Chapter 18: A Broken Soul

Oh, Holy Land,

Come Ancient Spirit,

Take up my hand,

And guide me,

From that moment on, the forest seemed to go on and on forever, which on the one hand was good as it seemed to prove he going deeper into it but on the other hand he had no idea where he was going. He knew it would be risky flying above the treetops to get his bearings and sooner or later the apes would send troops and death hounds to try and comb the woods for him. Perhaps he could hide and wait for Ignitus to catch up? Or wait until dark and then try and escape? But then what? Was heading for the temple still a good idea or should he try and reach Avalar and find the Cheetahs? But then how did he know the rest of Gaul's army wasn't marching on Avalar right now?

Spyro finally stopped, setting himself down on the ground, holding up his broken foreleg close to his chest as he caught his breath. Looking around, he saw only faint rays of light breaking through the thick canopy of the trees which surrounded him. The sounds of the battles in Warfang were barely audible now, more like distant thunder of an approaching storm. But nor could he hear anything of Ignitus, not the sound of his voice or anything to indicate he was nearby. He had to hope he was keeping the Dreadwings at bay or possibly assume the worst. Spyro hobbled over to a tree and sat down, leaning his weight against it as he held his foreleg up painfully. He threw his head back against the tree, half sobbing and half gasping for breath. The peace of his surroundings offered some reprieve, but nothing it seemed could save him from the guilt that bled from his heart.

"What have I done? What am I doing?" he whimpered grievously, "Ignitus, where are you?"

A shriek overhead made him freeze and clamp his mouth as the treetops swayed from the downforce of two sets of wings beating above. Spyro ducked down as the Dreadwings passed by, hardly seeing them through the dense canopy, which had to mean they had not seen him. Their presence here did not bode well. If they were here, where was Ignitus?

"Please, not you too…" Spyro muttered dismally. Even if they hadn't seen him, he couldn't afford to stay in the one place. With an exasperated groan, he pulled himself to his feet and prepared to set off again, but to what end? Was he going to blindly fly around the woods, hoping they would not find him?

With a stumbling run, Spyro hopped up and took flight again, slowly flying barely above the grass as he tried to find some discernible path through the forest. He swerved around the trees and underneath their branches, the grass sweeping by under his feet as he flew over it. The tranquility of the environment was broken up by more Dreadwing shrieks above, Spyro ducking his head down between his shoulders every time he heard it, expecting to see them come crashing through the treetops at him any moment. He hoped his friends were faring better, wondering how they were coping without him. He imagined Cynder quite readily taking over as leader of the trio, something he suspected Ember would resent but be powerless to do anything about. Flame he knew would be fighting to control his nerves, but also would be confident that his friend and hero the purple dragon would soon reunite with them and lead them through all this peril. How he admired the young fire dragon's optimism. How Spyro wished he had some for himself.

Ahead of him, he saw a strong ray of light coming in from the right, the first real break in the trees he had seen for some time. The need for him to try and get some kind of bearing was too great, so cautiously he flew towards it, listening out for danger. He hoped to hear some clue to Ignitus, but the peaceful silence returned as the Dreadwings seemed to have moved on as Spyro banked into the yellow glow glistening through the trees. The sunlight danced in his eyes as he flew into its ray, the cover of the trees thinning out until suddenly he found himself out in the open. Spyro felt immensely vulnerable, but he had to take the chance. He found himself flying into a narrow clearing amongst the trees as the grass beneath him suddenly changed. Stretching along in front of him was a wide trench in the ground, the top of which was mostly covered by thick vines and roots, not allowing an easy view down even though there were a number of gaps in them.

The clearing extended on at least a few hundred feet, forming a roughly egg-shaped gap in the trees with the trench slashing across it like an ugly scar. Spyro paused and hovered in place around the middle of the clearing, gazing up at the clouds for any sign of danger. He listened out and only heard the wind, his mind telling him to hurry so he may get back in the cover of the trees. Taking a breath, he cautiously flew upwards until his head was level with the treetops, scanning every second for any movement.

Looking around, he saw the haze of smoke and fires from Warfang behind him to the left in the distance. Seeing that, he determined he had been traveling in a more or less south-westerly direction right away from the city but had not yet reached the coastline. Hovering a little higher, he saw the great blue expanse of the sea still some way on the horizon over the trees, but it was close. He spun himself around again, looking out for anymore Dreadwings, but saw none. He also saw nothing of Ignitus, who for all he knew was dead or captured, or perhaps he had led the apes away to give him a chance to make a break for it. But whatever the case, flying across the open water would allow him no cover and the clouds were not thick enough to hide him. Spyro was once more trapped between a rock and a hard place.

"I can't stay, I've got to keep moving," he told himself as he dropped down below the trees but remained hovering off the ground. He was still unsure how he should carry forth, not knowing what state his friends were in or that of the Guardians. Ignitus, he hoped, was still somewhere nearby, trying to rendezvous with him if it were possible.

A sound like a whoosh touched his ears, making Spyro look up over his shoulder just as he saw a red fireball screaming towards him. With a frightened yelp, he soared up out of the way as the crimson flame soared by his tail like a comet, exploding in a burst of fed flame that set the grass under him alight. Spyro gasped as he looked back from where it came, seeing the expected source of the fire swooping down from behind the high clouds; the Masked Assassin! The red eyed armored figure glared at him as he dived down towards him, the purple dragon for some reason not diving into the trees like his brain was screaming at him to do. For him there was only one explanation why he was here; why he was not still battling Ignitus and was hunting him now. He had to have defeated Ignitus. He had to have killed him. Spyro's fear-stricken face hardened, his brow darkening as he felt a cold viciousness take over him. His paws opened up as his claws extended, even those of his wounded foreleg he had no prospect of using. But the desire to tear any ape they could reach limb from limb was suddenly intoxicating. He heard the Assassin cackling behind his helmet, coming to a halt hovering just above the clearing as his Dreadwing let out a fearsome scream. The flames below began to spread all around the clearing, reaching the trees as the red fire slithered up their trunks and branches like a poisonousness snake.

"Finally! Tha'time has kum!" he heard the ape exclaim in his irritatingly garbled voice as fiery smoke and sparks began to fill the space between them.

"You!" Spyro snarled viciously.

"Dis will go no ferthur!" the Assassin proclaimed with a sweep of his hand.

"I'm not running anymore! You're dead!" Spyro yelled with a level of hate he had never felt in all his life. His belly and chest were filled with a whirlwind of his remaining mana as he contemplated not the most tactical way to harness it, but the way that would completely and most painfully eviscerate his opponent. The red mist of vengeance had settled on the purple dragon's mind as the fire below reflected in his eyes.

"Attack!" the Assassin bellowed as a pair of Dreadwings appeared by his side, promptly swooping past him towards their prey. Spyro showed his teeth as they soared towards him, a blistering cone of razor-sharp ice picks cast fourth from his maw, shredding the two Dreadwings into ribbons as they quickly fell down into the flames below. The Assassin's Dreadwing shot another red fireball towards him, Spyro dashing to the right as it crashed into the forest behind and spread the red flames further. A curtain of black smoke encircled the clearing which had become a battle arena, blocking out any view of the blue skies that lived just behind it. More high-pitched screams filled the air as more Dreadwings appeared, swooping around through the smoke, trying to surround the enraged purple dragon. Spyro snapped his head to the right as one came at him, a burst of violent flame from him sending it screaming away in agony. He propelled himself to an upward angle as another dived at him, reeling back as it extended its claws at him. A crackling stream of lightning shot from his mouth to its chest, the creature becoming stunned and convulsing in the electric lasso as Spyro spun himself in the air, throwing the bat monster across to the right and into the path of another before releasing the stream, both Dreadwings plummeting into the fire pit below.

