The world seemed to fall silent for the Purple Dragon. Memories of what just happened flashed through Spyro's head: the fall, the fear. Yet now he laid motionless on the ground, the friend he had looked for all this time now wrapping her forelegs around him. But as the seconds passed, he realized a burning sensation was starting to build up all over his body, flooding his senses with an immense wave of pain. Though as the feeling washed over him, he started to feel Cynder's chest pressing against his back, seeming to move up and down with the rhythm of her breathing. At first it seemed as a relief to him.
I finally found her, he told himself.
But as more time moved on, a sound ebbed through the air, and the trembling of her breath became evermore audible. The Purple Dragon tried to turn his gaze to Cynder, but pain struck his neck. For a few more seconds, the burning sensation lingered, and only spread with time. In the distance however, faint calls of his name were heard, one coming from the voice of Ember. Cynder immediately tightened her grip on Spyro, almost to the point of exerting more pain on the dragon, and almost froze in that position.
"No… they're coming," Cynder whispered to herself.
Before Spyro could even mutter a word, Cynder pulled herself away from Spyro, and leapt over him. She landed a tail length away from him, and faced the city of Warfang, lowered her head and spread her wings. The Purple Dragon heard a snarl coming from the dragoness; questions began to flood Spyro's mind.
What does she mean? Ember? The Guardians? Why does she look like she's ready to fight something?
The sound of wings flapping in the distance became audible to Spyro, but as it drew closer, a dark purple aura started to emit from Cynder. Who, or what was coming was blocked from Spyro's view, leaving his trust to fall upon the dragoness.
"Spyro!" a voice in the distance called.
At first, who called his name perplexed Spyro, but as the voice lingered in his head, he realized it belonged to Ember. His heart leapt for joy, even with the physical pain tormenting him; the day seemed as if it gave the past two closure.
"Cynder, don't worry; they're friends," Spyro said.
However, it didn't seem like Cynder heard him, unflinching in her stance. The energy radiating off her intensified. Poison dripped from her maw, splashing down on the ground, a faint hiss being the main thing that brought it to Spyro's attention. The Purple Dragon's joy turned to terror.
"Cynder," Spyro muttered. "They're friends; they're not here to hurt us!"
Again it seemed his pleas were for naught, and as the beating of wings drew closer, images of what might come filled his mind. Spyro mustered all the strength he had to move one of his forelegs, with every little effort ending in only a miniscule distance being gained, not enough to reach the dragoness.
He inched closer, his talons nearly within reach, each second seemingly stretching out into many as panic filled him. With one last effort, he reached out for Cynder, only barely grasping her. Immediately Cynder looked over to him, snapping out of her daze, her focus solely on Spyro. Pain surged through Spryo's body, forcing his eyes closed and paralyzing him almost immediately. As the moments went on, he started to drift out of reality, the world seeming to slip away just as Ember seemed to be approaching.
Spyro awoke lying flat on his back and staring up to a stone ceiling, the light of nearby torches illuminating it with an orange light, and the sound of cracking wood making its way to the Purple Dragon's ear. He tried to turn his head, hoping to pinpoint his location, but his neck burned as he gave it the smallest nudge. He swiftly stopped his attempt, electing to use his eyes instead, hoping to find some clue. Spyro found that he was resting in the very room he had decided to rest in a day before.
He looked to the right, showing him a view of the open space beyond the walls, darkness dominating the sky. Spyro started to feel an intense ache in his forelegs, and so turned his gaze to them; his forelegs now were braced by wooden poles. He turned his eyes to the right, catching sight of Ember, standing beside one of the torches. She held a cloth in her hands, water dripping from it, to her talons and into a bowl.
The last few moments before he passed out came back, and Spyro remembered: where was Cynder?
"Ember?" Spyro whispered.
