Chapter 11: The Adventure Continues

The days on the road began to blur together. Walking through the unchanging forest, hiding in the bushes whenever Sparx alerted them to oncoming threats, eating whatever scraps he managed to scrounge up for them. Day after day after day.

One would think being on the run for their lives with the oddest party imaginable would have been a bit more exciting. But Spyro and Cynder often found themselves bored as they watched the light drain from one end of the sky to the other.

Their strange new friend kept her distance, floating along behind them and retreating to the shadows when it was time to make camp. So even a ghost's presence couldn't make things interesting.

But with each day that slowly ambled by, something was changing. The smoke of the soldiers' fires no longer chased them deeper into the woods, the rogue battalions one step behind every twig they snapped and pawprint left in the dirt no longer showing their armoured faces.

And one day, there wasn't any sign of them at all.

"A campfire?" Sparx asked incredulously. He looked like he was about to fall out of the air. "Nope. No way. You wanna put a target right on us?"

"C'mon..." Cynder whined, pressing forward in her chair as it continued to roll along the grass of this unusually open clearing. A refreshing change. "We haven't seen any sign of the soldiers in days. And I think it would really liven us up!"

Sparx actually did drop this time, his fluttering wings slowing as he whipped around. "Li– we're trying not to die! The best way to 'liven us up' is to stay alive!"

Cynder frowned pointedly at him, but Spyro, who had been unusually quiet these past few days, cut in. "Actually, I think she's right. It can't hurt if we're careful." Muttering under his breath, he added, "And it would be nice to not eat raw meat for once..."

"Well excuse you, mister ingrate! I spend hours hunting your dinner every night so you big fat dragons don't starve to death..."

"I-I really appreciate it, but it would just be nice to have it cooked for once!"

"And attract every soldier in the entire bloody forest!"

As the two bickered, Cynder hid her smile. Spyro had been so quiet and unlike himself, just one paw in front of the other. And even the loudmouthed dragonfly hadn't said more than two words lately. An exhaustion she knew well, but she'd been trying to keep their spirits up. It was nice to see them a little more lively again.

This was meant to be a fun adventure just for her, after all...

As they passed back beneath the never-ending canopy of the forest, something drew her attention to the towering trees behind. Two blue eyes piercing the darkness, a pink form little more than ethereal mist.

She seemed stronger beneath the moons' magic. At night, if one didn't look closely, they might just see a normal dragon. During the day she trailed silently behind, her shimmering, barely visible form easy to forget. But always watching.

Cynder glanced at the boys, still arguing over the logistics of campfire smoke, then began to slow until they were just far ahead enough to miss her lowered voice.

Ember continued floating forward at the same steady pace, but those glowing eyes had locked on her the second she fell out of line. For a moment the two just stared at each other as they moved along side by side.

Eyes tracing down the curve of Ember's young face, Cynder found that she didn't recognize it. Well – of course she didn't. They'd never met. But she must have seen her before, right? Caught a glimpse of her at that celebration what seemed a lifetime ago?

She wasn't even supposed to be there – her parents never took her to events like that. She'd had to beg for weeks to even get them to agree to drop her – under a small battalion of servants' supervision – on the outer market square and order her to stay there.

Even then it'd been more crowded than she liked, and she couldn't see much of any of the main party. But the fireworks that poured colours and stars into the sky, the rising cheer of the city singing together as the procession made their way into the night, that had made it worth it.

And maybe – she couldn't quite remember, she hadn't been sure – but just maybe she had seen a flash of pink scales catching a final blue explosion's light. Swallowed by the crowd. Gone forever.

Perhaps they'd passed each other by. But they'd never met.

Ember matched her probing stare and seemed to reach the same conclusion. Her sharp voice broke the silence. "What?"

Cynder jumped, realizing she was gawking. Putting on a smile, she gestured ahead to the others. "Why don't you walk with us?" She immediately realized Ember was floating and had to bite her tongue.

The answer was curt. "I'm fine where I am."

Though a bit taken aback, she managed to recover before her expression could fall. "Well... That's okay too. I just thought I would ask." Quickly picking up speed again, she rolled on ahead. "Since you're part of the group now, it'd be nice to talk to you... If you want to."

With nothing else to say and only silence in response, she began to catch up with Spyro and Sparx.

But Ember's voice called after her. "I met your mother."

Stunned, Cynder stopped where she was, the clanking of her failing wheelchair falling suddenly silent. "Oh," she said. There was little other response she could give to that.

It explained the look on her face when they first met... The look of someone meeting only half a stranger.

"A long time ago, when I was very small," Ember continued, Cynder picking up pace with her as she floated on. "Before she gave that necklace to you, I suppose. I didn't know the Shadowfalls..."

