Warning: Graphic descriptions of bodily harm and violence.

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Pain.

Everything was an icy, aching, muscle crushing, bone breaking, breath freezing pain.

He breathed hard as he fought, his sword Mortifier humming as it extracted the entrails of an advancing shadowy monster before the black creature melted into mist. The freezing temperatures around him hurt more than anything he'd ever endured in his life, every muscle in his body aching with the forewarning of vicious hypothermia induced cramps. His heaving breath no longer sent mist into the air, the warmth having long since left his most likely eviscerated lungs.

Fire leapt from Mortifier as he delivered a devastating combination of slashes into a nearby monster, the warmth sending his arm into another spasm of agony from the sheer change in temperature. His muscles threatened to lock up on the face of the shocking pain in his arm, but he twisted his elbow and strained his shoulder, sending his trusty weapon spinning over his head to deter any encroaching enemies before leading into a set of Electricity charged thrusts that tore one of his targets into a fine mist.

He didn't know how long he'd been fighting for. These creatures had appeared from nowhere and returned to it just as quickly as he slashed their bodies apart. He couldn't stop fighting either, as the pain of near death was not the relief he believed it to be. He felt every injury with a hyper-awareness that even those trained to feel their surroundings without any of their senses would be jealous of. And every time one of the shadowy beasts tore into him, it was like his soul was being ripped from his body along with any part of himself he held dear.

With every cut, a slice of nostalgia ceased to exist. With every drop of blood spilt he felt his memories slipping away, disappearing into the unending battle he'd been fighting for God knows how long.

He didn't even know his own name anymore. All he remembered was the title they called him; Iglis Unith.

He knew he was destined to fight forever in this icy glacier prison, doomed to either be devoured by his wounds, his exhaustion or the beasts that were hunting him. He had been sentenced to this fate a long time ago. So long ago he didn't dare estimate the years that had passed. All he knew is that it had to been thousands about thousands of years now. And he knew that those years would stretch on until the end of time.

Then, his prison creaked. The battle stopped for just a moment, and he felt his gaze drift upward. The azure ice above him shuddered a little, then a crack formed. The sudden appearance of the tiny break sent a loud, sharp noise through the room. The monsters recoiled, and a tiny, infinitely small flame of hope lit in his heart. Suddenly he no longer felt that his flesh was flaking away from his bones, no longer felt that his entire body was subjected to the Sub-Zero temperatures around him, no longer felt that his imprisonment was permanent.

Mortifier sang as flames leapt from it's blade, the fire stronger and hotter than anything he had summoned before. The roaring energy was white hot at it's core, the rest stained a brilliant blue with terrifying heat that began to melt the prison around him. Suddenly, release was in his grasp. Suddenly everything was going to be okay again.

His prison groaned above him as Mortifier sliced and scorched a path of destruction through the now surging amount of shadowy beasts forming from seemingly nowhere, their numbers bolstering in an attempt to keep their prey from escaping. He felt a smile sneak it's way onto his frozen lips, ignoring the searing pain from his right arm as the white hot flames around Mortifier nearly melted his flesh from his bones.

He found that his muscles seemed to obey him completely again, their energy returning as the expanding heat from his flaming sword brought feeling back into his core. He wondered why he hadn't just lit a flame before. He fought with the strength of a demon, the Fire extending the reach of Mortifer's blade and bringing a hot inferno of death down upon the tens of shadowy beasts around him. He swung wildly, the residual temperature from his now unleashed flames licking the sides of his icy prison and bringing some melted water down upon the arena.

A roar soon came from his own lips as he fought as hard as he had when he was first imprisoned. When he still had hope that his endless fighting wouldn't be forever. Mortifer roared with him as it's firey wrath intensified, the dancing flames following his every swing and evaporating every creature that dared get close. He watched as even the shadowy beasts themselves began to recoil in sudden fear; his true strength had returned. And with it, his ability to break free of his prison.

Another loud crack of ice filled the chamber, and a quick look upward confirmed that the break in his prison was getting larger. Newly melted water began to drop out of the crack, another sign that his frozen chains were weakening, and they were weakening by his own hand. He continued his deadly dance as the ice around him shook and broke, the cracks above him soon spreading to the walls and even the floor.

He fought harder, and harder until the blue flames on the edge of his sword became just as bright as the white ones at the core. The heat was nearly volcanic as he hacked, slashed and seared his way through the shadowy beasts that were now endlessly multiplying in an attempt to stop him from breaking free of his chains. Their attempts were futile, as with every four that appeared six were slain by Mortifer's roaring flames and razor sharp edge.

