The Correctionists

"There are places and beings that exist beyond time. These things and realms are not governed by the natural laws that constrain mortals such as I. These beings are also not limited to their respective realms. While being incredibly elusive, these creatures have been reported entering the Dragon Realms before. While some, like Xoluth the Silenced, appear very often by the standards of these creatures, which my master and I have dubbed "exochronons," some are only theorized to exist. Among these are creatures known as the Vindaveum. Their existence is only known because it has been gifted to my master by the Gods. It is said that they will only appear right before a cataclysmic disaster. I can only pray that never happens." – Excerpt from "Beyond the Bonds of Time, an Analysis of Exochronons" by Tethos, Apprentice to the First Chronicler

A figure clad in crimson armor stood on an elevated platform with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood at six feet, six inches with blue eyes and a clean-shaven head and his helmet tucked under his arm. Around him, computers and monitors blipped and whirred as fingers flew over their keyboards.

"I need a status report on the Itera Strand Bedivere," it said. A slightly shorter figure in white armor tapped an electronic tablet.

"Everything is in order sir," the white-armored figure said. "It appears that Lamorak and Ector succeeded in sealing the wormhole." The crimson figure nodded.

"Good." A small blipping got his attention and he glanced at one of the monitors. "Is something wrong there?" He pointed to the screen, drawing Bedivere's eyes with his gauntleted finger.

"Brastius!" he called, "what's happening with terminal three?" Another armored figure stepped over to the terminal.

"We may have a problem Sir Lancelot," he said. The crimson figure crossed his arms.

"Elaborate." Brastius punched in a few more commands.

"It's the Aphaedus Strand, Sir." Lancelot pursed his lips. Bedivere chuckled.

"We can't seem to catch a break from that one, can we?" Lancelot nodded. He stepped off the platform and crossed the control center. He looked over Brastius' shoulder and sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

"What is the problem?" Brastius clicked the keys a few more times.

"Can't say sir. That interference is still there." Bedivere sighed and shook his head.

"It has been occurring for weeks now and we haven't the slightest clue as to what is causing it." Lancelot glanced at the man.

"Have we dispatched anyone to investigate?" Bedivere shook his head once more.

"The interference may be caused by a cataclysm." He looked away from Lancelot's piercing blue eyes. "And we don't want to risk anyone's life needlessly." Lancelot stood back to his full height and placed a hand on Bedivere's shoulder.

"I understand your concern, but we must send someone, otherwise many more could possibly die." Bedivere sighed and nodded. Lancelot was right, as he normally was. That was why he was in charge.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Lancelot nodded, as if he was waiting for that question.

"I propose we send Gawain and Percival." Bedivere began to agree but stopped when he realized what Lancelot had said.

"You mean the peculiar one?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Both of them are peculiar." Bedivere rolled his eyes underneath his helmet.

"I mean Percival. He's peculiar in a… well, peculiar way." Lancelot nodded.

"Their skills make them the ideal duo for this task."

"Shall I send someone to fetch them?" Lancelot shook his head.

"I will locate them myself. You remain here and keep me updated on the Aphaedus Strand." Bedivere nodded and saluted as Lancelot turned and moved for the door.

The salute was simple: cross the left forearm behind the right forming a cross.

Lancelot donned his helmet as the door to the control center slid open. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw Bedivere and Brastius standing over the terminal.

In the back of one bedroom, a lone figure sat at a desk lit by a small lamp. In front of him was the most important, and only known piece of his past: a picture depicting him and a female he had never remembered seeing before, though he could guess their relationship. She appeared about his age, which meant she would be about eighteen by now. The picture had captured her mid-laugh. Her arm was over the shoulders of who the figure knew as himself.

The only semblance of emotion he showed in the picture was the barely noticeable grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A lone tear dripped onto the picture. He quickly wiped his eyes. He didn't know why, but he always cried when he looked at it. He hated that. It meant he was weak, and there was no room for weakness in the field. He quickly slid on his helmet as he heard his door hiss open.

