soon enough, I thought to myself, eyes running along the spiderweb cracks in the stone floor as my concentration on them increased. How would I go on without my elements, even for a short time? Without them, I didn't even feel like I was alive. I told myself I did fine for years without them, but that didn't cheer me up much.
Ignitus, unaware of my stormy mood, turned to Cynder. "Cynder, ever since I failed the night of the raid, I've dreamt of this day."
Cynder only blinked in acknowledgment. She hadn't said anything since she'd woken up, only stared silently at the floor—which was exactly what I was doing now, I noticed. I glanced at Cynder briefly, who was still looking up at the Guardians. She didn't need to say anything; the look in her eyes said it all.
"It's not just you, Ignitus. We all failed," Volteer said. Cyril and Terrador nodded in agreement.
"Be that as it may," Ignitus said, rising back up from Cynder's eye-level, "we're together again now, thanks to Spyro and Crystal. Well done, young dragons."
I allowed a brief smile of appreciation flicker across my face, but still I remained silent. What was I supposed to say?
Something began to tug at the edge of my mind, causing the small smile to disappear, and Spyro put voice to my concern. "Thanks, Ignitus. But we still don't know what happened to the Dark Master."
"No matter, Spyro. There will be time to talk of the Dark Master later. Now it's time to be grateful for your success!" Terrador exclaimed.
"Their success?" Sparx asked, barging into the conversation. "Hey, but what about me? Just because a bunch of weird stuff doesn't fly out of my mouth doesn't mean I didn't help you none." Sparx crossed his arms.
"Yeah, you were a—a big help, Sparx, no doubt about it," Spyro said quickly, stumbling over the words in his attempt to keep Sparx from getting angry. He apparently couldn't resist tacking on another sentence, though. "But... just for the record, a lot of weird stuff does come out of that little mouth of yours."
"And what the heck is that supposed to mean?!" Sparx snapped, glaring at Spyro, but his attention soon whipped to others in the room. "You know, I don't need this. I could have stayed with the..." Sparx paused and flew over to Cyril. "Llama people... Whatever, where I was appreciated, but no." He flew up to Terrador, pointing an accusing golden finger at his forest green snout. "No, I decided to help the poor helpless dragons rid the world of evil. What a mistake that was."
I shot a glare at Sparx, but he either didn't see it or ignored me completely and continued on with his rant. I sighed and gave up, knowing there was no stopping him now. Another smile twitched at the corners of my mouth and I couldn't help but laugh.
Spyro and I looked back at Cynder, who met us with a blank, yet slightly amused stare. I gave her a lighthearted "this is what we have to deal with every day" look and turned back to Sparx, who was still complaining.
"—because I get no thanks. No respect, no love, no credit," Sparx was huffing, flying irately about the room.
"My goodness. And I thought Volteer talked a lot!" Ignitus exclaimed, much to the electric Guardian's mortification, but Sparx again ignored him.
"I left home too, ya know. I'm a little guy; yeah, that's right. Maybe you haven't noticed. Things are a lot bigger to me than they are to you," he continued.
I grew somber at this statement, remembering that first night away from home when the world seemed to grow before my eyes, leaving me a miniscule speck within its greatness. But as I became more powerful, the large world shrunk and then my small world became even smaller. But this—all of this—brought me back to reality. It reminded me that I was not on top of the world, that I could shatter at the smallest force. And then I'd only be a few shards of glass on the floor, forgotten.
Remember what Terrador said. This isn't the time to be gloomy and frightened, it's the time to be grateful, I told myself, allowing the dark thoughts to dissipate. A part of me, though, didn't want to listen.
"And did I back away?" Sparx continued. "Uh-uh. Nah, nah, nah. Why? 'Cause I got moxy. I'm a tough cookie. I got class. I—" Sparx cleared his throat. I looked at him strangely. Was he tearing up? "I've got a little frog in my throat. As I was saying, in Tall Plains they knew a good thing when they saw it; they recognized the value of a quality dragonfly like me. But here I get nothing! Not even a thanks, 'Hey, how ya doin'? Let me buy you a drink'."
The Guardians were staring in stupefied silence at Sparx, and I couldn't help but shoot him another odd look as well. But Sparx still continued despite our bemused stares.
