Chapter 29: Precious Time Wasted

By Dardarax

Disclaimer: I, Dardarax, do not own Spyro, Cynder, the Dragon Temple, The Guardians, Warfang, or any other character or place belonging to the Spyro franchise. I have just emerged from my cryogenic time capsule after nearly a year of slumber to find that this world has... not changed in any significant way. Huh. Well that was a waste of several million dollars. Ugh. Well, at least I still own several characters that appear in this chapter. Their names are listed at the bottom.

The whispering refused to stop.

Savron snorted and rolled out of his bed, to resume stalking around the chamber. How was he supposed to get any sleep with all this noise? Every waking hour of every day alone there was always constant hissing in the background and all because of them! Savron whirled around to face the corner where the two shades sat.

Tirren and Miranda were huddled close together, muzzles concealed by their dripping, black, shadowy wings, held up so that they could whisper and giggle to one another without letting him hear the damn details. Not that he wanted to hear their drivel, the whores. He knew they were just trying to get to him, to make him scream and shout at them, to begin throwing things again to make them go away. He could almost see that glowing-white smiles etched across their faces as they watched him, waiting for him to crack. He wouldn't give them the pleasure!

He cast about, searching for something to distract him from the presence, anything to dull the boredom, but there was nothing left for him; nearly all of his trinkets and toys were smashed, thrown in a vain effort to make the whores stop gossiping. Even the homework that had, for a while, been placed in his room so that he could keep up with his classes had stopped coming once he'd torn up every book they brought. For once he actually regretted shredding that tripe; he could have used the distraction.

Savron turned to the door of his chamber and strode over to it. Tirren and Miranda looked up at him as he neared, but he refused to meet their gazes. He checked the door once more, and again found it locked from the outside, and with chains no less. The edges of the door were blocked off with steel wool so that he couldn't slide under it with shadow, and they appeared to have installed a door bar after the last time he picked the locks. Damn them. He wasn't a prisoner! He was their son! How could they do this to him?

He turned to the window, which had been barred tight, with only just enough room to let air in. Slipping through that with shadows would be treacherous, unlike the times before, but he could manage it, if it weren't for the guards standing on a balcony facing the window.

Desperate, Savron once more tried to open his shadow to make a jump through it outside, only to be ejected back into his chamber, the wards placed around his room redirecting him back. He let out a roar of rage and swept his tail through the shards of his past, scattering them to the edges of the room. Then he jumped back into his bed and pulled the pillows over his head, to try and muffle the sound of the giggling; it didn't help.

A long, sensuous nuzzle along his neck caused him to jump from his bed with a start. He whirled with a snarl, only to find Tirren and Miranda standing on either side of him. They smiled, their white, empty eyes narrowing slyly at his expression. Then they nuzzled his neck again, walking on either side of him, pressing their flanks against his. Savron's claws gripped the cushions, tearing the velvet and pulling out the stuffing. His jaws clenched tight and he averted his eyes as they walked with a sultry sway away from him, towards the other side of the chamber.

They had their chance, if they wanted him. He'd asked Tirren countless times before and she'd refused, so he wouldn't give her the pleasure now. Besides, he knew they were just teasing, just trying to taunt him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tirren kneel, as if to present herself and Savron felt his body lurch forward, ready to pounce, only for him to catch himself. No! It was some sort of trap. It had to be a trap. With all that gossiping to the side they had to have planned this. Miranda would knock him off the moment he started and they'd laugh at his misery, like they always did!

Savron turned away from them and buried himself in the pillows, so they couldn't reach him, and shut his eyes, hoping he might finally get some sleep.

"I'm surprised you didn't take them."

Savron's eyes snapped open and he lifted his head to listen. The voice was coming from behind him, like it always did.

"You again!" Savron shouted back into his mind. "Where in the ancestors' names have you been?"

"I've been here, in your head, waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to call me, you waste of purple scales."

A snarl burst from Savron's muzzle and his claws began tearing the cushions anew. The voice laughed.

"So very angry. You must be stressed. Do you want to talk about it?"

"You know why I'm so damn stressed you asshole."

"Watch your language. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Another snarl escaped Savron and the voice chortled again.

"Why are you here now? To narrate about how your Tirren and Miranda are trying to seduce me?"

"I think you've misunderstood, Savron," the voice said, a smile almost audible on its tone. "They aren't my Tirren and Miranda. They're your Tirren and Miranda. All yours, to play with as you see fit."

Savron's eyes widened and he turned to face the shades of Tirren and Miranda, once more sitting in the corner, watching him. His claws had dug themselves firmly into the cushions, and his forelegs began to shiver.

"I'm but a voice, after all. I'm not the one who called them here. I'm not the one who needs their bodies."

The purple shut his eyes and took a deep breath, making up his mind. When he opened his eyes he looked to where they had sat, hungrily, only to find them missing. He looked around, trying to see where they had gone, but found nothing.

"Hm… they must've gotten bored and left. What a shame."

Savron let out a hiss of frustration and swept his pillows aside in fury. The voice sighed, clucking its invisible tongue.

"What a temper you have. I suppose that's fitting of a purple dragon, though. Regardless, it is probably for the best you didn't partake just now."

Savron tilted his head in confusion. "But you had just asked…"

"Look to the north-west corner of your bedroom. We have a visitor."

Puzzled, Savron complied. His eyes fixed upon a light shimmer just barely visible in the corner, present so briefly it was gone almost in an instant. Savron's eyes narrowed.

Inhaling deeply he called upon his magic, his muzzle glowing green. He launched a blast of earth directly at the corner. There was a flash of movement, the blur shifting out of the way, so that the rock smashed into the stone of his chamber and blasted out a chunk. Savron whirled to the blur, sneering. The shimmering fade away and revealed a large, aged golden dragon sitting in Savron's chamber. He eyed Savron with a wary gaze, his body tensed and ready to dodge another blast.

When none came, a smirk touched the gold drake's muzzle and he turned to face Savron fully. "I was wondering if you would ever notice me, boy," Mirrolus said, his voice haggard. "I was just about ready to give up and leave."

"What are you doing here? How long have you been here?" Savron demanded as fire and lightning danced along his scales.

"I've been here for about two hours," Mirrolus said with a shrug. "Almost a new record for how long I've held my invisibility straight. That must've been what gave me away. You saw shimmers, didn't you?"

"Why are you here?"

Mirrolus's smile twisted into a sneer. "I'm watching over you, boy. People in the Temple are worried about you, some more than others. I'm here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"You didn't stop me from trying to escape."

"That's not what I meant."

Savron glared up at Mirrolus, his gaze fixed on the golden dragon, wanting nothing more than to see his miserable scales burned off until they no longer gleamed so bright.

The sneer that had crossed Mirrolus's face flickered and turned to a wide smile, and he stalked closer to Savron.

"I'm actually impressed how often you've managed to catch glimpses of me in the past. Though I was moving most of the time so it was harder to maintain the illusion."

Savron's eyes narrowed. So it was him all those times before, the bastard. "What are you going to do then? Kill me? Purge me? Something mysterious and horrific that we lesser dragons are better off not knowing?"

Mirrolus raised an eyeridge at that. "Nothing like that, yet." His eyes narrowed. "So long as you behave."

The voice hissed into Savron's ear. "A true purple wouldn't take such insolence lying down like an Albino. But then again, a true purple would have the power to actually back up that pride, and you seem rather lacking in that department too. What a pity."

Savron's clenched his fangs together, feeling his elements rising.

Mirrolus seemed to notice and cocked his head to one side. "I see I struck a nerve. I take it you've had enough hearing that from your parents, right?"

A bolt of lightning burst from Savron's muzzle, only for it to be deflected off of a shimmering wall that appeared between Savron and Mirrolus. The golden dragon actually looked a bit surprised, which sent a surge of elation through Savron.

Mirrolus sighed. "I'm going to get chewed out by Lumos for this, aren't I?" Then he laughed and met Savron's eyes, though there was no humour to be found in his gaze.

"I shall bid you farewell for now, Savron. I hope you get your temper under control, else I'll have to curb it for you."

"Don't talk down to me you–" Savron began, only for a blinding flash of light to sear Savron's eyes, causing him to stagger back. When the spots finally faded the golden dragon was gone, as if he had never been there in the first place. Savron sent a surge of air magic out of him, searching the chamber for any presences that might have hidden, but found nothing. The gold dragon really was gone. How? How in the ancestors' names did he escape?

Savron stormed about his chamber, flinging everything aside, trying to figure out where the light dragon could have gone, but to no avail. There never had been a secret exit in Savron's chamber, and the few times he tried to design one his parents had always intruded upon it and gotten rid of it. There was no way out.

The purple slumped into his bed, most of the pillows having been gored of all their stuffing. He shut his eyes. Maybe now he could actually get some sleep.

The door to his chamber opened, and a soft, tired, but familiar voice spoke.

"Hey, Sav."

Savron's eyes darted open. Across from him was a figure Savron hadn't seen in what seemed like weeks, an old friend, and one of the few who had never even once abandoned him.

"Igneous!" Savron beamed, rising to his paws to rush over to him. The red dragon looked haggard, weary, and ever so sad, but that was to be expected after what the whore had done to him.

"Sorry it took me so long to come over to visit," Igneous said, a faded smile on his muzzle. "I was… distracted."

"It's fine, buddy," Savron laughed, throwing his wings about Igneous in a hug that caused the big red to start in surprise. "I'm just glad to see you."

Igneous smiled, much of the exhaustion leaving his face, as if a great weight had just been left behind. "I can't believe they actually locked you up."

