Muras groaned as he was dropped onto the torture table. Everything hurt; everything was bruised or leaking blood. He was surprised at how large the room was; most torture chambers weren't usually this big. It was as if it was designed to have multiple tortures going on at once. But since there was only one torturee, there was plenty of room for a decent crowd to enter and watch. Most of the crowd from outside had joined them, and those who couldn't fit fought to look through the doorway.

Cynder stepped forward, grabbing him firmly and strapping him to the table so he couldn't move. She wasn't gentle in the slightest. Muras looked into her eyes. They were difficult to read, but it seemed as if she was fighting herself. Or more accurately, a demon within herself. The Terror of the Skies still haunted her, that much was clear. She seemed afraid, as if she would enjoy torturing him so much that she would turn into the Terror once more.

Even through the fear and the cloudiness in her eyes, Muras could see a tiny hint of the Terror inside them. He saw his servant. His stomach twisted and his heart ached. He wanted to cry for her, but he had cried out all of his tears. Eventually, he couldn't look at her anymore.

The purple dragon looked around, taking in his surroundings. Shelves of old, rusted weapons stood intimidatingly across from him. The walls and floor were stained with old blood from hundreds of years ago that was never cleaned. It was filthy and horrifying, and felt as if the spirits of those that had been tortured or killed here were watching him, mocking him, cursing him.

He saw movement in his peripheral vision. He turned to see Cynder standing directly at him, her expression blank. Ancestors, he was terrified. It scared him to be on this side of the torture. It had always been him doing the torturing. He knew how ruthless torture was since he had done it, and that scared him.

The fact that Cynder was torturing him made it worse. She used to be super sadistic, a crazy torturer. She loved it. He was terrified she was going to love it again; he was terrified she was going to turn into the Terror of the Skies again.

His old servant.

They called her 'puppet'. Malefor's puppet, Muras thought. Oh Cynder… I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry to everyone.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Cynder growled.

"You don't have to do this, Cynder. I'm a changed dragon; you know that. Don't let what everyone says get to you; don't let them force you into someone you're not. This… isn't you," Muras croaked. "You are not the Terror of the Skies."

"I know," Cynder whispered, bending down and shoving her face into his. "But to be honest, you still deserve this. After everything you did. To them, to me, to your damn family."

Muras winced at the mention of his family. It was still an extremely raw wound, even so many years later. Every time he thought of his family, he would become a sobbing mess. Only this time it didn't happen, because his eyes physically could not produce any more tears.

Cynder kept going. "Even though I've… somewhat begun to trust you—only barely—I've still wanted to see you pay for what you did. You put everyone through hell; you deserve the same."

"Please, Cynder. Don't kill me, please," Muras murmured.

"I won't. But I will say this: welcome to hell."

The dragoness stepped back towards the shelf, analysing the weapons for a short amount of time, before grabbing a massive fishhook with a large barb on it. A small snort sounded, before Cynder walked back to Muras.

Muras' violet eyes could not leave the sickly weapon that hovered in front of him. Cynder brandished it, the rusted, diary metal still catching and reflecting a small amount of light.

Damn you, Cynder. Just do it already, Muras thought.

She raised the fishhook high into the air, before she swung it down at Muras. He howled in pain as the barbed fishhook slammed into his left shoulder, puncturing deep into the flesh. He felt Cynder tug on it to pull it out, but it was stuck; the large barb didn't help either. Muras could feel it caught in his flesh, and the more Cynder twisted and pulled, the more painful it became, and the more flesh the barb poked through. Cynder angled the fishhook inside him, before she finally managed to pull it out, taking a large chunk of flesh with it. Another scream tore from Muras' throat as his flesh got torn away.

The dark purple dragoness barely gave Muras a second to breathe before she plunged the fishhook into his shoulder again. And again. And again. Each time, the fishhook took a substantial amount of flesh with it, exposing more raw flesh that bled profusely. She continued to hack at Muras' shoulder with the fishhook, to the point where she finally made it to bone. Muras felt the cold metal hook grind against his bone, and he had to fight hard to stop the involuntary tremor that threatened to rack his body.

