Chapter 30

Confinement

Ignitus stood meditatively before the massive hourglass before him, his brow twitching as he attempted to concentrate. He always thought of the hourglass as a conduit to an even more powerful Pool of Visions – the pendant around his neck – but he had yet to truly get it to work. The most he got was that Spyro's future was definitely not secure and happy, and the vague and unknown visions, along with the young dragon's book of life, provided him with few answers.

He scanned the first library behind him, making sure all the books were firmly secure. He still found the books of life rather enigmatic; he knew that only he had the power to open them, but they seemed to eject and scatter themselves around the chamber without his knowledge. Plus, he couldn't help but wonder if a powerful enough dragon, such as Malefor or even Spyro, would be able to access their contents without his input.

I do wish he'd left me a manual for these things…

The Chamber of Time still had many secrets, even after over a year of exploring and studying. Of course, Ignitus only knew this due to the Chronicler's personal tome, which he checked frequently. Visions of major events throughout the world automatically filled in, and it marked its own pages with time stamps. Otherwise, if he wanted to know the exact time and date, the Hourglass would show him a vision if he probed it specifically for that. The static and timeless energy of the area made it so time no longer had any meaning without documented instances.

He also found that the structure of the area changed. The rooms branched out from the central hourglass chamber; six passages branching out in a hexagonal pattern. These linear, wide passages each ended in another circular chamber lined with more shelves. The first tier branched into a further five passages each, but thankfully these rooms were dead ends. Another quirk was that the rooms did not always have the same books stacked in their shelves. Ignitus found that if there was a particular tome he was seeking, he would always find it in the same chamber, even if that tome was nowhere to be seen when he was seeking a different tome. It was as useful as it could be troublesome, as it wouldn't do for him to wander for hours to look for a single book.

However, it was frustrating when he needed to consult multiple tomes at once. Once or twice he somehow managed to conjure mutually exclusive tomes when he needed to, but the process was still somewhat trial and error even now.

Again, a manual would have been useful.

He sighed and lowered his head, before glancing over at the sleeping purple drake. Once Spyro had regained some of his composure, he attempted to physically distance himself from his former mentor. Ignitus understood why: the Aethereal was the reason he couldn't bring anyone with him, apart from Talon. Instead of resisting this, Ignitus quickly summoned what cushions he could and laid them out against a bare wall, and Spyro quickly stumbled onto them and fell asleep. His cloak still attached somehow, Ignitus quietly stretched it over the young dragon as he slept peacefully for the first time in a week.

Spyro's eyes eventually opened and he yawned deeply. Talon, who was standing on a pile of books next to him, looked on curiously as he stared at Ignitus.

'Ignitus… so it wasn't a dream…'

The purple drake still sounded uncertain. Ignitus cleared his throat and turned towards him, but kept his distance.

'Well, if it helps, it has been exactly nine hours, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-eight seconds since you fell asleep, Spyro.'

Spyro blinked and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. 'How is that supposed to help, exactly?'

'You still believe all of this may be coming from your own mind. Would you really think up something as obscure as that?'

Spyro managed to smile weakly before shaking his head. 'No, I guess not. I never would have guessed you became the new Chronicler. I thought…' His gaze fell, 'that I'd lost you…'

Ignitus glanced away uncomfortably. 'In a sense, you did… I really did die, Spyro. But my spirit and magic were very much intact. Enough to give me physical form once more.' Ignitus glanced towards the entrance sadly. 'However, there are some unpleasant limitations…'

'Like what?'

Ignitus smiled pleasantly. Despite his own circumstances, indulging the young dragon's curiosity was a welcome change of pace, as well as having another chance to do so despite his death.

'You might have figured this out already, but I cannot leave this place for too long. My magic weakens the further I go. Just going into the chamber in which I found you saps half my power. Any further than that, I shudder to think… and the Chronicler's role is too important to leave this place.'

Spyro watched him worriedly. 'If you're only here because of your spirit… does that mean you could just disappear if you went too far?'

Ignitus nodded slowly. 'It's a risk I want to avoid, which I'm sure you can understand.'

Spyro nodded somberly, but from the look in his eyes, Ignitus could tell he had many more questions on his mind. He watched with amusement as Spyro was visibly trying to choose one at a time.

'Are you safe from me, Ignitus?'

There was a moment of silence as the Chronicler frowned regretfully.

'I believe you're referring to the Aethereal?' As Spyro nodded, Ignitus slowly shook his head. 'I cannot say for sure, but I sincerely doubt I am in danger. It failed to react when I brought you here, and there's been no sign of it affecting your mind as you slept. On top of that, there have been records of dragons finding this place by accident, and only one or two of them had ill intent. They wanted to attack the Chronicler – or at the very least, steal some knowledge for themselves. But they couldn't. Their powers failed them at when they tried, and they were quickly banished by the Chronicler. I cannot be sure, but I theorise that the very air itself suppresses destructive intent even if the intent remains.'

As Spyro mused to himself, Ignitus continued. 'Besides, harming this place would have disastrous consequences for the world and magic at large. From what I know about it, destroying or destabilising the world – or rather its magic – is not on its agenda.'

'Then what is?'

Ignitus gave him a long, sad look, before heaving a heavy sigh. Ever since he became aware of its presence, he had been trying to find an answer to that very question.

'I… do not know, Spyro.' He hung his head. 'I know that's what you came here for. I'm sorry to disappoint you, young dragon.'

Spyro shook his head with a smile. 'It's alright. I didn't even know you were… well, alive. Kind of.' His expression fell for a moment. 'If only I could let the others know…'

'I have tried, you know.' Ignitus glanced down at his own chest, flicking the gemmed pendant. 'See this? It… theoretically allows me to communicate with anyone I want, at any time. However, there is a caveat.'

Spyro nodded. 'Of course – we all would know you were alive if you were able to talk to us.'

'Yes…' Ignitus continued, 'the caveat being the subject needs to be aware, or at least open to it. When I died, everyone – including you – had pain associated with my memory, and therefore avoided thinking about me too much. Let alone the possibility of me being alive and the new Chronicler.'

The purple drake stared at him. 'Wait… so that means, from now on, I could talk with you at any time?'

Ignitus smiled. 'That is my hope, yes.' He pursed his jaw cautiously. 'However, I would not take advantage of this. Records indicate the magic here destabilises gradually if the Chronicler uses this pendant too much.'

'How much is too much?'

'Going by the previous Chronicler, and the magic remaining stable here despite his contact with you, I would avoid using it unless you need advice or are in dire need. As in, do not contact me for a quick chat or small talk.'

'Right.'

Spyro's thought returned to Cynder, Sparx, Terrador… anyone that would appreciate knowing Ignitus was alive.

'So you can't tell any of the Guardians you're alive? Terrador, especially.'

Ignitus shook his head. 'I did try, but he didn't interpret my message the way I wanted.'

Spyro looked around. 'There must be some way…' He glanced at Talon briefly. 'Would you be willing to send a message, Talon?'

The bird ruffled his feathers with slight annoyance, and Spyro frowned apologetically.

