CHAPTER 9
Jerrath hastily ran out of the woods and took to the air. As soon as he rose above the treeline, he saw smoke coming from the center of town.
"Oh no..." He said increasing his speed.
Ria couldn't have done all this...could she? He landed in front of the temple and looked at the smoldering heap of wood that was the execution stage. He turned his head and took in the ruins that were now his hometown. Death was the only resident in Megaton now. Those who were able fled back to their homes, but not everyone was so lucky. It was so quiet... to Jerrath that was probably the most disturbing thing about where he was. Sure, the bodies offered a visual representation of the power and mercilessness of the beast he was supposed to fight, but the silence...It bore into his mind. It was so unnerving that even the slightest rustle of leaves sounded like the loudest clap of thunder.
"This cant be possible..." He whispered to himself as a noise besides the gentle wind caught his attention. It was coughing. He turned to see one of the temple guards laying just beyond the ruins of the stage.
He snapped out of his daze and ran over to him as fast as he could. Upon getting closer, he slowed his run to a walk, seeing the soldiers condition. His hind legs were mangled terribly, and he had a large gash going across his stomach, blood covering the ground around him and his light yellow and orange scales. Jerrath knelt down next to him and he opened his blue eyes wearily, their color sharply contrasting with the other colors of his body.
"What happened here?"
"The...the girl...sh-she killed...everyone..." He said every breath causing him immense pain.
His fears were all but confirmed. His sister was a murderer...only two days ago she was a normal little dragoness, and now she was some kind of monster. This was his fault and he knew it. All this death, all of this destruction could have been stopped if he had just treated her like she was his sister, and not some annoyance that came crying to him every time someone picked on her. She was born without horns, and that made her special, not a freak. He could even remember times when he turned a blind eye to her bullying. He was disgusted with himself. If he had just been a friend to his own sister, this would have never happened. She would have never had the need to go looking for an imaginary friend, he was sure of it.
He pulled himself from his thoughts and focused back on the dying dragon in front of him.
"Where is she now?" He asked calmly.
He didn't answer.
He used his remaining strength to point in the direction she had flown.
He nodded and stood up, stretching his wings.
"...Wait...you cant...leave me like this..." He said through coughs of the slightest amounts of blood, what little was left in him.
Jerrath looked back down at the wounded dragon. He was easily twice his size, so carrying him to the medical wing was out of the question, if anyone was even alive there. Strangely enough he didn't think being given medical care was what he wanted. He was pretty beat up, and his scales were already loosing their color. The pieces fell together as Jerrath realized what he wanted him to do. He was in shock as his jaw hung open slightly at the idea. He wanted Jerrath to kill him. He had never killed before...Hell, until yesterday he had never even been in a fight, and he didn't really count his beating as a fight. The only thing he could have claimed to 'kill' were the enchanted dummies in that old temple. His grey eyes met the sharp blue ones of the much larger dragon. His eyes were pleading for this as his words were unable to convey his desire anymore due to his weakness. Jerrath saw part of a spear that was broken in half lying next to him. He picked it up with his tail and held it above his chest. It wasn't murder if he wanted him to do it right? Still, this wouldn't be easy. He thrust the spear into the soldiers heart, splattering a little bit of his blood on his chest. He looked back into his eyes and saw that they were no longer pleading, but were now consumed with relief.
This was an alien concept to the young dragon. How could death be a relief from anything? Slowly, the spark of life left his eyes as he lay his head back onto the dirt. Jerrath released the spear from his tail and took a step back. He too had killed. The dragon before him probably had a family, friends, dreams and plans just like he did, but now...He had taken his life. Even though he had basically asked him to do it, it was still a disturbing concept to grasp. He had to get away from here, then a question entered his mind that filled him with dread. Where were his parents? He took off toward his cave and landed at the entrance.
"Mom? Dad?" He called into his home.
There was no response from the interior as he took a few cautious steps forward, growing more nervous with every passing second of silence. He walked into the main room of the cave where they ate their meals and saw that the table was still cluttered with the remains of the dinner of the night before. As he went deeper into the cave, he called out once again for his parents, but neither answered.