He heard an enraged snarl come from the Assassin as it tried to stay above him, sending another red fireball that Spyro readily dodged. He breathed in and cast a fireball of his own towards his nemesis, the Assassin's Dreadwing springing upward to avoid it. Another garbled command sent the creature shooting across to the other side of the clearing, Spyro growling as it repositioned, the two turning to face each other again. The Assassin shouted another command as yet another pair Dreadwing underlings came flying through the smoke, Spyro spinning himself around as he cast a jet of fire from his mouth, keeping the attackers at bay. He shot straight up to avoid another fireball as the Dreadwing pair came around and swept up after him. Without a hitch he backflipped in the air as a scythe of razor-sharp Ice as long as his body magically appeared on his tail spike, Spyro freefalling on his side and throwing himself into a spin, the scythe cutting through the two Dreadwings lower bodies with frightening ease, both falling in separate pieces into the blazing inferno on the ground. The scythe vanished in the blink of an eye as Spyro entered a controlled dive and pulled up to meet the Assassin head on.

He saw the creature's mouth open, waiting for another crimson fireball to come his way when he flew into the full blast of another invisible sonic scream. He cried out but quickly lost his hearing as the monster spun in the air and slapped its massive wing across him, sending him falling towards the flames. He screamed perhaps as loud as he ever had but never heard it as he fell into the inferno, crashing down right on top of the root covered trench, the flames mere feet from him as black smoke filled his lungs. The heat was terrific, Spyro laying on his right side and gasping in horrified silence at the wall of fire surrounding him. He tried to pull himself up, but his right foreleg had been driven like a wedge into a mess of roots and couldn't be pulled free. He yanked and squirmed desperately, looking up at the sky for the finishing blow he knew had to be coming. His ears still ringing and his vision watery from the smoke, he saw the demonic image of the Masked Assassin appear above him, his chest heaving in what he could only imagine was more garbled laughs of victorious satisfaction.

Spyro pulled hard with all his remaining strength to free himself, but the smoke choked him as the flames crept right to the edge of the trench. The ringing became a frightening roar as he began to hear the flames as sound began to return to him at the worst possible time. Through the crackling flames he finally heard the Assassins' voice, yelling something about him being his greatest prize as more Dreadwings hovered around him, watching the trapped purple dragon will savage glee.

"What are you waiting for?!" Spyro yelled out as his voice became horse from the clouds of smoke he was inhaling, burning his lungs as his body felt like it was being roasted. Was that what it was? Were these savages going to let him suffer and then bring his charred carcass to Gaul as a trophy? Terrified at the thought, Spyro desperately tried breathing a cloud of Ice on the flames surrounding him, but he quickly exhausted himself, the wall of fire unbroken. He heard the cretins above him laugh again as he looked up and prepared to scream a foul tirade in the hope they would be offended enough to finish him off.

The cry of a new voice suddenly interrupted the laughter as a crimson silhouette shot through the veil of smoke and collided with the Masked Assassin, the armored ape and his mount sent crashing down out of view as Spyro's blurry eyes recognized Ignitus in the sky. He was alive!

"Ignitus!" he screamed through choking breath, suddenly invigorated to try and free himself again. Ignitus only glanced at him for a moment as the other Dreadwings turned on him. The Fire Guardian hovered above the center of the inferno as he cast his own, engulfing a pair of bat monsters as another came at him from behind. Ignitus spun in the air and whipped his tail across it's face, followed by a devastating swipe of his claws that ripped the ape rider from its seat. Spyro still could not free himself as he struggled to keep himself awake as the smoke seemed to weight him down, his vision becoming blurry by the moment.

"Come on! Come on!" he growled as kept trying to break free, the battle continuing above him. Ignitus seized a Dreadwing in his paws and sank his fangs into its neck, tearing away a mouthful of flesh as he let the screaming monster and rider fall into the inferno. Without pause he turned in the air and cast another torrent of flame on anther Dreadwing that clipped him as it sailed past, knocking him off balance. It was then that Spyro looked up again just as he saw the masked Dreadwing hover into view behind Ignitus as he was distracted. Just as he tried to shout a warning, he watched the creature lunge forward and the Masked Assassin spring from his saddle, clutching a long dagger in his hand.

"Lookout!" Spyro cried as the Assassin landed on the back of Ignitus's neck, seeing pure fear fill his eyes as the Fire Guardian realized what was happening. He thrashed his head around, snapping his jaws as the Assassin clutched him by the left horn , his right hand flailing with the knife as the crimson dragon's struggling threw him off balance. Ignitus spun and thrashed as the Assassin finally drove the dagger at his neck, Spyro screeching in horror as he saw the blade slash under his right cheekbone.

"NO!"

Ignitus let out a gasp of fear as tried swatting his assailant with his forelegs, but the Assassin clung on resiliently as he tried to stab at the top of his skull, but the armored crest of his head deflected the knife blows, even if Spyro watched on in panic. The Assassin finally stumbled as Ignitus thrashed his head around, clutching his horn again as he was thrown around by the desperate dragon. As he threw his head over backwards, the Assassin lost his grip and rolled down his neck, grabbing hold of a neck spine in his left hand, losing his dagger. He grasped another from his belt in a flash and drove it down into the left side of Ignitus's neck, blood spurting fourth. Spyro screamed his name as the Fire Guardian roared and threw his head down as he was stabbed three times more, the Masked Assassin being thrown forward as he kept a hold of the knife. Spyro stared in awe and horror as he watched Ignitus grasp the ape as he fell, trapping his arms and the knife at his sides as he opened his maw and in a crazed moment of fury, summoned fourth a scorching blaze upon the now helpless Assassin. His screams were garbled but gut wrenching as his armored body was burned, the Fire Guardian seemingly unphased by the harm being done to his own paws as he scorched his foe to death. The Assasin's Dreadwing suddenly appeared again, howling out for its master as its mouth opened into the tell-tale red glow.

"Lookout!" Spyro cried, Ignitus cutting off his flame and turning his body just as the red fireball shot forth, striking the Fire Guardian in the chest. In another moment that seemed to slow down just for the sake of his misery, Spyro watched in horror as Ignitus was knocked back out of the air, falling towards him as the charred remains of the Masked Assassin fell from his paws. The purple dragon shut his eyes and looked away as he yelled out in terror as Ignitus came crashing down.

His massive bulk fell just short of him, crashing through the roof of roots and vines as the roots beneath Spyro were caught also, breaking apart as they both fell into the gorge. Falling without control, Spyro cried out as the walls of the gorge rushed past him, his hip striking a root on the way down and spinning him over. He struck another in quick succession as Ignitus fell on his back, his heavy body crashing through roots and earth alike. Spyro landed belly first on a short ledge some way down, the force of the blow kicking what little air remained in his lungs as he blacked out and a great harsh thud filled the trench as Ignitus hit the ground somewhere below. Above ground the blaze continued to grow more furious as it spread out across the forest, several Dreadwings and riders hovered above the place they had seen the two dragons fall, but none daring get too close to the flames they rose up beneath them.

