This is amazing! Thank-you to everyone who read and responded to Chapter two, I hadn't expected so much of a response! It seems that I'm doing at lest something right, now I just need to work out what I did so that I can do more of it for you :)

Story now:

Time passed in a blur, Cynder and Spyro were swept along by a jubilant crowd of triumphant dragons and moles. Some healers eventually extracted them from the celebration and had Spyro tended to. A pair of red dragonesses visited them. One looked at the distance vaguely and danced slowly on the spot; the other, presumably the dragon Magmar's second in command, surrendered on behalf of the fire king on account of him being comatose and unable to do so personally. Cynder had no idea what they had said, but she remembered the way Spyro had nodded in acceptance as he thanked the two dragons, and then he had looked at her and given her a slightly dizzy smile, she remembered that perfectly.

While Spyro was examined the healers decided for whatever strange reason to check up on Cynder too, and they pronounced her to be in perfect health. Spyro had suffered bruising and several deep cuts from where he had been struck, he had also been dazed by one of the impacts he had suffered. Spyro had somehow performed a flawlessly successful self-relocation of his dislocated bone, the healers made sure it had been put back in the right place. He was declared fortunate not to have broken his ribs and had to wait for his dizziness to abate, but otherwise Spyro was also well. The healers put a big white bandage which contained shards of red crystal around his middle, it then neatly looped around Spyro's foreleg to heal any damage Magmar might have done to his tendons and muscles. At Spyro's polite but firm request it was only a few minutes they said the two dragons were free to go.

Spyro tapped Cynder's shoulder as they left and the two dragons took off, Spyro led them to a building Cynder hadn't been to before, the newly rebuilt and relocated Dragon Temple, where they wouldn't be bothered by crowds.

The new dragon temple was larger than the old one, despite the fact that nobody lived in it. It was graceful but intimidating, with high spires, stone arches and stone dragon statues on the rooftops. The temple had been designed to house not only dragon eggs but the great library of Warfang, not a minor feat as the library contained thousands upon thousands of books. Ambitious architects had also designed it to contain The Vaults of Warfang, but the true Vaults were protected by magic few dragons could hope to replicate, and were more secure than the temple could hope to be, miles of tunnels and passages far below the ground floor lay empty. The Temple was primarily a school, teaching younger dragons' history, mathematics, sciences, and the whole dragon curriculum. This was where Spyro spent most of his days, reading and learning on his own; having surpassed most of the teachers that Warfang had to offer.

Spyro flew in through one of the huge windows on the second floor; he landed and stretched his injured side and foreleg carefully. Cynder landed a moment later and Spyro turned to look at her. Cynder went to speak, but her mind went blank, she wanted to say… something… "I love you" "I'm sorry I left you" "Can you forgive me?" "How have you been?" "Spyro, Are you alright?" Perhaps even: "Oh, say Spyro, can you explain the really cool thing you did just before, countering Magmar's comet dash?" There were plenty of things Cynder wanted to say, but none of them seemed right.

Spyro was the first one to speak.

"I've missed you Cynder."

That made it easier.

"I've missed you too Spyro."

Irrelevant things probably happened then, the closing of eyes, deep breaths, butterflies in the stomach and the like, but the irrelevant things were still just a blur to Cynder right up until the moment when she felt Spyro's gentle kiss and the world stood still.

After the moment the dragons pulled apart. Pure relief flowed through Cynder's body and she could practically feel herself relax and regain some of her usual confidence. Nothing could be as scary as kissing Spyro again despite everything that had kept them apart. She even gave Spyro a smile, her special smile that was reserved just for him.

"Cynder, why did you go?" Spyro asked.

Cynder faltered. Her smile disappeared.

"I don't want to talk about it. Please. I'm back now and it's in the past."

"Tell me, Cynder, I've spent so long trying to understand you, why can't you just tell me?"

"It's in the past! I'm sorry I left okay? Just forget it!" Cynder snapped angrily, but then subsided.

"I just want a reason." Spyro said softly.

"Okay." Spyro deserved honesty, even if it would only make him even more upset. "I wasn't… I wasn't strong enough. I gave you up because I was causing you pain and myself pain and I thought it would hurt less; I thought that we would move on."

"Cynder…"

Cynder gathered her strength and met Spyro's eyes unflinchingly, despite the fact that hers were on the verge of filling with tears.

"I would have gone with you!" Spyro punched the floor in anger, to the surprise of both dragons it cracked; Spyro was stronger than he thought he was. "I can't believe I was so stupid! I thought I was being considerate and understanding. I thought you needed time alone, I thought you wanted to be alone. I could have gone with you! I should have gone with you…"

He met her gaze.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Cynder. I am sorry."

"So we're both sorry."

"I guess so."

There was a moment of uncomfortable, and sorrowful, silence.