"I know!" Savron said with a snort, turning away to find some cushions to make some seats for the two of them. He came back with two of the few intact pillows, only to see Igneous staring about his chamber in horror.

"What happened here?"

For the first time in… longer than he could remember, Savron felt something heavy settle in his chest at the sight of his friend's expression. He looked down at the trinkets and treasures and the weight got heavier.

"It's… a long story."

Igneous looked to Savron, his grey eyes deep. He took the cushion Savron offered and sat down upon it, facing the purple.

"You don't look well, Sav."

Savron snapped. "I feel fine!" He winced when he saw Igneous jerk back, and gave a weary, apologetic smile. He couldn't drive Igneous away, not now! He was the first visitor in days besides his parents and that freak Yeras. "Well, maybe a bit tired. I haven't slept in…" Savron paused. When was the last time he slept?

Igneous sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that," he pushed the biggest grin he could onto his face. "Maybe next time I'll sneak in a bit of extra food for you? That always helps me sleep when I'm feeling down."

Savron chuckled. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that. Make sure to get me some of your mom's meatloaf, alright?"

Igneous gave Savron a bump on the shoulder with his wing-knuckle. "Of course."

The two fell silent, Igneous having run out of topics, like he often did. Savron wondered if there was anything he could talk to him about, but nothing came to mind that wouldn't make him sound crazy and drive away Igneous.

Savron glanced over to Igneous, away from his paws and caught sight of the red looking at him, concern welling in his eyes. The purple's throat sealed shut. No, he couldn't be thinking it too, could he? He couldn't be taking the whore's side against him? Not after what she put them through!

The purple's claws clenched tight, digging into the pad of his paw and drawing painful sparks through his body. He couldn't lose Igneous too! He had to keep him; he was the only friend he had left! Typhous claimed he cared but really was just playing him and laughing about it with the others, and Sleet had left him long ago. Savron wouldn't be alone, he couldn't!

"Igneous," Savron said, with as much sorrow as he could muster.

The red dragon tilted his head, the concern deepening. "Yeah Sav?"

"There's… there's something I need to tell you." Savron met Igneous' eyes, and donned his best mask of sorrow, the one that could tug the heartstrings of even his parents. He took a deep breath, and spoke.

"It's about Tirren."


The exhaustion only hit Voltlyn as the door to her room snapped shut. It had been a long, dragging day for her, made worse by the dull, worrying hours spent by Lyrith's cot as he slept off the injuries. Voltlyn yawned as she stumbled further inside. It wasn't that she regretted spending the time with him there, even when Pyrra, Typhia, and Tantius cautioned her against it, but rather that every moment waiting left her aching to talk.

A sigh escaped Voltlyn's muzzle and she flopped down on the cushions of her bed, snuggling down deep into the soft embrace of the fluff. During the days after he left, the cushions had been her refuge. There was an odd emotional comfort in the satin, even if that comfort was now stained with heartache. Voltlyn turned to the window, to gaze out at the fresh, new blackness of the night sky, only starting to be marked with silver, star-shaped scars. Soon there would be so very many of those markings, and eventually that would be all that anyone noticed.

Voltlyn tried to remember what else had happened this day, but to no avail. It seemed like it had happened so very long ago. Had she finally returned to the art club today? Or was that yesterday? Was the assignment she missed today, or was it two days prior? It was all a blur. Only the image of Lyrith lying on that cot was clear in her mind, and her anguish and frustration stark as his white hide. At least she would be able to talk with him tomorrow, like he had promised.

She would talk with him, but about what? Voltlyn shifted in her bed, her eyes shut tight as she tried to think. What would she say to him? That she was sorry? That she shouldn't have done that to him? She already said those things and they didn't matter. They weren't enough. She couldn't ask for him to take her back, since he was still angry with her and nothing she could say, or had said would make it right.

Realizing she was not actually going to get any sleep like this, Voltlyn rose and strode over to the window. She settled down on her haunches and gazed down at the few students still playing about the garden, couples rushing off into the bushes to delight in the sweet fruits they had found together. To lay in the forest at night together, daring things she had not the will to. Some were more cautious than others and others were dragons Voltlyn recognized. She had never been with him that way, not that she was even sure she had ever wanted to. Though she would not begrudge him for that. Others, however, she might begrudge for what occurred in the middle of the night beneath the bedsheet canopy.

Her friends had told her to admonish Lyrith, to shout at him when they finally had a chance to talk, to tell him that he was mean and rude and selfish and that she only meant well! But she couldn't. Even though a small, tiny part of her wanted to tell him that, to tell him how much he hurt her and how he shouldn't have been so much of a jerk! No. Calm. She needed calm. Anger would get her nowhere with him.

Voltlyn shook her head and tried again.

Shouting would get her nowhere; she knew that fact and anyone who really knew Lyrith would also understand not to provoke him like that. It was one of the things she'd wanted to help him with, to help him ease back into the social world. He always struggled with containing his anger, and it often got him hurt. If she could have just helped him be calm, if she had helped him be serene he could have lived a happy life.

Lyrith had always struck her as the loner, as the outcast, even before she'd gotten to know him. She could recognize a fellow outcast, a fellow victim with but a glance. It wasn't hard to see the scars behind those eyes when she had looked through a very similar set for years of her life. He seemed to notice that hurt in her as well, which was why he came to save her.

A small smile broke across Voltlyn's face at the memory of him slipping through that door, telling her he would help save her. What a surprise it had been! Her life had become a smog filled haze, one day leading to the next, the occasional successful bid on her paintings and interaction with a new student who didn't know not to mess with Torch were the only sparks of light in her fog. She had long since given up trying to find a way to escape. It had been easier to suffer and be safe knowing her mother would still have food, than to let the last of her family starve. Then he came in and showed her a way out that she'd never thought she'd be able to take and keep her family safe.

Voltlyn's laugh, small and frail, echoed around the chamber. She finally found someone who she could trust to help her, and he came through. Surely he knew how much that must've meant to her. Someone had actually cared enough to help her get through the pain. Yes there had been others who had tried to get close to her, but none who had actively sought what was wrong. Voltlyn's mind wandered to Danrah and her attempts at getting Voltlyn to teach her how to paint. She'd been so sweet, and Voltlyn could remember nothing that brightened up her day quite like that, even if she'd hid it. It was a shame that Torch had came by to ruin all of that…

Voltlyn shook her head to clear the thought away before it would pull her down that wretched hole of misery. She wouldn't let it, even if all the nightmares kept insisting on her reliving it. She gazed at the Dream Candles Vash had given her, which lay on the small table she and her friends had bought. None had been used since the day Lyrith had left. Voltlyn hadn't dared. What horrors might await her in her own mind? She doubted she could even call for help again and get an answer, and Voltlyn wanted nothing to do with the dreams if she was doomed to suffer for hours at Torch's paws.

Tearing her eyes away Voltlyn fixed them on the now empty garden. How long had she been reminiscing? What had she been thinking about again? Ah yes, what she might say to Lyrith!

With a shake of her head Voltlyn wondered what she might do. She was so very thankful to him for saving her. That's why she had gone into his mind. She'd just wanted to help him! He was so very hurt, and in so much pain that she couldn't just sit around and do nothing! He wouldn't have let her suffer like that if he was in her place; he didn't let her suffer like that when he was in her place. She only ever wanted to help him, like he helped her. Even if it was small, even if it was so very tiny, she wanted to make him stop hurting like he'd done for her.

That's all she ever wanted.

Voltlyn paused, a frown creasing her brow. Was that all she ever wanted? Was the entire reason she had gone to help him, followed him into danger, joined with Savron's gang, and gone on adventures because he'd saved her? Was it just to repay that debt? Voltlyn turned away from the window and raised her eyes to the door, looking towards the memory of the white figure huddled on a cot, twisting and turning, whimpering in pain and in terror. She thought back to the time she had spent with him. After he saved her she had followed him around as often as possible, even though he never asked it of her. She'd been so thankful for him saving her that she wanted to show her gratitude any way she could. He was her saviour after all. When Savron had run off to Grasbronda, Voltlyn had seen Lyrith about to follow after them and insisted on coming. She didn't want to leave him alone when he could be in danger. She wanted to help him if he ever got in trouble, which he did. Then the fight between him and Vash happened. That was where she learned the first part of his past, and just how similar they actually were. That was when she saw where she could help him. She could help him open up and finally have a chance to heal.

Lyrith lay on a cot, having just been rescued after being kidnapped by a sorcerer. He was wounded, swollen and paralyzed. The poison would give him nightmares and visions of horror. The coffinstalker spiders had gotten him.

Voltlyn shut her eyes as her vision started swimming, hot streaks running down her cheeks. The dates they had gone on together were the first she had ever enjoyed. She had never liked Savron's adventures. The adventures were too frightful and battle was not a fun pastime for her. Yet Voltlyn could remember none of the conversations they had on their dates. It had all been inane chatter between them and talk about their assignments. There had only ever been one thing Voltlyn had wanted to say to him, and it was a conversation only he could start. It had all been an attempt to make him open up to her, to soften his shell and to finally lower his guard. What had she wanted to do after that? What would she do once he was changed and happy?

There had never been an after. All she had ever wanted was to help him get past his trauma. There was only a blank wall beyond that point, formed of bricks mortared together with his happiness and a debt finally repaid.

Voltlyn collapsed onto her bed, paws on her head. Had there really been no love? Thinking back, she remembered joy at him agreeing on a date, but that was just because he seemed to be growing closer to her. None of it was like the books she'd read, nor like what her friends had described their crushes to be like. She didn't remember any passion, only eagerness at his presence.