The first sign that Spyro was still alive was the faint gust of air that blew across the dirt beneath his nostrils as he began to stir slowly painfully. He did not open his eyes straight away, lifting his head slightly as he breathed heavily through his mouth, sputtering also in due course of his poor state. He winced as he forced himself to roll on his right side, gingerly tucking his injured foreleg against himself as he did so. As he opened his eyes, he stared up towards the top of the trench some way above, his vision a painful red haze. Clouds of fiery sparks filled the air above it and began to drift slowly down into the trench, brushing against the rocky walls of the gorge that descended a fair distance until it reached the bottom. Though he could hear and see the Dreadwings above, he felt confident they would not try and navigate the flames to get to him. Though his mind was racing with thoughts of the Fire Guardian, his body refused any urgent action, forcing him to slowly take in his surroundings. Jutting out from the walls were numerous glowing gem clusters that offered only sparse light to the dank interior, though now aided by the orange glow of the fires above.

Pull me to shore,

Rivers are rising,

Look in this heart,

And find me,

"Ignitus?" he said coarsely, looking over his shoulder towards the other side of the trench. It was only then he realized how close he was to the edge, barely a few inches from falling off the ledge as second guessed trying to roll over, realizing he would fall. Spyro groaned as he rolled back on his side with intent to stand up, doing so carefully as sucked in several tense breaths. As he rose to his feet, it was only then that he noticed the huge net of roots stretching across both sides of the trench ahead of him… and the numerous large holes across the walls surrounding him.

"Ignitus?" he called again, this time louder, thinking nothing of his curious observations. He peeked down over the ledge he was standing on and immediately gasped as he saw what he had wanted to see but now as he saw it now; Ignitus, lying motionless on the bottom of the gorge, having fallen on his back and rolled onto his right side. Stretching out his injured wings slowly, Spyro leapt from the ledge and glided down hastily to him, the drop being around a hundred feet or so.

"Ignitus!" he cried out, hoping for some sign of life from him. He made the landing groggily, hobbling across the last few steps as he rushed to the Fire Guardian whose eyes were worryingly closed and motionless. Spyro stopped just before his mentor, aghast at the state the crimson dragon was in. Blood was seeping down his neck and the impact of the red fireball had seared the flesh of his chest, scarring it from yellow to a sickening rash of black and pink flesh. It moved though, showing he was still breathing. Panicking, Spyro leapt up on his hindlegs and pressed his paws into the bloodied dagger wounds, hoping to stem the flow.

"Ignitus? Ignitus, come on!" he pleaded, "Come on, get up!" Spyro pressed his paws hard against his neck, hoping the extra pressure would somehow revive him. He tried shoving and shaking him awake, his lack of consciousness eating away at the little hope he had left. He could feel and hear his breathing, but Ignitus would not wake up.

"Come on! Come on, we've got to go!" he said as his voice began to crack. Spyro looked at the state of his own paws as blood began to seep through the toes streak down the back of them. The sight mortified him, gasping in shock as he drew his paws away and turned them to show their pads. A chill filled his body as if he was standing in Dante's freezer, wordlessly staring at his shaking, bloodstained paws. Looking away, he shoved them back against the wound, still trying to stop the bleeding even if he could no longer look at it.

"Ignitus, please…" he whispered, "Please, I need you right now. More than ever…"

A faint groan touched his ears as he felt the great mass of the Fire Guardian twitch if only just. Spyro looked towards his face as his heart began thumping, seeing Ignitus's head move a fraction as the edge of his mouth lifted weakly.

"Spyro…?" he whispered faintly.

"I'm here, Ignitus. I'm here!" Spyro exclaimed with newly found hope, moving away from his bloodied neck and next to his head, staring into his eyes that were struggling to awaken, "Can you here me? It's Spyro, I'm here!"

The single crimson eyelid opened up and revealed the weary orange orb behind it. Spyro gazed at it intently as the eyes focused and locked onto him, Ignitus drawing a sharp breath as he processed the pain he was in.

"Are you alright?" the Guardian asked weakly. The purple dragon was almost stunned by him not asking about himself first as he might have expected. Spyro shook his head in confusion, mumbling gibberish as he tried to find an answer.

"I…I've been better," he finally stuttered, "But you're hurt bad, Ignitus. Really bad…" he said helplessly. Ignitus groaned in agreement, wincing and shaking as he tried to move himself, Spyro continuing with, "I owe you again, Ignitus. You saved me, even if you did almost fall on top of me…" he added, trying to lighten the mood.

"I should be more careful," the Fire Guardian replied with black humor, gasping suddenly as the burns to his chest seem to flare up, sending Spyro into a flurry.

"Ignitus, listen; those things can't get down here because of the fire, but we can't stay here," he said looking up, "We've got to get moving…"

As Spyro looked up, it was then he took a keener interest in their surroundings. He paused as he scanned across the many holes in the walls he had only glimpsed at before. He noted how they were all similar sizes, almost large enough for an adult dragon it crawl through, almost like they had been made that way. As he looked back around, he noticed something about the net of roots stretching across the trench. It turned out it was not just there; they were scattered all over the interior of the trench. Some small and some large. Only they were not roots; they were spiders webs.

Spyro gasped in fear as soon as he realized this, and then he heard a sound that added to his fear. A low clicking sound almost like an instrument rang through the trench and seemed to be coming from everywhere. Spyro turned his head frantically, his eyes darting between every hole that he saw, stepping back slowly towards Ignitus who remained unmoved.

"Spyro…" he said with great difficulty, but then he broke into a hectic panting episode, groaning in pain. The purple dragon spun quickly to him but could offer nothing to help him as the Fire Guardian twitched and shook in pain. Spyro was about to speak when a louder click somewhere further down the trench drew his attention. It became more like a hiss as he looked up towards the hole it seemed to be coming from, above them from near the ledge he had landed on. Through the embers falling from above and the dim light he saw something emerging from the hole, something that glowed with dark purple eyes and spines on its black body. The first two of the six sharp legs of the Spiked Bulb Spider clutched the top of a small rock just outside its lair as its three diamond shaped eyes stared across at him. The creature was more than twice the size of the young dragon, the glowing spines on its body were like spear heads and each one of them poisonousness. Its mandibles beneath its eyes flexed in anticipation to the prey that had just entered its domain.

"Ignitus," Spyro said nervously as he saw more and more glowing eyes appearing from the dozens of burrows in the trench, "We've really got to go!" he said as he rushed back to his side. Ignitus was still breathing heavily, his eyes fluttering as though he had lost control of them.

"What is it?" he asked softly as tried to move his head to look around but stopped when he met Spyro's gaze.

"We've stirred up the hornets' nest! Well, the spider's nest, but you've got to get up!" Spyro replied desperately, the hissing growing louder as more and more spiders began to crawl out from their nests. Looking all around he could see more sets of triple eyes glowing in the dark, surrounding him and the Fire Guardian as he saw two more spiders crawling down the large web stretching across the trench.

"They're everywhere!" Spyro exclaimed as he backed up beside Ignitus.

"Spyro…I…I can't…"

"Yes, you can!" he retorted firmly, "You've got to!" The purple dragon knew his mana was drained and that he could not hope to fight them all of. He knew a few bursts of flame might be all that was needed to send the spiders scurrying back to their nests, but he did not even feel he could muster that. The spiders continued to crawl forward slowly but deliberately, hissing louder as they came. Spyro impulsively charged at the spiders approaching them from behind, growling and slashing his claws, hoping to bluff them. The spiders backed of cautiously, but began crawling forward again almost as quickly, perhaps realizing he could not hope to stop them all.

"Get back!" he roared, running as fast as his broken foreleg would allow in the other direction, snapping and slashing at the spiders coming towards Ignitus. They too backed off, but just as soon started to come back. Spyro stood by Ignitus's mid-section, growling and making random leaps in either direction, trying to keep the spiders back. Very quickly he was panting again, his own aches and exhaustion piling up on him as he strained himself further to protect the Fire Guardian.