A final crack rang through the chamber. He turned on his heel, banishing the flaming power on his sword and summoning Electricity in it's place. Yellow sparks flew wildly as an untold amount of energy was channeled into Mortifer's blade, the sheer power running through the metal making even the sword itself scream in angry rage at the power coursing through it. Stray electrical bolts flew outwards as he lowered Mortifer close the ground and focused on the crack above him, not even bothering to notice as the bolts sent outward by his channeling vaporized a few of the remaining shadowy creatures.

He then swung upward, using every ounce of strength, every megawatt of power he'd summoned, every flicker of hope that had come to him. Mortifer roared alongside him as the sheer energy he sent rocketing upwards broke straight through the ice that had imprisoned him for so long, the sound similar to that of a whistling train colliding headfirst with the largest vehicle it could. The Electricity he summoned filled the chamber, evaporating every creature in the vicinity with the exception of those who were just emerging and himself.

Suddenly, he was free. And then, everything was black.


Volteer and Cyril flew silently through the slowly warming skies of the lands north of Warfang, their wing beats being the only sound between the two.

They had refused to say anything when they began their return journey towards the Dragon City, the weight of what they were escorting back being far too heavy for idle chit-chat or speculation on Volteer's part. Upon the Electric Guardian's back was the unconscious Human, having been set in such a way to prevent him from falling off Volteer's back. They didn't tie him down for fear of him awakening and mistaking himself kidnapped by some unknown person.

Cyril, between keeping his eyes on the sky for airborne threats and maintaining their course for Warfang, glanced at the still comatose Human. He pondered silently as they flew closer to their destination, the sunset over the horizon giving a slight melancholy to the beautiful landscape before them. They had long since passed out of the frozen lands of Dante's Freezer and other snow covered places, and had instead passed into places where greenery was a little more common. Wide open plains, the occasional tree in the rolling hills and endless fluffy white clouds to fill up the sky.

Why had this Human been trapped beneath the ice? Actually, the more apt question would be why had this Human even survived to see the current age? The bedtime stories and old myths described Humans as being long lived, almost as long lived as Dragons, but not nearly enough for one to survive millennia underneath a thick layer of ice, and more ice on top of that. Was this Human actually the artifact that Terrador had sent them to find? If it was, what was he hiding from them? What was dire enough to both retrieve what could prove to be a disaster in of itself and to keep from the other Guardians?

These questions swirled through Cyril's mind almost as violently as the snowstorm that used to grip the lands farther north of Dante's Freezer. Key words, used to. It was painfully obvious to him that the snowstorms plaguing the Northern Lands was a result of this Human trapped in his prison, most likely raging against his fate underneath the snow and ice. He could only imagine what could've been summoned if the Human wasn't trapped beneath the ice. Violent ice storms, global freezing, a sudden, otherwise natural disaster that could drown the entire planet in ice and snow...

It was a terrifying prospect. Cyril glanced at the Human for a moment as the image of a frozen world flashed through his mind. He couldn't begin to guess what this Human could actually do with the Elements when he was put under significant stress, let alone if he lost control.

"Cyril?"

Volteer's voice broke Cyril's train of thought, the feeling of his fears going deeper and deeper into a void of worst-case scenarios suddenly dropping off into it's own sort of void that banished it from his head was an unwelcome relief. The Ice Guardian looked at his friend, his teeth gritting without his input.

"What?"

Volteer jerked a little at Cyril's harsh response, and the Ice Guardian immediately regretted his sudden snap. They flew in some silence before Cyril responded.

"I apologise, Volteer. What is it?"

Volteer looked at Cyril wearily before continuing his thought, managing to send a spike of genuine regret and guilt into the Ice Guardian's heart. No matter what Cyril thought of Volteer, nothing could deny that deep down the two considered each other trusted friends.

"What do you think Terrador is dealing with? If this is indeed what he sent us to find, is there something on the horizon we should fear?"

Volteer asked, some doubt and uncertainty clear in his voice. Cyril sighed, his head swirling once more with the endless questions that he had been mulling over mere minutes before. It took him a second to respond, as the conversation was perhaps the only thing with gravitas that could rival the extinct creature riding on Volteer's back.

"I don't know. I sincerely hope not. I know the chances are slim that something isn't happening, but I hold onto the hope that this... Human, is just a precaution. A failsafe. Malefor was defeated nearly four years ago, the planet has mended itself almost completely and peace is abundant. But, there cannot be good without Evil."

Cyril stated, his own fears threatening to claw their way out of his throat. It wasn't often that he waxed philosophy and it was even more scarce that he voiced his true emotions, but he felt that there wasn't a more fitting time then the present and in the company of a friend. Whether Volteer was the correct choice of friend was debatable.

Volteer nodded solemnly before returning his gaze to the horizon, his response leaking out of his mouth.

"I can certainly agree with that."

Volteer said. And with that, silence fell on the two as they steadily made their way back to Warfang.


