'The burden you carry is a difficult one, isn't it? Not just because of the expectations the elders placed upon you… but because of how hard they pushed you. You were so eager to learn from them too, ironically enough.
How many elements have you mastered already? Hmm? It must have taken you a considerable amount of time and work. But they aren't happy… are they? They wanted more from you. They should be grateful with how hard you work and how fast you're learning, and how eager you are for more.
When you tapped into the Aether for the first time… what did you feel? What was the power like? Was it everything you've come to expect from your heritage? In fact… What is the purpose of mastering these elements? What is the purpose of a purple dragon?
I know you ask these questions yourself too, young dragon. But I know better than the elders. I can help you understand who you truly are, and what your place is in the world. More than just a simple protector of the realms. Just follow me, if you please.
Who am I? Well… I'm nobody important really. Just a stranger whose only purpose is to impart wisdom upon dragons who struggle to understand themselves.
Come with me, Malefor, and I will show you what it means to be a purple dragon, to be a true dragon, and what your purpose in this world truly is.'
—
What many feared to be a dream became a reality. The day after the fall of Malefor, the golden sun emerged over the horizon, unhindered for the first time in many years. The dawn of a new day, the beginning of a new era, signified by the vibrant orange glow of life, warmth, and light. After fourteen long years, it was as though there was finally peace in the realms. Promises of harmony and serenity were assured, but the cost to maintain them was another matter entirely.
Once the purple dragon returned alongside his mate, he brought with him the next generation of dragons: four brothers, two sisters. Earth, fire, ice, and electricity respectively. The fifth had an unusual dark scale color and pattern reminiscent of his mother, and the sixth child, perhaps even more unusual, was purple like his father.
It was odd, for the purple dragons always appeared once every ten generations, prophesied to bring about a new era of hope and peace. What could it mean? No one was certain. Not even the guardians. But all the same, he existed, and his parents were none the wiser for all they knew was love for their children.
To ensure the safety of not just their children, but for all the creatures of the dragon realms, the hero and his mate were chosen to become king and queen, and forged the Council of Warfang, headed by the guardians and their new apprentices. Through community and diplomacy, they strove to keep the peace and harmony, even when there were those who took advantage of it.
However, the struggle of leading the realm and balancing the responsibility of the realm alongside the responsibility he has to his family began to weigh heavily upon him. All the same, as he usually did, he carried through with a smile. However, even during times of peace, there will always be those willing to disrupt it. Either for their own benefit, or because the trust in the elders had been irrevocably destroyed, warlords prowled through the old ape territories, waging war against each other and against the new kingdom of Warfang. As for the purple dragon, well, a hero's work is never done. But this time, he came to realize that he was not alone in facing these new threats. He had never been alone, and never will be... for the next generation of dragons will carry the flames of peace.
—
It was early in the morning, so early in fact that the sun had not even arisen yet. All was quiet in the massive Palace of Warfang. Spyro and Cynder had already left to convene with the council for another early morning deliberation, leaving them in Sparx's care until their return. Unbeknownst to the sleeping dragonfly however, the palace was missing one occupant.
A young female ice dragon by the name of Brisk darted across the massive long hallways of their home, into one of the many brass bedrooms that held her and her siblings, and found her brother Ignitus, the fire dragon.
"Ignitus! Wake up!" his sister called out as she rocked the fire dragon's side. "Mal's fled the palace again, I can't find him anywhere!"
The icy young dragoness started to hop on the sleeping fire drake's other side and pushed against his back. "Come on! Wake up!"
Ignitus' eyes fluttered as the weight of his sister and her high pitch voice stirred him from his slumber. "Mfmrh… wh-what? I'm… I'm up. I'm up…" he mumbled as he closed his eyes again. After a few seconds, he began to snore.
"Ignitus! Nghg! Come on! You are not up!" Eventually, she dropped Ignitus when it was clear she couldn't get him up.
With a huff, she pulled aside and began charging her ice breath. She apologized to her brother in her head as she shot a cold breath along his backside which caused him to jolt.