"Percival?" The figure whirled around to find Lancelot standing in the doorway.

"Sir Lancelot!" He quickly snapped a salute.

"At ease Percival." Lancelot scanned the room. "Where is your master?"

"Master Gawain is in the armory."

Lancelot turned to the door. "Walk with me Percival."

Percival didn't object. He matched Lancelot's pace as he stepped out into the hall.

"How has your training been progressing Percival?"

"That is not for me to decide, sir."

Lancelot raised a brow at that. "Any other important happenings?"

Percival shook his head. "None that I would deem worthy of making note of, no."

Lancelot noticed the photograph clutched in Percival's hand. "What is that?" He noticed Percival's hand tighten around it.

"It is my Tribute sir."

"It is not commonplace for one to carry their Tribute with them."

"I am well aware of that sir." He held up the picture at an angle so Lancelot could not see it. "But it is the only thing that reminds me I'm still a living thing, and it is safer with me than left unattended."

That got Lancelot's attention. "Care to elaborate?"

"It reminds me that I too had a past, that I lived once before." This only made the crimson-armored man's confusion grow more.

"But you are living and breathing right now, or did a cadaver just answer me?" Percival shook his head.

"But what is the point of living if you do not change the lives of those around you?" Lancelot thought for a moment.

"What do you mean by that?"

"When you die, you are returned to your maker, but your actions remain. But that begs the question: if you affected no one, if there were no actions, did you truly live, or were you nothing more than a shell of what you could be?"

Lancelot's stride almost faltered. Gawain was right; Percival did not speak much, but when he did, it was best to listen.

The two eventually arrived outside a thick iron door. Lancelot punched in a code and it slid open.

"Gawain?" he called. He stepped into the room and looked around. It was lined with racks holding every weapon imaginable: assault rifles, battle axes, and knives gleamed beneath the halogen lights that cast a cold white glow over the room.

"I'm here Lancelot." The speaker stepped out from behind one of the racks. He was only an inch taller than Lancelot and wore silver armor. His gauntlets and lower leg greaves were exposed, but his upper arms and upper leg greaves were covered by a dark green cloak. The cloak was also pulled up over his helmet as well.

Lancelot chuckled. "Percival said I could find you here." Gawain chuckled and nodded. In his hand he held a spear, but as opposed to the normal triangular blade, there was a twelve-inch knife blade affixed to the end. He fastened the weapon to his back and crossed his arms.

"What is it you need?" Lancelot removed his helmet and pursed his lips.

"It's the Aphaedus Strand."

"What happened?"

"We believe it is experiencing a cataclysm." Percival stepped forward from behind Lancelot.

"Do you have any details?" Lancelot shook his head and sighed.

"That interference is still there, and it is too dense for our sensors to get us an accurate reading."

"So you need us to investigate." Gawain did not say that as a question. Lancelot nodded.

"Meet me at the Gateway in three hours." With that, he turned and walked out the door.

Gawain and Percival stood outside another set of thick steel doors. The two looked very similar in their armor, Percival's resembling Gawain's save for his robing, which was midnight blue.

As Percival moved to open the hydraulic door, Gawain placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Percival," he said, an air of seriousness in his voice, "this Strand is incredibly dangerous. I… I won't force you into accompanying me."

Gawain's student placed a hand on his master's and moved it off his shoulder. "I appreciate your concern Master, but I am capable of handling myself."

Gawain chuckled. "I expected that response." He shrugged. "It doesn't hurt to check." Percival nodded and opened the door.

The room they entered was huge, roughly the size of an airplane hangar. At the opposite end sat a giant metal arch that was bolted to the floor. To the left was another room raised above the steel floor of the larger room. Through the windows, blinking terminals could be seen being operated by intelligence officers, Brastius and Bedivere among them.

They gave Gawain and Percival a thumbs up, Gawain nodding in return. Standing in the center of the room was Lancelot.

Gawain and Percival saluted as they approached. Lancelot returned the gesture.

"I wish you both luck on this mission." He sighed. "We cannot establish a specific entry point due to the interference, so you will have to make due with where you end up, and we will not be able to track you once you pass through."

