Flame surveyed the land below, his mind at a loss. He and Ember found Spyro's cave, but he hadn't anticipated the surrounding aftermath. The gargantuan hole within the lower level of land stretched nearly to the horizon, a great ulcer within Avalar.

Flame and Ember descended to the ground in a series of slow loops before their fours caught the grass. "Ember," Flame said as he approached the rotting, puckered hole near the cave. "Look at this."

Ember sided herself next to him. Her muzzle wrinkled. "This must be The Black Star's work."

Flame nodded and looked about. The land around them bore signs of battle, the soil scorched or frosted: the lingering effects of elements. "Let's see if they're still here."

They ran towards the cave and stopped at the entrance. Flame called for Spyro and Cynder, but received no answer. The red dragon's brow creased as he voiced his thoughts. "Suppose we could wait, but I get the feeling they're not doing that."

Ember asked, "You mean they won't come back?"

Flame nodded. "After all we saw I think they're trying to stem the problem. But..." He turned back towards the giant hole in the distance. The scarce, mote-laden rays of sun through the overcast couldn't pierce the abyss' depths. "I've never seen anything like this before. How can one creature hold so much power?"

Ember shared the view with him. She pointed out, "Malefor's power was on a similar scale."

"True," Flame said, "but that was with a different intention. This..." He turned his head away from a sudden wind, from the acrid scent of sepsis. "There's nothing purifying about this."

Ember nodded in silent agreement. She squinted as she peered left into the distance, to the cobbled grass lands adjacent to the hole. "I might be able to track them."

Flame canted his head towards her. "There's enough heat?"

"Enough for five dragons, maybe six. We'll have to start with their physical tracks first."

Flame grunted in approval. "Hard to imagine you as the huntress."

She lent him a leer. "Is that right?" She sprung into a light run away from the cave. Flame followed and joined her search, the two nearly side by side. After a few minutes of searching they stopped. Ember pawed at a particular imprint in the grass: longer in proportion to that of a typical dragon. "Ferals. Two of them."

"Ferals?" Flame said. "Why would they be with Ferals?"

"I don't know. They might have had something to do with the fighting back there."

Flame considered that. "Helped or hindered?"

A beat of thought. "Both, maybe."

"Both?" He sneered a little, the thought befuddling. "Guess we'll have to get the answers from them." They further tracked the prints, their rising intrigue marked by their increased pace. "They banded together at some point."

Ember remarked, "Three dragons."

Flame noticed the third set of dragon prints. "Three? Who else would they..." The thought struck him. "Malefor? They brought Malefor?"

"I guess so."

Flame's lip curled. "Hard to imagine him being of use."

"His knowledge," Ember reminded him. "He's the only one who knew The Black Star beforehand."

"And now from the looks of it know him personally." Flame let out a constricted sigh. "I don't see why they need him anymore."

"Maybe as another arm," Ember said. "It's only fitting considering what he's done."

Flame grunted. "Suppose you're right."

Ember gave him a wry smile. "Let's worry about that later. I need some company while I'm looking for their heat trail. Can you do that for me?"

Flame's agitation eased into amusement. "I don't know. I have enough heat for well over five dragons. It might confuse you."

Ember gave him an incredulous look, her cheek dimpled as she smirked. "Is that right?"

"I could be detrimental to this search."

Ember's eyes narrowed, at odds with her smile. "I'm not sure if I like this cocky side."

Flame's playful grin vanished. "Uh...was just trying to―"

The dragoness covered her muzzle and laughed. "It's alright. You're not in trouble."

"Oh, okay."

They continued along in silence, focused on the path before them. Ember looked on with a second sight, the figures she sought as phantom shimmers.

{{}}

Malefor made another swipe at Goon. "Incessant! Bastard! Are you a hatchling in the head?"

"No. You are," Goon said as he strode near Malefor, barely out of his reach. "And you're terrible at tag."

Malefor snapped, "Tag? Did I really just hear you say that?"

"No."

Malefor grunted. "That's what I thought."

Goon darted in and poked the dragon's shoulder. "Tag."

