Darkness of Dragons
A.N. This is going to be my first attempt at writing a massive chapter, so don't be surprised if it is not of the best quality. I'm going for over 6,000 words. Let's get on to it!
Over the Volcano of the Destroyer, clouds rumbled, with lightning crackling through the night sky. Rain buffeted the orcs, who were forced to train even in the horrible conditions. Wolves cowered in caves, as the rain seemed like gunfire. The volcano let off heat, in a vain attempt to stop the drenching. Lightning struck once more, resonating its thunderous clap off the curved and jagged surfaces. The electricity infused the iodine in the air with static, rain crackling with energy. In the middle, untouched by the forces of nature, and away from the prying eyes of the armies, was a lone dragon.
This dragon was of Flame's age. His fire red scales rippled with scars and burns. His horns which shined silver seemed to glow with each electric blasts. The dragon slipped unseen through the terrain only the devil could make. His blue eyes seemed indistinguishable from the blue lighting that would briefly illuminate his face. His face was one of an enigma. A light scowl painted his features, his wings flapping in the wind. His tailblade, seemingly born of fire, seemed to move in the constant shift of light and wind. With under scales of a pale blue, a jagged fire symbol was seemingly burned into him, painfully turned into a burning scar. At this point, the pain did not bother him, as he watched the progression of the army.
Then, without any rhyme or reason, he leapt from his perch, and flew away, the storm raging around him did not bother him, flying in a few beats of his wings, he took off and glided away, without so much as a whistling sound. The only marker left from his presence, was the slightly shifted gravel from when he lifted off.
On any normal day, the mind of Ember would be a calm and orderly manner, with a few bits of the admiration of Spyro's deeds, but as of recently, these days had become more and more scarce as her obsession, fueled by Envy, would cause her mental state to become unstable, torn between two parts. One which wanted to just forget about it and regain some semblance of normality. The other one telling her to continue on her path, and that Spyro was meant to be hers. Ember looked on as the day slowly passed, feeling anxious was nothing new to her now in this hell of a world. In the first few hours, she had witnessed a war, an explanation of how the Dark Forces were getting stronger, the pressure on her psyche, and she had watched Spyro getting brutally scarred, while she was just trying to keep her barrier up.
Minutes passed, but to her they felt like hours. She did not trust any of these dragons as of recently, and as a response had taken a habit of holding her tailblade to her sides at all times. Dark Dragons did not approach her, because she could see that they did not have the effort to care. This did not lessen her anxiety. What would happen if Spyro, the only hope for the world, died because the doctors didn't care enough?
The two doors opened, and Ember saw Archion and Choryrth amongst the few dragons that funneled out of the room. She waited for them , and they made a straight line towards her, weaving in-between the grouped up dragons.
"Well?" asked Ember, referring to Spyro's condition.
Archion and Choryrth shared a gaze. Normally Ember was able to read expressions like an open book. It was a nice trick that she had learned while trying to find out if she was being deceived or manipulated. Some looks spoke entire conversations, and Ember was trained to interpret their language to an almost inhuman degree. However, Archion and Choryrth facial expressions did not reveal anything, with Ember grunting slightly in annoyance.
"He will be okay, but he will scar." started Archion, "What is more troubling, and more confounding than anything, was that when Spyro was knocked out, his barrier fell down, but for some reason, the darkness did not take over his soul like we had anticipated, but instead seemed to be repelled by his presence. We put up a barrier, just to be safe." he finished, seeing Ember's strained expression.
"He should be up in a couple of hours." continued Choryrth, picking from where his friend left off, "It was a bit much to try his abilities when he might have still been altered from the interdimensional transportation. Spyro will not be able to absorb a life force unconsciously, he must do it while his body is awake. Mind control could force someone to do it, but enough willpower can stop the process. The dragon who's life force is to be taken must also make the conscious decision to give their life. Most dragons in this universe would rather die than live, so finding one is not a problem, but taking one of our better warriors is not an option. We also have to deal with the fact that the dragon has to be in the same position during the ritual, and if someone moves either, the ritual could backfire."