Muras' ears rang; all he could hear was his screaming and irregular heartbeat. He knew the crowd was cheering, but he couldn't hear it.

He looked up at Cynder as she pulled the fishhook out of his body, the curved metal slathered in in thick, dripping blood, a few chunks of flesh stuck on it from its adventures in and out of his shoulder; Muras had lost count of how many times it had gone in and came out with a chunk of flesh.

Cynder's emerald-green eyes were wild with a glint Muras hadn't seen since her days as the Terror of the Skies. Bloodlust gleamed in those orbs, and a wicked, sadistic smile pulled at her lips, whether she intended it to or not. Muras looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but they all wore the same expressions.

Muras looked back at Cynder as she stared at him devilishly, still holding the bloodied fishhook. It sickened the purple dragon to see her like this. He had done this to her; he had turned her into this monster. Who would she be if he hadn't taken her? He thought about the life he had taken from her, and his eyes finally decided to bring more tears once the thought entered his head.

He'd thought of the damage he'd done to Cynder plenty of times, but he had never thought of it in the way that he just did. A pure, perfect life, and a real, enjoyable childhood, with plenty of friends and a loving family, all torn away from her since before she could even walk.

Her corruption had happened the day of her hatching. As he remembered this, one more sound entered his head, and it overwhelmed his own screams; it was Cynder's wails of unadulterated terror. A little hatchling, screaming and wailing, oblivious to what was happening to her, but only knowing that it hurt worse than hell itself. And Muras had laughed and enjoyed every moment of it, even from his convexity prison as he watched through the convexity crystals that linked him to the real world.

The purple dragon was ripped out of his thoughts as Cynder began to hack into his right shoulder with the fishhook. She swung at him five times, not nearly as much as the previous shoulder, before she tossed the fishhook aside.

Muras looked up at Cynder with despair, his breath ragged and irregular, another round of tears streaming down his face. He didn't know how long it would take for his eyes to dry out.

Cynder just stood there. Muras tried to read her to figure out what her next move was, but she was unreadable. Her eyes were harsh and he couldn't look away from them. They were horrible eyes to stare into.

The screams of the crowd around him were loud and deafening as their cheers flooded back into his ears; it was impossible to make out any words.

The purple dragon lay there in terror as he waited for Cynder to move. After a couple more seconds, she did. She opened her mouth and breathed a stream of shadow fire at Muras. He cried out in pain as the dark purple flames engulfed the front half of his body, eating at his scales and flesh and cauterising the open wounds on his shoulders.

Cynder closed her mouth,revealing Muras' now burned and mangled face, scales burned and crusted, and flesh peeling as veins poked through the flesh, sizzling and popping. His eye socket had peeled open, exposing a lot more of his eye to the cold, harsh air around him, and it quickly began to go red from irritation. He could only just blink, but it hurt to do so.

Before he knew it, Cynder was walking beside him. She reached out with a claw and dug it into Muras' flank, drawing blood. She dragged her claw with her as she walked, slicing a deep, thick cut along his left flank, up his hip and the base of his tail, and around to his right side, ending at his flank.

Once more she stood in front of him, but the awkward staring never happened. As soon as she came to a stop, she opened her mouth again. He expected another purple inferno, or even a glob of poison.

Instead, she screamed, and bright red energy shot at him.

It was a siren scream.

Muras felt his heartbeat quicken. His breathing became heavier. His vision became a blurry mess. He heard the blood rushing in his ears.

Over time, his vision slowly came back into focus. He looked around and saw the interior of someone's house. It was familiar. It didn't take him long to realise it was his house. His childhood house.

A childish longing swelled in his chest at the sight of the familiar room: family portraits were hung up on the wall, beautiful roses stood up tall in a vase on the table in front of him, the shiny marble walls and floor glistened as though it was fresh.