"Let's talk about something else, please?" Cynder asked. Spyro laughed slightly.

"You've grown taller."

"So have you. Stronger too I'll say." Cynder tapped the crack in the floor.

"I've been training a lot. Come on, I'll show you where I train before anyone finds… this." Spyro turned to leave, and then he paused.

"Actually, I may be able to try something here." Spyro spread his paws over the crack and carefully layered earth into the gap to fill it.

"Not bad" Cynder said.

"There's more." Spyro said. He breathed in and focused, then exhaled a narrow beam of pure heat. The stone sizzled like cooking meat and glowed brightly and Cynder had to watch through narrowed eyes to see what was happening. Spyro carefully adjusted his fire for a few seconds then suddenly switched to his ice element and chilled the area thoroughly. Cynder watched Spyro in admiration. He turned and caught her gaze, so she looked at his handiwork instead, the crack itself was sealed. The floor's surface, however, was blackened with heat and the stone itself was rippled like a windblown pond. It wasn't perfect, but it was extraordinary.

"That didn't work as well as I had hoped." Spyro admitted. "Now I'll definitely get in trouble."

"Can I have a go?" Cynder asked.

"Sure, but you don't have a fire element. What are you going to do?"

"I've been expanding my repertoire during my isolation." Cynder said.

"You sound like Volteer." Spyro laughed. He was impressed by her vocabulary.

"Just watch." Cynder examined the deformed stone with care, and then layered a thin sheen of poison over the surface. Spyro watched quietly as the floor began to smoke, Cynder tapped four seconds on the floor using her paw, immediately she exhaled a powerful wind gust that filled the chamber and focused its power on the poison she had used.

Spyro made a noise of amazement as the stone was perfectly smoothed and flattened. He grew even more amazed when an iridescent swirl of violet and blue formed an opaque sheen over the surface of the stone; in moments that patch of floor resembled the rainbow shell of an abalone. The bright spot of colour stood out spectacularly in the room, but looked more like the result of freelance artwork rather than frustrated floor beating. Cynder reached over her creation and pressed her paw into its center, leaving a dark print.

"That's incredible. How did you do that?" Spyro asked.

Cynder flushed at his praise.

"I don't really know… All I did was use poison and shadow to create acid, then oxidize it at the right moment with my wind."

"But how did it turn rainbow?" Spyro asked. "It's beautiful"

"I don't know. I guess it could be your ice magic affecting mine. I don't understand it."

"Beautiful things can be hard to understand" Spyro said thoughtfully "But that doesn't make them any less beautiful."

Spyro pressed his own paw on the shining surface, next to Cynder's print. It left a faint dark mark beside hers.

"Speaking of magic, how did you shut down the fire power of that dragon?"

"Magmar." Spyro said quietly. He sighed; Cynder had come back to him at the end of a long battle, and one that Spyro could hardly believe was actually over.

"Yes, him." Cynder said "I've never even heard of something like that being done."

"I'll show you around the temple and explain on the way." Spyro said. Cynder nodded and they started walking.

Spyro explained, as far as he could, how each of his four elements interacted. Pausing to point out features of the Dragon Temple as they walked, Spyro described how in normal use all of the elements were relatively evenly matched; but that on a level of pure mana, which was used to power magic, different types of mana could affect the other types in different ways.

For example, when ice and fire met in combat then it was the skill of the dragons using them that would determine the winner. On the other hand pure ice energy would invariably mute pure fire energy; the fire couldn't survive the ice. On the same pattern electricity countered ice and earth countered electricity. The circuit seemed incomplete, no mana countered earth, and fire didn't counter anything.

The topic changed then, as this mismatch led Spyro to suspect that wind was the fifth guardian element. Cynder had no doubt about where Spyro had heard that theory from. Imperia had been campaigning for years to take a place as the fifth elemental guardian. She and Cynder had discussed it at length several times. She mentioned this to Spyro and the two of them agreed that should Imperia ever succeed then her victory would prove an eternal monument to her silver tongue.

Cynder had sworn to herself she would reserve judgement on this Spyro. This older, stronger, more thoughtful Spyro was one she hadn't really encountered before. As they spoke, however, Cynder soon found herself falling for Spyro all over again.

Imperia had already given Cynder all the details, but Spyro's views on the idea of a fifth elemental guardian were new and interesting to Cynder, who had missed nearly all the gossip for two whole years.

Spyro felt that Imperia's argument was good, but unfortunately for her the only solid pieces of proof she had were a missing piece in a game of rock paper scissors only Spyro could play, and a throwaway line in a tale everyone preferred to forget: Malefor's origin story. It was said that the other purple dragon had mastered the wind element during his training, but when Spyro had shown no sign of a dormant wind ability Cyril, the ice guardian, had argued that this meant nothing. Terrador, the earth guardian and unofficial leader of the guardians, respected the former leader Ignitus' opinion, that there were only four guardians for a reason, but couldn't find any reason other than that it was ancient tradition. He had not cast support to either side.