Ember looked past Archion into the Infirmary, and she could see a smallest glimpse of purple scales among other dark dragons, before it was smothered once again by the dragons closing the doors.
"Okay, so what are we going to do?" Asked Ember
Cynder writhed under the massive orc's fierce attack. Her massive mana stores had well increased over the past few days, with her being easily able to summon the Vutha Ixen for attacks. Slipping out from under the orc, she leaped into the shadow of the beast, the former Terror dodged the massive swings. Her fighting style reminded Malefor, who had been supervising her, of what a serpent would look like in the heat of battle. Her dodges allowed her to use her slender frame to weave through the orc's wild swings. Her tailblade struck once, then twice, and then with a finality, she engulfed her tail in pure Vutha Ixen, and brought it down on the orc's head.
The orc was sliced in half, and fell to the ground in lifeless fragmentations. Expecting a new wave of enemies to show up, Cynder did not lose her battle stance and refused to give up any guard. After a few seconds, she grew impatient, and turned to see Malefor leaving the room.
"Where are you going?" asked Cynder.
Malefor looked back at her.
"There is no reason to continue, as while your mana stores have increased, your control has not. You still let out a lot of energy during your uses. Unless you are shooting as a projectile, I should not see any sparks. You should condense it to the point where it would just be a second skin. You are more tired than you realize." He turned away to go work elsewhere.
Cynder groaned at her being ignored, but understood where he was coming from. A few minutes later, she was trying to perfect the technique, but a small movement caught her eyes. Years of being trained as a war machine did well for her reflexes. She could detect the shift in a person's movement, the uncertainty in their eyes, the firmness of their posture, seeing if they breathed in too long to see if they would breath fire. She saw the glint of a golden tailblade coming at her at near blinking speeds.
Tensing her muscles, with the slightest movement, Cynder strafed backwards, avoiding the red and gold blur that zipped past where she had been instants before. The dragon was revealed to be no other than Flame. She could see the hatred in his eyes, the unrelenting coldness in the metallic gleam of his golden irises. Just by looking at him, she could tell he was expecting a battle. Without so much as a hesitation, Flame let out a guttural roar and leaped at Cynder. His Blue fire ignited, and Cynder leapt back when Flame appeared in front of her. With a massive swing of his fist, wind exploded outward as the punch landed. Cynder coughed up spit, but she did not waver. Forcing the pain to subside, she grabbed the still moving Flame, and yanked him over her shoulder.
The briefest of moments of time to gather herself was all that her efforts brought. Yet she still called "Why are you doing this?"
"My parents will be avenged, and no longer will your sickness plague this earth." Flame growled, and Cynder could feel his malice.
She allowed herself a moment to check her chestplate. A small bruise surrounded a fist sized dent. She looked and saw blue. She focused for all she was worth.
Flame snorted in triumph. His blue fire continually blasted the walls, and surrounded the fire with an even stronger flame, ensuring whatever was in there, if it survived, would not get out. Wanting nothing left, he increased his flame.
He then saw something that he only hours later truly perceived. Cynder launched out of his fire stream and socked him straight in the snout, effectively disabling his fires. He skidded back and dropped to his knee. He looked up, and a trickle of blood fell from his nose. Cynder stood before him, encased in a blue fire with black streaks. So that explained how she had survived the flames. Her eyes glowed blue. Flame's eyes narrowed.
"Burn" they each said at the same time. Their auras expanded clashing at the center, each fire struggled to overtake the other. They rushed at each other. Using their fires as home territory, their skin of fires grew weaker when they were in the opposite fire. Flame flew a flurry of punches that landed on Cynder's left flank. She roared in fury and counterattacked. Trading and blocking several blows, the battle seemed to come to a stalemate. During that time, Cynder's rage died down, but still kept her aggressiveness, and gained a small advantage with precision. Flame launched at her. She looked at it come.
