A Beckoning Bell
Author's note: Here it is! The latest installment for AOA. (Yay, I got a story abbreviation already) This chapter was very fun to write. I love creating this world for you guys and I intend to keep giving more of it to you. To have a song chosen for this chapters theme should you choose to listen to it. You don't even have to play it while reading, just give it a listen should you think of it.
Longing to Know: Alex Roe
This channel makes amazing music and I highly recommend giving him a listen if you enjoy any kind of remixes or Bloodsouls soundtracks. With no more distractions, i release you.
Flashback
Waves crashed against sea stacks as the tides rolled in. Trees decorated the mountainside of what was the beginning of a nearly endless mountain range. It was roughly midnight with the moon at its peak, its magnificent bright rays dancing across damp wet stone. However, screams and roars conflicted the evening's beautiful picture it had painted. Explosions muffled by stone rumbled through the regal walls of a beautiful cathedral.
Inside, the main hall was in chaos, dragons fiercely engaged in combat with each other. Species long rivals fought with tooth, claw and breath. It was light against dark, hate and disarray against balance and order. Confined to a room in battle where no winner could proclaim victory, the lines between ally and enemy were blurred.
A boulder soared over Moldrar's head, shattering as it crashed against a column. The support toppled, crushing a number of dragons that had been unlucky enough to be in its way.
Stumbling, Moldrar looked to his left and fired off a lightning lance that sent a fear dragoness twitching to the ground. Spinning around he caught a glimpse of his leader fighting off another dragon, whom he couldn't be sure. They were at the far end of the hall, other dragons fighting around them.
Pushing towards her, he fired off another lance into the chest of a shadow drake that charged him; the drake's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he tumbled to the stone floor rigidly.
Fire flashed across the ground, scorching a pair of poison drake's and dragoness's paws before climbing upwards. Their screams filled Moldrar's ears as they burned alive. He looked back up to focus on the form of two dragoness's locked head to head.
He was pinned to the ground from the sudden pressure of a drake crashing into him, a dark growl vibrating next to his ear. His wings and paws were held to the ground, a tail blade held in his mouth inhibiting his movement; he was helpless.
"You're going to watch," a familiar and menacing voice boasted, words messy and sputtered as if he were spitting them at him.
All he could do was helplessly struggle against his captors hold on him. He had to do something.
"Elies-!" His words were cut short as his tongue was severed from his mouth, blood filling his throat and a bitter smell filling his nostrils. He gagged, crimson spattering against the ground.
The long muscle of a tail quickly wrapped around his throat, tightening until he was forced to claw at the ground and flap his wings against his attacker. Blood filled his esophagus, jaw opening and closing as he desperately tried to push himself away.
His neck burned, the inside boiling like scalding water had been forced down his throat. Next, all he could feel was the pressure around his neck; his head swam.
Darkness crowded the corners of his vision, slowly growing until there wasn't nothing left to see, the last glimpses of life and reality fading to be replaced with cold and black.
As the mighty fell...
...The Wicked Rose...
End flashback
Eliesia was startled from her day dream, paws shaking unsteadily in the wilting grass. Faded leaves fell from the tree tops, fluttering around her nose and body; they drifted hopelessly through the woods.
The two dragons beside her looked to her warily before glancing over and at each other. Walking in sync the three led a trail of stragglers, wandering aimlessly through the forest.
Heads hung low, tears of salt and blood trickled down to fall and nestle in the soot covered grass. The ragged and faltering breaths of defeated and aimless dragons was the most audible sound in the forest; they were lost.
Purposely slowing her pace, Cynder meandered her way to Spyro; they proceeded to walk side by side.
"I have too many questions." Her voice carried a lilt, holding back tears.
Eyes flickering to glance at her absently, Spyro nodded his head falteringly; he swallowed, coating his dry throat.
"I know… I'm sure they'll be answered."
Spyro's voice didn't fill her with confidence. If anything he sounded more terrified than her.
Instead of looking to his eyes, she looked to his scars.
Blood trickled from a gash along his leg, following the path of muscle and tendon until it reached his paw, then to soil. Teeth marks racked his throat while claw slashes decorated his chest. His face looked frail, bruised and solemn.
"What we aren't told, we'll learn." Spyro tried to smile.
Stray rays of moonlight filtered through the forest roof, long flickering shadows of leaves and branches cascaded across ash smothered scales.
"It's still night… How? We've been walking for too long."