'Sorry, I know you've been through a lot with me, but if there's no other way to send a message…'

Talon lowered his head with a reluctant chirp. Spyro smiled appreciatively.

'Ignitus, is there any information I could send back to Warfang? Surely there would…'

The Chronicler frowned warningly. 'Be careful, young dragon. Some knowledge would better to be left here, lest it falls into the wrong paws.'

'Like Malefor?'

Ignitus paused for a moment before nodding heavily. Spyro frowned to himself, knowing Malefor may still be a threat, especially if the Chronicler believed it so.

'I've also noticed that there aren't as many spirit gems around as there used to be. One on the way would have been helpful, since I fell into the ocean...'

Ignitus studied the young drake's wings sympathetically. 'I couldn't be sure, since it is gradual enough... I suspect that, ironically, Malefor being sealed away would have something to do with it. A purple dragon is a massive source of magic, and to suddenly seal it away would have consequences.' His eyes twinkled. 'Hopefully as you grow stronger, you can fill in that gap he left behind.'

Spyro grimaced awkwardly as he tried to think of something else, frowning as he did so. 'What about information that could help them improve Warfang? Recover from the war?'

Ignitus slowly relaxed his gaze and nodded with approval. 'If you bring it to me before sending anything, it should be fine. I'm sure the Guardians would be grateful for any information of the sort.' He turned around. 'In fact, there's a chamber that has some maps–'

He stopped when Spyro stood up, a sudden darkness in his eyes. 'Ignitus.' The purple dragon's tone shifted to disappointment, and despite his joy at being reunited, trepidation still surfaced. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

Ignitus slowly lowered his head, but remained still, even as Spyro walked towards him.

'Why didn't you tell about the other purple dragons? You said Malefor and I were the only ones.'

Spyro stood beside him, watching him almost accusingly, but the Chronicler couldn't meet Spyro's gaze.

'Did you know? Before you came here?'

Ignitus was silent for a moment. 'I did not know… fully. But I knew they existed. At least the more recent ones that we had records of…'

'Like Giletha?'

Ignitus nodded sadly. Spyro swallowed his indignation for a moment, redirecting the conversation.

'What about the others? You're the Chronicler now, so you must know that.'

Ignitus nodded again, looking the drake in the eye. 'I'm afraid they met similar fates.' He paused for a moment of hesitation. 'All of them.'

Spyro stepped back. Giletha was only the latest… in a long line of corpses…

'All of them? What… what killed them?'

Ignitus' flicked his gaze to draw a book nestled in the shelf on the opposite wall. 'May I?'

Recalling a similar gesture from the previous Chronicler, Spyro swallowed before nodding.

The large, purple tome slid from the shelf, the covers gently falling open as it glided to their position, hovering in front of them. Spyro averted his eyes instinctively, but Ignitus thrummed with reassurance.

'There's nothing to see, Spyro. Look.'

They followed the final pages, beginning with Giletha and Shadros staying in a smaller dragon village. Once the nearby mole population sent a distress signal by flare, Giletha was the first to respond. Like Shadros described, she managed to hold off whatever was pursuing them through the tunnels… and it cost her her life. However, there was no image or vision of what happened in her final moments. Instead the final page was blank, and strangely tattered. It wouldn't surprise him if the page crumbled completely.

'The… condition of this page is unusual. All these books are supposedly immune to the passage of time; given the length of our history, it is needed. But for purple dragons, and whatever is killing them, it's as if… the energy, the magic contained in the book, is sucked out at the moment of their death.'

'Yes…' Spyro spoke softly, 'Shadros said that she was just a… husk, when he found her.'

Ignitus sighed and sent the book back into the shelf. 'And I cannot forestall this fate for you any longer, what with my new role here…'

They both stood in grim silence for a couple of minutes. Spyro, recalling a similar event in this very room, slowly shook his head determinedly. The future predicted for Cynder, one where she would concede to Malefor on his return, was one he managed to prevent.

'There's got to be something I can do – the previous Chronicler foresaw a future that I was able to stop.' He shook his head. 'I can't give up – not after coming this far.'

'Yes, you are right, young dragon…' Ignitus managed to smile proudly at him. 'I saw that, you know. When you refused to stay here to go after Cynder… you are full of surprises, young dragon.'

Spyro glanced away with embarrassment. 'Well, uh… I just did what I felt was right.'

'That's all I ask of you. And if that's enough… there may be hope yet…'

Spyro smiled back, before frowning and glancing around the chamber. 'Information… Ignitus, what about the grublins? Before I left, there was–'

'–some resistance. I know.' Ignitus smiled again. 'While I do not have any direct information on the grublins… dragons have encountered them in the past. Long before Malefor recruited them for the most recent war.'

Spyro's eyes widened. 'So Malefor didn't create them.'

'Given their lack of prevalence among dragon history, I'm inclined to agree.'

'Well, that's one thing I should send back to Warfang.' Spyro frowned, anger flashing through his eyes. 'Though I think the military might just dismiss it since it's coming from me…'

Ignitus shook his head. 'The Guardians are still the leaders, young dragon. Presented from me, I'm sure the military would be willing to listen. They were when I was there, after all. And if all else fails, they can ask me directly.'

Spyro studied the pendant. 'Won't it cause problems if all those dragons tried to talk to you at once?'

Ignitus nodded after a moment's pause. 'Indeed; I believe that information would also need to be passed on. Keeping the information limited to the Guardians and on a need-to-know basis might help.'

Spyro then looked around. 'Do you have any information on where they could be? The non-hostile grublins? And how we might communicate with them?'

'I'm… afraid those answers elude me, Spyro. These halls house the knowledge and history of the dragon race, but unfortunately contain little about the other races. The grublins have a natural affinity for soil and rock, so they would have little issue staying hidden deep underground, even from Malefor and the grublins serving him. Besides, he was focused on laying siege on the dragons and the surrounding populations, and so long as any other grublins stayed out of the conflict, it was not in his interest to hunt them down. With time, they might have been converted to his side as well – at least, that's what I assumed he was thinking.'

'I suppose three years is not that long in geological terms…' Spyro murmured regretfully. 'But it was still enough to do so much damage…'

'Young dragon.' The Chronicler's voice was filled with a mixture of concern and warning.

Spyro shook off his concerned gaze. 'I know. But still, I went to the Silent Plains, and went to their families… I'm not sure I can really ever get past it, though.' He shifted his focus. 'Ignitus, is there a book that lists dragons that are confirmed dead?'

Panic shot through the Chronicler as he widened his eyes in alarm. 'Spyro, you of all dragons should not be looking through such a thing.'

'I… I know…' Spyro sighed. 'But it can be useful, even if it's painful to go through.'

'What do you mean?'

Spyro closed his eyes and ran a paw down his forehead, massaging his temples in an attempt to centre himself. 'In Warfang, scouting parties are still going out to try and find survivors. Most of their trips turned up nothing, because they found the corpses… but not everyone was accounted for. If there was a way to narrow down the list…'

Ignitus lowered his head regretfully. 'The effects of the recent wars will take decades, if not centuries to recover from…' He raised his head. 'But you might be right. I do have such a book; for I found my name on the latest page. It was… unsettling, at first. But I know death is not always the end.'

