Happy Saturday, dragonlets! Who's ready to celebrate the year of the dragon? Then let's get on with the show! :D
You found a disclaimer!
Spyro the Dragon, both the game and all related characters (c) Insomniac. They own the Spyro that's in this story, so nyeh.
Spyro 3: Year of the Dragon, as well as all related characters (c) blah-blah, same copyright.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Year of the Dragon
And so, peace returned to both the Dragon Realms and Avalar. The two worlds, which grew separate for centuries, were now connected through Dragon Shores, which bustled with more business than ever. Dragons moved into Avalar, whether to study in the Tundra or train for war in the Plains, while Avalari came and went as they pleased - in particular, Hunter and Elora, who frequented the Artisans to visit their old friend and hero, Spyro. (Hunter even more so, as he took to the Dragon Speedways in hopes of perfecting his racing technique and eventually beating his young dragon rival.)
Still, the homebodied Elora tried to cut down on trips to the Dragon Realms, fearing a catastrophe in Avalar if she were to leave for more than a few hours, instead encouraging Spyro to visit her instead. Most days, the Artisan obliged, having grown quite fond of the Avalar realms during his short stay and the lengthy visits that followed. This time, however, it had been a bit over a year since the last sign of Ripto, and Spyro wasn't about to let Elora stay home this time.
"PLEEEEEEE~ASE?" Spyro begged, circling the red-headed faun in hopes of trapping her until she agreed. "Come on, it's only for a few days!"
"Spyro, you know I want to," Elora tsked, "but I don't want to leave Avalar alone for that long!"
"Elora, Summer Forest isn't going to explode because you're not babysitting it all day."
"It might! What if one of the Professor's experiments goes wrong? Or something else summons a big, ol' baddie from another part of the world?"
"Hunter's going to be with us; what's the worst that could happen?" Elora didn't seem capable of coming up with an answer, so Spyro hopped up on the Summer Steps to reach her eye-level. "Look, Elora, you know me better than that. I would never do anything to put Avalar in danger. But this only comes around once every twelve years, and I don't want you to miss it." The dragon flashed her one of his usual smirks. "Look, if a baddie turns up, I will PERSONALLY torch him back to the Badlands. Promise."
Elora gave a sigh, flipping her hair from her face before giving Spyro a pout. "You're not going to drop this until I agree to go, are you?"
"Nope."
"...Alright, I guess we're heading to the Dragon Realms. Just promise me that I'll actually get to see you, and you won't spend the whole time hanging out with-" By the time Elora looked up from her nag, Spyro was already gone. "...Hunter and Sparx," she finished with a sigh.
Her friendship with Spyro was FAR from what she thought it would be after such a long year, especially after that first day in Dragon Shores. They visited frequently, but almost always as a trio - Hunter and Spyro were nearly inseparable after a few outings. Elora almost never got to spend one-on-one time with her dragon hero. Not that Spyro seemed to mind, anyway - it seemed, at least at times, that he was still too immature to wrap his head around girls, and seemed to deny on every account that they were any sort of an item.
Still, Elora was a faun of many traits. Surprisingly, hope was one of them. Perhaps the Year of the Dragon ceremony would be her chance to spend some time with her dragon hero.
oo00oo00oo
The Artisans were alight with celebration when Spyro and guests entered the Dragon Realms. Dragons were pouring in from across the Realms, filling the rolling plains with mythical beasts of nearly every shape and size. Sparkling fairies (including Zoe, who stopped by to say hi, having returned to her native home of Lofty Castle to help with the procession) dotted in and out of the dusky sky, dropping off one of the largest batches of eggs in ages.
This was the legendary Year of the Dragon, a massive event that only occurred once every twelve years - or, by dragon standards, once a dragon-age. Normally, the festivities were separate, contained within each of the five Realms. However, in honor of Spyro's take-down of Gnasty Gnorc (which still remained on everyone's mind over two years later), this Year of the Dragon was to be a melting pot, a celebration of dragon unity where all five breeds would come together as one. And, of course, the tradition would begin in the purple dragon's home, the rolling hills of the Artisans.
