I was running.
The wind that beat against white sweat-soaked scales chilled me to the bone.
I glanced back, unsure of what I was running from. Red eyes on a pale form served as an unfriendly reminder.
Wait... The spectral white blur ghosted towards me. Why did it sound so familiar?
The demon that spoke with Cynder's voice was level with me now, pale green underbelly brushing underbrush that hadn't been there seconds earlier.
I almost ran into thin air before a paw slammed on my tail and jarred me to a halt.
Forcing a growl from my throat, I spun to face her. "Who are you?"
Still pretending to be her, I see. Well, you're not. If you were I would slit your throat. You can do what she cannot. I have come to beg you. When the time comes, don't do it. You're worth more than either.
I barely caught those words. Her body was sleek, her muzzle hooked, and she wore a dark grey choker and anklets. The horns that were on her head and the scythes on her wings and tail were shaped like Cynder's, but black as tar.
"What are you?"
A shadow wishing for death, that which is left abandoned for the sake of another. A shade from the future come to change fates.
Ruby eyes glimmered like fire as I backed away. The blindingly white dragon didn't look like a shadow to me.
We are more similar than you yet know. Though, in a way, my fate was forced on me and your heart led your own to you. Then again, it also led me to mine.
I shivered, trying to lift my wings—but they wouldn't move. Not an inch. My heart led her to her fate? That made no sense to me.
You are my doom, yet I can never fault you for it. As she could never fault you for it. Grow well, grow right, and grow less selfless. Cause not my death, that of an innocent stranger, and cause not your own.
"Who are you?" I shivered.
I am Symmer. I am all that's left when the fire fueled by love has consumed everything and left nothing.
...
When I woke , echoes from a dream I couldn't quite remember rang through my head. Groaning, I lifted my head only to let out a loud shriek of fear at the furred face that loomed not ten feet away.
It took me a moment to calm down, realising it was an old female ape—in a rocking chair.
A rocking chair? Really? I blinked a good half dozen times to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Sailors of the many races had often stopped at the old island sanctuary, and they'd brought their odd share of nicknacks with them. Chairs, carpets, yarn, wool, wood, toys—my stomach ached at the memory of my little baggie of marbles. The little stone and glass beads had meant so much to me. And now they were just...gone. Like everything and everyone else.
"There is far too much pain in you for one so young," an old crackly voice wheezed. I looked up at the ape-ess? What was a female ape even called? Her voice was flimsy as a feather, but it sounded sturdy too, somehow. Like an old weathered oak tree.
"I guess so, yeah." I looked at my forepaws somberly.
"What is your name, small one?" The name didn't sound insulting, or even like an endearment—it just was, and it was true.
"Myst."
"I have a feeling it is quite the fitting name." Her weathered voice had a certain rhythm to it, like a song would. She was right, too. Ten years gone, lost to the mists; a hundred villagers that only Kuro and I could remember. Cynder had gone, leaving for a grove of poison mist. My very vision had been lost to a mist of darkness that clung to me like tar!
"Yeah, it is." My voice was closer to breaking than glass.
"Little one, mist is not only about losing things—you could see it as what hides the future, what dulls the pains of the past. It numbs our pains and brings our weary spirits to rest when they are sick of this world with all its joy and all its pain. Without blindness, we would not give sight a second thought—and few do."
My pale eyes widened, "How?"
"The way you move, how well you hear me when my voice is all but silent. It tells tales, little dragon. And I have seen the effects of our old master's venom. He gained his power over it when it was used on he himself. It was never his, always the dark one's. Not until it ran like green blood through his veins was he corrupted. I was one of few of his apes who pitied him for what he had become. He was small and sweet once, taken care of by a dear friend who was later his prisoner. He loved her like a mother, but after the toxin took effect I had to help her to flee from him."
"Who was she—what was she? An ape like you?"
"No, she was a rare black feline—like Hunter. Her twin brothers betrayed her and are not worth mentioning. She ended up a prisoner to Malefor, and he used her to raise Spyro. She named him, and I helped her with olden Draconic. I had an old book on the subject. The first day we had him, he set her tail alight quite by accident with a sneeze. So, for his name we combined 'pyro'—or fire—with 'spiro'—or breath."
I chuckled, "Cynder is going to have fun with that one!"
She shrugged, "It is ape custom be named for such misadventures. Rorath means 'stumble'; my grandson did indeed stumble—right off a cliff. He was given the name Thistleheart because he rarely opens up. Also, he is bad at learning another's tongue or customs, and his mom once said getting through to him was about as easy as walking through a sea of thistle weed."
I laughed. "That's pretty bad, I bet he's never been fond of his name."
She shrugged, "For an ape, a name is a challenge. To improve who you are, to overcome your flaws. No ape looks down on another for their name."
I looked down, "What have I done? The few I killed, they had stories, they might have had families, homes, histories. I'm becoming everything I hated in the General..."
"Do not despair, child, your salvation lies in the reason we left—the reason we too will kill our own kind. The truth is in the nature of the curse cast on us by the Dark Master when our ancestors failed him. Somehow, if he returns, there will not be a race left to save. We do not know how, we do not know why—but we do know he plans to destroy us. We are not the only ones; war spreads death to all species, and it is worth the pain to end it. We owe it to you, to Azuri, to Bramble, and all the other little ones of the world."
Speak of the little devils and they will appear. On your back, out of nowhere. Pulling on your horns in little Azuri's case.
The Grandmother chuckled, "There are times I believe the two of you cheat all laws of physics. They were worried about you, white one. I had to guard you so that they would leave your side—they thought they hurt you somehow because you fainted right when they appeared."
"Er, you didn't hurt me," I said helplessly. Except mentally. A lot.
"Pway with us?" I was hit with two pairs of fluffy baby-ape puppy-eyes. Blue and amber. How did they even get their eyes that big?
Ancestors help me...