-Spyro-
I glanced at the pile of crud Sparx had previously thought might be important, consisting of a small canteen of water, an ape's fur comb, some playing cards coated with a strange material the apes had discovered through excessive use of burning oil for war machines, a box of toothpicks and a few strands from a broom.
Sparx hovered over my head, so weary that his glow had long since faded to a few sparkles.
"What really gets me is that there's those blow-up-y sticks right next store," he muttered dejectedly. "But it's heavier than I ever thought it'd be. I can't move it and it'd be perfect."
"The apes have always had a precariously lax protocol for explosives and a love for long fuses—the strings that attach to the bombs. Did you see any fuses?"
"None."
I sighed, fixing my gaze back upon the pile of wasted effort. The toilet paper caught my eye. "I have an idea."
The thrill of coming victory sparked Sparx's cheer, and he went off like the bulb of an oil-lamp above my head.
"Buggy, how nimble are your hands?"
"I can catch a butterfly flying as fast as I can without messing up the wings. Your point?"
I stuck one claw through the roll and proffered it to my insectine friend. "Pull and twist, be careful not to break it. Keep going until you get to the dynamite stores…"
...
I'd never heard a more satisfying explosion in my life, past sins with the General's bloodlust included. I grinned with my filed teeth as the wall splintered into pieces, hiding Sparx behind me. Rubble crashed to the floor in a cacophonous rumble and shattered the dark gems littering the room. Shadow magic removed, they splintered into true spirit gems and flooded into my hide just quick enough for me to draw earth power into my horns.
Racing forward as my side healed, green light adorned my horns as I rammed my head into the rubble and jerked it sideways—bringing what used to be a stone wall with it. It tumbled into the hallway and formed a hole on the side that led to the barracks.
No time to lose, I dashed from the cell, only looking back to be sure Sparx was trailing behind me. He was grinning devilishly and pounding one fist into his other palm. "Hell yeah! Don't forget the little guy!"
I smirked, turned my head around, and ran like hell was chasing me. The old stone floor scraped my paws, and I was forced to come to a halt by a corridor, claws screeching as I skidded to a stop.
Green light flooded inches from my forepaws with a faint venomous hiss that sent ice through my blood and bones. I barely caught Sparx with a wing.
"What is that?" the golden dragonfly asked tensely. "And it was going so well, too…"
"There's always time," I muttered tersely. "Stay right behind my head. I can take a hit from this, you can't."
Why didn't I know Dragon Time?
Drawing power into my chest, I pulled earth to form a spherical shield around me before hardening it into a boulder. The weight of the magic pulled at me. "Quick," I muttered.
That was not a fun few minutes. Vibration never did all that much for me. I careened from wall to wall with crashes that jarred my shoulders and sent jabs of pain through the remaining bruises in my sides that the spirit gems had not fully healed. I felt a grab at the base of one of my backblades as Sparx threw dignity to the wind and held on for life and limb.
I burst from the corridor panting heavily, only to find myself facing another. The deadly green beam haunted it as well.
"Great," I muttered. "We need a new tactic. Preferably before the apes catch us."
-Myst-
After Ignitus and Terrador arrived, things had little choice but to calm down. Terrador's 'I am disappointed in you' look was sufficient to fell an elephant, and Iggie had a way of looking at you just right to make it twist in your chest.
I didn't know how Cynder was so immune.
Viriti, Marina and Tanarus settled about as well as could be hoped for, though Marina and Cyril avoided each other like the living plague. Viriti, on the other paw, avoided nobody. She bounced around like a wrecking ball, talking a mile a minute to anyone she bumped into—regardless of their thoughts on her. Her enthusiasm could bring a smile to the coldest heart, and I just couldn't bring myself to fear the hyperactive ball of fur and scale. How was she older than me?
The first time I walked in on her with her teeth buried in Tanarus' forepaw, I could do little but stop and stare. She had become Viriti to me by then, not a blood dragon. But seeing her eat—or perhaps drink was the better word—from another sentient being sent a cold wave cascading down my spine. Tanarus just sat stoic, sad quiet eyes refocusing from her to me.