There was an echo of murmurs from behind as civilian also notice her observation; she had spoken too loudly.
Cringing as she looked to the refugees and back, Cynder stumbled. Paw and talon colliding against rock; she barely caught herself.
"It must only feel that way." Spyros statement didn't sound reassuring. It only served to remind everyone what they had endured.
It was at this moment that Eliesia spoke up.
"No. The pale moon has risen and will hang in the sky until the undead have succeeded. This isn't your world anymore."
Cynder couldn't stop the flare of anger that suddenly pulsed through her.
"So it's yours?" Her paws drew her closer to the foreboding stranger, mouth drawn and eyebrows angled: a challenge that reconciled no prominent reaction.
The anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, snout and expression loosening to a defeated frown. It was futile to exaggerate.
"We will only survive through sacrifice."
Spyro stepped forward this time, gesturing for Cynder to fall back.
"Sacrifice is out of the question. We don't risk lives."
Eliesia gave a half raised eyeridge, looking to the small herd of dragons behind him.
"The choice isn't yours. However… lives weren't necessarily what I was referring to."
Spyro's face contorted, front left paw pulling back as his head and neck recoiled slightly.
"Then what else would you have us sacrifice?"
Her expression never changed, face unwaveringly cold and distant; her stoicism was staggering.
"Your comfort, your livelihood, your precious innocence and your…" She glanced at him sharply from the side. "Idealism."
The truths crowded Spyro's shoulders and conscience. Legs quaking and gaze falling, the purple drake felt helpless, alone even. The dragoness before him seemed to know so much, how?
What did she know of sacrifice? His gaze flicked to the shoulders and back of the dragoness before him. The question wasn't malicious, but genuine wonder. What was she hiding?
A bell tolled in the distance. Spyro and Cynder's head jerked, looking to one another before staring in the direction of the disrupting sound.
"Is that a-?" Cynder held her hopes, if only minimally.
"I think it is." Spyro interrupted.
Eliesia looked to the two protectors confusedly, glancing over the crowd to see the same lost looks on the survivors. This time there was something being withheld from her; she didn't like it.
"Everyone. Follow us." Cynder's stern voice couldn't hide the small hint of hope that had risen within her.
The two companions set off at a brisk pace into the foliage, pushing past rotten branches and wilted leaves; they grew more distant with passing moments. Suddenly one brave follower lead another, a trail of dragons following in the same direction until it was only Eliesia left alone.
Eyes forlorn, she craned her head in the direction of the bell. Taking one step lead to another until she was shoulder high in leaves and shrubbery. Luckily the forest ceiling grew taller, allowing her to raise her head more freely.
Murmurs began to reach her ears. The shuffling of paws and bell chimes dangling in the wind had her quickening her pace. The forest ceiling seemed to grow with every step until it eventually opened up into a massive pocket, leaves and branches forming a large wildlife dome that towered above a large stone structure. Shimmering rays of moonlight shrouded the air and construct before her; a Cathedral.
A field of elegant white petals flowers flourished at the foot of the great chapel, decoratively carven tombstones scattered across the grounds, a few occasionally grouping together. Perhaps a family buried with one another.
For a brief moment she felt alive, heart beating before falling silent once again. Tears brimmed her lower lids before they were blinked away.
A bell atop the large tower toled, the ringing echoing through the night as iron struck iron. The refugees gathered around the entryway, old and eroded wooden doors slowly opening in a loud cacophony of rumbles and creaks. A solitary body stood in the entrance; an frail wolf in rotten robes.
Spyro hesitantly stepped forward, kicking up ethereal dust with every pawstep; it shimmered and waved in the moonlight.
"Welcome Warfang, to Odeum of Ash." the stranger spoke. "I am an emissary, sent to aid you in your tiresome journey. Heeehe he he." The wolf eyed Spyro and Cynder, a gleam in his eye.
Dragons murmured anxiously, the nervous shuffling of ps and scales echoing through the silent field. Hatchlings clung to their mother fathers, whispering questions that no parent should have to answer. 'When can I sleep? When will we eat? are we safe? Why can't we find a new home?' Eliesia felt a twang of sympathy, hardened features softening as her masked slipped.
"You're safe, go inside and collect yourselves," Eliesia interrupted from behind, drawing numerous confused stares.
Spyro and Cynder looked to her, eyes bewildered and questioning. Did she know this wolf? Did they? He felt too familiar.
