This is the final song of the dual tragedy, Love Now Lost. It is he song Valentine's Day off of Linkin Park's album Minutes to Midnight. Once again, sad and heartbreaking, but it needed to be done. Tired of the 'Cynder kills herself" moment and tried something new.
"I miss you." Spyro clinched his eyes as he stood in front of the finely marked tombstone of his only lover and mate. Three months had passed since her tragic death. "Cyn, everything's worthless without you here. I feel alone again; you took my joy right from underneath me." Tears flowed from them once more, dropping onto her grave. "I'm tired of feeling this way, my darling. I want you see you...make love to you...I want to live with you." He sighed and brought his forepaw up to brush his tears away. "That was my promise, Cyn. We were to live together, do you remember?"
- - - - - - -
My insides all turned to ash, so slow
And blew away as I collapsed, so cold
A black wind took them away, from sight
And held the darkness over day, that night
- - - - - - -
Spyro opened his eyes and looked up at the darkening sky. The storm was blowing in; one of the many expected winter blizzards. He shivered as the cold wind smashed up against his scales. His claws clinched into the soil as he braced himself for the next cold breeze. "If you're looking down, Cyn. I sure hope you see how you've left me...and her."
- - - - - - -
And the clouds above move closer
Looking so dissatisfied
But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing
- - - - - -
His forepaw found its way on the top of the marked grave, clasping it as if it were to come to life with his touch. "You never failed me, Cynder. I can't believe you left me feeling that you did. Cyn, you were everything to me. What ever happened, we did together." He turned his head away and sniffled. "Cyril said your stomach had ruptured, Cyn, but I know more than that. You died, because your heart was broken. You thought you let me down, Cynder, but you couldn't have. Now with you gone, where do I go?"
- - - - - -
I used to be my own protection, but not now
Cause my path had lost direction, somehow
- - - - - -
Spyro sighed once more and turned behind him.
"Nimbus?" he softly called. "Come here, child." Spyro watched with a sad smile as his grey-scaled daughter emerged from a small shrub. Her features were much like her mother's, right down to the scythe tip of her tail, but her eyes were amethyst instead of sapphire. The young hatchling scampered over to Spyro's right forearm, nuzzling against it as she growled lovingly. "You were wrong, Cyn. We both were. I couldn't get rid of the only memory of you; so I kept it...I kept her. Cynder...this is your daughter."
- - - - - - - -
A black wind took you away, from sight
And held the darkness over day, that night
- - - - - - - - -
Nimbus looked up at Spyro with her amethyst eyes set to worry. She had just hatched two weeks ago. Now that she was capable of walking, Spyro decided it was time for her to see her mother's final resting place. Besides, Ember was unavailable to watch her; she had romantic plans with Flame for the evening to try for their second young one. Spyro lowered his head and licked the top of his daughter's, getting a happy purr from her throat as he did.
"She's so much like you, Cyn," Spyro talked back to the tombstone. "I wish you were here so you'd see. Her hatching day...was just after yours. It's been hard on everyone." He clinched his eyes shut as he remembered her funeral. It was raining that day, heavy and cold while the dragons sat on their haunches around her colder limp form. She was even beautiful in death. A snowflake found its way onto Nimbus's snout, causing her to cutely shake it off of her muzzle. Spyro still stood as more flakes landed on his scales. "I'm giving her to the Guardians, Cynder. They can raise her better than I can."
- - - - - - -
And the clouds above move closer
Looking so dissatisfied
And the ground below grew colder
As they put you down inside
But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing
- - - - - - -
The wind picked up again, howling as it rocked Spyro's side. Instinctively, he dropped down onto his knees and shielded his daughter with his wing. She whimpered from the cold and pressed her snout into his leg. "She's too young to understand now, but one day she will. I can't see her everyday; she's too much like you." He scratched the top of her back, just between her wing joints. "I know Cyril would train her very well. She's a wind dragon, just like her mother. I can't take the memory...I can't take not being with you." He lowered his neck down and gently clamped down on his daughter's, hoisting her up to transport her. "Goodbye, Cyn," he whispered. "I'll see you soon."
- - - - - - - - - -
So now you're gone, and I was wrong
I never knew what it was like, to be alone
- - - - - - - - - -
Spyro approached the temple with Nimbus hanging from his muzzle. He looked down at her and sniffled at her loving gaze. He couldn't do it. There was no way he could raise something that looked so much like the only one he loved. It would drive him insane waking up to see this little one grow to look just like her mother. He growled to himself but stopped once he realized that Nimbus was mimicking him.
"Child," Spyro spoke softly, his voice muffled by her scales. "I love you just like I love your mother, but I cannot go on. Be respectful to those who will raise you, my dear Nimbus. Your mother and I will be watching you daily until you join with us." She whimpered as she listened, unsure of any word her father just told her. "These dragons made me who I am now. I trust that they can do the same to you. I'm sorry." He reached the main temple where the three Guardians were sitting in the middle, waiting for him.
"Are you sure, Spyro?" Terrador asked. "I don't think this is what you want." Spyro turned his head to drop the dragonet down on the concrete floor.
"None of it was," he replied darkly. "What I wanted was Cynder to be here to raise her with me. You told us that grey eggs meant infertile. We believed you and had them smashed. That means...I had three of my children killed."
"If Cynder wouldn't have died, would you have kept this one?" Spyro clinched his eyes tight, pushing hot tears out from them.
"No."
"Think about it, Spyro. Her death gave you your child. It is true that grey represents death, friend, but sometimes it can be misleading. The other three...may not have made it." Spyro's teeth grit against each other as he turned his head towards the exit.
"Just take her," he growled. "I have someone I need to see."
"Spyro!" But it was too late. The purple dragon rushed out the door and into the rapidly increasing storm.
- - - - - - - -
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
- - - - - - - -
Spyro ran with all of his fury and depression rolled into one tragic escape plan. Cynder gave him a child; she held her promise, but he could not find himself to raise it alone. He wanted to be with her, whether if it were in heaven with the Ancestors, or in Hell with Malefor. He didn't care. He missed her warmth, her soothing voice that made everything better. Nimbus would be fine with the Guardians; there was no one else he could trust more. He ran until he slammed into her tombstone, placing his body against it and sobbing terribly.
"I want to be with you, Cyn!" The storm clouds turned even blacker, dropping snowflakes harder than rain droplets and covering Spyro's body with pristine white. The cold was reaching him, chilling his blood. He looked up at the storm before curling up against her tombstone.
"I'll be home soon, darling," he sobbed out, his tears stinging his face with cold. "And Nimbus? I'm so sorry. I can't be alone."
- - - - - - -
(I used to be my own protection, but not now)
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
(Cause my mind has lost direction, somehow)
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
(I used to be my own protection, but not now)
On a Valentine's Day, on a Valentine's Day
PEACE!
(Cause my mind has lost direction, somehow)