She trailed off, but she didn't need to finish that sentence; Cynder had heard it so very many times before. No one seems to, she thought. It didn't occur to her until now to be bothered by that.

Ember looked ahead at Spyro's robed back plodding steadily along. The silver chain was just visible around his neck. "Why does he have one? Is he your brother?"

At this notion, Cynder couldn't help but giggle. Spyro and her looked absolutely nothing alike. His curved golden horns against her straight ivory ones, the slender physique inherited from her mother that he entirely lacked... Even with black scales, he'd look nothing like Father.

"No," she answered, her smile fading. "I... I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

As if sensing he was being talked about, the dragon himself glanced over his shoulder and realized something was missing. "Cynder?" he called back, attracting Sparx's attention as well.

"Right behind you!" she answered with a cheerful wave. Spyro lingered a moment then shrugged, forging ahead on the path again.

Ember eyed her but said nothing as Cynder turned back. "If it's alright," she stumbled into her words, offering up a genuine smile, "maybe I could walk with you?"

For a moment Ember cast her gaze into the forest's darkness, and Cynder thought she might turn her down again. There was only so much she could do... But as much as she wanted to know more about this mysterious dragon who rarely spoke and never smiled, she wouldn't push.

"Well." Ember spoke up, her gaze not moving. "Whatever makes you happy."

Cynder was so surprised that she had to stop it from showing, not that Ember would notice since she was pointedly avoiding her gaze. That response was lukewarm at best, but real warmth filled her chest.

The ghost cast a glance her way. "...But that might be a bit hard for both of us."

Cynder looked down at her chair and the good four feet between Ember and the ground and laughed. Though she wouldn't meet her eyes, a smile fainter than her incorporeal form crossed her face. However small, a real smile.

Watching this exchange from his place at the front, Sparx rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

"Sparx, I'm not sure about this..."

The dragonfly shushed her, waving his arm in her direction. "Just use that shadow cloaky magic stuff. You'll be fine."

Spyro glanced warily up at Cynder, perched precariously above them on the slender branch of a tree. She'd let her cloak of shadows wither, so he could see her uncertain expression through the holes in the veil.

Sparx had finally gotten tired of feeding them, and the little scraps he could actually carry back weren't doing the best job at keeping them strong either. So tonight he'd dragged Spyro and Cynder out into the woods to finally hunt their own dinner.

The issue was that Cynder's "deathtrap of a chair" as Sparx put it was getting more and more unhinged every day, and the rattling would drive off every creature in the region. But he didn't want anyone missing out on this lesson, so Spyro had helped Cynder limp far enough to levitate herself into a tree.

It was more like using telekinesis on herself, but just pushing herself around all day took its clear toll, so she already looked exhausted.

Ember had taken one look at the party heading out, rolled her eyes, and settled down in the clearing they'd chosen to stay in tonight. She was probably enjoying the peace and quiet right now.

"Maybe she's righ– " Spyro began. Sparx pressed a golden finger to his maw, silencing him.

"First rule of hunting," he said in a hushed voice, the edged glare sharp as a blade shutting Spyro up instantly. "Be quiet."

When Spyro meekly obeyed, he returned to the tree he'd been peeking around, leaving the purple dragon to shift awkwardly in his poor excuse for a hiding place.

"Okay, sure, let's leave the poor little dragon behind because it'd be easier," Sparx continued in a whispered rant. "Then when you run off into the forest chasing ghosts in the middle of the night and get yourself killed, she can just slowly starve to death instead."

Spyro opened his mouth, but he had no rebuttal. The tree branch above was silent.

"Second rule of hunting." Sparx gestured to Spyro and he crept up beside him to peer warily around the tree.

There, in the tiniest break in the canopy where the final rays of sunlight crept in, stood a creature majestic and strange. Not quite as tall as a full-grown dragon, its rich brown fur was marbled with white and a crown of jagged horns sat upon its head.

The dragonfly smiled. "...Be patient, and your food will come to you."

"What is that?" Spyro breathed in wonder. It was too beautiful to kill.

Sparx gave him a look. "Geez, here I thought this was a delicacy for dragons... Overeaten to near extinction I heard." Spyro stared and he rolled his eyes. "It's a deer. Very fast, very skittish, very docile. Easy kill if you're stealthy enough. Have at it."

"You're not going to help?" the shadowy branch cried in a whisper just too loud.

Spyro cringed and Sparx rushed to shush her, but the deer only continued obliviously nipping at the grass.

"It's your hunt. Make a plan and see what happens." Sparx leaned back lazily against the tree, crossing his arms behind his head. "I'll critique you or whatever. Have fun."

Spyro and Cynder exchanged worried glances. Spyro had handled meat before, but he'd never in his life had to hunt it down. As for Cynder...

"If you can drag it over here, I can try to finish it off," she suggested. Pausing, she considered a moment then reached out her paw. "Here, let me try..."