Barely a couple seconds after he managed to make out the room, it began to deteriorate. Blood stains began to form on the walls. The roses withered and died. The family portraits cracked.

"No! NO!" Muras cried, needing the childhood memories to make it through the torture.

A large slash appeared on his chest, and he howled in pain. He looked down at his chest, seeing the multiple long streaks that were clearly made by claws. Cynder was still attacking him even in this scary vision that was unfolding before him.

The vision became even more nightmarish as he looked up and saw a blue dragon in front of him. It was a young water dragon, in his early thirties, with brilliant golden horns and fins, and a bronze underbelly and a smooth, rounded muzzle. The dragon was complete with a slit throat, the wound old and covered with dried, crusted blood. His eyes were cold and dead, pupils slitted and irises grey, as opposed to the beautiful blue they used to be.

"Farill?" Muras choked out.

Another slice across the chest forced a cry out of his throat. Blood dripped down his chest, covering it in red. He was worried he was going to bleed out; he was covered in his own blood.

Muras looked up at Farill once more, painful tears streaming down his face. "Farill, please! Help!" the purple dragon pleaded.

"No. You deserve this, you fool. I can't believe we ever loved such an evil creature like you. You're a purple dragon, destined for evil. I should've seen it coming; the signs were there!" Farill snarled.

"That's not true, Farill; I've changed! I'm fighting for good now!"

"Only because you're scared that Spyro will do your job for you. Once you kill Spyro, you'll just turn your back on the world again only so you can destroy it!"

"Farill, don't believe those lies! I'm sorry! Truly!"

"You're not sorry, Malefor."

Pain flared through Muras' left flank as something strong and sharp sliced its way into his flesh: once, twice, three times, four.

"You just want me to believe you. To make me feel sorry for you," Farill continued, stepping closer to Muras and shoving his face closer, forcing Muras to stare into his brother's cold, dead eyes. "You made me do this! You hurt and abused me for years, and you killed me! You killed your father! You turned him into a criminal—a murderer and a rapist—and you killed him! And then, you killed your damn mother! YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME FOR THIS, MALEFOR!"

"Don't call me that, please!" Muras howled, as more pain seared through his body—his hind left leg now. "Just get me out of here!"

"There's only one person left to kill, Malefor, and that's yourself. You want to get out so badly? Just take your life! Take your pitiful life just like you took ours!" Farill growled, and two more figures materialised around Farill—Muras' parents. "Slit your throat, and get it all over and done with!"

"No, I w-w-won't!" Muras stammered.

"DO IT!"

Something hard hit Muras in the head. He wasn't sure whether it was Farill or Cynder; his head throbbed so much he couldn't think straight. Only a couple seconds later, Muras' vision went black.

The moment Muras woke, he wanted to throw up. Everything hurt, and his head spun, vision blurry. After a few disorienting moments, his vision cleared, and the purple dragon saw he was still inside the torture chamber. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was no longer bound to the table, the straps hanging down the side of it. His blood stained the sturdy cobblestone table, even running down the sides of it and dripping onto the floor. It was a lot of red, and a rather gruesome sight.

Muras looked himself over to analyse his wounds. The wounds on his arms had closed over slightly, as if red gems had been used on him; there was only so much red gems could do however, and considering the state his shoulders had been in, he wasn't surprised they were still open, covered in dried, crusted blood. The other slices were fully closed, but still scabbed over.

How many red gems had they used on him? Who had given them to him?

It was then that the purple dragon noticed Cynder in the corner of the room facing him, twirling a knife in her paws to keep her occupied. Her eyes were glued to the spinning weapon. She had an unreadable expression on her face; nothing had changed since the torture.

"You're awake," Cynder deadpanned, not even looking at him.