Spyro turned to face Ignitus hopefully, and after a few moments, the Chronicler hummed worriedly. 'Are you sure you're ready, Spyro? I am sure the last few days have taken their toll on you. Perhaps you should take some time to rest first?'

'I… maybe…' Spyro lowered his head, still unused to the idea of staying in one place. 'I just hope you're right about the Aethereal–'

They both frowned and Talon raised his head towards the entrance, as a low, but distinct scraping echoed through the chamber from the entrance.

'Another visitor?' Ignitus sounded pleased. 'After a year, it's almost welcome.'

'Can you tell who… or what it is?' Spyro asked guardedly.

Talon silently stared at the entrance for a second before gliding down, hopping towards the entrance eagerly. The dragons watched him as he sniffed at the stone gate, screeching back at them in a commanding tone.

Ignitus smiled. 'I believe we can allow this one in.'

The Chronicler raised his large paw towards a glowing silver rune on the wall, which only became apparent when Ignitus was close enough. Spyro didn't recognise the rune – one which looked like a dragon's jagged tail curling in on itself – but he guessed it symbolised time or space.

The stone doors slid open with a thud, and they stared at the lone, dishevelled bird. Crimson ruffled his feathers miserably, shaking off several droplets, and quickly raised his head as Talon squawked a greeting.

'Another falcon?' Spyro stepped forward for a closer look. 'It could be one of Hunter's…'

Ignitus squinted at the newcomer, stepping aside to let him in, and releasing his hold of the rune panel, shutting the stone doors with another thud. 'It seems he carries a message.'

Talon took it upon himself to undo the strings on Crimson's neck and tail, the knots unfolding easily despite how tightly wound they appeared. The dragons guessed it was some special knot that only Hunter and the falcons recognised.

Spyro anxiously picked up the scroll and unrolled it. Just like he hoped…

'Cynder… and the others. They managed to get a message to me.'

'What does it say?' Ignitus coaxed gently, stepping forward to look beside Spyro.

Spyro,

I hope this reaches you. I have a lot of things I want to ask, but this is just to try and figure this out. Up until I wrote this, I had no idea if I'd ever be able to talk to you.

I just want to know if you're safe, Spyro. You leaving was… hard. I don't know how to put the feeling in words. Sion and Solaris actually helped me a lot, and this was kind of their idea in the first place, or at least they helped me figure it out.

Hunter wasn't sure if Crimson – he's the falcon who's hopefully with you now – could even find you or Talon. Pretty much all the falcons volunteered, but Crimson happened to be the one most familiar with the area.

I want to say more, but please, just send me a message back as soon as you can. Since you might be travelling to other areas, if you can send us a message with Crimson or Talon when you move, as well as your progress, it would really help. And if you do figure things out with that… thing, let me know as soon as you can. I would much rather be with you than stuck here, if it helps you in any way.

Yours,

Cynder

Spyro couldn't help but smile as an encompassing, warm fluttering passed through his chest. His smile turned to a confused frown as he felt Ignitus' eyes on him, the Chronicler's orange eyes glinting with amusement.

'You shouldn't keep her waiting, young dragon.'

Spyro rapidly flushed with embarrassment, closing his wings defensively. 'Wait… Us…How much… do you know…?' Why am I even thinking about this?!

Ignitus raised his head with a loud chuckle, turning towards the rear library. 'Come, Crimson. There is a fountain of water can drink from. I'm sure you're exhausted.'

Despite Ignitus' teasing gaze and comments, Spyro soon began the grim work of sorting through the documents for any information he could send back with his reply. Ignitus quickly summoned more cushions for Talon and Crimson, but he didn't have anything like a perch for them to stand on – so the birds were content to stand on book stacks for the time being.

Spyro was somewhat torn; he knew Cynder and all the others should know what happened to him as soon as possible, but every name in the most recent war could make a world of difference for any dragons whose loved ones were still missing. Studying the history of the most recent Ape War, which had started before he was born, he had to go through several decades' worth of pages and write down every name in the Book of Death he found. He recognised many of them, as he'd done very much the same thing in Warfang. He flicked through the pages determinedly; any names that weren't in the book were dragons who were alive and in need of rescuing. Hopefully, that would be enough for the scouts to find them.

With Ignitus' assistance, he went through any reports of grublins they could and drafted up what information they could glean into a leatherbark sheet. While much of it was speculative, the information they did have would at least ease the commanders' minds about the nature of the creatures, and how to better recognise hostile intent.

After he finally got those two tasks out of the way, he realised that he had not eaten or drunk, nor even felt thirsty or hungry. Ignitus confirmed it had been almost twelve hours since he began. Like the rest of the Isle, its energy seemed to be enough to sustain him for now.

Crimson was soon ready to leave, though the scroll that Talon re-attached with Spyro's help was twice the size of his previous one. Thankfully, it would be easier for him to return to Warfang than it was tracking him down.

As Ignitus opened the stone doors once again, Spyro smiled gratefully at the dark-feathered falcon as he turned to look him and Talon in the eye.

'Thanks for bringing me this, Crimson. Get back to Warfang as soon as you can. I'm guessing they'll send another letter immediately, and I'll wait here until they do. Don't push yourself too hard, though, alright?'

Crimson simply stared back stoically, inclining his head once before unfurling his wings and flying up and through the stone passage, quickly vanishing from their sight.

Spyro sat back, satisfied. Ignitus soon sat beside him, thrumming with contentment.

'I know you didn't find the answer you were looking for, but you've made progress.' As Spyro nodded animatedly, he continued. 'What will you do now?'

The purple drake lowered his head for a moment. 'Well, I said I would stay here until Crimson came back.' He glanced backwards, eyeing the stacks of books longingly. 'Could I stay? I don't have anywhere else to go right now.'

Ignitus smiled and touched his wing to Spyro's side. 'Of course, young dragon. Take all the time you need.'

Spyro relaxed and smiled, before turning back towards the library. There were many aspects of dragon history he wanted to touch upon, after all… And now, he had the perfect chance, in a place of security he was not expecting to find, but appreciated all the same.

The first few days of Sion's training took the most getting used to. The most obvious to him was getting up before the sun was even visible; on special occasions, he was more than willing to get up early. But every day was another matter. Tython and Tytus checked on his progress if they were available and nearby, and nearly every soldier recounted feeling the same when they first started training. Considering that guards and soldiers needed to be on duty at all times, it wasn't surprising – but it was nearly a week by the time Sion could wake up and operate normally. He went home early, thankfully, as training hours ended at around ten-solus; early enough in the afternoon for him to still visit Cynder and hang out in Warfang after a quick nap.

