Dark Legacy 2: Umbral Visions

by Dardarax

A year has passed since the Dragon Temple was ravaged by the Mad Feran Prince and a well deserved peace has settled upon the realm. But the news of the brief war with the Ferans sparks the interest of an ancient Order whose return marks catastrophe. Conflict brews anew and the new generation of dragons must find their place in the world before it swallows them entirely.

21. The Second Resurrection

Chapter 21: The Second Resurrection

By: Dardarax

Disclaimer: I, Dardarax, do not own Spyro, Cynder, the Guardians, the Dragon Temple, Warfang, Malefor, or any other character or place belonging to the Spyro franchise. Also I am very disappointed in the fact that I did not receive copious amounts of butter during Louis Riel day. I could have used that for my collection of redundant selfies that I have begun collecting for Lyrith's Hatchday. I'm sure that would have somehow changed his opinion on my gift to him. Anyway a number of my own characters, such as Lyrith, belong to me, and their names are listed at the bottom. Now I'm hungry for toast…

With a groan Tirren set down her quill and massaged her paw, aching pain racing through her limb. The kitchen had gone quiet now, as most of the students left a short while ago to enjoy their weekend break out in the gardens. Only a few still remained, each enjoying the quiet in peace.

Tirren took a moment to glance around as she relaxed her writer's cramp, allowing herself a momentary breather. The many tables and cushions were disorganized, not yet having been reset by the staff. The buffet was nearly empty, though both Vash and Sleet were collecting the last scraps for seconds as they chatted with one another. Voltlyn was laughing and giggling along with her old friends, whom Tirren had yet to be introduced to, all three of them not yet having finished their meals. The few other students were ones Tirren wasn't all too familiar with, and she glanced over them with little interest.

Turning back to her work, her eyes fell upon Igneous' face, who sat across from her. He looked up from his nearly finished meal and smiled, his eyes flickering to the page in front of her.

"Are you nearly done?"

Tirren groaned. "My part is nearly finished, though I need to have the others' work if I'm going to finish it."

"You mean they haven't given you it yet?" Igneous frowned. "Don't they know it's due in six days?"

"If they do they don't seem to be worried." Tirren sighed. "Which is frustrating because designing the tool and tying the enchantments together is nearly impossible without the formulas. At least Geocia gave me the earth formula, though the others have yet to do the same for their elements."

Igneous winced and sighed, giving her a comforting smile. "Don't worry, it'll work out. I believe in you, Rin."

Tirren felt a small rise of warmth in her chest and she returned the smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks Iggy. Though I still can't help but feel anxious. My mark depends on my partners, and only half of us seem to care at all."

Igneous gave a helpless shrug, not sure what to say as Tirren looked back down at her papers, tapping a claw as she considered her scribbles. He made to finish up his meal, but started as Tirren abruptly looked up, her eyes focusing on something behind him. Igneous turned around and frowned at the sight of a handsome ice dragon strolling their way, his white fangs sparkling in a huge smile.

"Blitz," Tirren said shortly, her expression stiff.

"My lady." Blitz gave a low bow, though his eyes never met Tirren. "It is so lovely to see you again. I'm sorry it has been so long."

"Yes, though that is a frequent problem when you are hard at work on your project, right Blitz?" Tirren asked, her voice un-emotive and her eyes flat.

"Quite." Blitz laughed. "Speaking of which, my Lady, I am sorry that I am bringing this in two days late. I hope it was not much of a hassle for you." The ice dragon dipped his head into his satchel and produced a leather bound package of paper. Tirren accepted it with a suppressed look of relief, and set it down on the table in front of her.

"Why thank you, Blitz. I am just glad to have it in front of me."

Igneous glanced between them, shuffling uncomfortably as Blitz laughed and sat down uncomfortably close to Tirren.

"I would have brought it to you sooner, my lady" – he smirked – "but I had to attend an important ball with my peers. I did rush to finish it the next day though."

"Of course," Tirren stiffly replied, refusing to look at him, making a show of examining his formula.

"Speaking of which, once you are done, mayhap you can join me at one of those balls? Perhaps this evening?" He raised an eyeridge questioningly.

Igneous cleared his throat and cast his most intimidating glare at Blitz. The ice dragon glanced over to him, smiled, gave a blithe greeting and then turned back to Tirren for her response. Igneous clenched his fangs, a flash of anger seething at being ignored so backhandedly, though he swiftly stifled it.

"No, I have a lot of work to do." Tirren huffed, finally meeting his eyes. "And I have no interest in such affairs, especially with people I do not know."

"Believe me, my lady," he smiled. "The people you would meet there are very friendly, hardly strangers at all."

Tirren sighed and shook her head, frustrated that he entirely ignored the point she had made. She rested her forehead in her paws. "No. I refuse. Now go back to whatever 'business' you were dealing with. I have work to do."

Blitz grimaced at the forcefulness of her response and stood with a sigh. "Of course, Tirren. We shall meet tomorrow to discuss the plans for the assignment, am I correct?"

"You are."

He gave a bow and turned away, starting up a strained, though jaunty whistle as he walked.

Both Igneous and Tirren relaxed, though the green dragoness watched him with a worried look, noticing the stiff way he now held himself. Then she sighed and shook her head, turning back to the work. Igneous cleared his throat once more, trying to look happy, though could not get out the look on her face out of his head.

"Well, at least you got another piece of the formula."

"And thank the ancestors for that," Tirren said with a groan, before settling down to actually read the work. "Sometimes I feel like complaining to the air gets more work done than hassling my partners."

Igneous laughed at that, and a genuine smile touched Tirren's muzzle at the sound. She started to speak again, only to pause, a surprised look crossing her face. Igneous caught it and cocked his head. "What's the matter?"

"Absolutely nothing." Tirren frowned, leaning closer to examine the formula. "It's almost perfect."

Igneous's eyeridges creased in an expression of incredulity and he stood to stand by her side. Tirren pointed to the lines of symbols, showing him what she had seen. "The formula is clear and simple, but works flawlessly. He even compensated for the earth and wind element aspects of the project, leaving openings for the other formula to fit in, something Geocia completely neglected to do. I have hardly any editing to do at all." Tirren shook her head, leaning backwards to rub her eyes, as if to clear a headache. "Maybe I was wrong about him. Late or not, he got the job done, and better than Geocia. Perhaps he's halfway competent after all."

Igneous gave an only slightly forced grin. "Well, he had to qualify for the Guardian classes somehow, right?"

Tirren eyed him with a sardonic smirk, which faltered when she noticed the slight strain on his face. She shrugged. "That is true, though he's still utterly aggravating."

Igneous sat down alongside Tirren, causing her to shift slightly, and focus on the table before her even harder. He watched her go over the work again, and then cross-examine it with her own work. Then he grunted and shook his head. "Um, Tirren?"

"Yeah?" she asked, not looking up from the pages.

"Since you don't have much work to do, how about you take a break and we, um… hang out?"

Tirren paused in her reading and blinked in surprise. Her claws clenched around the quill for a moment as she considered it, and then sighed. She looked up and gave him a smile, nodding as she let out a strained breath.

"Of course, Igneous I would love to. Perhaps taking a break from this would be the best idea."

Igneous's shoulders sagged in relief and he flashed a brilliant white smile. "Great!"

Tirren put down her quill and started to pack. Igneous's smile faded as silence descended between them. He opened his muzzle, trying to think of what to say next, but nothing came out but a tiny squeak of air. Tirren glanced up and raised an eyeridge.

"He's acting so awkward. I wonder what's wrong." A smirk touched Tirren's face. "Almost as badly as I used to act around him. Remember, control is key if you…" Tirren froze, a sudden thought breaking through her internal monologue. "Wait? Is he? Does he?" Red flushed her cheeks and she quickly hurried to hide her expression by 'forgetting to pack something' before he noticed. "No! No! Don't be presumptuous! He's always been a bit awkward. This is probably just an extension of that. Still, maybe be is…" Tirren shook her head ever so slightly. "Just see what he does or says. Don't ask and act normal. You don't want to blow it just yet."

"So, where do you want to go?" Tirren said finally, having 'packed' the last of her things away.

Igneous froze, his chest clenching as he realized he had no idea where they might go. He wrung his brain, trying to leech out something that she would be interested in doing. Tirren felt a glow at the sight of him struggling and the look of desperation, remembering how she had felt in exactly that situation once upon a time.

Then he remembered what Tirren had said the last time they had actually sat down and talked. "How about we go and visit Yeras?" he spouted, tossing the idea out almost before it had crossed his mind.

A cold sliver stabbed into Tirren's chest and her expression momentarily cracked. "No, I guess it was just him being awkward after all." She shrugged, letting the disappointment flow out with a short sigh. "Sure, I was hoping to go talk with her anyway. Do you know where she is right now?"

Igneous flinched, having noticed the momentary flash of disappointment. "Did I do something wrong?" He inwardly groaned, but had no answer. "I think she's with Cynder at the moment. They tend to spend a lot of time together."

Tirren nodded and inhaled deep to fully clear herself. A smile tugged at the corner of her muzzle. At least she'd finally get to learn something. It wasn't every day, nor even lifetime, when one got to visit a dragon that could see into the future. Very few even in the most famous of texts she had read ever had that honour, and with Igneous there she would be sure to at least get that chance, since his family was rather close to her.

"Alright then, let's go," Tirren said briskly as she stood. "I'm quite eager to meet this mysterious friend of your parents."

Igneous felt a cleansing wash of relief at the sound of Tirren's eager voice and stood as well, leaving his dishes on the table. "Their room is on the other side of the Temple, so we should probably fly there…"

…

"Andhere'syourteamissYeras, Cynder." Zindy gave a short bow before prancing back to the tiny table she, Falwee, Cerial, and Viri were seated at, teapot clamped in her jaws. Cynder and Yeras gave their nods of thanks to Zindy as she skipped away, smiles creasing their muzzles as they turned to look at the steaming bowls of tea before them.

Cynder inhaled deeply and sighed, meeting Yeras's face with a smile. "It has been a long time since I've had any tea, Years, but it certainly smells lovely. Thank you for bringing the leaves."