"Y-yeah, uhh… did you heal me?" Muras questioned.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Cynder didn't answer. An uncomfortable silence fell among them, and Muras squirmed slightly. He groaned as he shuffled on the bloodstained table, his wounds still hurting. Muras wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say. Not after what just happened. It felt like everything had changed between them.

Muras felt the tears come again, especially now that he was starting to actually process what had just happened.

Cynder no longer trusted him. Well, he guessed she never really did, but there was some form of understanding, mutual care, and… acquaintanceship even… that they had had. Now it was all gone. Just him being present had destroyed her reputation, destroyed the trust she had with her fellow citizens. He had destroyed her friendships. He had destroyed her sanity. As far as Warfang was concerned, not only was Malefor back, but so was the Terror of the Skies. Even to hurt him, bring him pain, and give him the punishment that the citizens wanted, Cynder had to become that monster again.

Everyone that Warfang hated was back. No one felt safe. Spyro was on the loose, Malefor was back, and Cynder was the Terror of the Skies again. There was no one to protect them, although that was only what Warfang believed. Cynder was still very much on Warfang's side, and now, so was Muras. But Warfang didn't see it that way.

Even with the tension between him and Cynder, there was still one thing that kept them close: they understood each other. They were both seen as monsters that they weren't, and were now being ridiculed for it.

The big difference was that Muras had done this to Cynder, both now in just being here, as well as twenty-three years ago when he first corrupted her on the day of her hatching. He thought back to that day; it was so vivid: the little light grey and teal hatchling suspended in the air in a pillar of dark energy, screaming her little lungs out as she bled and transformed into a monster right in front of him and Gaul.

This was all his fault.

He absolutely deserved the torture. And dare he say it, even more.

"Stop crying, you baby," Cynder scowled, making Muras aware of how hard he was sobbing.

"Sorry. I'm just… I'm just in my own head a bit," the purple dragon croaked, wiping his eyes.

"So am I, but you don't see me crying, do you?"

Muras recoiled at the retort, before he just nodded, wiping his eyes again with a sniffle, turning them back down to the bloodstained table. After a few seconds, Muras began to lift himself up from his lying position, raising himself to sit up comfortably.

He looked over at Cynder; she was still twirling the knife between her talons.

"You know, I've been… contemplating," Cynder piped up, making Muras jump slightly. "Contemplating about… oh I don't know, the last few days. Weeks. Months. Years."

"And?" Muras questioned, not liking the dark tone in her voice.

"I think I know… why this is all happening: Spyro, and his turn to darkness… all that," Cynder murmured, gripping the knife in her palm and clenching her fist tightly around it. "You know, we had everything: a home, a life, a load of friends… a son. And then he turned. And he took my son away from me."

Muras was suddenly aware of the wobble in her voice. He focused on her eyes, still focused directly at the knife. They were red and wet; there were tears building. It felt weird to see someone like Cynder cry.

"But I came to the realisation that this wouldn't have happened without the dark alter ego that was festering inside him, ready to corrupt his heart and soul," Cynder continued. "His motives wouldn't have changed without it, but his actions and his temptation to give into his inner darkness, that would have, because he wouldn't have an inner darkness to tempt him.

"And the only reason why that darkness was inside of him in the first place was because of Gaul. If it wasn't for Gaul, he wouldn't have been caught in the beam during the Night of Eternal Darkness. If it wasn't for me and my pull towards the Well of Souls, he wouldn't have been anywhere near there. Both of these are your fault. Gaul was the king of your ape army, and I was only compelled to go to the Well of Souls because of the darkness you put in me.

"Basically, this whole war is your fault. You sent Spyro to the Well of Souls. You corrupted him. And now he's given into that corruption, and he's the next evil purple dragon. He's killed so many of my friends. He's killed my family. You did this to him!"

"Cynder, I—"

"SHUT UP!" Cynder screamed, spittle flying from her lips; her eyes finally locked onto Muras, and he could feel the weight of her gaze. "I had everything I could ever want, Muras; I had friends, a home, people who cared for me, a son, a mate! AND YOU TOOK THEM ALL AWAY FROM ME!"