"Ah! Brisk!" Ignitus cried out as he started to breathe hot air on his rump. "What was that for?!"
"Because you wouldn't wake up!"
"And why were you trying to wake me up in the first place? Do you know what time it is?"
Brisk let out an annoyed huff. "Of course I do! I know what time it is because I saw Mal sneak out of the bedroom and flew off!"
Ignitus' eyes widened when she said that. It wasn't the first time he snuck out like that but certainly not this early in the morning. He knew though that whatever it was Mal was up to, it couldn't have been good. Fortunately, he had a pretty good idea as to where he was going.
"Oh no… Mal, you wouldn't," he said aloud.
"Wouldn't… what?"
"Remember the new statue that the moles just finished in honor of dad?"
Brisk was a smart dragon, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what Mal was up to when Ignitus asked her that question. Their purple brother had been eyeing that statue with a fierce look in his eyes for quite a while. It was a very angry look he had.
"You mean he would mess up the statue of dad…" she said.
Ignitus nodded. "I'm afraid he would. Bet you it'll be dust before we get there. And that's the best case scenario. I'm going over there right now."
"You are not going to be fighting with him again. Can't you just wake up uncle Sparx instead? Mal listens to him!" Brisk pleaded.
She knew there was going to be another altercation between the two brothers. Since they were hatchlings, they did nothing but argue and fight over the most innocuous little issues that Mal caused. Fortunately, their sister Terra was always there to break them apart. Usually with her earth infused fists. Other times it was Ashes who appealed more to their empathy rather than beating them down like Terra did.
Only Terra was asleep, and so was Ashes. Ignitus was too stubborn and too courteous to even want to bother his uncle or his siblings, always thinking he had to be the one to clean up his brother's messes.
"Sure, he'll listen. But he'll forget everything uncle Sparx tells him a week later. I need to knock some sense into him. It's the only language that he apparently understands." And with that, he turned to make his way out of the balcony of his bedroom.
Before Brisk could protest even further, Ignitus took off, flying toward the central district of Warfang. Which left Brisk having to wake up the rest of her family to stop the brothers in their nonsense fight.
"Ig! You stupid… stupid… stupidstupidstupid!" Brisk continued to call her brother stupid as she ran out into her siblings' respective rooms, including uncle Sparx's room who had the littlest looking armchair that he fell asleep on.
Though her incessant insults were enough to wake even Terra up, and she was normally a heavy sleeper. The ragged looking green female picked her head up from her mat, smacking her lips together.
"Terra!" Brisk called out.
"Whoa… that's like… twenty-seven stupids I counted there Brisk…" Terra said as she extended her forearms across the ground and stretched. "What's the deal? Volt got his head stuck in the cookie jar again?"
"No Terra you rock head! It's Mal and Iggy!" Brisk replied.
Terra rubbed her eyes as she yawned. "Oh. They fighting again?"
"No but they will be soon! Mal snuck out and Ignitus went after him after I told him!"
Terra blinked a few times and then shook her head. "Brisk, you gotta learn to never tell Ignitus first about anything Mal does."
The ice dragon winced and shook her head. "I know I know but… listen. We should just wake up uncle Sparx and stop those two knuckleheads before they embarrass themselves!"
"Pssshh... you always get embarrassed whenever we're out in public, Brisk. But yeah I don't want our family looking any worse then what those two are already doing. If we wake up Sparx and tell him though, you know he's gonna get dad. Right?"
"I mean… yeah I know that. I don't know what else to do!"
Terra picked herself up and sighed. Without saying another word, she made her way out of her bedroom and into uncle Sparx's room. The dragonfly was snoring rather heavily, in and out, sputtering. Just like the time when they were all hatchlings and they wore him out to the point of exhaustion over a game of 'catch the dragonfly.' It was Terra's favorite activity.
Terra took a deep breath in and yelled; "Yo, uncle Sparx! Iggy and Mally are going to fight again!"