Yeras bowed her head, her own smile touching her blindfolded eyes. "Oh don't Cynder, it is nothing special at all. They're everywhere in Avalar. I only had to step out and pick a few plants and pack them away. Besides, I'm not the one who brewed them."

They both turned their heads over to the small table on a lower platform that Zindy had glided down to. The little lightning dragoness presided over the three younglings, all of who sat upon cushions far too large for them, distributing tea and snacks equally among them. Cerial and Falwee giggled and laughed as they exchanged stories, while beside them Viri fumbled with her bowl, trying and failing to slurp up the tea without spilling. Zindy looked over them happily, occasionally redirecting the conversation when it started to delve into argument or gossip.

Yeras and Cynder had taken their places at the dinner table, seated across from one another. The window behind Cynder was open, letting the sunlight shine through into her and Spyro's room, lighting the large platform that they sat upon. Above them, the chandelier-style bed creaked in the breeze several open windows allowed through, the candles lit at the base casting warmth throughout the room.

Cynder dipped her head and tasted the tea, purring in delight. She turned down and called out her praise to Zindy, who exclaimed her glee in a series of unintelligible sentences. Yeras laughed as Cynder sat back, nodding along and pretending she understood.

"You have collected a great many interesting characters in this academy of yours, Cynder."

A chortle warmed Cynder's voice. "Zindy is among the most colourful, though I'm sure you'll meet plenty of others during your stay."

Yeras gave a non-committal shrug and sipped her own tea. Her expression lit up and she gave her own nod of approval. "Mm, this is very good. Better than even the Hermit's."

Cynder raised an eyeridge, and then a silent 'oh' of recognition crossed her face. "Right! I had forgotten; you were living with that crotchety old badger, weren't you? How is he? As insane as usual?"

Yeras winced and shrunk a bit as Cynder drank down another gulp of her tea. Then she shook herself and forcibly straightened. "He really isn't as bad as you think, Cynder," she insisted, taking a deep breath. "Yes, he was far from friendly toward you that one time, but he was never like that with me or anyone else I know. He can be very considerate at times."

Cynder's muzzle pursed and she leaned back in disbelief. "Right. I'm sure he is."

Yeras sighed deeply and shook her head. Cynder leaned away from the bowl and groaned, rubbing at her eyes with a paw.

"I don't mean to be prickly, Yeras, I'm sorry. It's just… I can't help but feel uncomfortable whenever I think of him. I don't think we would ever be friends, no matter what happened."

Yeras gave a hesitant nod, though could not help but smile at seeing Cynder backtracking. "I suppose that is understandable. As I understand it he has a very bad history with Malefor. Then again, I cannot think of anyone who doesn't." Yeras pressed a smile to her face and laughed. She felt a surge of relief when Cynder laughed weakly alongside her, the black dragoness nodding.

"I suppose that is something we can all get behind. Though I think he has a grudge against me personally."

Yeras gave a shake of her head in disagreement. "No, I don't think that's it, Cynder. I've been with him long enough to hear some of his life. Followers of Malefor destroyed his village, yes, but it was long before you ever were brought in. You had nothing to do with that. Though I do think he met you at some point when you were turned, which is how he knew you."

Cynder was silent for a long moment, her eyes downcast as she considered the tea before her. Yeras waited, stiff on her cushion, for a response.

"I'm sorry, Yeras," Cynder said finally. "But I just think it would be for the best if the two of us never interact. He… has a tendency to bring back the worst memories in me."

Yeras winced but gave a nod of understanding, realizing what Cynder meant. She cleared her throat and decided to try a lighter topic.

"So, Spyro still hasn't taken up the mantle of Guardian, has he?"

Cynder looked up, her emerald eyes twinkling at this. "No, he hasn't. He really isn't interested in that sort of responsibility."

Yeras huffed. "Oh please, he's a hero, it is his job to be responsible."

The black dragoness smirked. "I admit, it would be nice if he bucked up and acted a touch more serious now and again, but it's just not in his nature, and that's why I fell in love with him. He's responsible when he needs to be, and a goofball whenever possible."

Yeras gave a strained smile. "I know, but compared to you and the other Guardians, Inferna excepted, he does hardly any work. He teaches one or two classes and then just loafs around all day. That's not how a hero should act."

Cynder groaned. "Yeras, I understand where you are coming from, but you don't know what he's been through, not really. I barely do. He went from playing tag in the woods with his brother, thinking he was a dragonfly, to butchering apes and burning them alive as the prophesied dragon of legend and only hope for the world, and he did this transition in the span of a few hours and at the age of thirteen. That couldn't have been easy. In mere moments he had monumental responsibility hefted upon his shoulders, when he never asked for it, and had to carry the world on his back for the entire journey. You and I have always had responsibility and danger heaped upon us; we never had a transition to make. Spyro never wanted to be a hero; he simply had to for everyone else's sake. He just refused to complain."

Yeras pursed her muzzle and gave a terse nod. Somehow every conversation she started was turning back to the war, regardless her intention.

"So he's doing now what he always wanted to do," Cynder smiled, her eyes distant. "He wants to live on as carefree as possible and just have fun. Ancestors, how I wish I could just let go like that sometimes."

"Speaking of which, how is Sparx doing?" Yeras finished her bowl of tea. "I haven't seen him around lately."

Cynder grinned at the thought of the smart-mouthed dragonfly. "Oh, flashbulb? He's back in the swamp, tending to his family and telling stories of his 'heroism' to his grandkids. He drops in now and again to visit, but he's starting to have difficulty making the trip." Cynder's smile faltered for a moment. "I don't know how much longer he has, to be honest. Spyro refuses to acknowledge it, but dragonflies do have drastically shorter lives than we do. Sparx may only have a few more years left in him. He was already almost a fully mature adult by the time he left with Spyro on the journey, despite how immature he acted."

"I'm sure he has a dozen more left in him." Yeras gave a comforting smile. "He's a tough rascal, even for a coward. He'll pull through even if just to spite fate and find a few more yarns to spin."

Cynder's smile returned, much to Yeras' relief, and she broke into a laugh. "Oh I can see him doing that alright. I'm sure his final words will be some sort of smarmy insult to death, or some sort of practical joke on his family. He could never go out without some sort of bang."

"Exactly!" Yeras beamed.

There was a clatter of dishes below and Yeras and Cynder looked down, to see Zindy picking up the bowl that Viri had spilled, having been pushed over by the hatchling blood dragon's awkwardly large head and paws.

Cynder snickered at the sight and her eyes flickered up to Yeras with a grin. "Speaking of children and grandchildren, what are you going to do with Viri?"

Yeras paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what sort of life are you going to try to build for her, now that you are her mother?" Cynder asked, finishing off her own bowl of tea.

Yeras bit her tongue as a swell of anxiety erupted in her chest. She shuffled her paws and turned her head away, even though it had no effect on her vision of Cynder gazing at her with scrutiny.

"I don't know," She admitted after a moment of silence. "I really don't know. I love her, but I can't provide a very good life for her. I'm an outcast, and I always will be. She will be too, but that can be changed. Dragon society seems to be evolving to become more accepting. After all, albinos are getting into the Temple now, right?"

Cynder nodded, a smirk of pride creasing her muzzle. "Inferna was very daring to bring Lyrith here, but I think it was for the best."

Yeras nodded and smiled. "While I may never get a chance, she might. If she lives out in the wilds with me, she won't grow up socializing like proper dragons should. She won't have those opportunities."

Cynder felt a frown grow along her brow. "What are you getting at, Yeras?"

Yeras took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I… I wonder sometimes if I should give her up, if I should find a better, more capable family to raise her. Someone who will give her the opportunities she deserves."

Cynder set down her bowl stiffly and gave Yeras an even stare. "It would be better if you simply stayed here and raised her at the Temple, instead of doing something so drastic, Yeras. You will make an amazing mother."

Yeras flushed lightly at this but shook her head. "Are you sure? I mean I'm not exactly role model material, Cynder. I don't have anything I can really provide for her."

"Don't," Cynder said, rising from her cushion. "Don't say that. Don't put yourself down. Viri is a young blood dragon, and that will make things difficult for her in the future. She will need someone who can help her get through that. Someone who is kind, responsible, open-minded, and who can relate to the problems she will face. You are the perfect mother for her. Don't you dare think otherwise!"

Yeras shrunk and looked down, shamefaced, though a tiny spark of pride fluttered up through the shame at the encouraging words. She gave a meek nod, and opened her muzzle to respond. A loud knock sounded at the entrance far below.

Cynder and Yeras' eyes met, and Yeras started to ask if Cynder had any visitors, when Zindy shouted from below. "I'llgetit!"

The small yellow dragoness turned before anyone could argue and clambered down the small stairways connecting the platforms that made up Spyro and Cynder's chamber, She slowly descended to the study towards the entrance Cynder and Yeras settled back to watch, wondering who could be at the door.

They listened as the door creaked open, the hinges groaning from the small amount of pressure Zindy was able to throw against it, and then started as she let out a shrill giggle.

"Tirren! Iggy! I'msogladtoseeyouhow'veyoubeenIhaven't seenyouinalongtime!"

"Oh, hello Zindy," Tirren laughed, rising from where she sat outside the door. "I didn't expect to see you here… and you're right, we haven't spoken nearly enough. What classes have you taken? I haven't seen you in any?"

"Oh, grandpa'steachingmehimself!" Zindy beamed. Then her joyous expression darkened and she sighed. "Though I don't get to spend nearly as much time here as I would like. Daddy insists I spend every other week at home now…"

The emerald draken frowned and glanced over to Igneous, who gave a helpless shrug. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Well, at least you get to spend some time with your family. I haven't seen mine in months now."

Zindy brightened. "That'strue! Though daddy's always grumpy… still, seeingmomagainsooftenisamazing!"

Tirren nodded and then glanced around at the study. "Is Cynder here? I was hoping to talk with her."

Above Cynder straightened, a curious flicker shooting across her expression. Zindy gave a short bounce and nodded. "Yes! I wasjustserving teatoherandmissYeras!"