Ember clenched the cloth closer to her chest scales, and quickly turned her attention to Spyro, a sharp gasp escaping her maw. She rushed over to him, placing the cloth gently on his head, pressing it against his spines. Spyro noticed Ember's right foreleg shaking violently, the color of her talons a mesh of red and white, parts of her forelegs covered in red stains.
"Where's Cynder?" Spyro asked.
"I don't know… just stay down and don't move," Ember responded, keeping the wet cloth pressed against Spyro's head.
"What happened?" Spyro asked.
Ember breathed a soft, yet shaky sigh, a noise that immediately caught Spyro's attention. "Well… you leapt off a building."
"I know that part."
"Then I think you might know the rest if you already know about that," the dragoness said, her tone sharpening with each word.
"What are you trying to say?" Spyro asked.
"All right, imagine this, Spyro. You've just met someone who you've been waiting to see and have been looking up to for years, but they're injured, can barely walk, let alone fly, and quite honestly should've been dead. But yet, here they are standing in front of you, talking to you and then they just suddenly throw themselves off one of the tallest walls in the Dragon Realms."
"I was just trying to help—"
Ember pressed the wet cloth harder against Spyro's head, to a point where Spyro almost began to feel the sting of pain creeped across his skull, causing him to hiss in response
"I know who you were trying to help, Spyro."
"Ember, are you saying that it was wrong to try and help Cynder?" Spyro asked.
The dragoness breathed in a deep breath, as if she was contemplating her next words; the Purple Dragon feared they'd be harsher than the last. However, she then eased the pressure off of Spyro's head, letting the pain subside. She looked to Spyro, the torchlight dancing off her pink scales, and after a few moments passed she finally muttered a response.
"No, Spyro; no it wasn't."
Sunlight grazed the Purple Dragon's eyelids, tickling their surface with the soft sensation of heat. The light seemed young and appeared as if the sun had just risen from behind the walls of Warfang, however Spyro's focus was on anything else than the glistening skyline. Spyro's body ached; his bones pleading for something to be done. How he had even managed to sleep was a great mystery to the Purple Dragon.
Maybe Ember gave me some of those herbs last night, he thought, finding that to be the most likely reason.
While pain still surged through his bones, it seemed tame compared to the night before, yet Spyro could only describe it as unbearable. However, even then, it was not the main thing that occupied this mind. Instead, it was an image of Cynder, falling from the Warfang walls. His heart raced faster as he recounted that moment, as if he was there again, reliving the fear.
In all of Spyro's experiences, this single moment stood out among the swarm of memories during the war, and now the Purple Dragon wished for nothing more than to realize the night prior was a nightmare. Wanting nothing more than to get this moment off his mind, Spyro attempted to roll himself onto his paws. Despite the burning feeling, and with a few nudges to the right, he managed to get himself ready to stand. Spyro pressed against the floor with his front paws, raising himself into a sitting position as the casts created an unpleasant screech.
Next he pushed with his hindlegs, finally standing himself up and granting himself a moment to gather his strength. He walked toward the doorway, peeking his head through to see what lay beyond, fortunately finding nothing. Only the sound of Spyro's casts falling to the floor could be heard, giving the impression that he was alone, leaving him free to wander the open room.
He looked to a window overlooking the city, the night sky being overtaken by the sun, colors of pink and gold meeting the walls of the great dragon city. Towers and scaffolding were cast with a golden tint, but from what the young dragon could see, contrary to the days before, the city looked devoid of any creature. It was then that Spyro walked to the door, struggling to pull it open, his foreleg barely giving him the ability to open the wooden object.
The door suddenly opened, not under the young dragon's power but by another dragon: one of the guards outside Spyro's room. Spyro stood there silent, staring up at the dragon before him, barely able to tell what kind of dragon he was under all his armor.
"Prince Spyro, what are you doing awake at this hour?"
"I- I just couldn't bring myself to sleep, so I thought I would walk for a bit," Spyro answered softly.
The dragon guard seemed to ponder what to do, looking off to the side and remaining in that position for a few seconds.