That yell was enough to wake him right off his seat. The dragonfly yelled aloud as he started to spin around.
"Ahhh! I swear ma I didn't eat the pecan worm pie! I-I-I-" he stopped once he realized it was Terra who had yelled, and Brisk followed up alongside her. "W-what are you two girls doing up this early in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed? And why'd you scare me like that?"
"Brisk said Mal snuck out and Iggy went after him," said the earth dragoness as terse and plain as possible.
"Mal snuck… Iggy went… what? Oh no… how far has Iggy Jr. gone out?"
Brisk shook her head. "He left about five minutes ago. They went to the central plaza of Warfang."
"Ohhh… ohhhhhh booooyyy… Yeah we might as well get your father then." he stretched his arms up, cracked his back, let out a sigh and began to fly off. "You two see if you can't get them to stop before your father arrives."
—
Mal hated his dad. He hated everything there was to do with him. He hated what a purple dragon meant, what he's supposed to be, what his dad was, what everyone expected him to be. Of course, he he didn't always think about it. However, as he got older, every dragon including their mother all sang songs and praises for the purple dragon and his protege.
Even his dad said he was gifted. Not just by who and what he was, but by how fast he was able to control all four elements. First fire, then ice, lightning and earth, all within the span of a single year. Mastery over the elements was a different story.
At first, he didn't think much of it six years ago. Spyro and Cynder were crowned king and queen of Warfang. He and his siblings stood side by side of each other, looking out into the massive crowd of people beneath them from the palace balcony. So many creatures from across the realm came to see them. from dragons to the atlawans, moles, cheetahs, manweresmalls, and some he had never even seen before. So many people. He wanted to hide away from them.
Mal was shown off, and the dragon who had coronated the king and queen, spoke in a loud booming voice how the next purple dragon will continue his bloodline's legacy and bring hope to all. Words that felt more like a curse to him now than they did back then.
Time passed, and when he was ten years old he was brought before the new Council of Warfang. The cold hard stares of the elder dragons who looked upon him with caution, curiosity, and even intrigue were so uneasy. When he was asked to perform before them his abilities, he fumbled... time and time again. And he remembered how he was a baby when he learned to use all four of his elemental breaths. Why did they fail him now?
The guardians, his father's mentors, were gentle and easy with their words concerning his abilities. The others however, not so much. Especially the tall, mean looking red drake. He would have to train hard, they said. This was an unacceptable display, and he needed proper tutoring. His father could not train him, for he had new duties to uphold. What a purple dragon should be, how they should act, Everyone's perception of the idea of the purple dragon were pushed upon Mal. For every mistake he made, he was criticized for it. It had been like that for years. So they sent him to the academy where he would learn to master his abilities and learn what it means to become the master of the elements.
His siblings all had something to make for themselves. Some were better than others, like Ignitus. How he was so much like the forebear his namesake was taken from. How quick he learned fire, how wise he was for his age! Truly the spirit of the guardian now lives on in him. And now everywhere Mal went, everything he did, his brother was always behind him. Just like everyone else, he was judging him. He could see it in those warm orange eyes of his.
Mal wanted nothing to show or prove. He just wanted to be like every other dragon. It was always the same with every dragon he knew. Such as how during recess, he made a large mud ball to roll down the halls of the academy just to impress his sister Terra who always had perfect mud balls. He got detention and scolding for 'disrespecting' the halls from which the ancestors once walked.
Or when Ashes was being picked on for being a cursed dragon carrying the legacy of the Dark Master's influence in his blood. Mal and Ignitus made sure not a single soul would ever talk down to him like that again, much less even look his way. Was he praised for his duty to stand up for another creature? No. "you were out of control and acted unbecoming of a hero." was what one of his tutors said to him.