"Great!" Tirren beamed. She coughed and then raised her voice, calling out to the open air. "May I come in, Lady Cynder? It's Tirren, I was hoping to speak with you and Miss Yeras!"

Cynder glanced to Yeras, who shied away for a moment, before collecting herself and giving a hesitant nod.

"Come on in, Tirren. We are on the fourth platform up."

Tirren gave a sigh of relief and turned to Igneous, who gestured for her to go in first. Zindy limply skipped in, to give them room and they stepped inside. Tirren looked to Zindy and asked if she wanted some help getting back up to her platform, but she shook her head and said that walking was fine with her. Tirren shrugged, started to unfurl her wings and then paused. Zindy looked back at her as she prepared to take off, her eyes beginning to mist over. Tirren cleared her throat and she and Igneous agreed they'd walk up with her.

Zindy beamed and took to the stairs, heaving her way up, each movement a struggle. Tirren grimaced at the sight and followed up a short distance away, keeping slow so she wouldn't feel pressured. Zindy was almost up to the first platform when her leg gave out and Zindy cried out in alarm. She started to tumble backwards but Tirren jumped forward, catching her on her shoulder and supporting her.

Zindy quivered against Tirren for a moment, before she burst into a sniffling display of tears. Tirren shut her eyes and held her for a moment, before helping her back onto her paws and nudging her flank fondly.

"Keep on going, Zindy," she murmured softly. "I'm hear to catch you if you need me."

Zindy sniffed again, tears still trickling down her eyes, but she managed a smile. "Thanks Rin." She returned the nudge, and began hauling herself up each step once more.

It took a minute or two, but they eventually shambled up to the fourth platform. They greeted the three younglings on the way up, Tirren starting at the sight of Viri and her huge fluffy ears. Tirren shook her head and snickered, greeted the little blood dragon cautiously, and then resumed her climb up; Igneous stopped for a little while to play with his younger sister and ensure Zindy was all right, deciding to help serve some tea to the little dragonlings. Tirren reached the top and sat down with Cynder and Years with a huff.

Yeras did not look her way, though that did not surprise Tirren due to the blindfold over her eyes. Yeras perked up as Tirren sat down, and tilted her head as if examining her, even though she was looking away.

"What brings you here, Tirren?" Cynder asked, successfully drawing Tirren's eyes away from Yeras. "Is this about your homework? Or something else?"

Tirren gave a half smile and a bow of her head. "Nothing to do with homework, fortunately. Though I do have a few questions that I'm hoping to ask."

Yeras took a deep breath and finally spoke. "And they involve me?"

The emerald draken smiled. "Yes actually. You're the main reason I'm here. Igneous and Savron told me a few stories about you, or what they heard about you, and I'm dying to hear your side of it."

"Oh." Yeras flushed even deeper. "Well…" she looked to Cynder, her entire body as rigid as a frozen flank of meat. Cynder cleared her throat, forcing Tirren's eyes back to her own, and she tilted her head questioningly.

"That would depend on the questions."

Yeras nodded in agreement. Tirren paused, and then gave an assenting bow of her head. "Of course, I understand. It would be inappropriate to ask anything too personal. One question might hinge on that, but the other is the most pressing one."

"I'll tell you if we can't answer." Cynder gave an encouraging smile. Tirren returned it, gratefully. She took a deep breath, and then began.

"I was curious how the two of you met and became friends. That is the personal one. I was also curious about the Second Resurrection. I heard you played a part in it, Yeras, that you helped Spyro with his visions."

Cynder looked to Yeras, who had sunk into her cushion, her expression of relief still tinged with a small amount of anxiety. "Oh, that's all? I think those are fair questions, don't you?"

Yeras gave a hesitant nod and a faint, strained smile. "I think I am alright with those."

"Do you want to tell the story of how we met? Or should I?"

Yeras inhaled and then smiled. "I think I can, Cynder. You don't need to worry about me."

Igneous finally stepped up onto the fourth platform and gave a nod to both Cynder and Yeras. They greeted him fondly as he sat down next to Tirren,

"It's good to meet you again, Igneous," Yeras said with a tip of her head. "I'm glad to know you remember me."

"I don't know why you would think I'd forget." Igneous chuckled. "I'm not like Savron, who was too busy exploring under the tables and rifling through furniture to sit down and talk, even when I was that young."

Both Yeras and Cynder laughed, the image of a young Savron bounding around the room and overturning everything in sight all too poignant.

"Well, I think you know this story. So you don't mind hearing it again?" Yeras asked as the laughter died away.

Igneous shrugged. "I know parts of it, but I don't think I ever heard either story in full. I'm pretty curious myself."

"Well, there really isn't that much to tell," Yeras admitted with a shrug and an apologetic smile. "At least regarding how Cynder and I met. I was a refugee that arrived in Warfang about a year after Malefor was defeated. I was not looked very well upon by the other dragons, or even most of the non-dragons, thanks to my corruption, and I struggled with a lot of harassment and threats by the populace. Cynder and I happened across one another when she was visiting Warfang. I was being threatened by a group of thugs at the time and she came to my rescue. She took me under her wing and helped me get through my dilemma. We grew close. We were there for each other during those hard times, since both of us were under constant attacks and criticism from those around us, though she helped me more than I helped her."

"You were a bit of a hassle at times," Cynder gave a teasing smirk. Then she sighed and sobered up. "Though in all seriousness, don't put yourself down like that. You aren't beholden to me, Yeras, and you know that."

"Perhaps, but I still do owe a lot to you." Years beamed. "Besides, by the time the Temple was rebuilt you had plenty of other friends besides me, while I didn't have any. You really didn't need me as much as I needed you."

Cynder groaned. "Dammit, you never listen do you."

Tirren rattled her claws against the table, her head cocked in confusion. "You make your friendship sound so… simple."

Cynder barked a laugh. "Not all lasting relationships are forged out of great adversity. We had difficulties with society and we dealt with them together, with the aid of the Guardians and Spyro. As much pressure as mass hatred puts on you, it is nothing when you receive the support of close friends and loved ones."

Tirren could not help but smile at this, beside her she could see Igneous smiling as well, his eyes turning briefly towards her before returning to Yeras and Cynder. There was a small cough next to them and they turned to find Zindy with another two bowls and a teapot in her jaws. She poured each of them another batch of tea, and then skipped down back to her young companions, to resume chattering.

Tirren took a deep gulp and sighed, remembering the last time she had tea with her brother, the warmth in her chest flowering even further.

"As for the Second Resurrection…" Yeras continued finally, raising her head from her bowl. "I was not there for most of it… just the beginning. I'm really not the best one to tell that story."

Cynder smirked. "Passing that torch onto me now, hm? Alright, fine. It's been too long since I've had a chance to tell a good, epic story. But first I suppose we should explain a few things before getting to the juicy bits."

Tirren and Igneous settled back, looking up at the black dragoness, eager expressions etched onto their snouts.

"It all started with a horrible nightmare, dreamt by Spyro, not a few days after our first egg was lain." Cynder paused, her muzzle tightening in sadness at the thought of the lost child. The she shook her head and returned to the topic at hand, her voice going low and taking on a mysterious quality. "He had a vision, a vision of Malefor rising again, seated upon a throne of stone deep within a mountain, surrounded by dark-robed figures. He had this dream repeatedly for days, each one hazy, but growing clearer and more painful. At first none of us believed him, thinking he was just paranoid that Malefor would return. But then, during one of Yeras' visits, she sensed a strange force dwelling with him."

"It wasn't very strong" – Yeras joined in, knowing that this part would be better told from her perspective – "since Spyro isn't a very powerful seer, but his connection to Malefor as his rival made this vision possible. I could sense fate spinning about him, twisting into a knot. I knew something was wrong."

"We tried to encourage the dreams," Cynder continued, giving a nod of thanks to Yeras. "to make them clearer. If he was having a true prophetic dream, we had to know details. With Yeras's help, we slowly strengthened his vision, until we learned that Malefor was indeed going to rise, and soon."

"After nearly a month, we finally discovered the location of where he was likely to rise, a forgotten Poison Dragon Temple in the mountains to the north of Warfang. Unfortunately not everyone was eager to join us. Many of the nobles, all of whom were still vying for the position of king at the time, and did not want to believe that Malefor would rise again so soon after his defeat. They claimed that we were trying to stir up the populace to unite under us so we may claim power for ourselves. Even with Spyro's and the Guardian's word, most refused to listen. We did manage to rally a few to our cause though. Several forward thinking and paranoid nobles led by Pyron, who was not yet king, joined us and gave us their best soldiers. We did not care for motivations, and we accepted the help even knowing that some of the nobles were using us for a chance at gaining more influence in the growing kingdom. What mattered was that we stop Malefor before he rose again. So our story begins, with us beginning our march, mere hours before we believed Malefor would be resurrected…"

…

A chill wind brushed the snow-capped mountains with wispy fingers, causing motes of snow to swirl up through the dusk air like cold, white sparks. The heavy shroud of snow stifled the footsteps of the soldiers as the army marched upwards towards the peak. The cold was agonizing, seeping easily through the protective layering of fur under my chain armour to bite my scales. I kept close to Spyro, who radiated waves of heat as he drew upon his fire element.

I eyed the mouth of the cave before us with concern: it looked almost identical to a hungry maw waiting to gobble all of the little soldiers up the moment we stepped inside. In fact, it was almost the very picture of every terrifying cave one can find in storybooks, a thought which amused me somewhat as we came to a halt before it. I looked to the Guardians; Terrador, Volteer, Cyril, and the newly chosen Inferna were suited up in armour similar to my own, though perhaps more bulky in design, as they favoured plates of metal to simple chain. Behind us stood the long line of soldiers, all bundled in fur and hardened leather armour, to better resist the cold as it sought out every patch of exposed flesh to dig into.

They numbered only a few hundred strong, but were the largest force we could muster, given the sorry state of civilization. Few had wanted to join the little crusade we had founded, and it was not hard to understand why: nobody wanted to return to fighting so soon after the war had ended.

