Author's note: I know this update is later than most, but I had some writer's block. Introducing: Slyther! Hunter makes an appearance as well, but shhh it's a surprise. Also, more Spryo and Cynder heavy content. Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think!

Chapter Three

Spyro stretched his wings in the dimming light, the sunset illuminating the islands. He rubbed his sore shoulder, looking for Cynder. His head rose as he spotted her gliding back from the furthest island out.

"So, exercises complete," she shouted to him from the sky, "how're you feeling?"

"Sore," he sighed, "but good, I suppose." He shook himself, flexing his wings. "I think we can leave tomorrow if you bring extra crystals."

She landed beside him heavily, shaking the dust off her scales. "Get some rest, Spyro. I can gather the crystals myself, and I'll come sleep after I'm done."

He nodded and went inside the cave, watching her as he lay down. His thought stayed on the sight of her nimble form flying away once more as his eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep.

As Spyro slept, he dreamed. He dreamed of ash and fire, the remains of the scorched lands of the warzone. As he looked around, despair filling his heart, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Spyro, it is good to see you again," a voice said.

Spyro gasped and spun around. "Ignitus!" he shouted, running towards his old mentor. He collided with Ignitus, hugging his thickly scaled chest and sobbing into his… cloak?

Ignitus smiled down at him, returning his hug. "I am so glad to see you safe, young dragon."

Spyro looked up at him, his tear stained cheeks leaving spots on the blue and gold cloak draped around Ignitus's form. "Why… I thought you died. Why are you grey?" His eyes became puzzled, staring up at the strange new color of Ignitus's scales.

"Well, young dragon, the dawn of a new era is upon us. A new Chronicler had to be chosen, and I was deemed worthy," he explained.

"What happened to the old Chronicler? Is he dead?" Spyro asked, concern overcoming his gaze.

"He has become one with me, as the Chronicler before did with him. I now contain the knowledge of each Chronicler before me, and I can speak to their spirits in a meditative state."

"Huh," Spyro said, overwhelmed by the events taking place in front of him. "I'm just glad you're… alive, if you still are."

Ignitus nodded. "I am," he said. "While the Chronicler exists on a different plane than live dragons, I do have a physical form, just like the Chronicler you met. The Celestial Isles still house my archives."

"You even speak more like him now," Spyro mumbled, his head drooping as he sat down. "I miss you, Ignitus."

"I know, young dragon," Ignitus sighed. "But you will persevere. Right now, Warfang needs you. Cynder's plan will work. Fly to the west, there you will find the island of Munition's Forge. From there, you can travel back to Warfang."

"Thank you, Ignitus," Spyro whispered, a tear dropping from his muzzle. "I hope I'll see you again soon."

Ignitus nodded, placing a paw on his shoulder. He lowered his head to look Spyro in the eye. "The ancestors will look after you, as they have looked after us all." He smiled, touching his muzzle to Spyro's forehead. A glowing light overtook Spyro's vision, and with that, he woke up.

In the back alleys of the slums of Warfang, a grey dragon paced. His graphite scales were dull in the light from the twin moons, his curved horns swinging as his talons clicked on the cobblestones. His head jerked up, the almost featherlike spines on his crown bristling as he looked towards a door that had opened out into the alley.

"Hey," a voice whispered at him. The cheetah that had stepped out of the building gestured for him to come inside.

He nodded and walked inside briskly, head down. He walked everywhere like that.

"So what are you looking for this time?" the cheetah asked, closing the door and crossing his arms. His face betrayed wariness and frustration, his voice tight.

"The clients need more of the dark crystals," he said, sighing. He rubbed a paw over his eyes. "The dragons they're holding won't survive without them."

"I don't understand why you're helping them," the cheetah said. "The city has a program set up to cure the dark dragons."

"You don't understand!" he growled. "They will kill them. These dragons can't be saved by the council's methods. But they have families that want to see them alive. If I just have more time…"

The cheetah sighed. "Slyther, if the council finds out I'm helping you…"

"Hunter, I know it's risky," he said, eyes pleading, "but these dragons need help. If we can get them weaned off the dark crystals, then they can get into the council program and they will be fine."

Hunter sighed once more, the soft breath turning into a growl of frustration. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. I don't have any now."

Slyther nodded and let his wings fall to his sides. "Thanks… I know this is hard. It's… it's all I can do here now, since everyone hates us."

Hunter nodded. "I know. Shadow dragons especially get a bad rap."

Slyther looked away guiltily. "It's not like we don't deserve it."

Hunter glared at the floor. "That's not true. If Spyro and Cynder were here, they'd explain things. They know what it's like to fall prey to Malefor."

Slyther puffed a small smoke trail of shadow, nodding furiously. "I never got to meet them. I always wanted to meet Cynder, to learn how to properly control my new… element."

Hunter chuckled a bit. "She's a handful alright. I fought with them before the Dark Master was taken down. She and Spyro bickered like Cyril and Volteer."

Slyther smiled a bit. "I wish I could talk to them more too. I heard Searus made council. He's shadow, but his mate is poison. They're real leaders in our community."

"I bet if you talked to Searus, he could get you an audience. I could put in a good word too," Hunter offered. "I'm sure they'd love to hear how all the new dragons are… adjusting."

Slyther grimaced. "I wish I could give them good news then." He stood, walking to the exit. "I'll see you when you're ready for me, Hunter."

Hunter nodded, opening the door for him. "I'll signal for the crystals. Hopefully I can get you an audience soon," he said, smiling. "Don't stay out too late, Slyther."

Slyther's spined tail swept the ground as he left, disappearing into the shadows of the alleys.