"Spyro… Spyro…" he croaked faintly. Looking back at him, Spyro was again left aghast at the sight of him, damning himself for not being able to do more for him. He looked around forlornly as the spiders soon formed a barrier as they grouped together, slowly closing the gap between them and their prey. The creatures' legs made an unsettling clicking sound as they stepped across the rocky floor, mandibles twitching eagerly.

"Save yourself…" Ignitus said painfully, Spyro horrified at the mere notion but did not answer back. He was frantically looking for something, thinking of something, anything that he could do. He started to consider simply fighting the spiders one by one if he had to, hoping that killing enough of them would make the others back away, but he couldn't be sure they would not just wait for him to exhaust himself and devour him like a helpless fly. The blood on his paws had left prints on the ground which drew his eyes downward, and then to something else. Beneath his feet were numerous cracks, some of which showed signs of plant life seeping through. The embers falling from above helped to illuminate them, an idea springing to mind as he saw some the curled end of a thick root.

Shutting his eyes, Spyro drew a deep breath before he reared back like a horse and slammed his right paw onto the ground, at once a huge rumble filled the gorge like a great boulder had fallen, a wave of green magic his own height swept over the ground, startling the nest of spiders that all paused in their advance. Spyro showed his teeth as he kept his eyes closed, showing obvious difficulty as he growled painfully as he focused all that he had left into manipulating the earth. The cracks in the floor opened up, causing him to yell out like he had been struck but he kept going as a mass of roots broke through the surface like a nest of brown snakes. They twisted and turned into a wall that rose up through the floor, forming a spiked barrier between the spiders and himself and Ignitus.

It rose up above Spyro's head as he was now yelling in uncontrolled agony to keep the magic flowing even as it felt like his insides were being shredded. The wall of roots twisted and tightened, leaving gaps barely large enough to fit Spyros's paw through as more roots broke through the wall behind him, entwining with those in front of him to form a cage over him and the Fire Guardian. The spiders had all retreated to their nests by this unnatural growth, though their eyes remained glowing in the dark as the observed. As the last root locked into place, Spyro's eyes shot open as his legs turned soft, causing him to fall flat on his belly as the last of his mana reserves gave out. The cage was thorned and the roots were each thicker than his tail, but given enough time, the spiders would eventually break it down.

Wheezing and gasping, Spyro wanted only to fall asleep right where he was to show some mercy to his weathered body and soul. He was thirsty and hungry and every bone in his body felt like it was ready to fall apart, but he knew he had to get Ignitus out of the here and find the others. He just needed a moment to give himself a chance to recuperate. A moment, one precious, free moment where he only thought about himself.

"Spyro…" Ignitus said for what may have been the dozenth time, he didn't know. The purple dragon lifted his head barely off the ground and pulled himself around with his right foreleg, sliding around like a slug, lacking the strength to get up. Once he was facing Ignitus, he managed to push himself into a sit, saying weakly,

"That should keep them away for a while."

"You shouldn't… waste your mana…" Ignitus remarked sorely. Spyro tilted his head strangely as he heaved more air into his lungs, finally lifting himself to his feet and hobbling over to Ignitus, collapsing on his haunches once more.

"What do you mean? I had to do something to protect you," Spyro replied heavily, dropping his head warily, "Just let me catch my breath… then we'll get you out of here."

"No, Spyro." The frankness of his voice raised alarm in the purple dragon, making his head shoot up straight away as he gazed in bewilderment into the Fire Guardian's eyes.

"What are you talking about? We've got to get out of here; get to the temple and find the others!" the young dragon protested.

Ignitus gave a weak shake of his head, "I can't, Spyro. There is no way for you to get me out of here."

"But I can't leave you here! We…I… You've just got to hang in there! I'll do whatever I have to do to help you, but I can't leave you here!"

"Spyro, please," Ignitus replied sadly, "There is nothing you can do for me. I can barely stay awake… you will only endanger yourself if you stay here," he said through heavy breaths. Spyro's mouth hung open in disbelief, his aching heart tightening as he shuffled closer to him, putting his paws on his cheek as he stared closely into his eye.

"You saved my life again, Ignitus. I can't let that go unrepaid."

"You owe no debt to me, young dragon," he said warmly. "But I need you," Spyro pleaded helplessly, "We all need you! With all that's happened, we'll need a leader to see us through this!"

"Indeed," Ignitus agreed grimly, "But that leader is not who you see here, Spyro. I fear… I fear that my path is at an end..."

"No!" Spyro cried, his eyes beginning to water, "Listen to what you're saying! You can't let it end like this. Not when so many are depending on you!"

"Spyro…" Ignitus groaned, his tone becoming irritable, making the young dragon take his paws off him in shock. The Fire Guardian realized this as his eye looked over apologetically to him. Spyro's face was wide with disbelief, his amethyst eyes glimmering with silver tears as his offers of help and encouragement were rejected. Ignitus inhaled sharply, summoning the strength to lift his chin just off the ground, turning his head to face Spyro with both eyes.

"Your heart is well and truly in the right place, Spyro. But the apes will be here soon to see what has become of us. You cannot be here when they come. You must go on and find the others."

"Please," Spyro whimpered, "You have to come with me. Don't make me do this alone. I can't make it without you…" he said as he dipped his head and began to sob.

"You can," Ignitus said with a gentle nod, "And you must. There is so much at stake, so much that you must do. You cannot risk all that for me."

Spyro lifted his head, his face sullen with tears streaking from his big eyes down the sides of his mouth. Ignitus shushed him delicately, rocking his head slowly that he did not need to cry.

"If this is where my path ends, I accept it freely so you my become the dragon you are destined to be," he said with ever dwindling reserves. Spyro stood up slowly, walking the few steps between them tepidly as he looked into the Fire Guardian's ancient face. He saw an uncanny calmness in his eyes, proving the sincerity of his words. But this factor made it no easier for the purple dragon to accept. Ignitus reached out with his left paw, stretching it out towards Spyro and fondly touching his side as the young dragon struggled to stem the flow of tears from his eyes.

"I always thought you would be there when I did. That it would be because of you," he confessed heartfully. Ignitus smiled faintly as Spyro sat back and placed his right paw on top of that of the Fire Guardian. The purple dragon looked back at him dismally, shaking his head as his eyes closed mournfully, all the losses of the day filling his mind. The flaming image of the Doxantha came back to him like a frightful nightmare.

"I failed them, Ignitus. I failed you. I promised them we would clear the way for them, and I failed. They're gone because of me."

"Spyro, it was a sacrifice they were willing to make, for you and all of Warfang, just as I am willing to make this one for you. Now, you must carry on," Ignitus said, solemnly urging him to leave him, but Spyro instead let out an anguished cry of grief, his eyes springing open into a flood of tears.

"I can't do this! What good has all the sacrifice been if I can't do what I'm supposed to do? Warfang is falling and I can't stop it!"

"You won't win every battle, young dragon," Ignitus told him regretfully, "I know that all too well. I won the battle to save you, but I lost so many others in the process. I could not save Pyra, and you cannot save me. But there is something you can save for me, Spyro." The heartbroken purple dragon gripped Ignitus's paw hard as he tried to blink away his tears, trying to make himself look stouter than he knew he really was.

"What is it, Ignitus?" he asked softly.

"Losing Pyra took out a piece of my heart. He was like a son to me and that pain has never faded. You must survive, Spyro, for all our sakes! Don't let me suffer that again; don't let me lose another son."