Gawain nodded. "We are ready regardless."

Lancelot chuckled and nodded. "I had a feeling you would say that." He nodded towards Bedivere, who nodded and punched in a command on a terminal. A massive thrum shook the room as a swirling vortex of blue energy appeared inside the metal frame.

"Are you ready Percival?" Gawain asked. His apprentice nodded.

"Do you wish to go first, Master?" Gawain chuckled and shook his head.

"We go together."

Without another word, they sprinted through the portal and into the unknown.

Percival and Gawain were met with roaring wind when they opened their eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" Percival heard Gawain groan over the comms. He looked around and understood why his master was angry: the ground they were supposed to be on was several thousand meters below them.

"Percival," Gawain said, "this is the chance to use your first Gift." Percival nodded.

"Understood Master." He raised his hands out in front of him and focused about sixty meters below himself. He put his hands in front of his armored chest and held them as if he were praying, but he held them horizontally, his left hand over his right, fingers full extended. He then twisted his hands 180 degrees, so the right hand was on top. The air around him seemed to warp as he moved sixty meters closer to the planet below in the blink of an eye.

Gawain watched as his apprentice raced towards the planet's surface, pleased at how his Gift was improving. Gawain grinned underneath his helmet. It was time for him to use his gift. He tucked his arms in and shot after Percival.

He knew his student would reach the ground before him, and he was fine with that. When he could make out individual trees on the planet's surface, he readied his first Gift. As he reached the ground, he threw his arm forward and delivered an open-handed palm strike to the ground.

He froze, standing on his one hand for a moment before pushing of the ground and landing on his feet. He looked around for Percival. "Percival?" he called.

"I'm here, Master Gawain." His student dropped down from one of the trees.

"Well done Percival, you're Zeno is improving."

"Thank you Master." He looked around. "I do not see any signs of a cataclysm." Gawain nodded.

"We need to get a good view before making any concrete statements." He pointed to the massive mountain that loomed before them. "We head to the peak of that mountain."

"Do you think we will encounter any locals Master?" Gawain cocked his head to the side.

"Why do you ask?" Percival pointed to the mountain. Gawain followed with his eyes and they widened. How did he miss the fortress that was built into the side of it? Gawain was now able to take in the rest of the environment as well. It was nighttime, he was in what looked to be a forest, most likely a temperate climate.

"Master look." Percival had his helmet to the sky. Gawain followed suit and gasped. There were two moons casting a gentle white light over the trees.

"They're beautiful," he gasped. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "We should get moving." Percival nodded.

"Shall I use my Zeno again?" Gawain shook his head.

"Let's walk."

"I believe that whoever that fortress was built for could fly," Percival said as they began to make their way up the mountain.

"What makes you say that?" Percival pointed to the trail they were walking on.

"This trail appears to be barely used, and I see no other way to reach the edifice." Gawain nodded.

"Be at the ready," he warned, "it could still be inhabited."

"Understood Master." Percival looked up at the moons again. "They really are beautiful, aren't they?"

Gawain nodded, but he was secretly surprised. It wasn't like Percival to make comments like that. "You're right."

The rest of the journey was made in silence. Suddenly, ahead of Gawain, Percival stopped.

"We've reached the end of the trail," he said, "but the fortress is still up there." Gawain moved next to him and saw what he meant. The trail ended and an abrupt trip back down the mountain began.

"Shall I use my Zeno now?" Percival asked. Gawain nodded and his student disappeared after performing the same gesture he had done several kilometers in the sky. He looked up at the fortress, estimating how far up it was. He racked his brain for an answer. He remembered the weapon strapped across his back and grinned as he got an idea. He removed the spear and twirled it in his hand. He pressed a small button and aimed it at the face of the mountain in the middle of the gap. It fired the blade across the gap, trailing a metal chain behind it. It embedded itself into the rock with a crack. He gripped the handle of his spear tightly and swung across, landing safely on his feet. He pulled and ripped the blade out of its hold in the rock, retracting it back into the spear. Without another word, he turned and continued up the trail.