"So, what exactly's going to happen while we're here?" Elora asked as the trio weaved through dragons and eggs to find a comfortable place to watch the first-night ceremonies, which were about to begin. They eventually settled on a spot by the Stone Hill, where they could lean against the columns and look up at the Elder's Ridge, where the event would take place. Spyro curled up, getting comfy right between his two best friends, and explained:
"See, it's a big celebration of all of the dragons being one dragon-age older. We start by honoring the oldest dragons and go backwards from there. Tonight is kind of like the opener, which we kind of need because the Dragon Realms have only been interacting with each other for about two years now. Anyway, the big part of tonight is celebrating the tenth-ages, who are officially becoming Elders. It's kind of a big deal for dragons. Tomorrow is when the second-ages get assigned their mentors and start their dragon-kata training. Then the third day is for the first-ages, who are finally done being babies and can start learning the basics of being a dragon, like smashing things with their horns and torching things, that kind of stuff.
"Then we get to the fourth day, which is really why everyone's here. That's the night we'll be able to hang out with Zoe. Anyway, all of the fairies from across the Dragon Realms - and probably a bunch of the ones that are in Avalar, too - are going to come into the Artisans, and when you mix together the dragon magic and the fairy magic, it'll be enough to hatch all of the eggs that they've been bringing in from the High Caves."
"Aw, so the Artisans are going to be filled with little baby dragons?" Elora couldn't help but coo.
"Yep," Spyro nodded. "A hundred-and-fifty of 'em. At least, that's the number Delbin gave me. There's a big party, everyone has a great time, and then the new parents get to go home with their hatchlings."
"So what part of the show are you gonna be in, Spyro?" Not knowing Spyro's age or the math behind converting base years to dragon-ages, Hunter couldn't help but ask.
The Artisan went quiet, not sure of how to answer. Were he hatched under normal circumstances, he'd be up on the Elder's Ridge alongside the other first-ages in two days, getting the typical lecture from Nestor and Astor about growing up and preparing for life's journey. But those normal circumstances weren't there. Spyro's twelfth birthday couldn't have been more uneventful. The closest he had to a "first-age ceremony" was two years ago, fighting to free the dragons and stop a power-hungry gnorc. Now he was fifteen, the only dragon in the Realms to rely on base years for his age. Not old enough to fit in with the second-ages, despite being more than skilled enough to start kata-training (a thought which Spyro abhored; going away to school to be lectured by elders, bleugh), and yet far too old and experienced to stand alongside the first-ages who barely knew how to catch fodder.
Luckily, he needed not answer, thanks to a bright red first-age falling from the sky and crashing onto Spyro's back. "SPYRO!"
Reflexes at the ready, Spyro curled into a roll, tumbling down the hill in such a way as to pin his attacker. "Oh, come on, Flame, you've got to try harder than that to sneak up on me."
Flame squirmed, desperate to escape the purple dragon's pin. "Alright, alright, I get it, get off!" he laughed. Spyro obliged, grabbing the young Peacekeeper's paw in his teeth to pull him up before escorting him back to their spot.
"Friend of yours, Spyro?" Elora laughed.
Spyro gave a scoff. "Nope." After a few jabs with Flame's bright yellow horns, though, the Artisan dismissed his statement with a laugh. "Oh, come on, Flavius, I'm joking!"
"Spy, don't call me that!" Flame whined, continuing to prod Spyro with his horns until the purple dragon butted back, locking their horns in a tussle that the young dragonlet quickly lost.
"I'll call you whatever I want, twerp," Spyro laughed. He then turned back to Elora and Hunter. "Guys, this is Flame, my...well, not really my little brother, but close as I'm ever going to get. He's Magnus' kid, my training mentor from the Peacekeepers."
"And I take it these'r your big, fancy not-dragon friends from that Avalar place, Mr. Always-Gotta-Save-The-World?" Flame asked.
"Dragon or not, they're cooler than you," Spyro teased, giving his almost-brother a playful shove. "Yeah, this is Hunter and Elora. Not that you needed the intro, probably, considering all the stories you've heard."
"Yeah, I know." Flame took a few steps backwards, just enough to step into an opening away from his almost-brother. "I'm just wondering." He gently nudged towards the faun visitor. "I thought you weren't supposed to start bringing mates to Year of the Dragon until third-age!"
Spyro, who couldn't ever help but get touchy when people tried to accuse him and Elora of whatever romantic involvement, dug into the grass and took off after the fleeing Peacekeeper. "Flame, get back here! You can forget all about making it to that first dragon-age now, 'cause you're DONE!" Flame kept up the chase, though, having run from Spyro through the Peacekeeper sands more than enough times to keep up with the Artisan's legendary speed.