The world felt different when he began to return to consciousness. The deathly cold that had held him for eternity was now suddenly gone, replaced with a comforting yet intense warmth. Something heavy laid on his chest, covering him with more of the strange yet not unwelcome warmth he had been brought back to. He felt the absence of his leather armor and trusty coat, his sense of security a little comprised with them gone. Mortifer's scabbard and the sword itself was missing from his back as well, and he felt that something within his psyche was missing as well. The sword had been part of him for so long; it had been his partner, his savior and his weapon for... He actually didn't know how long.

He bathed in the gentle warmth that surrounded him for a moment, keeping his eyes closed as he did. There was a part of him that feared the possibility that if he opened his eyes, the warmth around him would reveal itself to be an illusion and that it was some sick joke pulled on him by his prison. He drew in a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his lungs. It no longer felt as if every breath was drawing in broken glass, but instead it felt like his body was filled with the beautiful and delicious honey of life itself with every careful gasp. He clenched his muscles and he realized that he no longer had to fight to keep them from cramping and freezing in place. A pleasurable calm was allowed to his tired muscles and the warmth that surrounded him messaged them with a gentle temperature that helped to ease his painful memories.

It was then that he gathered the courage to open his eyes. Bright, warm light pricked at his pupils for a moment, forcing him to shut his eyes again. He adjusted his head, allowing the brightness of the light to slowly seep through his eyelids. It helped to adjust his pupils for the next round of bright light, and when he finally let them creep open he beheld a completely different environment than what he had been used to for so long.

He laid in a small, twin bed with a brown, fur blanket covering him. The bed itself sat in a fairly compact room with cream-yellow colored bricks for walls and what looked to be afternoon sunlight streamed through the small window at the end of the bed. A dark wood desk was crammed into the opposite corner of the room, with a candle sitting alone on the top of the desk. Some relief washed over him when he saw that his coat was hung over a small chair pushed into the desk and Mortifer was leaned carefully against the desk itself. With a sigh, he let his head sink back into the pillow that was supporting his head. From what he could tell, the pillow was stuffed with particularly soft feathers.

He let his mind wander as he recalled the events that had brought him here. He remembered the fighting clearly; how the flame of hope in his heart had let him break the chains of his imprisonment. He remembered vividly the feeling of the sheer, almost solar heat that he had summoned and wielded like a sharpened weapon. Nevermind the actual sharpened weapon he had been holding at the time. The contrast between his memories of life-ending cold and the warmth around him brought a profound happiness, along with a feeling of lethargy that he couldn't quite describe.

He found that he questioned who had brought him to this place as he stared upward at the brick ceiling, but he didn't care why. All he knew is that he was endlessly grateful for the almost suffocating warmth that surrounded him.

He held onto that deep gratitude as sleep dragged him back down into the void.


"What in the name of the Ancients where you thinking, Terrador?"

Terrador did his best to remain steadfast as Cyril raged as quietly and coldly as he could. They stood in Terrador's personal office, mostly just a superficial room for him to handle paperwork and such. As the acting leader of the Guardian's, he had a great amount of responsibilities to tend to.

Cyril paced about the room, occasionally lifting a paw to articulate angrily in the air. His face was scrunched into a mixture of fury and a swirl of other emotions that Terrador couldn't read. Volteer stood quietly next to the door, silently watching as Cyril threw his fit.

"I know exactly what I requested of you, Cyril. Try to understand-"

"Understand what?! The reasoning behind bringing a living natural disaster into the heart of the capital?"

Terrador sighed as Cyril cut him off, lifting a paw from the paperwork on his desk and placing it on his forehead. He knew he would have a headache by the end of the night at this rate. As Cyril continued to rant and rave about the room, Terrador felt his patience slip and before his mind could stop his mouth, he snapped.

"To understand that Spyro is missing! He is gone, Cyril. And so is Cynder as well for that matter. What else are supposed to do? We cannot hope to face another Dark Army the size of Malefor's, let alone one of similar proportions or strength. Nor can we curl up behind the defenses of a wall and hope for the best."

The room went silent as Terrador's voice boomed off the walls. The Earth Guardian felt some regret slip into his chest as he beheld Cyril look at him in a mixture of fear, bewilderment and a small amount of rage. Volteer remained off to the side of the conversation, his posture now increasingly withdrawn with Terrador's angry retort.

The three Guardian's remained silent, with Terrador settling back into his place behind his desk and Cyril huffing before taking a seat next to one of the two small tables in the room. A heavy tension hung in the room; two of the three Guardians had said things that later they would come to doubt were the right thing to say, and the only one capable of acting as a mediator remained quiet.

Until Volteer's voice finally echoed off the walls.

"Terrador, are you keeping something from us?"

He asked, his voice gentle and calm. It was a heavy contrast to his usual quick-witted and often incomprehensible speech laced with large words and statistics. Terrador's stone heart softened when he saw the genuine concern in Volteer's eyes and heard the tone of his voice. The Earth Guardian released a quiet, almost silent sigh before reaching over and opening one of the many drawers of his desk and withdrew a small letter with painfully familiar hand writing.