Spyro felt himself enveloped in the cooling mist of her aura, the world around him now a shadowy haze. Looking down at himself, he found his scales radiating darkness, a cloak of shadows to match her own.

"Alright. I'll try to sneak up on that thing..."

Crouching down, he weaved his way into the forest, skirting between shadows and dashing silently between trees. He thought he was doing a pretty good job despite the amused look on Sparx's face.

Cynder was quick to lose sight of him; even from her vantage point, all she could see was a few glimpses of the deer between tall trunks.

Meanwhile, Spyro managed to creep closer and closer to the break in the woods where the deer stood grazing unaware. Sparx followed at a distance, dimming his golden light to keep an eye on him.

Finally he reached the tree line, just a few short bounds away. As he stood there analyzing the situation, the distance, the likelihood of actually pulling this off, Sparx motioned in the corner of his eye for him to get going.

Now or never. Take the deer down, drag it in range of Cynder. Two-step process; easiest thing in the world. Maybe he was getting the hang of this hunting stuff. With one bound, he rushed into the glade.

Crack.

The snap of the twig beneath his paws seemed to resound like a crack of lightning through the entire forest. Spyro found himself skidding to a stop as the deer Sparx had called docile jerked its head up, instantly craning it nearly entirely around to turn its eyes upon him.

Staring into those formless, white glowing voids, he couldn't seem to move a single muscle. They were empty, lacking any sort of pupil or iris, and yet they seemed to be staring right at him. Sizing him up like he was the prey.

"Sparx..." The soft whine escaped his mouth before he could stop it as the deer unhinged its jaw to bare yellowish teeth.

Sparx peered past him, his eyes widening. "Oh no. It's a – "

Before he could say what it was, the creature burst forward, tearing through the trees and sending leaves flying. Its teeth weren't particularly sharp and its slender hooves didn't look right for trampling, but Spyro didn't particularly care as the beast came barreling at him with unnatural speed and murderous intent. He turned around and bolted.

"Run!" he heard Sparx shout behind him. "Wait – don't run, you won't be able to – no, actually, yeah, run!"

"Sparx!" That was all Spyro had time to scream back before something slammed into his side, sending him flying into a tree. It rattled, spilling leaves and a shower of confused insects on him.

His mind was screaming for him to get up, get moving, run, but his body struggled to even gasp in a breath. By the time he even managed to roll over onto his back, the deer was looming above him – when did it get that big? – its glowing eyes widened as it lifted a hoof above his head.

Three things happened at once. Spyro felt the maw of darkness within his elemental core shift and open, devouring the energy before him and extinguishing its glowing eyes. A spear of pure darkness shot from somewhere above, piercing the deer's heart and stopping about two inches from his own chest. And a glowing light streaked out of the forest, embedding something sharp into the deer's skull.

Having been thoroughly slaughtered by all this, the creature froze and then collapsed to the ground, the elemental spear melting and leaving blood to spill on the grass.

Spyro shakily sat up before promptly collapsing again. Sparx too sagged a bit, and Cynder with some difficulty floated herself back to the ground.

"What... was that thing?" she asked between heavy breaths.

"Well." Sparx picked himself back up, sheathing his spear. It was hard to tell on that tiny face, but he looked like he'd just lost several years of his life. "It was a deer, but not a normal one. Some creatures are like that out here, you think they're alright and then suddenly they're the ones hunting you."

"But..." Spyro remembered the trails of white behind its hooves, its glowing eyes, how quickly it'd caught up with him when he looked away for one second. That didn't make sense. It almost seemed like...

Before he could ask, his vision was filled with gold and his ears with angry buzzing. "Don't ever do that again." Sparx poked his scaly snout hard enough to make him wince and clutch his nose.

"I-I didn't do any – " he began to protest. It wasn't like he knew this thing was going to turn into a monster!

In the next instant, Sparx was all cheer again, fluttering over to examine the now normal-looking corpse. "Welp! Let's get this back to camp. I'm starving."

~~...~~

"This is a terrible idea."

Spyro smiled at the dragonfly from across the pleasantly crackling wall of flame, where their scrappily chopped up deer meat sat roasting over a makeshift bed of twigs. "C'mon, Sparx, lighten up."

Cynder, in a much better mood at the prospect of a hot meal, began to giggle until Spyro got the joke too. They both collapsed into snickers as Sparx slapped a hand to his face. "Why did I agree to come with you idiots..."

Gingerly, Spyro plucked at the hot slabs of meat until they rolled over. "I know you're looking forward to eating something actually cooked as much as I am."

"Not worth it! And I've been surviving just fine without." Despite his words, the dragonfly was eyeing the sizzling meat.

He'd insisted they dig a pit to somewhat block the smoke, which made cooking with their limited tools easier anyway. Sighing, Sparx resigned himself to the ground to watch the meat blacken. "If this gets us killed, don't blame me."

They could all agree to that. For the first time in weeks, the three of them indulged in a good meal. The rich savouriness of the meat exotic to Warfang-born dragons was unlike anything they'd ever tasted. They could all see why it'd been hunted to near extinction.

Even Sparx was in high spirits as they sleepily settled down around the warm fire. For once they were all relaxed, not pacing around watching warily the shadows, arranging leaves to cover up their hiding spot, listening intently for the tune of the forest to change so they could take off into the night.

It wasn't much. Just a little thing, a tiny pleasant experience. But Cynder was smiling again, Sparx glowed as brightly as the fire, and Spyro felt his mood lift for the first time since he'd stepped foot outside the walls. And it mattered.

They weren't the only ones. Pink scales caught his eye; Ember was pressing closer than usual, the fire shining on her face and dancing in her eyes almost making her look corporeal. She looked away from his curious gaze, but she didn't shuffle back into the concealing darkness. She was here to stay.

It was easy to forget her, and so he had. Preferable to her trying to kill him... But looking at her, the lonely longing in her soul that shone as clearly as the bright moonlight falling down above, he wondered.

By the time Cynder and Sparx had fallen asleep and the fire was little more than red-hot embers, she had receded again. Spyro rose and walked into the forest. Not far, not even far enough to lose sight of the black dragon resting peacefully with her face buried in the grass. Just far enough.

Ember seemed to materialize before him as he stopped beneath the shadows, hovering in the air a moment before resting on the ground. "Sneaking off to pick up more ghosts again?"

Spyro snorted. "Not quite."

The two of them stared at each other, Spyro hanging onto his words as he eyed her warily. The last time they'd spoken, she'd been threatening him, with what he wasn't entirely sure. It wasn't easy.

But Ember, it seemed, was a patient person. That probably came with being dead. Nothing left to do but wait.

He found himself examining her, though her details were fuzzy and hard to catch, a sheen around her that made it seem like he was looking through her. Staring at her surfaced the echo of a memory in his mind, but when he tried to latch on, it faded.

"I guess I was wondering... What exactly made you want to follow us?" Ember considered this a few moments too long. Did she herself even know why? "I suppose... a ghost must get lonely, right? Is that why?"

Whatever train of thought she'd been having was broken as she gave him a flat stare. "I could choose better company. And I haven't been dead that long." She reflected a moment longer, but seemed to decide there was no harm in telling him. "I'm looking for someone, a few people in fact. I think you can lead me to them."

"What makes you think that?" Spyro asked, tilting his head in confusion. "Unless you're looking for a random orphan from Warfang, I don't know much of anyone."

She eyed him – eyed his scales more like. He recognized that look on her face, taking in his differences, his wrongs. "Just a hunch."

Come to think of it, he may have an idea who she was looking for.

Reminded of that, curiosity burned within him again. It was a far too personal question, as personal as it got with a spirit, but...

"What..." A young fire dragon alone in the forest, the torture beneath forced emptiness in her eyes, the knowledge that she had been killed by 'his kind'. But why? "What happened to you?"

Ember had risen to return to the camp, but she stopped, hovering there with her pale pink light mixed with moon-shine. The piercing blue gaze over her shoulder made him regret asking. "You wouldn't like the answer."

She prepared to leave him there standing frozen in the clearing, and he probably deserved it, probing and poking at a past she likely never wanted to speak of again. But she paused again, her gaze ahead.

"My father told me to never trust strangers, that they would hurt me. And he was right." She glanced back at Spyro, standing moonlit between mossy trees and vines. "But you guys aren't so bad."

By the time she broke through the trees, she was invisible again, little more than a pale specter in the light. As Spyro chased her shadow, he felt a little better.

They all had their reasons for coming here. They all were searching for something. Cynder for hope, Sparx for companionship, Ember for a person, and Spyro, perhaps, for answers.

But at the heart of all these wishes, they were looking for adventure. Maybe, out here in this haven beyond the walls, they could find it.

With the soldiers left behind and even the memory of their lingering terror beginning to fade, things began to look brighter. The forest never broke but for its breath of light by the river and a few tiny clearings they scraped out into a sleepable space at night, but it wasn't truly the unending sameness they'd thought.

Sparx was used to it all by now, so he always led the way, eyes locked straight ahead and rarely distracted by small frivolities. But for Spyro, Cynder, and even Ember, there were always more curiosities to discover.

"It's a forest flicker," Sparx sighed, crossing his arms as they stopped yet again by the bank of the river. "Nothing to get excited about. They're everywhere."

"But it's so cute!" Cynder cried, hastily unlocking the bar on her chair and sliding onto her stomach before the tiny creature. It regarded her as she approached, but it was impossible to tell its mood from its two little beady eyes.