Malefor didn't pursue this time. He shouted to Spyro, "Will you rein this goddamn feral?"

Spyro walked along with Cynder. He gave Malefor a glance. "I don't see the harm. Why don't you calm down?"

Malefor slanted his head. "Calm down? Everything you've witnessed and you have the gall to tell me that?"

Goon spoke for Spyro. "He did. What are you gonna do, huh?" Malefor fumed in silence. Goon added, "Nice collar."

Malefor lunged, quicker this time, his claws at Goon's belly. Metal sung through the air. Shattersound's blades nearly met Malefor's muzzle, the dark dragon's eyes fixed on the weapon. Raziela's eyes were still fixed to the distance. "Off limits. Only I have that pleasure."

Both Malefor and Goon glowered at that. Goon said to her, "You're a freak."

Raziela shouldered her weapon. "And you're still getting the tree."

Spyro and Cynder stopped and turned towards them, assured their neutrality. After a moment they continued their pace. Cynder asked the ferals, "What's this about a tree?"

Raziela raised her head up at the dragoness, eyed her from the bottom of her vision. "It's a disciplinary measure. Kind of an insider thing. Best not to ask anymore."

Cynder raised an eyebrow. "Insider thing?"

"Yeah. An insider thing."

Spyro and Cynder exchanged a glance. Cynder said to Goon, "You're right. She is a freak."

Raziela's ears lowered as she made a move towards Cynder. Goon blocked her way with Double or Nothing. "Raziela," he said with an admonishing air, "remember our talk?"

"I do," she said with barely restrained ire. "I just don't care."

"Then start caring. Save it for that monkey's pet freaks. I'm sure we'll see more of them." Goon slowly lowered his weapon. Raziela's stare smoldered upon Cynder for a moment longer. The black dragoness returned the stare, and after a moment the two of them broke eye contact.

Wordlessly, they trekked on through the rocky grasslands, their gaits brisk. Slivers of sun occasionally broke through the choking overcast, released gliding bands of light across the grass before the clouds snuffed them out.

Time trickled on, with only the occasional cough or indistinct mutter from the dragons and ferals. Finally, Spyro spoke, his head lifted at a collection of ruins in the distance. "The Dragon Temple. Or what's left of it."

Malefor tilted his head at the ruins, the faded ocher stone splotched in browns and blacks, strangled by ferns and vines. He huffed a laugh and turned to Spyro. "Oops."

Spyro and Cynder halted. They turned around slowly, their expressions equivocal. "Malefor," Spyro said, "did you just make a joke?"

Malefor carefully chose his words despite his desire to be obstinate. "Well. Only fitting, isn't it?"

"About the temple I was trained in? My guardians' home? The one you took for yourself and destroyed?"

Malefor averted his eyes. "Purely preterite," he reminded Spyro. "Just remember that."

"Tasteless," Spyro said, his words impassive. "Petty."

Malefor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, what do you want? An apology?"

"No need," Spyro said. "Besides, I doubt those three will accept 'sorry'."

Raziela inserted herself into the conversation. "What three? The quads?"

Spyro nodded. "Terrador, Volteer, and Cyril."

Goon snorted. "Those are stupid names."

"This coming from a goon," Spyro retorted, "Named Goon. Doing goon stuff. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah," Goon replied. "Goon envy." Spyro blinked at him. Goon said, "Don't worry. It happens to all of us."

Spyro's stare rested on Goon for a spell longer. He turned his head to Raziela. "Hit him."

Raziela smacked Goon upside his head, the red feral at a loss. Goon held his arms to the sides, his muzzle crinkled in agitation. "When do you start taking orders from him?"

"It was more like a request," Raziela said. "I can do requests."

"No," Goon said. "It was more like being a bitch." He stretched his neck forward and grinned.

Raziela scowled down at him. "Don't finish that comment."

Spyro called back to them, "That's enough. Try to keep the fighting at a minimum. I don't know how they'll react to Malefor, if they'll even recognize him."