Or even when his knowledge was put to the test on dragon history. History that he wouldn't even know about even with how much he paid attention to the lectures. Much of the history was taught by parents to their children. Spyro grew up with a family of dragonflies. Cynder barely had a family of her own. All they had was second hand knowledge of events recent in their times by the guardians who sought to fight against the chaos Malefor caused throughout the world. He didn't even get half the answers right. With how much time he was spent trying to maser his powers, he could barely even comprehend the lessons that all young dragons would and should know by now. 'A purple dragon should know his legacy and his history,' they would say.
They always singled him out. They always criticized him and chastised him. And where exactly was dad in all this? Where he was usually found: in the great round table of the city council, or half-asleep in the palace quarters with barely a thought as to what and how his kids were all feeling, how Mal was feeling. No "Sure son I'll help you with history." or "Don't worry Mal, I'll talk to the teachers about your suspension."
And what about his mom? What about Cynder? Always trying to play the middle ground between the siblings, between him and his father. At the very least, she was there whenever he needed help. Even if her bloodline was neither fire or ice or lightning or anything, even when she knew nothing, she helped train them in physical combat. She taught him how to fight. But that was about it. Her focus was always on Ashes who needed someone like her to teach him control over his own unusual powers. There was no one he could turn to for help, to tell him what it is he should really do.
Mal felt as though he was drowning. Every day he suffered from headaches. Every day he was suffocating as the judging eyes of every dragon fell upon him no matter where he went or what he did. He wanted to just fly away, fly away and escape from their stares. But more importantly, he just wanted his father to acknowledge him. That he was not the 'son of the purple dragon.' He was not some 'protégé' taking up the mantle of the next purple dragon. He wanted him, and everyone to realize, that he was Mal the dragon.
The sight of his father's statue standing tall and proud, wings stretched out as he overlooked the city with a benevolent gaze. It made him angry. Being compared to that, being compared to something he knew deep down he could never become.
Look at you dad. Really taking in the role of the hero of the realms, aren't you? So much so that they built this eyesore in the middle of the city.
Mal sat there on the beaten stone road. Around him, the streets were quiet. The massive plaza was empty. Not a single soul save for Mal who was holding an opened bucket of green paint as he stood before the majestic statue. Sharp, smooth masonry, a testament of the craftsmoleship.
I think you need a better makeover. Something that perfectly represents who you are.
The purple dragon took flight, can in claw as he dipped the other into the bucket as he began to deface the… well the face of the statue. Nothing short of a clown would perfectly describe his father. So, he gave it a stupid fro, goofy cross-eyes, dumb smile and a tongue sticking out.
Just as soon as the fun began, the mood-killer himself appeared. Like always, he carried with him an angry scowl.
"Mal!" Ignitus called out. "Mal what are you doing!? You can't just deface dad's statue!"
But the purple drake ignored him as he continued to paint the statue, humming a tune all the while.
"Mal don't you dare ignore me!" The dragon flew closer, about ready to clonk him on the head.
When he came close however, Mal just swooped away and twirled around the statue. "I think… 'ass' would be fitting for the epitaph. What do you think Iggy?"
"Don't you Iggy me Mal! You're going to get in trouble again! Do you know how hard the Moles worked on this statue!?"
Mal just shrugged. He did not want to grace Ignitus with an answer. No matter how many times he argued with him about it, it was like talking to a brick wall. It was never about what Ignitus could do to help Mal. More like how Mal should shape up into his role. He bet he was going to do just that again.
He wasn't going to give him the opportunity. He was going to let him know exactly what he thought. "Listen Ig," Mal started as he looked over to where his brother was. "I think you should know well enough by now the hows and whys of what I do. The fact you're even asking me at all is proof enough that you don't really know at all."
"I know who you are, Mal and this isn't like you! You may do stupid stuff but this is a whole other level!"
"Oh come off it!" he snapped back and threw the paint bucket at the statue. "What do you know about me? You're too busy trying to live up to the idea of our dad's dead mentor to even give a damn about me like you do with everyone else!"
A part of him was hurt by what he had said. Not just because he felt as though Mal's words were true, but because he couldn't bear to admit it himself. "What is with you Mal?!" Ignitus snapped back.
