Spyro flew through the cold air; a very familiar path before him, and one which he had no choice but to follow.

The mountains closed in around him like a tunnel with barely enough space to fly, forcing him to take twists and turns as he travelled; but this wasn't just the only path through the valley, it was also the only path which might lead to safety. If this didn't work then Spyro didn't want to think about what would happen.

It had been nearly three weeks since they had first been sent out to Darkmire's Tomb to find out weather Malefor was rising again. Spyro shook his head slightly. It felt like it had been less time than that, many of the days had blurred together due to constant fighting and flying. His stay in convexity had left him suffering from a lack of sleep, he was weary but he was still strong. There were still things he needed to do.

He continued to fly, further and further into the middle of nowhere. The crevasse through the mountains twisted and turned before opening up into a deep valley. Spyro's eyes drifted peacefully over the Ice Valley which twisted its way through the mountain range; whorled and spiked shapes of frozen water, delicate structures which balanced above the rocky ground below. A hollowed out glacier, trapped with nowhere left to flow, and slowly falling apart in the wind.

He could more easily fly higher than he had been able to the last time he had come this way, that time he and Cynder had wound their way through those curved twisted shapes; Flying low to stay out of the cold wind and taking the indirect winding path through the cracks in the ice itself. After a moment's thought Spyro decided to do it again.

The ice shifted and cracked above him, subtle movements that threatened the promise that someday it would fall and this natural wonder would be lost. Spyro was glad to be able to fly among it before that happened; but his time among the beauty was short before he emerged into the rest of the valley, where the ice had fallen and been replaced by powdery snow over bare rock.

He beat his wings and flew faster. The cold had no impact on him, unlike how it had gradually exhausted Cynder until she had nearly died. He remembered how she'd flapped harder and harder to keep warm, when normally she flew like she was swimming through liquid.

Somewhere down in the bottom of this canyon, against one of the dull rocky walls, was a snowdrift where he and Cynder had spent the night. He spotted several likely looking spots, but he didn't know which one was the right one.

The journey, from the start of the canyon to it's end, took him barely an hour. Strange, it had felt like longer the first time.

There, balanced on the edge of one of the largest mountains, was Darkmire's Tomb.

The outermost surface of the fortress was a castle built around the entrance to a deep and dark cave. The black rock that made up the building had been mined from the centre of the mountain. The walls were spiked and aggressive looking, but the building was squat and pressed back hard against the mountainside as if the fortress itself was scared of slipping down and collapsing into the valley below.

The forbidding looking fortress had a fire lit at one of the watchtowers, which hadn't been there the last time. It didn't help make it look more homely, but at least it told him that the relief squad of guards had arrived after the breakout.

The doors were open too, and this did actually go some way towards making the place feel more welcoming. Just a little bit.

Spyro did not linger outside, did not hesitate, didn't even think about what he was going to do before he did it. He just swooped down and dived straight through the open doors, accelerating down the corridor beyond as quickly as possible.

The moment he passed through the door the magical runes which were inscribed on the walls began to glow. He had entered an energy field, a field exactly like the one that Malefor and Cynder had been trying so hard to get him into.

A field exactly like the one that, unknown to him, Malefor had volunteered to seal himself inside when he had first started to turn dark, while desperately buying time to research how to exile himself into convexity.

But this field was stronger than either of those ones, much stronger.

Only the best security for Darkmire's Tomb, thousands of hours had been spent on constructing the sealing array which embraced this prison; such was the fear of what the Darkmire Dragon could do.

An entire world worth of terrorised dragons, at least those who had survived the rule of Darkmire for long enough, had worked together to create a place where they could bury the original black dragon, somewhere they would finally be safe from that opression.

Historical records from before that time had all been destroyed; only rumours and a few fragments written by survivors remained.

Stories told of a world under the rulership of a cruel god, stories of dragons from Warfang, and even the Ice and Fire dragons who had never gotten along over anything since that ancient time; all working together to build Darkmire's Tomb.

Spyro knew the legend, he had seen the fear which was built into every stone of this fortress, how scared it's builders had been. While Hope had thought only of finding answers, Spyro had known that what was really here was a trap, a place to lock away the most terrible things known to Dragonkind.

Hope realised his mistake too late, far too late to escape.

