Cynder has been promised a secret which will allow her to save Spyro. All she has to do is somehow get it out of Darkmire while they are both trapped in the deepest cell of the prison.

Plans and preparations have been made and now there is nothing left to do but face Hope with her new knowledge... Assuming she can make it through Darkmire.

With every step they took down the twisting stone corridor at the heart of Darkmire's Tomb Cynder expected that Pleasure's courage would fail, and yet no matter how many times she glanced over at the other black dragoness her head remained held high and she kept up a brave face. She had to lean on Cynder's wing for support, she barely looked like she could walk, but she kept on pushing past her fear.

Cynder couldn't help but be impressed. She didn't know how Pleasure had managed to pick up this bravery, maybe she had nothing to lose, maybe she thought she had no choice, or maybe she just didn't know what to think. Perhaps she was just doing whatever she thought Cynder would have done in her position.

Whatever it was she liked it.

It did, however, make it feel even worse that she knew she was going to have to face Darkmire in the next few minutes. She was not looking forward to that.

Malefor was a few steps behind them, a glowing yellow orb of fire floating above him to light their way. Further back were Imperia and Spyro, both of whom were growing progressively more and more unhappy about this plan. They were taking a little bit of comfort in the fact that they were both in equal dislike of it, but also didn't want Cynder to notice because it would probably annoy her if she knew.

They arrived at the doors, two heavy stone slabs sealing off the final two rooms. Both open for the moment, one room full of dust where Malefor's body had been sealed away while it slowly recovered from his death in the core of the planet. The other room covered in old scratches caused by long past escape attempts by the black dragoness who had been buried alive in there for time beyond all imagination.

That same black dragoness, or at least the dragoness who had emerged from that harrowing experience, now stood back in front of her cell, chest heaving as she hyperventilated. Cynder carefully set her aside and stepped into the cell, turning to face them from out of the darkness, her bright green eyes reflecting in Malefor's fire while the rest of her was barely visible.

Pleasure, unsurprisingly, couldn't remain standing on her spindly legs, weakened even further by the terror which was coursing through her body. She promptly wobbled to the floor, caught and let down gently by a gust of wind from Cynder as she came down to rest.

"This is your last chance, for both of you." Imperia said. "We can come back and do this later if you want."

Cynder gave them an encouraging smile. It looked a little bit spooky in the darkness seeing the flash of her white fangs. "I'm ready if Pleasure is."

Pleasure just nodded slightly. "C-can someone take me inside?"

Cynder emerged from the darkness, helping Pleasure to her feet. "Lets do it then. Don't worry, I'll look after you." She wished she was as confident as she sounded, but she was sure going to try her hardest.

Together they stepped into the shadowy cell, and Cynder lay Pleasure down against one of the walls. The poor girl was shaking so hard she looked like she would break into splinters.

"Okay, how do we do this now?" Cynder asked. She glanced between Pleasure and Imperia.

Imperia gulped nervously. "I'll be gentle. I hope she shows the same courtesy."

The silver dragoness cautiously started to move forwards.

"Okay Pleasure, I'm going to walk up to you now. Your other side will probably try to stop me before I get to you."

Pleasure only nodded slightly.

She kept walking, step by step. Despite the emaciated and helpless appearance of the black dragoness she was highly nervous about approaching her.

Pleasure was having a hard time looking at her, shifting and squirming backwards slightly. "This feels wrong… this feels wrong…"

Imperia took another step. Nearly close enough to touch her now. What else could she do to lure out Darkmire?

She leaned down and very lightly gave Pleasure a kiss on the cheek, every muscle tense, waiting to spring back and slam the door.

Nothing happened, Pleasure simply continued to mutter under her breath, going from audible words to the string of names: Petrus, Blizzari, Sliver, Drakko, Terrador, Eruptadon. Repeated over and over.

Imperia's mind wandered slightly. If she brought her wing down with a strong enough wind blade maybe she could kill Pleasure before she even had a chance to-

And then Darkmire's eyes blazed yellow and she whipped her head towards Imperia.