At that moment, Spyro wanted to scream louder and harder than he ever had in his life, but somehow, he bottled it in his chest and made not a peep. He kept a straight face as he looked into the Fire Guardian's weary eyes, seeing that they were as desperate as his were. Whatever pride or vindication he might have felt under different circumstances to know Ignitus thought of him as a son was quickly erased by the underlying weight that accompanied his plea. What else could he say though but a wistful,

"Okay."

Ignitus sighed weakly, his eyes droopily dimmed as he fought to keep them open. Spyro dropped down and rushed over to him, nudging him with his snout to keep him awake, fearing it would be the last the saw of him alive. A series of hissing clicks behind him made him look over his shoulder, the spiders which had crawled near to the cage backing away fearfully once they saw his cold expression.

"You must go now…" Ignitus wheezed barely above a whisper, his eyes barely open. Spyro turned back and nudged him again, watching the pool of blood forming around the wounds on his neck horrifically. Ignitus's eyelids opened wide with what strength he had left, staring up into the purple dragon's mournfully and intensely.

"I don't regret a single day I've known you," the Fire Guardian said through stuttering breaths, "But I regret I won't see the new age you will bring about. There is so much you will learn, so much I wish I could have told you…"

"Tell me what?" Spyro cried bewilderedly, "What do you mean?"

"One day you will understand," he replied faintly, "Find your friends and keep them close. Never forget who you are… and follow your heart. It will never fail you…"

Spyro's mind was spinning in a whirlwind of confusion and emotional trauma. What was he saying? That he had kept secrets from him? And telling him this right as it seemed he was going to die? Ignitus had just given him a thread and he was expected to pull it and unravel whatever it came from. Alone. The purple dragon sniffled, bowing his head and pressing his forehead sorrowfully into that of Ignitus. The Fire Guardian gasped lightly as he pulled his left foreleg around, curling his paw around Spyro as he huddled in front of him, pulling him into an embrace as much as he could. Spyro's eyes were tightly shut as he clenched his teeth together, fighting back the urge to curl up into a ball of sadness. For this, his last moment with the dragon who had been a father to him, he would be brave. He just wondered if he would ever be able to be brave again.

"I'll never forget you…" Spyro whispered painfully.

"Nor I you, my friend," Ignitus replied soulfully, his breathing becoming erratic again, "Now go…. go!"

Ignitus pulled his paw away for him as Spyro lifted his head and quickly stood up. He breathed in sharply as he looked into his mentor's eyes a last time. Contrary to every desire he had, he turned to his left and walked over to the edge of the root cage, breathing deeply as tears fell silently down his face. The spiders had kept at a distance as Spyro paused with his nose near touching the roots of the cage. He told himself not to look back; just to look forward. There was no good that would come from looking at Ignitus again before he left him to die.

I've lost my way,

Your voice is silent,

I need you here,

To remind me,

Spyro reached up with his right paw and touched the cage, the roots in front of him flashed green as he did and slithered and unfurled from each other, making a gap for him as the spiders all watched him cautiously, unsure what else he may be capable of. Grimacing, he stepped through the loop he had made, which however little energy it took felt like he had lost most of his weight in the process. As his tail cleared the roots, they tightened and curled around themselves again, leaving Ignitus sealed in the cage and hopefully safe from the Bulb spiders. Spyro looked up at the menacing spiders wed stretching across the trench, the two spiders clinging to it watching him with emotionless glowing eyes. However, even in his obviously weakened state it seemed they were not game to attack him at least while he was looking at them. He snarled at them, making the creatures scurry further up as he hobbled forward. He had no idea where the trench might take him, but he hoped it would at last enough for him to get under the cover of the trees and fly out, assuming the whole forest wasn't alight.

Every step he took and every beat of his heart felt wrong, made him feel like he was committing a betrayal. But it was what Ignitus wanted; for him to go on and save himself… to leave him. As unconscionable as it was, the thought of making it back to his friends pushed him on. For their sake, his sake and for Ignitus, he had to make sure they were safe. As he passed underneath the web, an invisible hand made him turn his head when he knew he shouldn't. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ignitus laying as he had left him, only his head had moved to watch as he went. He heart sank into his stomach as he paused, watching as the spiders far down the trench began to creep forward towards the cage. Spyro glanced around, hoping to see a Spirit gem he may be able to draw strength from, but the only gems he saw were bland, non-magical crystals giving faint shimmers of light. Looking back once more, he locked eyes with Ignitus who stared plainly at him, his mouth rising to breath a single word. Though he didn't hear his voice, Spyro knew what he was saying,

"Go."

With a painful gulp, the purple dragon turned his head forward and pressed on, not letting himself look back as he limped on through the darkened trench. He saw nothing more of the spiders as he trudged on, his soul screaming at the injustice of it all as he stepped over and around rocks and roots that were strewn through the trench. He heard the sound of the spiders hissing and clicking getting fainter behind him, but he never allowed himself another look behind. He did not want to think of what may be happening; of how the cage was perhaps keeping the monsters at bay, granting his mentor a dignified end or that it had failed and he was being set upon by them right now. There was no turning back. There was no saving him. There was no way for Spyro to fill the hole that just been carved out of his soul.

Show me now,

How to find my home,

All I am,

Surrender,

Let the water flow right through this broken soul,

Panting from exhaustion and struggling to see in the dark through his watery eyes, Spyro clawed his way forward as the trench kept going under the canopy of the forest. Clouds of burning embers continued to drift down and the risk of marauding Dreadwings kept him from simply flying upward. That and a macabre sense of self-loathing did not allow him to help himself, just to drag himself through the narrow gorge with the forlorn hope he would live to see if anyone else he cared for was still alive. What did that it matter that he was the purple dragon? It was nothing more than a curse now; a bane that bought death to everyone it seemed but himself; the supposed prophesized savior of the world. He would have given up the mantle right that moment if he thought it would reverse everything that had happened that day. One single word kept cropping up in his mind; why?

Fought by your side,

Ashes still burning,

I proved my worth,

So tell me why?

Through the increasing dark Spyro pushed himself on, the trench narrowing and becoming more cluttered with rocks and roots the further he went. The orange sparks had long vanished behind him as the trench turned into a cave and the open ceiling closed up. Now he was stumbling through almost total darkness with the odd crystal clusters giving some vague sense of direction. He had no idea if he was heading for an eventual dead-end, but the fear of what he may find if he turned back was enough to keep him moving on, no matter how pointless and hopeless it seemed. Spyro wondered about Cynder, Flame and Ember. What would have happened of they had stayed with him, if they had faced the Assassin together? Maybe Ignitus would never have been struck down by the fireball, maybe everything would have changed…

"Ancestors, forgive me… Ignitus forgive me…" Spyro whimpered as he squeezed under a low root, forcing himself through the narrowed passage, the hard rock walls scraping against his weathered body. He could hear nothing now but the sound of his own hobbling steps through the empty cavern, the sound of the flames burning on the surface and the hissing of the spiders or the distant battles in Warfang were all gone except for his mind. It was an unnerving, crushing silence, like Spyro was now a lowly worm digging his way through the earth to avoid the light of his guilt and failure.

