Hello, everyone! Welcome to "Brotherhood of the Enemy," a Legend of Spyro FanFiction. I have been working on this story for roughly ten months and I have decided to finally begin posting it. Before I begin anything, I would like to throw out a huge thanks to Superdale33 for editing the first few chapters. He certainly helped give it a much stronger foundation.
Now, let's get to it! If you enjoy my story, please FAVORITE and FOLLOW to let me know.
Thank you!
Spyro woke up, his muscles aching from the night before. He breathed a deep sigh before looking down at Cynder, who was sound asleep next to him, almost as if the attack on Clawreaver had never happened. He couldn't help but smile watching her rest so peaceful, feeling as if he could almost hear the steady beating of her heart. He nuzzled her softly and kissed her on the cheek. She stirred slightly, a faint smile creeping across her lips, and hummed softly before falling right back to sleep. Seeing that she had no intention of waking up anytime soon, Spyro rose from their bed, hearing subtle cracks in his body as he did so. His body felt heavy, like his limbs were made of lead, and all he wanted to do was fall back into bed and rest his sore body for a few more hours.
Looking around the room, he was happy to be back home, safe within the heavily guarded walls of Warfang. After doing a few stretches with some faint popping noises, he made his way to their window to look out at the sunrise, one of his favorite things to do. He knew in his heart that he hadn't actually recreated the world, but he couldn't help but feel that he and Cynder were the reasons the sun still rose every morning.
The birds chirped softly as they flew through the streets of Warfang. He saw a few dragons here and there wandering through the streets, happily greeting one another as they passed. The five years following the Dark Master's attack on Warfang had been devoted to returning the city to its former glory. Due to the moles' expertise in construction, the citizens of Warfang had managed to rebuild every crumbled building, every street, and even refortify the massive walls that had been ripped apart by the heavy machines of the Dark Master's army.
Spyro didn't dwell on Malefor much, feeling at peace with the fact that he was gone, though he could never fully erase the memory of his chilling voice attempting to corrupt him. Your destiny is to destroy the world, he had told him. Looking out his window every morning, seeing what he and Cynder had accomplished together, gave him power over Malefor's lies. The malevolent purple dragon had always been wrong about their kind. A purple dragon had saved the world, completely opposite to everything that Malefor had stood for.
Which made it harder to step out into the city. It shouldn't have been hard; he had gone out more times than he could count. His guts clenched at the thought. Leaving his home meant leaving Cynder, and after last night, the prospect had him rooted to the spot. He shook it off the best he could and forced himself to walk down the stairs and to the door. Warfang was safe for now. There was no need to worry just yet. His unease still clung to him, but it lessened when he opened the door to a blinding light.
He squinted a bit as his eyes adjusted, and when they did, he was welcomed to the quaint, well-built stone that made up Warfang. He breathed in the fresh air, smelling the scent of the flowers being carried by the wind from distant fields. The commoners conversed cheerfully amongst themselves. Even as Spyro strolled along, it was refreshing to engage the sense of peace throughout the city, to say the least. The bloodbath from the night before was still fresh in Spyro's mind, but it wasn't as intense as before, merely a dim reminder.
He took note of the sun, much more visible on the horizon, after getting lost in thought for so long. He filled his lungs with air as his muscles finally relaxed.
"Spyro! Buddy!"
A dragon near identical to him - from his size down to his tail - ran down the street. If it wasn't for his red scales and yellow wings, they could have been twins. It didn't stop folks from mistaking them for brothers for years.
"Hey, Flame," Spyro replied with a relieved smile. "How're you holding up after last night?"
Flame shook his head and exhaled. "That was one hell of a skirmish, am I right?" he laughed nervously.
"No kidding. How's Ember doing?"
Flame's demeanor changed slightly, looking off into the distance. Sorrow filled his eyes.
"She's okay. Nothing serious." He paused for a moment. "I hate seeing her in battle."
Spyro raised an eyebrow, "Why?"
"I don't know, dude," Flame sighed. "I really love her, and I don't know what I'd do if she...got hurt, ya know?" Spyro nodded. Flame fiddled with his talons, keeping his eyes lowered. "Don't you ever worry about Cynder getting hurt?"