"Very well, you may walk the halls if you wish; would you like an escort?"
"No, I think I'm fine," the young dragon said hastily.
The guard nodded, and let the dragon pass into the halls of the palace. Behind Spyro, the wooden doors slammed shut. As Spyro struggled to look at the door, he saw the guard retake his position to the right of the entrance, appearing still as a statue.
Spyro walked the halls for a length of time that escaped him. While his body ached, his mind would not let him rest as it constantly went over the events of the night before. Images of both him and Cynder falling through the air, the whistling of the wind, the pain he remembered as they slammed into the ground. It was as if he was reliving the moment all over again. Yet, as he got lost in this memory, the pain of each stride he took brought him back to reality.
This cycle of pain, both mental and physical, would continue; seconds would turn to minutes, then to tens of minutes. Through the halls of the palace and down the flights of stairs, his aimless walk left him unaware of his surroundings. But, both a feeling of a cold breeze, and the smell of plantlife filled the air. The Purple Dragon turned his eyes to the green leaves and assortments of colors presented by flowers, the wind blowing across this artificial forest, all kept in shadow from the rising sun.
However, the sound of rustling leaves distracted Spyro, drawing his attention to the direction of the noise. He slowly walked over, curious to see what caused the disturbance, but all he could see at first would be a thick bush. He came to a stop, looking at the assortment of green leaves, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. As Spyro looked, he could see a hint of light blue, a color that seemed out of place for where it was.
The young dragon then lowered his head, seeing if he could look inside the bush from a different angle, but he wasn't expecting what he found. Within the green was the hatchling dragoness from days ago, one who he distinctly remembered coming up to his leg: Anaria. In embarrassment, she tucked in her winds and legs, looking toward the larger Purple Dragon.
"Wait, Anaria? What are you doing here?" Spyro asked.
Instead of a straight answer, Anaria darted out from the bush and past Spyro, looking back toward him with wide eyes.
"Come on!" she exclaimed.
Curious, Spyro looked back to the palace, before limping his way forward to follow the young dragoness. They walked through a gate that was surprisingly left unguarded unlike the rest of the palace, leading to the backstreets of Warfang; the change of scenery was a welcoming sight for Spyro. While the memory of the past night still lingered, both the sensation of hearing the early morning buzz of the city and the constant pleas from Anaria for him to speed up kept him from sinking too far into his thoughts.
While the sun was still early in its rising, the sounds of creatures moving and conversing could be heard over the rooftops of the limestone structures. Soon, different smells became equally as noticeable. However, Spyro was curious.
Why did Anaria come to the palace, and why did she want me to come with her? he thought.
So, he turned his gaze from the rooftops to the young dragon, who was skipping her way across the stone pathways.
"So, Anaria… why exactly did you want me to come along?"
Anaria slowed to a steady stride and turned her gaze to the Purple Dragon.
"I said that I met the purple dragon, and my brother didn't believe me! So, I wanted to prove him wrong!"
Spyro tilted his head to the left a bit, not because of learning she had a brother, but of her goal. Her reward would probably be understood by Sparx, but to Spyro it all seemed... somewhat pointless. However, Spyro was curious about this brother; who was he? What did he look like? Or, what if he was the same age as him? Ember had already proven there were other dragons of Spyro's age, so maybe there were more. As they turned a corner, Spyro was met with a makeshift entrance to a building, the way in on either side having towers of wooden boxes. From within he heard the booming voice of an elder dragoness.
"Flame! Where's the mutton!?" she exclaimed, in an accent much smoother than that of Spyro's or Anaria's.
A dragon's voice answered, in a similar accent to the dragoness, "Not a clue in the realm, Mother!"
"You better not have lost your sister and the mutton! I swear to the Ancestors, Flame!"
As if summoned by his curiosity, a young red and yellow dragon stumbled before Spyro, taking down stacked wooden boxes with him. Frills decorated his jawline and symbols of fire splattered across his scales. Spyro was almost at a loss for words, both for what he just witnessed, and the dragon that lay before him.