Spyro had to admit, the green and yellow-streaked bug with two fat wings standing on its squat back was pretty cute. Besides the fireflies, there hadn't been much of any insects at all in Warfang. Aiko had kept every cranny in the orphanage scrubbed down, but he had seen some black things peering out of the other houses in the lower districts.

Ember too seemed interested. She'd been sticking closer these days, her and Cynder often going along together, but she now floated closer with her barely visible form to examine the creature. Odd she'd never seen one before if she lived in the forest...

Sparx's voice distracted him from his thoughts. "Hey, don't – "

Cynder yelped and dropped the bug as gold lightning crackled into her paw. It gave a startled jump into the air and then hastily flicked itself into the underbrush. Anidas, resting in his wooden pond, looked like he was sorry.

Sitting up, Cynder fanned her wounded paw and gave it a wide-eyed stare. "It shocked me..."

"They do that," Sparx answered. "Maybe don't pick up random things you don't know what are?"

Electricity... Spyro piped up, peering into the grass where the flicker still slightly stirred its blades. "How is it using dragon magic?"

"Dragon...?" Sparx stared at him.

But surely he'd noticed too. Thinking back, that snake that had faded into shadows, the deer with glowing white eyes that had somehow caught up to Spyro when he took his eyes off it for one moment...

"Electricity magic," he clarified. "Like a dragon. There have been others too, wind, shadow..."

Sparx gaped a moment longer before his face screwed up. "Oh. Oh." He choked, his wings failing him and forcing him to find the nearest tree to lean on as his form shuddered. "You... you think you own the stuff, don't you..."

The dragons could only stare in bemused silence as Sparx collapsed with raucous laughter. When he finally managed to recover, he was wiping his eyes and struggling to speak between giggles. "You dragons, gods above..."

"What's so funny?" Spyro demanded.

The dragonfly managed to slightly compose himself. "Magic is for everyone. Moles, cheetahs, apes, even the forest creatures. Probably even me!" A wobbling smirk overtook him despite his best attempts to hold back. "In fact, you dragons have it worse than anyone since you can only use one element. No better than a little forest flicker."

"I had no idea..." Cynder mused, watching the grass where the bug had disappeared. "I always thought dragons were the only magical creatures."

Spyro cut in, scowling. "Another thing they lied to us about. What's new?"

For a moment she looked troubled, but her expression quickly brightened again. "Well, I'm glad I could be here to learn all these new things."

Despite his anger, he found his own frown clearing up. School really hadn't been worth his time. It made him angry how they lied, not just about the existence of the outside world, but the smallest things. Like magic belonging to dragons alone.

How many things was he taking for granted that weren't even true...? Did the Bleeding Keep even exist? Was there really a castle in the forest? Were shades not made by Malefor – was Malefor real at all? Was anyone he knew who they said they were?

If nothing else, Cynder was real. Her wonder at this world was real. And they could explore it together.

Somehow, he managed to smile weakly back. "Me too."

No day in the forest was precisely the same as the last. They walked and walked and walked, until Spyro felt like his legs would fall off or Cynder's pained expression was too much to go on. Sparx spent most nights by the campfire rubbing the joints around his wings.

Some days stretched on until it seemed they would never end, the sun would never touch the horizon they couldn't see and let them lay down to rest. But even on such days, there was always something new, however small.

A cute forest creature watching them from the shadows, approaching tentatively when Cynder held out a paw. A strange plant, the field of unassuming flowers that burst into light the moment the moons gazed upon them, the singing leaves that struck a chime when touched or brushed by wind.

Even just a pleasant conversation that sometimes managed to draw in the reclusive other two. Ember's smile when Cynder picked up an angry purple river crab that wouldn't let go of her claw. A day where it rained just enough to take the edge off the summer heat. The sky a shade of blue Spyro had never thought about before.

Always, some snapshot of something.

For a little while, they were beginning to feel less like fugitives running for their lives, and more like the happy adventure Cynder had wanted. And as skeptic as Spyro remained about the existence of civilization out here, maybe there was something beyond the walls. Even if it was only them. Only this.

It was one of those pleasant days weeks after they'd set out. Not hot enough to be painful, the heavy vine-strewn canopy providing enough cover from the raging sun. A forest this big had to have its own biomes, and they'd passed from mostly clear, grassy woodland into burnt umber bark and hanging vines.

It was harder to maneuver here, more rocks and bits of brush sticking up out of the ground like fingers grabbing their ankles. Maybe that's why, why suddenly Spyro heard a snap from behind him and Cynder's cry.

Spinning around, he took in the situation and let out a sigh of relief. She was fine, though her wheelchair was another matter. The left wheel still clung somehow to the frame, but something had broken, leaving the body tilted and leaning dangerously forward. Water spilled down its front, the frog glaring disdainfully at Cynder like it was her fault.