When he reached the trail's end, he was standing in front of the massive walls of the fortress. He saw Percival approaching the large cast iron doors of the building and moved after him.

Percival turned to him as he approached. "It appears to be locked."

Gawain smirked under his helmet. He planted his feet and threw a violent punch at the door. They fell inward and slammed into the cobbled stone floor of the courtyard with a THUD! Gawain turned back to his student.

"Not anymore." He strode through the permanently opened entrance, Percival following closely behind. The trees in the courtyard were all wilted and leafless, leaving the fortress' desolate nature out of place in this lush forest and under the starry sky.

"No one appears to be home," he observed.

"Stop." Gawain froze in the center of the courtyard and held up an armored fist. "Do you hear that?" Percival stood still and began to concentrate.

Soon enough he heard what his master wanted him to hear: a howling wind. He checked the ground and saw the dead, dried leaves weren't moving.

"It's coming from inside," Gawain said. He moved towards the second set of doors, which were identical to the first. As he approached, the doors swung open with a barely audible creak.

Gawain took a step forward and almost fell into a bottomless abyss.

"Our armor can absorb the shock," Percival said matter-of-factly. Gawain nodded.

"I will go around and check the parapets and central atrium. You check that hole. Contact me if you find anything… or anyone."

Percival nodded as his master leapt over the thirty-foot gap and proceeded off into the intricate inner workings of the fortress. He cracked his neck as he looked down into the yawning chasm. He took a deep breath and leapt down into the shadows.

Percival leapt off the rugged side of the pit. He hadn't spotted anything on his way down, but he still remained on edge.

He did not tell his master, but something had put him on edge ever since they reached the ground.

A sensor in his helmet picked up the dramatic drop in light and activated his face lamps. He saw rough rock walls all around him but appeared to be in a larger cavern. A dark passageway led deeper underground off to his left.

Seeing as that was the only way down, he entered the passageway, his headlamps piercing the otherwise dark subterranean environment.

As Percival entered this passageway, far below him, a black dragoness slowly opened her eyes.

"What the?" She looked around, only seeing infinite black in all directions. She took a step forward and tripped over something. She grunted and turned around.

She couldn't see what it was. She reluctantly placed her paws over it and felt it rise and fall. It was breathing. She ran her paws up to the top of it and felt horns.

"SPYRO!" She recognized him. "Are you alright?"

No response. He was breathing, but just barely.

She didn't know what to do. They had come so far. She wouldn't let him die now. She couldn't. She began to panic. There were no crystals in sight, and she didn't know how much longer he could hold for.

With no other option, she tilted her head up and screamed. "SOMEONE HELP!"

Her words echoed around her and faded away, leaving her in total silence once more. She laid her head on Spyro's chest and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

After a few moments, the sound of stomping footsteps got her attention. She looked up in the direction of the footfalls.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Her stomach bottomed out when the approaching creature screeched. Her eyes went wide and she dropped into a fighting stance, although she felt like she had bags of wet sand tied around her. She steeled herself and prepared for a fight. She couldn't see even see her attacker, but she would protect Spyro until her last breath.

Percival had been walking for what felt like hours. The rock walls around him didn't seem to change either, adding to his boredom. He knew, however, that this is what the job required him to do, and that he would do whatever it took to get it done, even if it meant giving his life.

There was no conflict within him because of that. His master, Sir Lancelot, any of his comrades would do just the same.

"SOMEONE HELP!" Percival was pulled away from his thoughts as the call bounced off the cavern walls. He knew Master Gawain didn't sound like that, much less that he would call for help.

He tore off down the passageway, letting the slight incline boost his speed.

An ear-piercing shriek ripped through the moist underground passage. Percival was getting close. He exited the caver and activated his sonar. It pulsed once and highlighted everything around him.

"GET AWAY FROM US!" He turned and saw the speaker. The outline of a quadruped was crouched in front of a massive figure that stood a good meter-and-a-half taller than him. Something was behind it, the quadruped also had… wings?