"Of course, I do," Spyro responded, placing a gentle paw on Flame's shoulder. Flame met his eyes. "But I also know how tough she is. It's very clear she can hold her own in a fight. Heck, she's saved my tail a few times…more than a few times actually." Spyro chuckled to himself. "Come to think of it, I think she's saved me far more than I've saved her."
"Yeah, but you gotta give yourself credit. You're the reason she broke her ties with Malefor. Without you, she'd still be the Terror of the Skies." Spyro smiled humbly in response, lightly punching Flame's shoulder. "Anyways, where you off to this fine morning?"
"The Guardians wanted to meet to discuss what our next move is after the Pillari's little surprise attack. I just wanted to get out for a bit beforehand."
Flame nodded, "Got it. Well, I'll see you soon, pal. I got this heart necklace for Ember. Thought I'd surprise her since she fought so hard last night."
Flame outstretched his claw to reveal the beautiful golden necklace with the pink heart pendant. Spyro smiled as he looked at the gift which twinkled in the morning sunlight.
"She's gonna love it, Flame. And no, she dominated in battle yesterday." Spyro laughed, to which Flame chuckled in response. "I saw her take out at least a dozen of them by herself." Flame looked down, clearly trying to hold back a proud smile. "Anyways, I think I'll go wake Cynder up. She'll wanna be there for the meeting at the temple."
"Cool, dude, I'll see you around," Flame said as he launched into the sky. Spyro watched Flame fly over the building and out of sight before heading back home.
Spyro paused at the door to admire the home that they had built together. Well, the moles had built it for them, but they had put in their share of input. It was a two story home with purple accents here and there, representing both Spyro and Cynder's scales. The door was quite elegant too, sturdy with a decorative carving of each of their four elements. A sign was bolted next to it.
"Spyro and Cynder," he read aloud, "who would've thought?"
He chuckled to himself. After one more glance at the elemental carvings on the door, he entered as quietly as he could and headed up the stairs to see that Cynder had already started getting out of bed. "Morning, Cynder. How did you sleep?"
"I slept well," she said with a smile, wincing, "but I kinda feel like I got thrown off a cliff."
She put weight on one of her forelegs and it nearly gave. Spyro rushed to her and wrapped his foreleg around her, easing her out of bed.
"Thank you," she said, resting her head against his. For a minute, they simply enjoyed each other's presence. It was a minute Spyro wished could last longer. He finally pulled away from her, frowning.
"I know you're tired," he said, "but the Guardians want to see us. We need to talk about the attack on Clawreaver."
Cynder hung her head and sighed.
"I know," she said, eyes never breaking away from the floor. "The Pillari have started attacking more…and the streets are getting bloodier."
"And it'll only get worse until we figure out a way to stop them," Spyro replied. His tone wavered, and he cleared his throat to hide it. Cynder picked up on it anyway.
"We stopped Malefor," she said, encouragingly, "we can stop them."
Spyro tried to smile, but bowed his head instead.
"What is it?" Cynder asked.
"This is all my fault" he said hastily, as though he had always wanted to say it. His eyes were misty and his heart was heavy. "I was able to put the world back together, but I couldn't stop another war from starting. How could I have let this happen?"
Cynder put a wing around Spyro, pressing up against him. Her warmth comforted him.
"Do you remember what I said the first time you asked that question?" she asked. Spyro didn't respond, didn't even raise his head. "I told you that you shouldn't blame yourself, and it's no different now. Someone will always be around to wreak havoc on the innocent, there's no stopping that. But that's why we are here, to stop those that terrorize our world. And Spyro, don't ever forget that you're the reason we're all still here."
After a moment of silence, Spyro took a shaky breath as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Looking up at Cynder, a faint smile came across his face as he leaned into her. Cynder held him tightly, and after a moment, they released from their embrace.
"Come on," she said, nudging her head to the side.
As they headed out into Warfang side by side, Cynder decided to start some small talk.
"Did you go out again this morning?"