Dragons slowly and hesitantly crept towards the strange wolf before disappearing into the newly discovered shelter; the three leading dragons remained outside. There was something familiar about this unfamiliar face. Neither Spyro nor Cynder could shake the feeling.
"You all have endured a frightful evening. You are safe here." The wolf gestured with frailty, hand held out to the side and towards the door while his other dipped in a messy bow.
Cynder stepped through first, disappearing into the temple. Spyro was second, taking a moment to regard the Wolf before crossing the threshold. Eliesia gave a cold stare, eyeing the familiar stranger before standing up to enter.
Warmth washed over the dragons as they entered, a sweet smelling aroma wafting through the air as they entered, moonlight filtering through the doorway behind them and into the cathedral.
They pulled into a large room lit by candlelight, petal covered pillars rising up to secure a cathedral-esque ceiling, lanterns dangling sparsely, each one at different heights than the rest. Old pottery topped with what appeared to be a discolored wax and burning candles crowded every corner of the church; every dark shadow was covered in soothing orange glows. Old embroidered rags and rugs dangled on thin wires strung from wall to wall and pillar to pillar; more covered the ground.
Spyro and Cynder wandered aimlessly, head spinning on a swivel as they took everything in with agape jaws.
Altars of candles and vases lined the far left wall while stray racks of herbs and meat covered the right. A stone staircase rose up in the back, leading to an balcony floor. A collection of messily stacked books and dusty bookshelves crowded the floor and cobbled sidings, a library that could have rivaled Aquaria's.
Spyro took time to admire the atmosphere, taking note of the relaxed and calm faces of the dragons of Warfang.
The room was a well furnished and organized if not for a few stray contradictions to the state of being. It's furnishings were atypical and distinguished in contrast to much of what you might compare it to. Spyro and Cynder could almost visualize everything in its prime: finely crafted steeples, lecterns, altars, benches, and stools as well as carven stone, embroidered ornamental walls and stained glass.
The church was only a shadow of its former past but was beautiful nonetheless. Cynder was the first to speak.
"This place is amazing." She looked back to Spyro, a smile threatening to grace her lips.
"It really is." Spyro nodded in agreement.
Both dragons couldn't help but notice that Eliesia had been eerily quiet since entering, more so than usual. Looking back at her they could have safely assumed she had seen the spirit of an ancient from her expression. Her eyes grew watery, wings drooping loosely on the floor… Until she realized she had others looking at her. She steeled her nerves and put on a brave face, mask sliding across her expression.
Without another word she turned back the entrance, setting off at a brisk pace and taking her leave.
"Hey-" Spyro made to go after her but was stopped by the old wolf stepping in front of him.
"Let her be. She is a haunted soul with a haunted past." He spoke wisely, tapping his cane against the cobblestone and carpet. "Let us speak. I have set a spot aside for you at the head of the church." He pointed his cane over his shoulder and towards the front of the room for emphasis.
A great statue of a dragon loomed over a grey stone altar, a goblet centerpiece resting on a decorative cloth surrounded by melted candles. A small collection of vases surrounded the foot of the solid stone table.
Cynder immediately recognized the vases as the ones the cheetah had given her hours earlier that same evening.
"How did you-?" Her voice hitched in her throat as she turned around to face an aged cheetah in place of the wolf.
"Looks can be deceiving…" He answered in the same voice. "I took it upon myself to keep a close eye on all three of you since your arrival at Warfang." He gave a wheezing laugh, voice cracking and coughing.
"Three? You watched over me? I don't remember you," Spyro interjected.
No sooner had he spoken the words, a cloud of smoke enveloped the cheetah before them, quickly dissapaiting to reveal a frazzled old pantheress.
"Your eyes deceive you but your mind… no no no… does not." He gave a cackling laugh, reverting back to his canine form. "Tell me Spyro… Why did you sing to the audience?"
Spyro shifted, straightening his back; he didn't seem to be comfortable with the question. Why?
"I try to sing every year at the event. At least every year since Cyril died." His answer was simple, voice firm and finite. However, there was a sadness in his voice as he spoke the fallen guardians name; Cyril had always appreciated music.
The wolf nodded, humming to himself and smacking his lips to wet his mouth.
"I see… but why did I find you at the gardens instead of the theatre, stage fright?"
Spyro gave a nervous glance between the canine and Cynder, obviously uncomfortable with being interrogated.
"I… had planned to not sing this year. Is this really important right now?" His face seemed flustered and hot, talons scratching the stone beneath him. He seemed incredulous that now of all times was he to talk about such a subject so lightly.
