I promised myself no matter what I'd finish the Legend of Cynder stories—and I am holding myself to that promise. It's been eons, I know, but I blame life. She's a cruel mistress indeed, perhaps even crueler than Mistress herself. But that's aside the point.

While I wait for the results on "Fan Fatales," I will focus on continuing LoC. This chapter is a bit of a continuation off of the previous one, so it's still a tad short, but not nearly as short as last time. I removed the filler for now and will repost it as an extra once the story is done. Thank you all so much for your patience!


A Major Eye-Opener

SMACK! A vine whipped into Cynder's nose, making the dragon falter in annoyance. Even though her head was lowered so she wouldn't hit the top of the stone structure, it didn't prevent the creepers from lashing out at her face. "How much farther?" she moaned, eyes stinging from sudden light.

The ape commander leading the group chuckled, "We're already here." Cynder raised her head and walked onto a tall platform covered with grass and stones. The soldiers that helped escort the dragon to the settlement scampered to the camp, where small huts made from grasses and animal hides housed several dozen apes of every size and military rank.

"Excellent! Now, commander I must ask—." The dragoness stopped and blinked in surprise at the ape. She had met him in a fairly dark tunnel, so she hadn't had a chance yet to see what outfit he had on. "…What the hell are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" he beamed, "This is a traditional Atlawa outfit for the warriors and braves to wear when they go out for battle. What do you think?" The ape turned around, showing off his yellow-and-blue feathered hat and bright red pants.

"Erm… it looks… good…" Cynder breathed, trying hard to smile. She sincerely hoped that the ape would not see how much she disliked the bright primary colors. Blue shoulder blades against RED and YELLOW? Are they colorblind?

Fortunately for her, the chief was too busy smiling proudly at his village to notice Cynder's impolite grimace. "Madam Cynder, is this place not beautiful? Since our immigration to this realm, we have built a spiritual culture to honor the three gods: The Dark Master, Gaul, and you."

"Me?" Cynder gasped, staring at the many teepees and huts. Several female apes were lingering about outside, gossiping to each other. The soldiers on lookout duty were posted everywhere on this part of the large floating island. The idea of this entire village worshipping at her feet made her a little uneasy. "I'm one of your gods?"

The chief nodded. "Well, technically you're a goddess, but no matter. It is a great honor to be visited by someone of your noble stature."

Somewhat baffled by the continuous streams of flattering comments, Cynder could only stare wide-eyed at the scene. The simplicity of the camp almost brought a new feeling of peace to her mind. It almost felt as if she has been here for a long time.

"Commander," Cynder coughed, clearing her mind of idle thoughts, "Can you please direct me to the Atlawa shrine? I'm ready to take the Crystal of Ice to the Dark Master."

The commander laughed then, but it was different than what Cynder expected it to be. It was… drained? Dry? Something about it was off. "There is no need to be quite so formal," the commander mumbled. "You can call me Major. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that I cannot escort you there." With a weary sigh, Major sat down on a log. All of a sudden, the proud ape Cynder saw earlier looked tired and sad. "We have too few able-bodied soldiers at camp right now; they're all out protecting the plains and searching for the remaining Atlawa people."

Pity welled up in the dragon's throat. Quietly washing her claws, she mused, "Then can you at least point me in the right direction? I don't come here that often."

Major looked up at the dragoness and smiled emptily. Her scales prickled a little. Yes, he definitely seemed worn-out… but why did that bother her? "Just head northeast and follow the wind. Go over the wheat fields and turn left at the pyramids, and you'll be there in no time. Take note that if you hit the flatlands, you've gone too far."

Information swimming in Cynder's head like soup, the dragon only nodded quietly, and glanced vaguely towards the village, trying to avert her attention from his shaken eyes. All of a sudden, her mind seemed to drop out of the real world and into her own thoughts, sending her into a wild sea of emotions. Visions of home and hearth with Fabius clashed brutally with frightful imaginings of confronting her uncle face-to-face. In the back of her mind she could hear Major's voice proclaiming her a goddess—only to be washed away by the watery sound of her own guilt wearing at her thoughts.