Percival didn't dwell on it as he rushed forward. With a flick of his wrists, his weapons appeared in his hands: two twelve-inch knives that gleamed almost white even though there was no light aside from his headlamps.

He raised his right arm and fired a wrist mounted cannon. However, instead of a projectile meant to kill it released an orb of blue light that hovered in the air about thirty feet above him. He saw clearly who else was in the cavern with him.

One was a… dragon? She had black scales and a red underbelly, she had maybe nine horns. Percival couldn't be sure. She was about his size and had her teeth bare at the massive figure in front of her. It was about ten feet tall and covered in fur. What got Percival's attention, however, was the pieces of flesh and muscle that were falling off and exposed. The thing was undead.

Percival remembered what his master had taught him about the undead: always target the head. In the case of it being a virus, it would often take up root in the brain. He saw the dragon's eyes widen as he got within striking distance. He leapt upward and landed on the creature's shoulder. He drove both of his blades through its temples, feeling them pierce the skull and the brain.

The creature howled in what was either pain, anger, or a mixture of both.

The gears in Percival's head were already turning. He leapt off its shoulders, landing in front of the dragon. He twirled his knives and pointed one at the creature.

"Now that I have your attention," he began, "allow me to explain something. You are about two meters taller than me and most likely weigh twice as much as I do. Your size gives you an advantage in terms of strength, but as I already demonstrated, makes me much faster than you."

The creature just stared with blank, pearly white eyes. It had its menacing teeth bared and its ragged breathing hissed out from behind them.

Percival dropped into a fighting stance. "You will not survive this duel, creature."

The cadaver roared and lashed out with a massive, meaty arm. Percival ducked under the attack he had seen coming and drove his knife into the wrist of the attacking arm as it passed. He felt ligaments and tendons snap as the blade cut through them with ease.

The creature staggered backward and clutched its wrist, the hand attached to it hanging limply.

"I have severed your volar radiocarpal, volar ulnocarpal, and dorsal ligaments along with your palmar flexor tendons," Percival said flatly. "You no longer have control of that hand."

The creature howled with rage and charged again, bringing his fist down to pulverize the smaller warrior.

This was going exactly as Percival had planned. He concentrated on the space above the creature. He had never used Zeno without the using the hand sign, but he had no choice. He saw the air around him warp and found himself above his enemy. He dropped onto its shoulders once more, only this time, he drove both knives into the base of its neck and slashed outward.

The creature gave a final howl of pain and collapsed.

Percival hopped off the creature and noticed the fearful look on the dragon as it stared at the fallen beast.

"It will not get up," Percival said. "I have severed its spinal cord and brain stem. If it is still alive it still cannot hurt you." He sheathed his knives and approached the dragon.

"Th-Thank you." Her voice suggested she was female, but Percival had seen enough to know not to make assumptions.

He raised his left gauntlet up to his helmet. "Master Gawain, come in."

"I read you Percival," his master said over the comm. "Go ahead."

"I have found someone down here." He glanced at the dragon. "There was a hostile, which I have dispatched." Silence followed for several moments.

"Is anyone hurt?" Percival looked over the dragon again.

"No one appears to be injured."

"Wait," the dragon spoke up. It stepped to the side, revealing another dragon.

"Correction, master. We have one injured. I may require your assistance."

"Understood, I will be down there shortly." The communicator clicked off.

"What this one's condition?" Percival asked, moving over and kneeling next to the prone dragon. His scales were a striking purple and his gold underbelly gleamed in the blue light cast over the cavern.

"He's barely breathing." Percival nodded. His master had made it a point to teach him field medicine for this exact scenario. He reached into his belt and pulled out an IV bag and a needle with an automatic pump.

"What is that?" the other dragon asked, appearing worried about what Percival was going to do.

"This is an intravenous needle," Percival explained plainly. "Your friend is low on energy and is about to die from exhaustion." He saw the dragon's expression become one of sheer dread but paid no mind to it.

He held up the full IV bag. "This bag contains plasma. This will give him some of that energy back. I have to inject it directly into his bloodstream."