Through the broken pillars and segmented walls they caught sight of three conversing large dragons: one green, one yellow, one blue. The three dragons' heads turned in unison towards Spyro, their necks craned forward. After a moment they wound around the ruins towards them.

The green dragon, Terrador, led the other two, his bulky body a denotement of his earth element, his scales dappled in red, scarred chest plating and horns a faded ocher. "Spyro," he rumbled with a smile. "Cynder. Where have you been?"

The yellow dragon, Volteer, sided next to Terrador. Volteer's element was that of lightning, and it reflected upon his brilliant yellow scales, his body marked by paler, jagged stripes, his cerulean horns and chest plating etched with age. "An apt question!" he said with his usual unyielding energy. "You're very much missed! Hard to find too." With nary a delay he switched subjects. "Did you not witness that most peculiar squall in the distance? I've never seen anything like that!"

"Volteer," the blue dragon said, his sleek body crystalline, his plating dappled in hoarfrost, "I don't think anyone missed that. Maybe you did, preoccupied as you are in that attic you call a head." Volteer had a retort on the tip of his tongue until he and Terrador noticed the ferals and Malefor. Cyril followed their curiosity and approached the newcomers, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's all this then?"

It struck Spyro then: the decision to reveal Malefor's identity. He didn't think they would attack the former dark master, but the revelation could compromise the very thing Spyro strove for; a new beginning for Malefor, partitioned from his past. His eyes wandered for an image, something to prime a name. First an M. His eyes darted to the right, where he glimpsed some furrowed soil beyond a cluster of pillars, a ditch for the runoff.

"Mitch," Spyro said, his paw pointed at Malefor. Malefor opened his mouth to object, but he quickly caught on. Spyro continued. "His name's Mitch." He tilted his head up at the ferals. "They're Raziela and Goon."

The three guardians absently nodded at the ferals. Their interest drifted back to Malefor. Terrador remarked, "Strange. He could pass as Malefor's son." He leaned closer. Concern crept across his face as he examined him. "Where are you wings, young dragon?"

Goon stepped forward and put his hand Malefor's shoulder. "Well, ya see," he patronized, "Mitch a special kind of dragon."

"Special?" Cyril interrogated. "Him? He looks more like a prune than a purple dragon."

Goon tsked and waggled his finger. "Fruits and purple dragons, huh? For shame."

Cyril sneered. "What?"

Goon continued. "Mitch is special in a different way. You see, when a feral and a dragon love each other very much, the boy dragon and the girl feral‒"

Terrador staunched him. "We understand." He addressed Raziela. "And you? How did you both come to meet Spyro and Cynder?"

Raziela smacked her tongue. "Well..." She bent her neck towards Spyro and Cynder. "We shared a near death experience." Her arm whipped out and wrapped around Spyro's neck. "Best friends now."

Terrador's eyes shifted between Spyro and Raziela. "Friends, is it?"

"Best...," Raziela squeezed tighter, "friends."

Spyro gently pushed Raziela away from him only to find that Goon had sided next to Cynder, the red feral's arm around her neck. "Yup," Goon said. "We've bonded." He canted his head up at her, his teeth bared in a smile. "Haven't we?"

Cynder inhaled through her nose. She said to Terrador, "They're eccentric." She pushed Goon off her. "In case you haven't noticed."

Terrador grunted. He asked them, "The storm in the distance. Do you know what could have caused it?"

Spyro recollected the recent events, cut the emotion from experience. "There's a new threat now. One that I've been dreaming about for some time."

Terrador read the malady upon Spyro's visage. "Not a dream anymore, is it?"

Spyro shook his head. "A lot's happened in a short time, too much to tell for now, but...A figure called The Black Star is here in Avalar. His power's unlike anything I've ever seen."

Volteer stepped closer. "It rivals even Malefor's?"

"What we experienced with Malefor pales in comparison. This thing...It looks like an ape, but smaller, no muzzle. It can..." His mind still struggled to grasp the concept. "Create and kill, and everything in between."

Volteer asked, "Between?"