Bolts of purple energy lanced off the walls, tracking him as he flew and paralysing his body. Spyro had guessed this would happen, but he still yelped in fear as he lost his ability to fly. His body dipped and crashed, skidding several wingspans down the hall before rolling to a stop. He groaned, a flicker of white appearing in his eyes, darkness leaking from his body only to be instantly wiped away by more purple lightning.

"Oww…" Spyro groaned, slowly standing up.

In his mind Hope's voice slowly echoed to him, sluggish, distant. It was sealed somewhere inside him, and instead of splitting his head each time it spoke it was no more painful than the sound of claws on a chalkboard. Still unpleasant, but a huge improvement.

"What… is… happening?"

Spyro ignored the voice. He shook off the dust from his crash and started to walk deeper into the fortress. A sudden burst of darkness poured from his scales, making him hiss in pain, only for the lightning to flare again and make it dissipate.

"What did you do to me!?" Hope demanded.

"I took you to Darkmire's Tomb, just like you asked." Spyro said. A clatter behind him alerted him to a dragon hurrying down a flight of stairs towards the main hall where he was waiting.

"No! We have to leave! It's binding my magic! We've walked into a sealing circle!"

"I know." Spyro said, grinning slightly. "I remembered there was one here, and I knew you would let us come here and get through the door without a fight."

"You tricked me!" Hope howled in fury within Spyro's mind, making him wince.

"Yes I did. Not the most glamorous way to save the world. But I'll take it as a win anyway."

Hope's reply to this was nothing articulate; just a long rant of screaming, threatening and yowling. Spyro rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache that the voice was bringing on, and then turned as a pair of dragons rushed down the stairs.

"Halt!" One of them yelled, an ice dragon.

Spyro shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."

His body was heavy with relief, the danger was over, at least for now. He heaved a sigh and smiled to himself as he allowed himself to relax slightly.

Both of the guards stopped dead as they realised who they were dealing with.

"Master Spyro sir! We did not expect you!" The other dragon hurriedly saluted, and the ice dragon scrambled to do the same.

"It's ok." Spyro waved a paw reassuringly. "I'm not here to inspect the prison or anything. Although I am a bit curious why the door was open and unguarded, even if the only prisoner here a dead body that hasn't left it's cell in about a billion years."

The two dragons glanced awkwardly between each other. "We were playing cards."

Spyro laughed. "Well that's understandable. It's probably best you weren't standing right in the entrance when I came in anyway." He groaned and put his paw back to his head as his skull pounded dully.

"Are you okay Master Spyro sir?" The earth dragon asked.

He nodded. "Yes fine. Better than I was. Thanks for asking. Hey I'm sure this is a strange request, but would you mind locking me in a cell for a few hours? I need sleep and I don't trust myself not to sleepwalk out of here."

"Umm… sure." The Earth dragon nodded. "Can we just check with our commander first?"

"Can you send your friend to do that? I'll feel a lot better once I know I'm secure in here." Spyro asked.

"Right away Master Spyro sir!" The ice dragon exclaimed.

"Wait! Two more things, and they're urgent." Spyro said, suddenly realising that he couldn't sleep just yet. "Who's in charge here? Is it still the old lightning dragon who lost his wing?"

"Yes sir! Commander Scara." The ice drake confirmed. He was young, Spyro realised. Not much older than he himself was; and clearly nervous. Both of them were.

"Good, I hope he's recovering well. Secondly you need to get him to send one of the guards, the fastest flier you have, with an urgent message to Warfang, and I mean urgent do you understand?"

"Yes sir!"

"Okay, the message is just to tell them that I've turned myself in at Darkmire's Tomb. Tell them I'm safe and secure, and to come here as soon as possible."

"Okay…" The Ice dragon nodded, not fully understanding. "Who is them, sir? The guardians?"

Spyro nodded. "The guardians, and whoever they decide to bring. They'll know what to do. I don't know who you're going to send, but if possible they need to leave tonight. Like I said this is a very urgent message."

"Understood!" The Ice dragon whirled around and ran off.

"Sorry about your game, by the way." Spyro said to the earth drake. The drake chuckled.

"It's fine. I was winning anyway. Come on, I'll show you to your, uh, cell, I guess, Spyro sir."

"No need to keep calling me sir. Just Spyro is fine. What's your name?"

"Quakeon, si- I mean Spyro."

"You're from Warfang, right? It's nice to meet you." Spyro smiled, falling into step beside the drake as they walked to one of the cells.