Spyro and Cynder heard voices from a central chamber of the temple and looked at each other. They reached a silent agreement and went to the source of the sound.

The two dragons found the chamber of interest and went inside. The guardians Volteer, Cyril and Terrador were gathered there and in heated debate.
"A break in! in the vaults of Warfang!" Cyril was exclaiming. "Volteer you ridiculous worm we have bigger problems then the fire surrender. They have surrendered, case closed!"

"Historical patterns show a distinct trend here Cyril. Your obsession with your own lineage has blinded you to the lessons of the wider past. A lazy surrender is as bad as no surrender at all; we will go back to war if we don't work this out now. Besides I thought you loved quibbling over little details."

"Quibbling!? You accuse me of quibbling? At least I have my priorities straight, you blathering bright spark!"

"Your number one priority is your ego Cyril. It always was and always will be, you're as self-centred as-"

Cynder turned to Spyro "Are they always like this?"

Spyro shrugged "Pretty much. Its better when Flare is here, but Volteer and Cyril will just bicker until Terrador tells them to-"

"SHUT UP" Terrador yelled. Volteer and Cyril did so. The earth guardian dragon went on in his deep voice before the argument could restart.

"We have guests. Spyro welcome, and Cynder, I am glad to see you are safe."

Terrador turned back to the other guardians

"It's unfortunate that I have nothing better to do with my time then listen to you two argue, Volteer, Cyril. The matter is already decided, Flare will be here in minutes, and the Fire Lord Magmar has recovered sufficiently to confirm the terms of his surrender in person, she is escorting him here. Cyril, the matter of the vault raid shall be discussed after the surrender."

Volteer shot Cyril a smirk that said "I told you so" Terrador gave Volteer the "Don't even think about it" look and Cyril directed the "I'm surrounded by idiots" expression to the room at large.

Cynder didn't know how to do a "Politics is ridiculous" look, so she settled for a "why do I bother?" Spyro appeared terribly amused by the whole thing.

Volteer turned away from Cyril and finally seemed to register that Cynder was in the room. He looked delighted.

"Cynder! Wow, you've grown! Come here!" He came to her instead and hugged her tightly. "You look great! Mmm… you smell great too! Is that nightshade? It's poisonous of course, but in smaller quantities it leaves a dragon with lovely breath. As a poison dragon you probably don't even have to worry about berry poisoning though do you?" Volteer let her go. Cynder was smiling already; she had forgotten how much she loved Volteer's enthusiasm and his never-ending stream of ideas. "You smell as nice as a fire dragon. Lucky fire dragons with their nice smell. Have you smelt a fire dragon? Take Flare, she's a classic example. She smells amazing, smoky!"

Cynder was looking forward to meeting this Flare dragoness. Volteer stopped talking, looking like he'd said too much. Cynder took the chance to begin answering his questions before she forgot them.

"Yes, I do eat nightshade occasionally; I think mint works better though. No, I don't need to worry about poisonous berries, they can't hurt me. Also no… I can't recall ever smelling a fire dragon."

"That's such a shame! Hang on, Spyro, you're a fire dragon."

"I already know what Spyro smells like."

"You what?" Spyro spluttered.

"Spyro smells like Spyro, nobody else smells like he does." Cynder tried not to giggle, she wasn't a giggling dragon.

"Can we change the subject?" Spyro asked. "Cyril is looking at us strangely."

Volteer turned and stuck his long tongue out at Cyril. The ice dragon muttered something about childish behaviour, he had a point, Volteer was the youngest guardian by a sizable margin, perhaps the youngest guardian dragon ever, but he'd had to take over the position quite unexpectedly when his predecessor had turned out to be a murderous psychopath. Despite Volteer's lack of the high level training most guardians had gone through his natural ability with lightning and his fondness for theoretical concepts and advanced reading had left him as a remarkably competent Guardian.

Terrador came over and joined the group. Cynder was unsure about how Terrador felt towards her. She knew that loyalty was important to Terrador, and that he had been a soldier before he was a guardian. Cynder liked to think that she was a loyal dragon, she certainly wasn't a traitor, but Terrador might not see it that way. Cynder was rather surprised when Terrador gave her a kind smile.

"Welcome back to Warfang."

Cynder could only nod politely.

"What's wrong, weren't you expecting a warm welcome?" Terrador asked. Cynder shook her head.

"I thought you would be angry at me." Cynder admitted.

"No, I'm not. Ignitus promised you that the guardians wouldn't fail you again, but in allowing you to be driven from the city by the dragons that should have been grateful to you, we have done so. I'm not angry, I'm sorry."