"Yeah, I did," Spyro nodded. "I love it here. I'm glad we decided to officially move into Warfang after we took out Malefor."
"And saved the world," she joked. Spyro laughed in response.
"It's nice to see smiling faces again," he said, though his expression tensed once more.
"What is it?" she asked. Spyro hesitated before answering.
"I just worry, you know, losing everything we worked so hard to rebuild." Spyro stopped walking, his thoughts a mess. Cynder stepped in front of him, and he stared at her, fearing for her life, for his life, for everyone's. "Cynder, if they manage to take down this city-"
"They won't," she interrupted, trying her best to comfort him, though sounding a bit unsure herself. She had a confident grin, puffing out her chest. "They don't stand a chance against the World Builder."
"A new nickname?" Spyro groaned. "Who came up with that one?"
"Flame."
"Figures," he said as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Cynder nudged him playfully, which he gladly reciprocated.
Silence filled the rest of their walk to the temple, navigating the narrow and winding streets of Warfang. More and more civilians emerged as the sun rose higher into the sky, and occasionally a few would greet them.
Truthfully, Warfang was the perfect city to live in. Everyone got along well, primarily due to the fact that during the reign of Malefor, everyone had worked together to protect their homes and fight off the Dark Master's forces. Warfang had basically become one big happy family. This, however, made it even harder on Spyro. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if their beloved city fell. It was tough being the "World Builder," as Flame had coined him. While he always appreciated the world-saving compliments, it also overwhelmed him. The attention sometimes became too much to handle as he was basically treated like a celebrity. Cynder, however, loved the positive attention as it often reassured her that she was not defined by her destructive past.
It brought to mind one of the most beautiful moments he had ever witnessed during the first days after their grueling battle with Malefor. They had been going about their day as usual, wandering the city with no particular destination in mind, when an adorable blue hatchling with silver wings pointed to Cynder, brimming with admiration.
"Mommy! That's Cynder! Look, look! That's the dragon that helped save us!"
Cynder, with her overwhelming compassion, hurried over to the hatchling and brushed her snout against hers. The hatchling giggled and hugged her muzzle. The mother couldn't help but smile and thank Cynder for her bravery. Seeing Cynder being showered with gratitude had brought tears to Spyro's eyes. The Terror of the Skies, the Dark Master's Puppet, all of those names no longer held any merit over Cynder. She was just Cynder, the one and only.
Then he was back in the present, his eyes watering at the memory.
"Are you okay?" Cynder asked, concerned.
Spyro only smiled in response and gave her a kiss on the cheek, making her blush. She regained her composure and rested her head on his neck with a smile of her own. Spyro's heart sped up ever so slightly, the way it always did when he was with Cynder.
Not long after, they arrived in the courtyard overlooked by the temple. It was miraculous, even after coming and going so many times. Two noble dragon statues stared proudly out into the city, standing guard by the towering, double door entrance. Carved into the doors was the insignia of the Guardians: two dragons circling around a shimmering blue crystal. Spyro pushed through into the temple proper, admiring the massive pillars that reached all the way up to the ceiling, which was painted with a beautiful mural of ancient stories depicting the history of the dragons. The moles were truly remarkable in their artistic abilities. Off in the distance, Volteer and Cyril argued, which came as no surprise. As Spyro and Cynder approached, Terrador's annoyance was plainly seen, trying to get a word in edgewise. Their arguments overlapped, making anything they said an indecipherable mess of sentences. Spyro cleared his throat loudly. Volteer and Cyril stopped with mouths open, blinking, and looked over toward Spyro and Cynder. A gleaming smile broke over Volteer, while Cyril still appeared frustrated.
"Ah, our heroes have arrived!" Volteer said, waving them in. "Please, come join us. My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience our quarrel may have caused you." Cyril rolled his eyes, likely due to Volteer's relentless habit of utilizing the most superior words in his vocabulary.
"How are you two feeling?" Terrador asked as they joined the group.
"Not too bad, just a bit sore," Spyro replied. Cynder nodded her head in agreement.
"Flame and Ember?" Terrador asked.