The first few hours of the morning were spent in the training arena. While Sion was excited for the first day despite his grogginess, he was baffled when he was given documents to study, with information about the positions of emergency structures, where gates could be operated from, emergency evacuation points… He soon had difficulty keeping track of all the information. Terrador was patient, but Sion was required to recall specific information like this at a moment's notice. There was going to be a test at the end of the week, but Terrador made it clear that failing it was very likely, even in the best circumstances. The test was not made to pass or fail, but to keep track of his progress. And so, the theory side of the training was ongoing, and refreshers were given even to the higher members of the military regularly. It was easy for Sion to understand why this information was important, as opposed to his previous lessons with Volteer, and so pushed through each morning the best he could.

After a couple of hours, he would finally start something he was used to. He'd already established his own training routine; the only difference was that he was required to do his training in full armour. Not only that, but the guard's armour was heavier and inflexible compared to the smaller plates he used in the previous mission. This slowed him down considerably, but he welcomed the challenge. If he could build up his endurance so he could move quickly even with heavy armour, it would be even easier for him to use lighter armour at other times.

In the afternoon, he was assigned to accompany one of the guards currently on watch atop the parapets. Lattik handled this himself the first day, introducing him to the general layout and the points with the most tactical, and at times, visually pleasing view. Despite his nervousness, Sion enjoyed spending time up there, though he did not relish the time when he would stand up there alone for hours on end with nothing to do. Lattik and many guards freely admitted this was the main reason why guard duty is not as easy as it appears.

Over the week, Sion was able to accompany other guards. Tytus, Tython, Clauk, Girion, Fuero and even Kallon stayed with him and answered questions. Upon seeing Kallon, Sion narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the fire dragon, but after Lattik introduced them properly, Kallon bowed his head and apologised to the young drake on Spyro's behalf. It seemed he carried some guilt for what he said to him, and felt partially responsible for what happened after. Sion was taken aback, and while the animosity was dispelled, conversation after that was awkward and limited to Sion's questions about the city's defences.

The following week, the study and training within the arena proceeded much the same. However, instead of accompanying the guards on the parapets, Sion would join them in drills regarding formations. Unfortunately, Sion was only able to observe and learn the names and types of formations the other guards went through in their drills, though he was able to use visual aids instead of text mixed with diagrams. He surprised even himself and Telsa when he began to ask for copies of documents like these, taking them home to study before sleeping.

It wasn't until he started to join them in the drills – a couple of days into the week – that he actually interacted with the other soldiers as a group. They were surprisingly friendly; it was likely a fresh face was welcome, especially after the war had taken its toll on their numbers. Sion avoided bringing up the subject of Spyro himself or the grublin situation, but it was only a matter of time until they began to question him, given his relationship with Spyro.

They were taking a break after running through several rapidly-shifting orders from Ralis, and the drill was taking place on the wide, rectangular platform just opposite the bath dome. It was one of the more popular spots, as it was easy for the dragons to wash off after their training sessions. While the majority of the military were drakes, dragonesses of different elements were present as well.

Tython was within the group, so Sion was able to stay somewhat close to him and listen in on the soldier's conversations. He wanted to talk, but felt like he hadn't quite "earned" his place to speak freely yet. That, and he was still significantly shorter than all of them.

So it surprised him when Viona, a chatty fire dragoness that seemed to be friends with Tython, shifted her gaze down to him curiously.

'What was your name again, kid?'

'Uh… Sion.' He fought back a retort to the "kid" remark.

She nodded with a friendly gaze. 'How's training going for you? I imagine it's difficult with… you know. Being the only one.'

Tython snorted with amusement but kept his mouth shut, and Sion smiled awkwardly as he tried to answer.

'It's… not easy. But I'm learning a lot.' He glanced around at the other groups, with Ralis having disappeared into the baths for their break. 'How often do you guys do these drills?'

'Once a month. We would barely ever use them otherwise.' She paused. 'Well, except for that time when Spyro ran amok a couple weeks ago…'

Tython cleared his throat with a disapproving frown, tipping his head to the bronze drake, whose head drooped sullenly. She quickly grimaced apologetically.

'Oh… sorry. He must have been your friend? You guys are around the same age, after all.'

Sion nodded slowly. 'Yeah…'

'Any news about him?'

Sion noticed some wary looks from the closest groups, but he ignored them.

'No. But we sent a message; hopefully, a falcon can track him down.'

Viona nodded with encouragement. 'I hope he'll be alright. We'll probably need him somewhere down the line.'

They all turned their heads as one of the nearby guards broke away from his group. 'You should be careful about saying that, Viona.'

Tython blinked in surprise at the Ice drake. 'Girion? I didn't see you during the drill.'

'You were probably too busy admiring the dragonesses.' He said it with a straight face, but Sion stifled a laugh. 'It wouldn't be the first time.'

'Hey! I'd never do that to Corla!'

'Relax, tough guy,' Viona said in a teasing manner. 'Limit it to just "admiring" and we won't mind so much.'

Girion raised a scaled brow. 'Speak for yourself.'

Viona quickly frowned back. 'Stop being so uptight. And what did you mean before? About Spyro?'

Girion eyed Sion uncomfortably for a moment. 'You seem to forget, even if it wasn't his fault, that Spyro put Tasmus and Relig in the infirmary.'

Sion shook his head quickly. 'That wasn't Spyro; it was the thing inside him.'

The others glanced at Girion quickly, who nodded. 'I know. But Spyro was completely at its mercy – it was a miracle that no one died.'

Sion couldn't find anything to say to that, just looking away despondently.

'What exactly are you trying to say, Girion?' Tython cut in impatiently.

'Can we really trust him? Or rather, would it even be safe to allow him back into Warfang?'

'That's the whole point,' Sion managed to say, 'of him trying to get rid of it.'

Girion still looked doubtful. 'Before even that, though, there were troubling signs… remember the market?'

Sion looked away while Viona and Tython glanced at him curiously. 'The market?' Viona repeated. 'What happened, Sion?'

Sion hesitated before he began to explain. 'Girion and Clauk got into an… argument, with him. I admit, even I wasn't sure he could get that mad.'

'About the grublins?'

The drakes of the group all lowered their heads as a sudden silence permeated throughout the air.

'Like I said…' Girion growled, 'keep your voice down about it!'

After the other gazes withdrew, Tython spoke in a hushed tone after raising his head slightly.

'Isn't the grublin problem something for the Guardians to handle?'

They all watched Girion expectantly, who turned away.

'Yes, well…'

'This is pointless,' Tython muttered. 'If you have concerns, bring it to the Guardians.'

'I already did. They couldn't provide any answers.'

'There aren't any yet,' Sion said, 'so all we can do is wait. As much as I hate it.'

Girion's arms stiffened as he lowered his head. 'I… I can't just wait for another Malefor to happen.'

'What?' Sion's mouth fell open, but Girion had already begun to walk off. 'Spyro's nothing like Malefor!'

Several heads rose to watch them and the retreating Ice drake, but Sion couldn't say anything else over the grim silence. Slowly the group returned to their conversations, but they were far less animated and more sombre now.

'Don't mind him,' Viona reassured them, 'he's always been the cautious type.'