"Yes, I... I have. I believed that you would accuse me of being insane had I shown you this before but... Now that we know the Human is a reality, I feel it is time to be truthful with you both."

He slid the small letter forward, being careful not to accidentally fold the exquisitely made parchment as he moved it across his desk. Cyril and Volteer sent each other a confused and concerned glance before they both stepped forward. Their breaths caught in their throats when they saw the handwriting that Terrador had first laid eyes upon.

It was Ignitus' handwriting. It was an elegant calligraphy that only he could produce, something they hadn't read since the Fire Guardian had bravely given his life to allow Spyro to continue his quest. The paper was a yellowish color with age, but it was a velvety texture that was unique to well made paper built to last over ages. The ink was light and looked hastily written, yet it still retained an elegance and care that was unique to Ignitus.

They quickly read over the letter, their eyes drinking in the handwriting like one would water after a drought. Terrador watched with some concern in his eyes as the two other Guardians scrutinized the letter. The Earth Dragon knew it was Ignitus; there was no other option. No one in Warfang knew Ignitus' handwriting, let alone could forge and entire letter with in it. The paper itself was something that only those with money could afford, and many of those in Warfang wouldn't spend their hard earned savings on lavish paper of all things.

"Terrador, is this?..."

Cyril's choked question pulled Terrador out of his thoughts. With a sigh, he replied.

"Yes. I think that it is Ignitus who sent that letter. We... Never found a body, after all. We only have second hand accounts of his death. Spyro never returned to clarify either. If he has become the Chronicler, and sent this letter in advance, I sincerely believe that there is something waiting to strike. It is best we prepare for that time."

Volteer and Cyril looked on in a mixture of shock and disbelief at their friend; shock because of the possibility that their friend and colleague could actually be alive, and disbelief that Terrador had hidden the last correspondence between the remaining original Guardians and Ignitus himself. Cyril paused for a moment though. He knew that Terrador needed to confirm the letter's claims, otherwise he'd be confronted and accused of being a liar and having fallen for a forgery. But the reality was that the Human did exist, and therefore Ignitus was also out there somewhere, alive.

Cyril sighed and gave in to the hope that had lit itself in his heart. There was cold hard proof that this letter had been truthful, the presence of the Human made that impossible to deny. And it also made the possibility of something horrible, potentially something worse than Malefor, all the more real.

"I believe you, Terrador. And I cannot agree more wholeheartedly. We must prepare for anything that might come. But I cannot say I approve of your methods. You shouldn't have kept this from us."

Cyril said, looking up from the paper and meeting Terrador's steely gaze. Even though the Earth Guardian was a master at maintaining a proud, steadfast front, Cyril could see the relief in his eyes.

"I quite agree. To hide a discovery as pertinent as this... It could've very well put us all in grave danger."

Volteer said, his expression only speaking of concern and worry for his friends. Cyril cracked a small smile knowing that at least one of the Guardians didn't hold a grudge towards Terrador. He couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed by the Earth Guardian's actions, even though he knew that Terrador had gone through with them so he could avoid the worst possible outcome. Cyril nodded in agreement with Volteer before returning his gaze to Terrador, both dragons waiting in expectation of his response.

Terrador remained quiet for a moment before drawing in a deep breath. He looked at the two and nodded gratefully before speaking.

"Thank you. Both of you. I admit that my actions were rash, and motivated by fear more than anything else. From this point forward, I will not hesitate to share such important information."

Terrador said, sincere apology in his words. Cyril nodded slightly, forcing himself to accept the confession of his friends. Part of him was still hurt, but another part of him simply accepted that at least Terrador had the courage to step forward when he recognized his wrongdoings. Volteer nodded as well, a little more ready to accept the apology than Cyril, before answering with his own reply.

"Good. But this doesn't solve our other problem at the moment."

With that, the atmosphere of apology and acceptance disappeared. Like the flip of a switch, the three Guardians were back at preparing for the worst. Terrador's steely gaze returned along with Cyril's cold persona that seemed ready for anything. Volteer remained somewhat excitable and open minded, having long since resigned himself to the thinker of the group.

"Indeed. For now, I feel that we should endeavor to learn what we can about the Human, and hopefully make an alliance with him. Without Spyro, we lack a way to prevent a catastrophe like the last one."

Terrador said, looking over at Cyril and Volteer. Cyril felt some terror creep into his heart at the proposal; there were so many things that could go wrong with it.

"I agree. To be prepared is better than to not have considered at all. Cyril?"

Volteer said, quickly siding with Terrador. The two looked over at him with some expectation in their eyes, and Cyril once more found that the truth wormed it's way out of his lips.

"I... Have my doubts."