Call of the Ancestors

Chapter 24: The Final Battle Begins

The portcullises that had been blocking the pathway ahead of the Fire Dragon immediately disappeared, vanishing into the winds. Miarko took in a deep breath for determination and continued along the broken wall. The pathway seemingly repaired itself around him, with restored masonry suddenly appearing out of thin air at his paws as he walked. It seemed that the White Isle did not appeal entirely to the whims of reality, perhaps caused by some sort of Creation magic, or just because of the power of the Chronicler himself. It wasn't clear to Miarko, but it was interesting nonetheless.

The Captain continued in and out of the circular towers before he finally reached the end of the section of the walls that he'd been traveling along. A spiral staircase, completely repaired this time, led him back down to the ground level of the fortification.

"Your mind wanders, Captain," came the voice of the Chronicler once more.

Miarko sighed before he spoke, "With the soul-searching that your little trial just put me through, can you blame a man like me for reminiscing?"

"Perhaps not, but the trial is one that shows your true character. It gives you the chance to prove that you are worthy of an audience with the Chronicler," came the voice once more.

"So, what, having a mindset that adapts to your mission or something?" Miarko asked as he rounded down the final set of stairs.

"One could call it that, yes." The Chronicler's voice answered, "It takes a… Lot of experience and the ability to see all perspectives in a bigger picture, bigger than all of the Dragon Realms, to be able to think as the Chronicler does. Adapt to the past, see the present, look forward to the future. Even if true premonition can be beyond any of us."

"Then what are you, exactly?" the Captain asked, as he stepped out of the tower and looked for another way out of the fortress, walking down winding pathways, sites under construction and through timeworn broken down crawlspaces.

"A simple record keeper," Ignitus explained simply.

Miarko shook his head, "Bollocks, Ignitus. Bollocks."

The Chronicler gave no response, but Miarko could still feel the presence in his mind. The Fire Captain spied another entrance to the fortress that had not been in the courtyard prior to his initial entry. Again, the Isle changed the rules of reality. The Fire Dragon slowly made his way across the courtyard, his eyes darting across to try and spot anything else that had changed. But no, as of right now all that had changed seemed to be this new mysterious gateway. The Captain pondered upon his options silently, before deciding to press on. No use in turning back now. In fact, Miarko thought it might not even be possible to turn back…

The Captain took another deep breath and stepped through the new opening in the walls.

The world flew around him. It was dark.

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

Time seemingly warped around him, his mind struggling to process whatever was happening around him. Miarko saw events he had read about in history books, he saw faces familiar and unfamiliar at different stages of their lives. Sethelis with both eyes, Spyro in a swamp somewhere, Cynder soaring across a crystalline landscape as the Terror of the Skies. He even saw himself. No… He saw all of it. His entire life flashing before his eyes in an instant, as if he re-lived it all, everything. Every heartbreak, every laugh and every mission, only to suddenly and abruptly come to a screeching halt. Miarko felt his paws hitting the marble floor as if he had been falling.

The Captain opened his eyes, taking in his new surroundings. Behind him wasn't a doorway leading towards an open courtyard, but a corridor. It stretched on for further than his eyes could see, so The Captain turned his head around the other way instead, turning towards what he was facing. And he sighed, seeing how he was met with a large round door, arcane glyphs seemingly warding it from something.

"If this is another test I'll…" He muttered, pressing a paw against the wooden surface.

But to his surprise, and admittedly great relief, the door responded to his actions, slowly moving aside, revealing the room beyond.

And in that room, which was bathing in an almost eerie blue light, were two Dragons. Both seemingly staring at a large hourglass? He recognised the purple scales and golden horns of Spyro pretty much immediately, but stayed wary of the one next to the Director.

"Is this another trick?" He called out, expecting a reply to echo within his mind.

But no, he got it directly from the elderly dragon instead, whom turned around to face the new arrival: "No. Welcome, Miarko." With a simple smile.

"I'm sick of the mind games already," he sighed, "No more telepathy or strange lessons on morality, please?"

This caused the elder to chuckle, seemingly rather amused by the Captain's request, "Do not worry, young one. I have no more tests in mind. But I am afraid you may not be too happy with what I have to say. I will not help you."

Miarko furrowed his brows, giving Spyro a glance. The purple hero giving an encouraging look in return. Miarko thought to himself for a few seconds, only to speak up: "Ignitus, please... Neither me nor my comrades really know what is preventing you from giving us your aid, but surely you can do something? Anything? Maybe there is a way that allows you to help without leaving?" Two arguments usually yield better results than one.