"Yet here we are," I said aloud as Terrador called for us to gather. "Back to fighting once more, and against the same foe all over again."

Beside me Spyro nodded in agreement, seeming to have been mirroring my thoughts, a grimace etched onto his handsome muzzle. Inferna dropped a few branches of wood and lit them with a snort of flame, to give us a small amount of warmth while we spoke. I joined the Guardians and looked back to the army, to watch them fan out around the entrance of the cave, mobilizing quickly as Lord Pyron barked out orders. Once everyone was in place, the large, black-horned drake loped over to the fire, his eyes never leaving the cave.

"You are certain that this is the place?" he demanded, finally tearing his gaze away to glare at Spyro and Yeras, who stood a short distance back from me. She and Spyro nodded, head turned to the mountain, her covered eyes seeming to pierce through the stone itself.

"I know that's it," Spyro insisted. "I remember it so clearly…"

Yeras grimaced. "I have never been more certain. It was the clearest vision we ever had."

"And Malefor is in there?"

"We would not have come here if we were not certain of this." Cyril gave a firm nod in Yeras's direction, along with a wan, but comforting smile. "We have every reason to believe their visions. They've been very consistent."

Pyron huffed, momentarily sagging before he forced himself back into a confident posture. "And has he been resurrected yet? Or do we still have time?"

I gave a dry, bitter grin. "Well, since there haven't been any sightings of a purple dragon razing villages and using the devoured souls of those he's slain to create an army, I think we have a bit of time."

I smirked as the Guardians all winced at my description, though it left a somewhat bitter taste in my muzzle.

Yeras gave a slow nod, her muzzle pursed tightly together. "I sense a powerful source of convexity within, though I cannot tell if it's from Malefor or some other source. I'm not sure Malefor has been fully reborn or if his spirit simply lingers here, waiting."

"Either way we need to put a stop to this," Spyro declared, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the shrine. "Every moment we aren't taking action is another that Malefor is closer to returning to life. We can't risk him escaping out into the world to start the entire war over again."

"Precisely." Volteer gave a nod of agreement.

"As much as I would like to advise caution, so we may plan our strategy" – Cyril stepped up alongside Spyro, to glare proudly into the darkness – "we should press onwards. We have neither the time to deliberate, nor the information on what is inside to properly plan. A full assault may be our best option, even if it is just to delay or stop the ritual."

Terrador nodded, his eyes hard.

I looked between them, a flare of hope lighting in my chest, before resolve steeled me.

Pyron gave a nod and turned to the soldiers, to shout out a brief speech. He spoke of how they were the bravest of soldiers for taking on this momentous task, and how every one of them would be hailed a hero for confronting this threat when no one else would. A resounding cheer shook the mountain and Pyron turned to the open cave, his voice booming.

"Squadron three and six, spread out and advance. Keep an eye out for traps or ambushes!"

Several dozen soldiers broke off of the main force and pressed forward, earth dragons at the lead and cheetah archers at the rear. I peered into the darkness as green energy pulsed out of the earth dragons, testing the cave for any sign of odd layouts or figures that might indicate a trap within. After half a minute of searching, Pyron motioned for the rest of the army to follow and the column began its march. Spyro and I joined the force, taking our places in the middle but forward towards the front. The Guardians spread themselves out, so that they could support the entirety of the army if their power was needed.

We entered the cave, the fire dragons lighting torches for the cheetahs and canines to carry inside. It was shockingly large, easily able to fit the entirety of the force inside. I squinted and tried to peer deeper into the darkness. Even with my power over shadow, and the torchlight shining all around us it was difficult to make out anything within, save for the hundreds of stalagmites that could easily serve as hiding spots for the enemy.

The muffled march of the soldiers echoed through the tunnel, though there was little other noise. Everyone was silent, muzzles clamped shut in anticipation for whatever would inevitably leap out at us.

The earth dragons ahead came to a halt, and a murmur ran through the army. I could distinctly make out the word 'slope' through the mumble.

I turned to Spyro with a grimace. "This would be a perfect spot for a trap."

He nodded. "I think it goes down from here. If Terrador's lessons were anything to go by, they'd wait for us to be halfway down the slope and then drop boulders down behind us. There'd be nowhere to run but forward, into another trap."

I gave a curt grunt. "Of course that would mean there would be traps already in place up there." I looked up at the ceiling.

"I think they thought the same." Spyro gestured to a group of a dozen dragons flying up to the roof, to investigate.

"Three holes!" came a voice from above. "Each with a boulder the size of an adult drake! There's nobody up here though!"

I frowned at that. "No sentries? What's going on?"

"Maybe they don't know we're here?" Spyro suggested with an optimistic smile.

"Or maybe they aren't here at all," came a grumble from Pyron a short distance away. "Or perhaps they are waiting for the right time to strike."

"I was thinking the latter," I huffed. I looked to Yeras, who was keeping close to Spyro and me. "What do you think?"

Yeras gave a grim nod. "I agree with you. There is something in this place. I can feel it crawling over my scales." She shuddered.

"Blockade the holes with walls of stone!" Pyron shouted upwards. "And then stay there to guard them! Make sure nobody gets through the walls with magic to set it off! Earth dragons, take up the rear, in case that trap or another goes off. Terrador, you take the front, to make up for the lack."

The warriors rearranged and then the march began again, this time with considerably more trepidation. I looked to Yeras, and stayed close, to ensure she wouldn't get lost among the bodies. The slope down was steep, and we had to take care with our footing. It was slow going, but eventually the slope leveled off and we found ourselves in an open, torch-lit cavern.

We were instantly alert, and I scanned the shadowy crevices for any sign of life, calling upon my shadow element to search the dark for whatever might be out there. I found nothing. I was about to relax, when beside me Yeras gasped and looked up. I followed her gaze and went stiff with surprise. A thick, acrid blue fog was descending from the ceiling, onto the force.

Spyro shouted a warning, having seen it as well. I inhaled as deep as I could and let loose a powerful gust of wind, sweeping it in as wide a swath as possible to blow it away. It wasn't as successful as I had hoped it would be. The blast of wind momentarily cleared a large gap of clear air in the mist, but the rest merely swirled and continued descending, weighing heavily upon the soldiers like a thick blanket. The mist began to draw close again, and within I could hear the choking and gasping of the soldiers.

I cursed a number of vulgarities that, made even Terrador blush, a fact which gave me a momentary spark of pleasure. I turned to my wide-eyed Spyro.

"Try and make as large a windwall as you can!" I shouted, forming one around myself. "We need to get the mist out of here!"

Yeras grabbed my wing with her jaws and pulled hard to get my attention. "It's no good! They'll make more!"

"They?" I followed her gaze upwards. Above us were many scores of glowing eyes clinging to the roof. Fountains of blue mist gushed from the crevices the figures were hiding in, to thicken the cloud and fill the holes that the few wind dragons in the army were making.

Beside us, Pyron gasped and choked, coughing up blue sludge as he tumbled to the ground. Beside him, Commander Aephion was trying to hold the mist back, to keep Pyron from inhaling more. More began to fall, the soldiers collapsing and writhing on the ground as the mist congealed around them. Even Terrador, Cyril, Volteer, and Inferna collapsed, despite their best efforts to cover their snouts.

Then, my heart stopped as I heard a distant boom and the rumble of stone rapidly approaching.

"Spyro!" I shouted. "You have to go deal with the boulders!"

"I got it!" he gave a nod and turned to the incline. I paused and then shouted after him.

"If you inhale any of the mist, try using your poison element the way I taught you! You can develop an antidote for yourself if you give it a bit of focus!"

I don't know if he heard me, as he had already disappeared into the mist, a green glow surrounding his body. I turned to Yeras and tried to look as confident as possible.

"I didn't want to do this so early on, but it looks like I will have to," I said as I dug deep, to grasp the power of the fury within. I let the air shield fall from around my front and inhaled the poison deep, but kept the back of the barrier strong to protect Yeras. I gasped and resisted the urge to choke as I felt the mist fill my lungs, congealing into a thick, burning fluid within. It took all my power, but I managed to avoid vomiting it up and let loose with my poison fury.

The blue mist around me vanished in the wake of the green flash. I couldn't help but give a smug smirk as the mist around me burnt away, the fury travelling through it like a wild-fire through a field of dry wheat. Within seconds the mist around us was gone, though the fury did not stop, travelling up through the towers of poison into the crevices, burning away every last instance of the vapor. Then it all came back to me.

The blue tinged fury was pulled back, drawn towards me like water towards a drain. I shut my eyes tight as it struck me full force, filling me with every last drop of the venom that they had unleashed upon the army.

If I hadn't been in the middle of a fury, that much poison would have instantly killed me a hundred times over, but the churning energy was not yet done. The magic did battle with itself, fighting for dominance. I won. The mist altered, forcibly changed into a tool of my own desire: an antidote. The sludge that had congealed within my own lungs dissolved, and I let out a puff of yellow fog as I coughed it up. Then, with a smirk, I let the last of the fury loose.

My roar shook the cave and the entire place was filled with the yellow fog, enough to cure ten times the people here. Just in time to hear the deafening boom of the boulders crashing against whatever barrier Spyro had thrown up against them. I winced, and waited in the mist, though the sound of rumbling had stopped. I gave a sigh of relief and took a step forward, only to stagger. Yeras caught me, and I mumbled a thanks.

The coughing, wheezing soldiers around began hacking and gagging, spitting up the dissolved poison that had begun to seize control of their nervous systems. They looked around with dazed expressions. I took a deep breath, relieved to see that it worked.

A furious screech rose from above and I sighed; it did not look like we'd be getting a break for even a moment. I glanced up, my fangs peeling back from my muzzle as the poison dragons descended.