"About the same," Spyro shrugged.
Terrador nodded, sighing through his nostrils. "As are we. I'm glad you are all okay, though I'm afraid this war is far from over."
"I'll say," Cyril piped up with a huff. "The Pillari are getting more aggressive, and if we don't stop them soon, we're going to lose Warfang."
"Nonsense, Cyril!" Volteer said. "You mustn't think like that. If we lose hope then who will our troops look to in the heat of battle?"
Terrador nodded, "Volteer is right, we can't lose hope. Though Cyril also raises a good point. We almost lost Clawreaver last night. That's the second surrounding city they've attacked in the past two weeks." He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "If they manage to capture even a single city, Warfang could be in danger of a full-scale siege."
"This is ridiculous!" Cyril stamped his paw, sending a small rumble through the tiles. "What are we waiting for?! I say we charge into Pillasia and blow it to smithereens! That'll send a message."
"No, it's too risky," Terrador said, raising his paw. Cyril simmered down, but kept up his glare. "We don't know what kind of advanced weaponry they've been hiding from us. If we try to attack their city without knowing what dangers await us, it will be a death sentence to everything we have sworn to protect. We must think through this and avoid running blindly into battle."
"How many did we lose last night at the attack on Clawreaver?" Spyro asked.
"At least a hundred of theirs and a few dozen of the troops we brought with when we joined you," Terrador said, narrowing his eyes as though he could still see the battlefield. "They are holding a burial ceremony today."
"We should be there," Cynder said, eyes pleading. Spyro put his wing around her. It didn't do much to soothe her. "Why is this even happening? Malefor is gone, the grublins are gone, the apes are gone." She clenched her teeth, scratching at the floor. "Do we know where these idiots even came from?"
"According to my research," Volteer said, "the Pillari remained in hiding during the reign of Malefor. Cowards, the lot of them. But now since he's gone, they have taken over the abandoned Grublin City, which they renamed Pillasia, as you know, and seized their opportunity in threatening all that which we hold dear."
"What's their motivation?" Spyro asked.
"It is a mystery to me," he said. From his voice, he wished more than anything to have the answer. "From the looks of it, their only goal is to see the world burn."
That snapped something in Spyro. Something he had pushed down so many times. His lungs burned with a different kind of fire, and he growled.
"I don't understand it!" Spyro screamed. "Cynder and I saved the world. Why would they try to destroy it all over again? Why can't they realize we brought peace? Five years of peace. The war was over! Why did they have to go and start a new one?!"
Everyone save Terrador jumped at his outburst. Even as Spyro gasped for air, his head still raged with anger. He had the urge to fly off and face the Pillari himself. Volteer and Cyril looked to one another concerned, and Cynder shied away. It was Terrador that stepped forward, expression hard and unreadable.
"Easy, Spyro," he said. "We're just as outraged as you are. But we can't lose our heads. We have to stay focused, that's the only way we will pull through this."
Spyro took a deep breath. Terrador was right. He had to stay cool.
"What should we do?" he asked.
"After the ceremony, we will meet in private with Archdragon Erdamir to discuss the next course of action. We are flying over there now if you would like to accompany us."
Spyro straightened at the mention of a private meeting with the Archdragon, puffing out his chest ever so slightly. Erdamir, one of the most highly-revered dragons in all of Avalar, now the Archdragon of Clawreaver.
"We wouldn't miss it," Cynder said. Spyro nodded curtly.
"Let's hit the skies then," Terrador said as he passed Spyro and Cynder toward the massive double doors. The other guardians followed closely behind. Spyro walked after them, but Cynder didn't join his side. She was rooted to the spot, wings low to the floor, wistful.
Spyro stepped back to her, "You okay, Cynder?"
"I'm just…" she heaved a heavy sigh, clenching her eyes shut, "sick of war…sick of death."
"I know," Spyro rested his forehead on hers. "I am too."
She looked into his violet eyes and smiled. His gaze was soothing, calming her headache.
"Come on," he said, wrapping his wing around her. "We should catch up with the others."