Spyro was relieved to see Miarko enter. If there was anything the purple dragon knew, it was that Ignitus had put a paw down and decided to not do anything. But maybe, just… Maybe.
He sat down upon his haunches, watching Miarko pace back and forth as he vented his frustrations for the elder:

"The world is ending, Ignitus!" The fire captain called out passionately, whilst Ignitus listened patiently with a ponderous expression. "If Congeria fully emerges we do not know what will happen. But all signs points in a bad direction, threatening to do worse damage than what he ever did. Do you really wish to make that mistake? To be the Chronicler who idly stood by as a threat worse than the one you gave your life to stop arose and tore everything that has been built by Dragonkind asunder?" Spyro was admittedly a little surprised, shifting uneasily on the spot after having heard both the end of the World and Malefor himself being brought up in the same sentence. "... He speaks true, Ignitus," The purple hero eventually chimed in, the two dragons with him turning to look his way. Spyro took his time, letting the words sink in before he continued. He tried to read his mentor's facial expression, but it was stoically unmoving. "Your predecessor did help me and Cynder once before. Back in the catacombs deep under The Well of Souls, granting us our magic back. So… Maybe you do not have to leave your duties, but you can still aide us? Because surely the record keeper needs something to record, right? And I doubt that even your orderly organization of these shelves," The director motioned with a golden wing towards some of the shelves lining the walls. "Would remain orderly for long if Congeria got her way?"

Ignitus was quiet, seemingly ruminating upon the words whose echoes slowly died down as they bounced off of the rooms walls. Several minutes of nerve wracking silence passed, and Spyro felt impatience filling his mind. He wanted to utilize his powers over time itself if it'd get the elderly dragon to come to a conclusion quicker.

He eventually broke the silence, sighing. "You young dragons never change, do you? Always persistent and driven," He spoke, a smile slowly creeping along his blue muzzle. "You have convinced me." A wave of relief washed over the Purple hero. Finally things were going in their favor! The Captain and Director shot glances with relieved looks to one another as they listened to Ignitus: "I shall infuse some of my magic into a crystal, which I think…" he paused, a tome hovering up for the wise old dragon to read from. Spyro's eyes fell upon the tome, noticing that it bore the marks of the Fire Element. This was a dragon's book, and he presumed that it was the one belonging to the guardian Ifrit. "... Yes. I have what my successor requires. She is clever, I will give her that." Ignitus mused as the tome once again found its place on a shelf. "Once I have made the final crystal required for your defenses to work, I should be able to speed up your return home. But that will be all that I can do for you. Once you leave, the fate of our world lies on your backs to bear."

As Ignitus spoke, sparks of magic began to materialise, coalescing into a small spirit gem, barely the size of a dragons eye. "Once it is in place, Congeria should be weakened back to her weakest form, ideally separating her and the Host, allowing you to destroy her physical manifestation." the elder explained. "So do not worry if any of your friends ends up in her grasp, once this is ready her hold should weaken. Now take this and go. My magic shall grant you speed and stamina to take you back to Warfang."

Miarko picked up the piece of rock, feeling the familiar thrumming of magic coasting through his body. As if he was constantly absorbing energies from a gem. As he held the stone, he felt his body… Slow down. Each breath lasted longer, his heart beat incredibly slowly and yet he felt as if he was in well rested and in peak physical condition. Hopefully they'd not have to swap whoever was holding the gemstone and risk dropping it on their journey home.

And with a final glance, the two heroes ventured forth to get Sethelis, and save the world.

Rain was falling. A steady downpour which had laid heavy upon the city streets for over a week now, non-stop rain threatening to overflow the lower city districts, flood drains being aided by pumps operated around the clock.

This was no ordinary storm, but rather a result of dark magic, a topic Cynder was all too familiar with. A crackle of lightning followed by the deafening sounds of thunder lit up the skies. "They erect a magical barrier that can block out gods, but it cannot keep the rain away?" She sighed to herself, looking out over the city from the large wall-sized window of her office. She had only recently been released back into service after that Skav had carved up her face, leaving an, according to her friends, intimidating scar. Cynder just hoped they'd be able to get rid of it once the healing gems were usable once more. Warfang had been taught a valuable lesson about infrastructure during the last two months. A city of dragons who has, for untold millenia, relied on magical energies to sort out their bodily ailments now being forced to rely upon more… Conventional and medicinal means of healing, which rapidly were running out. And even then, their situation was only getting worse.