"Cynder?"

She snapped back to reality, abruptly turning and staring in shock at Major. A serious look plastered on his face, the commander asked, "What's wrong?"

Cynder snorted, trying to shrug it off. Unconvincingly, she muttered, "Nothing is wrong, Major. I was just somewhat… distracted."

The commander sat up and placed a hairy hand on Cynder's shoulder. It felt sickly warm, running shivers up her body. "Follow me." He grunted, flashing Cynder a meaningful look. "I must show you something."

Pacing slowly through the camp, Cynder padded forward slowly, ducking her head low under a ridge that led away from the huts. The grass began to die away the farther she walked, only to be replaced by hard clumps of dirt and rock and a few sparse weeds scattered on the floating path. The farther she went along, she noticed, the fewer apes were running about.

Uncomfortable by the awkward silence, the dragon whispered to Major, "Sir, where are you—?"

"Look down there, Cynder. Take in what you see."

Craning her neck, the black dragon's jaw slowly dropped open at the sight. Two official-looking apes, obviously higher-ranked commanders of Gaul, were swirling whips over their heads in a remote training outpost. Three dozen or so little apes in tattered tribal uniform were forcibly training on the harsh terrain, doing everything from crawling through mud, to running through tires, to doing push-ups. Many of them were chained and shackled together, with some even burdening weights on their arms and legs.

The conditions were harsh—almost comparable to the swamp settlement—but something about this place filled Cynder with even more dread. Narrowing her eyes, she honed her vision in on the soldiers and gasped.

They were children.

Gasping, the dragon only watched in horror as the officials whipped one of the smaller apes for crying after forty push-ups. The sound struck her ears like lightning and throbbed in her head as if she had just gotten a massive concussion. With a quiet breath, Cynder murmured, "Major… why are these children training under such conditions?"

"I am a commander," the ape replied, "which means I am an adult. Leaders are adolescents with minor weapons-training, and soldiers… children. Every soldier under Malefor's rule, Gaul's instruction, and ultimately your guidance, is a child too young to be away from their mother.

"Now, I am but an ape—slave to Gaul, to the Dark Master, and also to you. But when I looked into your eyes I saw something different, something special that no superior of mine has ever possessed before. Your concern for these children is only solidifying my theory that you, Cynder, are not completely evil."

Evil. The word struck Cynder's heart like an iron stake being driven through it. She knew of the two opposite alignments—of good, and of evil—but she never imagined herself truly on either side. She could remember Malefor saying that he and all his minions were forces of good, and that if he was freed he would serve his 'true purpose' as a purple dragon, although he never explained his intentions further. Surely he didn't know about this, did he? About these apes suffering since a young age, destined to patrol their whole lives only to die young at the hands of the rebels? No, he couldn't know of this. I must tell him as soon as possible.

Noticing her silence, Major continued, "Cynder, our culture is shifting. The Dark Master declared himself god, along with you and Gaul. We are not worshipping by choice, but by force. Malefor is trying to root out our faith in our own gods by replacing them with himself as omnipotent ruler."

Cynder stared at him.

"Now," Major sighed, "What you do with this information is up to you. But I will tell you this: our people feel that you are our only hope—our only way of communicating our needs to the Dark Master. Gaul will no longer listen, so please, Cynder… please do something."

There was a long silence. Cynder looked at Major in the eyes. For the first time, she noticed how pale and weak he was, and how old he was growing. She turned her head to the ground and felt with her paws its rough surface, not suitable for training. And finally, she turned her head to the young children, forced into training at a ridiculous age only so they can be sent as death-fodder against the rebels.

She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

Major looked at her expectantly.

"I… will see what I can do."

Without another word, Cynder flapped her giant wings and took off in a northeasterly direction, the words of Major echoing down every fathom of her being. Would she have looked back, Cynder would have seen Major's frown evolve into a weak smile of hope—the first breath of hope in a long time.


How long has it been? SIX MONTHS? Even worse—that last update was filler. God, I don't know why somebody hasn't shot me yet for being so untimely.