Sion shook his head to himself. 'Why? After all Spyro's done…'

'They're just afraid. Coming out of a war will leave a bad taste in everyone's mouth, especially if they lose someone close to them. It wouldn't surprise me if he lost someone too, but he's not very forthcoming with that kind of information.'

She blinked for a moment. 'Tython? You're oddly silent.'

The Earth drake remained standing stiffly, lowering his gaze. 'He… raises a good point. I can't help but feel like something terrible is going to happen. I need to protect Corla and Alaia, but this is… not a clear threat.'

'Then we have to trust Spyro to come through for us.'

Tython and Viona nodded to him slowly, and they were all silent before being jolted by a sharp, commanding voice.

'What's with all the chit-chat?' Ralis barked, not sounding at all relaxed despite still dripping from bathwater. 'Back to your positions! Break time's over!'

When they were done for the day, Sion fought off the urge to discard all his armour just on the stone steps. It was his armour now, and he wanted to take care of it – soldiers were expected to maintain any armour they were given, and replacements usually came out of their own pay. However, going to the baths before heading home was also not so easy, as the other soldiers had the same idea – and each of them had to drop their armour off with Karrina before heading in. The Atlawa was busy, as Sion spotted her frantically noting down whose armour was whose as well as having difficulty lifting all the pieces repeatedly.

The line was long enough that Sion couldn't be bothered, and he made his way down the steps carefully, still not used to his armour's weight. It was then that he spotted a shape overhead – a falcon with dark feathers. His exhaustion vanished almost instantly, as he turned around and bounded up the steps towards the falcon roost. It wasn't long before he saw two dragonesses flying after the falcon as well, and they silently converged to stand together outside the falcon roost, staring at the entrance expectantly.

Thankfully, Hunter acknowledged them with a nod, immediately undoing the straps on Crimson. The dark-feathered falcon ruffled his feathers and flew up to a series of straw nests closer to the ceiling, curling up and drifting off swiftly.

Hunter focused on the three young dragons, who entered the building just as he unfolded the scrolls. 'It's from Spyro.'

Sion and Cynder sighed with relief, while Solaris remained focused on the scroll. 'Well? Give it to Cynder. We don't have all day.'

Despite her eagerness to read the letter, Cynder inwardly bristled with annoyance. 'Solaris, a little tact…'

Hunter twitched his ear and smiled slightly as he carefully passed the scroll over. He had to separate the first sheet, as there was another, much thicker sheet entwined. He kept the second and third sheets separate, and it became apparent that the first was the one with Spyro's actual claw writing.

Sion and Solaris peeked from either side as Cynder pored over the words. It wasn't the same as him returning, but she was so grateful that even a part of him was back, small as it might be.

Cynder,

You don't know how good it felt to get your message. Everything feels so uncertain, and even though Talon's been a huge help, I found it difficult to even sleep, wandering alone… But I'm in a better place now.

First things first – Ignitus is alive! Cynder gasped. Well, not exactly. He did die, but he's now the Chronicler. I don't know how their succession works, but it was a relief, to say the least. He has a lot of information here, Cynder, and a lot of it could help you, the Guardians, and maybe all of Warfang… but I couldn't find anything on the Aethereal inside me. Ignitus assures me that the magic here suppresses destructive intent, so it should be safe for me to stay with him… so far, that seems to be true.

I've attached two other sheets that have information for Warfang. It was all I could scrape up to send you this as soon as I could. The first is a list of names. There's a book that lists the names of all dragons that have died. I know you're probably thinking that that's the last thing I should be thinking about right now, but I know there are a lot of missing dragons out there. This list could help the scouts find those who are still alive. Because if a dragon is missing and not on that list, then they need help.

I found some information about the grublins as well. I wasn't able to outright confirm whether they are enemies or not… but given our history, they existed long before Malefor used them in the Deep War. Ignitus also believes there are different factions, but we couldn't figure out exactly where the other ones might be. I've attached some of the observations that could help the military identify which ones are and aren't hostile – the most obvious signs are significant mutations or them using dark magic.

I want to stay here with Ignitus for a while. There are a lot of books here that could be useful… and I've really missed reading. So if you want to send another message like the one before, I should still be here.

Ignitus can pretty much see everything, so I know Warfang is not under siege or anything. But I hope you guys are alright, too.

I think about you all the time, Cynder. And… well, I'm pretty sure Ignitus knows about us.

The last few lines were hastily carved.

I don't know why I just wrote that.

Yours,

Spyro

'Uh… who's Ignitus again?'

Cynder's moment of joy was quickly cut off with Solaris' scolding tone.

'He was the Fire Guardian! Blockhead.'

Sion smirked and glanced at Cynder curiously. 'So, can I write something back?'

Hunter cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'I think you should take this information to the Guardians first.'

Cynder almost dropped the sheet. 'Of course! They'll need to know about Ignitus.'

Hunter hushed his voice. 'And I would suggest you keep the information to yourselves until they decide what to do with it.'

Everyone glared at Sion. Even the falcons.

'What?'

Solaris took on an evil grin. 'Should I gag him?'

Cynder stifled a chuckle and shook her head. 'Let's just get there as quickly as possible.'

They nodded thankfully as Hunter rolled the three sheets up together as they were before and Cynder took the package in one paw. The trio then turned to leave, only to see an exhausted dragonfly hovering and panting, glaring at Cynder accusingly. He saw their expressions and softened, but he still folded his arms indignantly.

'Couldn't you have woken me up, Cynder? Especially if it's a message from Spyro…'

Cynder nodded quickly, and he raised his eyes hopefully. 'How is he?'

'He's fine!' Sion said with a smile. 'He's with–'

Solaris cut in with a jab from her wing claw into his shoulder. 'Ow!'

As Sion rubbed it, Hunter cleared his throat. 'Again, take it to the Guardians. Sparx, you can be filled in at the same time.'

Sparx eyed him flatly before shrugging. 'Well, as long as Spyro is okay, I'll endure it…'

'IGNITUS IS ALIVE?'

Solaris shot the dragonfly a sharp glare. Thankfully, they had dismissed the guards for a moment and retreated to the chambers before Cynder revealed that piece of information. Sparx and the three Guardians stared at her in disbelief for several long seconds.

Solaris broke the silence. 'Forget Sion, we should have gagged you.'

The Guardians ignored the shared glare between the dragonfly and dragoness.

'Ignitus… old friend…'

Volteer studied Terrador for a moment, quickly breaking into a small smile.

'Well, if succession to the title of Chronicler is possible, I am glad it was him. I can only imagine the criteria of being admitted… hopefully not everyone has to sacrifice themselves in such a fashion…'

'Exercise a little restraint, Volteer.' Cyril's voice was gentle despite his attempted chiding. 'I, for one, am glad we didn't truly lose him. He won't be leading Warfang, but at the very least we can use his guidance.'

'Speaking of which…' Solaris spoke up expectantly. 'One of you should try and contact him right now.'

The three Guardians blinked before giving each other searching glances. Volteer and Cyril shared one final look, before they both focused on Terrador.

'Go ahead, Terrador,' Cyril said softly, a tone of his jarring enough that Sparx stared at him.