"Madame Director, the reinforcement we sent to The Catacombs are now in place, but the jailers are still seriously underpowered when comparing them to the sheer amounts of-"

-"And what would you have me do, Terron? Since your Captain is away and the rest of the DOW are preoccupied trying to keep the unrest in the streets from turning into outright riots, I put you in charge of helping the warden of the Catacombs with keeping those criminals away from the main populace." Cynder interrupted, her elemental magic may be gone but her words were venomous. The Catacombs laying deep under Warfang's cobbled streets and floating islands had some sections of its winding networks converted into the largest incarceration facility on the continent, and currently it was holding a larger and larger amount of 'Noint supporters. Whilst their barrier defense was seemingly good at keeping the magical forces at bay, money and honeyed words from silver tongued minions of Chaos still recruited now disgruntled citizenry to their ranks. Cynder could see why so many seemingly joined Congeria's crusade against order. After all, hedonism and indulgences were a whole lot more fun when there were no rules involved.

Terron, who stood in the doorway, once more spoke up.

"That prison is a powder keg waiting to blow up. We have very little time left before the prisoners realize that the bluff about the guards still having their magic is just that. A lie. They may be criminals, but they aren't idiots who can be fooled indefinitely." his words ended with a deafening silence. Nothing but the rain spewing down from the heavens tapping upon the glass in front of her.

"Then I ask again, Terron. What would you have me do? Declare martial law? Tell everyone to keep calm because if they won't be calm we'll put them to the sword? These are our people, Terron. The citizens we swore to protect. What you are suggesting is going against the very ideals our group was formed upon… We are supposed to protect the people of Warfang, not subjugate them."

-"Do you see any other option? "You're stuck between a rock and a hard place", Madame Director. It is an old saying from the Vale, it means-"

Cynder interrupted the Earth dragon by putting a paw down onto the floor, rather forcefully so, before speaking up with a contemplative and yet pressed tone. "I know what it means, lieutenant. I am forced to choose between option A or B, and it doesn't matter if I like either one. I have to make that call, because hundreds if not thousands of lives depends on those prisoners remaining locked up." to which Terron replied, walking up next to the black dragoness as he spoke, "Well then. Have you made your choice? Are we to wait just a little longer, or will we show those fanatics what it means to try to turn our own people against us?"

Cynder was silent for five minutes straight, which felt like an eternity filled with nothing but thunder and lightning overhead and endless downpour. And then, just as lightning struck in the distance, the Director turned towards the Earth Dragon and nodded. "We'll hold out just a little longer. They cannot have much further to go, now. I am not putting a people with very few answers under more pressure. For now we just need to stay calm and hope."

Terron nodded at her decision. His expression unreadable as he saluted the former Terror of the Skies, backing out to leave the black dragoness alone. Lightning lit up the skies once more, and in the brief seconds of flashing lights, Cynder could've sworn she saw the dark outline of a massive dragon laughing in the clouds.

They were playing right into the mad god's plans, she just knew it. Cynder admittedly felt like she could trust no one at this point. It had started small, whispers in dark alleyways and less reputable areas, only to spread like wildfire up into even the high societies of Warfang's upper class. "The Anointed pays well for small tasks of seemingly little to no consequence" was something she'd heard uttered a few times during the last month. Usually the one line of contact that tied their agents together, which not only meant that each moving part in their plans to undermine the dragon city's defences were acting alone, but it also meant that they could be acting anywhere. Cynder had even had to personally bring in a few members of the DOW, and she knew it was all to blame on the decision to activate that gods-forsaken machine. People had lost their faith in those in charge, at best. At worst they had sought out the enemy beyond the protective bubble, only to return with instructions or malicious intent for agents within the city, and the lack of magic did not make her situation much easier. "Damn it all." She cursed to herself before walking towards the exit.

She needed to inspect the prison.

The catacombs of Warfang, ancient burial grounds turned breeding grounds for the Dark Master's armies, only to eventually turn into the prison holding an even greater threat. The citizenry of the very city above their heads. It did not feel like it was over a decade ago since Cynder last were down here. She could almost feel the emerald snake constricting her breathing around her neck as she walked down the massive stairway descending into the darkness. Some more public voices had called it inhumane, to lock up Warfang's worst and most dangerous in old tombs. But Cynder couldn't care less, and especially not now.

"Madame Director, madame Director!" a voice called, catching the Hero of Warfang's attention, as scurrying up to her side was a mole in very formal looking clothing. "I was not made aware that you were visiting. Is this yet another inspection? Why have you come… Personally?"