In a half growl and half sob, Spyro turned to a cluster of dull grey crystals poking out from the rocks and slammed his head against it, his horns shattering the crystal into a thousand pieces. He lifted his head with a furious snort and shook it violently, throwing off the pieces he had collected in the process. He sat on his haunches and wiped his face with his right paw, as he did so he touched the empty leather strap around his neck that he had entirely forgotten about. In the haze of his anger, he gripped the strap and tore it from his neck, throwing it carelessly at the shattered remains of the gem cluster. He stood up and stormed onward through the dark, ignoring the resulting headache, not caring how much pain he was in. Not caring about anything in the world anymore.

I've lost my way,

Your voice is silent,

I need you here,

To remind me,

The darkness carried on as Spyro trudged onward, wishing for any sign of progress. If he met a dead-end, he would at least know to go back, but it seemed fate would have him sulking in the dark forever, a puppet to its cruel will. He saw more of the crystals and narrowly avoided the temptation to destroy them too, too tired and miserable to exert himself. Just then he bumped straight into something he couldn't see, bringing him to a halt. He snarled in vexation as groped ahead and felt a tangle of roots blocking the way in front of him which his eyes finally adjusted enough for him to vaguely see. He looked up to try and make out the ceiling, unable to tell if it was ten feet high or one hundred through the blackness as the crystals seemed to have all but vanished. Impatiently, he felt the top of the roots, realizing it was barely higher than his head and hopped up, mercifully not banging his head on the ceiling he couldn't see as he pulled himself over the barricade. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he felt a splash of water against his paws and underside, making him pause as he lowered his head and sniffed. He cautiously stuck out his tongue and tasted it, recognizing the taste of sea water.

"Sea water?" he asked himself curiously, "I must be close to the shoreline then."

This news at least told him that his walking through the dark should soon be over, but then opened the door to his next challenge; finding his way to the temple without being spotted. He had not the strength for a fight if he were, perhaps not even the strength to make the flight at all. But Spyro knew he had to try. He moved at a slightly faster pace now, his eyesight tuning to the dark much more finely as his feet plopped through the thin layer of water. The cavern slithered tightly the further he went, the total darkness beginning to seep away as a distant light accompanied the sound of crashing waves. Squeezing through the narrow corridor, Spyro walked towards a glimmer of light he saw casting down ahead of him up to the right, illuminating the narrow passage ahead. The light showed he had much more headspace than he thought, but it was much too tight he imagined for any adult dragon to squeeze through, much less the spiders or Dreadwings. Reaching the light, Spyro turned to the right as the tunnel exit changed to a slim 'V-shaped passage barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, but the light of the sun and the sound of waves was just beyond it. Breathing in, he stretched himself as much as he could to slip through the slit in the rocks, pulling his back feet and tail through as he finally stepped into the open sunlight.

At once a wave crashed ahead and sent water splashing towards him, Spyro gazing outward towards the sun blazing through the open entrance of a dome shaped cave. The interior was wet from the sea, Spyro guessing that the tide would eventually rise and fill most it, thus explain the puddles of water he had travelled through so far back. He walked forward over a floor of slimy rocks covered by moss and loose seaweed bought in by the tide, looking towards the open ocean outside the cave. It was only a short walk before the ground dropped away a short distance to a large open lagoon inside the cave, forming an almost perfect circle inside the cave. The seawater sloshed against the bottom of the lagoon and over the edge of the drop, splashing onto the young dragon as he tried to let his eyes readjust to the light.

Shaking the water from his face, Spyro gazed around the interior, surprised that this little hideaway was unknown to him. It was the sort of place he would have loved to share with his friends, assuming they were still alive. Holding that grim thought, he peeked over the edge towards the foamy water, unable to tell how deep it was, but assuming it wouldn't be too deep as inland caves usually weren't. He looked up again towards the sunlight beaming into the cave, seeing only the clear sky and hearing no signs of danger outside, but he knew he cold not afford any risks. There was no way to walk out of the cave, swimming or flying being his only option. The daunting prospect of trying to fly across the sea now hit him with its full force; Spyro wondering if he even could make it in his physical and emotional state. He considered trying for Avalar again, but as before he had to assume it too would have been attacked by the apes.

As Spyro groaned woefully at his plight, he suddenly felt a great deal more exhausted than he had just a few moments ago. His head began to feel heavy and eyes seemed to fight his will to keep them open. Thinking it was the pain and exhaustion he had been staving off most of the day, Spyro inched closer to the edge as the waves prepared to crash again, thinking another splash of cold seawater would help enliven him for the next life-threatening challenge he was poised to undertake. The wave crashed hard and its crown sprayed over him, but alarm overtook him as his brain seemed to disconnect with his body, Spyro feeling his legs crumple under his weight. He could only gasp as his paws slipped and he fell forward, staring fearfully at the water as he fell, his body going limp as he felt like he had been sedated. His mind told his body to react, but it seemed to shut down on its own as he plunged into the water, paralyzed it seemed except for his eyes.

At once he started sinking, not even able to close his mouth as he found himself staring up at the surface helplessly, drifting down into the cold water that it seemed was far deeper than he thought. Spyro's eyes darted around in a panic as the air escaped his lungs, his vision growing darker as his eyes finally lost the battle to stay awake. As the light above faded from view, the purple dragon bluntly accepted his fate; that this was his last moment and his last failure. The only consolation was that he felt no pain, closing his eyes over as he felt his conciseness fade away as he sank. He remembered feeling a great wave of bubbles swirl beneath him, even a faint thud as he presumed his body finally reached the bottom, weighed down the water flowing through his broken soul.

Show me now

How to find my home

All I am

Surrender

Tell me that you can forgive

Won't you tell me?

Bring me peace that I may live,

Feeling the caress of clear air on his body, Spyro's eyes shot open in an instant and his mouth gulped huge breaths as he realized, he wasn't underwater anymore! In place of the fading watery surface he had last seen before he blacked out was a sky of intertwining blues and purples, and all along his left side he felt a hard stone surface that he was laying on. He felt complete refreshed, at least physically, his body not aching from any of the trauma it had been subjected to the last few days. He then realized that all of this had happened before. Spyro lifted his head, gleeful that he could, up from the platform and cocked it over his shoulder, staring at the grey building and twin dragon statues that looked so much like the Dragon Temple. He blinked quickly and touched his chest and flexed clenched his toes, checking that he did indeed have full control of his body again. The same eerie silence pervaded once again as Spyro calmly assessed that he was still alive and back in the mysterious dreamscape that apparently existed in his mind.

"So I'm back here…" he muttered greyly to himself, pushing himself up into a sit as Spyro crossed his forelegs over and clenched his paws together, reveling in the feeling of self-control again. But as he sat there, the thought that his conciseness was removed from his body as it sank into a watery abyss filled him with panic. If his mind was here, where was his body? What was happening to it while he was essentially stuck inside his own head.

"Chronicler!" he yelled frantically, jumping up and bounding to and fro in front of the temple lookalike like a dog on alert, "Chronicler, are you there? Where are you?"

"I am here, young dragon. You do not need to yell," said that voice he had heard in his head the last time he had found himself in this strange place. Though relieved to hear the voice again, Spyro was understandably preoccupied with the question of what was happening to his physical form while he was summoned in this surreal illusion.

"Chronicler, you've got to send me back! I was drowning! I don't know how long I'll last before…"

"Calm down, Spyro. You needn't panic about your physical form," The Chronicler said gently, "I have been careful to summon you only when it is most needed and when it is safe for you to be here away from your body." Spyro's expression became abhorrent, gazing around the empty sky as if it were where the voice had come from,

"Careful?!" he cried furiously, "I fell into the ocean! My body is drowning right now!"

"Your body is safe, Spyro, I assure you. You may look in the pool of visions inside if it will sooth your concerns. See for yourself."

