Call of the Ancestors

Chapter 22: The White Isle

The voice remained silent for a time. The Purple Dragon was left shaking his head in disgust. Maybe it was shame that was driving Ignitus not to answer, perhaps it was a lack of a clear answer, perhaps he couldn't answer at all. The thought didn't make it any less infuriating.

The Purple hero kicked the ground in anger, "You know Cynder and I can feel shifts in power like the Chronicler's. We didn't know what it meant at the time, but I had an inkling that it was...this," he shook his head, rage building in his chest again, "I spent ten years mourning you! Why didn't you try to contact me? Why?"

Silence again rang in Spyro's mind.

"I don't understand-"

"Spyro."

The voice again rang in his mind, causing the Purple Dragon to stop in his ranting. The name rang in his head, indicative of the power that it held. Or perhaps it was Ignitus' voice that held the power? The purple dragon simply sat down upon his haunches, attempting to cool himself down. Collect his thoughts.

"Talk to me," he said simply, briefly.

The voice was not present for few moments, almost causing more anger to rise from the adult dragon, but then, just as Spyro was about to call out, but once more the voice of his old mentor spoke.

"It is… Complicated. And not something I would be able to explain here and now. Know only that I have awaited your coming here for some time, and that time is of the essence. It is not long before Congeria will make her next move, and if you wish to save your city and your friends you will need to act fast. I have seen some worrying things that I must show you."

Spyro struggled to make sense of the elderly dragon's cryptic warnings. "But me and my comrades are surely drowning by now. There is nothing we can do?"

The fatherly voice laughed in his head. A warm, melodious sound that the Purple Dragon hadn't heard in just over a decade.

Finally, Ignitus settled down, "Do you not remember how you made it here the first time?"

Spyro wracked his brain for a moment, attempting to remember the events, "Sparx...Sparx said it was a "freaky little turtle monster" that brought me here, if my memory does not fail me," the Director responded, almost laughing at the memory of his brother's words.

"Think of it as that concept again and do not fear, for it may be closer to the truth than you may realize."

Spyro sighed, shaking his head at the thought, "Leviathans, aren't they? Do you control them or something?"

"This is not information that you need just now, Spyro," Ignitus responded slowly, "What you must focus on for the time being is gathering Captains Miarko and Sethelis."

The Purple Dragon nodded at no one in particular, observing his surroundings. The area of the White Isle looked much as it had before. Stretches of white sand for as far as his eyes could see. Behind him was a vast ocean. He blinked once, and suddenly the mysterious presence was no longer there. He was alone. Nothing but the sounds of the waves to keep him company. The dragon turned around, doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn in the sand, but was only met with disappointment, since there was no sight of his companions anywhere.

"It is never easy, is it?" Spyro muttered to himself before trekking towards the large and looming complex of ruins ahead of him. Eventually he managed to find a crack in one of the great stone walls surrounding the complex. The thunder of the storm, which was long gone by now, echoed across the waves and seemingly followed the hero inside. Spyro was back in a familiar yet different place. After having crawled through a pile of rubble, the purple dragon eventually came into a chamber, worn down by time. The remains of some old wall-mounted textile art clung to its fasteners, it contained imagery of dragons and places Spyro had never seen nor heard of. The dragon heeded it not much mind and carried on, walking over towards the only open doorway in the small chamber. Having left the entrance behind him, Spyro's eyes widened. He was in a courtyard. Now, this was something he recognised. A gate was on the other end, the large doors blocked by a visible magical shimmering. Several pools of cyan liquids bubbled and fizzled here and there, dotting the area seemingly at random.

"A new Chronicler and you're still all about the tests? We do not have time for this, Ignitus!" He called.

There was no reply. The purple dragon made his way towards the center of the open courtyard. The smooth rocky surface leaving little hinderance to his stride, but when he reached the center the magic of the gate flared. Spyro took a combat-ready stance, but not even with his time-bending reflexes could save him from the beam of magic which was shot out. Everything went black for a few seconds and then… Everything felt different. He felt heat of flames, a pressing darkness all around him. He felt… Smaller. His eyes fluttered open. He still held his combat stance.

"What the-... No…" Spyro said, because when his senses finally made him aware of his surroundings he felt his heart fill with dread.

He was back in the Dragon Temple just before his and Cynder's battle against Malefor. He glanced to his left, and there was Malefor, The Dark Master himself, in the flesh, very much alive and smirking triumphantly. He looked back in front of himself and saw something he had really hoped not to see ever again. Cynder, dark energies flowing through her body. Her eyes bearing a white empty sheen. Spyro did not even have time to react, for she lunged at him.

Spyro moved his wings up to shield himself from her blow, calling out, "Cynder, no! You don't have to do this!" There was no reply, just another painful strike.

Her attacks were relentless and unending. Eventually his wings gave up, sustaining several bleeding scratches and tears in the orange membrane. He was no longer able to use his wings to block much more without losing his ability to fly, Spyro started to dodge. However, just like the Cynder he knew back home, this one was the faster and more nimble opponent out of the pair, and eventually a broad tail swipe struck the legendary dragon on the side of his head. This caused his vision to go blurry, he felt blood seeping from somewhere beneath his left horn. He knew that he'd not be able to keep this game up for long.

"Cynder, please stop!" He tried again. She did not reply, only attacking once more.

She pounced, the two dragons tumbled across the flat stone floor. Spyro knew that if he did not do anything soon, he would join the Ancestors.

He gasped for air, whimpered out an "I'm sorry…"

Quickly, he focused, putting all his might into his hind legs. A mighty kick sent the dragoness flying. Spyro struggled to get back up, having a multitude of scratches and bleeding wounds.

"I'm so sorry, Cynder… You leave me no choice." He says, sorrow in his voice and tears starting to obscure his vision, but now he was determined.

He wanted to live.

But yet again he struck a defensive posture. He was awaiting her next move. She circulated him slowly, like a cat toying with its prey. A sudden lunge. Spyro lowered his head, she passed over him, before time seemingly slowed. The purple dragon reared up, maw open. His fangs connected with the possessed dragoness' gut. He bit down, tore. A disgusting taste filled his mouth, everything seemingly flickered and… He was back in the empty courtyard. His wounds were gone, his jaws having clamped down around empty air with an audible snap. Spyro blinked, he was now a fully grown adult again. In the chroniclers' ruins on the White Isle. The magical barrier was still there. He moved towards it. He felt anger, confusion and irritation all at once.

"Why did you make me do that? Did you want to make a point?" He asked, his brows furrowed deeply, "I don't understand! What would we gain from killing her? Answer me!" He roared at the gate in frustration.

Spyro was angry, yet he felt as if there was something he was missing. Something vital. The purple hero took a few more deep breaths, before trying to calm his mind. Ease those frustrated thoughts, and thusly gain clarity. Nearly all of the Chronicler's puzzles had some deeper meaning when he first passed through here, so… Maybe…?

"Is this another one of your lessons, Ignitus? Are you trying to tell me that I cannot save her? Because I did. We both know that," And it was with these words it clicked for the purple dragon, his anger slowly cooling down as the realization hit him.

"... You're telling me that I can't save them all, aren't you? Of course. You of all people would be the one to tell me that. I… I think you already have, once."

The purple dragon saw how the shimmering slowly started to subside, the locking mechanism within the metal gate made a loud clicking sound, and the ornate metal doorway swung inwards, opening itself up. The purple hero shook his head. He just hoped the others wouldn't have to face their inner demons like he had.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Sethelis was getting quite tired with the concept of being knocked out. Then again, being struck with lightning was something different.

"I should be dead…" She thought to herself, her eye fluttering open, her slitted pupil scanning her surroundings.

Her body was sprawled out on pearl-white sand, the storm far off in distant skies as the wind seemingly carried it far away. She slowly raised her head up off of the sand, getting herself up on her paws.

"So, this is the mythical "White Isle", then? I thought it would be more… Crumbling and broken?" She thought aloud as her eyes fell upon the large structure not too far away.

The dragoness spared little time, only briefly searching for her companions. Eventually the Shadow found that the only tracks on this silvery beach were her own. She felt a slight sting in her chest.

"If you're both dead, Ancestors be with you." She thought, before putting all distractions aside. Mission over all.

She saw a large gate before her, closing the dragoness out of the temple-complex. The door was hewn out of rock, some strange type of wood and what appeared to be stained glass depicting a hourglass. She would've probably spent some time admiring the craftsmanship had she not been in such a hurry. Sethelis spread her wings and took to the air, hoping that she'd be able to pass by this obstacle with no problem. And to her surprise, there was nothing preventing the dragoness' advance as she passed over the tall walls, and once more landed in the small… garden?

