Call of the Ancestors
Chapter 23: Failure and Acceptance
"Keesha?" Miarko could not believe his eyes. He had seen her take her last breath, felt her life slip away from her. Seen how unfair life can be...
And yet, there she was, smiling at him with that smile which would never ever fail to bring happiness into the Captain's life.
"This can't be real…?" He asked out loud, hearing his own voice breaking slightly.
It felt distant, almost alien. His mate chuckled, a warm laugh which made the ruby-red Fire captain feel a warmth spread in his chest. Not one of fire, but one of affection.
"But it is real, just as real as the breath you draw, or the time ticking by." His beloved Keesha spoke, her tone reassuring and calm.
He shook his head, "I saw you...this simply can't be. You...you died, and our son with you…"
She began to approach him, slowly, even as her eyes remained locked into his, "Is it so hard to believe? You left us both behind as soon as you were sure that our lives had ended. Isn't it believable to think that we both survived and have been looking for you for all of these years?"
Miarko took a step back, shaking his head, "You mean…"
Another form appeared from behind the walls of the tower. A smaller dragon. He had bright red scales and multicolored markings that ran down the length of his body. The young male opened his eyes. They coursed with many different clashing colors of blue, red, yellow and pink.
"Hello, father."
Miarko stumbled back again, "No...he was...he died in the egg. They told me…"
The young male continued to smile, "It's good to finally meet you, Dad."
Miarko looked back at his lover, returned from the dead, "This...this is…"
Keesha smiled at him, "This is him. You wanted to name him Niote. This is your son, Niote."
The young male, Niote, looked strikingly similar to both his father and his mother. He had the scales and visible power markings of the Suolo Clan, but the light coloring, body marks and element of his mother. He smiled with a bright expression as his multicolored eyes stared at his father's with the same intensity of Keesha's.
"N-Niote?" Miarko asked to them both, clearly in disbelief.
"Come greet your son, my love," Keesha spoke, as the two continued to inch closer to Miarko along the wall.
He looked between the two of them. He smiled lightly and took a step forward.
Then, he stopped.
"Sethelis…" he spoke to himself.
He looked between the two of them, their gazes completely fixated on him.
"You aren't...you aren't real!" the Fire Captain roared out, "This is just a test. A test to see my worthiness. You both...you both are dead, I know you are. I saw you both die. There's no amount of visions or wishing that can bring you back. I know that."
Both of them stopped. Their smiles dropped.
"You're just going to give up on us again?" Keesha spoke, her eyes glaring at him.
"You're not...you're not real," he persisted, clearly struggling.
"Please, Father...don't leave us again...please!" Niote exclaimed, his eyes filling with tears.
Miarko fought back tears of his own, "May you...may the Mover look after you."
The apparitions disappeared. A broken, crying male fell to the ground in their wake.
"Miarko."
The male's head picked back up, "Who…?"
"You have passed your trial, young dragon," came the voice, "You may call me the Chronicler."
"Ignitus? We…" Miarko picked himself back up, looking around for the old Fire Guardian, "We've met."
"Briefly, but I became more aware of you and your history as you became fit into your role, young dragon," the old Guardian's voice spoke again.
"You mean, once I became more involved in the lives of the Directors," the Fire Captain shot back, "I know how important they are."
Ignitus' voice laughed briefly before speaking again, "Your perceptiveness does you credit, young dragon. Please, proceed further into the Isle. The way will now be open to you. We have much to discuss."
Spyro passed through the final doorway. His entire body ached, having been battered and bruised by the stone statues that had lined the long halls behind him. They had posed no real challenge for the purple dragon, he was now a far more formidable warrior than he had ever been over thirteen years prior. However, legendary champion of the realms or not, they still had gotten the odd strike past his defenses. Hits that had hurt.
"Hngh… If this is The Chronicler's way of reminiscing of old times, I do not like his new style. "... Even if his old training regimens used to be equally rough," the legendary hero said to himself as if to try and lighten his own mood, pushing ever on into the White Isles complex.
One step at a time. The purple hero's eyes rose up from the floor, his gaze striking a very familiar room. On either side of him there were two doors, both locked with magical seals. The room was bathed in an eerie blue light, akin to that of a Spirit crystal's blue pale glow. The source of the light in the room was a large and very ornate hourglass that rested as a centerpiece in the middle of the room. As if it was propelled by magic, the sand floated upwards through the curves of the object. Spyro had seen this room before, when he had first met The Chronicler's previous incarnation. Tomes floated around the room, quills hovering by them, seemingly writing notes upon notes. A familiar tome, the one depicting Spyro's own life, caught the Purple Dragon's gaze. The still-fresh looking leather tome was, obviously, still a work in progress. It felt strange knowing that he could walk up to the open pages and read his own story. This raised some slight suspicion to the dragon, since it was resting upon a desk out in the open with no visible magics or Chronicler in sight.
Spyro walked up to the desk, sitting down upon his haunches as he brushed some old scrolls and quills aside, resting his forepaws atop the desktop, peeking into the tome. He felt an urge to look towards the words which were forming themselves upon one of the nearly blank pages, just to see what would happen if he did so. The purple hero assumed something bad would happen, maybe some form of strange paradox.
And yet, his curiosity peaked ever-so slightly. A little glance could not hurt, could it? Just to see what would happen.
So Spyro looked. The writing was elegant but yet somehow familiar. Reminiscent of his own claw-writing, the last sentence that was written told him that the purple hero had walked up to a desk in the "Room of the Hourglass."