Not waiting for another invitation, Spyro turned and ran inside the building, seeing the pool of visions in its center just like it had been skidded up to the edge of the pool, gazing into its mystical waters anxiously, the same white light shining beneath the murky surface. As soon as he stood over it, the light began to expand and swirl like it had last time, the water churning into snow white particles as an image began to take shape.

"Something terrible has happened," Spyro said ruefully as he stared into the changing water, "So much has gone wrong! Warfang is under attack! The Guardians are missing, I don't know where my friends are, and Ignitus… Oh, Ignitus…" he whimpered as he hung his head low, his wings drooping over his back as he rocked his head miserably.

"I know, young dragon, I know," The Chronicler answered regretfully, "It pains me to see you suffer so much. But I'm afraid what has happened today is not the only trial you will face. This is, in truth, only the beginning." Spyro froze as a cold thought took over his mind. He raised his head and gazed up at the open ceiling as the words of the voice in his head sank in.

"You knew!" he exclaimed angrily, "You said that dark days were ahead, that great events were coming! This is what you were talking about! You knew this would happen! Why didn't you just tell me?!"

"I could not," the Chronicler replied plainly but with a hint of guilt, "What I told you was the most I could do. I had not intended to contact you so soon, but my own unease got the better of me. Otherwise, this would have been the first you had heard from me."

"So you did know this would happen!" Spyro snapped viciously, "I could have warned them! We could have stopped it!"

"There was no stopping it. It was already written," The Chronicler explained bluntly, "I could not have told you without exposing my existence. Who would have believed you had you told them what I know?"

"Ignitus would have believed me," Spyro answered coldly, "He believed me when I told him what I saw in Gaul's fortress. Maybe that's all it would have taken…"

"But he could not sway the Warfang Council, could he?" The Chronicler said pointedly, Spyro gazing angrily at the sky and forgetting about the image forming in front of him. It was only when he heard a whoosh sound like a gust of wind under his chin that he looked down again, his eyes widening at the vision that had appeared in the pool. The image he saw played like a memory he didn't recall having; seeing what looked like a bird's eyes view of some giant sea creature moving swiftly along the ocean's surface. The image did not reveal its whole form, only a portion of its shell-like back. Standing out from that was a tiny purple shape laying on its back, the foamy sea splashing over it as Spyro recognized himself. He was laying on his left side, completely dead to the world and oblivious to the unusual ride he was being given while unconscious.

"That's me!" he said in a startled cry, "But how did I… And what is that thing and where is it taking me?!"

"Sometimes I require assistance in my work," the Chronicler explained simply, "And I have a certain connection with some of our sea dwelling inhabitants. They can live for over five hundred years, you know."

"Okay, but where is it taking me?" he repeated impatiently.

"Away from danger. Somewhere you will be safe. Somewhere where you will stay until the right moment comes."

"You mean to you?"

"No, not yet," The Chronicler said carefully, "But in time I will…"

"But I can't go anywhere!" Spyro interrupted, "I've got to find the others! They're waiting for me at the temple!"

"Spyro, that is precisely why I have intervened at this moment; to stop you from doing that. You cannot go to the temple. Gaul's forces will be waiting for you there. You cannot hope to fight them in your current state." "How do you know that? And if that's true, my friends will be walking into a trap! I've got to help them!" "You cannot help them, Spyro. It is already too late," The Chronicler said glumly.

"What do you mean 'too late'?" Spyro demanded hectically, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying….you cannot save your friends, Spyro. Even if you could it would only result in your own death. That is certain. That is why I have taken these measures, to ensure you do not meet a premature end." Spyro's heart filled with horror at what he as being told, masking it behind an increasingly cantankerous anger as he raged at the unnatural night sky.

"You're saying my friends are going to die and you expect me to do nothing? How do I know any of this is true? How do you know it is? How can you be so certain?"

The Chronicler sighed heavily, "I take no pleasure in telling you this difficult news, Spyro, but you must understand that I have been studying the past and the future for many millennia. I have borne witness to almost all our written history. It is through this, through study and through meditation, that I have been able to see glimpses of the future. Sometimes it is not the future that will be, but the one that may be if certain paths are followed.

Ever since Malefor strayed from his intended path, I have made it my mission to ensure that the next purple dragon would be steered to the path that would lead to Malefor's ultimate defeat. I cannot offer you any proof right now beyond my solemn word, but I can tell you this; I have seen enough of these many futures to know that if you do return to the temple, you will surely die. In some you save your friends, others you do not, but either way, Spyro, you always die."

The young purple dragon was speechless, dropping down heavily on his haunches as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He found himself pulling his legs and tail close together as if he were shivering from a winter storm, his blood running cold.

"And Ignitus?" he asked tensely, "Did you know what would happen to him today? What about his fate?"

"I cannot see all events that will or may happen for every individual," The Chronicler explained shortly, "But I fear the worst for him."

"But you knew it would happen," Spyro growled as he looked up to the sky again, "Why couldn't you tell me? Maybe I could have done something different. Maybe I wouldn't have ended up stuck in those roots, maybe I could have…"

"Some things cannot be controlled or changed. Some events must occur if it is set up the course for future events. Everything that has transpired today has occurred so that you may arrive at the edge of the lagoon, where I chose to intervene to keep you from making a fatal mistake."

"You talk like this is a game or a play…" Spyro remarked in anguish, dropping his head down as he thought of the madness of it all. He heard the Chronicler sigh in bitter sadness, whomever he was apparently holding his tongue for him to digest the feeling of powerlessness that was sitting over him like a heavy storm cloud waiting to unleash its hailstorm upon him.

"I'm so very sorry, Spyro," The Chronicler said lowly, "But you must believe that I have only your best interests in mind. I'm telling you this and taking these actions for the greater good. Your fate and the worlds fate are one and the same."

"I never asked for this…" Spyro whimpered scornfully, "All this responsibility, all this pain and death. It's too much…"

"I won't pretend to understand your burden, Spyro. But it is one Ignitus wholeheartedly believed you would carry through to the end. That was the strength of his faith in you; that is why he sacrificed so much for you. Please, Spyro, you must not give up."

His tears falling into the pool of visions, the purple dragon stared at the now featureless waters, the image having vanished long before. He looked at his own reflection, staring into his shimmering amethyst eyes overflowing with despair. He looked at the color of his own scales, for the first time hating the sight of them and everything they had come to mean; pain and loss. Now here he was, being asked to abandon his friends to their untimely fate for the sake of a future he had less and less personal investment in. What life was he to have if it were only dictated by the will of others?

But the future meant the fate of the whole world and every living creature on it. This was what he had spent his whole life training for. Perhaps he had thought it would be more of a fun adventure; he and his friends vanquishing evil like it was some great heroic tale. Spyro saw nothing heroic in his own reflection, only despair.

"Is there…"he began uneasily, looking up at the open ceiling as he sensed the Chronicler's invisible eyes looking upon him, "Is there really no other way?"