Coming upon his fathers study, he saw a black forepaw behind the wall separating the rooms. He smiled and ran into his fathers room, figuring he was just asleep.
"Dad! I found this old temple in the woods and-" He stopped in shock as he rounded the corner. He couldn't believe his eyes. Blood stained his fathers normally brilliant white chest and belly scales, while the rest covered the floor. He put his forepaw over his mouth as he recoiled in disbelief.
"...D...Dad...?" He stuttered sadly. His father didn't move. His scales were now faded, just like the soldier in the center of town earlier. He walked forward and grabbed his fathers forepaw. It was cold to the touch, and it didn't feel right at all. He knew what living scales felt like, and these certainly weren't. They felt loose as he joined his other hand on his fathers and fell to his knees in tears. In a few seconds, he had aged many years. Ignitus had told him to prepare himself in the event that someone he cared about was hurt, but he was sure it wasn't going to happen to him. It seemed like the old dragon was right. His sobs echoed through his empty cave as he held his fathers hand close as he grieved.
"Mom...! Where are you?!" He called through his tears into the emptyness...
"Please...answer me..." He said softly as his fathers blood stained tail tip caught his eye. He put the pieces together, only adding to his grief. His father took his own life. He almost couldn't believe it. He dropped the cold foreclaw and stepped back, still sobbing. How could he do something so selfish? To just give up and take the easy way out? Jerrath's sadness mixed with outrage as he clenched his teeth and fist. He slammed his fist into the wall and it nearly shook the entire cave, along with shattering all the bones in his right forepaw.
He screamed in pain as he bit down hard. He gingerly held his crippled fist as he staggered out of his former home.
He looked out across the still burning village center to catch his breath.
His father was dead, his mother had disappeared, he had shattered his fist, and his sister was possessed by the greatest evil the world had ever known. Things could only go up from here right?
xXx
Malefor landed in the center of Warfang, as all the citizens stopped and stared at the massive female dragon before them. There was a pause for a few seconds as the whole center of town went quiet. Malefor looked around and smiled evilly. Females, hatchlings, moles and many different kinds of creatures, all staring in wonder at the massive dragon before them, unaware of the hell about to be bestowed upon them.
He inhaled deeply and paused for a second, then released a torrent of dark fire, burning any in his way to nothing. The silence was shattered by screams as the citizens fled the monster.
The chief elder of Warfang was sitting in his chamber studying ancient texts when he heard the screams from his high room. He dashed out to his balcony and saw a massive figure in the distance, emitting a massive amount of dark energy. Something not seen for hundreds of years, which he had only read about in the scrolls he had been studying.
He was the great great great grandson of Pyrus, the original ruler of Warfang, and he looked just like him. He sped out of his chamber and alerted the other elders.
"Ready the defense forces! The Dark one marches on our gates!"
xXx
Jerrath stretched his wings and was about to take off when Cynder appeared in front of him.
"Oh...hi Cynder..." He said looking away from her, trying to hide his tears.
"I know you've been crying Jerrath." She said smiling slightly at him.
"...How'd you know?"
"Spirit, remember?" She said
"Right..." He said sniffing up the excess tears.
"I know why you were crying too. I'm sorry about your father." she whispered to him in a comforting tone.
Jerrath didn't respond he only glanced at her in shame. Males weren't supposed to cry, especially not in front of females.
"You don't have to hide from me Jerrath, I know how hard this is for you..."
"Do you? Do you know what its like to have your father kill himself? To think that you aren't a good enough reason for him to keep on living?" He said angrily.
Cynder saw right through his teen angst. She knew he wasn't mad at her, but he was displacing those feelings onto her.
"I know it hurts, but you still have one person who needs you. Their will be a time for grief, but now is not it. I know that sounds harsh but-"
"No...There's nothing left for me. My father is dead, and so is my mother and sister." He said turning his back on her.
Spyro quietly appeared beside Cynder when he saw that she wasn't making very much headway with him.
He stood up on his hind legs and turned back to them.
"I'm going with them..." He said raising his tailtip to his neck just as his father had done.
Bye!