They were feared for a reason… How could I ever forget?
But when she looked at me and her ears drooped, I could feel my heart shatter with hers.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. And then she turned to trail from the room as Tanarus looked upon me with traces of anger, pity, and the most profound sadness I would ever come to know.
The great dragon lowered his huge head to me, eyes pleading. "Go after her?"
It was a request I could not deny.
I trailed through the cold temple, finding her in the room she shared with her adoptive family, now barren of any life.
"Viri." Apparently the nickname had stuck a long time ago, and resisting picking it up from her parents had been a futile task.
"What?" Her voice should have been bitter, but it wasn't. Just tired and sad. Her usual zeal for life had flooded from her. She turned to look at me with a dripping beard of blood.
"I'm sorry I froze. Should'a realized you have to get food somewhere like the rest of us. S'not your fault you need sentient blood, right?"
"Thanks, but I know better," she said tiredly. "Eating anything that can think is the worst crime to dragons. It's why you all hate us. If you're worried about what I'll do when I'm too big to just take a bit, don't be." She turned to place her paws on the cracked window sill and laid her head on them. "I'll let myself die before killing that many dragons."
That admission cracked and scorched my heart, and I cursed myself for not thinking of it sooner. She was worse off than me and my fury. Without a dozen or so dragons willingly granting her blood when she was an adult…she could only attack or starve. And new friend or not, I knew her well enough to be well aware that she couldn't hurt a disease-riddled fly.
Even to put it out of its misery.
"Hey," I said weakly, pacing forward and draping a wing around her as best I could, like Cyn would do for me. "I'll be around to help you figure it out then too, 'kay? Momma used to say that a dragon's will is stronger than any blast of fire, earth, or anything else."
A friendship was formed that day, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it was one that would last.
When she turned to look at me, her heart and its gratitude was written plainly in her ruby gaze.
-Cynder-
After alighting upon the cold island beach, I gathered myself and tried to stoke the rage that had once scorched at my belly. It didn't come easily. Usually, the island would seem beautiful. The endless ocean threw a blue ambience to the air. Though the air was heavy, it carried an ancient call that reminded me of the dead; a beautiful menagerie of sorrow and joy all at once. My eyes widening, I subconsciously tried to pick up anything familiar. I swore for a moment I heard the rustle of wings and the muttering of old man Flickershine, a dragonfly who had been kind to me as a child. Heart in my throat, I searched for my brother's voice in the fleeting whispers.
It did not come.
With Sparx gone, the world fell into shades of grey. I knew why things had seemed black and white before, why I had rightly wanted to gut the idiot who called himself the 'Chronicler', but it didn't feel like my petty hatred mattered all that much anymore.
Except, if it wasn't for him, Spyro would still be with me. Sparx… Him too. A growl rumbled at my throat. If it hadn't been for this damned goosechase, which we'd gained nothing from, I could have been with Myst and Iggie now. I'd have been worrying over Cyril and Volteer getting me stuck with a migraine rather than people and friends dying.
Fire licked within my chest once again as I angled my wings and dove into the bubble of syrupy air, ignoring that it seemed to morph into something much thicker. The flight passed quickly in a blurred cacophony of anger after that, and I was grateful for it.
Worries about what I was going to do took the place of worries about if I could do anything at all. Heavy winds beat at my face and wings in an almost therapeutic rage. I didn't give a damn about the tainted shadows tracing at my claws and wingtips.
Whatever it took, I didn't want to be alone anymore.
My paws landed on cool clammy sand with each step as I faced a towering fortress of cold stone disguised as something serene. Giant stones served as walls, and it was in a state of serene disarray, a combination that made no sense but managed to describe it. It matched the stone structures in my dreams, and I shivered in the thick air. It would be hard to fly here, like in my dreams. I grinned with much more emphasis to my teeth than needed.
"Come and meet me in hell," I snarled to the building. Squaring my shoulders, I paced forward, lying to myself about the shadow creeping at my paws. Who the hell cared anymore?
Whatever worked.
I wasn't about to lose Spyro too.