"That's right! I'm part of the relief force you asked to be sent here."

"Probably not the most interesting job in the world, huh? Sorry about that."

Quakeon laughed. "It's fine. It's all experience towards being a full guard. Much easier than doing drills every day for Cyril."

They arrived at the entrance to the cave, leading deep into the mountain where the real prison of Darkmire's Tomb lay, buried at the heart of the mountain. Spyro was nervous about stepping onto the rough stone of the cave. What if the symbols weren't written on the walls in here?

After a deep breath he took the step, and while Hope pushed again another flicker of lighting held him back. It was safe.

The narrow crevice in the mountainside stabbed straight into the heart of the mountain. It was rough stone with well worn rocks below their feet. The ceiling grew lower and lower until both of them were practically crawling.

The further down they walked the more distant Hope's voice became. It didn't fade, but at least the headache did. Spyro allowed himself to feel a flash of ho- of optimism. Using the H word felt dirty at the moment.

"How is Scara, is he healing? His wing will grow back right?" Spyro asked.

Quakeon sighed. "His injuries are severe, and we have minimal healing supplies. We used our entire stash of red healing crystals and he still won't fly for at least a year, his wing was completely cut off. But he is stable, and he is gradually recovering."

"In a few hours I'd be grateful to talk to him. Don't unlock my cell before he's here."

"Okay Spyro… but why not?"

"I have a dark side, it's trying to break free. Being here seals it in, but if I fall asleep I'm worried I might fall back into it."

Quakeon looked nervous. "Can the cells down here hold you Master Spyro si- I mean, Spyro? You're one of the greatest dragons in all of Warfang."

Spyro nodded confidently. "The stone here is reinforced with wire. Terrador himself would take hours to get through it. It'll be fine. Just don't stick a paw in my cage if you see my scales have turned dark and my eyes have turned yellow."

"O-okay… Here is your cell Spyro. I'll ask Scara to be here in a few hours."

Spyro stepped into the cell, it wasn't a terribly nice cell, all bare stone. He felt the floor and confirmed that there was indeed razor wire in the stone to keep him contained. That done he relaxed, sitting back against the far wall.

"Will that be all Spyro?" Quakeon asked.

"Yes, and thanks for everything. Just don't forget how urgent it is to send a message to Warfang."

"Understood!"

And with that last word Spyro was left alone.

But not so alone as he might have hoped.

"You won't stay here. The longer you're here the more torment I'll put everyone you love through. Luckily Imperia is still alive, I'll tear her apart piece by piece, Flare and Volteer too. Everyone you care about I'll torture if you don't let me out right now!"

"We're locked in here. You can threaten me all you want, but even if we weren't locked in here the more you say the more it makes me determined to stay here. I'll stay here for the rest of our lives if that's what it takes. I'm sure Cynder will come to visit us even despite the cold. I certainly hope so…"

Hope snarled angrily at him.

"We'll go and open Darkmire's Tomb if that'll make you feel better. At least we will if Scara allows it." Spyro said.

"Go ahead. It will prove me right. Cynder's only true destiny is to love me."

"Heh, she would spit in the face of her destiny if it said that. If she loves one of us she'll do it for her own sake."

Once again Hope could only growl in fury.

"I'm sorry about how things have worked out with you. I don't know what you are, or why you are like you are… I'm sure it's not even really your fault."

"I hate you!" Hope screeched at him.

"I know you do… Maybe Cynder could have loved you if you'd just been born in a different situation."

"Shut up Shut up SHUT UP!" Hope screamed.

"You're beyond help. You have too much hate. If you ever get out of here you'll do terrible things to everyone I care about… So I'm never going to let you out of here. We'll be here forever."

Hope devolved beyond even speaking words. Everything had been taken from him and Spyro was suddenly guarding the cage he had been thrown into. The reversal was beyond Hope's ability to accept. He screamed and howled, desperate to do any kind of harm to Spyro.

Spyro closed his eyes and lay his head down. He had to rely on Cynder and the others to find some way to save him now… but at least he had managed to capture himself.

Spyro smiled slightly. He was pretty proud of himself for arranging this; he just wished he'd been able to find some way to do it sooner.