Some plants she had only seen whispers about in history books grew in abundance, neatly planted along a path of flat stones. The stone pathway went from the large gate behind her through this little serene green space, all the way to what Sethelis assumed to be the main structure. She keenly watched her surroundings as she walked, anticipating some kind of trap to trigger, or someone to appear. Old habits really did die hard for the dragon.

There was no sound besides wind gracing the strange blue leaves in the bushes and the trees, and Sethelis walked for what felt like hours. She had seen fountains, but no water. There were statues of dragons dressed in both ancient, and modern grabs alike. Some faces she recognized and some she did not. Sethelis was slowly growing frustrated, finding her efforts to be a waste of time. She tried to spread her wings, as flying would be faster, but to her dismay and confusion, the limbs refused to move. The dragoness craned her neck, yellow eye going over her gray appendages in confusion. She could see no wounds.

"Magic. Is this some test? Or a security measure?" She pondered as she soldiered on down the rock path.

Eventually she came upon what appeared to be the end, a silvery gate of sorts, with what appeared to be a sheen of enchantments laying over the metal bars. The dragoness groaned to herself.

"I have walked for almost an hour, if not more. Only to find there to be another bloody gate?!" She complained, before extending a claw and made an attempt to pick the lock.

As soon as her talon got close, however, a zap broke the silence and the dragoness felt as if someone had punched her straight in the gut. She wheezed for air, arching her back akin to how a cat would, eye shut tight.

"Okay, fine… Fine. I will play your game." She murmured, not really certain of who she was talking to.

"Good."

Sethelis blinked. That was… A voice? She rapidly turned around, coming face to face with a very familiar dragon… Statue. Its marble body having apparently left the pedestal it had originally sat upon. Sethelis could've sworn it hadn't been there when she first passed the bend in the road leading past. Its voice was strange, oddly reminding her of rock scraping against rock. It did not breathe, yet it moved and spoke as if it was alive, marble dust falling off of it whenever its limbs shifted and moved. She was face to face with… Miarko?

"You're not Miarko," She said, frowning ever so slightly, "Even if it is an… Uncanny resemblance," Sethelis then commented, peering the stone dragon over.

The statue spoke, his voice soft, yet not, "You have flown far, fought pirates, a beast and then nearly died coming here. All to find a dragon you believed to be dead until a week ago, apparently resurrected by a myth whom few know of, and even fewer believe to be true. Why?"

Sethelis blinked. She corrected the strap to her eyepatch, tightening the leathers fit around her head.

"Is this a test?" She asked, the statue replying with stoic silence.

She stood there, deep in thought, for a little while. The marble version of her companion did not move.

"... Because it is my mission, and it will protect my city. My home," She eventually answered, puffing up her chest, feeling a small tingle of pride.

But her feelings and patriotism had to wait, for the statue spoke up once more. "But is it what you want? After all, you and your comrades are shouldering a burden no dragon should be forced to bear."

The dragoness felt something deep within her. This question was something she had put aside, not allowed herself to ask. She was the Captain, the example all her agents should follow. She didn't have time for emotions, or anything else. There was only the mission. But now she had to answer that very question to complete her mission. She felt thoughts race through her mind. How was she supposed to answer? Truthfully? Sure, she wanted to save Warfang and everyone in it, and of course the rest of the world, but... She knew very well that once she had completed her duty she'd fade back into obscurity. Did she really want this?

She shook her head, almost as if she expected the thoughts and doubts that had swelled up within her to just go away, "Y-Yes. I want to complete my objective. I have to."

"Be true to yourself. Is it really your sense of duty that is pushing your forwards despite all odds? Despite the fact that this duty of yours is more of a burden than a reward. You will let all the glory go to your comrades and you know very well that your name will be lost to history. Is this really what you want?"

Sethelis knew what she was meant to say. And she somehow knew that she had to mean it. The dragoness saw the point that this test was trying to make and she just… Could not do it. The Shadows was her lot in life, it was all she was good at, and she knew the downsides when she signed on all those years ago. She swallowed. After all this effort, she was trumped because of conviction? Sethelis took a shaky breath, composing herself. "What will happen if I fail? The test, I mean."

"Then you will wait. Or try again," The statue spoke, Sethelis feeling a slight hint of worry leaving her.

"So you would not mind if I… Just sat here? There is not much to do," The dragoness inquired, but her stone-faced company merely turned around, heavy steps breaking the otherwise quiet air.