Both dragons, however, turned tail and bolted straight back to the columns after a few minutes, ducking and hiding behind them as best they could. "We're not here!" they hissed to Hunter and Elora.
The Avalari were momentarily confused, but quickly understood as a small, pink Dream Weaver pranced up to them, heart necklace swinging as she looked back and forth across the Artisans. "Uh, excuse me?" she asked quietly, recoiling slightly out of shyness. "I-I'm looking for an Artisan. His name is Spyro. He's purple with gold horns and wings, and he's really cute and super-heroic. H-Have you guys seen him?"
Keeping true to their forced word, the Avalari shook their heads, and the Dream Weaver went on her way. Once the coast was clear, Spyro and Flame peeked out of their hiding place. "Ugh, great - I forgot Ember was going to be here," the Artisan groaned.
"Maybe she'll be so busy with Year of the Dragon stuff that she'll forget about looking for you," Flame laughed. He gave his almost-brother an affectionate head-butt. "Hey, I'm gonna go find Magnus before he freaks out that I'm missing and sends you on a one-dragon rescue mission to find me, okay?"
"I've been on enough of those, but go get lost anyway. And don't do anything stupid when it's your turn on stage, okay?"
The red Peacekeeper ran off, allowing Spyro to resume his seat with Hunter and Elora, just as Nestor stepped up to Elder's Ridge and all of the dragons took their seats.
"Dragons and dragonesses, welcome to the Year of the Dragon..."
oo00oo00oo
The first night of the celebration went off without a hitch. There were stunning fireworks after the tenth-ages ascended to Elder ranks, and a night of music kept everyone dancing and having fun until they dropped.
Tomorrow was another day, another mess of preparations, another celebration to be had, another age of dragons to mature. And so, with the dragon eggs safely scattered throughout the Artisans, which were protected by layers and layers of fairy magic that night, everybody laid down for a few hours of much-needed sleep.
While all of the dragons were accustomed to sleeping outdoors, and Hunter had danced himself silly, falling asleep on the spot, Elora found herself to be the only one struggling to get some rest in the new environment. She was used to a bedroom, blankets and pillows and creature comforts. The grass was simply no substitute.
Waking up to take a nervous glance around the Artisans, Sparx noticed Elora still awake in the middle of the night. "Hey, 'Lora, you alright?" he buzzed, being as quiet as he could (while still enunciating enough for a foreigner to understand the tricky tongue of a dragonfly buzz).
Elora turned her squirms into a stretch, trying to play dumb. "Nope," she yawned quietly. "I'm fine. This is good, I'm great." Sparx flew into her face, plenty close enough for her to see the flat look on his face. "...Okay, so I'm kind of cold out here and kind of want a pillow. It's camping, I'm fine."
The dragonfly gave a small buzz, nudging Elora to follow him. He returned to his dragon, who was curled up and dead asleep by Stone Hill. Sparx touched down on Spyro's side for a second, then lifted off - a dragonfly's way of 'pointing' to outsiders. "There, use Spyro. Fire-dragons are warm, and he won't care if you use him for a pillow. I've seen the other dragonlets do it all the time when he has to babysit."
"I won't wake him up?"
"You could kick Spyro in the head and he wouldn't wake up. I know this dragon."
Knowing Sparx well enough to take his word for things, Elora laid back down, using the sleeping dragon as a makeshift pillow. As the dragonfly promised, Spyro exuded heat, like a fire in his chest that would pulse with every breath. And yet, it wasn't a direct heat, not like an open flame. It was a rounder warmth, something more comforting than just a simple heat. It was a sense of calm, a feeling of power and invincibility. Spyro wasn't just warm, but he felt safe, as if nothing could get you if he was in their way.
The faun smiled as she curled back up - maybe not as nice as her bed, but it was a start.
Before falling asleep, though, Elora had to address the obvious as it made home in Spyro's frill. "Sparx, what're you doing up, anyway?"
"Just wanted to check on the eggs," the dragonfly buzzed, golden glow fading as it often did when the duo went to sleep. "I woke up with this weird dragonfly sense tingle, like something bad was happening, but I guess it was nothing. I counted, all of the eggs are still here."
"You're probably just tired and imagining things."
"Probably. What, are bad guys going to climb out of holes in the ground and steal the eggs? As if."
What could possibly go wrong? XD Anyway, thanks for reading, guys! And thanks for the amazing support on the series! :) Make sure to join us next week, when all the really bad stuff happens! Don't miss it!
§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §