Well everyone, it's that time of year again. School has started back and that means I'm now on what my sister-in-law calls 'bus watch'. Meaning that I will be watching for the bus every weekday, collecting my nephews and watching them until either she or my brother return from work. Why you ask? Well, what are little brothers for?

Either way, it really shouldn't impact my writing or my updates much so as always, please rate and review, and also PM me if you have any comments or suggestions.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.

Chapter 1: Awakening

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The first feeling he had was of a cold breeze blowing over his body and through his hair at a rapid pace. The second, a smooth yet lurching feeling he felt he should know, yet for some reason or another, he couldn't grasp at it. Try as he might, he couldn't remember anything about what happened. His memories were like a blank slate, unwritten and unrecorded. Any vague glimpses of memories felt like sand sifting through his hands, unreachable and enigmatic. His eyes felt heavy and gritty as if he'd been asleep for a long time, his arms and legs ached and his head pounded as if he'd been drinking straight whiskey for three days nonstop. He felt a strap arond his hands and he flexed his hands experimentally to see if they could move.

Strangely enough, he felt whatever he was sitting on moving. He felt muscles shifting and straining constantly. He also felt heat coming from whatever this thing was for, he figured, it wasn't a bench or a chair, it was alive.

As he decided to open his eyes, a strange feeling, like a seperate consiousness brushed against his mind. Alien, and unknown, yet kind and restive.

"Not yet. Do not wake yet. Sleep a little longer, for the journey is nearly over. I can see what you are, strange as it is, but the others might not be as easy convincing. Sleep and conserve what strength you have left. For you will need it before the day is done, I fear."

As the voice faded, he felt a somewhat magical compulsion to indeed return to sleep. Figuring something was indeed amiss, but too tired to do anything of it, he allowed his tired body the rest it needed. Far off however, he heard something akin to a howl of relief and worry, a shout that crossed several hundred leagues and miles.

"ARDEN!"

He felt his mount twitch as if irritated by something, but instead, his mind came up with a weary reply, although he knew not how he did so or what the name meant.

"Rehne..."

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Psijic gave a quick jerk of his head as he felt something, someone mentally shout across several hundred miles. He thought he caught a name but it was too much of an echo to get a clear understanding of it. Tentatively, he reached his powers into the mind of his passenger and heard a whispered name, this one much clearer and obviously feminine.

"Rehne..." The name made Psijic think.

"The name of a loved one, or someone dear to him? Still, whoever that was that shouted that great a distance must be incredibly powerful. Hmmm...this one bears watching more closely I think. Perhaps this is even of enough note to tell the elder about..."

He allowed himself to continue his train of thought as he followed Spyro and Cynder to Warfang.

They had been flying for most of the day and the walls of the dragon city were just within sight. Small settlements had sprung up in the two years since the end of the war and cheetahs, moles, manweersmalls, and atlawa looked up at them, recognized Spyro and Cynder and waved up at them. More so for Spyro than for Cynder. Despite the role she played in defeating Malefor, many people still hated her for being the Dark General that had caused so much devestation in the years before the Eternal Night.

Still though, her actions had somewhat lessened the hatred some felt. Yet, there were some animosities and hatred that even if Cynder spent the rest of her life doing good for the people, she would never earn their forgiveness. It was these peoples that bore watching by the telepathic dragons. Psijic knew that in the days long past, it was the duty of his kind to detect any disent and possible rebellion. They had failed once when the apes invaded, and again when they had arrogantly ignored warnings that the temple hatchery was a target of the apes. They had paid for their failures with the majority of their species. To Psijic's knowledge, there were only sixty,perhaps seventy, telepaths left in the realms. If there were more, they were doing their best to keep their minds hidden and their talents suppressed.

Malefor had used his powers over dark crystals to detect any active telepaths and use the darkness within himself to drive them mad and force them to commit suicide. He was one of the few that had managed to escape notice thanks to the forsight to dig an extremely deep lair and remain there until he no longer felt dark shadows on the land. Only then had he tentatively searched for any familiar minds and found the Guardians and learned of Malefor's defeat.