"Touch the gate if you wish to try again. Contemplate," It said, leaving the dragoness alone to her own thoughts.

She tracked the statue as it walked down the stone path, eventually climbing up atop a pedestal, just like the others were posed and placed, before freezing in place. As if nothing had happened. Sethelis sighed, placing her head down onto the cold stone slab beneath her, as she laid down. She felt tired.

"I just hope the others fare better." She thought to herself.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

A rumbling noise. Internal gears began to whirr once more. A grunt.

Miarko rose slowly, putting a paw to his head and shaking it, "Liberty time wasn't this weekend was it?"

Hangovers and general feelings of nausea had become all too commonplace for the Captain. This, however, felt even worse. A massive headache, soreness throughout the body and general fatigue did not come together well to form a healthy and well-fit dragon.

Finally, Miarko opened his eyes and peered out at his surroundings slowly. He was in some sort of ruined courtyard. Rubble from collapsed and exposed walls dotted the oddly-colored grass around him. The closest thing the Captain could equate it to was a long-abandoned fortress, but the ruined structure did not appear familiar to him. Looking around further, his burning eyes caught no sight of either of his companions...or anyone else.

"Hello?" the Captain called out.

The silence was his answer.

The young male sighed and put a paw over his face before shaking his head and moving forward. A tower stood in front of him, half-ruined and crumbling. Sections of the staircase were out, but the torches and sconces were lit all the way up to the top, from what the Fire Dragon could tell. Sighing again, he stretched out his wings to try to fly, only to find that he could not move them. Saying a quick curse under his breath, Miarko began walking up the stairs slowly. Torchlight dotted the walls around him. The light pouring in from outside the tower was an unnatural shade of dark pink, only comparable to something that the Fire Captain had seen in his dreams. It was both calming and unnerving at the same time. Why this was, he couldn't put a reason to.

Slowly, Miarko rounded the staircase. As he rose another bend, it quickly became clear there would be a problem. An entire section of the spiraling ascension had been knocked out, likely by general wear and tear over dozens or hundreds of years. How long it had been exactly was impossible to tell, but without his wings, it would provide a large obstacle for the already-sore Dragon.

Miarko rubbed the back of his head, observing the broken section of the stairs for a moment longer. This had been the only way out of the courtyard in which he had awoken. Clearly, this was the way that he had to proceed. Taking in another deep breath, he launched himself forward.

He was airborne. In the matter of a split second, his claws caught the end of the stairs. Fighting through the pain of his soreness and with a few loud grunts, the able-bodied warrior crawled atop the broken end of the staircase. He fell over for a moment, out of pain and exhaustion, as his breathing returned to normal.

"Time spent...working out...well spent," he joked to himself, before shaking himself off and continuing up the remaining flights.

After a few more moments, he reached the end of the tower. More torchlight was visible across the wall, in a neighboring tower. Miarko stepped out onto the top of the wall that connected the two. The courtyard was below to his right, and...the endless dancing the calm waves of the ocean to his left. Only one way forward. As he walked across the long stretch of the tower, the young male closed his eyes for a moment, trying to rest himself for a moment.

That was when he heard the footfalls.

Light steps of a quadruped creature of some kind, echoing from inside the tower in front of him. Miarko quickly erected himself into a defensive posture, unsure of what to expect. A shadow formed just inside of the tower. It had a rounded head and snout with horns dotting its head; the shadow likely belonged to a dragon of some kind.

"Who's there?" Miarko exclaimed, "Show yourself and I won't be forced to harm you."

The shadowy form hesitated a moment before it shrunk and the dragon rounded the corner.

The Dragon was shorter than Miarko and possessed light yellow scales. Two split forms dotted their head coated in a natural marble color. Two marble-colored wings sat neatly folded behind their back. Two streaks of pink cascaded down their side, starting from her marble underbelly and zipping backward along their body. Most telling of all was the light smile they sported and the two familiar jade-blue eyes that shone back at Miarko.

The Captain's maw nearly dropped.

"Keesha?"

A/N: Hello! Hawk here. We took our sweet time due to our scheduling, a graduation as well as… Well, life in general! But hey, we made another chapter just for you, so I hope you enjoy it. We'll try to not take as much time to get the next one out, it is a cliffhanger after all!

And as always, we appreciate any and all feedback! Reviews are always read and responded to when we can get to them.

See you next time!

-Mike & Hawk