"I only wish there was," The Chronicler replied woefully. Spyro clamped his eyes shut and lowered his head once more, his paws clenching into fists as his claws dug into his palms. His body shuddered as the emotional lightning strike rippled through his body, drawing a sharp breath through his mouth. His face tightened like he was straining to pull some great load, which emotionally he was. He made not a sound and neither did the Chronicler as he allowed the distraught young dragon to vent his feelings however he needed to, unable to imagine how anyone could have a heart strong enough for all he had told him. Yet Spyro was supposed to be that dragon. After a minute or so, his body stopped shaking, but Spyro remained as still as a statue for minutes after, his eyes neither opening nor shedding anymore tears. Perhaps his heart was hardening or perhaps it had died with his innocence, but whatever the case, silence prevailed inside the grey temple as the purple dragon battled his feelings. Then, after what may have been an hour or five minutes, Spyro slowly unclenched is fists and lifted his head, his eyes opening slowly as he sat rigidly in place. He blinked for a single, drawn-out moment, a pair of tears quickly streaking down the edge of his eyes as he breathed in deliberately.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked in a firm but reluctant voice. The Chronicler's answer did not come right away, Spyro wondering if the author of the mysterious voice had perhaps having left him while he had been brooding. A few moments later, he heard a resigned sigh in his head telling him the Chronicler was still there.

"Ride out this storm, Spyro. You must keep yourself from the world. You must remain hidden until the time comes for you to emerge. You must remain isolated from everything you know. The world must believe you are gone so your enemies will not seek you out. Live for the day that you are called upon. When that day comes, I will summon you. But until then, you must become but a memory."

Spyro showed no emotion as he was told this, taking a sharp breath as his chest expanded and retracted thoughtfully. "Hide? That's it?"

"And wait," The Chronicler added.

"For how long?"

"Until the time is right. Are you ready to go back?" Spyro hated the vagueness of these answers, but he was too exhausted to press it any further. He gave a slow, wordless nod, seemingly accepting that his fate was out of his own grasp.

"Very well. Just as before, look into the pool and you shall be returned." Spyro cautiously took one last look around the room of the mysterious realm he was in. His hardened exterior masked the uncertainty and melancholy that was bubbling inside him. Swallowing tepidly, he looked down into the pool as the light within it began to swirl again. He watched as the waters became bright white as before, glowing and rising towards him in a blinding aura that consumed him and everything around him.

"Goodluck, young dragon," he heard the Chronicler say just as the white light enveloped him, a moment later hearing the sound of waves as he felt an uncomfortable layer of pebbles beneath his right side.

Show me now,

How to find my home,

All I am

Surrender,

Spyro opened his eyes with a sudden gasp of breath, the pain that had vanished during the trip inside his mind returned as well. He lay still for a moment as he found himself staring across the pebble covered expanse of an unfamiliar shore. He rolled his head up to the sky, seeing the dark of night and a million glistening stars. He turned his head forwards and looked inland, finding himself staring into a darkened tree line beyond the shore. Huge brown oaks and lush green plants formed a perimeter while the soft purple glow of giant mushrooms were dotted in-between them. They were not towering like the ones near the temple, but they were still larger than him and coupled with the moonlight gave the scene an eerie atmosphere.

He stared deliriously for a moment, listening to the strange calls and chirping insects that he hadn't heard before, not seeing any other life part from that. A cold dampness touching the tip of his tail made him look around towards the sea that was gently lapping against it. He saw the Celestial Moons high above him as he looked across a shimmering flat sea colored by the moons and not a hint of the creature that had apparently bought him here.

"Where am I?" he asked himself, rolling gingerly on his back, shuffling the pebbles beneath him as he scanned across the other side, seeing more pebbles strewn beach stretching off as far as his eyes could reach. The salty air was course in his lungs and on the bruises his body had accumulated. The purple dragon scanned the distant shore as it turned to the right and headed out before tapering off some distance away and going who knew which way. Spyro rolled back on his right side to not agitate his injured foreleg, straining to lift himself as he planted his feet onto the pebbles beneath him. The gazed at the unknown forest in front of him apprehensively, wondering why the Chronicler had chosen to send him here. For all he knew it was the other side of the world for the passage of time didn't seem to matter when he was in that strange world inside his head. It could not have been much later than midday when he collapsed into the lagoon, and he had spent no more than ten minutes in the Chronicler's realm. Yet it was now the middle of the night on what he presumed was still the same day. Had he actually accelerated through time somehow, or was the Chronicler controlling when he would wake up? Whatever the answer, it only added to his conviction that nothing about his existence was in his control.

Now Spyro found himself alone on the shore of some land he knew nothing about because of the interference of a mysterious voice that barely told him enough to understand why. He slowly hobbled around and faced the water that he had been delivered from, the waves gently petering out across the pebbly shore like a metaphor for everything he had known his whole life. He gazed across the sea, feeling a painful knot in his stomach as somewhere beyond the horizon was the world he had grown up in, now collapsing and burning under the might of a tyrant he was always taught he was sure to beat. He thought back to Warfang, imagining what was becoming of it. Had the city fallen or had the invaders been repelled? When last he saw it to seemed nothing could stop the apes, but perhaps his idea, his notion of destroying the viaduct had helped stem the tide. The fiery images of the stricken Doxantha cursed his mind, only tightening the knot in his stomach.

What had happened to the other Guardians? What about Hunter and the Cheetahs? What about Remy and his crew? What about Mason and the mole soldiers he had helped and who had helped him that day? What about Cynder, Flame and Ember who he had promised he would meet up with again? But then he knew what the answer was for them was; the Chronicler had said that going to the temple might save them, but would invariably result in his own death. Now that he was stuck on the edge of the unknown, no longer coming to their aid, their fate was all but assured. They were dead. They were his friends, his family, the closest he had known to brothers and sisters, and he had let it happen. Along with them the only father he had ever known, Ignitus, had been left at the mercy of vicious bulb spiders. Spyro now stood alone not only on this beach, but the whole world.

With heavy eyes, Spyro lifted his head to the sky and looked at the stars above, feeling like every single one was an eye judging him for what he had failed to stop. For failing to protect what he cared for most. He felt ashamed at the fact that he had already wallowed in aguish so much that now he couldn't even muster anymore tears for them. For his family.

"I'm so sorry, guys…I'm sorry Ignitus…" he whispered faintly, imaging that somewhere, wherever they were now they could hear his words, "Please forgive me. Ancestors, please look after them. Give me the strength to carry on for them."

He stood there as if he were expecting an answer, the only sound he heard being that of the waves and the sounds of the forest behind him. With a sorrowful sigh, Spyro turned his back on the sea and faced towards the new world in front of him. He looked across the towering forest and its ominous glow and noises, not knowing what awaited with in it and not caring either. All that he cared about was behind him and gone, all in one day. This place, until whenever the Chronicler decided was the 'right' time, was his cruel new beginning. With sunken shoulders, the purple dragon began to walk slowly forward towards the forest, hanging his head low as he stepped of the pebbled beach and onto the thick grass of the forest floor. As he passed through the outer layer of trees, he stopped and took a final glance over his shoulder at the sea and the world beyond it that had been everything he had ever known. Still fresh out of tears, Spyro turned his head back and with it hanging low he journeyed onward into the dark forest. To where and why, he did not know….

Oh, sweet rest

Find me at my home

Stay with me

Forever

Let the water flow right through this broken soul.

End of Chapter 18.

Next Chapter: Sparx in the Night

When I thought up this chapter, I certainty wanted to invoke the spirit of "This Broken Soul" which we all know plays at the end of the Legend of Spyro: The Eternal Night, but didn't think I'd just go ahead and include the lyrics in the chapter like writing music into a screenplay. I know that it doesn't really make sense to include them in the context of the story since Spyro is not thinking them in his head, though I did consider writing it as him remembering the lyrics of a sad song he once heard and could not get it out of his head while all this sad stuff is happening, but I thought that would come across as goofy and forced.

So I just decided that I hope the readers can suspend their disbelief and think of it more like a scene from a movie where the song is playing over the drama as it unfolds, but in the end I don't think many people will mind.