Now with the threat of the apes and Malefor gone, entire families and colonies of dragons began to emerge from hiding. Ones and twos beginning, then, as word spread, by tens and hundreds. Within a fortnight, a new Fire Guardian had been selected, Ignitus' brother Volcanus, and the repairs to Warfang became top priority for the dragons and moles.

As the gates of Warfang drew closer, Psijic saw a patrol of three dragons take off to meet them. It had become a sort of custom for a small wing of dragons to see who was incoming and escort them to the temple if they were visitors and welcome them back if they were residents, and in some happy cases, reunited a father or mother with their mates and offspring.

The guards on the wall recognized Spyro from a distance immediately and took up escort positions. This too had become common practice not for the sake of deference or tradition but because so many dragons and dragonesses wanted a glimpse of the purple hero and some, sadly to say, had more baser motives. Several of the noble dragon families had begun to think that the addition of the purple hero to their bloodlines would elevate them over the others and thus several fathers had tried to press Spyro into an arranged marriage or mating with one or, in two particular cases, more of their daughters.

The Guardians had made the connection and even Cyril begrudged that Spyro needed to be protected as if he were a prince of the dragon's royal family. Which, as far as anyone knew, he might have been for no one knew who Spyro's birth parents were. Naturally there had been various claims but all of them had been refuted.

The guard dragons gave curious then stupified looks at Psijic when they saw the creature strapped to his back and one of them broke off to fly ahead to the temple and then to the royal castle. Apparently the guard was one of those fast-flying wind dragons because no sooner had he left formation towards the temple then bells began ringing across the city and the citizens came to the temple to see what the commotion was about. Psijic even caught a glimpse of King Magmus and Queen Icelia descending into the courtyard. The Guardians were soon there as well and the crowd moved to allow Spyro, Cynder, and he to land.

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The jarring seemed to stop. The muscular movements of his mount slowing as well. At first, he didn't know what to think except that something was happening. Then, there was a great lurch and had he been upright, he likely would have snapped his neck. All around him he heard a mutter of concerned whispers and a few hisses and snarls, as if he'd been thrown into a den of snakes and wild cats. This time, he fought to open his eyes to see what was going on, however, the same presense as before was there in his mind, calming him, keeping him in a sleep-like stupor for some unforseen reason. The presense finally spoke.

"If you were to awake now, you would be in grave danger. The people surrounding you are tense as bows, ready to jump and tear you apart if you so much as twitch. I shall release you from the hold in a while. But only when I am sure you are safely within the Temple's will be questioned by the four Guardians and the King and Queen of my race. I do not know your purpose here as I do not have a story of you, however, I can say this. When they address you, simply state that the Chronicler was the one who brought you here. That will satisfy them enough to not kill you outright, but you need time to gather your thoughts. Take comfort that this darkness is fleeting and that someone from your past is fast approaching. I feel that she and the ones she brings with her will play an integral role in restoring your lost memories. My meditations have only allowed me a glimpse into your memories. You have a name, although you may not recall it. You are Arden Jaeger, that is all that I know. Thankfully, you have an ally here that you do not know. He will vouch for your...affliction. This is not the last we shall speak, for I can tell there is much for you to relearn and even more to learn. Farewell."

With that, the Chronicler faded and Arden felt himself ease back into a restless slumber.

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Spyro stood before the Guardians and the royal family of the dragons. He could feel the tension amongst the assembled dragons, moles and other races here. Even the Guardians looked nervous at the human tired to Psijic's neck. Hunter, who had rode with Spyro, leapt down and presented the human's sword and staff to the Guardians, who in turn had a mole look at it. The clamor died down as the mole examined it. He examined the staff as if admiring a fine piece of art, for the staff was indeed beautiful. Spyro had little doubt that if the staff was left unguarded it would find a new home amongst the a noble's treasure vaults or an art gallery. For indeed several dragons Spyro recognized as nobility were eyeing the staff.

The staff was a silver inlaid white wood with various sigils and glyphs carved into the wood. The bottom was capped in silver and the top held the facceted blue gem encased in a silver guard with flanges that rose up along its side similar to a mace or a crown. The mole hefted the weight of the staff and whistled at the weight of it before passing it to another who took the staff inside, much to the disappointment of the nobility who had eyed it as a prize.