"Boo!"

Imperia yowled like a cat who's paw had been tread on. She leapt backwards, her wind catching her before she hit the roof and then yanking herself forcefully out of the room. The door slammed behind her and the lock shut firmly.

She stood in the corridor, panting and struggling to breathe.

"She… just… is so… evil…"

She panted.

Spyro and Malefor looked at her sympathetically.

"I'd better listen at the door." Imperia said, moving forwards and sitting against the door, pressing her head to it.

The two purple dragons were not far behind, ready to do whatever they could to help, and hoping that they would be in time. Spyro put a reassuring wing over Imperia's shoulders while they helplessly wondered what was going on inside.

Darkmire laughed uproariously, a full ugly laugh, with too much wheezing to be called a cackle, but too much malice to be called anything else.

Her yellow eyes did not glow as much in the darkness as Cynder would have expected or hoped, they were not adequate light sources at all, but as they were the only hint of colour in an ocean of blackness at least there was no chance of losing visual track of where she was.

Her wind magic was stretched out, scanning the other dragon for any hint of movement or aggression, but Darkmire was busy, revelling in cruel pleasure with no visible hint of planning an attack.

"Did you see how she leapt?"

Darkmire said in a voice, raspy from laughter.

"Jumped like I'd just bitten off her tail!"

"I saw it." Cynder said flatly.

Cautious but disengaged. Aware of what was going on, ready to defend herself, but not rising to the bait. That was how she had to play this, how to beat someone who wanted to torture her. She'd messed up the first time, given in to anger and lashed out, only to hurt Pleasure by mistake. This time she knew better.

Darkmire waited, head cocked, for Cynder to say more. Her eyes narrowed and she reached out with her mind. Cynder felt the fear magic squirming around her, incorporeal tendrils, tentacles trying to slither into her skull and burrow inside her brain. It made her skin crawl just thinking about it.

She pushed back, radiating fear magic of her own, giving those grasping claws a wall to push against.

She had nothing to give to Darkmire, not by magic at least.

She felt Darkmire trying, first with a push, a shove. There was something she was trying to put into Cynder's mind and her tendrils were punching inwards to try and make it happen. But the closer to Cynder they got the weaker they were, and before long Cynder overpowered them and blocked them off, her wall remaining firm.

She couldn't see it, but she could feel Darkmire's grin in the air, the bloody stink of her breath starting to fill the place more noticeably.

Now she was offering a gift, the thing she had been trying to put into Cynder's mind no longer being forced on her, but rather placed gently into her grasp for her to look at in her own time.

Cynder had never dealt with something like this before, meeting Imperia's wind magic with her own, feeling their magics tangle together softly. That's what it was. Instinctively she looked, and what she saw was a horrible mess of torn flesh and pulped bone. She saw it for a split second before aggressively shoving it back.

She flinched despite herself, and heard the spiteful laugh from Darkmire.

Spark's body.

She growled slightly. She wouldn't fall for that trick again.

"Are you scared?"

Darkmire asked, her voice soft but oozing with mockery.

"You don't like it, just you, me, and the darkness? Hungry, swallowing, devouring. It's okay. Your secrets are safe with us. Secrets spoken to the darkness sink so deep that nobody can find them. Oh how many secrets, how many Pleasures have spoken to the darkness, baring their hearts and spilling their souls. They're never coming back. The only one who can speak of their secrets would be me, but I won't tell."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter with each word, luring Cynder in to try and make her lean closer to hear it. Cynder instead used her wind magic to keep track of the words, she would not get close.

"You can tell me, Cynder. You can tell me if you're scared…"

"Fine. I'm scared."

Cynder said.

"You don't sound scared…"

Darkmire said in disappointment.

Cynder shrugged.

Boring. That was what she had to be. She had to tell the truth, but make the truth as uninteresting as possible.

"Well I am scared. Now you and the darkness both know that."