"I'm sorry Flame, but this is the truth." She let out her hand, and it hit it's spot on Flame's head. Her hand glowed red, the sign of Fear. Flame's fire disappeared, as his mind was thrown into Cynder's memory.
16 Years Ago
The Terror of the Skies had been terrorizing the Fire Kingdom, Cynder had given up fighting it at this point. The Terror had just slew a married couple. She could tell by how they fought together, the Terror was looking through the wreckage, and saw a small hatchling. Red with stubbly golden horns, trying to wake it's mother, as she lay on her side in a pool of her own blood.
"We need that one. Bring him here, so we may turn him into a terror." The Dark Master's voice echoed in her head.
"NO!" Cynder fought back with all she could muster. "I won't let another go through my pain!"
The Terror was seemingly unresponsive, as she grabbed the hatchling, and started to fly off.
"STOP!" Cynder cried, "HE'S JUST A KID!"
The Terror faltered, as her paws started to become indescribably hot. The small hatchling was starting to turn blue, waving its arms to get back to it's mother. Soon, the general of Malefor's forces dropped the kid, and soon he was falling toward the sharp spikes that surrounded the fire kingdom. Cynder focused all her effort, and managed to make the terror slap the hatchling with her wings, and he was hit sideways, and fell onto a mattress that had somehow survived the fire. She was about to go back for it, when she was distracted by the army of the Fire Kingdom coming at her.
The terror clenched down, cutting Cynder off once again.
For many moments, the room was silent. No sounds escaped the mouths of the two dragons, and the only sounds that punctuated the silence, were the flames of their brief battle, fizzling out with no mana left to fuel them. Flame's eyes had widened, and his mouth as open as a broken dam. His body had seemingly gone slack, all tension removed. Cynder wore a face of enigma. Her expression remained passive, yet her eyes looked to Flame in analyzation.
"No..."
The sound pierced the silence like a knife. The word slowly uttered from Flame's mouth. His word dropped like a 10 ton load of bricks. His voice was so thick with betrayal and sadness, Cynder could cut it with her talons. In Flame's mind, he felt like years of his life were being stripped away. Soon, he felt like he was that small red dragon. He could feel the effort that Cynder had put through to save him, even though she didn't know who he was. That one fact, the singular notion that Cynder had ruined his life, was no longer there. Like the base of a building, the grain of sand inside a pearl, that fact made him who he was. Now that that support in his life was gone, now he felt like he had lost a leg that had always been there, holding him up.
Cynder watched in surprise as Flame seemed to fall under his own weight. His wings curled into him, and he began to let tears escape, he was as vulnerable as the little hatchling from so long ago. Then, he remembered what he had done to Cynder over the past few days. His guilt caught up to him. His actions, his life, his purpose, his reason for continuing his training.
"I'm sorry..."
Cynder raised a paw to comfort him, but it was slapped away, as Flame began to run. Cynder tried to catch up but he quickly took to the skies. She tried to find him, but he rapidly lost her in the clouds. Seeing as she could do nothing she turned and retreated back to the building. Flame was alone. His life crumbled around him.
Pain.
Spyro felt nothing but that. He had barely reached a scrape of consciousness, and a red hot searing sensation roared it's way into his nervous system. Knocking him out again. A few hours later, he had recovered enough to keep himself awake through the burn of his wounds. He then decided to look into his surroundings. He was in a large room, dozens of beds were lined up in neat rows, however they were made out of a purple-ish material for the frame. He took in the dragons that surrounded him, they all wore black robes, and were applying bandages over his chestplate and neck. Spyro wondered why they were doing that, but then he remembered his fight with Archion. He remembered the horrible sensation of scales splitting beneath the talons and claws.