Then the mole examined the sword, which, as far as Spyro knew about swords, was just as beautiful as the staff, however, once Hunter had sheathed the blade on the beach, he could not draw it again. The mole found this out and had three more moles grab the scabbard and crossguard and attempt to draw it. The sword made a ringing noise that sounded like it was bound with invisible chains that prevented it from being drawn. Still, the craftsmanship was incredible. The sword was about as long as the human's arm, perhaps a little longer; the pommel was held another inlaid gem, this one was white in color, and the pommel was made of gold that was enchanted with faintly glowing glyphs. The grip was made of ebony wood bound in leather. The crossguard came out about a hand's length and was capped by a small dome. The silver glyph inlaid scabbard hid the rest of the blade. Cyril, being the leader of the Guardians since Ignitus' passing stepped forward to eye the human and Psijic. Then turned a curious, although somewhat, er, cold glance at Spyro.

"Spyro. I know you never do anything without a good reason for it. But I find myself curious. Why did you bring this...this...ape here to Warfang? Is he a prisoner to be tried for crimes during the war? If so then how did you subdue him? However, if he isn't then I can hardly begin to understand why you would bring this thing here."

At the mention of the creature being a prisoner, several people glanced at the unconcious being with mixed expressions. Some with anger, as if remembering past wrongs; others glanced with smug satisfaction at the thought of at least one ape facing the crimes his race had wrought; others though, stared with fear at the creature, for how powerful could this thing be if it required the combined efforts of Spyro, Cynder, Hunter and a telepath dragon to bring him down? To the surprise of everyone, Spyro shook his head.

"He is none of these things Master Cyril. Cynder, Psijic, Sparx, Hunter, and I found him unconcious on the beach by the ocean. Psijic here tried to read his mind to see what he was doing here but he drew a blank. Something about amnesia or somesuch affliction that made him lose his memories. Furthermore, I don't think he is evil. As I examined him on the beach, my nose touched the staff and I saw him fighting and managing to slay a creature that was too horrible to describe. Furthermore, as he lost consciousness, I saw a gold dragon descending and calling out to him. Plus, he is no ape. From what I gathered, he is of a race called 'humans'."

This started a murmuring among the crowd. Even Cyril looked taken aback. Volteer began eyeing the human with an interested expression and spoke in a rapid speech.

"Human you say dear lad?Well then this can only be described as possibly one of the greatest, most stupendous, miraculous, incredible finds anyone has ever-" Cyril sighed exasperated.

"Yes, yes Volteer. It is indeed interesting that Spyro discovered a new species. Even if it looks like a variety of ape to me. Still though, you said it slew a horrible creature? Still, I must know what this was and if this creat-uh, human poses a threat to us."

Spyro went on to describe the vision of the battle, including the vile monster and then the appearance of the golden dragoness. Volteer's eyes narrowed as he described the creature. Cyril noticed this and looked at him.

"Volteer, is there any such creature in our lore as Spyro described?" Volteer nodded, speaking slowly which shocked everyone and made them hang on his every word.

"The creature you just described is one I have only heard of but never seen. For which I am very thankful. It is called a Revenant. A spirit of an evil being so filled with hatred that it refused to cross over when its body was slain. Instead, it possesses another corpse and rises again and has the power to create undead similar to the cursed apes. They are extremely difficult to kill and even more so to eradicate entirely as apparently this fellow was able to do. The fact also that a golden dragoness, as you said showed concern for his well-being puts me in like mind that he is a hero of some sort. The fact he has amnesia is somewhat of a sad occurance for I would genuinely enjoy studying his magical abilities and comparing them to dragons. It is likely that he has forgotten all his spells however, and it will take time to recover what he has lost, if he ever does. He is no enemy to us, especially without his magic or weapons."

Terrador, who had been quiet all this time, eyed the human and then looked at Spyro.

"Spyro, do you mean to claim this human as under your protection? You do realize that once he wakes, he may not be an ally of ours. The golden dragons are known to value the sanctity of life and as such, perhaps she was simply trying to rescue every ally from the falling castle. By taking him into your protection, if he turns on us, you will be the one who will be obligated to kill him. Do you understand this?" Spyro gulped, but nodded he understood. Then, the Guardians, the Royals, and the group went into the temple and the doors swung shut.