Darkmire slowly stood up, her fragile stick insectile body seeming almost as if it was lifted by strings, like a puppet. She took a step forwards. Cynder took a step back.

"You know that Pleasure doesn't even blame you for shattering her jaw. It's disappointing. So disappointing. I broke her apart so completely that she can't even hate. At least… she thinks she can't…"

She laughed knowingly.

"It makes me wish that I'd built her up a little bit more. I would have, if I had known that my home was going to receive such fascinating visitors. Enough to make her hold it against you. But at least the memory is fresh in her mind. The memory of your paw, hardened by a blast of wind, striking forwards, filling her vision, and then crack!"

"I'll make it up to her eventually."

Cynder responded flatly.

Darkmire leaned forwards, making Cynder take another step back.

"I can give you time to do that. I can give you an eternity in here. Just you and me."

Cynder just shrugged. Darkmire continued.

"So… what would you eat first?"

"What?"

Cynder asked, confused despite herself.

Darkmire licked her lips and stepped closer, Cynder responded with a step back.

"Your wings… or your tail?"

She grinned.

"When the hunger starts… when your belly begins to burn burn buuuuurn with desperation. When licking up dust and dirt and your own waste, your own shit, is no longer enough to satisfy. And your claws are chewed down to the quick… and then your fingers start to look veeeeery tasty… What would you eat first?"

Cynder carefully controlled her expression, she shoved the thoughts away. It was sickening, it was horrible. It was exactly what she should have expected from Darkmire.

She felt the tendrils of fear getting stronger, trying to poke into her, and seeming to get more powerful as they fed off Cynder revulsion. She pushed back, calming her mind and centring herself.

"That's disgusting. You're disgusting. Keep trying to get into my head if you like, or we can just move on to what you wanted to talk about."

"Why, you're not letting me in Cynder! How could I possibly get into your head?"

She said in a high pitched mocking tone.

"With your words."

Cynder said flatly.

"I think I'd eat my wings."

"Good, good! I didn't even have to insist!"

Darkmire laughed.

"There have been a thousand different Pleasures, each time she breaks too much I wipe her away and start again. So many secrets lost… So many times that same choice has been made. You join a long line of black dragonesses, my dear Cynder. And now I'd like to offer you another little black dragoness secret, so we can have a proper heart to heart chat."

"Will the secret help me save Spyro?"

Cynder said. Boring. Polite, insistent, not trying to hide how much she wanted to know the answer; but doing her best to give Darkmire as little ammunition as possible.

Darkmire took two rapid steps forwards.

Cynder, after a moment took two steps back, but this time Darkmire matched her, taking two steps forwards once again. Cynder stopped, then took a third step back which Darkmire also matched. Now they were two steps closer together and Darkmire was keeping it that way.

Wait a minute.

This room was barely ten steps wide.

Cynder turned and looked around, her wind magic expanding in every direction, her tail reaching out for the wall, and finding nothing.

No walls. No clear sense of direction.

"What did you do?" She hissed slightly.

Darkmire had moved closer while Cynder had been trying to figure out what was going on.

"Nothing. It's all in your mind."

She let out a low sinister chuckle, which almost seemed to make the world rumble. The sound was muffled, like they were underwater, and the floor felt… wet. Cynder didn't like it at all.

"Shadow magic? Fear magic?"

Cynder narrowed her eyes, reaching out now with her shadow element and finding that they were indeed surrounded by thick gooey shadow. She solidified the floor beneath her feet, a flat and trustworthy surface for now, but everything outside her immediate reach was nightmarishly unfamiliar and distorted.

Darkmire's yellow eyes were starting to glow red, her deep rumbling laugh was making the walls shake.

"I'm still scared."

Cynder said.

"The secret, the special special secret. The secret you already know deep down inside. Lets explore your mind shall we?"

"You explore my mind just fine with your words. Go ahead and do it that way."

Cynder said.

"A secret just for us. A secret you already know. Show me your magic Cynder. Show me."