With a sniffle Voltlyn looked up and saw herself in the mirror. Tears trickled down her face, her ocean blue eyes watering. She tore her gaze away from the mirror, her gut clenching at the sight, at how pitiful she looked. She'd been the damsel to Lyrith's hero, and she'd jumped straight into his paws without waiting to see if he'd be there to catch her. She'd been so long without care, without company, without any affection that she tried to reward the first to actually act out to save her with something he never wanted or sought. She'd tried to repay a debt that Lyrith had never asked to be repaid; it had always been a kindness. He helped her because it was the right thing to do, and never expected her to do the same for him. Lyrith could take care of himself, after all, and only wanted help when he asked for it.

Voltlyn's snorted and she shook her head, the room lighting up with sparks. She threw herself into the role of damsel without a second thought! Ever since he saved her she had been relying on him! She went with him almost everywhere, even into danger. She had dedicated herself to helping 'save' Lyrith and spent so much of her life and free time on it. Everything else she'd let happen to her, had accepted passively, not taking any initiative of her own. The only thing she'd done for herself was seek out the Art Club, and that was almost a year after being saved from Torch! Even the candles themselves were a gift from Vash, who she had to rely on to supply them for her and to keep her safe. She'd asked her friends to help support her, to be with her at all times even when she was asleep in case something went wrong. She'd asked Lyrith the same before he left. She couldn't even deal with her own problems without help.

Voltlyn took a deep breath, all traces of tears in her eyes gone. She looked to the candles and approached them. Did she regret having her friends help her? No, she would never regret keeping her friends close, but she should never have leaned so heavily on them, she should never have relied on them to solve every problem she had. She was better than that.

During her time with Torch she had to bow and scrape and rely on another dragon, but even then she had gone out and done things on her own. She had relied on herself as much as she could to get by, and to support her mother. Before Torch Voltlyn had to support her mother entirely, and did everything on her own; how many jobs did she have back then? She couldn't count, but there wasn't a day that went by that she hadn't worked less than two. She would not go back to those times, but she also wouldn't let herself become trapped yet again by relying on everyone for everything.

Voltlyn produced a candle and placed it on the ground before her. She left the room, her pawsteps filled with purpose as she swiped a lit candle from the wall and brought it back to her chamber. She used it to light the Dream Candle, and then placed the mundane candle in the tub. She'd put it back later.

She sat down by the Dream Candle, inhaling its fumes deeply. She would deal with Torch now, and she would deal with it her way. She would be a hero's damsel no longer.

The tree was not much different from the first time Voltlyn had entered her own mind. The trunk stood tall, towering far above the rest of the forest, its branches reaching into the clouds around it. Many of the branches were broken, torn from the tree as if by a great gale, though most of those branches had since begun to grow again, and they had nearly reached the clouds that were Typhia and Pyrra. There were only two differences Voltlyn could see, the first was where she had appeared. She did not appear in a room of old, nearly forgotten memories of her childhood, but rather at the very top of the tree trunk itself, to look down over the withered, ravaged husk her tree had become. From here she could see the entirety of her tree, and all of the houses that were built into it. The second change was Lyrith's cloud.

No longer netted among her branches the white cloud that was Lyrith had broken free, having torn through the canopy to float high above the branches. Lightning cracked and thunder roared out from the off-white clouds, some striking the uppermost branches of the tree, tearing the grasping wood tendrils away if they got too close.

Voltlyn's eyes closed at the sight, and she took a deep breath. The air was shockingly normal here; even at this height each breath was rich and fulfilling. Yet there was also an odd taste to it, and it was thick with moisture and the taste of something hollow and ashen, as if she had just swallowed a bit of smoke.

Along the horizon dark clouds emerged, thick and black like a great storm of ash had risen from a distant fire.

Voltlyn felt her limbs freeze in place at the sight, and her breath catch in her throat. He was coming. She shut her eyes as her breath returned, ragged and desperate, her limbs trying to free themselves so she could turn and run.

"No!" she shouted to herself, forcing her body to hold still, and her breathing to calm. She would not be overtaken by fear this easily. She was here for this very reason. She would fight him, and she would not let herself succumb to the same terror that had swallowed her the first time.

The storm neared, the black clouds flashing with red lightning, formed of fire and smoke that scorched the blasted forest below. Voltlyn winced with each flash of it, the distant sounds of deep laughter echoing in the place of thunder. The clouds began to twist into the shape of a dragon, enormous and bleak, its great muzzle open in an expression of mocking spite.

Voltlyn swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat, an action as difficult as swallowing down an actual lump of coal. She took deep, steadying breaths as she calmed herself. It was too late to turn back now, not that she would have. If she didn't do this and do it on her own four paws then she would never be able to get past Torch. She would not call for help no matter how bad it got.

Voltlyn's ocean blue eyes opened and she stared at the nearing storm with all the determination she could muster. She unfurled her wings and felt a stiff wind under them. She could fly here, unlike in Lyrith's mind.

With a flap of her wings Voltlyn raced to the edge of the trunk and took off, soaring up into the air, flying directly towards the coming storm. She did not let herself look away, did not even blink as the face of Torch formed in the clouds, as fiery lightning built in its throat, or as its blast of wind and thunder hit her like the mocking hammer of his old words. Slave. Pet. Puppet. Doll. Gemstone.

"My name is Voltlyn."

The maw of the storm slammed closed around her and the world was engulfed in darkness, with only the flash of red lightning to light the clouds around her. The wind buffeted her, catching her wings and sending her lurching up and down and to the side, and the laughing thunder of the storm hit her once more.

Voltlyn pulled her wings close and dived straight down the gullet of the storm, heading deeper, and deeper, and deeper until there was nothing but darkness.

The ground appeared before her and Voltlyn snapped her wings open to catch herself from hitting the ground. She tried to pull up into a levelled dive but she had been going too fast to turn. Her wings yanked her back, keeping her from hitting the ground at full speed, but even still she crashed, tumbling and spinning along the tiled floor of the bedroom until she hit a wall, dazed.

Had this been the real world, Voltlyn realized, she would probably be dead. Her wings, at any rate, would have been dislocated from the force of the stop. Yet the pain was minimal, and only a slight ache throbbed throughout her body. Vash had told her that what happened in the dream world would translate to your real body, but it appeared that this dream wouldn't have killed her even if she had fallen the entire way down, like she had before; this was just a transition.

Voltlyn breathed a sigh of relief at the thought and rose to her paws, only to hear the clink of chains. She looked down and saw that her paws were bound together by manacles, which in turn were tied to a thick iron ball that kept her from moving at more than a shuffle. The manacles dug deep into her scales, and she winced once more as they cut into the bruises that covered her body. She moaned and looked herself over, seeing that the bruises she had thought she'd gotten from the fall were actually paw shaped and marred with claws.

A condescending snort of laughter sounded from the corner of the room, causing Voltlyn's head to snap up. Across from the chamber she could just make out the crimson figure of Torch leaning against a bed of pillows, surrounded by the faded, faceless outlines of his friends.

"So you've finally arrived, you certainly took your sweet time."

Voltlyn felt a shiver race through her scales at the sound of his voice, so hauntingly familiar. She could already almost feel it spoken against the back of her neck, his breath hot and sticky.

"I hope the slow pace you took to get here was worth it, pet," he said, his voice turning to a snarl. "Because I was already pissed off before thanks to that daft fool Igneous, but now you've got me riled up as well. I certainly won't be taking a slow pace with you."

The figures around him laughed an empty, soulless laugh. None of their eyeless faces turned to her when they did, as if they didn't even know she was there. Voltlyn tried to swallow, but found her throat was dry as stale bread.

"Get over here, now. I need my battle horn blown before I make war with you."

Torch leaned back and spread his hind legs, revealing a horrifyingly familiar shape standing sharp against the golden-yellow of his belly. Voltlyn jerked her head away, her chest rising and falling as she began to hyperventilate. Memories began to flicker before her eyes and she felt her legs begin to shuffle towards him obediently, though slowly thanks to the chains.

She heard Torch grunt in annoyance at how slowly she moved, and saw him shift on the bed of pillows in agitation. She shut her eyes to block out the view. What was she doing here? She didn't want this; she didn't want to be subject to him again! She had to escape; she had to find a way out, before he made her… before he took her… before…

She'd done this before, and this was exactly what she had done. She'd tried to run, she'd tried to hide. She had to be saved, again. Was she really that weak?

Voltlyn stopped, halfway across the room and forced her eyes open, to stare at the waiting Torch and his friends.

"No."

Torch frowned and sat up. "What?"

Voltlyn took a deep breath, and tried vainly to stop her limbs from shaking. "I won't do it. You… you can't b-boss me around anymore. I won't let you."

Torch's face twisted in rage and he stood up, his body seeming to grow in size. "You wont let me? You dare tell me what I can't do you scale-sick whore!?" He took hold of the table in his way and hurled it to the side, where it splintered against the wall. He stormed towards her, growing even larger until he stood three times her height, the shape beneath him never once fading, and swelling with him as he grew.

Voltlyn took a step back, her eyes going wide as he approached, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he raged. The chains clinked and Voltlyn looked down at them, realizing they were getting in her way.

"Fine, if you won't come to me," Torch said with a growl that rumbled the entire chamber. "Then I will come in you the same way I did that first night, and by the end of it you wouldn't be able to tell if you're a lightning draken through the blood!"