"You're just like everyone else, that's what. You're always on my case over every little thing that I do that's bad for the family."
"Then perhaps they're right then! You should act like the dragon everyone expects you to be!"
That was the last straw. Mal, boiling with anger now, decided enough was enough and charged at the head of the statue with his earth element. With enough force he knocked it off the statue, sending it careening toward Ignitus who barely had time to dodge out of the way.
The head struck one of the marketplace buildings, causing a massive hole in the wall.
"Mal what the hell?!" was all Ignitus said before Mal tackled him.
—
It was another early morning at the Council of Warfang where the delegations turned into another debacle. The least restrained of the old dragons were yelling at one another while others, such as the guardians, sat and listened. It was more of that he said/she said kind of arguments about the direction and stances Warfang was taking or should take. While the king always had the final say, it was more about a show of ego between old rivals.
Spyro just wanted some sleep. The politics of the state bored him to no end. And his mate Cynder certainly was not a fan of it either. They were still relatively young adult dragons who only stood up to the plate as leaders to serve as an inspiring figure for a peace to come. They had no knowledge and wanted nothing to do with politics at all. All this talk and waste of time did little in actually improving things. They took action. Spyro wanted to help the people in need. All this nonsense about voting to take action for this thing or that thing wasn't really doing anything for anyone in the long run. Unfortunately, to keep the dragon clans together, delegations like these had to be made.
Cyril, the guardian of ice who always proclaimed himself to be true blue blood, was facing second hand embarrassment of these particular dragons who called themselves nobility. All while a shouting match raged between the two fire drakes Magnus and Red.
"You expect killers and barbarians who have betrayed the dragon race to pay reparations to the people?! And I thought Nestor's proposal was ridiculous! You should expect nothing short of race traitors who offer their kin's lives up for money and power! They are worse than the apes!" Red yelled.
"And you do not understand the importance of the dragonpower and resources the realms require to recover from this thousand year war! How many of the other races fear and hate us! We need every able bodied hand and claw to do their part to become the example that we are the proud and just race that will come to the defense of this world, and that includes the criminals and prisoners of war paying for the damages!"
Red snarled under his breath. "You expect too much from gluttonous Frogweed who eat through those resources in the first place! And you expect them to give it back!? They will not! Nothing short of execution is what they need!"
"And what of those who didn't partake in the war? Are you going to punish them too?!"
"Any dragon who has not laid their claws in defense of the realms is an enemy of the realms regardless of their role!"
It was already becoming another useless morning of nothing getting anything done. Spyro just wanted a day to himself and Cynder mostly. In fact, he wanted a day with just his entire family in general. The kids were really roughing it and for the past few years, they were acting without restraint. Mal especially, and he had promised Cynder last night that he was going to take priority in being more involved in their lives. Well, more than what they're already doing.
Cynder tried her best to do what she could for her kids. Though she knew it was more work for any one dragon to take on their own. At least for Mal, if Spyro would focus on just him, it would be a good opportunity to mend the strained relationship they had.
"Well, this is one way to start our morning, wouldn't you say?" Cynder commented under her breath. She looked over to the side and gave gave Spyro a knowing-'gods I really wish I wasn't here right now too'-smile. "Didn't think we had to be called in at four in the morning just to make a decision on… what was it again?"
Spyro let out an audible yawn that only the guardians and Cynder could hear. While Cyril gave a disapproving look, he said nothing. He had to sympathize with his student's plight since he sure as hell didn't want to be there either. "I'm not gonna scold you for it anyhow because you wouldn't be in the wrong this time." was what he'd probably say to him.
"I don't know Cynder. Something about Frogweeds?" He was joking of course. Though he did give her a more legitimate answer. "Magnus offered a proposition that got Red screaming his head off as usual. Red was all for execution for those who did not take part in the war against Malefor, or even those who joined with him as an example that we will not tolerate evil. Nestor argued to pardon them, saying mercy would set an example for the rest of the world who have lived their lives in fear. Magnus argued for them to pay reparations, saying that they should dedicate their lives to paying back to the realms who suffered from war."