Darkmire opened her mouth, and a river of blood poured out, her eyes beginning to drip blood and create waterfalls. The puddle spreading out across the floor as the walls began to drip as well, darkness raining and splashing down from the roof.

"It's a dream."

Cynder hissed.

"I'm right, aren't I? This isn't real."

Blood was lapping around her ankles, the scent was overpowering. She reached down with her wing and scooped up some of it and splashed it straight towards Darkmire's face.

The splash hit Darkmire directly, but she didn't react in the slightest, the liquid rising around them.

Cynder closed her eyes, turning away, liquid swirling, sucking and dragging around her like quicksand.

"It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream. How do I break out?"

"Something the matter, Cynder?"

She clenched her eyes shut hard, giving up on trying to keep her feet out of the blood. Instead she pushed down, through the blood, through the shadows, her claws digging and stabbing and wiggling downwards until, there!

Something solid. Really solid. Real. Stone.

She pushed her paw down onto the stone, feeling the scratches and the rough texture. It wasn't even wet. It was normal stone. She brought her other paw down next to it and pushed it down until it hit the floor too.

The blood was rising to her neck, past her chest, but it felt less real now. She had been right. This was some kind of dream, but this stone would lead her out of it.

She gritted her teeth and clawed over the stone, she wasn't floating in the weightlessness of a liquid. She was on the ground, with perfectly normal gravity.

The blood rose over her head, but she kept breathing, and when she did it felt like nothing but smoke. She coughed slightly and spat it out, opening her eyes and seeing the darkness of the cell, faintly illuminated by red light. There was no blood. Darkmire wasn't even standing, she still lay where she had been from the start.

They were still standing exactly where they had been the entire time.

"All in your mind." Darkmire repeated with a laugh.

"This is what will save Spyro? How? How did you stay aware of what I was doing and saying if it was all in my mind? I already know that using intense fear magic on him was enough to cause his normal side and his dark side to meet face to face. He told me about a place of water, and floating on a leaf. How do I get there? How do I join him in the water place?"

Darkmire's grin faded into shadow as the light left the room, only her faintly glowing yellow eyes remaining.

"By discovering the secret…"

"Discovering the secret."

Cynder repeated.

"It's not a good secret is it? Are you going to just give it to me, or are we going to play twenty questions?"

Darkmire's eyes started to dim, disappearing into the darkness, and a cold breeze was blowing into the room from somewhere, confusing Cynder's wind senses.

Mountain air, cold, from outside. She could practically taste the night sky out there. How badly she wished she could be under the stars…

There must be a crack in the cell somewhere, a twisting crevasse leading outwards, winding back on itself and eventually peeking out into the tiniest of caves somewhere on the mountain slopes.

Yeah right. This was another dream.

The fact that it was another dream didn't worry her. What worried her was that she didn't know how it was happening, and that the cold breeze was starting to mess up her wind senses and making it harder to tell where Darkmire was.

And even as she had that thought she reached out and the cell was empty.

She scanned over the area, still in absolute darkness, her wind magic grabbing and clawing softly at the walls and roof, hunting for a physical form, but there was nothing.

"You couldn't just tell me in words?" Cynder muttered. At that she reminded herself that Darkmire might be trying to slip tendrils of fear into her mind. Had she already succeeded? Is that what this was? For a moment Cynder thought about surging her own fear magic to try and blast out any influence being exerted on her, but she also got the feeling that she might be expected to play along with this game.

She kept her guard up, her wind magic reaching out into the darkness, ready to dodge an attack while she paced around the cell. She couldn't find the door, even though she knew where it was. She tapped the wall and it was just blank stone. The scratches caused by Pleasure or Darkmire or whoever clawing and digging at the walls were not there, she suddenly realised. Just smooth stone.

She dragged her claws over the wall, creating traces of dust, but no significant impact. She would have to scrape her claws nearly down to the bone in order to create just one of the claw gouges which were here in the real world.