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Arden felt his mind buzz but didn't think much more of it. Behind him, he heard a pair of large metal doors bang shut, although the clamor was still audible from outside. He had heard every word and was a little bit touched that this Spyro was willing to trust him. He decided then and there not to give him any trouble. As the echo of the door shutting faded, the compulsion to remain comatose faded and he began to breathe deeper, twitch his hands, and shift his weight around. He had guessed since he was being held by dragons that obviously he was strapped to one.

The dragon he was riding felt his movements and nodded.

"Finally awake eh? Spyro! Cynder! He is awake!" Spyro, Cynder, and Sparx dropped back to watch the him carefully. He blinked his eyes a few time like a ruffled owl awoken in the day and eased up, making sure his hand restraints didn't choke his transport. His back, neck, wrists, and knees cracked and creaked as he stretched drawing somewhat startled and humorous glances from several dragons and moles inside the temple. Even the King turned back and glanced back at him, his muzzle a mix of curiousity and amazement as he popped his joints to loosen them.

After a moment, they reached a room with a massive pool in the center and several halls diverging from it. Several dragons and dragonesses of various ages were there. Arden found himself thinking on some kind of academy of school from his memories. The dragons all glanced at him with youthful wonder and also caution. He turned and spotted a bipedal cheetah.

"Hey, if it's not too much to ask, could you please cut these bindings? I'm kind of stiff for staying in one position for too long." The cheetah glanced at the four elder dragons ahead and they nodded. In a flash, the cheetah drew a small bone handled knife and cut the leather binding his wrists around the dragon's neck. The dragon seemed just as relieved to be rid of his passenger as he was to get off.

As soon as his feet touched the cold stone floor, the dragon he had ridden on pushed him forward with his muzzle toward the assembled group of dragons. Two of the dragons had decidedly royal airs about them while the other four had a wise experience that resonated from them.

(These must be the leaders of their race!) Arden thought; (If so, then it'd be a good idea to be on my best behavior, although damned if I can remember how to act in front of royalty.)

Relying on some unknown instinct to guide him, Arden executed a low bow while facing them. The blue dragon elder seemed surprised, but pleased, by the gesture, the yellow one spoke next in a tone and steadyness that seemed to surprise his compatriots.

"So, you are the human Spyro found? I must admit that under different circumstances I would love to sit and chat with you about your race and everything that makes you, well, you. Unfortunately, the vision Spyro had when he touched your staff has me worried and plus, Psijic, the dragon who brought you here, tells us you can remember nothing. We would, however, like to hear whatever it is you remember at all. Oh, forgive my manners. I am Volteer, Guardian of Electricity and Lightning; the dragons to my left are Volcanus, Guardian of Fire and Cyril, Guardian of Ice. To my right is Terrador, Guardian of Earth and of course our King and Queen, Magmus and Icelia."

Again, Arden bowed to each of them, more our of instinct than understanding. He took the others silence as his que to begin speaking.

"First, I thank you all for not outright killing me for looking similar to one of these, er, apes, you call them. Second, what, eh, Psijic? Y-Yes, what Psijic says is true. I have no recollection of my memories except for a few snatches and pieces. I only just recently recalled my name. I am Arden Jaeger, and as for what my station in life is, I'm afraid that still is not clear to me nor the battle of which you speak. In honesty, I do not even know how I came to be here in your lands except that while I was unconscious, I was contacted by a mysterious being who called himself 'the Chronicler'. Does that mean anything to you?"

Judging by the expressions of shock and disbelief on the faces and muzzles of everyone here, he couldn't have gotten a more shocked reaction than if he'd brained someone over the head with his staff which, he now noticed, was laying next to the royals, along with his sword.

Spyro was the first to walk up to him, his face a mixture of disbelief and worry.

"The Chronicler?! The CHRONICLER brought you here?!"

Such was Spyro's shock, Arden began to wonder if he'd just signed his own death warrant, however, the elders looked somber and at his request, Cyril explained.

