Spyro realized too late that encouraging Sparx to come was not the best of ideas. He would only make matters harder.

"Cynder, what're you doing out here? It's dangerous."

He caught up to the dragonling, making a mental note never to find himself looking for a dragon with black hide when it was high night. She glanced back at him, and Spyro found himself once more overwhelmed by the profound sorrow in the startling green eyes.

"You shouldn't have followed me Spyro," she said softly, stepping forward.

Sparx, reluctant from the start, said in an all too transparent voice, "that's good enough for me. Let's go. See you round."

"Please, don't make this harder for me than it already is," she pleaded, also, to the experienced eye, implying that she wanted him to leave.

"I don't understand," Spyro said, furling and unfurling his wings with conflicting discontentment. He had an odd feeling that she too, felt the sensation of an impending apocalypse. Not that he could really name it as an apocalypse. Perhaps she could…But why was she out here?

Cynder dipped her head sadly, "I'm leaving, Spyro," she said, "I don't belong here. After all I've done, all I've put you through...I can't stay."

For several moments, all he could do was stare in shock at the fidgeting, guilt-ridden dragonling, before he recovered his wits. "Cynder, nobody blames you for what happened," he assured her, now concentrating on preventing her from feeling she needed to leave.

"Wha? I do, speak for yourself," Sparx interrupted loudly, glaring at the aforementioned dragon with barely concealed hate and…fear?

"Sparx!" Spyro snapped angrily at his brother, small infant fangs closing together inches from the dragonfly's head.

"No, Sparx is right."

The bickering pair both stared at her in amazement.

Cynder shifted uncomfortably, before continuing, "And every day that goes by, I'm reminded of it." She switched her piercingly solemn gaze to Spyro, and he saw in that moment that she did feel the danger, and understood what it meant, even if he himself did not. By leaving, she was placing herself out of reach by the forces that would turn her against him. To protect them. Not just because she felt her life was not worth saving.

But he didn't want her to leave. He didn't want to lose the only other living dragon his age so soon. Seeing him about to protest, Cynder said quietly, "Spyro, your place is here. Your destiny is here…But, mine is somewhere out there for me to find."

All the vehement words Spyro had been about to say died on his tongue, and he only said, almost in a whisper, "Cynder…I…I don't want you to go."

"Goodbye, Spyro."

And with that, she turned and ran, without a backward glance, into the night.

Knowing, though he was not quite twelve years that her mind was made, and that chasing her into the night would accomplish nothing but more problems, Spyro numbly sat back on his haunches. He could not believe what had just happened. And how was he going to explain this to Ignitus?

Sparx was the only one who seemed cheerful, and beneficial of this turn of events, considering his unreasonable and unfair antagonism of Cynder. Spyro almost growled, but his head felt light, and he was finding it difficult to focus.

"Now," Sparx said, "can we finally get some sleep? I've been only sort of half sleeping with one eye open for weeks now. It lessens the strain, but I tell you, it takes a toll." He tapped the side off his head, blinking rapidly, "hey, was this twitch always there?" he asked of his brother, "Spyro?"

But Spyro wasn't listening. Or rather, he wasn't taking in anything that was being said. All he heard was a voice in his mind saying, 'sleep, young one. The Darkness is coming.'

The last thing he heard before he passed out was Sparx calling his name.