Her tail lashed against the wall, screeching horribly off the stone, making her stop with a pained wince. She hated that sound, and especially in an enclosed space.

She considered clawing at where the door was supposed to be, blasting it with wind or spitting acid on it or something, but in this dream was there even a point? The door might not even be where it was supposed to be, it might have been swapped to the other side somehow. Maybe there just wasn't a door at all, and she was buried in miles of solid stone with no way out aside from that faint breeze which was taunting her.

She raised her head to the ceiling, homing in on a spot in one of the corners where the fresh air was coming from. If she turned herself to shadows then she would no doubt be able to fit into it. Following that was probably a stupid idea, Darkmire could be waiting for her, or have some sort of trap planned. After a moment of consideration she stayed put, just keeping an eye on the crack and trying not to think too hard about how small and strangling the cell was.

"Twenty questions it is, then."

Cynder sighed.

"Is the cell a clue? Or are you just trying to make me uncomfortable?"

She looked around, but got only silence in response.

"Do you ever wish that you'd had someone to share this with?" Cynder asked the empty air. "After you broke Pleasure's mind however many times, you probably got bored of it."

Nothing. Cynder walked across the cell and sat down in the corner opposite where she knew Darkmire was probably still sitting in the real world.

"We can just sit here until the door opens and I'll save Spyro by figuring things out for myself." Cynder threatened the empty room.

After a few moments the crevasse in the ceiling began to open slightly, so narrow that a rat would struggle to fit through, but Cynder was able to turn to smoke and drift through the gap under a door, so this would be an easy fit. With an irritated grunt Cynder went for it, floating upwards and shrouding herself in shadow as she entered.

As the last of her shadows flowed into the tiny gap it snapped shut behind her. Cynder gritted her teeth. She'd been expecting that, but it didn't make her hate it any less.

Being a shadow in a place too small for her to emerge again was nowhere near as bad as being trapped in a tight space was. It was a step removed, like she was peeking through a window into a tight space rather than being trapped in the space herself. Despite this it still made her breathe hard, her shadows turning gooey and full of sharp spikes instead of soft and smoky as they reflected her worry.

She began to move along the crack, flowing up it like water, deeply uncomfortable as she heard and felt it closing behind her.

The crack twisted one way, then another. She started to lose her sense of direction. What good was being able to track her position under the stars when there were no stars? Had she turned right more times than she had turned left? How sharp had the turns been? Was she even still travelling upwards.

Minutes passed, she didn't know how many, but she didn't feel like she was getting any closer to the surface. So she stopped moving, just settling in the darkness and daring the crack to close on her all the way.

It would be fine, it was just a dream, and yet she felt so trapped and isolated in a tiny pocket of air inside a vast mass of rock.

"Will you just get on with it?" Cynder growled, pushing her fear aside.

She had to assert herself if she wanted to get information. She needed Darkmire to talk to her again. She had to do something which felt extremely stupid, but which was hopefully brave and smart. She closed her eyes and then emerged from her shadows.

There wasn't enough space for her to emerge properly, but there was also no real rock around her. In fact she was standing in clear space, and this was all in her mind. With a growl she shoved herself into the tight rock, and sure enough it melted away like smoke before her.

She opened her eyes back in the cell, Darkmire's yellow eyes still on her.

"Fuck you."

Cynder hissed at her.

Finally Darkmire reacted, a low and sinister laugh, taunting her.

In the first moment when Cynder had met Darkmire and they'd each thrown a blast of fear magic at each other she had seen that Darkmire had felt the impact. In fact she'd come off seemingly worse than Cynder.

"Your turn now."

Cynder spat at her, reaching out with a powerful claw of fear magic and trying to wrap it around Darkmire like a strangling hand, going for her throat and her skull.

Darkness.

Suddenly she was falling. Wind rushing around her as she fell into black space.

Instinctively Cynder stretched out her wings, and suddenly she was flying and there was only open space around her.

