2: Touched by Bitter Smoke

Sparx woke up choking on a shriek. He coughed up a gob of saliva that went down the wrong way. After regaining the ability to breathe, he wiped his face and looked around.

"What the hell..."

The cave he was in was no flower field. The stars were relegated to a far corner of his vision, hanging in a dark, smoky sky.

How on earth had he arrived here? Had someone picked him up from the flower field?

That person would not be the recipient of his pleasure, that much Sparx could guarantee even through his confusion. He hoped to find that person quickly as he took to the air and exited the cave. He found himself overlooking a cliff.

Ashen, smoking lands, broken into dozens of tiny islands, stretched to the horizon. The air around him was thicker. The flower field was nowhere in sight.

And he was completely alone.

Had they decided little old Sparx had gotten in the way, and this was where they had dumped him?

At least his traitor friend had had the courtesy to not disturb his sleep—he felt well-rested, even if that last vision had kick-started his nerves. But it was the middle of the night, so the boon was useless.

Even the crickets were silent. It left him with nothing to do except remember fondly the flower field.

He was beginning to believe that it didn't exist at all.

Electricity skittered down his arms. He noted a strange, crackling aura hanging in the air, but surprisingly, he wasn't entirely convinced that he was about to die. Nevertheless, the open night of this reformed world was not the place for a dragonfly. He wasn't sure if the land had stopped grumbling.

So, he reclined against the cave wall and hoped sleep would claim him before boredom did.

*.*

Cynder awoke half-drowned in a crevasse in the dirt. She wrenched herself and Spyro out of the crack and lay in the patchy grass, panting hard.

She'd weakened severely—or, she entertained unscientifically, had Spyro regained some substance?

Either way, she was in no condition to do much other than get out of the open before the skies opened up again.

She remained on her side for a while and noticed that the dirt beneath her was half ash. A few feet away behind her was the crack in the ground that they had burst through, the vicinity littered with the earth she must have thrown up in the process.

She sighed bitterly, disappointed that she hadn't made more progress during her brief moments of unconsciousness. When she looked up, it was as if lightning had struck her brain.

Small islands floated in the sky above her head. The volcano they'd descended into was nowhere in sight.

She'd brushed up on her geography before they left Warfang—these were new islands.

This was too much new information. She wanted to fall unconscious again.

But her stomach growled, and she hoped there was some sort of nourishment at their destination.

*.*

"Sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall..."

No amount of groaning would coax sleep to fall upon Sparx. Fake-snoring hadn't tricked his brain and counting sheep had been fruitless, so he put his beautiful voice to work.

Until his throat began to dry up. He facepalmed mentally.

He stretched back with a groan and floated towards the cave's entrance. He'd catch some water running off the mouth to avoid the pounding rain that had resumed outside.

Something moved within the curtain of rain. He yelped in terror before realising that it might just have been the vegetation blowing in the wind.

"What are you doing here?"

He yelped again when the scratchy voice emerged from the outside, and backed away from the ambling shape that accompanied it. The slam of cold stone against his back forced his eyes forward. It was a soft, fleshy being unlike the recent plant-like hostilities.

His heart caught in his throat.

"SPYRO!"

He shot past Cynder's cheek like a lightning bolt to towards the listless Spyro, who was draped across her back.

"I-is he alive?" Sparx stammered, zipping around Spyro's face before planting an ear against his battered chest. "What the hell happened to him?!"

Despite the rain, Cynder's throat was dry.

"He's alive, but..." she said eventually. "I'm so sorry, Sparx."

Sparx's face fell but he shook his head.

"You did good, Cynder." He pulled away and narrowed his eyes after wiping away a tear. "Is he really there, or am I experiencing a grief-induced hallucination?"

"He's there." Cynder swallowed a familiar wave of doubt regarding her perception. This reunion with Sparx was not the time to be questioning her reality.

"He's a bit of a phantom, isn't he?" Sparx laughed weakly. "My presence is probably more substantial than his right now."

"I'll carry him," she said.

"Well, I can't."

Cynder hung her head and sighed heavily.

"But Cynder..." Sparx continued, his voice lower, more sombre. "Thanks. Really. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"Me neither," Cynder murmured. She shifted her shoulders, more to work the tension out of her muscles than adjust the negligible Spyro's weight on her back. "Mind if we take a seat?"