There was a dragon winging their way to Cynder, probably right now. How long would it be? The one way trip from Warfang to Darkmire's Tomb was nearly two days. Two days there for whoever they sent with the message, Cynder might be able to make it back in less, her wind magic speeding her on the way. Three days then, maybe four… and then he could hold her again.

Spyro sighed gently, the thought relaxed him. He could do this. Everything was going to be okay…

With that he finally drifted asleep.

"If you want to work with us then you need to train."

Malefor looked up from the report he was reading, a study written by Volteer and Flare which compared the innate mana capacities of every dragon in Flare's class at the Dragon Academy, struggling to believe what he had just heard. Cynder's green eyed stare pinned him down.

"Excuse me?" Malefor said blankly. His mind rapidly working, starting to puzzle out what Cynder was talking about. "I'm quite capable-"

"But you're not." Cynder shook her head. "And all you've done during your stay in Warfang so far is read and make gooey eyes at Imperia. And I am still trying to decide how I feel about both of those things, but one thing I know is that you panic when you fight, and I don't want to get hit by a fireball because you weren't looking where you were shooting. If that happens I'll be furious."

Malefor frowned. He was the most powerful dragon in the world, and he had beaten Cynder and Spyro multiple times in combat. He let the Imperia comment slide, and he had known that his combat skills could use some improvement; but this observation of panic was something unexpected.

But he couldn't deny it. In fact he couldn't really deny the Imperia comment either, the feeling of her paw… the warmth…

"You need to learn how to keep a calm defence while under pressure. You lost to Hope on the top of the Concurrent Skies Fortress because you didn't know how to do that. No amount of elemental skill will save you if you have teeth around your throat." Cynder told him. "You might never need to be as good as Terrador or Flare; but you need to be able to get your bearings for long enough to do your lightning clone trick."

Malefor nodded, getting past his surprise. "You're right. I hadn't considered it in your terms. I can see why my lack of practice in this regard would make me difficult to trust in a fight. I'm used to fighting alone."

Cynder gestured and Malefor set down his reading neatly and moved to catch up to her. She walked fast with her swishing prowling gait, and he even had to run a few steps to reach her side to his annoyance.

"I had also considered that the citizens of Warfang might not be keen to know that I was fighting while in the city. I would prefer not to cause panic." Malefor said.

Cynder frowned slightly to herself. "Huh, I wonder if that's one of the things I did wrong. I trained all the time, it helped me forget how much I hated being whispered about. Still I don't like to imagine what I'd do without training. I can only take so much before I feel a need to do violence. We'll go to Imperia's private training room, somewhere a bit out of the way."

"Will she be there?" Malefor asked.

Cynder shrugged. "Who knows where she'll be? Everytime I want to find her she shows up, otherwise her activities are a mystery to me. Although I've heard an awful lot of rumours about them."

"She's often occupied by romance, and the, well, the things that come after romance. At least if what she tells me is to be believed. Doesn't she tell you about that sort of thing?"

"Only if she wants to be stabbed." Cynder said. "And I'll extend that deal to include you. If I ever want to know things I'll ask her." Her tailblade angled slightly to catch the light. It was very sharp.

"Understood." Malefor dropped the subject. He was quite sure the threat was an empty one; but he didn't want to find out. "So do you mean to… teach me?" He asked doubtfully.

"Yes." Cynder nodded briefly.

"Why?" Malefor asked.

Cynder bit her lip slightly. "Because it means a slightly better chance to save Spyro. Everything else comes after that, including the utter disgust that a part of me feels every time I think about you."

Malefor bowed his head. "I know some of what you mean… I never did apologise to you did I?"

"For what?" Cynder asked.

"For all of it."

"There have been a lot of apologies going around lately. Don't bother adding to them. If you're really different then you'll have to prove it to me."

"I see… By saving Spyro?"

Cynder shrugged. "For a start. I'll let you know when you succeed. Just like Warfang has finally come around to liking me I might come around to liking you."

Cynder drifted off into her own thoughts for a few moments.

After Imperia had dropped the 'Warfang likes you now' bombshell on her in the day after Hope's attack on the city she'd been thinking it over. Eventually she'd just decided to test it out, and had gone for a walk through the city streets.

The results had been kind of startling, she had been plagued by questions and awe; she'd felt almost as if she possessed the same legendary aura as Ignitus, a mysterious force which drew the crowd close and yet kept a circle of open space around her which they would keep no matter how hard they were shoved forwards. It was like a forcefield made of pure respect.