Spyro shook his head as he continued. "It's been fourteen years! They should have talked about that when it was still relevant. Shouldn't they have focused their time into discussing the issues with the settlements caught in the crossfire of skirmishes? You know… problems that we are facing in the here and now? I was talking to Cyril about it yesterday on how the warlords were becoming more aggressive."
"I mean… you do take care of those issues yourself with how you sneak out of the city during these delegations." Cynder shook her head and chuckled. "Still the same as always. Never change on me, hero boy."
Spyro chuckled in response before he nodded his head toward one of the younger looking earth dragons on the council. "Well I know Nestor had been trying to get that on the table since last week. The whole topic of the war criminals had been an on-and-off subject for years. In fact, the defense of the settlements was supposed to be the first topic to cover today. But…"
The shadow dragoness peered over from her seat to take a look at the angry red dragon from across the room. "Lemme guess, Red?"
"Yup. Making it difficult as always." Spyro nodded and sighed. "I just want to go home and be with you and the kids. I didn't expect there would be this much work with the council. You'd think there wouldn't be a day where we can actually reach a resolution that didn't take up an entire week let alone a year."
Cynder smiled and gently nuzzled up against his shoulder. "You're still king. You do have the final say after all regardless if they decide what resolution should be passed."
"Up until majority votes decide to veto my decision. Outside of you and the guardians, the only true supporter I have really is Nestor."
"I mean… Terrador did make him his apprentice as the next earth guardian after all. From what he's told us about him so far, he seemed like an alright dragon."
"True. But then again... what really constitutes as an 'alright' dragon? There's still a lot I got to learn."
Nestor was one of the younger dragons of the council of Warfang who Terrador chose to be the next earth guardian. He was only a century old. As far as Spyro knew about dragon age and physiology, being a century years old was enough for any dragon to be considered a young adult. Yet he carried weight with his stance, his words, and his actions. He was wise and kind. He already made a good impression on just about everyone in the family after helping Terra with how to use her earth flail.
The couple then turned their heads to the other end of the room to look at Terrador, who calmly watched the whole argument play out in its typical fashion. He was calm and collected. Terrador was more of a warrior than a politician, and he was looking at this entire room like it was one large battle map. He was plotting his next move, his next choice of words, predicting his enemies' next arguments like he would their movements. Given that Ignitus had chosen him to be the leader of the guardians, his authority held more weight than the rest of the council due to the experience he had.
"Speaking of Terrador… he looks like he's about done with this," Cynder added. "I would be too with these old coots. Err… no offense meant to the guardians. But I do find it funny how he's treating this all like some grand strategy."
Spyro looked back at Cynder and chuckled. "I just want to go out and help people in person rather than sitting here behind this oversized table. I can't just stay here knowing that there are still people in need. How do they get anything done?."
"You've a kind heart with more patience than I do, love. I know I don't have the patience for this. I only come here because I want to support you." She nuzzled against him once more before she pulled back. "Remember you're still one dragon. You're going to need all the help you can get, as usual. Just bring out your best qualities like you always do. We both know Terrador and the others are going to follow up behind you."
A playful smirk appeared over his lips as he brushed alongside her in a playful manner. "Well that's all well and good but what of the queen herself? Does she have my back?"
Cynder slapped him playfully against his rump with the blunt end of her tail. "Call me 'queen' again and I'll be using the bladed edge this time."
"Ouch! But you are my queen!"
"By title, sure, yeah. Go for it. Just one 'dark queen' out of you though hun, and I'mma cut you.."
Spyro let out a playful gasp. "Oh no! Please have mercy on me!"
"There will be no mercy for you purple dragon of legend!" Cynder threw her head back to make a playful evil laughter.
Then the two started to have a giggle fit with one another that devolved into a playful argument. Normally Cynder hated titles like 'queen' or 'lady Cynder.' There were still bad memories about her time. Though Spyro's playful disposition made it easy for her to overcome those mind worm moments.