One of the dragons seemed to acknowledge him waking and motioned with his left front leg. The faces of those around him seemed to look at him with interest. Spyro shifted himself so that he was sitting upwards. Immediately a burst of pain fell from his right side. A red crystal was administered, and the pain subsided. The dragons carefully took away the bandages, and Spyro saw what was causing him the pain of his life. Three lacerations ran around his right eye, to around his neck, to across his chest. Mottled pink and black flesh had formed over the scar, and over his chest, gold plates were noticeably thinner. Still strong, but brittle. Spyro shifted around, and was relieved to see that the previous burst of pain seemed to be the last of the bunch.
The doctors were suddenly called to by another doctor that had another one in critical condition from what was shouted, and they rushed over there. Spyro looked to his side, and saw another dark dragon getting to his feet. He was standing over the bed of another one, and a monitor next to him, magic he presumed, had a line that was completely flat, and with his stomach dropping, Spyro realized that this dragon, no dragoness, was dead. The dragon standing had tears rolling down his face.
"Hello?"
Spyro bravely attempted to talk to the standing dragon, and he registered someone was speaking to him.
"Are you speaking to me?" he responded.
"Yes, umm, who was that?"
Spyro saw several more tears leak from his eyes. The dragon sat down next to him.
"That was my mate, Tiamat."
Spyro felt horrible for bringing it up with him.
"I'm so sorry."
The dragon looked to him. Spyro properly registered his features. He was about the size Malefor was at at this point in time, he had serrated horns going down the length of his body, and he had frills going outward on his face and down his body, although there were some places where find his been sliced or ripped apart. His wings were tattered and weathered. His eyes were ones of pale yellow, yet they seemed dark gold at this point, Horns shot out with his frills in a triangular shape, pointing upwards. His scales, like many others, bore a dark black. His tailblade was that of an axe head. His horns and tail were a dark chrome color.
"It is very saddening indeed. She was my last person left in my life. My father died in war, my mother died during my birth, my brother was killed in a battle, my foster parents died in an accident with a volcano, and my mate died due to an ambush."
Spyro felt very upset, knowing he could not stop any of these things from happening.
"May I know your name little one?" asked the dragon.
"Oh, umm, it's Spyro, umm.."
"My name is Garyx."
"Unusual name."
"Think about it this way, an unusual name for you is a normal way for us."
"So, complicated names are normal here?"
Garyx surprisingly laughed at that comment. For him, a light was shining in his darkness that had encompassed his life.
"Thanks. I hope we see each other again." he said before leaving.
Spyro Felt happy, knowing he had lessened someone's pain.
Ember looked at the two dark dragons with anticipation. Looking between the two for an answer, her patience started to roll thin. They had not given an answer for a minute, and she was starting to get irritated over them keeping information from her.
"Listen," Archion started, "We want to help, but even though we want to avoid him killing indirectly one of our dragons, we see no other alternative, so we are going to have to give him a dragon who is already dying. We really want to avoid that, but sometimes, we have no choice in the matter. One dragon is a small price to pay in order to end a war."
Ember winced, knowing Spyro would not be happy about this. Even though she knew this was the only way in order to stop the Dark Master, she still knew Spyro had a code against killing. She could see that Archion and Choryrth were uncomfortable about this as well, considering they had basically made a psychic connection between them and Spyro, having the same ideals as him through that link.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flash of purple scales undulating among the black scales that were so common in this realm. Archion and Choryrth noticed her distracted gaze and followed it, and saw Spyro weaving his way through the crowd to get to them. Archion noticed that his barrier was up, which was reaffirming. Although he was curious about why he had not been affected when his barrier had dropped. As he was pondering the ramifications of this, Spyro had gotten his way towards them. Ember had winced when she saw the fullest extent of the scar. In a way it made him look hardier, battered, and stronger than he ever had before. Archion led them away to the same place they had trained in before, with the difference that there were a couple more dragons around, not really paying them any attention.