The faceless figures of his friends stood and melted into the walls, vanishing from sight, leaving the two of them alone in the shack. Voltlyn glanced around, startled by the change of scenery. No longer were they in a bedchamber, but rather a strangely familiar place… a gardening shed of all places. Voltlyn's gut clenched, the memory returning of the first night. Oh ancestors no.

Torch had changed as well, younger and dressed in the rich finery of Charah's estate, but he was just as large as he was before. His muzzle frothed with rage, and his eyes were bloodshot as they raked Voltlyn's body, which in turn was clothed in the maid smock and white cuffs she had to wear as a servant.

"I can't believe that stupid strumpet wouldn't let me have her," Torch snarled, "the bitch refused to follow through! Dammit, I was looking forward to that. Gah, now I'm going to have to figure out another way to relieve the stress!" Torch's eyes fixed on Voltlyn's rear-end. His sneer twisted into a grin. "And I think you're just the one to do it. You wouldn't want me to add even more things to your debt, would you?"

Voltlyn tried to take a step backwards but felt her rear bump against the shed wall. She turned around, to find that there was no room behind her to maneuverer. It was just as small and confined as she remembered it. She swallowed and turned back. The only exit was behind him, and there was no way around his giant body that somehow managed to fit inside the tiny room. She was trapped.

Not that she meant to escape. She wouldn't run anymore. She started to take a step forward, only for her paws to catch on the chain. She looked down in frustration. Why were these still here? She wasn't in the old dream anymore!

"Bow down and serve me, like a good paw-maid," Torch said, licking his muzzle. Then he pounced, his whole, enormous body lurching towards her. Voltlyn, desperate, focused herself, willing the chains away. It was her dream, nightmare as it was, so it had to obey her.

The chains wavered for a moment and then vanished. Voltlyn dove forward curling into a ball to avoid him just as he crashed down behind her. Voltlyn let out a gasp of relief, only for his tail to swipe her legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground.

He was on her before she could scramble back to her paws, his huge body slamming down atop hers, pinning her to the ground. His slavering jaws clamped down on the back of her neck, his fangs digging deep and drawing blood. Voltlyn let out a howl of pain and felt her upper body get forced to the ground by his unrelenting might. His claws dragged against her scales, tearing the apron away, and carving long, bloody lines in her scales as he pushed himself into position over her. Voltlyn shuddered as an eager purr rumbled against the back as his chest pressed down against her, to keep her locked in place.

Voltlyn did what she hadn't dared to do before, what she hadn't thought to do: She drew down deep and unleashed her fury.

Before she could never have done it. Not only had she never been trained in it, but because doing so would certainly cripple Torch, if not outright kill him. To use a fury on him, a prince, a noble, her employer, would likely send her and possibly her mother to the death sentence regardless of the circumstances. So she had taken it, sobbing out of fear for her own life and her mother's as he forced himself on her, jaws dug deep into her throat as if ready to tear it out at any moment. Here, in her dream however, there was no such worry.

Torch reeled back, his roar shaking the timbers of the shack and shattering the glass of the windows. Voltlyn, bloodied but still able bodied, staggered out from under him. She turned to face him, refusing to take the easy way out and leave the shack. It was here or not at all. The shack was small, with no room to maneuverer, and it was a terrible spot to find ones self in a fight, her combat lessons with Terrador had taught her that much. Considering Torch's fire element, the shack would have been a death trap for her to be in.

This wasn't a normal fight though, and so the normal rules didn't apply. No, this was her dream, and she made the rules.

The first of such rules was that Torch was never as large as he was here.

The gargantuan body of Torch, still twitching from the blast of lightning Voltlyn had just hit him with, shrank, growing smaller and smaller until he was the proper size of a dragon his age, which was only a bit taller than her. He hadn't been nearly so big when Voltlyn had first started to serve him all those years ago, as he had only truly begun to exercise a month after he had first had his way with her, and just after the first time he'd failed his test by Inferna. In some ways, he was even scrawnier than her, with a thin neck and sagging, slim shoulders.

Torch staggered back, and looked down at his flimsy body, confused. Then he shook his head and glared up at Voltlyn with utter spite. "I command you to submit to me, wench!" he snarled, stomping over to her.

Voltlyn took a deep breath, her body now steady, if still throbbing from the wounds he had inflicted upon her. "No. I am no longer your slave, Torch, and I never will be again."

The second rule she had was that he was no longer as resistant to her lightning as he had been before. Like his growth, the rules of the dream combat were always dependant on her emotions. Before, the first time she had tried to fight him, she had let her emotions rule her, and she had let Torch grow more invincible and unstoppable the more panicked she had become. He had grown in size and power to match her fear of him, and with each failed lightning bolt she had convinced herself of his invulnerability to it. Dream magic was alien, but even it had rules, and here, where her mindset was what commanded the world, the first thing she had to learn was to control her own emotions and thoughts. She wouldn't let Torch ever frighten her again, or at least, not for long.

Torch pounced at her again, his roar echoing around the shack, but Voltlyn stepped forward and swung a paw at his face, slapping him hard, with a surge of lightning thrown in for good measure. He jerked to the side and slammed into a wall of gardening tools. He lay sprawled among the fallen tools, his muscles spasming; his eyes were wide as he stared up at her in shock.

Voltlyn glared down at him, standing tall and firm. "N-no. Bad Torch. Y-you are not permitted to touch me. You never have been."

Torch hauled himself up with a snarl smoke drizzling from his nostrils. "You will pay for–"

Voltlyn slapped him again, this time on the other side of the face, sending him staggering off to the side once more. She added a bit of claw this time, just for emphasis. Tears sprang to Torch's eyes from the pain and he took a step back, his muzzle falling open.

"I… I… I'll tell mother about this!" He shouted, his voice, no longer as deep as it was, almost breaking. "You can't get away with slapping me! Do you know who I am? I'm Prince Torch! I–"

"You are nobody." Voltlyn said, her voice sharp as it cut through his burgeoning rant. "Y-you are a p-pathetic little rat who… who must overpower and humiliate others to feel even the slightest bit proud of himself! You're a slimy, hateful little dragon who cares for the feelings of nobody but his precious mother and himself, all the while pining for the support of your absent daddy and the Guardians who never once respected you because of how spiteful you are. Y-y-you're a brat who can't even preform sexually unless it's to someone simpering and whimpering under you, because that's the only time you feel like you have actual authority over someone. Half of the time I wonder why any of those dragons even hanged around with you, but we both know that it's only because you're a prince, and the only thing that's worth is the prestige it came with. None of them actually cared about you, and the gang of friends you so carefully built dissolved the moment you weren't there. Most of them never even once tried to defend you after the verdict, and I don't think one even came to your trial. I honestly wonder if I'm more disgusted by the fact you touched me without my permission, or because I have lain with a dragon as utterly wretched as you are!"

Voltlyn stopped her rant, panting for breath. Tears had welled up in her eyes, and the sounds of her shouts that echoed around the shack slowly faded away. Torch had backed himself up against the other side of the shack. He had grown so small that Voltlyn could have trapped him in one wing. He shuddered, quivering and quaking as he stared up at her, his face full of horror and tears at her words. A pang shot through Voltlyn's chest at the sight, though more out of shame at letting such spiteful words leave her muzzle than at what she had done to him. She should never have let herself go so low.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath and swallowed back all of her tears and words. Then she stepped forward.

Torch flinched back, trying to shield himself with his wings. "N-no! Don't hurt me, please!"

Voltlyn bent down and gripped the hatchling-sized dragon in her jaws, picking him up by his back. He squirmed in her jaws, but he could not escape her grip. Voltlyn turned and headed for the shack door. She shoved it open with her shoulder and stepped into the jail cell that she had known lay behind the sturdy wooden door. She moved over to one of the cells, which opened as she neared, and tossed the tiny Torch inside. He landed in a heap. After a moment he got up, turned to try and escape, only for the cell door to slam shut.

Voltlyn watched as he tried to squeeze through the bars, but failed because they were too tightly packed. After a long moment of trying and failing, he looked up at her with hate filled eyes.

The topaz dragoness interrupted him before he could spit any final words. "Nothing I ever do, T-Torch, will ever make me f-forget what you've done to me. N-nor will I ever be able to forgive you for it. But… I want you to know that I'm not going to be afraid of you anymore, nor will I let you haunt my life… I'm ready to move on, and so I can't have you holding me back anymore."

Voltlyn turned away, heading for the exit beyond which was the smoke laden fog that led to wakefulness. She stopped at the door, turning back only once. "No matter how many times you escape from here, no matter how many times you try to terrorize my dreams or force me to remember what you did to me, know that I will always be coming back here to send you right back to this cell. One day you'll just be too small or too weak to escape, and I will finally be free of you." Voltlyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath as her paw reached for the door. "Goodbye."

With that Voltlyn pushed the door open, and stepped out into the fog.

Voltlyn's eyes opened, and she gazed up at the ceiling, where the smoke from the last remaining snub of the candle drifted. A smile touched Voltlyn's muzzle.

She knew what she had to say to Lyrith.


The door to the Guardian chamber burst open and Lyrith tumbled inside, Inferna following after a moment, tripping over him. They lay dazed on the ground, vision spinning, causing the figures of the gawking Guardians to swirl into a rainbow of colours.

Lyrith groaned and curled up, his body still throbbing. "I… don't think… I should have… sprinted… like that…"

"Probably not," Inferna mumbled in agreement, pulling herself up to her paws with a wry smile. "But at least we know you could manage it in your condition."

"Inferna, Lyrith? What in the Ancestors' names is going on?"