Curiosity peaking even more, his gaze remained on the tome. His need for discovery continued to get the better of him, as he read the lines depicting himself reading a book about himself. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on reading. And so he kept on rea-...
Spyro tore his eyes from the text, shuddering as he pulled a forepaw over the orange frills on his head, "Okay, do not read the current moment. Got it." he thought to himself, turning enough pages to look back at least… Nine years worth of pages back.
Just as the dragon of legend selected a particularly fond memory, he was just about to start reminiscing about his and Cynder's first date, a familiar old voice spoke up behind him.
"As curious as ever, young dragon. If I may still call you that?"
Spyro flinched, slamming the book shut in a movement with a frantic and twitchy panic. He felt his heart get gripped by emotions, happiness and joy, yet he felt afraid, almost terrified of the prospect of turning around to face his old mentor.
"Ignitus I-..." He choked, a clump forming in his throat, making the process to form words an impossible task. He felt tears swell up in his eyes, as he finally turned around.
The fatherly smile, the wise eyes… A new blue look? Spyro was admittedly surprised, and yet he did not heed the appearance any mind as he stepped up, pressing his neck against Ignitus' in what could only be described as a draconic hug.
"I have missed you. So much…" The purple hero said, feeling the tears flow freely.
He heard the old dragon draw a shaking breath, before stepping back. Ignitus looked at Spyro with strong intent. The elder raised a paw, just as the Purple Legend had opened his maw to speak.
He felt a sting of familiarity, a little callback to his days training to learn the more refined techniques in the Element of Fire. Ignitus spoke up: "I know why you are here, Spyro. You have come to request my aid," this earned a nod from Spyro, but his smile slowly faltered as the Chronicler finished his sentence, "... Which I cannot give you in the way you wish for. I know Ifrit requested my presence, which is something I simply… Could not risk," to which Spyro felt distraught. Had all his struggles to get here been for naught?
That is when another thought struck him. His comrades. Surely…?
"Then…" he started, his eyes meeting the ones of his old mentor. "... At least, before we continue, could you tell me if Miarko and, or, Sethelis are still alive?" To which the Chronicler smiled warmly.
"Indeed they are, Spyro. Both of them," He said, his tone reassuring and wise as always, "They both got very lucky during the storm, one of my leviathans found them just before you followed suit. They are currently being tested."
This brought recent memories back through the happy veil of warmth currently filling Spyro's mind. He remembered his own so called test, so he spoke up, a slight undertone of anger to his words. He could not bear himself to be angry towards Ignitus, at least not for long.
"Speaking is their tests, why did you have me see those horrible visions? Did you try to make some kind of point?" The purple hero asked, clearly wanting answers from the elderly former Guardian.
Ignitus sighed, his eyes closing as he spoke, his voice giving away the fact that Ignitus clearly was not pleased with what he had done.
"Because I needed to see if you had grown. Not just physically, but mentally. You have always been a person with the greater good of everyone as a top priority, Spyro," Ignitus told the purple hero, his eyes slowly opened to meet the gaze of the hero of the Dragon Realms, "I needed to see if you had learnt to accept that sometimes there are moments where even you have to make the tough decision. If you could choose between the goal set out ahead of you, or the ones you love. Sometimes attempting to save them all will lead to saving noone."
As he spoke, the elderly robed Chronicler walked over to the large hourglass dominating the center of the chamber, Spyro patiently trudging behind him.
"You are not the only one who is facing their challenges at this moment. But you are the first one to succeed," The elderly dragon finally explained to his former student.
Spyro hated to admit it, but Ignitus had a good point, and something was telling the purple hero that he would only waste time by trying to argue. Precious time they needed to gain a powerful ally. Before the purple hero had time to open his maw and say something, The Chronicler placed a paw upon the hourglass, which seemingly caused the sand within to pour faster. And as it did, an image was conjured in the reflection of the curved glass. Miarko, standing completely still with a shocked expression upon his snout. His eyes having a strange haze over them. Spyro guesses that the poor Dragon was under a similar illusion to what he had endured.
"Miarko, the prodigal soldier," Ignitus broke the silence, "He who struggles to let go. He is a good dragon, but blames himself and dwells far too much on his past failures. Hiding his sorrows behind a mask of pleasure, not only endangering his duties but also all of the realms. He needs to let go of his past, and work out whatever obstructs him from focusing on Congeria's threat." Ignitus stated, his tone firm as he nodded his horned head.
He then placed his paw upon the glass once more, the image shifting to Sethelis, who was laying down and idly stared at a gate barring her path, a similar illusion seemingly holding her mind under its influence. Her lips were moving, as if she was conversing with someone, despite no one being around.
"... And Sethelis, a conflicted dragoness stuck in the dilemma of choosing duty over all, or proving to herself and everyone around her that she has more to live for than just a "Job well done" at the end of the day. A question she does not have the time to ponder when an enemy more powerful than anything the realms has faced in millennia stands at our very doorstep." He concluded.
Spyro finally filled his lungs with air, speaking up: "But then, why don't you just tell them?" He asked, cocking a scaled brow and glancing towards the elder.
Ignitus sighed, before replying: "Because it is not my right to enforce change. It is not my role, as the Chronicler, to change the course of fate. I merely keep the records."
Spyro felt his heart sink in disappointment. The dragon he had looked up to all these years, the one who showed him what it truly meant to be a dragon, could do nothing?
A/N: Hello! Hawk here! We took a little summer break, but now we're back at it!
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