"It's seems like everyone is sorry." Cynder said. "It's getting a bit old."

"I'm not sorry." Volteer volunteered.

"You might as well apologize anyway. Just for the sake of completeness" Spyro joked. Volteer was going to reply when Terrador suddenly rose and looked to the door.

"We have company"

Escape from the most secure prison known to Dragonkind was no simple task.

The tomb of Darkmire was built to contain its namesake: Darkmire, the terrible black dragon. The name of Darkmire was nearly all lost to history and the truth behind his story was not clear. Nobody truly knew what he had been capable of or why everybody had been so scared of him, but they had been very, very scared of him.

Judge a dragon by the quality of his prison, and a very sinister picture emerges.

The Sigils, spells and runes carved into the stone of the tomb's passageways were old and powerful, designed to mercilessly crush the creation of Mana. What was called "Natural" mana was unaffected, the usual elemental powers used by dragons but the next level powers like fury attacks and the infamous "Dark Spyro" effect was completely prevented. Perhaps Darkmire had been a dragon who had moved beyond natural dragon abilities.

The tomb was underground, built around a vast black pit. Nine descending levels of rings each filled with doors, traps and guards. The walls of the pit were designed with imposing spikes of razor sharp rock to prevent anyone, or anything, climbing out from the depths below. To access the ring below a dragon would have to pull a lever within a well-guarded room and then rush over one of the long narrow bridges down; the lethal spikes on the bridge would only retract for a single minute to allow passage.

Flying within Darkmire's tomb was tantamount to suicide, thousands upon thousands of strands of razor wire crisscrossed the pit, and a dragon would risk losing their wings before they had gone a few metres. Once across a bridge there was no way back, only a dragon on the exit side could make the bridge safe to cross.

The final, and most spooky, testament to the mysterious Darkmire's power was that the black dragon was dead.

Whatever he had done in life, however they had eventually defeated him, dragonkind couldn't sleep easy even then. The few sources remaining to history all agreed that when Darkmire had died the dragons had been so terrified of him that they didn't trust even death itself to keep him from tormenting them. The greatest prison known to dragonkind had been built to contain a corpse.

There was now only one living prisoner.

His name was Thoran.

The dragon had come to him silently. Like a nightmare that Thoran couldn't quite remember, who was the dragon? He didn't know, but when his chains were struck and the cell door quietly swung open Thoran knew one thing. He was going free, and he would kill every dragon, any living thing, that tried to stop him.

As Thoran strolled out of his cage he saw the dragon again. The dragon, whoever it was, was moving deeper into the prison. There were only dead things down there. Thoran recalled the name of his fellow prisoner with a shiver. Not Darkmire, the other one, the new one. Disturbing thoughts came to him; he rather wished that he hadn't looked, but what he saw confirmed his fear. A flash of purple.

The dragon wasn't a someone at all. It was something else entirely.

Darkmire wasn't the one who the guards should be worried about.

Thoran's first victim was on routine patrol past his cell. He was familiar, he had been the junior guard with the duty of feeding Thoran for months now and it was disgusting, even thinking about it made the ex-prisoner angry. Thoran had no qualms about walking up behind the guard and breaking his neck.

His first kill in… how long? Twelve long years at least, Thoran's skills felt dull. He stretched like a cat and sighed as his stiff joints began to relax. He was older then he had realized. His power, however, was pure and perfect, it had never failed him.

The next dragon wasn't taken by surprise. Thoran found a long corridor as he began to methodically search his prison. Getting out would require a plan of course, Thoran needed time to think. The dragon at the end of the hall took a few seconds to recognize the one live prisoner in his care, and then he charged down the hallway at Thoran. The older dragon watched him come, then traced a line of power on the ground and stepped back. The guard dragon ran straight over the line like an idiot. Lightning crackled and sparked through his prison standard issue armour and fried the guard's blood in the time it took him to move from one step to his next.

The guard took his last step and fell forward with a graceless crunch. Thoran laughed at him but choked on his own voice, he hadn't spoken in months. He kicked the dead dragon as he passed.

One gets what one deserves when one underestimates the former Electricity Guardian Dragon.

This chapter took me a solid week to write. I had started this story well in advance for the sake of rapid posting, but then Chapter three came along and... writers block.

It's always chapter three.

In my final proof read (I have no beta readers) I was thinking "Ah, that bit took me an hour." and "This bit I rewrote six times" worst of all was Cynder and Spyro's kiss. That took me FOUR DAYS to write! I had to personally sort out their relationship as they didn't seem inclined to do it for themselves.

I apologise if this chapter isn't very good, I feel it's worse then my usual writing.

I would appreciate reviews and/or messages about what I could have done better (and what, if anything, I did right)

As always thanks for reading!

"Knowledge is Power"

-4Dragons