Lyrith blinked and peeked out from under his wing, to look at the Guardian's table. All the Guardians, except Inferna, sat at the large round block of stone. Volteer and Cyril sat across from one another, typical of the two rivals, with Terrador and Cynder between them. Spyro sat beside his mate, staring at them with wide, curious purple eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his muzzle. They were the ones Lyrith had expected to see. Lyrith did not expect the small crowd of well-dressed dragons, cheetahs, moles, canines and even a few avians seated along the walls, with General Aephion slumped bored in front of them. There were only a dozen or so, but all of their eyes had turned to him.

A sneer flickered across Lyrith's muzzle and he quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to see the way they stared down their snouts, or beaks, at him. His eyes turned back to the Guardian table and settled on the four figures standing before the Guardians, Captain Flame sitting behind them. Flame gave Lyrith and Inferna a brief wave, before returning his gaze to his charges, while the four simply stared at Lyrith slack jawed in horror. Lyrith's red eyes narrowed at the sight of them.

Three of the four he recognized outright: the lightning draken, and the twin earth dragons. He'd seen them around the Temple since as long as he'd been here, though the twins had been much more active in taunting him. The last time he'd seen them, however, was when they 'd been tormenting a poor fire dragon with his journal for being gay. Lyrith turned his gaze to the fire dragon sitting beside them, staring at Lyrith with as much spite as he could muster, though it paled compared to the three beside him. The white puzzled for a moment over the dragon, wondering for a brief moment if the red had been the one they'd bullied. He dismissed the notion a moment later, deciding that couldn't be. This dragon didn't have the horns Lyrith remembered him having. He was probably just another member of whatever gang these thugs had created after Torch had left.

"I thought you were taking the day off to take care of Lyrith?"

Lyrith blinked and shook his head to clear it, before returning his gaze to the Guardians. Inferna had stood and approached the table, sheepishly, a weak laugh dancing on her muzzle.

"Well, I was," she glanced back at Lyrith with a smile. "But he's recovered remarkably well and we figured we'd drop by."

"Indeed. It looks as though he hasn't been injured at all."

Lyrith turned to glare at the voice coming from the side of the chamber. A dark blue ice dragoness, decorated in gold and green silks stared at him from under her wing, which was raised to cover her snout and smug muzzle. Lyrith's hackles raised. Was she trying to avoid smelling him, the bitch? Or was she just hiding her grimace of disgust?

"Well, Countess Ircillia, he was, I can assure you," Inferna turned to her to meet the draken's gaze with a flat stare of her own. "He was already recovering when I arrived and he was covered in cuts and bruises and quite a bit of blood."

The cheetah beside Countess Ircillia spoke up, his voice ringing throughout the hall. "I find it quite hard to believe that any dragon could heal so fast from what I heard happened to him. As renowned as Lady Aquina's talents for healing are, water magic has a limit to its healing powers."

There was a murmur of agreement in the crowd of nobles and Lyrith rolled his eyes at the sound, almost ready to gag at the smug ignorance to their voices. Why did there have to be nobles here? As if the Temple population wasn't irritatingly self-important enough at times.

"Aswehaveinformedyou manyatime," Volteer chattered, pausing only to clear his throat, "youngLyrithherehasa veryspecialtalentthatinvolves the ability to heal. It is a most remarkable, stupendous, awe-inspiring ability that we are currently studying to…"

"Yes, an ability that we all have doubts existing outside of fairy tales," Countess Ircillia interrupted, turning to the other nobles with an exaggerated gesture of her other wing. "Only fairies have the power to heal wounds to such an extent, and fairy dragons have been extinct for centuries." Ircillia eyed Lyrith coolly. "Nor are they known to be so… bland in appearance. I see no butterfly wings on this little… student of yours."

Lyrith huffed and stood, no longer able to take all the bickering. He limped over to the Guardian table, paused to give the four thugs a sneer, and then jumped onto the large stone platform.

"We have already discounted fairy dragons for a number of reasons," Cyril had started. "Not just for that reason but also because the powers don't – Lyrith, what are you doing?"

Lyrith strode to the center of the table, and raised a wing for all to see. Then he lowered it, gripped it in his fangs, and jerked it to the side with a sickening snap. His world flashed with pain and he let out a yelp, nearly collapsing to the table. Through the hammering of Lyrith's heart he heard the nobles fall silent. At least that managed to shut them up. With a grimace he steadied himself and focused, doing his best to keep his wing lifted to show them as it began to twist back into place, the gashes from where his fangs had gripped sealing over as well. The bone finally set with a crack and Lyrith flexed his wing to show them that it was fully healed. The pounding in his head and chest hadn't stopped, but the pain had almost completely receded. The life crystals had restored his reserves of power after all. Thank the Ancestors for that.

"There... You've seen it…" Lyrith panted, turning to stagger to the side of the table. "Now stop arguing and get back to whatever the hell you were doing." Lyrith stopped in front of the four thugs and looked down at them, his blood-red eyes narrowed. "Speaking of which, yes, these are the assholes responsible. I can remember enough to recognize them for beating me senseless."

"W-wait a moment!" the lightning draken began, but Lyrith turned and stepped off of the table to stagger back to Inferna. She met his eye and looked down at him, worriedly, but he gave her a wry smile that felt only slightly lopsided. He probably shouldn't have stretched his powers anymore than he already had, but it was the easiest way to get them all to be quiet. His throbbing headache didn't need anymore shouting.

The chamber was silent for a long time, and Lyrith could feel all of the eyes staring at him. He did his best to ignore it, though his scales crawled anyway. He slumped down beside Inferna, lying on the stone floor to rest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Countess Ircillia lower her wing, to peer at him with narrowed eyes, as if appraising a particularly shiny gem she wanted to buy.

Spyro cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the chamber. "Well, that was quite the show, thanks by the way Lyrith."

Lyrith waved his previously broken wing, a small grin touching his muzzle.

Spyro continued, gazing about the rest of the chamber. "I think we should get this trial wrapped up. I'm convinced Lyrith is telling the truth. There's a history of him getting attacked, and by some of these fellows' friends, so there's credence to what happened. I say you break for dinner and come back to discuss the matters that you all came here for."

"But… but there's no proof that…" the fire dragon started, only to be cut off by Cynder.

"Wintra was a direct witness and was the one who gave your names. We have two witnesses that can confirm it was you, and you have yet to give a stable alibi. I'm also inclined to believe Lyrith."

The four slumped and Lyrith raised an eyeridge in surprise. This was over much faster than he thought it would be. Inferna must have seen his expression and beamed, wrapping a wing around his shoulders.

"See? This is what can happen if you do things the proper way, instead of the way of the vigilante."

Lyrith pursed his muzzle. "It's never been this easy for me before."

"Well it shouldn't be as much of a problem as it was before, trust me."

"Only because the system works for me now, not against me, Miss Guardian."

Inferna winced at that and a pang struck deep in Lyrith's chest. He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, looking back up at her with an apologetic smile. "Never mind. Forget I said it, mom."

Her smile returned, though it wasn't as cheerful as it was before.

"We'll discuss punishment later," Terrador said with a grumble and rose from his seat. "For now you four will be grounded and confined to your rooms. You will not leave for any reason, save for guarded escort to the lavatory. Food will be brought to you, but there will be no more studies or socializing until we have determined what to do." Terrador turned to the nobles surrounding the hall. "We are all in agreement?"

The nobles hesitated for a moment, and then nodded one at a time. Terrador let out a breath of relief. Off to the side Spyro smiled and gave a cheerful wink to Lyrith.

The four thugs slumped and gave weak nods, before they were urged to rise by Captain Flame and escorted out of the room. Lyrith watched them go with a grin. Served the bastards right. His internal gloating was interrupted by a cough from Cynder's direction.

"I think that only leaves one more matter to discuss while all the nobles are here. Lyrith…"

The white dragon sat up, and immediately regretted it as his exhausted head began to swim from the sudden movement. What was it now?

"We are going to need you to apologize to Vash."

Lyrith snarled before he could stop himself. "No." Inferna flinched beside him but he didn't regret it.

A murmur raced through the nobles. Gossips. Sighs escaped the Guardians in unison and they glanced at one another with knowing frowns.

Cyril was about to speak, but Inferna stepped forward to cut him off.

"Lyrith," she said as she met his eyes. "Eclipse and Midnatla approached us after what happened and explained it to us. What Vash did was, apparently, a crime in their lands. Dream magic isn't supposed to be used without permission. But you also committed a crime in attacking him."

Lyrith snorted, though he felt his gut retreat and his throat go dry. He supposed that was true. This wasn't like at the orphanage, after all, where he could just get away with that.

Inferna continued, her voice soft. "The entire treaty just ground to a halt because of it. But they have agreed that if you apologize to Vash in public for hitting him, then they won't go after you, and the treaty can resume as normal. They even promised Vash himself will apologize to you in public as well if you do so."

"The shadow dragon royal family has an image to keep up," Volteer piped in from the other side of the table. "Vash using his powers in such a way would cause them great controversy among their tribes. As I understand it, even his adoption was a controversy, and this will not help their case."

A grumble rose in Lyrith's throat, but he didn't respond. He really didn't have much of a choice. Even unspoken it was clear what punishment awaited him if he didn't say two simple words, as painful as they would be. Practically speaking what he was being offered for what he'd done was a miracle and something he should take up without hesitation.

Lyrith groaned. "Fine. Whatever." At least he'd have the pleasure of seeing Vash squirm with him.