The Earth Guardian paused, then nodded thankfully to them both. He closed his eyes, and opened his mind – as if he were to sense the flow of water, wind and soil, he was looking for a familiar dragon's mind…

'Terrador?'

It took him a moment to absorb it.

'Ignitus… It is… good to hear your voice.'

'It is alright, Terrador. Take your time.'

Terrador was silent for a few seconds.

'I… find I cannot figure out what to say. It is enough to know that you are still in this world.'

'Well… Perhaps I can offer congratulations?'

'You're… referring to Nadina?'

There was a pause, and Terrador could only imagine Ignitus smiling and nodding. 'I am glad you were able to find each other.'

'Thank you, Ignitus. But, there is the matter of the Earth and Wind dragons…'

'Yes, Spyro made me aware. The list he and I compiled will hopefully help you locate more survivors. Normally I could use their individual tomes to find their current position, but… as a new Chronicler, I can barely make some things work. Individual tomes seem to have a mind of their own, and these have shown me no hint of where they are now.'

'Just having a list as you describe would help immensely. Make sure to thank Spyro, on behalf of the Guardians.'

'I will. And as much as I'd like to continue, my time grows short… I wish to speak to Cynder, and then I have to cut off contact. Chroniclers have to contend with limited interference with the outside world, after all. We'll speak again – Volteer and Cyril will get their turns.'

'Of course, old friend. Good luck – with everything.'

Terrador opened his eyes to those around him. He momentarily ignored the other Guardian's searching gazes, addressing Cynder.

'Ignitus wishes to speak to you, Cynder.' As she raised her brow in surprise, he smiled. 'Just relax, and open your mind.'

Cynder bit back her momentary nervousness, obliging and slowly closing her eyes. Many thoughts ran through her head in that moment, the foremost being: What would he think of her? Did she fail him in regards to Spyro?

Thankfully, within a few seconds, she heard his gentle voice.

'Cynder, it is good to see you again – in a matter of speaking.'

She hadn't talked with much, but the voice was unmistakable.

'Ignitus? Are you…?'

'You read the letter, so you know the truth.'

'I'm… sorry, Ignitus…'

'Don't be. You did everything you could.' As her thoughts drifted to more recent events, he continued. 'Nor could you do anything about this… creature. Even the Chronicler – the one before me, that is – had very little information.'

'Can you help him?'

'Spyro's clearly quite rattled from his ordeal… but so far, he seems to be recovering. He'll be safe here, but…'

Silence.

'Ignitus?'

'It will not help in the long run. All we can do now is go through all the resources this library has to offer. And believe me, it will take a long time… even after a year, I still do not know all the ins and outs of this place.'

Cynder swallowed worriedly, but his words put her at ease, at least a little. 'Okay. Do what you can. Will you contact us again?'

'I will. But I must cut our conversation short, due to the nature of this pendant. But… know that I am proud of you. You and Spyro. I only hope fate can grant you both the life you want…'

As the voice faded, Cynder opened her eyes slowly, her heart racing a little. She took a couple of calming breaths as the other examined her.

'Aww… don't I get a turn?' Sion asked, disappointed.

'Of course not,' Solaris jabbed, 'since the Chronicler has better things to do than talk to someone like you.'

Sion grinned at her slyly. 'I could say the same for you.'

Cynder cleared her throat upon Solaris' glare. 'Alright, cool it, you two.' She sighed as she turned around toward the Guardians. 'At least Spyro is safe. But Ignitus didn't sound very confident about the future. Coming from the Chronicler, that doesn't sound good.'

'That's putting it mildly.' Cyril frowned grimly. 'I was hoping for some news and at least a step toward a resolution for Spyro, but it's a mere delay in the grand scheme of things.'

'And I'm sure Areth and I have already covered everything in our archives,' Solaris added, 'so we can't really help with what we have in Warfang.'

Volteer rapidly ducked his head for a moment. 'Well, there is the possibility of the ruins… and Malefor's writings… After all, he found the grublins and raised an army. We may be able to find more about them.'

Cyril glanced at him doubtfully. 'Haven't those already been deciphered?'

'Well, yes, but the possibility remains we may have overlooked–'

'The time period of those documents,' Solaris interrupted, 'is completely irrelevant to the grublins. They lay out Malefor's experience before and after he turned on the Guardian dragons and defected to the Apes. We need something after that, and that assumes he encountered the grublins long before the recent war.'

Cyril nodded in agreement. 'Not to mention he had left those personal chambers behind, and even if he may have written while ruling over the Apes, he may have destroyed them over the years along with the Apes themselves.'

There was a long stretch of silence, until Sparx hovered up between them.

'So no matter what, we're grasping at straws?'

The dragons bowed their heads regretfully. Solaris slowly frowned deeper as she growled to herself.

'I hate that. I really should have spoken to the Chronicler – he needs to organise his library more efficiently.'

Spyro and Ignitus found out very quickly that anything hinted to be linked to Convexity or Aethereals was only ever mentioned in passing, as he couldn't find anything significant except for images in his own book, searching for his journey to stop Cynder after they first fought. The other purple dragons all ended the same way as Giletha, with tattered pages devoid of magic or any useful information about their killers.

Once Ignitus was able to contact the others again, he clarified that since he no longer needed sleep, and honestly had nothing better to do, he had gone through the entire history of dragons himself after learning of Spyro's uncertain future. All they could go over was the information already available to them.

In the meantime, Sion's training progressed in the following weeks. Sion was able to bear the weight of his armour far better, since he quickly decided to wear the armour as much as possible long after training had ended.

It took him a couple of weeks, but his progress and knowledge of battle formations had improved enough that Lattik considered he was nearly ready to handle guard duty on his own.

Lattik met Sion at the beginning of the week in the training dome as per usual. Upon finding out he was going to be doing something official, Sion beamed with curiosity as the commander led him out and toward their destination.

'Ooh! Will I be on the walls? The armoury?'

The electric commander frowned somewhat uncomfortably. 'No, unfortunately. I don't want to put you in a position where an attack is most likely – given the grublins may still be a threat.' He paused. 'I've decided to post you at the jail cells.'

'Oh! So I'll be seeing a lot of Snotty and those pirates?'

Lattik stared at him in bewilderment. 'I didn't think you would be keen on that. Guard duty can be downright unpleasant. And being near those Skavengers is right up there.'

Sion tilted his head curiously. 'So why exactly did you want me to guard the cells if I wouldn't like it?'

Lattik coughed. '"Liking" is not really a factor here. You go where you are needed; it's as simple as that. And in this case, the jail is the most appropriate for a new guard. It is among the least likely targets for an enemy. And it will give me a good idea of your attention span.'

Sion gulped. That was something he knew he would have difficulty with. 'I guess that makes sense.'

Lattik's stern gaze softened somewhat. 'Don't fret; you've already shown a good level of focus, considering how well you knew the city's landmarks on your last test.'

Sion glanced away awkwardly. 'I guess it's easier to focus when information is obviously useful.'