Neither of them actually had a moment to truly appreciate the childhood they had left. Almost every day they spent growing up was fighting against a threat that knew not rest nor mercy. They had to grow up, and they had to grow up fast in those moments. What had they left now other than the growing weight of responsibility and adulthood?
The laughter from across the room was enough to catch Red's attention somehow amid the wave of noise. "Is there something that the king and queen would like to share for the court? Or would they like to help us reach a resolution?" he called out.
Immediately all eyes fell on Spyro. On the plus side… the arguments stopped. Now he just had to deal with a dozen or more eyes upon him. It was rather unsettling really. Though at least now he'd be able to make some headway in getting things done.
Spyro stood from his seat and looked to Cynder. "Wish me luck" he mouthed. So what kind of awe inspiring speech was he going to do?
"Dragons of the Council. I have heard your arguments. For too long the debate of what to do with the criminals has run its course. I and the queen believe that now is time for action, not words. Nestor, I've always held the belief that the best way to defeat an enemy is to make them your friend. While this is not the case for everyone, there are those who I believe are deserving of a second chance. There were not many who served the Dark Master willingly. We should not pass judgment so hastily.
"It is true. So many have lost their lives in this war, and there are many who have exploited the chaos and suffering for their own gains. This war had lasted for a thousand years. How we are alive as a species, and so too the many more lives have survived throughout this war, is nothing short of a miracle and a testament to our dedication to preserving the life of every living being in this world. We cannot just readily accept everyone back in open arms. But neither can we reject them. There had been those who had fought alongside the Dark Master who were motivated by fear, or corruption.
"So, I will propose both reparations and pardons. To give those who have fought against us, a chance to redeem themselves. Their debt would not be labor nor indentured servitude. For all the war-torn lands, they will give their services to the people there who suffered the most. Not everyone of us has been given a choice in what we do, or of the destinies in store for us. But I do not believe our futures are pre-determined by any grand plan or cosmic scheme. We should give these people another chance."
There were mummers across the table as the dragons whispered among one another. Some of the dragons weren't so happy with the decision. Red included of course but he barely let his anger known in the presence of the purple dragon. After a few seconds, there came a slow round of applause. They were soft and distinct, but they grew louder as more joined. Eventually, they began to resonate among half the crowd.
Volteer stood up to add his voice. "We congregate on comportments that have yet to be determined. The unflinching ideals of incompatible minds with clashing personalities that have little contrast with one another is responsible for how inauspiciously our council has conducted itself. The time for benevolence must proceed without delay."
There was a short moment of confusion and silence over the large string of words that the studious Volteer had regurgitated on them.
Cyril coughed and took his stand. "I think what Volteer is trying to say is, we have done little in years that the purple dragon can accomplish in hours. The people need us. We are here not to debate amongst each other about what direction the council should take. This council exists to continue working so that we can make the realms a better place. Look around you, look at what this war has wrought."
"I concur," Terrador said as he stood. "We've already passed the period where strong leaders are required. We need someone with empathy, and compassion, someone who knows of hardship and struggle. Someone who had given up so much to save the world, who is still doing his best even now, to bring the realms together again. While we cannot condone the crimes others have committed, we must still pave the way to the path of absolvation and mercy. If there's anyone who knows it better, that is Spyro."
Nestor looked across the room to Magnus, who also looked to him. They both bowed their heads. "Who here wishes to vote for the combined resolution of reparations and pardons for those who have fought against us in the war?" Nestor asked.
Almost the entire table had their forepaws up in the air.
"And for those who wish for execution?" Nestor added.
Only one, Red, of course.
"Who wishes to abstain?"
Only three forepaws were seen in the crowd.
"Does the king wish to officially pass this into law?" He was now addressing the young purple dragon.