Inferna gave a vast sigh of relief, seeming nearly to collapse at the words. The rest of the Guardians smiled, their shoulders rising as if a great weight had been lifted off of them. Two words and everything could be fixed, huh? If only everything else in his life was that simple.

Terrador sighed and turned to the nobles. "Well it appears we've managed to deal with several national crises all at once. I think now would be a perfect time to adjourn to dinner for a celebration. We shall see you all tonight when we meet with King Eclipse to tell him the good news."

The nobles nodded and rose to file out, murmuring to themselves. Among their conversations Lyrith could hear his name several times, as well as the topic of broken wings. Just what he needed, attention from the Noble Gallery about his freakish powers! He sighed and slumped back down, his eyes closing.

Beside him Inferna settled down. He could feel her smile as she spoke. "Thanks Lyrith, that meant a lot to me, to us."

He only grunted in response.

Cyril's voice sounded a short distance away. "My what a productive day. I must thank you for your fortuitous timing in bringing Lyrith to us, Inferna… By my Ancestors, did I really just thank you?"

Inferna laughed. "Yes you did, Cyril, and I will never let you live it down!"

"Oh dear."

"Ifyoudhadn'tshownupwhenyoudid we'dhavebeenarguingaboutthecasefor anotherhourorso. Youhave saved us an enormous, colossal, gargantuan headache!"

"Speaking of which, that was quite the performance you put on, Lyrith. That must've hurt!"

Lyrith opened his eyes and found Spyro bent over him, his beaming purple face blocking out the ceiling. Lyrith sighed and nodded wearily.

"I couldn't stand hearing them blathering for another moment. So I shut them up as quickly as I could. It was less painful than listening to them."

"Well it worked," Cynder said from off to the side, an eyeridge raised. "I won't argue about that."

"Though I doubt they would've accepted it as easily as they did if Wintra hadn't come forward about it," Cyril said with a huff of pride. "I knew she had some good in her! She's as pure an ice dragon as you'll find after all!"

Lyrith shut his eyes and felt his frown return. Why did she do it? There had to be a reason. Did she want those bastards out of the school so she ratted them out? No, that didn't make sense; she hated him more than anyone else in the school. Why help him to get rid of a few lesser thugs?

Terrador sighed. "Of course they would listen to her. They don't want to insult Count Damial or his family. They have Pyron's ear after all."

"Well I'm glad we could get this all over with early!" Inferna said with a grin. "It makes it easier for all of us!"

Terrador turned to her, his brow furrowed. "I was under the impression that we'd talk with Lyrith about it tomorrow, not today. He was still recovering, after all."

Inferna paused, her head tilted in confusion. Her eyes lit up, remembering the entire reason Lyrith had nearly killed himself running to get here.

"Oh right! Well we were about to go and tuck him in, but then something amazing happened!"

The Guardians and Spyro glanced at one another, their expressions turning apprehensive. "Oh dear," Cynder said. "What is it now? Did something happen to a student?"

"Please tell me something didn't spontaneously catch fire again…" Cyril groaned.

"Ifyoucameupwithyet another prank for us, Inferna, I swear I will become most intensely, acutely, profoundly aggravated with you. Especially if it involves my…"

Inferna rolled her eyes. "No! Something that you would find amazing too! Ancestors none of you are any fun at all!"

Lyrith rose to his paws, wobbled, and nearly keeled over. He groaned, a dull throb aching in his limbs. Perhaps he shouldn't have broken his wing like that after all. He barely had any energy left after recovering from the beating, and he used up whatever he'd gotten back pulling that stunt. He let out a grunt, a wry smile touching his muzzle. Imagine if he hadn't had enough to fully recover his wing. That would've been embarrassing. Thankfully he'd drained those life crystals like he had.

A grimace twisted his muzzle. How could he possibly explain that? What did he even do? Was there anything that even matched what he'd done to those crystals? Lyrith took a moment to think, pondering the sorts of comparisons he could make to explain what he'd done to the crystals, but found nothing. A sigh escaped his muzzle and he pondered what next to do, but Inferna's reply caught his attention, the Guardian already blurting out what had just happened without thinking.

"We may have just discovered a new clue to Lyrith's powers! Take a look!" She produced the bag of life crystal husks that they'd swiped from the floor and emptied it in front of them. The grey, hollow crystals struck the ground with a clatter, and scattered about the paws of the Guardians. They looked down at them, puzzled.

Spyro was the first to speak. "He has power over Crystal?"

"I must admit, while intriguing this wasn't the hint I was hoping to receive," Cyril grumbled, though his voice was soft.

Inferna rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated gesture with her wings. "They were life crystals once! He didn't make them or anything!"

"Do you have any life crystals?" Lyrith asked, shambling over to the Guardians. "I can show you what I did if you do. I think I can replicate it. I'm hungry enough that I can manage."

Cynder produced one from a small satchel hanging from her neck. "I always keep a few spare on me, just in case."

Spyro glanced at her with amusement. "One too many ambushes?"

"You'd know, Violet."

Lyrith plopped down on his haunches and extended a paw, pad upwards as he waited. Cynder dropped it into his claws and he took a deep breath.

The hunger was there, the aching need for more life crystals. It sent throbbing pulses of desire through Lyrith, echoing from his spirit core. Never before had it been so easy to find. Pain had always made the core come out of hiding, but now it was letting itself be known, needy and demanding.

Lyrith drew on it, calling on the aching throb in his chest and focusing it on the succulently glowing red crystal in his hand. He delved deep into it, feeling the pulsing power within the stone. He drew it towards him, pulling on it until it broke free of the crystalline bonds. Red tendrils of energy crept out of the crystal and wrapped around his scales, soaking into his flesh like water into soil. The aching hunger faded, and the exhaustion went with it, though it never fully left Lyrith's tired frame, hunger's ghostly shadow hanging over him.

Lyrith looked up from the now grey crystal to the wide eyes of the Guardians, and placed it on the ground in front of him, so they could all get a look.

They stepped forward hesitantly, their eyes flickering between the crystal and Lyrith with noticeable apprehension. Lyrith's gut twisted, but he took another deep breath. He'd borne looks like this before, and he could do it again.

The Guardians were silent for a long moment, save Inferna who was bouncing on the pads of her paws, a stupidly wide grin on her face as she waited to see what they'd say.

Cyril broke the silence, "That was rather… peculiar."

Cynder glanced at Cyril with a roll of her eyes. "I think you might be underselling it a bit, Cyril."

"Fascinating…" Terrador mused, his voice a low rumble. "I wonder…"

Inferna erupted into laughter. "I know right? I think I might have left a crack in the floor where my jaw hit when I first saw it! I told you it was something spectacular this time!"

"Well, for once you aren't wrong," Cyril sighed. His gaze never left Lyrith, fixated on him with an intensity that made him shiver. For a moment Lyrith couldn't help but wonder if he'd just become an object of interest under a big magnifying glass for all of the Guardians to examine.

Terrador turned to Volteer, about to ask him what he thought of what they'd seen, only to pause. Volteer stared past Lyrith, his body tense and shivering. His muzzle moved, seeming to mouth gibberish as he stared off into space. Lyrith sagged in relief as the Guardians turned away from him to fix their gaze on Volteer who didn't seem to notice. Inferna had just started to creep up on Volteer to poke him, when the Lightning Guardian's eyes snapped back into focus and he let loose a great roar of triumph.

"By the Ancestors! I think I've got it!" He turned to the door and exploded into a flurry of motion, zipping past the Guardians, Spyro, and Lyrith almost too fast for them to see. He stopped at the door, it was halfway open when he turned to the Guardians, his body shaking with uncontrollable energy.

"Someone, findAideenandbringherhere! Alsobringthecrystaleggrelic! I'llbebackshortly."

Then he was out, the door slamming shut behind him. The Guardians glanced at one another, eyeridges raised. Then Terrador cleared his throat.

"I'll get Aideen and the Egg. You all stay here and wait for Volteer to return. Maybe experiment with a few of the other crystals while we're gone. We might learn something else useful."

Cyril, Cynder, and Inferna nodded in understanding and then rounded on Lyrith. The white took a step back, his eyes going wide as they seemed to advance on him, grins manic. He didn't even notice Terrador slipping out until the door slammed shut, by which time he was surrounded.

Spyro, who had sidled up to Lyrith during the talk, gave the white a friendly shake with his wing. He leaned down, his amethyst eyes sparkling with a light Lyrith hadn't seen before.

"Hey, that was really cool. Can you do it again?"

The next half an hour was much more tedious than Lyrith had expected, though he was grateful for it. The white didn't think he could take any more adrenaline pumping through his body. Most of the experimentation revolved around trying to absorb other dragon crystals, all with failed results. The magic crystals created a fuzzy feeling but he could never pull them out of the shell like he had with the life crystal, and there was no reaction at all to the spirit crystal; it remained inert and lifeless. None of the Guardians dared to try a fury crystal, though, since not only were such crystals rarely grown but also far too dangerous for someone untrained in the use of magic, to which Lyrith was thankful for. He wasn't too fond of the idea of trying to absorb fury crystals, especially after the first time he was offered one. And of course, none of them had any dark crystals to speak of, though Lyrith wondered if he was the only one to even consider them. They'd become a rather taboo topic in the Temple, and even in Magical History they were covered only in a one paragraph lecture that stated the obvious: Don't go near it.

Finally, the doors to the Guardian chamber swung open and Terrador stepped through, with Aideen following closely behind him. Before Lyrith's tired eyes could even focus on her the red draken wizard had rushed across the chamber to examine him. She circled around him with dizzying speed. Lyrith tried to keep track of her but soon found his world spinning, so he shut his eyes to calm himself.