Cynder wasn't sure she liked the feeling; the fact that most of the questions had been about the details of her plan to save Spyro also didn't help. She didn't have much of a plan to save Spyro, and the questions uncomfortably reminded her of that fact. But it was certainly a big improvement over her years old memories of sneering whispers and rumours.

Cynder and Malefor walked into the training room, another large circular room with those scratches and blast marks on the walls which marked the fighting and practicing which had happened here. The room was empty and Cynder walked to the centre of it.

"Do you… know how to teach?" Malefor asked.

Cynder shook her head. "I'm just going to give you a trial by fire."

Malefor nodded with a hint of caution. This was very much not how he had expected his day to go.

"Melee combat. Wind element to increase your speed and move around only." Cynder said sternly. "Not even a wind blade. None."

Malefor nodded. "Understood." He stepped back into a fighting stance. Cynder stayed where she was.

"On one, then." She said, finally turning to look at him again. She took prowling steps, a predator hunting it's prey; moving towards him until she was hardly a wingspan away from him. Malefor edged back slightly.

"This isn't really my preferred kind of combat encounter…"

"And when your tricks fail you then what? Do you die, or have you practiced how to defend yourself? Hope doesn't want to fight on your terms, he wants to fight you from here; so don't back up until we start."

Malefor nodded and stopped moving. Cynder nodded briefly.

"Three… Two… One!"

As soon as she spoke Malefor was stepping back; but Cynder was on him already. She didn't slow herself down at all.

Malefor barely even realised what happened. Cynder was a black streak as she closed in on him. Her wings clashed against his paws, then her tail swiped up and hit his ribs. Malefor realised instantly that she was too close and he had no chance of blocking everything. He launched himself backwards with his wind magic, but before he'd even landed Cynder was there, tail blade hovering at his throat.

"You need to move more. Standing around is a wonderful way to get hit."

Malefor nodded, stepping away from her tailblade. "Understood; although that does make it harder to aim."

Cynder grunted. "Target races then."

"Target ranges you mean?" Malefor asked.

"No. Races. It's one of Imperia's main training exercises. You do an obstacle course and shoot wind blades at targets as you're moving. Hmm… I'm tempted to spit acid at you to use as an obstacle course instead, but for now I think we can stick with the fight and you'll just have to try harder."

Malefor frowned with distaste at the idea of flying through an obstacle course made of acid. "I feel like you're enjoying this more than I'm comfortable with."

Cynder smirked. "Let's go again."

Ten frantic seconds later Malefor was staggering back with a deep bruise on his chest from Cynder's ramming shoulder. The injury healed as quickly as it formed, but the memory of how he'd gotten it remained.

"You only ever use your forelegs. Your tail and wings flop around like a fish. Again."

Malefor took Cynder's advice into consideration, and she quickly ended up grabbing his tail and throwing him into a wall.

"That was an improvement. Again."

This was going to be a long afternoon.

A gentle tapping on the door brought Spyro out of one of the best sleeps of his entire life. He shook himself awake and slowly started to get to his feet. Hope was giving him the silent treatment, and he had slept knowing he was secure and safe, something he hadn't done for a whole week. He had needed it.

An elderly electric dragon was looking into the cell; watching him keenly as he got up.

"Hello again Spyro. You're looking well."

"Thanks, Scara. You're looking… also well."

"No need to lie." Scara chuckled, his face and body still bore dozens of deep cuts, and one of his wings had been fully sliced off; the result of being thrown into the razor wire which had up until recently been a defence mechanism in Darkmire's Tomb. "But I appreciate your politeness."

Spyro bowed respectfully to the other dragon. "Has a message been sent to Warfang?"

Scara nodded. "Yes, it was sent right away. It was the least I could do considering that yourself and Cynder came to help us. To what do we owe this visit? Where is Cynder? I was told… concerning things, by Quakeon."

"Some of it is true. I've come here because outside these walls I become controlled by dark magic. This is one of the only places I could go where I knew I would be safe. The rest of Warfang knows it, they'll be sending their best dragons to study the darkness and undo it. Cynder is in Warfang, after I turned dark she fought to stop me hurting innocents and made me flee into the wilderness. I tricked my dark side into coming here."

Scara nodded sombrely; considering what he'd been told. After a moment he opened the cell. "I'm sorry, I just had to decide if you posed a threat to the guards here."