He and Lattik looked up as the stone archway leading to the cells appeared as they rounded a stone wall. 'Then you'll need to understand that a guard is always needed here, even if it is not obvious as to why.'

'But it is obvious. So they can't escape.'

Lattik nodded silently, slowing to a stop before they could get in earshot of the cells lined up before them. Now that he analysed it, being on duty, the actual cells that were occupied were only on the top row, and only half of it at that. Similar to Warfang, the tiers below had similar rows, and the bottom half had significantly larger cells, one of which Spyro had to sit in. These were obviously for dragons, but thankfully they hadn't been used in a long time.

He examined the top row again, flanked by torches on either end and one in the middle. If he had to patrol it repeatedly, he didn't relish the idea of walking back and forth for hours on end.

Lattik led him in until they were a fair distance from Snotty's cell, but it was likely the Skavengers could hear them anyway.

'Now, I'll stay with you today. Terrador quizzed you last time, but did you actual study the layout of this area alongside the rest of Warfang?'

Sion blinked thoughtfully for a moment, and nodded. 'I did, but not that much. All I really know is where the exits are and where those crank things are for each door.'

Lattik nodded with satisfaction. 'There's honestly not much more to it than that. But I'll show you around, regardless.'

Sion briefly felt several gazes following their progress despite Lattik intentionally avoiding the landing right next to the cells. He quickly pulled his eyes away when Lattik began to talk, but he couldn't help being saddened by the lack of life behind their beady eyes.

He glanced back up at the cells as they went around the jail perimeter, surrounded by high, if still somewhat ruined stone walls.

'Something on your mind, Sion?'

The commander flicked his eyes up towards the cells knowingly.

'How'd you know?'

'It's my job to know when a soldier is not completely focused. Stress is the most common issue.'

Sion hesitated. 'I know I'm supposed to be guarding them, but I kinda feel sorry for them.'

Lattik sighed as he looked up over the tiered stone layers. 'You would not be the first. But it's out of our claws now. The moles and cheetahs unanimously vetoed the decision to reduce their sentence, even though Mason was satisfied with Snotty's level of cooperation. I suppose, in the end, they are pirates, and for a long time at that…'

Lattik finally took him closer to the cells, trying to ignore the eyes on them as he showed Sion how to operate the crank wheels. 'You'll need to open them for the moles when they come to deliver the food and water, and in the afternoon when they return to collect what's left. And this is the unpleasant part… the moles are the ones who transport the food, but they make no effort to hide their displeasure.'

'Oh…'

Sion tried to hide his disappointment as best he could, but Lattik's piercing gaze told him otherwise.

'One more thing before we start. Normally the guards are not allowed to talk to the prisoners… However, given that Snotty has already been let out under supervision, and has otherwise been cooperative, guards are allowed to speak to him. Otherwise, he might continually pester them for a response at all. The others would barely respond to them regardless.'

They passed by Snotty's cell, but when Sion looked, the Skavenger was sitting and facing away from the cell bars.

Lattik concluded their round back to the entrance. He called attention to the nearest guard post connected to the south-western wall.

'If you need to report anything, there will be a guard on that wall, and they can send for help. But it is important that you stay in the vicinity while you wait for backup unless there's no other choice.'

Sion tightened his muzzle nervously. 'What kind of thing would I need to do that for?'

'Internal riots. External riots. Attempted escape.' The commander remained stoic. 'You'll have to judge for yourself. Though anything other than them quietly carrying out their sentence could be interpreted as such.'

As the hours passed, and the two dragons supervised the delivery of food, Sion observed obediently. However, he wanted a closer look at the Skavengers, but that would have to wait until he was on his own. Thankfully, after two days of the arrangement, Lattik was able to clear him to be on his own for the remainder of the week, but given the predictably grouchy mole deliveries, it was not going to be an enjoyable experience.

The first day after Sion's completed orientation with Lattik, he warily approached Snotty's cell. The patrolling guards on the south-western wall had a pretty good view of the jail overall, so he didn't want to give them a bad first impression the first day on his own. On the other claw, he found it difficult to ignore them as he passed by on patrol.

After the first two hours of his shift, he finally worked up the nerve to approach Snotty's cell. He stood there silently for a few seconds, peering curiously through the bars until the Skavenger's beady eyes reflected the sunlight outside.

'Snotty?'

After a slight twitch of his ears, he continued.

'I'm going to be your guard for the rest of this week. Thought I might say hi.'

Snotty snorted as he grinned a little. 'Heh… Yeh look familiar, bronze laddie…'

The drake shifted uncomfortably. 'Yeah, well, I saw you a couple of times when you were training with Hunter.'

The Skavengers squinted and studied him further before blinking. 'Oh, you're that purple lad's friend… what was your name again?'

'Sion.'

'Right… sorry, me mind is startin' to lose track of things like names. Yer guards sure like to avoid it, fer some reason…'

'Because you're a prisoner? Normally we aren't allowed to talk to prisoners.'

Snotty coughed before grinning at him. 'Yer talkin' to me right now! What's the deal?'

Sion shrugged. 'Well… I'm bored. And we are allowed to talk to you, since you've been cooperating pretty well.'

Snotty's grin fell as he looked away towards the cell wall. 'Didn't let them reduce their sentence like they suggested.'

'I know. I'm sorry about that.'

Snotty exhaled quietly. 'Yeh well, I wasn't expecting it to actually go through. Skavengers aren't exactly popular. We never were.'

Sion looked away awkwardly for several seconds, trying to muster a response. Snotty simply grinned again.

'Yeh don't need to answer that. What about your friend? What happened to the purple lad?'

Sion was silent as his gaze fell. 'He left.'

Snotty lowered his head. 'Sorry to hear that.'

Sion debated within his head whether to tell him the news, but the Guardians had made it clear that it was need-to-know. Still, Spyro is safe for now…

'Is there anything you need? Or the other Skavengers? I know you're prisoners, but still…'

Snotty's nose twitched, but he remained silent.

'Snotty?'

'Aye think it maybe better for yeh to see it yourself, laddie. When those moles bring the food.'

Sion raised a confused brow. He had already seen the moles bringing food the last couple of days already with Lattik. The moles were obviously not too considerate of the prisoners, but that was to be expected.

'If you're talking about them not liking you, I already–'

Snotty shook his head slowly. 'Not that. Yeh'll see if you pay a tad more attention this time.' He stood up and walked closer to the bars, trying to peek out towards the entrance. 'They should be here soon.'

Sion waited for another half an hour, and sure enough, a pair of moles showed up at the gate, wheeling a trolley with baskets of cooked fish. Sion's stomach rumbled as he smelled them, even though the variety of fish didn't look nearly as enticing as they would in the market. He was tempted to ask for some right away, but he knew the prisoner should get priority. He greeted the grumpy moles the best he could and guided them to each of the cells, opening them and pushing the baskets in like Lattik showed him while the moles stood back. There was a single, smaller basket for Snotty, given he was by himself, and another for him as the guard on duty. Sion made sure it was for him before he started, sitting on the warm stone out of sight from the cells and happily picked apart each and every fish. Most of them were more common like perch or bream, and while they didn't have the flavour of blue-winged fish, he was hungry enough that it tasted good nonetheless. He finished a little too quickly, wishing there was more. Fortunately, the moles had to stay to collect the leftovers and baskets, and after some pestering, the moles allowed him to have any leftovers from the prisoners if he wanted, though they weren't too keen on the idea.