"Okay, first thing, I want to apologize for what I did to you Spyro" said Archion, "But when you were knocked out, your barrier fell, but you did not become corrupted. I would like to see if that was luck, or something else. Slowly drop the barrier layer by layer, so if it is a fluke, we can stop the process immediately." Spyro nodded and they started the process.
Spyro calmed his mind. The first layer went pretty easily, and Archion noted that there was no change in Spyro's movements. He seemed the same. He removed the next layer, and he saw Spyro give out a small shiver. There were 3 more layers to go. Spyro let the next one fall, and he felt the cold of the darkness infested air around him hissed like a whispering wind. His scales were mere millimeters from the air around him. He dropped his second to last layer, and he felt a burst of cold air around him, not much to hurt, but enough to give him pause. Archion took heavy notes of this, but did not say anything as it did not seem dangerous at the moment. Spyro let his eyes up and looked at Archion for confirmation to continue, and he let back a cold glare of reaffirmation. Spyro nodded and let his final barrier fall. A freezing sensation wrapped around his body, and the darkness seemed to leech into his skin. Ember was about to rush in to help, but Archion raised a paw.
"Hold on."
Ember did not know what he meant, but knew it was probably for the best that she listen to him.
Spyro continued to shiver, but it was noticeably less than a moment ago. His scales turned into a dark shade of purple, almost reflecting what a younger Dark Master may have looked like. As he got more used to the freezing, he began to pull out of his convulsed form. He began to stand up, and he looked to Archion. He let out a sigh of relief. Spyro was able to let his barrier down, which was good, as the power drain would actually eventually get to him and he would become a liability in a fight. A power drain such as that is small, but eventually would lead to a quicker time to dry out mana resources. The power of Spyro would eventually fail and in a battle against a tough opponent, this could be a fatal error. Archion nodded to his partner in confirmation that this was actually happening. He smirked and looked to Spyro, who had now been able to stand up with a more defines state of mind, now being able to exist in both worlds without needing to constantly drain his mana and magic. Then, everything went to hell.
Spyro could not tell what came first. The walls collapsing in, or the lightning striking down. Spyro was able to dodge, but others were not as lucky. He saw several dragons getting struck down. Archion and Choryrth made a few complex movements with their hands and sent up a shield that protected the rest of them. He saw lots of orcs and some dragons break through and start attacking. At this, several legions of dark dragons from their side went forward to combat the new threats. He vaguely felt Archion pulling him towards the fortress and out of sight. Only when they had been running for a minute did Spyro ask, "Where are we going?"
"We need to get you a weapon. All of those out there have weapons that could slice you in half with ease. You need to be protected."
Spyro felt a bit insulted that he was thought of as fragile. but he knew that those weapons would need to have a form of protection against them. Running down, he saw many others going towards the fight, including Garyx. He did not have the ability to say hello, as Archion pulled him towards the armory. Spyro ran into a crowded room that was quickly filtering out with new weapons in the hands of soldiers. Soon after the room cleared up a bit, archon directed him to the weapons, and on the wall lay weapons of all types and sizes. Spyro's eye caught a small triangular piece of Crystal, that seemed left out from the other deadly weapons that surrounded it.
"What is that?" He asked, gesturing to the strange triangle.
"I honestly don't know. I've only just noticed it now. I don't know what it does, but let's move along. We need armor and weapons." Archion replied turning to some other axes and such, but Spyro reached out to take the Triangle. As soon as he touched it, it flew forward, and split. Breaking off into two sections, they wrapped around his horns, and gave them a more metallic look, but it quickly molded into his signature orange. Spyro tried to get it off, but it only felt like trying to pull his own horns off. He thought that this was useless, until he wished he had some sort of armor. The Crystals glowed and in several tendrils of purple and blue crystal shot out of his horns, and Archion had turned around with a weapon, but then watched in awe as the crystals worked their way around Spyro, interlocking with each other as a large set of armor. It wrapped around his legs, arms, chest, tail, wings, and fit nicely around his head, leaving transparent bits of crystal for his eyes to see.