"Be my guest, but we lack the hospitalities to make your stay comfortable. At all."

Cynder was too tired to think of a witty remark, and offered him a weak smile.

*.*

When Cynder awoke, Spyro was gone.

She swore under her breath and scrambled to her feet, pushing through the pain in her ankles to emerge into the dawn light. As she scanned the area, a dark, wavering form near the edge of their island caught her eye.

"Sp—"

She stopped. The base of her neck crawled. Calming her hammering chest, she crept forward.

It was Spyro, or a wraith shaped like him, sitting on his haunches, staring into the eastern horizon. Darkness was seeping out from beneath his scales and evaporating into the air like incense. Cynder said nothing as she sat down slowly next to him. The colours in his eyes were translucent, and the whites were almost glowing.

The memory bit back with teeth. She felt the second collar that wasn't there anymore around her throat.

She wanted so badly to speak, but she waited for him to act first. Then she noticed that his jaw was moving, repeating a single sound over and over again, barely perceptible. She leaned in closer.

"Ss..rr...rr...yyyss..."

Sorry.

She bit her tongue. What was she meant to do?

Spyro's claws curled into the rock and he rose to his feet. Cynder did the same, soundlessly.

He took a step forward.

"Spyro," Cynder whispered. "No."

He took another step forward. He swayed on his feet.

Cynder cried out as she launched herself forward to catch him as he tipped over the island's edge. She hooked her legs around his body and opened her wings.

Gravity was suddenly much stronger, and she had to power hard to stop them both plummeting to the ground. Then, she glanced at the nearest island below and realised that the fall might not have killed him—if he hadn't been so weakened.

A sigh escaped her, before she realised they were still losing altitude. She mustered her effort and carried herself and Spyro back over the cliff, straight to the cave.

She dropped him onto the cave floor and collapsed right next to him.

When she looked at him he was motionless again, eyes half shut, staring vacantly into the ground.

Cynder pushed a paw against one of his front legs. He was more substantial, now, she noted, her toe meeting the resistance of a solid appendage. She decided to interpret it as progress.

"Sparx," she hissed. "Come here."

"Wh—" Sparx stretched and rubbed his eyes. When his vision focused, he yelped and rubbed his eyes harder.

"Explain that," he squeaked, pointing a shaky finger at the languid, unnatural Spyro. "Last time that happened I thought he was gonna kill me."

"It's not quite the same as last time," said Cynder. "He's not in as deep, I don't think."

"I can see where he's looking this time, at least. How many fingers?"

"I think that's a sign," Cynder sighed. "I don't really know what to do."

Sparx straightened his back and hovered forward. He placed both hands on Spyro's snout. He suppressed a whimper.

"Buddy," he whispered. "It's Sparx. Anyone home?"

Spyro made no response.

"Earth to Spyro?" Sparx waved his hands dangerously close to Spyro's eyes. "Spyro buddy, man, worst friend forever, come back to us. Cynder's here."

He waggled his eyebrows and glanced at her. She grimaced and shrugged.

"I'm not saying goodbye again," Sparx lamented. "Snap out of it, bro! Spyro!"

What Sparx did next nearly threw Cynder into cardiac arrest.

He sent a tiny fist right into one of Spyro's eyeballs. A distorted yelp escaped the dragon's maw as Cynder snapped up Sparx's tail to yank him away.

"Sparx!"

Cynder and Sparx hanging out of her mouth could barely believe their ears.

Spyro was staring at the pair, head raised, the darkness vanished from his body and the colour of his eyes returned.

"Sparx..." Spyro murmured again. As his elbows collapsed beneath him, Sparx shot forward, planting himself against the side of Spyro's head.

"Spyro, are you there?" Sparx cried.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'm here."

Spyro rotated his neck, and Sparx hugged his forehead.

"I'm here."

Cynder blinked tears out of her eyes but stayed glued to the spot until Spyro's gaze flickered up at her.

"Cynder..."

"May I...?"

"...Hi, Cynder." He extended a slow wing out to her.

She rushed forward and nuzzled her snout against his neck, smiling impossibly wide.

"Welcome back," she whispered.

A/n: Spoiler alert but this isn't the last of Dark Spyro!

This is unusual for me but I don't have an end-point for this fic in mind so future updates (if any) will be sporadic. Hopefully the one or two concrete ideas I currently have will see the light of day. Thanks for reading anyway :^)