"Warden Jeroch, I have merely come to assess our very delicate situation. I hope things are still going well down here?" The dragon spoke as the two made their way ever downwards, passing mole contraptions like automated weaponry, gaslights that was illuminating the tunnels. Night on everything down here was artificial in some form, as to not give any prisoner the chance to wield magic or machinery against their captors. As they descended, the prison warden cleared his throat, straightening out his robes: "So far it is going as well as it can, all circumstances considered. No one has escaped and we've only had to prevent five attempts so far during this week. But I cannot stress enough how-"

"-underarmed and understaffed you are. Yes. I know." Cynder interrupted, being very aware of how bad the situation was down here. Especially considering that she knew of one particularly skilled escapist being kept down here. "And taking those things into consideration… Has prisoner 589 tried anything?" She inquired, feeling a strange itch creeping down her face where her new scar was.

"Well, she has not tried any escape attempts. Not since the last one, at least. We managed to stop her before reaching the main exit and she is currently kept in isolation as to not let her come into contact with any other prisoners. She is, however, scheduled for another interrogation in twenty or so minutes regarding how she nearly broke out an entire blocks worth of prisoners in one go." To which Cynder nodded, her expression grim. She did not enjoy the words leaving her maw one bit as she spoke: "Very well, then. Take me to her."

The door slammed shut behind her, as Cynder sat down on her haunches. Across a wooden table, chained to a chair by her feet, wrists and neck sat the smuggest and most insufferable Skav pirate the dragoness had ever met: "Ah, Cynder. Long time, no see? How's the mate and life out in the fresh air?" Elmira asked, her tone as sarcastic as always. "I see that your face is healing nicely."

-"Enough with the faked pleasantries, pirate. You know why you are here, and I have a few questions. It is in your best interests to answer them. Understood?" The Pirate gave a small shrug, causing her chains to rattle.

"Good." Cynder concluded, before locking eyes with the Skav. "I heard you've managed to unlock an entire cell block seemingly on your own. Despite that this place is designed for doors to not be openable en-mass. Did you have help?"

To which Elmira answered, rolling her eyes. "Isn't it obvious, oh dark one? The mark I still have on my forehead makes me a lot of friends quite easily. Even amongst the guards."

Cynder started to frown. "How many?"

"Enough to disable the security leading to the main exit, open a few doors. Sow some chaos, you know… I can tell you, though, I still hold no love for those crazies nor their god."

The black dragoness stared, analyzing everything from how the pirate spoke to her word choice, and she could only conclude that she was telling the truth. Maybe the sole person in the entire city that Cynder had left was the one she hated the most. And Cynder hated the very notion. "I see what you are getting at, Skav. And no, you may be locked away down here to rot for all I care."

That is when Elmira simply chuckled in response, sighing. "Ahh, Cynder. I was getting to it, I've heard whispers amongst the guards, even those posed right outside my cell. They are going to release the prisoners. And that will not be good for either you," she nodded towards the draconic hero, "Nor me. I may bear their mark, but that doesn't mean that I can bluff my way past their leaders. If they win, we'll both be dead. So my proposition is quite simple. You let me go, and I will make my way up to whoever they think is their Ancestor-god, or whatever they call it, is and kill them. Do that, and Congeria's troops will be leaderless inside the city. Deal?" The pirate's smile faded as Cynder did not even flinch.

"No, Elmira. I do not need your help."

-" Come on now, woman! Think! They'll-" and with that a loud rumble interrupted their conversation. Cynder looked around, dropping into a combat-ready stance. "They're breaking out now!?" She growled, but Elmira looked just as clueless. "No? They'd not use explosives! That must mean…"

-"They're storming the prison." Cynder filled in, keeping herself calm as she moved over towards the pirate's metallic bonds, extending her claws. "As much as I hate it, we'll need to work together to get ourselves out of here alive. We need to get to the DOW tower and secure what troops we can. Warfang will be a warzone."

And to the Director's dismay, the Pirate had seemingly been working the locks of her cuffs during the entire procedure, clicking herself free and standing up: "Right then. I'll get the doors open, and then ride on your back up to that floating tower of yours."

A/N:
I know I said we had taken a summer break, but it ended up becoming a semi-active break over Christmas and New years! So firstly, a Happy Holidays even if we are over a month late, and let's hope that we get this exciting tale a good finale in 2020! Will our heroes finally stop this evil god and her schemes? Will Elmira and Cynder make peace?! WILL IGNITUS MAKE A SECOND APPEARANCE!? Who knows! You'll just have to be patient and wait.

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