"Everything is of importance… to me. Heeheehee… Now then, why do you sing every year?" The wolf's cane clacked against the side of the altar, making sure he had both dragons attention.
Cynder closely watched the purple dragon beside her, head leaning forward ever so slightly. She watched the drake suppressed a snarl, lip twitching slightly as he stared at the wolf.
"I sang because… should Cynder ever come back to Warfang…" He looked to the ground, shaking his head. " Should she ever come home, she could find me."
Cynder felt her heart shatter, the thought of Spyro returning to Warfang every year for her brought tears to her eyes. Why had she stayed away for so long? Even now he still didn't know why she left…
However, the time for thoughts was short and there were other things to be discussed with this wise stranger.
"The two of you share a story… there should be no secrets between you," The wolf spoke wisely, gesturing his cane between the drake and dragoness.
Both dragons looked to each other, glancing curiously at the wolf in front of them, neither enjoyed the sense of unease they felt around him.
"Who are you," Spyro questioned.
The wolf cackled.
"They call me Amphious."
"You knew what was going to happen didn't you?" Cynder's voice almost sounded accusatory, threatening. "You could have warned us."
"Ah… but would you have believed an old and maddened peasant like I?"
Cynder stopped, agitation fading. He wasn't wrong. Spyro took this time to address the statue in behind the altar.
"This cathedral… has a statue of-"
"Moldrar The Silenced." Amphious chuckled, steadily turning into a wheeze. "Speed could not save him where fear and darkness prowl." More laughter.
"Who was he," Spyro questioned.
"A shining knight in the cathedral age, an ever model gentleman in the face of a murderous world. He hee he." The wolf seemed to suffer from mania. "This was his temple."
The canis lupus lowered himself to his haunches, resting his legs as he sat in a stool beside the altar, fingers deftly tracing the rim of the silver chalice. The dragons chose to do the same, laying down on the comforting carpet strewn haphazardly beneath them.
Cynder looked to the doorway on the southern wall the church, catching a glimpse of Eliesia over Spyro's shoulder. She had questions.
"Who is she?"
Amphious hummed happily, cane tapping wildly on the stone as if he was pleased to be asked the question.
"A relic… The undead vestige of an age long forgotten. She will be the ember to ignite the flame of your salvation."
The two dragons admired her for several silent moments. She sat in a patch of white petals in front of the archway, moon dust galavanting through the air around her. She held her lips tightly, eyes closed as she hummed a somber melody that neither of them were familiar with.
"What's happening? Why is this happening?" It was Spyros turn to ask a question.
Spyro shifted anxiously, carpet shuffling underneath his weight as he moved his body to a more comfortable position.
"A weight has been lifted from the cosmic balance, allowing mad undead to claw their way into your world. Only she can bring the balance back to its proper scale..." The wolf answered vaguely, pointing the cane in the direction of Eliesia. "With the help of you two?"
Cynder huffed, shaking her head dismissively.
"I don't trust her stoicism."
The canine 'tisked' his teeth, leaning closer to the ebony dragoness, wooden cane shaking unsteadily beneath his weight.
"Those who are heartless once cared too much," he spoke wisely.
She gave a finale glance to the maroon dragoness outside before casting her gaze in an indistinct direction, switching which paw rested across the other.
Amphious suddenly stood, taking the opportunity to leave, cane tapping against the stone with every pawstep. The two were finally left in peace once the wolf disappeared behind a hanging curtain of sewn together cloth that suggested an attempt at privacy.
Cynder looked to Spyro, hoping to meet a reassuring gaze but instead found his gaze fixed intently on the dragoness outside. Her heart ached for a moment, eyes darting across the ground as she search for her words.
"Can we trust them?"
There was a long moment of silence, the distant snoring and quiet murmurs of drowsy dragons barely audible over the rush of wind across the church mouth. She could hear his chest and scales tighten with every breath, smoke drifting up from his nostrils.
Spyro turned to gaze up at the large drake statue in front of him.
"I don't know… All I know is that our answers are here, with them."
Both dragons rested their heads against the soft and inviting rugs that lay beneath them, eyes slowly drifting to a close.
Author's note: Thank you guys so much for reading, it's such a wonderful experience to make something that others can enjoy. I read every one of your reviews and PMs. I promise to keep supplying new chapters and content for you guys and I can't wait to see what you guys think about it.
Until next time.