The dragon watched with unease as Percival inserted the needle between the dragon's scales and taped it down. He pressed a button and the automatic pump began to hum as it pumped the plasma through the needle. He stood and fastened the bag to his waist.

"Your friend should be fine for now." He sat down and began to feel around its chest area. "We will wait here until my master arrives."

"Your master?" Percival nodded.

"He is much more versed in field medicine than I am. He will probably help him more than I can." The dragon sat down next to him and sighed.

"What's your name?" it asked after a few minutes of silence.

"My name is Percival."

"Where are you from?" Percival glanced at the dragon before looking forward again.

"That is classified." The dragon cocked a brow.

"Well, my name is Cynder," she said. Percival nodded.

"Percival?" The two turned their heads to the voice as Gawain stepped out of the passageway.

"Here, Master." Gawain jogged over and inspected the purple dragon.

"He's definitely suffering from severe exhaustion," he said. "He just needs to rest."

"Should we try and reach the surface Master?" Percival asked.

"We should, but that chasm will prove challenging with an unconscious dragon."

"I can help," Cynder spoke up. "I can carry Spyro."

Gawain and Percival looked at each other. "Might as well," Gawain said. "Percival, give me your knives… and detach the chains." Percival obeyed without any question. Gawain hooked the chains around Spyro's waist and chest and then around Cynder's.

"That should keep him secure," he said. "Let us know if he becomes too heavy." Cynder nodded and shifted Spyro into a comfortable position on her back.

"Master," Percival spoke up. "I should carry the purple one. I have his intravenous drip hooked to my belt." Gawain nodded.

"Very well." He unhooked Spyro and moved him to his apprentice's back.

"We're a lot heavier than you," Cynder said, concerned. "Are you sure you can carry him?"

Percival nodded. Gawain stepped away and gave him a thumbs up. Percival nodded again and drew himself up to full height, much to Cynder's surprise.

"Percival, can you use Zeno on other objects yet?" Gawain asked. Percival shook his head.

"I have not attempted it yet Master," he admitted. "I will try to."

"Get on that please," Gawain said. He turned back to Cynder. "Can you walk?"

She nodded. "Just a little tired, but I can make it."

"Let us know if you grow tired." Percival glanced at the fallen creature.

"I find it odd that this thing is alone."

The moment he said that, a chorus of shrieks echoed through the cavern.

"You had to go and say that," Gawain groaned. He ushered them towards the passageway leading back to the surface. "We need to move." The three broke for the rough stone hallway as the sound of pounding footsteps reached their ears.

"Hurry!" Gawain said. Percival took notice of Cynder falling behind.

She's almost as exhausted as the purple one, he realized. He pivoted his feet and caught the dragoness mid-stride.

"HUH?!" she yelped as her paws left the ground. Percival hoisted her over his shoulder and bolted after his master.

"Hurry," Gawain ordered anxiously. As Percival dashed into the hall past him, he set Cynder down and turned back to the green-robed warrior.

"They are still coming Master."

"I'm aware," Gawain said. He cracked his neck and popped his knuckles. Percival could see more undead creatures approaching.

Gawain suddenly threw his hands up at the ceiling. A rippling pattern in the air shot from his palm and struck its mark. Cracks spread across the rock and it began to crumble, raining dust on him. He fired another blast from his hands, which impacted the same spot as the first.

That blast was all it took. The roof exploded and dropped a pile of boulders in front of the door, plunging the group back into darkness.

"Is everyone alright?" Gawain asked. He could hear Cynder violently hacking. "Percival, give her some water."

"Yes Master." He heard his student scuffling around searching for his canteen.

"We can rest for a little bit," Gawain said. He removed the purple dragon from Percival's back and they gently set him on the ground.

As the two were talking several feet away, Cynder sat next to her unconscious friend. She placed a gentle paw on his cheek.

"Please Spyro," she whispered, "I know you can make it."

She believed she had been quiet enough, but Percival had picked up what she had said. But rather than understand… Percival was left perplexed.