Spyro bowed his head. "By my right as king, I wish to pass the new laws. Those who had followed Malefor into conflict will spend approximately one century in the reconstruction efforts and services to the public for the damages they've caused. As such, when their duty to society is fulfilled, we shall give pardon to them, and allow them to walk alongside us again."
A small murmur of voices rose up from the dozen of delegates who were probably theorizing on what this could mean for the future of the realms. Could these dragons and creatures who served the Dark Master be trusted? One would use Cynder as an example of someone who could turn away from that evil and set themselves on the path of good. The very same servant of evil who helped bring an end to the dragon resistance that now claimed the title of queen. Would she have to serve a century? So many questions, so many whispers.
Red, however, was more vocal in his opposition.
"I question the wisdom behind your judgment, young dragon. You may be the purple dragon, but you don't have the centuries of experience needed to handle adult matters such as these," Red said. "But it is your decision regardless."
Cynder scowled at his backhanded remark to her mate. It didn't bother Spyro too much really. He couldn't care less about what anyone had to say about him. So long as it wasn't directed toward his family or friends.
"Watch yourself Red. The purple dragon is your king after all," the black dragoness said with a hint of growl under her throat.
"I am only voicing my concern based on the emotionally driven decisions most young dragons in power tend to make. They are always made with a lack of foresight in mind, blind to the consequences of their actions. They had cost us an entire generation of dragons… and they cost us one of the greatest dragons of the previous generation who made those decisions: the guardian of fire." There wasn't even a smile on Red's lips as he said that.
His usual smug attitude, usually directed at other dragons, was completely still. The fire dragon had this tranquil anger. Spyro did not expect Red to dig at his old mentor. Especially with the hateful tone in his voice. For once, he was at a loss for words. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or upset.
The guardians however, were furious, and an eruption of angry yells coursed throughout the council. Terrador was the first, and he was the most furious. "How dare you, Red! You will not soil Ignitus' name in this chamber! You were not there that night! You would not have understood what happened at the temple!"
Volteer was next. Volteer, Normallychipper and talkative, was now short and terse with his words. "If it were not for Ignitus, there would have been no hope for any of us!"
Next was Cyril. "Yes! And if it wasn't for Ignitus, we would not have the purple dragon among us today! And we would not have survived the war against Malefor!"
Red's voice was soft, but full of venom, with words that cut deeper than steel ever could. "So you had left hundreds if not thousands of eggs to die in hopes of protecting the purple dragon?"
The entire room was still. The guardians were aghast. While still filled with rage, the fire dragon's words had struck a chord with them, reeling in shame. Volteer muttered under his breath of how 'it wasn't like that.' The guardians, dragons of patience, of wisdom, and of level-headedness… had broken down by what had Red just said.
Neither Spyro or Cynder had ever seen them so emotionally destroyed.
"Spyro, what… just happened?" Cynder asked.
Her mate had no answer himself. All he could do was stare into the broken expressions of the three guardians. The tension was so thick now that both Spyro and Cynder felt as though they were suffocating. Nobody said a word. What felt like an eternity was cut short just a few seconds later, when a golden glowing dragonfly entered.
"Spryo bro! Hey! Hey, hey! Hey!" he called out as he flew toward the purple dragon's direction.
Cynder was honestly so relieved to see Sparx this time. The timing couldn't have been any better.
"Sparx! Thank the ancestors you're here. You just pretty much saved the moment," Cynder said.
"Huh? What? I did? I mean… I did." He crossed his arms with a bright smile, just enjoying whatever praise he was getting at that time. "I don't know what I did to save the moment but I'm glad I did."
But now wasn't really a moment for him to pat himself on the back for what looked like literally nothing. At least to him in any case. "Anyways! Umm… I'm here to save the day again. We got a code red and a code purple, bro."
Spyro blinked a couple times as Sparx's words shook him out of his hesitant state of mind. "I'm sorry. A what and what now?"
"Do I really have to spell it out for you? What always happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object!"
It took Spyro a quick second to realize he meant Mal and Ignitus. With a sigh, the purple dragon stood from his seat. "Alright. Where?"
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