"Woah." Archion said, struggling for words for the first time.
"I think this would be sufficient." responded Spyro. The armor was surprisingly light, it did not feel uncomfortable at all. Spyro walked forward, and took what looked like a standard Hammer-Axe with a long handle. The Weapon felt heavy, but very right in his hands. Archion finished suiting himself as soon as he got over his shock, and sped outward with Spyro in tow. Spyro roared in battle as he crashed into a legion of orc's. Jumping to his wrathful state, he felt comfortable that his armor would protect him from any counter attacks. Archion and Choryrth were holding back, seeing if any dragon were falling so that they could perform the transference of power. Yet, they did not see any dragons falling. While this would normally be a good thing, they needed a person to perform the transfer.
A roar came from the back, as they saw the massive dragon. He towered over them. Spyro heard this roar of challenge, and turned, only to be immediately taken aback. The dragon was the same one from earlier. The yellow in his eyes glowed murderously as he started to tear through the defenses of the other side. Blood splattered the ground as many dragons tried to stop him, but he did not flinch.
Spyro broke out of his shock and instantly went into Semi Perfection, knowing anything less than his all would not be enough. He threw himself forward and knocked the dragon backward. Slamming the blunt end of his weapon to his head, he expected to knock him out, putting all his force into the strike.
He was barely stunned. The dragon retaliated with his fist. Slamming Spyro back, the material that made up his armor shattered. The armor picked the pieces up and repaired, but Spyro was still left dizzy by the impact. It was enough for the Dark Dragon to slam him to the ground, Spyro pinned under his weight.
"Hello, young dragon." the dark dragon said with a growl, "because you were able to hit me, I will give you the name of your soon to be killer." Spyro shuddered. His very tone sent spikes of fear rippling through Spyro's being. He dreaded the answer as the blade on the dark dragon raised.
"Loerchik." he said as he tensed his blade forward, but was suddenly knocked aside by another indistinguishable form. The two dragons grappled. Sparks from the clashes flew as their tail blades and claws connected. Spyro drew a breath as he realized who it was that was fighting him.
It was Garyx.
The elder dragon blocked a strike from Loerchik, and went in for his head, but he pushed forward. Loerchik headbutted him with his head, and it sent Garyx off balance, and at that point, a single moment that seemed to last for an eternity, Spyro watched Loerchik spring forward, tailblade fully extended, and sliced it's way into the dragon Spyro had met not a hour ago.
Garyx fell.
Blood fell from the wound, Spyro cried out in rage as he caught him and brought him down. Setting him down on his back, other dragons continued to fight the battle around him. Archion caught sight of Spyro bringing Garyx down and flew to them. Using magic, circles appeared around them, and Spyro was starting to check Garyx's fading pulse in his arm, and the circle began to glow, and Spyro felt himself pulling in power from Garyx. He immediately let go and the glowing stopped. He took note of Archion.
"What are you doing? Get a healer! Somebody!" he cried out in desperation, meanwhile, Garyx's breathing continued to slow.
"Spyro, it is time to perform the ritual. He is beyond hope. I'm sorry."
"NO! I REFUSE TO TAKE HIS LI-" Spyro roared before stopping. A weird purple glow emanated from his eyes, and Archion held a paw with the same color of purple.
"I'm sorry Spyro." he said before he shut out all other thought. Using his power and link with Spyro, he had Spyro assume the same position, as Garyx's life force restarted to seep into Spyro.
In his mind, Spyro felt like he was jolted out of the driver seat so to speak. His mind form fell back from where his eyes looked. He looked around fearfully, but got a hold of himself. He saw what his body was doing, and he felt the power that was coming from it. Shadowy silhouettes of Archion and Choryrth blocked him from getting back in control.