"I should go back to the Swamp. Mom will make it all good. Mommy always does." Sparx finally teared up here and floated meekly over to me, out of the spotlight.
I sighed and shook my head. I knew, in a way, he was right. Sparx was more of a help than he'd ever know.
~~...~~
It was a true summer night; hot, and not a single gust of wind swept over the land. The stars that ran unhindered over the sky like wildflowers in a field shone with all their might and main and the two moons were only halfway illuminated, causing the night to be a little darker and all the more mysterious. But everybody in the world was asleep and unable to gaze upon the night's terrible beauty—all except one.
I'd been sitting in the pool room for hours. My eyes were closed but I was unable to sleep. Finally, tired and frustrated, I'd stood up and looked around carefully; I had been nestled into the side of the Pool of Visions, the place I'd assumed as my favourite sleeping spot. I stared into the depths of the shimmering purple liquid as Ignitus did when he was looking for a vision, but I only saw the blurry reflection of a girl who was not me.
Turning away, I padded over to the door that led to the training room. It silently slid open on my approach, but before stepping through, I glanced black. Spyro was asleep near the wall, but he stirred as if beginning to wake up. Not paying any attention, I walked forward and the door closed behind me.
I stared up at the statue of the unknown dragon and he stared back, the eyes that pulsated with yellow light seeming to look right at me. The dim light streaming in from the skylight cast a strange shine on him and made the statue look almost frightening. I felt eerie whenever I was in the room at night...
Silently, I continued on, though I felt as if the statue was watching my every move. I took a deep breath when the doors to the balcony opened; though it was hot and thick, the fresh air was reviving.
I knew I should have been asleep, but something was pulling me out here, like the tug that had once brought me to the snake skeleton in the Swamp. Was it really only barely a week ago that I had set out on this life-changing adventure? I'd been a completely different person then... So what was I now?
The sound of familiar footsteps behind me signified Spyro's presence. We only glanced at each other as he walked up beside me before we turned our gazes to the stars. They sparkled the way the river did when it caught the sunlight and, dancing with glee, carried it on forevermore.
"See anything?" I didn't know Cynder was there until she spoke and walked up beside Spyro and me. It was the first thing she had said to either of us—or anyone, for that matter.
I stared back up at the sky, focusing on the brightest star of them all. What did she expect us to see? That star wasn't the Dark Master, and he wasn't going to fall out of the sky and come right at us. But he was out there waiting. Somehow, I knew he was waiting.
Spyro was the only one who had the words to reply. "No. But I've got a bad feeling."
Cynder said nothing at first. Her eyes were studded with the millions of stars' reflection. "Me too."
~~...~~
I felt as if I was standing on a beach as dark storm clouds began to gather on the horizon and leak into the perfect blue sky, marring its beauty. Below my paws were the sands of time and before me was the ocean that was the passing of it. Every time the waves broke the shore, the clouds seemed to come closer and closer and a few grains of golden sand were carried away. I never saw them again.
And such, a week passed, a week full of uncertainty. The Dark Master was the only thing on my mind at first, and I worried and stressed until I could see Convexity collapsing around me whenever I closed my eyes. But gradually, as the days passed and nothing tried to attack us, I began to let the fear slip. And then, I naively thought, What if he didn't escape at all?
If he was out, couldn't he have come after us by now? Or wouldn't he at least send Soldiers? One day, I guided myself to the edge of the Temple grounds where the forest began. Cautiously, I peered into it, just waiting for something to attack, but it never did. There was no ambush, nobody secretly watching us and waiting for just the right time. We were safe. Or so I thought.
I wasn't the only one who let my guard down. Though everybody was still tense as if they expected a battle to happen at any moment, it seemed like we all believed there was, for now, nothing to be afraid of.
At first, Cynder still said nothing. I don't think she needed to, really. But Spyro and I still tried to coax her to speak, and eventually she did; one word at first, only a yes or a no, always staring at the ground as she said it. Sometimes it made me want to scream, "Why are you afraid of me?" But I knew it wasn't fear I saw in the unwavering eyes.
Cynder had a sense of distrust about her, and (though I tried to be patient) it aggravated me more than the silence. I didn't want to hurt her anymore. I just wanted to give her something I felt she'd never had before, a friend. And by the turn of the first week, and think she realized that Spyro and I weren't her enemies. She didn't ever express this in words. I knew because when I passed her, I always smiled, but all I ever received in return was a blank stare. One day, for the first time, she smiled faintly back. And though it was gone as soon as it had come, it was all I needed.