It was my first time encountering the Stry-kier, or Stryker as many refer to them, though I knew them by reputation. They are notorious hunters and savages from the most desolate parts of the world. They scavenge in deserts, the peaks of mountains, and the desolate badlands around the Well of Souls, and are easily capable of outstripping the most terrifying of predators thanks to their mastery over poison. They are one of the ten prime dragons in the world, though they are by far the strangest race to share the true-dragon bloodline. They are smaller and thinner than most adult dragons, though no less powerful and muscular. Their heads are flat and hornless – almost serpentine – with small scales in many exotic patterns and colours. The nape of their necks flare out, making their heads appear much larger than they actually are. Four large beetle-like wings sprout from their backs, from under a carapace that covered their backs, and their prehensile tails ends with a long stinger, ready to impale any who got too close. They are undeniably dragons, however, despite the abnormal features and overlarge fangs, as their control over elements is identical to ours, and their body shape is still almost exact.

A full dozen of them dove towards me, their wings humming and stingers extended out before them to try and impale me. I pulled Yeras behind me and blasted a gust of wind towards them, forcing them to veer off and hover around me. The thrum of their rapidly beating wings sent the dust laying upon the ground soaring up into the air. I brushed the dust away from my eyes with more wind magic, and glanced around the battlefield to weigh my options.

They were vastly outnumbered, with only fifty to our several hundred, yet their ambush gave them the upper paw. We were still recovering from the poison, and completely open to their attack. Worse yet, they only land a single scratch in order to kill or immobilize. It was entirely possible that we could lose more than half our force or more to this one assault. There was still hope, however: the poison dragons were scattered and surrounded on all sides. While mobile they would not have much chance if boxed in, and if forced to fight heavily armoured opponents their element would be rendered almost useless. We'd need to act fast, but our allies might not realize this until they have already escaped with dozens of lives taken.

I took a deep breath and braced myself as the Stry-kier hurtled towards me, screaming a battle-cry. I waited as it got near, and then spun out of the way, to breathe a wash of shadow-fire around myself, setting all of them ablaze. They landed hard, screaming as the black fire began to eat through their thin scales and insectoid wings, leaving them open to the blade of my tail. Of the dozen, only three escaped, managing to put out the flame and flee, soaring upwards to regroup. I decided against pursuing, as tempting as it was.

I found Pyron as quickly as I could, and discovered that he had mostly regained his breath. I explained to him the situation, that he needed to get more heavily armoured soldiers to fight the Strykers, as they were the only ones likely to survive a few hits, and they needed to organize. He did not even question me, which surprised me at the time given my still tense history with the dragon race, and began issuing orders.

The screams began, the poison dragons tearing into the force around them; each drop of blood spilt was a death knell for the poor wretch who was so inflicted. I dove towards the nearest group of Strykers, hurling myself forward with wind to get above the army. I landed behind the roaring poison dragons and tore into them like they were doing to our own soldiers. I could see Spyro joining the fray as well, having sealed the exit up with a massive slab of stone to block the boulders. The army was rallying to Pyron's orders as well, the most armoured units moving to confront the poison dragons head on. The acidic spray was problematic, but faced with such durable opponents the Strykers were forced to change tactics, leaving them open to the many other soldiers nearby.

I turned to find Inferna slip up to me and come to a stop, panting hard.

"We have a problem." She huffed, her thin, flame-patterned sides heaving.

"I can tell," I snapped back, my nerves rapidly fraying.

"No, not that. That." Inferna turned to face the pathway in front of them. I glanced over her shoulder and felt a chill run through my body. Marching towards us was a wall of black and purple-cloaked figures, mostly wolves, hyenas, or coyotes, but with a few dragons mixed among them. They were some two hundred strong, and all of them carried weapons that pulsed with magic or staves carved with searing runes.

I turned to Inferna with a panicked gaze, but she gave me a tight smile. "Now that you've bruised your jaw on the ground, we need to make a decision."

"What do you mean?"

"Terrador is gathering the troops at the front to meet the force head on. We are trapped and not able to get anywhere. But there is a more pressing matter at paw."

"Malefor." I grimaced upon speaking the name.

"Volteer thinks that if they are throwing this many at us all at once instead of pacing out the ambushes and wearing us down in their home-turf, they must really want to stop us right now. He thinks the ritual must be started or at a crucial stage."

"What's the plan?" I asked, eyeing the soldiers approaching cautiously.

"I think you should sneak in behind them and try and stop the ritual while the majority of them are distracted here."

I hesitated. It was a good plan. We could slip in and deal with whatever minor resistance was in the way without being slowed. Spyro and I could easily do it alone, using the shadow magic I had been teaching him, and we could stop the resurrection before it could finish. However doing so would leave the army without our support, and many lives would likely be lost.

"What if you encounter another trap like the last one?" I asked, my muzzle dry at the thought of what would happen if I hadn't been there.

"We'll think of something," Inferna shook her head. "Cyn, this is so much more important than that. We're here to support you, not the other way around. You are the only ones who can deal with Malefor if he rises. You have to make sure that he either doesn't rise, or that he doesn't leave this place alive."

I couldn't help but agree with that, and gave a hesitant nod. "You sure you can handle these guys?"

There was a boom as an explosion rocked the front ranks of our small army, and I winced. I glanced over with concern, only to see that a rock wall had formed right where the explosion was to hit, stopping most of the damage. I smiled.

"I think we'll be fine," Inferna laughed. "Now go and get Spyro! And make sure to kick some ass for me, alright?"

I gave a nod and dove into my shadow, seeking out Spyro who was busy helping mop up the last of the poison dragons. I told him what was happening and he reluctantly agreed. We raced to the front and dove into our shadows, skimming along the walls of the cave as fast as we were able to, all the while watching the cultists advance.

The sounds of battle ran in the distance and I struggled to keep from going back to help. I really didn't like the idea of leaving them alone for a fight, no matter how capable. Spyro seemed to agree with me, but we pressed on regardless, into the darkness of the tunnel.

We did not have to go far, and within a few turns we found ourselves facing a large stone edifice, with a massive archway leading further in. A pair of armoured dragons stood at the gate, shifting anxiously as if wanting to rush forward and join the sounds of battle further ahead. Spyro and I slipped in behind them and took them out with a burst of shadows and a flurry of claw strikes to the back of the head. They fell with a clatter, muffled by a burst of sound magic from Spyro. He staggered, blinking what I presumed were stars from his eyes from the strain of holding such an unfamiliar element for so long.

I scoured the guards and produced a few bags of green gems. We devoured them and then turned to the gate, fully refreshed. I took the lead, eyeing every inch of the area around me in search of some sort of trap. There was none, likely thanks to the small army that was forced to march out of it not a few minutes before.

The interior was strange, yet oddly familiar. The walls and statuary were comprised of roughly carved stone, simple and plain in design to the point of utter minimalism. It was old, easily as old, if not older, than the dragon Temple from the first war. Spyro and I couldn't help but marvel at it, despite the simplicity, and wonder what exactly this place was. Later, after speaking with Cyril and Terrador, I learned that it was likely an old Shrine used by the Stry-kier in the worship of their idols. We believe that Malefor and his servants appropriated it and used his and his cultists' power to convince them he was a new god to their people, which is why they served him so readily.

Spyro and I were forced to hide among the statues as more cultists rushed past, to reinforce the gate and their allies. There were only a dozen of them, and while we could have defeated them we decided to continue forward as swiftly as possible. Undue fighting would only delay our mission. Then, as the cultists turned the corner, I gave a silent curse, remembering that we had left the guards at the gate out in the open in our haste to get inside. I turned to Spyro but he seemed to realize it as well. With a strained nod, we turned and hustled down the main hallway.

There were many side passages and rooms branching off of the main hall, but we pressed on, hoping that our theory of the ritual chamber being located in a main chamber, such as an altar room. Ahead of us we could just make out the end of the hall: a massive iron-wrought door, which was bolted shut. We hurried forward, sure that this was what we were looking for, only for a flash of light to catch my eye.

"Spyro! Wait!" I shouted, screeching to a halt as quickly as I could. Spyro glanced back and slowed, just stopping shy of the many runes painted to the walls, ceiling and floor of the hall ahead. I jumped forward and dragged him back, hardly able to believe how close we'd just come to death. Spyro seemed to follow my eyes and inhaled sharply, seeing the glow of magic off of them.

"That was close," he let loose a relieved huff, and gave me a thankful smile. "I… I can't believe I didn't notice them…"

"Same," I muttered as I eyed the eyed the runes cautiously. I had absolutely no idea what any of it did. Our rudimentary knowledge of spellcraft at the time did not prepare me for the sheer complexity of the trap before us. There were multiple layers of enchantments, all of them intertwined in multiple dimensions of interconnectivity with every other enchantment. It seemed that each rune was a spell that was set to go off at a different time, place, and occasion than any of the others. I had no idea where the magic began or ended, as it was all woven seamlessly together. What I did know is that if anything were to step near that doorway, there would not even be dust left behind.

Spyro and I took a few more steps back, not wanting to be anywhere near the trap in case it went off. Then, before our eyes, the runes vanished. We blinked and stepped forward, only for them to reappear, appearing on the stone as if a layer of dirt had just been washed away.

"Well, that explains why we couldn't see them at any rate," Spyro muttered. "It looks like some sort of… chameleon charm in the area."

"Whoever designed this really wanted this to be the perfect deathtrap," I agreed. "Which means there's another way around. We don't have time to try and decode and undo these runes."

Spyro glanced around and picked out a nearby chamber that was locked and barred with steel, appearing entirely out of place against the old, worn stone.

"That one looks promising. Aside from the big one, no other door is locked like that."

I nodded in agreement. We paused a moment to carve a clear warning into the ground, so that our allies would not fall for the trap if they did manage to catch up. Then we slipped into our shadows and under the door, there being just enough room under it to pull off the trick. We found ourselves standing in a short hallway, which was filled with a foul, sickly, familiar smoke. I choked at the smell, and vivid memories flashed through my mind of a time I had hoped I'd forgotten: Burning cities, countless dead, and lakes of blood.

A blast of wind forced the smoke back and I looked up at Spyro with gratitude. He appeared somewhat green himself. We turned to the door on the far side of hall, from which the smoke was billowing out, and cautiously we approached. It was not reinforced like the one we had emerged out from under, though was heavy-set and bolted shut. Smoke trickled out from the slot and bars at eye view. Spyro and I glanced at one another, to gather ourselves before he struck the door, a pulse of green energy knocking it from its hinges.