Alerted by the noise, Sparx stopped and gave the contraption a once-over. Noticing something shiny in the grass, he lugged a piece of metal – snapped somehow entirely off – up towards Cynder. "This thing's on its last wheels."

Cynder took it, staring worriedly at the silver bar. "At this rate..." She shoved it into one of her bags. "Will we even make it?"

Lifting his head, Sparx looked around the forest as if he could pinpoint their location on a map. "We should be almost there. Just a few more days." Cynder still looked concerned. "Hey, we can always carry you the rest of the way! And by we I mean Spyro."

Spyro stared at Cynder. She was petite even for a fourteen-year-old, but he didn't know about all that. Even Emera had been getting too big to ride around on his back...

Seeing the look on his face, Cynder was quick to interject. "Th-that won't be necessary! I can cope for a few more days."

Sparx smirked, turning back to the road. "Well. Not long now."

Not long. The first outland settlement Spyro and Cynder would see, their first real glimpse of a world outside the walls. They shared a look of apprehension. Spyro would believe it when he saw it.

Without a map, Sparx was going the way by heart. But he had a top-notch compass in his head, so he claimed, and soon he said that they would reach Runner's Respite that day or the next.

"They may be a bit surprised to see you," he told Spyro. "Even outside Warfang, Channelers aren't that common. But don't worry, they won't try to kill you or anything. Probably." Pausing, he glanced back. "Have you even met another Channeler before?"

Spyro's stony gaze stayed fixed to the ground. "One."

There was that lingering glance again. But Sparx never pushed, either because he had enough of his own secrets to understand, or just because he didn't care.

On they went until the sun had lowered beneath the leaves and it looked like they wouldn't reach safety until tomorrow. It certainly didn't feel like they were about to enter a town, but Spyro supposed that was the point. It was meant to be a secret haven for runaways after all. They might not even see it until they walked right into it.

A twig snapped to their right, but Spyro ignored it. Plenty of creatures running around the woods, never anything worth paying attention to.

As always, Sparx froze, head swivelling towards the source of the sound. This time, Cynder's clanking chair, barely holding itself together at this point, was forced to come to a stop as the dragonfly didn't move on.

Spyro stared at Sparx, hovering totally still – a paradox against the beating wings that didn't even seem to affect his body – then followed his gaze into the forest. It was late evening, so the shadows were deep between the thick trees.

"Cynder. Behind me." Sparx's low voice broke the stillness, and Spyro knew instantly that something was wrong.

With a fearful look into the staring darkness, Cynder stuffed Anidas in a bag and struggled to maneuver herself beside Spyro, but the sound of metallic clanking didn't stop when she did. It was coming from the forest, moving closer every second.

Armour. Guards.

Sparx coolly unsheathed a spear, pricking his finger to test the sharpness, and fluttered out of the way as the guards burst through the trees and began to surround them. Spyro couldn't count them – they didn't all fit in his sight; they were blocked by the row of trees all around – twenty, thirty, more?

More than he could take. Even all four of them.

Ember hovered protectively over Cynder, her form glimmering fire as she glared hell at the dragons around them, but they didn't seem to notice her this time.

A soldier stepped out from the line, a large female with golden armour even shinier than the rest. Spyro recognized her voice – she'd been leading one of the battalions that was hunting them that day they split off the road into the wilderness.

She surveyed Spyro a moment, the scales partially hidden under his robe though his face stood boldly out for all to see. "Your tricks end here, Channeler. Fight and die if you must, but stand down and you may live long enough to meet your friends again."

At a keep, she meant, as a prisoner among stranger-kin. With a tree pressed against his flank, Spyro couldn't back away any farther.

His gaze swept over the guards. Too many – too many – he could jump forward, channel this one, maybe even kill her. But he'd be dead before he could use the stolen powers.

Sparx had slipped into the cover of a tree, his glow just visible behind the backs of those facing them. Even if Sparx made the first move, they'd all be on the Channeler the second anyone showed hostility.

He didn't speak, and the commander's gaze turned to Cynder. "Miss Shadowfall, you are lucky your parents haven't chosen to have you executed alongside this purple dragon. When you return home, you will be in major trouble."

She sounded like she was chastising a little kid, and Cynder bristled with indignity. She hadn't realized how tired she was of being brushed aside like a child until she'd spent weeks with people who actually treated her like an equal.

"I'm not going back," she said in a low voice, raising sharply as shadow materialized around her. "And you won't take Spyro!"

The commander was not impressed by this display, and her sharp laugh made Cynder shrink back. "What has this Channeler done to you? Brainwashed you with thoughts of freedom?"