Spyro nodded, wincing. "That's understandable… but you're not going to like what I have to ask next."

"Just get it out, what do you want Spyro?" Scara asked cautiously.

"I want to open the bottom cell. The one which contains Darkmire."

Hope's attention was suddenly snapped back to reality as he listened intently.

Scara stared at him. "You're insane."

Spyro nodded. "I'll understand if you're not comfortable with it. I don't know how dangerous it is, nobody knows how dangerous it is. It shouldn't be dangerous. If I didn't sleepwalk or even sleeptalk then it means we should be safe… but I won't risk the lives of anyone in this prison."

"You're asking to open the cell which contains a dragon who is said to have split the continents apart. The Legacy Sea is named Darkmire's Legacy because it was the result of him blasting an entire civilisation of dragons down to the bedrock. I don't want our entire mountain range to turn into a massive puddle."

"He would have to have lived for thousands of years to amass enough power to do that."

Spyro shuddered to think about what Hope would be like given a thousand years to grow and develop; let alone how dangerous Cynder could be in a thousand years with her wind element alone. Spyro wasn't sure he wanted to contemplate what Cynder's fear element would look like in a thousand years; but if he opened that door he might not only have to find out, but have it targeted directly at him.

"It is dangerous. I don't know how dangerous it is, but there is absolutely a risk. I'm willing to shut myself in there until the Warfang dragons arrive if it looks too risky."

"Absolutely not. I'll damn well go in after you myself if it comes to that."

Spyro nodded. "I don't suppose I can talk you out of that can I?"

Scara shook his head. "Nobody else will die here under my watch."

"Then we won't do it." Spyro said. "At least not until the Warfang dragons arrive."

"I'll talk to the rest of the guards about it." Scara said. "In an hour you'll have your answer."

Spyro nodded. "They don't have to go along with it. If anybody doesn't want me to open the door then I won't. I certainly won't ask any of you to come with me, just in case."

"Wait here then." Scara said, turning and starting to make his way up the spirals of Darkmire's Tomb.

"Could you send someone down here with a snack please? I'd rather not even go into the top part of the fortress, so I'd appreciate it if you sent someone down."

Scara chuckled. "Absolutely. I'll have it done."

"I hope there is something in that cell which can kill everyone here." Hope growled. "Will you really refuse to open it if even a single guard is too much of a coward to agree?"

"Of course. I'll only open it if they agree." Spyro said.

Hope snarled in annoyance. "Even if the Warfang dragons come they can't do anything. They can't kill me without taking you too."

"Except when Malefor and Cynder both survived." Spyro replied.

"Lies! They weren't removed! The Terror of the Skies is still alive." Hope snarled. "You can't do anything to me."

Spyro shrugged, ignoring Hope. After a few minutes he heard footsteps, and Quakeon arrived with a huge cooked leg of lamb which instantly made Spyro start to drool.

Quakeon handed it over and watched as Spyro started to hungrily devour the food.

"You must have been hungry." He commented.

Spyro nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah. I haven't eaten in a few days, and I've been doing a lot over that time."

"What have you been doing?" Quakeon asked curiously.

"Well fighting mostly. Fighting people I wish I hadn't fought… My dark side was in control."

Quakeon nodded. "You want to open the bottom cell to figure it out, don't you? There is some way to try and fix this down there, right?"

"Well I'm definitely hoping so." Spyro agreed. "But I guess I kind of owe it to my dark side to at least find out what's down there."

Quakeon nodded. "I see… Well I'm ok with you doing it. I trust you. You're the hero."

"I'll do my best to be…" Spyro nodded.

"Hey, you've done pretty well so far." Quakeon smiled reassuringly. "You look like you need time to think and eat. I'll head back up to the others."

Spyro smiled to Quakeon as he walked away; but his smile faded rapidly as the other drake left his sight.

Something told him he was going to regret this. It wasn't too late to give up on this idea, before Hope was able to use it as a chance to make another escape attempt… or something even worse.

So the world has been saved, and without even a fight... for now.

Will Spyro be strong enough to stay inside Darkmire's Tomb? Would Cynder allow Spyro to give up his freedom, even if it means saving the world? What awaits inside the final cell at the bottom of the cave?

At least one of those questions will be answered next time. The last one, to be specific. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the next one too!

-4Dragons