Cynder nodded her head as they walked out of the temple together. Cyril hovered in the sky, wings blowing gusts across the courtyard.
"Come on, you two," he said as delicately as he could. "We mustn't dilly dally."
With that, he beat his wings and flew after the other two Guardians. Spyro and Cynder spread their own wings, bracing their legs for take off.
"Wait up, guys!" Sparx hurled himself at the two, out of breath and barely able to keep himself in the air. Flame and Ember weren't far behind, gliding down to them. "I went to your house and you weren't there. Then I ran into these two and they said you were at the temple. Where you guys going now?"
"We were about to fly back to Clawreaver to attend the ceremony," Spyro replied. "Do you wanna join us?"
"Of course," Ember said, earnest and sincere. "After last night, it's only appropriate for us to be there."
Spyro nodded gratefully, eyes fixated on the heart necklace Flame had gotten her. He smirked at Flame, staying as subtle as possible, and Flame smiled warmly.
Spyro spread his wings, signaling for the others to take his lead. "Let's get going then." In one swift motion, they launched themselves into the sky and headed for Clawreaver, eventually catching up with the other Guardians. Cyril was the first to notice the others who had joined them, to which he nodded to Spyro in approval. As they flew, Spyro looked back to Sparx fondly.
Sparx, his true brother. Jeez, had he changed. The last thing Spyro remembered Sparx saying to him and Cynder before they crossed the Belt of Fire was, Cynder, you have to promise me you will look after him. We…we've been through a lot together.
It was one of the rare moments Sparx got emotional, and thankfully for him, Cynder had kept her promise. When they returned to Warfang after they had defeated Malefor, Sparx was the first face they saw.
When Spyro and Sparx had made eye contact after the restoration of the world, Sparx had done something completely out of the ordinary. He cried. He actually cried. He had hugged Spyro tighter than he ever had before.
"Welcome back, brother, I missed you," he said through tearful eyes.
Something shifted that day for Sparx. The days of calling Spyro fat and distrusting Cynder were long gone. He had even given Cynder a tearful hug that day.
"Thank you, Cynder," he cried. Cynder looked to Spyro with complete shock, who only grinned in return. Surprised at Sparx's sudden shift in attitude towards her, she couldn't help but smile.
"You're welcome, Sparx," she replied.
After their return to Warfang, Spyro had never felt closer to his brother. It felt like they were kids again, playing silly little games among the dragonflies. He looked back to Sparx, who gave him a playful wink.
The silhouette of Clawreaver in the distance came into view, the beauty of the majestic city overtaking them. In the heat of the raid, no one had made much notice of its elegant architecture, especially since the attack had taken place at night. But the broad daylight shining down highlighted every glorious feature Clawreaver had to offer. Massive walls surrounded the luxurious architecture, broken up with cobblestone roads. In the center of the city, a colossal fountain stood with constantly flowing beams of water and, at its center, a mystical bronze dragon.
Despite all of its glory, it was evident that the town had been attacked last night. The Clawreaver engineers, moles as prestigious as those found in Warfang, were already repairing the gaping hole in the defensive perimeter, where the Pillari had broken through. Several buildings throughout the city were blackened and destroyed from the fire bombs the Pillari had lobbed. Spyro also spotted several dragons scrubbing the streets to try to remove as much of the blood as possible.
Just outside of Clawreaver, most of the civilians had gathered around rows upon rows of gently laid corpses. Spyro wrinkled his nose as the putrid smell of lifeless bodies filled the air with a nauseating aroma. Terrador motioned for the others to land near the assembly. A few eyes drifted in their direction as they touched down, though the majority didn't bother. They were as still as the bodies. It tugged at Spyro, so much so he barely caught a dragon stride over to them. He was like a giant pine tree: sturdy, fierce, green as a thicket, but his wings and underbelly lightened his gruff exterior. Yellow as the sun shining through the branches.
His eyes peered down his snout, picking out the group. They lingered on Spyro and Cynder for a time before flicking back to Terrador.
"Morning, everyone," he said, his voice as rough as his scales. "Thank you for being here."
Terrador walked up to him and bowed his head deeply in respect, "Hello, Archdragon Erdamir, it's good to see you again."
"Please," he motioned with his paw, mustering a faint smile, "just Erdamir will do." Erdamir laid his paw on Terrador's shoulder. "It's good to see you too, my brother."
Terrador nodded once then swept over the grim atmosphere and the massive crater in the wall. "How is everyone holding up?" he asked, softer than before.
"It was an unexpected attack," Erdamir sighed, and all of his bravado deflated, "but we managed to hold them off, thanks to all of you." Ember perked her chin up proudly, Cynder nodded, almost too faintly to notice.
Volteer took to Terrador's side, "As soon as we got the message from the falcon, we hurried over as quickly as we could. If only we had been here sooner."
His voice was full of defeat, hanging his head. Erdamir rested a paw on his shoulder, raising his own chin a tad. Spyro wasn't sure if it was to swallow down his sorrow or stay strong for them.
"it is no one's fault except my own," he said. "I assumed they would take more time to replenish their strength after their failed attack on Scalemar two weeks ago. Luckily, it was only a small battalion, and we have learned from our mistakes. We have doubled our defensive troops in response to last night's attack."
Cyril looked out at the many rows of the deceased. Several were adorned in armor plating and gauntlets, while the rest were barren. Both civilians and soldiers of Clawreaver and Warfang had perished last night.
"What did you do with the bodies of our enemies?" he asked with a small hint of bitterness.
"We believe everyone deserves a proper burial," Erdamir said, "so we had our Earth dragons create a mass grave for them off in the distance, though we did not hold a ceremony for them.
Cyril bristled, a growl slipping out before he clamped his mouth shut to stop it.
"I respect that," he said, stilted and full of contempt, "though I don't agree with it. Those murderers don't deserve a proper burial."
Erdamir nodded his head, "Perhaps not, but it is the image of respect that we strive to uphold."
Cyril twitched but didn't argue further. His eyes were heavy, wary, and he pulled them to the front of the crowd. Spyro followed his gaze, more to occupy himself than anything. There, a white dragon stood with golden wings, shimmering in the sunlight like a beacon over the dreary. The Clawreaver Elder, as Spyro recognized him, spoke with clarity and grace, yet each word held weight. It was background noise to Spyro. He should have listened, picked, and taken in everything to heart, but the bodies drew a blank in his mind. A suppressed sob tore him away to Cynder. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she did nothing to hide them. He draped a wing around her to try and comfort her, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.
"Why is this happening again?" she whispered through her tears.
Spyro sighed, "I don't know, but we are going to stop it…somehow."
The Elder dragon went on, and Spyro only cared more for the dragoness pressed up against him.
The eulogy came to a close. The Elder dragon merged with the gathering as several fire dragons took their places at the head of each row of victims The Elder dragon declared a minute of silence, though it was unneeded. No one uttered a word, and sobs and cries were all that was heard. Erdamir signaled to the dragons to light the fires. Flames brimmed in the dragons' muzzles before breathing it in unison onto each group of deceased, just enough to start a slow burn. The image of everyone's loved ones gradually burning to ash was too much for many of the bystanders as the magnitude of sobs intensified, filling the air with a somber song. Flame and Ember cried together, resting their heads against one another. Sparx didn't cry as he hadn't been at the battlefield the previous night, though he bowed his head in respect. The Guardians and Erdamir stared out at the burning bodies, their eyes never wavering even for a second.
The grief was almost too much for Spyro. His breathing was shaky, and it was difficult to swallow. He clenched his paws tightly, digging his claws into the mournful soil. His lips curled into a subdued sneer as he dwelled on Malefor's death. Such things as the anguish from last night's attack should have faded away following the fall of Malefor, but death and torment had returned to Avalar.
I have to stop this, he thought. Once and for all.
Thank YOU for checking out my story! I would love to read your thoughts and reactions down in the comments. Any and all criticism is appreciated as I want this story to be as good as possible. So, if you don't like the story, make it constructive. Give me pointers on how it can be improved.
Thanks, all!
Bless,
Joshua