She gestured to the forest around them, dead silent, forsaken by any other creatures in the wake of her army. "I hope living like a barbarian in the barren wilds was all that you wanted. Now stop wasting my time. Your little adventure is over."

She reached forward as if to grab Cynder's horn and pull her along like a little kid in trouble, but her paw hit a black shield. Behind it, two burning green eyes.

Sighing, the commander stepped back. "The hard way, then. If you must watch us execute your beloved Channeler murderer before your eyes and drag you home in chains, have it your way."

She gestured. The guard that stepped forward Spyro recognized too, though not at first. Not with armour. Not with only one eye, a piece of cloth wrapped between his horns to cover the gaping hole that remained. Not the expression of rage as he stalked slowly forward.

Deep crimson scales. One eye.

Before anyone could react, the adult dragon actually wrapped his claws around Spyro's throat, lifting him up to eye level and slamming him into the tree. "You," he snarled, his breath hot with barely suppressed flames.

Spyro struggled, but the choking grip on him was immovable. Why wasn't Sparx attacking? Had he left them? Or was he waiting for Spyro to engage?

This was too much. He had to release himself. But as he tried to open himself up, to draw in power like he had several times already –

This feeling was familiar. When he'd tried to channel from the robed dragon and it fizzled. Something was wrong, some pieces not fitting into place.

Not again, not now...

"Get away – " A ball of shadow shot towards the dragon, but without even flinching or dropping Spyro, he shielded himself with his wing. Cynder cried out as guards descended on her, and it was all she could do to keep them off.

"You killed him," the fire dragon continued undeterred. "My brother. You took" – with his other paw he scraped at his covered face – "my eye." The one remaining twitched with rage. Bright orange, like his brother's scales.

So Sparx had killed him after all. "I didn't..." Spyro choked out, though the pressure on his throat was getting too tight to force words through.

His vision fogged, swimming in a sea of golden armour, gold, gold – "I didn't." His shaking paw lifted the few inches he could manage, pointing behind the guard's head. "He did."

He had only a moment to process, a moment for the other soldiers' shouts to ring out, before the same blow that killed his brother was delivered to his throat – with not quite the same efficacy. Sparx had charged several yards over the line of soldiers and delivered a shaky stab, but it was enough to make him drop Spyro.

The Channeler gasped in air and squeezed his eyes shut as all hell broke loose around him. By the sounds of screaming and dragons hitting the ground inches away, Sparx was doing work.

"Get up, you idiot!" Sparx's shout forced his eyes open, but the battlefield still blurred at the edges as intense dizziness wracked his head. Shadow blasts flew past him, but the soldiers were closing in on Cynder. She was just one person and she couldn't even run.

And Ember... Spyro searched for her, found one pink wing and then the rest of her.

Ember wasn't fighting. She was floating totally still, her eyes widened, face contorted into an expression that itself managed to shock his blurry thoughts into clarity.

And just as Sparx couldn't hold them off Spyro anymore, just as a soldier shattered the shield and seized Cynder's shoulder, they all stopped as the commander screamed over them all.

"Retreat!"

Many, watching their comrades drop around them, obeyed without question. Others stood like confused children next to Spyro or Cynder, their reaching paws held out in question.

"Forget the escapees!" the commander snapped, turning and bolting. "Go! Go!"

The kids watched in utter confusion as the platoon of soldiers retreated, not even bothering to try and grab Cynder on the way out. The fire dragon snarled at Spyro, an action that sent blood burbling out of the wound in his throat, but picked himself up and went with the others.

"Yeah! That's right! You better run!" Sparx yelled after them, waving his spear wildly. The dragons paid him no mind.

Before there was time for any more celebration – or for booking it in the direction of Respite before the guards changed their mind – Ember's voice called their attention back.

"Something's wrong," she whispered.

"Yeah, I'll say." Sparx turned back to them. "Not every day you scare off an entire band of soldiers."

"No." Ember looked around frantically, circling the trees as if desperately searching. "Something is wrong."

They all froze as a snap resounded through the forest. Another. And another. And suddenly, the falling shadows at the tree line were alive.

Sparx's voice cut cold through the air. "Run."

Alive. Shapeless, formless dragons with jagged maws cracked open, without eyes, without hearts.

"Run!"

They tried. Spyro, Cynder, even Ember ran. But they didn't even make it past the circle of trees.

Cynder screamed as her chair gave its last breath and snapped into two pieces, dumping her onto the ground. She skidded through the dirt and leaves until, with a final lurch, she was suddenly stopped by the gargantuan paws of a silently snarling shade.

No... Spyro turned and ran the moment he was alerted to her peril, but he hadn't stopped to wait for her and she'd fallen so far behind. Selfishly he'd left her to die.

Cynder, thrown on her back, was desperately trying to right herself and bring up a shield or anything at all. But it wouldn't be fast enough to stop the lightning-fast crack of its deadly jaws.