With a howl of unadulterated rage, Cynder hurled the knife at Muras. He barely had time to register it, before it embedded itself into his left shoulder, which was his worst one. He cried out in pain, quickly removing the knife and holding his right paw over the wound to pressurise it. Hot blood began to bubble up from the wound underneath his paw. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, hissing as he tried to pull through the pain.

When he looked back up a couple seconds later, Cynder's demeanour had completely changed. She stared at him, jaw slack and bottom lip quivering, her tears slowly beginning to break free and drip down her face. Just looking at her so broken made him want to cry.

And he did.

"I'm sorry," he managed to blurt out before he burst into tears.

At that point, Cynder lost all composure as she sobbed as well. She couldn't handle the raw emotion behind those two words. As the dragoness looked over Muras, sitting in front of her, blood dripping down his shoulder, the rest of his body covered in ugly, half-healed wounds, she began to realise that he was just as broken as she was, probably even more so.

And she had just made it worse. She had just tortured him. His name was now another one to add to her list of hundreds, maybe thousands, of dragons she had tortured.

"I know the amount of times I could say that may never mean anything to you, Cynder," Muras sobbed, managing to force the words out. "But I truly am. Beyond words. It truly breaks my heart to see all I've done, whether it be in you, in the people around me, in the world, and especially right now, in Spyro. It pains me to see all the hell I brought to the Dragon Realms. Please believe me when I say I'm sorry, because I mean it."

Cynder didn't reply. She just lowered her haunches to the ground, raising a paw to her mouth to try and stifle her sobs.

"I'm sorry," Muras repeated, his own sobs getting stronger. "I'm sorry."

"Stop," Cynder pleaded.

Muras just kept repeating the phrase, and before either of them knew it, Cynder had sunk to the ground, claws digging at her temples. Muras quickly followed suit, laying back down on his stomach.

It was a bizarre sight, seeing the both of them bawling their eyes out in the middle of a torture chamber.

Muras barely had any energy left after crying so much, getting beaten up, tortured, and then bawling his eyes out even more. It didn't take him long to cry himself to sleep.

Muras woke up the next morning in his room in the Warfang Temple. His wounds were closed a smidge more than they were after he woke up from the torture, and both his shoulders were wrapped in large bandages.

He was somewhat confused. Had Cynder brought him here after he cried himself to sleep? Why?

The purple dragon saw a note hanging on the door in front of him. Slowly and shakily, he got to his paws, hobbling towards the door and grabbing the note.

I'm sorry.

'Beyond words.'

- Cynder -

Muras smiled, feeling his eyes tear up. He nodded, holding Cynder's note to his chest. Hopefully after this, and their crying session last night, they could become friends once more.

Getting Warfang to trust him would be an entirely different story, and he knew how hard it would be to do that. Especially since word spreads very quickly in massive cities like Warfang, so there was a high chance that everyone knew by now. But Muras hoped that the day would come where he could belong here and call himself a Warfangian dragon once more.

Two chapters in one month?! What is this lol

I'm so happy to have gotten this done so quickly; it's great getting more chapters out for this story. I can't wait to get this massive project finished haha; it's been going on for four years as of this month so ye I've been working on this for a very long time. It'll be good to finally get to Book 2.

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Dragon of Mystery:Yeah Hunter has it really rough right now. So do both Cynder and Muras now. And I guess this chapter answered your question of whether Cynder went along with the torture or not haha.

Also great to hear you have a job now wooo! Good to hear it's been great too (I totally get the socially exhausting bit tho haha).

Cynder22: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.

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Anyway I hope you all liked this chapter. I have no clue whether the next chapter will take as short a time as this one did, but I'm gonna aim to get it out next month. If it happens before then, then yay me! If not, uni's probably kicking my backside lol.

See you next chapter! Have a great day!