Prologue: Paths of Red

Knifewielder was nervous on what to do.

Her husband, Deathstalker, had recently told her of a tradition that his family had repeatedly done for centuries. Despite being an assassin, and having recently gone on a mission for Queen Battlewinner, this unnerved her to no extent.

"Perhaps it is those motherly instincts kicking in. Damn it Knifewielder, fight it!" she told herself. With focusing on a color, blue for her, something she had been trained to do to maintain focus, she was able to banish the doubt and stress, but still her indecisiveness returned.

"Hey! Knifewielder!", came the call of her husband and mate, as Deathstalker came running up with, she was surprised to see, a rock bowl that contained a reddish-dark liquid that looked disturbingly like blood. She wasn't disturbed by the color, just the connection itself.

"Wait, oh shit! Is it that time? I thought I had another week!" Her heart rate went up as Deathstalker pulled her across the rudimentary bridges over to the cave where their egg resided. The cave was, as usual, overly hot and humid, not like it was any different on this god forsaken volcano. Small traces of still heated rock pulsed in the walls, and a small layer of smoke clogged the upper entrance. Going through, they came upon a crevasse that held an egg, still in it's formation stages, when the dragonet inside was still in a vulnerable state, where any serious movement could damage the hatchling.

She watched very hesitantly as Deathstalker slowly brought out the egg from the crevasse and onto a platform where it stood absolutely still. As she watched Deathstalker, she reflected on how she had been told this only a few days after the egg was formed. Apparently, it was tradition in Deathstalker's line to paint the son's egg with red, intricate patterns of paint, as it was believed that they would have a natural affinity for assassination if the color of blood was imbued on them in this stage, where the egg was the most impressionable.

She really didn't want this, but respected other tradition, but it was still her dragonet, and she couldn't help what happened next.

"STOP!" Knifewielder called, and Deathstalker froze, afraid he had done something wrong.

"What is wrong love?", he replied, having a soft side reserved for his loved ones. She loved that side of him, and respected the assassin side of him, but right now, she needed the one she loved.

"I-I don't want him to be marked. I just can't see him grow up feeling different from everyone else. Especially if that superstition turns out to be true, and he is born with an affinity for blood like you said." She said, tears flowing as her motherly side took over. She expected Deathstalker to yell, or be hurt, or do something negative for disrespecting his tradition. But what she didn't expect is the feeling of wings over hers.

She looked up and saw Deathstalker embracing her with his wings. "Knifewielder, I would never do this if you didn't want to. Sure, I respect my tradition, but you come first." That was the Deathstalker she married, "And besides, why would he be different, I mean, I turned out great." He wiggled is talons, "Mostly"

She laughed a little bit, and she decided, "Let's discuss this at home, it will still be in this state tomorrow, and now we can decide what to do, but for now, let's put him back. Deathstalker went to put the paint off his wing, but then it happened.

A subordinate dragon, Thoughtpiercer, had to chose that exact moment to come in and scream, "Orders from Queen Battlewinner! She needs you two to..." She didn't hear the rest. All she could do was watch the red paint that came flying out of the bowl as Deathstalker jumped, surprised at the shift in volume. The paint went flying into the air, toward the pedestal, and smack dab right on the egg.

Knifewielder screamed out in horror, and raced forward to try to clean it off, but the insipid high temperature caused the paint to dry insanely quickly. Her beloved black egg was now a blood red. She kneeled down, sobbing, as Deathstalker looked at Thoughtpiercer with enough ferocity it caused him to rush out. She lay on the ground crying, and Deathstalker tried to comfort her, but eventually she blacked everything out, her despair immeasurable.

Knifewielder looked at her egg, still unbelieving that it was really happening. They had detected that the dragonet was still alive, but the eggshell had somehow lost the red color, but became really dry and brittle. Deathstalker was away on a mission, so he could not be here, but she was focused solely on her egg as a small crack appeared in the shell. Her heart started beating faster and faster, as she saw more cracks appearing. Then, a crack at the bottom started to leak a red liquid. The liquid spread out on the small platform, until the entire platform was covered in the substance, until the entire egg split apart. Sitting before her was the most perfect hatchling she had ever seen. Tail straight, wings the healthiest she had seen, she aligned herself with the head, wanting her son to see a caring mother the first time he opened his eyes. The eyelids fluttered a bit before opening wide.

All the breath came out of Knifewielder in a second. The eyes were the color of blood straight from an artery, and as the small dragon walked slowly across the red encrusted platform, and leaving pawprints of red in his wake, Knifewielder held her son close, determined to love him no matter what he looked like. "Hello Bloodwalker."

"Awrk awrk." Responded the little dragonet, nuzzling his mother's neck.

Hey! I'm alive! Well crap, this has been embarrassing. I return to the Spyro fandom and then completely disappear? Well, I made this in an hour to commemorate an OC I am lending to AdmiralCole22 in his story, Glorious Politics. Check him out, it is an amazing story. Peace OUT!