"See? I told you I knew the Purple Dragon!" Anaria shouted.
Flame raised himself up, heaving the boxes off his back, and looked at his younger sister.
"Come on, Anaria. I alrea—"
Flame looked directly at Spyro, his jaw visibly dropping, eyes opened wide. Moments later he regained his composure, puffing up his chest with a deep breath.
"Hello, Mister Purple. Pleased to meet you," Flame said suddenly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well… but it's Spyro actually," Spyro said, forcing a smile.
"Oh…"
Anaria stepped forward. "I told you before his name was Spyro!"
"Honestly I only remembered the purple part," Flame whispered to Anaria. "Anyway, welcome to my family's diner, most humble… and rundown luxury this side of the Dragon City. If you wish you can come in, just after I make sure my mother doesn't cook me instead of this mutton."
"Thanks," he replied, though fearing what might wait around the corner.
Anaria looked up to the Purple Dragon. "Come on, I'll show you around!"
As the young dragoness pranced into the entrance, Spyro carefully made his way around the boxes, leaving Flame behind outside. A smell similar to the steak in the palace filled the room, along with other, unfamiliar scents. The sound of chatter and sizzling came from further up ahead, but still, boxes blocked his sight from what the source was.
"Out of the way, dragon coming through!" Flame exclaimed.
He pushed a box with his horns straight past Spyro and around the corner. Spyro stopped, watching as Flame disappeared, only for Anaria to prompt him to come forward with a nod of her head. Finally, he turned the corner, finding Flame next to the box. But, he finally saw the source of all this noise. Bowls of metal bellowed with steam, fires lit closed off sections of the walls, heating something from within. On top of it all, Spyro was almost face to face with Flame and Anaria's mother. After putting the mutton in another metal bowl, their mother looked to Spyro, only raising her right brow.
"One of your friends, children?" she asked.
"Yep, the Purple Dragon is my friend!" Anaria said proudly.
"I can see that," she said with a quick pause. "Flame, get our guest some food and show him to a quiet table…"
Flame's mother scanned Spyro quickly.
"And try to keep him out of sight; I don't think a crowd is something we or our guest need back here."
Spyro saw Flame gesturing with his left wing as he looked toward him, and started walking to a hidden part of the room. The wall was lit by a lanturn, hung above a small table, just large enough so that two might use it. As they approached the table, Spyro looked at the doorway in front of him to the right, an orange light pouring through.
Flame came beside him soon after, blocking his sight from the doorway. Spyro only got a glimpse of what lay on the other side, only the top of a few dragons being visible. But a moment later they were on the other side, out of the light, and right next to the table.
The Purple Dragon was directed to sit on one side, Flame leaving to grab a thin piece of parchment, bringing it back and placing it in front of Spyro. The writing once again seemed alien, confusing Spyro, but he understood that it must be a list of items.
With haste he asked, "Flame, what exactly would you get on here?"
Flame came up next to him and pointed to a line of words. "This right here, my friend. This is the best we have."
"Then I'll get that," Spyro replied.
"An excellent choice," Flame said with a grin.
As Flame departed to tell his mother what Spyro wished, Spyro took a deep breath, exhaling to ease himself into this spot. Then, his thoughts swiftly traveled to another place. They fell upon the night before, they fell upon Cynder, and it left one question on his mind.
Cynder… what's going on?
Like a whisper he heard memories of times before, of when he, Cynder and Sparx were all together. Then, he wondered, he wondered how it all could be different.
Alright, it's been a bit? I already mentioned this in a little update I made, but I've been busy with some stuff, particularly dealing with a lore based youtube channel among other things. But, hopefully I can not just bounce and leave you all with a rather bitter cliffhanger next time I take a break... and hopefully I don't take a year long break again.
Thanks to my beta reader SKdaGamer for sifting through my minefield of grammar mistakes.