Inside was a large prison, filled with dozens of cells. Spyro's face paled and I swallowed back bile. Within each cell there was a still-smoldering carcass of a dragon, chained to the ground and huddled up, as if to try and protect itself. The floor around each was black and smoking, and the bars still gave off a faint glow from whatever had caused this.

I felt myself take a step forward, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight before me. Behind me I heard Spyro speak in a hoarse whisper, asking why they would slaughter prisoners like this; was it to keep them from divulging their secrets? I tried to answer, but found nothing coming out of my throat. I shook my head, and then looked back. A frown creased my muzzle.

Each of the cells was decorated, at least in some fashion, though none were equally so. Some had a bed of cushions instead of a bed of straw, others had a now torched carpet, or paintings, or even books stacked up in a corner. Many others, however, had been forced to endure with no such niceties. Regardless, all had a tub, bathing implements, and chamber pots.

I shook my head, trying to comprehend what I was seeing. Scorched and mutilated corpses lying among the most unfairly luxurious prison I had ever seen. Spyro stepped up to me and stared as well, his brow furrowed in thought.

Then a distant horn bellowed out and we jumped, remembering what we had to do. We turned to the hall to our right, which led in the direction of the chamber we wanted to go. We started down the hall and had just reached the end when I noticed an open cell. It was the most lavishly decorated of them all, furnished with paintings, bookcases, a table with food, a bed of silk pillows, and much more. It might have resembled a miniature royal bedroom, if it was not utterly torn apart. The pillows had been clawed open and their contents spilled about everywhere. Books were shredded, and the carpet peeled in places. Not a thing was left unscathed, and much of it looked like it had been done a fair while ago. It was un-charred by flame, and the cell door was broken open, the lock shattered and the bars bent outwards as if the prisoner had thrown themselves against it multiple times. There was no corpse within.

"At least one prisoner seems to have gotten out," I sighed and looked to Spyro with some relief. Then a thought darkened my view. "At least, I hope that's what happened. This one looked fairly well off."

He gave a nod, his muzzle pressed tight. Then I shook my head and turned to the door before us, which was reinforced, though unlocked and swung wide open. We paced out of the prison and into the new hallway.

The smoke still hung in the air and Spyro and I repurposed some of the religious decorations around us into cloths to keep from inhaling it. The hall was a crossroad, with the passage leading onward into the darkness, and with a secondary hallway crossing it in the middle, leading towards and hopefully into the main chamber.

We had only taken a few steps towards it when the sound of voices reached us, coming from the hallway to the left.

"… find it! Scour all of the rooms just in case. I will head to the escape hall to cut…"

Six figures turned from the hall to the left and stopped, all eyes fixing on Spyro and I. We had nowhere to hide. Immediately the five dragons crouched, their fangs gleaming under their cowls, yellow eyes burning. Behind them the speaker, a black robed figure carrying a purple-crystal topped staff remained silent for a moment. His red-orange eyes met mine and I felt an inexplicable shock run through me. Then he grinned, his crooked fangs bared in a vicious smile.

"Kill them," he said, his voice growing low and guttural. "And if that fails, delay them as long as possible."

With that he turned, hefting his robe to walk speedily down the hallway opposite us. Spyro glared and took a step forward to follow, but the five dragons let loose a howl and charged, moving with unnatural speed.

I inhaled and blasted a cone of shadow-flame towards the cultists; Spyro followed suit with true fire a half-second later. The dragons did not falter, barging through the fire and emerging unscathed, with only their robes suffering harm, falling away into tatters.

Our eyes widened in shock, though not at their lack of harm, but rather the sight of them changing. Their scales warped and darkened, their natural reds, greens, and blues staining into a dark, ruddy purple in hue. They did not glow and they did not radiate darkness; they had transformed into purple dragons.

I just narrowly dodged back in time as the first of the purple dragons launched a volley of ice shards, which burrowed into the solid stone like drills. The others unleashed their own storms of magic, alternating between fire, ice, lightning, wind, earth, and even shadow. Spyro and I hastily retreated to try and think up a plan, the narrow hallway not providing much in the way of cover to avoid the blasts.

We could hardly believe what was happening. What we saw at the time defied all our expectations and it made us careless, and kept us from fighting back. I could tell Spyro was shaken and at war with himself over what was happening. He had always been told that he was special, that he was one of the few purples in existence. Yet, before him now were dragons who could become like him, who could gain his power without actually being a purple, and he didn't know what to do. I myself pushed all that aside to deal with it later. All that mattered was that they were enemies, and that we had to deal with them. I could worry about what it all meant later.

We rallied once we reached the end of the hall, and having nowhere left to go we were forced to take the purple dragons head on. Three of them came at Spyro, seeming to deem him the greater threat, while the other two homed in on me with lighting, water, and earth, all things they seemed to know I would have trouble dealing with.

I dodged the earth shards and caught the water with wind. Then I used the pure, undiluted water to diffuse the bolts of lightning. Hm? Water doesn't diffuse electricity but conducts it? Actually you're wrong, Igneous, water doesn't conduct electricity, at least, not pure water. It has something to do with metallic particles in impure water. It's a neat little fact I learned from Cyril. Either way, it worked and the heat from the lightning caused the water to evaporate, creating a convenient cloud of steam between us. Then I retaliated with a harrowing assault of fear magic. One faltered, but the other continued the attack relentlessly, her face twisted in utter glee.

I changed to poison, and they called upon wind and earth to deflect my attack. Frustrated, I altered tactics. Using a relatively new technique I had developed – it was already known to other Shadow dragons, but I had never met any personally at that point – I leapt into the shadows and shadow-jumped behind them. Poison coating my claws, I slashed each across the back, before making a quick retreat. They staggered forward, shocked by the pain. They began to twitch as the toxin took hold, doubling over. Then their bodies flushed with poison magic and they slumped in relief, using their purple magic to cure themselves. I used this opportunity to charge up a powerful ball of shadow-flame at their backs. By the time they had turned around to face me, it was too late, and they had no chance to throw up a barrier strong enough to block the attack. I winced as they screamed in agony as the shadow flame ate away at them, and I quickly turned to Spyro to see how he was doing.

He naturally fared much better than I would have against three purples, though he was still having a hard time of it. He countered each of their elemental attacks with his own, matching them stride for stride, but never had time to counterattack; the three paced their strikes methodically, in an attempt to overwhelm him. That changed, however, when they noticed the screams of their companions. They glanced their way, leaving Spyro just enough of an opening to slam a paw down on the stone floor and send a shockwave outwards. They were knocked off their paws and sent tumbling to the floor.

They just barely hauled up a wall of stone in time to defended themselves as Spyro roared, unleashing a wash of flame over them. My eyes narrowed as the purple hue of their scales flickered, growing duller and more washed out. I advanced, circling around them, a fierce crimson glow covering my body. They turned, true fear entering their eyes as they realized the situation they were in. They glanced at one another, nodded, and inhaled deeply. Vast magical energies swirled about them, each one glowing a different colour as they rose into the air.

"Cynder, beside me!" Spyro shouted. I jumped to his side and together we drew on the power of convexity. We had only just begun to master it, but we knew that it was our only chance of surviving three simultaneous furies from purple dragons directed solely towards us. We watched them rise, the energies solidifying around them. Then, just as the power reached its peak, we formed a small, tight, twin-layered barrier around us.

The earth, lightning, and wind furies struck with unimaginable force. It was the first time that any such power had ever been used against us, and I was unprepared for what it felt like. But our barrier held, the first layer cracking but diverting most of the power around and behind us.

The walls seemed to shake as the fury ended, and the three dragons collapsed to the ground, the purple staining their scales fading away entirely. They stood shakily and glared at us with such hate that I was shocked we did not wither away on the spot.

Spyro stepped forward, to try and convince them to surrender, but they did not give him the chance, charging forward with claws and fangs bared. A few blades of wind and jets of fire sent them sprawling, dead before they struck the charred stone.

The two I had hit with my shadow element dragged themselves painfully to their paws, and they advanced on us as well, though they were far too injured to live much longer. I put them out of their misery before they could attack us with what little purple power they had left.

Spyro and I paused a moment, to catch our breath, and we watched the purple colour leech off of the scales of the cultists around us. I met Spyro's eyes and we silently wondered what in the ancestor's name was happening. Then I shook my head and glanced down the hall where the robed figure had gone. He was nowhere to be seen, having vanished to his alleged 'escape tunnel.' We doubted we'd be able to find him, if that was the case.

"Come on, I think we're close." Spyro murmured and strode on ahead, his eyes focused on the crossing hallway before us. I took a deep breath and followed, though I could not help but feel a sense of dread stirring in my gut.

We reached the intersection and turned right, to find ourselves confronted with another large, iron-wrought door, matching the one in the main hall. Spyro and I looked to one another and nodded; we had found the right place.

We took a moment to check for traps, but found nothing, not even the magical runes like the first such entrance. There was only a magical lock baring our way, and it took only a single blast of convexity from the two of us to tear through it.

Spyro pushed forward and shoved the melted door open. We jumped inside and looked around, ready for whatever might jump out at us.

The inside was simultaneously everything I expected to find, and was surprised to find. The walls and stonework was still plain and primitive, though was much more intricate than the outside halls. There were three entrances to the room; one door led into the main hall, one door led back where we had come from, and another lay directly across from us. The stone floor was adorned with thick carpets and the dais at the back of the room. Atop the dais sat a massive stone altar, surrounded by idols of unidentifiable creatures and monsters that I have never seen before or since. The altar was decorated with cushions and beside it on a plinth was placed a platter covered in meats, vegetables, berries, nuts, and sauces.

And then we noticed him. He lay atop the altar, gazing at us with burning yellow eyes. Malefor stood and stretched out his ruddy purple form and stepped off the altar, a smirk staining his muzzle.

Spyro and I stood, aghast. We had failed. We had tried to reach the ritual before it had completed, but he had risen regardless.

The Dark Master stopped at the base of the dais and met our eyes. "Ah, I was wondering when I would get to see my young nemesis and disloyal servant once more. I was beginning to think the trap I set outside the door had actually succeeded. I am relieved to see such a simple tactic did not destroy you."

A blast of lightning erupted from Spyro's muzzle, and slammed into a shimmering wall of purple that manifested around Malefor, and I had to shake the daze that swamped my mind away. Malefor clucked his tongue disapprovingly, and rumbled a low chuckle.

"Manners, Spyro, manners. You are in my home now, and you must honour the host." Malefor turned casually away and settled down on the altar once more. Spyro and I glanced at one another, a shiver chilling our scales. He had not even budged under a full assault of Spyro's lightning element, one of his strongest. Then he ignored us, as if we were but petulant hatchlings trying to prove we were adults. My fangs clenched together tightly.

We split up, moving to flank him, but he did not move, watching us approach with a smug grin. We attacked simultaneously, my fear blast and Spyro's earth bolts slamming against the barrier around him, with little effect. We met eyes again, bit back the squirming in our gut and gave a nod, resolving ourselves. Malefor chuckled once more and then gestured to the platter of food in front of him.

"If you are done with your little tantrum," Malefor began only to be cut off as Spyro and I launched a flurry of attacks against his barrier, alternating elements in an effort to crack the shield. The Dark Master sighed and waited a moment, and then cleared his throat.

"SIT DOWN," Malefor roared, his eyes flashing bright white.

Both Spyro and I gasped as our bodies turned dark black and we dropped to the ground, our elements choked back in our throats. Malefor nibbled on the food in front of him, watching us closely.

It bore down on me, filling me with dark promise and power, all the while seeping into my very soul. I wanted to scream, to claw at my scales to make it stop. It felt slick like blood, so much blood. Blood I had spilt in the cruel campaign of terror that I couldn't even remember. Bile rose up in my throat and it took everything I had to keep from giving into the horror of it all. I could feel him bearing down on my mind, and it was a presence that felt all too familiar.

It was Spyro who broke free first, his scales turning purple once more as he doubled over, gasping. With great effort I broke free of the mental grip, my body shuddering at the sick, itchy feeling of having another mind press down on my own. To the side, Malefor clapped his paws together, smiling warmly.

"An excellent display, Spyro, Minion. You broke free much sooner than expected." Malefor gave a respectful nod of his three-horned head to both of us, much to my surprise. "Now then, do eat, we have much to talk about."

I frowned at this. This was not the Malefor I has expected to see. My memories of him consist of him screaming, howling, and roaring in fury. I remembered him hurling fire, lightning, and convexity in an attempt to destroy us without any desire to speak. Yet here, he seemed carefree, almost jovial, entirely unlike the Dark Master of legend. Something was wrong.

Malefor shook his head when neither of us took the food he offered and sighed. "So uncouth, the youth these days." Malefor laughed. "Speaking of youth, I hear you two have a child: an egg, and recently lain I am told."

Both Spyro and I stiffened at this, terror sweeping through our bodies. We tensed, ready to act.

Malefor continued with a sigh. "I would offer congratulations, but we are enemies after all. Not that I wish it so. I would be more than welcoming if you were to join me."

"Never!" Spyro snapped, his violet eyes burning.

Malefor shifted on his seat and shrugged. "If you insist, though I do not see the need for us to fight."

"What are you up to?" I demanded, searching his features. I could see no sign of strain or weakness, and the thrum of magic around him did not slack. Attacking at that moment would still be futile. "Why are you trying to be so sociable? You don't fool us!"

Malefor rolled his eyes. "Can a dragon not wish to converse now and again? It is not like we are on the cusp of the end of the world, or I am strained by manually controlling the Destroyer, like before. We have time, and I have patience. I simply wish to get to know the two of you better."

"Before you try and kill us," I thought with a sneer. Spyro and I exchanged looks. We were waiting, using the time to analyze his shield and searching for weaknesses. We knew now that wasting our power on trying to crack the shield would be pointless, and if we had the time we might as well extract some information out of him.

"Again, back to your egg," Malefor said, with a huff. "Is it a purple? I am quite curious. How long ago was it lain? A month? Less?"

"A month," I answered reluctantly.

"Ah," he nodded. "Then it has a few more months before it will hatch. I am not sure if that is a shame for you or not. Is it a purple?"

Neither of us answered. He sighed once more and shook his head. He changed the topic. "I understand that you have rebuilt the Temple. I am impressed, it has only been five or so years since my death, and to accomplish that would require a considerable amount of effort…"

While he spoke I scoured him, trying to figure out what was going on. I drowned out his deep voice; it brought back distant, vague memories of times long forgotten, of horrible things I'd done when I was under his control that always just remained on the periphery of my awareness. I did my best, but his voice constantly demanded my attention, a remnant from his control long past. He droned on for what seemed like minutes, and Spyro visibly shook, as he resisted the desire to launch another attack. I looked between the two purples, my own fangs clenched in thought.

Then it hit me.

I looked up at Malefor, my eyes wide and my voice low. "You are trying to buy yourself time, aren't you?" I demanded, standing up forcibly.

Spyro looked to me, his eyes going wide. Malefor looked into my face, his voice fading away as he raised an eyeridge. I felt a swell rise up in my breast, and I knew I was right.

"Let me guess," I hissed. "The ritual isn't complete yet, and you are still waiting for it to return your full power to you?"

Spyro stood as well, snarling.

Malefor was silent for a moment, gazing into my face. Then a grin cracked his expression and he laughed.

"Oh, you have seen right through me, Cynder." He rose and stepped down from the Altar. "I must applaud your… perceptiveness. You are entirely correct. I am only at half my full potential, and the body I currently inhabit is merely a host, though one I have twisted into my own image."

We gathered power deep within us, ready to launch our next attack. We had a chance; we could still stop this before he returned at full power. Malefor gazed down at us, silent though still smirking.

Then an explosion to our right shook dust from the walls and we all glanced towards the door on that side. It shook once and then burst inwards, and the Guardians rushed in with several dozen soldiers behind them. Malefor's smirk flickered for a moment, before he forced it back onto his muzzle.

The Guardians came to a stop and gazed up at Malefor with horror, looking between him and us with confusion and terror. I sneered and turned to them, shouting as loud as I could.

"He isn't fully resurrected yet! He's only at a fraction of his power!"

Their expressions hardened as hope returned and they strode forward to join us.

Malefor glanced to the way they had come and a pulse of green energy shot through the floor. Walls of stone erupted from the floor, sealing all of the entrances. Then he looked to us, a manic grin baring his fangs.

"I may be only at half strength, fools, but that is far more than what I had when you first faced me. I suppose I should be grateful for this intrusion, however. Perhaps now I will actually be challenged."

We charged him, Spyro and I drawing upon all our power to hurl everything we had at the barrier. Behind us, the Guardians discharged a volley of devastatingly complex magical attacks, which barraged the side of his barrier and caused it to waver. We ducked in and delivered the finishing blow, shattering the convexity wall around him.

Then began the true fight.

Malefor had not lied; he was very powerful, far more powerful than the first time we had faced him in the plummeting ruins of the old Temple. I think, had we been alone, we might not have succeeded, but we had backup and friends, and he had nowhere to run and hide.

The battle was long and it was a blur of magic and constant heart-pounding terror, so I can hardly remember much of it. What I do remember was the Dark Master effortlessly weaving many elements together into attacks so devastating that we all nearly died on several occasions, saved only by the heroism of the Guardians, Spyro, or sometimes myself on any given time. He summoned vicious, ooze-like creatures formed out of raw convexity to fight with us, which we found shockingly difficult to dispatch, and he brought forth an amazing array of sub-elements, many of which I cannot name because I could barely pay attention to them. He caused magma to erupt from the ground, drenched the entire room in poisonous, sapient plants, created fluid metal out of nothingness and drained all energy out of us by trying to put us to sleep, something we only survived thanks to my fear element. But perhaps the most surprising, was the fact that he hardly even used any convexity against us, only mixing it into the occasional attack or spell he cast our way. He seemed entirely focused on his natural elements, which he proved to be more than effective.

The battle lasted several minutes, and by the end only Spyro, Cyril, Ember, and I were left standing. Ember and Flame had joined the fray at some later point during the fight, even saving Spyro's life thanks to their interference, but Flame, Volteer, Terrador, and Inferna had all been blasted into unconsciousness, and were protected by a thin barrier of convexity that Spyro struggled to maintain. Many of the soldiers were dead, but many more were simply injured, no longer able to help us in the fight. Spyro tried to protect them as well, but there was only so far he could extend himself and still fight.

Malefor was slowly worn down, his reserves fading as we stole away his magic crystals for our own use. Yet even despite that he continued to hold the edge, forcing us to take the defensive at every turn. It was only a well-placed shot from Spyro, an earth-infused ice spear, which turned the tide as it shattered Malefor's barrier and impaled him through the chest.

The Dark Master staggered back, a surprised look on his face. I grinned and jumped at the chance, blasting several globs of poison and bolts of fear his way. He threw up a shield, seeming to be using the last reserves of his power to do so.

Clutching at the wound, Malefor slumped against the blasted altar, and gave a wan smirk as we approached him, ready to end the battle.

"You have grown strong, Spyro, Cynder." He coughed, blood oozing from his muzzle. "And you have made very powerful allies. I underestimated your Guardians; you put up a frantic fight."

"Give up, Malefor," Spyro said, his eyes hard. "You've lost."

"You are right, I have lost."

At that, all of our eyes flew wide and we look at one another, shocked and amazed. Behind the barrier Malefor laughed, his voice wheezing and croaking.

"Do not act so surprised. This was a fair victory, unlike at the World-heart. And I have not yet accomplished enough with this new life of mine to grow angry. I am not at the cusp of victory and seeing it torn away."

My mouth slowly went dry. Somehow this wasn't right. Hearing him admit defeat so easily did not send a thrill of elation through me like I had hoped. I searched his face, wondering what was going on.

"Besides, what is one more death to me?" Malefor laughed, blood gurgling from his muzzle as he slowly slumped against the altar, his eyes growing dull. "I have risen enough times for it to become worthless. So revel in your victory, my rivals, but know that my legacy will be your downfall."

The last breath escaped him and he crumpled to the floor, his enormous body going lax. I stepped forward as the barrier faded, unable to stop quivering. Then I leapt forward and around to his face, to check and see if he had really expired, and to slit his throat to be sure the job was done. It wasn't needed.

Before our very eyes the colour drained from his body, the purple disappearing until only blue remained. I stared, watching as the purple energy rushed out of him to float a short distance above the body before fading, vanishing from sight altogether. Cyril and Ember approached as well, shocked by what had just occurred. His body remained in the same shape, and he was unmistakably Malefor, but he no longer bore the colour of his legend. Before us was an empty host, just as Malefor had claimed.

From there we revived as many of the injured as we could, and met up with Pyron once more to explain to him that we were victorious. He had dealt with the cultists effectively, but there were many casualties and despite our best efforts we returned home with less than half of our forces. Even still we were hailed as heroes and people started treating me with greater respect, especially thanks to Pyron, who, after he was given the throne for his valiant effort and great foresight, vouched for my loyalty. Spyro and I were offered a place as Guardians, though only I took it. Spyro didn't want that kind of responsibility and wanted to be able to come and go as he pleased, helping people as he wanted to.

Many years later, nothing ever came of Malefor's threat, though we still guard against it, just in case.

…

"And that is the tale of the Second Resurrection," Cynder finished with a smile. "It isn't nearly as grand an epic as our first journey to defeat Malefor, I must admit, but it was a fairly terrifying experience at the time."

Tirren, who was shivering with pent-up energy, opened her muzzle to speak, and then managed to stop herself. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and then gave an eager grin. "That was a very intriguing story, Lady Cynder. I must admit, that hearing it from you was much more enlightening than any of the books or storytellers that have retold it."

Cynder snickered at this. "Perhaps, though I am not at all an expert in the field of storytelling. Even still, I am glad you enjoyed it."

"Lady Cynder, I hope you don't mind, but I have a few more questions now," Tirren said, sitting up straight. "There were some things in that story that, well, I did not really understand."

Cynder glanced over to Yeras, who gave a shrug, a small smile painting her muzzle. Cynder sighed and then looked back to Tirren. "I suppose we have the time. I do always appreciate curiosity."

Tirren gave a grateful bow of her head, and then took a moment to formulate her thoughts. "I think the thing that caught me the most was the dragons that turned into purple dragons. Can you explain that? I don't understand how that is possible."

Cynder blew out a rough breath and gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know" – Tirren's face fell – "not really, anyway," Cynder continued. "That is probably one of the greater mysteries of the Second Resurrection. Still, Spyro and I have our theories."

The earth draken's face lit up, and her twinned silver-horned head caught the torchlight as she tilted her head in eager anticipation. Cynder smirked at this and could not help but chuckle.

"When we returned home we did some reading on that very phenomenon. We asked the Guardians about it but they were less than helpful. Cyril, Terrador, and Volteer seemed to know something about it, but refused to tell us. So we did some snooping in their private library of dark magics, and happened across a rather... controversial subject: Artificial Purple dragons."

Tirren's expression turned from amusement at imagining the two heroes sneaking about like criminals, to astonishment. "Artificial purples?"

Cynder gave a slow nod. "Yes. Apparently, back when the dragon race was much more powerful and populous, they often conducted magical experiments on eggs, usually orphaned ones. One of the most important and sought after was the attempt to create a purple dragon. They knew of them in legend, but did not want to wait for the next one to be laid by chance. They process was… rarely successful, and there are no records of how it was accomplished, and even then the purple dragons tended to be... well, as they put it: defective; nearly all of them had physical and mental issues when they were growing up."

Tirren sat back, a storm of thoughts and emotions clouding her face. "And you think that these dragons were… created?"

"It's a possibility." Cynder shrugged. "We have no proof, and it is entirely possible that there were other magics or forces at play. It seems the most likely, even if not everything matches up."

Tirren raised an eyeridge questioningly.

Cynder noticed the expression and grimaced. "Artificial purple dragons were, supposedly, purple permanently. They did not have to change and they did not lose their power after using it for a while. Those dragons had to change. It was as if they were… invested with extra magic, or perhaps blessed or cursed with it. We have absolutely no clue, as all documents were destroyed and all witnesses either fled or were killed. We only have speculation to go by."

Tirren sighed, simultaneously frustrated and satisfied with the answer. Then she shook herself and met Cynder's eyes again. "Speaking of which: were you ever able to identify the prisoners, or find any survivors?"

Cynder gave a sad smile. "We never found any survivors, no. We were able to identify a few of the prisoners though, through some of the heirloom jewelry they wore. The three or four we were able to identify were draken considered missing or dead since around the end of the war with Malefor, having vanished during raids or when out hunting. Their families were grateful to have finally found them, though were not happy as to where."

Tirren slumped. "Oh… Um, any idea why they were held captive?"

Cynder shrugged, her own expression bleak. "We presume they were used, or intended to be used, as sacrifices for Malefor. Or perhaps they were going to be forcibly mind-controlled into working as agents for him. Malefor and his subordinates are capable of doing such. I'm a prime example of that."

"There are so many more questions to be answered." Tirren groaned to herself, her eyes distant.

"There always are." Cynder gave a defeated chuckle. Then she brightened and leaned down to finish her now cold tea. "But we should not worry about that sort of thing right now. It was years ago, well before you hatched. Let us grownups worry about that sort of thing. I appreciate your curiosity but do not get discouraged. We either will never know, or time will tell us the answer. Perhaps the Chronicler will one day bestow us that gift, if he ever finally deigns to poke his droning snout around again. Bastard never visits or drops by anymore, not since we did his damn job for him.

Tirren giggled at that, and then sighed. Both Yeras and Igneous cracked a snicker at the exaggeratedly sour expression teasing Cynder's face.

They were silent for a moment, their laughter dying down, so that only the sounds of the younglings and Zindy below could be heard. Then Cynder cleared her throat and met Tirren's eyes.

"So, do you have any more questions?"

Tirren hesitated, her body tensing and her face drawing taught. Then, with a slow but hesitant shake of her head, she declined. "I think that's all I wanted, Lady Cynder, Miss Yeras. Thank you so much for your time."

Tirren rose and bowed low, Cynder gazing down at her with a pleased grin, while Yeras watched on passively, inwardly withdrawn. Igneous rose with Tirren, and bid his own farewell as they turned to walk back down the steps to the entrance. They passed by Zindy and offered their thanks and appreciation for the tea, and then exited Spyro and Cynder's chamber.

The green dragoness let out an enormous sigh as the door shut behind them, and took a moment to sit and massage the sides of her head. Igneous paused, watching her with concern as she 'hmmed' to herself.

Finally he could take it no more and hesitantly ventured a question. "Is something the matter?"

"That story was a lot to take in."

Igneous blinked and looked at her, confused. "Really? It didn't seem like much to me."

Tirren smiled and looked up at him. "Well I didn't grow up with people who participated in it, Iggy."

The red dragon flushed. "Oh… right."

Tirren smirked and then stood, beginning to walk down the halls once more, once again losing herself in thought. "Dammit. There has to be more to this. Artificial purple dragons? Prisoners? Visions? A legacy that never came to fruition? Something is amiss here."

"I suppose, though you have to admit details missing isn't all that strange," Igneous replied with a shrug. "I mean, it isn't like in the story books, where everything fits together or is clarified by the end. Things go missing or are never discovered in the first place. It is unfortunate but it does happen."

"Perhaps, but it does not mean you shouldn't try and figure it out." Tirren huffed. "I think I should pay these light dragons a visit sometime as well."

Igneous paused and stared at her for a moment, before realizing she had continued walking along without him and hustled back to her side. "Why is that?"

"The 'Order of the Golden Shield' is supposed to protect us from the forces of convexity and darkness, right?"

Igneous pursed his muzzle. "That's what Cadence said in our last class with him, yeah. What are you…" Igneous paused, the thought occurring to him just as Tirren began to speak.

"If that's the case, where were they when all of this went down? If they've been working in secret to fight Malefor and his minions all this time, as well as other forces of evil and darkness, why didn't they show up for that fight?"

"You're right." Igneous nodded. "That does seem fishy… then again we only figured it out because Spyro had the visions. Maybe they really just didn't know it was happening?"

Tirren stopped and met Igneous's gaze, her expression flat and grim. "Are you saying that an age-old order of powerful light dragons, who were solely dedicated to the fighting of all that is dark and evil, would not have a method of discerning where their prey might be rooted?"

Igneous opened his muzzle to reply, but paused. He swallowed and gave a meek shrug.

"They had to know," Tirren continued along the way, her claws clenching into the carpeted stone floor. "And if they didn't, that just raises more questions about how authentic an organization this actually is. Something is going on here, and I don't trust them for a moment."

Dardarax's Characters

Tirren, Igneous, Blitz, Geocia, Sirrico.

Zindy, Falwee, Cerial

Pyron, Inferna.

The Stry-Kier, The Hooded Figure.

Thanks to Rurik-Redwolf for the idea I added in here. You know the one, you scoundrel. ;P And so does anyone who's read his story Memories and Unavoidable Fate (I think? I can't remember if it's happened yet)

Uuuughhh. This was a long chapter. Too long. I hope it was at least interesting and answered some questions. XD

It really was about time I talked about the Second Resurrection. It's… a topic I've built up for some time. It's also probably not what most of you expected. Sorry if you were hoping for something… grander. That's just now how this was. =P

It was a lot of fun to experiment with this chapter though. The style change was refreshing, but I probably won't do it too often. It might happen one or two more times, but not for a long while. It was also nice being able to finally talk about the poison dragons. xD They needed an introduction, though they might come off as more evil here than they really are. Sort of like the Apes.

Well I think I'm done talking about that for now. Looking forward to my next chapter. It's… well, you'll see. =3

Chapter 22 will be posted on May 30th