He heard Aideen walk away, towards where he suspected Inferna, Cynder, and Cyril sat.

"Terrador told me what happened. Hath anything happened while he wath gone?"

"We haven't figured out anything else that he reacts to. We used a few of the other crystals but nothing came of it so far."

"Isthatso? Wellthatsimplifiesmatters!"

Lyrith's eye cracked open and he turned his head to the door, where Volteer stood. Several satchels were slung over his neck, each stuffed with books. He hobbled in, struggling under the weight of his load until he reached the table, where he dumped them all onto it with a sigh of relief.

"I hope you found what you were looking for," Cyril called over with a huff.

"OhIamcertainofit!" Volteer exclaimed, his voice almost too fast to follow. "Just give me a moment to organize the books!"

Lyrith heaved himself up to his haunches and stretched, trying to get feeling back into his body. He would stay awake as long as possible, even if it took a while; the former Albino would have his answers.

Aideen moved to help Volteer organize the books while Terrador loped over to Spyro and Cynder to talk with them about what exactly they'd done while they were away. All the while Volteer chattered with Inferna as he spread the books over the table.

"Imustadmitthatit'squitethe treattobe doing proper research again."

"I know! All those dusty, boring politics are such a drag! But come on Volteer! Tell me what you know! I'm going to die if I don't!"

"Oh hush! Let me be theatrical for once! I finally have a chance to have the metaphorical thunder of this scenario – no pun intended – and I would like to enjoy it!"

"I'd like to know too," Spyro interjected, leaning over Volteer's shoulder to look at his books. "So could we at least have a hint, even a small one?"

Volteer continued, ignoring the requests around him. "Aideen, you have the egg, don't you?"

Terrador answered, producing it from his satchel and passing it to the Guardian of Lightning. "Volteer," he said, his normally rumbling voice almost too low for Lyrith to hear, "you don't actually think that–"

"Depending on how this goes, we'll have our answer, Terrador, now shush. I don't want you giving it away if you really are thinking the same thing as me."

Lyrith watched the egg with blood-shot red eyes as Volteer presented it to him, Aideen placing another life crystal in front of him a moment later. The white looked the egg over carefully, not sure what was going to be different about this. Though perhaps he simply couldn't think through his foggy, exhaustion-and-pain-ridden mind.

"Lyrith," Aideen explained, her eyes fixed on his, "we want you to absorb the crystal while holding this. You remember what the egg does, right?"

"It absorbs small amounts of magic to reveal it." Lyrith heard himself say, as though through another muzzle.

"Yes! Precisely!" Volteer exclaimed. "Before we weren't sure if the egg was receiving your magic energies because of your crippled core, so we put it aside until we thought you were strong enough and had enough focus. Because your primary form of magic dispelled other magic, we figured it wouldn't work on the egg, but now we have another example of your power we can control. I wonder if it'll show on the egg or not."

The world focused and Lyrith nodded, much of the fog faded away. Lyrith clenched the egg in his claws and looked down at the life crystal with renewed intensity. He lowered his muzzle and took the crystal in his mouth, so he wouldn't let go of the egg and delved deep into it, beginning to draw out the energies within it once more.

There was a surge of energy through Lyrith as the power seeped into him, and Lyrith fixed his eyes on the egg, watching the gems encrusting it to see if any would light up.

Not so much as a spark lit up in the egg.

A snarl of frustration burst from Lyrith's jaws, and the now empty crystal he held in his muzzle was crushed between his fangs. The Guardians let out a chorus of groans, all save for Volteer and Terrador.

With a whoop Volteer leapt forward, snatched the Egg from Lyrith's paws and sent a surge of lightning through it. Several gems across it lit up. The Lightning Guardian twirled in delight and skipped off to the table, Lyrith watching him with muzzle agape. The other Guardians mimicked Lyrith's expression, though Terrador's was more amused than stumped as he moved with Volteer to the table.

Volteer proceeded to read from the first book on the table, which he had left open to a specific page.

"Crystal Eggs are an old relic that were used to examine, store, and even imprison magic, often spells or hexes, that were of note to the bearer of the relic. Blah blab blah used to examine hatchlings that's not relevant… ah, here it is! A Crystal Egg reacts to spirit magic of any kind and lights up its gems in accordance with the tune of the spirit energy inside." Volteer turned to the rest of the Guardians with an enormous grin. "The crystal egg can only react to spirit magic! It reacts to my magic, as well as many others, but not to Lyrith's! Therefore Lyrith does not make use of spirit magic like any other dragon does!"

A chill ran through Lyrith, his scales seeming to freeze. For a moment he thought he couldn't breathe.

Volteer picked up another book and began reading.

"Then, in regards to Lyrith's alternate negative magic form: Spirit magic is the ambient energy that infuses every part of the world. Spirit magic is formed of the expended Life Force of the still living and the dead, which then takes on the aspects of the world around it to become elemental in nature, binding itself to elements such as Fire, Water, Earth, Light, Shadow, or even arcane elements such as those of the emotional spectrum like Fear. It is through this binding of Life Force to the world and all living things in it that the deceased join the Ancestors, and the Ancestors gift us with knowledge, magic, and other ancient blessings."

Volteer turned to a third book, cleared his throat and began reading once more, his voice echoing around the now silent chamber.

"And lastly: life crystals were the first gift given to us by the Ancestors, a true miracle when our race was in dire need of aid. To aid their struggling children the Ancestors took their own Life Force and bound it to crystal, then buried it in the stone to grow so that any dragon may make use of it to heal wounds most grievous."

Volteer whirled on the rest of the Guardians, sparks flying from his scales, to brighten up the entire chamber. "So I propose to each of you, my peers, with this well documented and evidenced proof I have gleaned, that Lyrith is in fact a–"

"A dragon of life," Terrador whispered.

Volteer rounded on him, his eyes narrowed. "Terrador! Howcouldyou? Ihadbeenbuildinguptoaclimaxwhich youjuststolefrom me! How utterly rude, callous, and malicious of you to–"

Lyrith's voice rang out through the Guardian hall, incredulous. "Dragon of life?"

The conversation paused and all eyes turned to him. Lyrith stalked forward, only stumbling slightly now that the life crystal had relieved some of the exhaustion. He came to a stop by the table and glared up at Volteer and Terrador. He couldn't stop his limbs from trembling.

"Are you telling me I'm some sort of proto-dragon? My magic isn't so much magic as raw, unrefined energy… What is that supposed to mean? That I'm worse than other dragons? Better?" Lyrith bristled. "Because I don't like the sound of either!"

Volteer retreated a step, his back arching and eyes widening. "Oh, well, of course I'm not saying anything like that Lyrith! That isn't even the name for it, but rather something we came up with as the best way to describe you!" Volteer cleared his throat sheepishly. "In truth there isn't a name for what you are just yet."

Lyrith paused at that. "No name? Am I the first?"

The white felt Terrador step up beside him and lay a paw on his shoulders, which he shook away. Terrador took a deep breath.

"It's possible you are. We lost many books during the war with the apes and Malefor during his return. If there were records of another dragon like you existing, which isn't out of the question, they have long since been burned."

Lyrith sat back and groaned, clutching his head with his wings. He wished he wasn't as tired for this as he was. He needed to hear this but he could barely understand what was going on.

"In truth, this is really just a theory, though one I am quite certain of myself," Volteer said with distant eyes. "But so far it all seems to fit."

"Yeah, actually I think I see it too," Spyro piped in, looking away from the books he had started reading. "It's actually pretty simple when you think about it, almost obvious. A major part of your power was healing after all, which is a key aspect of Life Force."

Cynder cut in. "What threw us off was the aura."

Volteer nodded in agreement. "Yes, that took me quite the long time to justify, but I believe I know how it works." Volteer cleared his throat and took on his lecture voice.

"When Lyrith activates his aura he creates a second layer of Life Force around him, with which to feel out nearby sources of spirit energy," Volteer gestured a wing over Lyrith, which caused the white to snort and glare up at him with narrowed eyes. Volteer did not seem to notice. "The tendrils of Life Force react to spirit energy sent his way. Spirit energy, as I informed you earlier, is comprised of Life Force tied to one or several elements. Therefore I surmise that Lyrith's tendrils react to that Life Force building block of magic and simply pull it out of the magic, causing it to collapse before it can even touch him!" Volteer beamed. "It would also explain the small clouds of mist that appear around Lyrith, as that would be the life energy being torn out of the magic appearing briefly to our eyes in reaction to the tendrils."

A moan escaped Lyrith and he lay down. Standing was too much effort right now; he needed all his energy to process this.

"That bit of evidence you and Inferna found truly was what tipped me off," Volteer said, his chest puffed out. "With the nature of Life Crystals known to us, it immediately linked you to Life Force. I would have tested with the other crystals when I got back but–"

Lyrith cut Volteer off, his voice, while low, still rang through the chamber. "What do you mean by dragon of life?"

Volteer stumbled, his haughty, self-congratulatory speech crumbling away as he turned to Lyrith. Lyrith heard a snort of relief from Cyril.

"Well, I think the name is rather evident…"

"No, it's not." Lyrith glared up at Volteer, standing before he could stop himself, his fangs clenched together. He turned to the other Guardians, his breath coming out in harsh, grating puffs as he tried to keep his voice controlled. "What does 'Life' encapsulate? What am I supposed to be? What are my powers? What's the source of my powers?" Lyrith met Volteer's eyes again, his vision starting to swim. "Why am I different from any other dragon? Why am I so damn different?"