"NO! PLEASE! STOP! I DON'T WANT HIM TO DIE! PLEASE! PLEASE STOP! I CAN'T DO THIS!" Spyro cried out in desperation and despair as he tried to get past the two who were blocking his path. Archion and Choryrth noticed it became harder and harder to contain Spyro as the ritual progressed. As he was growing in power his spirit became more mentally powerful as well. They pushed him as far out as they could before Spyro forced them out of his mind, and an instant after he gained control, Garyx let out a final sigh.
Garyx was dead.
Spyro looked on in horror. He tried with all his might to reverse the process, to undo what he had been forced to do. Tears shed as even though he had not known him for more than a day, he still knew that this was no way for a dragon to die. Sorrow and guilt racked his form. The emotions swirled around his psyche in a hurricane of emotions and thought. The swirling emotions twisted into rage. Spyro felt his power like a torrent of emotion and strength, locked behind a fragile gate, and he had the key. Unlocking it, he felt more power than he had flow into him, but strangely he did not feel any different. The power was not yet available to him yet, he didn't have the proper training to utilize them effectively.
A roar jolted him back to reality, and he saw many knocked out dragons, and a lot of dust from destroyed monsters. Loerchik roared in defiance, and Archion and Choryrth were drained of power from the ritual. Spyro was all alone. He tried to rush to Loerchik, but he simply smirked. Letting out a large roar, a wave of darkness washed toward Spyro, completely engulfing him in Darkness.
Back at the White Isle, Ignitus was poring over as many books as he could. He was researching why Spyro had had such a unique reaction to that mist. Last he had checked, it never did that to mortals. Mortals were not considerable to it's consciousness. Only the gods themselves seemed to have that strange occurrence. Since Spyro had no divine power that he could see. As a result, it should not have happened. He looked through thousands of books and records over which there were millions of words, which he used his Chronicler powers in order to read them at such speed.
Out of the corner of his power enhanced sight, he caught a small text that had an illustration of a dragon that had purple swirls around him. It was only a vague outline, so he could not deduce the actual dragon's color or features. He started reading. The swirls were connected to several different parts of his body. Two emanated from his arms, specifically the fists were covered in purple, and a line going up to his elbows left the swirling smoke. Another two came from his horns, from the back, so that it looked like flags hanging from the horns. Similar lines on his legs showed as well, and they were all emanating purple smoke. His tail let out a final one, and they all swirled around him, taking on a purple and light mixture, but never meshing together.
He looked to the top of the page, and it read, "There is a dragon that holds power beyond anything one has ever seen. Only surpassed by the Infinitum Mortale or his siblings if any exist, a dragon of this type has exceeded physical, mental, and magical prowess. Seemingly borne of godly power, the strength of any person is not to be underestimated. In addition to the dragon's god like strength and magic, the said person will also have extreme pain tolerance, healing if given the right training, and enhanced mana storages. Conducted of several studies, there seems to be no physical limit to their magic potential. However, they are extremely rare. The term that is generally used to describe these beings, is knows as Ancestrals. They are the result of", Ignitus stopped at those next words. They explained so much, yet made absolute mayhem of everything that Ignitus thought he knew about Spyro. It was explained. How Spyro had raised in power so quickly. How he was able to defeat Cynder, contain the Dark Power in the Well of Souls, defeat the Dark Master, open the realm border in his match with Kratom, and why the smoke had drawn near him in his brief contact.
"His...parents. They...are...
In the Dark Realm, Spyro sparked white and purple...
"Ancestors." Ignitus finished.
Thanks for Reading, BOY THIS WAS TOUGH.
Imma take a break for a while after getting this massive bit out. I'm going to try to make this the new standard for chapters, but that means they will probably be going out less often. I try to do my best, but my finals are coming up. So I might not post for a while, but summer is coming up, so I might get another chapter, just don't get your hopes up. PEACE OUT!