"The Chronicler is a dragon of incredible power who stays secluded in his lair in the White Isle. He is the master lorekeeper of our entire race and has books on every single dragon in existance, living or dead. He seldom, if ever, meddles in the affairs of us here on the mainland, but when he does, it is usually a portent of things to come. Sometimes not for the better." Terrador nodded.

"Indeed, the last time the Chronicler deigned to speak was with Spyro alone during the night of Eternal Darkness, more often called the Eternal Night. The time during the war when Malefor arose." Arden nodded.

"I take it this Malefor wasn't a good dragon?" Cyril harrumphed in an exaggerated and pompous fashion.

"He was among the worst of the worst of our race. Wars waged, innocents slaughtered, eggs smashed, families destroyed. Our entire race almost brought to the brink of extinction. Not to mention he was a dragon who tried to master the most dark and forbidden of magics, spells, and potions."

The Mention of dark magic made the hair on Arden's neck stand on end though why he was, again, aggravatingly unsure. This time Terrador spoke.

"Regardless of how you got here. The question remains that now that you are here you must remain in the temple for the time being." Arden raised an eyebrow.

"As a prisoner, or is this for my own safety?" Volcanus, the Fire Guardian, nodded, speaking in a deep rumbling voice.

"Indeed. This is primarily for your safety human. While I reserve my judgement and defer to Cyril and the others that you are no threat to us as you are. Nevertheless, the people have suffered great tragedies and atrocities at the hands of the apes and the claws of Malefor. If you were allowed to walk freely, more than a few of them would attempt to end you and worse none would blame them. Dragons are a race that, due to our long lives, and even longer memories, remember every slight, insult, and injustice done to us or those of our blood. It is not an understatement to say that Spyro and Cynder might be the only true friends you have at the moment. We Guardians protect and teach all of dragonkind, if we believe you are a threat to us, we will end you ourselves. So while you may think you are a prisoner, consider that it is better to be a live prisoner than a dead innocent." Arden nodded slowly, understanding the wisdom in Volcanus' words.

"May I ask then where I will be staying? A dungeon or-" This time, Terrador laughed, a thundering rolling sound that momentarily surprised the other Guardians.

"A dungeon? By the Ancestors no. Volcanus' statement was accurate but worded poorly. While indeed you must remain in the temple for your protection, you will be quartered in one of the guest wings. While you are here, you are under our protection and we shall strive to help you remember that which you have lost. While we know little of swordplay, we do know a lot of magic and from what I can tell just by looking at your staff and you, I can sense the strength of your magic. One of the servants here will take your measurements for new clothes as I fear those have seen too much wear from the sea." Hunter stepped forward.

"Guardians, if I may? I know a few things of sword fighting, I would like to undertake training him in the sword. Perhaps a few memories linked to combat may resurface." Arden thought and nodded.

"If it'll help me remember anything, it's worth a shot."

Before Cyril could object, Terrador beamed and nodded.

"Indeed. It would be a rare opportunity to see how a human sword fighter differs from an ape, cheetah, atlawa or mole. Although, if the sparring doesn't awaken any memories, will you consent to having Hunter grant you a handicap?" Arden shook his head outright.

"No handicaps. I know enough about myself that even if I had full use of my memories I would never ask anyone to hold back for my sake. If anything, having a skilled opponent might jar something loose that would not be revealed if he was not giving his all." Terrador, being a warrior nodded his understanding and gave Arden a glance suggesting a hint of pride.

"Then let us all go to the training arena. To all students: you are welcome to watch as well. Let us see how an amnesiac fighter spars with the our weapons master."

As Arden turned to the arena, a mole came forward and presented him his sword.

"Whatever enchantments prevent the blade from being drawn, perhaps the touch of your hand will release them."

Gripping the scabbard and belting it to his waist, Arden nodded and followed Hunter and the excited dragons and moles down the corridor that lead to the arena.

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Okay everyone, there is the first chapter of Aegis Arcanum. Now then, next time: Arden pits himself against Hunter in a sword fight. Will his absent memory come through in the end or will he fail miserably? Find out next time in Chapter 2: Arcadia.

As always everyone, please rate and review! Until next time!