"He...Wanted us to do something for him. Something cruel. He said he'd restore Avalar to its previous life, before Malefor."

Cyril barked, "Nonsense! Life's not given that freely."

Spyro's visage grew more somber. "You have no idea the truth of those words."

Cyril's incredulity waned. "What do you mean?"

"Hunter said those same words. When The Black Star came to us he came with two corpses, cheetahmen. Our talk with him made us realize something: he's not purely destruction or life. He wishes for perdition, for the very lowest of life."

Terrador shook his head. "I don't understand."

Spyro sought better wording. "He demonstrated his power, brought new life right in front of our eyes. When we didn't agree to his cause he took it away, but...didn't kill it. Rotted it. The stench..." His stomach churned. "The decomposition. He wants to turn all of Avalar into that. Everyone as bottom feeders."

The three guardians reared their heads. Volteer said to Spyro, "You speak of bottom feeders, the ones who eat the diseased, the already dead. How could he create such a metamorphosis? Such evolution takes millenniums."

"The Black Star's been alive for millenniums. Its knowledge is beyond anything we have." He grew frustrated. To word The Black Star proved more difficult than he realized. "Imagine being a destroyer, drunk with power. Ending entire worlds at your desire. After awhile you'd grow tire of it. You'd fine new ways to destroy, not just physically."

A long, low sigh came from Volteer. "Nuances of death then? Of the spirit?"

Spyro nodded. "The cheetahmen I mentioned: they were parents. He killed them to break their daughter's spirit."

Terrador said in disgust, "Why? Why this evil?"

Cynder voiced her experience. "He's a sadist. He knows suffering. The ferals..." She tilted her head at them. "He wanted us to eat them alive."

Goon muttered, "Yummy."

Terrador said in disbelief, "Alive? In exchange for Avalar's renewal?"

"Yes. But..." Cynder's next words rang with guilt. "Part of us wanted to. Hunter helped sway our decision."

Disapproval did not meet The Guardians' eyes. Terrador said in a condolent voice, "You were in the right. Even if The Black Star had kept true to his word, I doubt it would have been for a greater good. There was evil in that offer, I'm sure of it."

Cyril grunted in agreement. "Yes. Wanted to plant a seed I imagine." After further thought he added, "What else would you have done for an alleged greater good? What other evils for a cause?"

"We don't know," Spyro said. "That's what's tearing us up inside. We've killed before for Avalar."

Cyril pointed out, "You didn't have much of a choice, not to mention your age. No one should have seen the things you two saw. Too young for it. I see it in your eyes." He peered closer at Spyro and chuckled. "You're an old coot around the eyes."

Spyro and Cynder laughed a little. "But..." Spyro continued, "This thing...I'm not sure how to stop it. We tried fighting him and...Nothing, I mean nothing worked. Like grasping at air."

The Guardians' exchanged concerned glances. Terrador said to Spyro, "We've never encountered anything like that before. Have you consulted Ignitus?"

"That's how we figured out about him. The Black Star's the reason Malefor went mad to begin with. He wanted to give Avalar a quick death. Now that I've seen what The Black Star wants..." Spyro grimaced and closed his eyes. "I can understand why."

Cyril huffed, albeit the indignation was a mask before his fear. "Well, we'll need to find someone who's ass isn't warming their hands if we're going to figure this out."

Cynder said, "There is someone, Haedrig. He's a mole that's been able to harness the power of both dragons and crystals."

The mention of dragons rung a discordant tone with the Guardians. Terrador asked, "What do you mean by dragons?"

"The bones," Cynder said. She quickly defended Haedrig. "There was no one there to claim them. He means well, Terrador. We've met him."

Terrador's hardening expression softened. "I see. Perhaps we should combine minds, then."

Spyro nodded in agreement. "My thoughts exactly."

Volteer's eyes brightened as his own thoughts came to voice. "Yes, yes! Collaborative cognition for the sake of survival. I haven't felt this kind of camaraderie in what feels like a century! Dragons and the newly found ferals postulating the possibilities against otherwise insurmountable–"

Raziela, with her ears back, released a staccato, "Mah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah."