Now, Spyro, Cynder, and I were down in the courtyard. Sparx, grumbling that he didn't "want to be around her", had gone inside. No matter how many death glares I shot him, he refused to stop. But Cynder didn't seem to mind his insults and avoidance, so I let it be.
My strength had begun to return now, but I was weak, weaker than I could ever remember being. It would take weeks to recover, and I couldn't even begin to think of my elements returning. Every drop of magic, I felt, had been sapped from me until there was no connection left. And to add on to that, there was absolutely nothing I could do. There wasn't anything to fight at the moment, no threat to put down, and yet I could not go home. The only thing I could do was wait. I hated it, the waiting around and that useless feeling, creeping up on me and leaving me feeling frustrated.
Although it may have been foolish, I allowed my fears to slip away. The dark clouds kept their distance, and they afforded me enough time to just forget, if only for a little while. So, Spyro and I were playing tag in the courtyard. The game reminded me of a place that seemed a lifetime away. Home. How I longed for it.
But the sun's merry light seemed to fall on the swamp in the same sort of way it did at home. It wasn't exactly the same, you know, because I knew the Temple was just around the corner, and besides that, it just didn't feel quite right. Everything was different—the little passages, winding trails, and great clearings that dotted the area around my home I knew by heart, but here they were all unfamiliar. Still, I knew I was close to home, and soon, very soon, I would return. That was enough for me.
I laughed as I ran about the small clearing, in hot pursuit of Spyro. We were playing tag—yet another thing that came from a place that seemed so far away. Cynder watched us curiously, eyes darting back and forth as we galloped from one end of the area to the other, every cry of "You're it!" seeming only to confuse her more.
"What are you doing?" she finally asked, one eyeridge raised.
Skidding to a stop and nearly out of breath, I replied, "Playing tag."
"Tag?"
"It's a game," Spyro explained, stepping up beside me. "Somebody's "it", and they have to chase the others around. Whenever the person who's it touches somebody else, that person takes his place."
"Why do you do that, though? What's the point?"
"Well, it's fun," I said.
"Fun?" Cynder echoed. "What's... fun?"
I stared at her incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"
Has she really never had fun before? I wondered. Cynder only blinked emerald eyes that showed nothing but confusion, matching my stare with one of her own. I then remembered. Of course not. Whatever the Dark Master had done to her, I doubt he'd have encouraged that she played games, even if she'd had any companions to grow up with...
"Fun is... things you enjoy doing," I said, trying to explain. Feeling as if I'd failed in that respect, I went on. "You just do things, like playing tag, and it makes you happy. That's what fun is."
"Oh," Cynder said simply, staring at us with even more bemusement than before.
It didn't seem like she knew at all what I was talking about. How was I supposed to get her to understand? I wondered for a few moments, but then it suddenly hit me. A smile lit up my face. "Why don't you play with us? We can have a tag team if I can get Sparx down here. Spyro and Sparx will both be it, and we have to run."
Cynder was reluctant. "I don't know..." she said, unsure.
"Come on, Cynder, it'll be fun," Spyro said, smiling too and emphasizing the final word.
Cynder looked between the two of us haltingly. I thought perhaps she would say no, but she relented. "Alright, I'll try."
Beaming, I ran off. Finally, I'd taken the first step towards befriending her. She needed a friend, I knew; I could tell she'd never had one before. Spyro and I just wanted to change that.
Somehow, I managed to convince Sparx to play tag with us, though he didn't come down without a few complaints. He silenced after I threatened to smack him into the wall. "It's just one game, Sparx," I said with irritated exasperation. "After it's done, you can come back up here and hide." In response, Sparx glared at me, but still said nothing.
And so we aligned ourselves in the middle of the field. Cynder and I stood on one side and opposite us were Spyro and Sparx, the latter with his arms crossed, as he was still unhappy at being forced into this. Spyro and Sparx retreated to count.
"Why are they—" Cynder began.
"Run! Now!" I exclaimed, bolting off through the small passage that led farther from the Temple and into the swamp.