Below her was another shape, still falling, tumbling. Emaciated wings not strong enough to make her fly. Darkmire was falling, those yellow eyes occasionally flashing, and the distant sound of laughter reaching Cynder's ears as she plummeted.

It was a night sky, there were stars, and a beautiful pair of crescent moons; one green tinted and one red tinted.

Cynder folded her wings and dived, chill night air rushing past her as she raced down to catch up, finally pulling out of her dive a short way above Darkmire and allowing herself to fall. There was no ground for them to hit.

This was Cynder's world. They were in Cynders dream this time.

At least she hoped so. She was making this up as she went along, taking a memory of flying in the night sky and just shoving it in Darkmire's face over and over until it stuck.

Fear magic was instinctive, she did what her feelings instructed her to do, and her feelings were telling her to just attack.

She was half aware of the real world, standing in the cell, everything was illuminated by red light as a thick smoky tendril of pure fear magic stretched from her pointing claw straight to Darkmire's head. The dark black dragon had her eyes closed and was occasionally twitching, twitches corresponding to each flap of her ragged wings in the dream, and a faint hint of malicious laughter occasionally twisting her mouth into a sinister grin.

It was weird, intensely weird; but also easier than she'd expected it to be.

In the real world she took a heavy step towards Darkmire, and she felt her control over the dream grow a little bit stronger, although her control over her body in the real world was worryingly tenuous.

She watched the other black dragon tumble, spinning like a top in the wind. She hadn't flown for millennia, probably didn't know how to.

"Stretch out your wings and your tail."

Cynder said, narrowing her wings a little to speed herself up until she was falling exactly in pace with Darkmire.

After a while Darkmire did as Cynder instructed, and her fall stabilised. She was still rotating in place, but not completely out of control. And she was still laughing.

"Good! Good!"

Darkmire laughed.

"But sometimes lies reveal more than truth!"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

Cynder replied, raising her voice over the rushing wind. But she could control this whole vision, couldn't she?

She focused her mind and the wind died down until it felt like they were floating peacefully in empty space, no longer falling. Just afloat in a sea of stars.

"You're not pushing hard enough." Darkmire laughed. "You will never be able to use this power until you understand it! Rip her out of me! Try and take her!"

She let out a horrible screech, baring her teeth at Cynder and snapping at her.

Cynder raised a dream paw and flicked a finger, the world expanding around them and sending Darkmire away from her to a safer distance. Darkmire seemed to be totally losing it. Was it the fear magic, or was she acting?

"Take who?" She asked with a growl. But even as she asked the question she realised the answer.

She had come here to learn how to 'rip' Hope out of Spyro. And Darkmire had Pleasure. Maybe Pleasure really was reduced to just living inside of Darkmire.

Darkmire was trying to goad her into doing it, which meant it was obviously a bad idea. But Darkmire was also correct about one thing: She would have to push much harder if she wanted to split the dark side from the light.

Maybe she should try it.

Suddenly there was ground below them and they were still falling.

Darkmire was laughing as they fell, grassy plains like those outside of Warfang were rushing up to meet them, and as Cynder hit the ground gravity faded away and she was aware of standing in the cell once again, hearing the sound of a splat and scream of agony as Darkmire hit the ground and jolted to consciousness in the real world, laughing. Unharmed, challenging, mocking, but with a little bit of shakiness in her voice.

"You want to be pushed? Fine. Lets go again."

Cynder growled.

Red light flooded the room.

Yes! Finally some more fight scene!

Writing this was fun, a battle of the minds, Darkmire using cruel trickery as she so enjoys, while Cynder remains stubbornly focused. But now she's starting to realise just how much she can do with her fear magic. And she has no intention of holding back.

My favorite part of this chapter was being able to subtly play with the dimensions of the cell, hopefully it gave you a feeling of wrongness from even before Cynder consciously realised that something was wrong herself.

Let me know if this chapter was as creepy, exciting, enjoyable, or hopefully all three!

Thanks for reading!

Until next time.

-4Dragons