The moles waited around for another half an hour for the prisoners to finish, and Sion eagerly started chewing through the fish from the next basket, despite the server's concerned gazes.

'Isn't that dangerous?' The larger, brown-furred one asked. 'They could have slipped poison in there for all you know.'

'Really?' Sion said through a mouthful. 'Didn't we confishcate all their weaponsh and shtrip them of everyfing but their clothesh?'

The other mole exchanged a glance with his partner. 'Well, yes, but… those cells can get filthy, and the Skavengers could have got their grubby paws all over them–'

They flinched in disgust as Sion continued to loudly chew through all the fish in the basket, quickly moving on to the next. They fidgeted uncomfortably as Sion kept going without any sign of slowing down or stopping.

However, Sion soon felt a nagging thought thumping in the back of his head.

Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?

He paused with an open jaw, scanning the baskets on the trolley in front of him. At first, he was happy there was so much fish leftover. Then he glanced back at the cells worriedly.

'They barely ate. What gives?'

The moles didn't answer as he grabbed the basket still more or less filled with fish, bringing it to the second cell, and tapping on the metal bars with his claws.

'Uh, guys? There's still plenty of fish. Did some of you not see me bring it in? It still tastes good.'

Apart from a few gazes, he got no reaction. Sion frowned and tapped the bars again.

'Hello? Did you hear me?'

'We're not hungry.'

The low growl came from the largest Skavengers sitting in the corner. Sion blinked as he slowly recognised him. The large Skavenger talked with a slow drawl compared to his captain.

'Oh! What was your name again? Wart?'

'Wort.'

'Right…' Sion said awkwardly. 'So… fish?'

Wort shifted his large head toward the basket. 'I already ate.'

'What about the others?'

They waited a moment, but none of the others reacted.

'They're not hungry.'

Sion could only stare at them worriedly, and after another minute, moved on to the other cells. None of the Skavengers were willing to eat any more, if at all.

By now, the servers were getting impatient. They tapped the back of Sion's leg as he was trying to get the final cell to respond.

'Are you done yet? You can't force them to eat. And we've got customers waiting down in the market!'

Sion hesitated, but reluctantly helped the moles load what fish they had left to take back to the market. He soon went back to Snotty's cell, the Skavenger twitching his ears expectantly as the drake arrived.

'So? Notice anything, laddie?'

Sion nodded sadly. 'They're not eating right. Why?'

Snotty didn't answer immediately, studying the drake doubtfully. 'It could be a long story, laddie. Do yeh know why we are the way we are? Why Skavengers are scavengers?'

'I dunno. I never really thought about it.' He slowly gripped his muzzle. 'Though I do remember Spyro mentioning something about a city that you guys lived in before…'

Snotty nodded. 'To cut a long story short, the place we came from wasn't much better than bein' in prison. We scallywags are used to livin' the free kinda life, yeh know? Bein' pirates was the only thing these dogs could do.'

'Can't you convince them to eat? They could starve!'

Snotty gazed downcast, all hints of amusement gone. 'I tried. But ten years of yer life gone, spent locked up, is no small fry.'

Sion glanced toward the other cells sympathetically for a moment. 'I… know I'd find it horrible. But you all will be released in another nine years, so…'

'Nine years may not seem like much to yeh skylubbers, but fer a pirate, our life expectancy was never good. Once these dogs do get released, they may be in no shape to continue livin' the way they want.'

'Well, you are pirates. You can't just go around stealing and killing people.'

Snotty tightened his muzzle with a shred of anger. 'Don't yeh think I know that? Why do yeh think I went along with this in the first place? Problem is, these guys follow my lead, and while I'm prepared to stay, they were not. They're too dumb to know any better. And they're supposed to be the smartest of me crew!'

Sion was silent for a while, trying to think of a way to get them to eat. None came to mind, though he continued to ponder this even as he continued the rest of his shift.

His shift continued throughout the afternoon, until about eleven-solus when his replacement arrived for the night shift. When asked, the fire guard confirmed that the Skavengers did this often, but there was little that could be done, as they had already raised the issue with Lattik and the Guardians.

Nevertheless, Sion made his way up to the Guardian's chambers after the guard took over, still glancing over his shoulder at the prison falling away as he took to the air.

Terrador briefly lowered the parchment he'd been holding up to read, folding his claws together and lowering his head with a troubled frown.

'I would think Lattik would have gone over this with you already.'

Sion stood opposite the sitting Guardian in his chambers, scratching at his snout with slight embarrassment.

'Well… I probably didn't notice because I was eating the leftovers…'

Terrador was silent for a moment before sighing. 'Well, we have been aware of this for a while now. Unfortunately, for the Skavengers at least, the moles and cheetahs are the ones who actually suffered the effects of their crimes over the generations. As such, they are adverse to the idea of reducing their sentence or at the very least letting them out of the cells more often. Especially Prowlus… he seemed almost pleased to hear they were not eating properly.'

'Is there any way to help them?' Sion asked hopefully.

Terrador thrummed sadly, growling slightly as he shook his head. 'The other Guardians and I haven't been able to find a solution. We tried to implement some time out of the cells, but only we and some guards were willing to take time to do so. And if that's not enough to help them… We cannot. It's that simple. They are criminals, after all, and prisoners.'

When Sion's brow continued to furrow worriedly, Terrador watched with understanding.

'It is normal to feel some sympathy for criminals, Sion, but as part of the military you will witness problems that you cannot solve. The city's safety and security are your priorities – you must learn this sooner rather than later.'

Sion slowly inclined his head, but was unable to hide his disappointment. Terrador watched him as he left, twitching his thick tail for a moment as the bronze drake stepped through the chamber entrance.

'How long are you going to keep that up?' He rumbled with amusement.

There was some shifting of wings and a tail behind the closed slat door behind him, and a certain turquoise dragoness walked over to sit beside him, smiling at him playfully.

'You know how he is. I was waiting for him to make some remark on it… but he didn't even notice.' She frowned. 'He must actually be concerned for them.'

Terrador nodded reluctantly. 'As regretful as it is, we can't offer those prisoners anything else. If we keep pushing the moles and cheetahs to lessen their sentence, or offer them some sort of relief from their cells, relations could be strained. Prowlus, especially, is completely against anything of the sort. In a twisted way, he seems to draw satisfaction from their current plight.'

'I can understand why, even if I don't agree with it. After all, they had captured people and kept them prisoner for their own amusement for decades. One decade in retaliation isn't enough for them.'

'We could say it is deserved, if unfortunate…'

She thrummed gently and leaned toward him, and he returned the gesture as he pressed the side of his forehead to hers.

'We should keep an eye on him, though,' she murmured. 'He's made good progress, and Telsa's done her share of bragging.'