Cynder followed, keeping a steady pace beside me as we scrambled over roots and dodged the small, ever-prevalent mushrooms that grew wildly over the ground. Finally, we came to a halt behind the thick stem of a tall mushroom. I was nearly out of breath (we'd been running for quite a few minutes), but Cynder didn't even seem fazed. I couldn't help but be impressed with her endurance; while I'd been pushing myself to absolute maximum speed, huffing and puffing as I ran, she'd followed at exactly the same pace without any trouble at all.
"Why did we stop running?" she inquired.
"Because we can hide," I explained. "We'll save energy if we only run when they're nearby."
Presently, Spyro and Sparx wandered into the clearing where the proceeded to yell that they knew we were here and search the area. As they drew closer to our hiding place, I began to get antsy. If we ran now, they'd surely catch us, but I hated to wait.
I'd never liked waiting in any of its forms. I knew I could be too impulsive, but the only thing that mattered to me was getting out there. Sometimes it was like I was being chased and I felt that if I hesitated, even just for a second, I would be captured. So I just ran, and I never stopped running no matter what. This reflected in the game soon enough, because after a few seconds, I ran out of patience.
"Run, now!" I yelled, taking Cynder off-guard. We dashed forward, past the surprised Spyro and Sparx. The former, rushing forward, nearly tagged me—but as I noticed him at the last moment, I managed to duck under his playful swipe, laughing.
Cynder was much faster than I was; she was always one bound ahead and I began to lag behind, nearly out of breath. But I didn't give up; they were right behind us and I couldn't stop now.
As we ran, Cynder' face broke into a quizzical smile and she laughed. "This is... fun!" she exclaimed, and her voice held no doubt.
Still laughing, I cried, "Follow me! Up here!"
Taking a sharp turn, we raced up a hill and continued on from there, rounding narrow bends and traversing the rough terrain. We'd far from shaken Spyro and Sparx; though neither of them were as quick as we were, they were persistent and refused to give up. I don't believe I'd ever played a game of tag that stretched out for so long—or that had been so much fun.
The path that we had proceeded to follow was a long and twisting passageway that sprawled over a vast array of environments; little passages, vast clearings, even destroyed parts of the Temple that sat alone and broken among the mushrooms. We tried to avoid the latter, as we had been warned away from there and were told it was too dangerous. But eventually, we reached the end of this path; it wrapped around the Temple and ended on a cliff just a short glide away from the balcony. The arduous chase was about to end.
Cynder and I, nearly out of breath—not so much as from the running than laughter—almost ran right off the edge of the cliff. Luckily, we both caught ourselves just in time and immediately hopped into the air. Spyro and Sparx were just behind us; they'd never ceased the chase, even for a moment.
Though I was a talented flier, by that point I was nearly depleted of strength and Sparx, who never seemed to get tired, found it no hard task to tag me. With only a groan of, "Darn it!" I retreated to the balcony.
Cynder wasn't quite as easy to catch. It nearly seemed as if she were a part of the wind, as she coasted on it with such ease, and it carried her to safety many times. But eventually, Spyro, with another rush forward, managed to tap her arm before she could get away.
Although we normally might have switched sides and went on, the game ended then; we were all too exhausted to play tag anymore. Besides, sundown was beginning and it wouldn't be long until darkness shrouded the land. But I was content, and very suddenly happier than I'd been in a long time.
"Tag team sometime?" I asked Cynder, almost beaming.
"Anytime," was the reply, and she smiled. It was the most real smile I'd ever seen, because wasn't dampened by any past conflicts or terrible memories—it was just her.
Time passed in silence, and I could sense a sort of amiability among us all, and at least a begrudging tolerance on Sparx's end. That was more than he'd given Cynder these past few days, so I was satisfied with that. Soon, stars began to pepper the sky, and for once their shine didn't seem to frighten me with whispers of impending doom or the Dark Master's return or that terrible, horrible waiting. No, now—at least for the moment—they shone only with hope.
Cynder spoke, but her voice was so quiet that I nearly missed the words. "Thank you."
Spyro, who was closer to her (I was sitting clear on the other side of the balcony), asked, "For what?"
Cynder said nothing in reply, only gazed at him and then at me. It was all the answer either of us would ever need. Silence was just her way. There was an understanding between us now; I wasn't angry at her for not speaking, because the quiet rang out all of her unspoken words. And that was okay.