Spyro inhaled on instinct, as if he was a normal dragon, as if he could save anyone, as if he would never have gotten them into this situation in the first place. He had nothing to give, no inner fire, no breath of life.

He had nothing else but hope.

His breath as he exhaled was so powerful it nearly blew him away. He had to dig his paws in as torrents of wind burst from his maw, and even then he left several feet of tracks in the dirt. The shade was torn from the forest floor, slamming into two trees it couldn't fit between and evaporating into mist before it hit the ground.

Spyro panted, struggling to draw in a normal breath after that, and felt the magic he hadn't even recognized dissipate from his chest. Cynder was still collapsed on the ground, eyes darting between the shade and him.

"Cynder!" he called, and she managed to wrangle her splayed-out limbs and clamber to her feet. He had to run to reach her before she fell, bursting into his outstretched wings.

No running. Not like this.

Spyro was prepared to fight, even with the last scrap of elemental energy drained on that one attack. Though her mobility was gone, Cynder should still have enough shadow left to take these monsters out. Ember... if those flames she shot at him could be controlled, she could help too. And Sparx...

Sparx was leaving. Spyro watched his glow dart between the trees, getting farther and farther away with every passing second. Running.

"Sparx!" he screamed. Praying he was wrong, that it had to be a mistake. "Sparx!"

But the dragonfly ignored him. And his light disappeared into the fallen night.

He'd... he'd left them here. He'd watched Cynder's chair break, taken in the horde of shades closing in on them, and decided to get out while he still could.

A flare of anger pierced Spyro's shock, but it soon muted to despair as the shades stalked closer. Without Sparx... Without the one person who had likely fought these monsters before, who knew how to fight at all, without their guide to lead them to safety in the city...

They would die here.

Spyro knew now that he and Cynder had been stupid to think they could survive alone out here. Nothing more than stupid kids. By some miracle they'd found someone to guide them, and now that person had left them to die.

Ember fell back beside the two, looking around frantically as her form surged with light. Spyro whipped around to her. "Where did he go?!"

"I don't know!" By the panic in her voice, she wasn't likely a capable fighter. If she could even consciously use her flames at all...

Though it destabilized her, made her more see-through than she already was, she answered his unspoken question by summoning a wave of fire that pushed the encroaching shades back – for a moment.

"Unless you two want to join me in the afterlife," she muttered, voice rising, "get up! Fight!"

Spyro rose on shaking legs, still holding his wing over Cynder as he stepped in front of her. Whatever happened, she was making it out of this alive. They were so close... And he wouldn't let it end like this for her.

They fought, Cynder shooting shadows from the backline, Spyro taking on the smaller dragons physically, Ember summoning what psychic flames she could manage. Some seemed to fly right through them, but others struck true.

The shades didn't seem to have vital systems, nor blood, though something black and airy spilled out of them as Spyro's claws tore chunks from their cold bodies. Some blows seemed to do nothing, others instantly obliterating them into mist.

But there were too many. Fewer than the soldiers perhaps, but they were immune to the sort of underhanded tactics Sparx would have used to take a dragon down in seconds. They didn't bleed out. They didn't get stunned. You just had to hit and hit and hit until they stopped.

They weren't stopping.

If I could kill one – Spyro thought, as his weakening blows seemed to do nothing now. If I could weaken them for Cynder – He bashed his horns into a dragon, but it didn't even pause to recover. They just kept coming. If I can survive –

In another part of his mind, he droned on and on, Don't get hit, don't get hit, don't get hit –

They looked like nothing but wispy dark clouds, like he could stick his paw right through them if he tried. But their claws were deadly sharp.

Spyro seemed to register the blood gushing from his neck before he felt the wound itself tear open, the hide and flesh beneath it shredding and leaving three holes gaping at the sky.

It didn't make any sense, but that's how it felt – blood. Then wound. Then the shade's paw pulling back. All twisted up and out of order in his head.

He wasn't a shade. He stumbled. He got stunned. When monsters loomed over him, he found himself petrified with fear.

As time seemed to stretch out around him, his gaze wandered idly away from the threat. Cynder was staring, reaching out for him, three shades looming over her – drawing closer and closer with each eternal second that passed like slow motion before his eyes.

Hey. Don't get distracted. For some reason, the words wouldn't leave him. And they came out so much calmer and more languid than he meant.

Vaguely he heard shouting. Voices distorted, unrecognizable. Cynder? Ember? Someone else? A shining light, the sun falling from the sky to hover there and scream his name.

Seconds were passing again, whipping by faster than he could process as pain exploded through him once more. Even with his body ripped open and bleeding all over the ground, still his mind was going on. Don't get hit. Don't get hit.

The shade reared back. Its wing lifted. And before he knew it, it all went dark.