Lyrith's legs couldn't support him anymore and he fell to his haunches, panting. The chamber fell silent, and Lyrith didn't dare look up at the Guardians to see what their expressions were; he already knew. A wing was draped over his back and Lyrith resisted the urge to shrug it off and instead waited for their response.

Terrador's voice broke the silence, as solid, stoic, and cooling as his element. "I can tell you how, but not why, Lyrith. Or at least, as close as we can surmise how without very thorough investigations."

The white nodded, focusing his attention on Terrador and finally looking up.

"Firstly, it means that your spirit core isn't actually a spirit core. Judging by the way you absorbed Life Crystals and gain energy from it, it is likely that your ma… abilities are powered by your Life Force, which is harnessed through your core. That means that your core is what we refer to as an 'aberrant core.'"

Lyrith's jaw locked and his eyes narrowed. He inhaled sharply, to snap back at Terrador, only for Inferna, who sat beside him, to speak.

"Terrador! I expected better from–"

"It is not an insult!" Terrador retorted, his booming voice cracking through the air with the same quality as stone splitting. "It is a fact. Aberrant Cores are cores which gain their power from a source other than magic crystals, nothing more." Terrador took a deep breath, calming himself. The chamber had fallen silent and Lyrith had to remember to breathe after the Guardian was done.

"They are different and quite often a result of positive mutation through the breeding. Whole species of sub-elements possess Aberrant Cores. Plant dragons regained their magic from sunlight rather than magic crystal. Fairy dragons, allegedly, gained their power from moonlight, and had it amplified by the phases of the moon." Terrador paused. "The most common and well known of such dragons were, admittedly, blood dragons, who regained their magic by drinking blood."

Volteer continued as Terrador trailed off. "Such dragons are quite rare in the grand scheme of things. Of the countless sub-elemental dragons that exist, only a pawful possess such cores, which is why they are termed with such a potentially alienating phrase. Worry not, it reflects nothing on you as a dragon, just that you are unique in some ways."

Lyrith snorted and glanced away. "Great. Unique. I'm sure that'll help me integrate into society better than I already have." He shut his eyes, his gut churning. This all felt so… strange. His power was Life Force? Why couldn't it have been something simpler, something that made him stand out less? He'd stood out more than enough during his time here.

Terrador sighed. "Secondly it means that you likely can't contact the Ancestors, like most dragons can."

Lyrith's eye flickered open.

"This might not be much of a change for you, but I figure it should be mentioned. Dragons with Aberrant cores almost always have no ability to contact the Ancestors through meditation of any kind."

A long sigh escaped Lyrith's muzzle. No, it wasn't much of a change, but it was a disappointment. Nearly every dragon had that contact, had that connection with the ones who came before, and could hear their advice if they ever needed it. Few dragons called on the Ancestors more than a pawful of times in their lives, as the ancestors only answered a dragon's most desperate and important questions, but that option was always there if it was needed. As an Albino Lyrith had already been cut off from the Ancestors, but he'd hoped that maybe he might finally feel that warmth that all other dragons felt deep down, knowing they could call on help at any time.

"Spirit crystals also tend to have difficulty interacting with dragons with Aberrant Cores, though most gain at least some small benefit from it if I recall. Perhaps it is because Life Force is a baser form of Spirit Energy that you cannot gain any benefit from the memories of Ancestors. You are not tied to the elements or the world like the rest of us are."

"Then to answer your question on what are your powers and what you can do." Terrador glanced to Volteer, who shrugged. "That is the great mystery we'll have to solve. Aside from what we've seen already we don't know precisely what you can do."

"PersonallyIbelievethat your powers are derived purely from your own Life Force, so they will most likely be defensive in nature," Volteer declared. "Except for the ability to drain Life Force out of life crystals, as those are gifts to all dragons and therefore something you yourself can claim as your own."

Lyrith's stomach twisted into a knot. "My Life Force."

"Yes! Precisely!"

"If your power was over Life Force in general," Cynder interjected, stepping forward, "then your powers would more likely resemble that of a Necromancer. Their powers are over the Life Force of others. They can suck the life out of people, or invest it into corpses to make them walk again as the living dead. Of course, that kind of power over people and the ability to kill in such monstrous ways is the reason it's black magic." Lyrith felt Cynder glance down at him, though he couldn't see her face. "But as Volteer said, I'm fairly certain your magic wouldn't go that route, or you'd have manifested a life stealing breath rather than all of these defensive abilities."

"My Life Force," Lyrith said again, his voice low. He glanced up at Inferna, who was looking down at him, concerned.

"Is something the matter, Lyr?"

Lyrith tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. He turned to the other Guardians, stepping out from under Inferna's wing.

"What happens when I run out of my Life Force?"

Volteer opened his muzzle to reply, only to freeze. The room seemed to dim, a chill entering the air.

"Oh." Volteer whispered, his voice echoing around the chamber. "Oh dear."

Lyrith took slow, deep, shaking breaths, but his heart raced, hammering in his ears so loud it almost drowned out the Guardians.

They looked to one another, eyes wide, none daring to speak.

It was Cynder who stepped forward, her expression grim.

"Life Force is the energy that infuses all living things. It is the bond that keeps the soul tied to the body, and the body running while it is alive. One's Life Force wears out slowly over one's life. At a great old age, the amount of life force left can't maintain the body. The tie between body and soul snaps, and one dies."

Cynder stopped by Lyrith, her expression softening. Her voice was small but it did not falter. "If you're using up your Life Force with your power, then you're artificially weakening that connection every time you use it."

"And I'm shortening my lifespan." Lyrith closed his eyes, and tried to fill his lungs. His limbs wouldn't stop shaking, though from exhaustion or something else he couldn't tell.

Cynder nodded. Inferna inhaled sharply, and took a step back.

"Life Force is rare, in magical terms," came Volteer's voice, slow and frail. "It almost immediately turns into spirit energy when it leaves a creature. Most dragons can slowly replenish a spent store of spirit energy by passively absorbing it over the course of many hours. But Life Force… it's a personal power. It is tied to every creature individually. It isn't something that can just be absorbed passively."

"Of corsthe, that'sth just the long-term effect," Aideen spoke up from the back of the chamber. "Lyrith, how did you feel today after sthpending tho much energy from the fight?"

Lyrith's jaw clenched, trying to seal his muzzle, but he forced it open. "I was nauseous, hungry, and in pain. My everything ached and I felt utterly exhausted. Aquina… Aquina told me that the soreness likely came from so much healing. My muscle tearing and constantly regenerating caused some minor damage to my body…"

Lyrith could feel the Guardians looking at one another. The worry was pouring off them like waves.

"Life Force is a terribly powerful energy." Cyril said, startlingly close to Lyrith. "It is the source of most forms of magic, like the mighty Ice element. To harness it through a body beyond the normal amount likely would take a toll on any dragon, myself included. I suspect that if you use too much of it all at once that it tears your body apart."

"And if I go too far and draw too much of it out at once," Lyrith finished for him. "I'll die."

Cyril nodded. "Your body simply wouldn't be able to handle the strain."

Lyrith felt his shoulders slump. He couldn't focus his eyes, though he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but the ground. Aquina had told him that all dragons when they expend too much of their power and neared the bottom of their reserves felt exhaustion, pain, and even nausea, but not death. It was just spirit energy they were drawing from the outside, after all, nothing necessary for survival.

"Lyrith?" Inferna's voice came softly through the static in Lyrith's ears. "I… I'm…"

The white turned his head away and stepped away from the Fire Guardian. He was surprised he could still stand, given how his legs shivered underneath him.

Volteer spoke, his voice full of forced cheer. "Butdon'tworry, Lyrith! There'sstilllifecrsytals! We know that they're capable of replenishing your reserves! I'm certain that they can reverse the damage on your life span as well!"

"They're rare," Lyrith said. He couldn't even raise his voice beyond more than a murmur. "Too rare. They don't grow as fast or easily as magic crystals, and they're needed in hospitals. I doubt I could get enough to use like magic crystals and reverse all the damage done, especially over the course of my entire life if I end up using my power."

That shut him up. Lyrith took a deep breath and turned to the exit. They let him pass, nobody speaking as he stumbled away, not even Inferna. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, collapsing into it with the full weight of his body to make it move. He glanced back once, and saw their sagged shoulders and misty eyes. He jerked his head away, not wanting to see it.

He needed some time to think. He needed to be away from here.

Dardarax's Characters

Igneous, Miranda, Mirrolus, Savron, Tirren

Pyrra, Torch, Typhia, Voltlyn

Aephion, Aideen, Inferna, Ircillia, Lyrith

I HAVE RETURNED!

Wow, that hiatus lasted a long while, didn't it? Well it definitely has helped, because it gave me a good chance to improve my writing style, work out a few other kinks in my plan for Dark Legacy, and get a bunch of chapters done for all of you. I think I should be good and won't need to worry about another hiatus until Dark Legacy 3: Birthright is ready to be written. =)

As for the content... well I'm really happy I managed to time my Hiatus the way I did. This chapter had been planned for a long time, and as it happened the last chapter I posted (28) was right before this one, which meant when I returned I'd be able to give you all a really big, momentous chapter as thank you for all your waiting. Hopefully it has answered at least a few of your questions. =)

I'm going to push myself to have a chapter done every two weeks, like my original schedule had. Maybe it'll turn out to be a little too much for me, but I feel like if I push myself with a harder schedule I might be able to motivate myself to write easier. =) If it doesn't work I'll change it, but for now the next chapter will be posted on July 15th! I look forward to seeing your reactions then! =D