The Guardians' turned their heads to her. Volteer said, "Excuse you?"

She sang a mellifluous, "Mah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah."

They looked to Spyro for reasoning. Spyro said to them, "I don't know. That's new."

Goon held his hands out. "Wait, I can translate." He cupped his ear.

Raziela gave another, "Mah-ah-ah-ah."

Goon translated, "Yeah. Yellow dragon with the stupid name. That thing you're doing?"

Volteer said indignantly, "What thing?"

"You know. That thing. Where you open your mouth. And we get a headache?"

"A headache?"

"Yeah, that's needs to stop."

From Raziela came a hateful, "Mah-ah-ah-ah-ah."

Goon sucked his teeth and cringed. "Oh...Can't say that one out loud." He chirped to Volteer, "But I can give you a hint. Involved your mother. Pack of apes." He rolled his shoulders and sucked his teeth again. "Bananas."

Volteer pursed his lips as he mulled over the analogy. "Curious."

"Oh?" Goon said.

"I'm wondering if I can grant the gift of flight to ferals with an ample amount of incline shock to the reproductive area."

It took Goon a moment to process that. "I would need your maternal counterpart to hypothesize."

Spyro put himself between Goon and Volteer. "Alright, calm down. Raziela?"

"Yes?"

"Hit him again." Raziela smacked the male feral, who displayed no regret over his remark. Spyro said to Volteer, "You'll get used to him."

"Is that proven?"

"No idea yet. Anyway, we need to get to Haedrig. There's something I need to bring up to him about The Black Star."

"What is it?" Terrador asked as he periodically glanced at Volteer. The yellow dragon was ready for murder.

Spyro replied, "The Black Star keeps creating this white light."

"A white light?" Terrador asked.

"Not always, but it keeps emanating from his eyes. He..." Spyro shook the vision of the Twins from his head, the cheetahmen parents' amalgamation. "He brought those cheetahmen to life, yet he didn't. He made a monster out of them. That same light came from its eyes. I'm wondering if that's his element showing up."

Volteer said, "Peculiar. A Black Star with the power of light."

"No," Spyro refuted. "It isn't true light, not in the context that we understand it."

Volteer shook his head and raised his upturned paw. "True light? Are we speaking metaphorically or literally?"

"I don't know," Spyro said. "But it's not natural. If we're going to figure it out we'll need Haedrig. He'll have a better idea of what to do."

Terrador sighed, his eyes down as he considered that. After a moment he gave a slight nod. "If there are anymore of these creatures that you speak then it'd be best that we accompany you."

Cyril approved. "You mean I'll actually get to freeze the bollocks off something?" He sighed at the prospect. "Oh I haven't done that in years. One good paw swipe and they shatter like a priceless antique. It's so entertaining."

Raziela turned her head up to Cyril, her ears perked. "Wait...freezing and shattering them?"

"Oh yes!" Cyril said as he began his walk forward. "Never gets old. Especially if there's lava nearby. Just freeze them into a ball and roll them down."

"Huh," Raziela said as he followed him. "That sounds fun!"

"Oh there's many things you can do with the element of ice. Makes for an excellent chilled beverage as well."

Goon and the rest of the dragons stared at the two. Spyro said, "Well...Guess that's our cue to leave." They followed after Cyril and Raziela. Spyro and Cynder moved the front, led the rest of the group along.

Goon sided next to Spyro and looked back at Raziela and Cyril. He muttered, "Well they're hitting it off."

Spyro gave him an oblique glance. "You're talking to me."

"I am."

"Why are you talking to me?"

Goon shot back, "Why are you still talking to me?"

Cynder said to Goon, "You seem to forget that you killed Hunter's kinsmen."

Goon pursed his lips at her. "And you seem to forget that you were going to...Oh gee, I don't know...Eat. Us."

Spyro and Cynder considered that. After a moment Spyro asked Goon, "What would you have done?"

Goon bobbed his head in thought. "Paprika, bit of pepper, some salt..."