A/N: Hi guys! Well, here's the next chapter! It took me quite a while to decide what was going happen in this chapter, but I figured now would be a good time to switch over to Spyro's side of the story. I'm not getting off track or anything, this chapter will tie back in to Link and Zelda's side within the next chapter (which I'm halfway through writing now). Just to make things a little clearer, this story takes place a few years after Malefor's defeat, so naturally Spyro and Cynder have grown a bit (they kind of need to be a bit bigger for future events anyways).

Well, I hope you guys enjoy this chap, and reviews and feedback are much appreciated! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far (and now that I've found the reply button on the reviews page, I can actually respond 8D (let's just say I have my moments and leave it at that, okay ^^))

Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda or Legend of Spyro characters.

Edits:
- Minor grammatical, formatting and phrasing corrections

Chapter 5 – Nothing but Bad News

The young dragon stared up at the sky as the rain poured down relentlessly from the stormy clouds above. It had been raining like that for almost a week now, and the sheer boredom it had caused was driving the young beast towards insanity.

Spyro sighed and looked upon the havoc that the rain had wrecked upon the Valley of Avalar. The river had risen a good meter or so now, and had reached halfway up the support beams that held up the docks outside the village. The once crystalline river looked as if someone had turned it upside down – the water had been turned a murky brown and debris floated on the polluted water's surface as it was carried towards the ocean. The waterfalls looked more like solid walls of mud rather than veils of water, and the bridges that allowed one passage to and from the smaller islands on the river were completely submerged, hidden by the muddy flood waters. The only thing that had changed for the better was the colour of the grass and leaves on the trees – vibrant shades of emerald green now adorned the plant life has the heavens continued to crash down from above.

Never before had Spyro seen Avalar like this, and as unusual as it was to him he had had enough of it. After all, he'd come out here to get some fresh air and spread his wings, not too be cooped up inside due to some outer influence. If he'd wanted to do that then he would've just stayed at Warfang and listened to the long and tedious meetings about revolts and uprisings all week. He was lucky that Hunter had allowed him to stay at his home (well, more like forced him to after he'd discovered the young dragon hiding in a cave) and Cynder agreed to cover for him whilst he was gone. She hated the meetings almost as much as he did, but thankfully her knowledge of the dark armies' ways usually shortened the meetings considerably. Nevertheless, Spyro often found the thought of scraping his forehead against a cheese-grater for an hour more appealing than sitting through those meetings.

Not that the rain was much better.

Spyro glanced down towards the village gate.

Still no sign of Hunter…

He'd been gone for quite some time now. The young dragon still had no clue why he'd gone out in this weather, let alone what he was doing. He'd heard him mumble something about checking on the messenger hawks, but as Spyro watched him leave the house, he'd seen the cheetah warrior walk in the opposite direction of the hawk roosts. As confused as he was, the young dragon paid no mind to it – Hunter could look after himself.

The rain began to ease up considerably, and soon the downpour had eased into a light drizzle. Spyro moved from his spot beside the window and went outside, despite how wet it was. If he didn't do something soon, boredom would surely claim his sanity.

The purple dragon leapt off the balcony and landed onto the soft, sloppy mud below, sinking into the ground somewhat. Unwittingly, he walked in the same direction that Hunter had gone, allowing his curiosity to lead him more than his mind. The dragon continued on, ignoring how he sunk into the ground with every step and the numerous puddles he walked through along the way. He soon found himself walking through the village gates. Tired of being locked up in the village for so long, Spyro shrugged off the possibility of getting rained on and took off.

The feel of the wind rushing through his scales and beneath his wings was refreshing for the young dragon, and although his wings were stiff from the lack of use, he flew with utmost grace. He loved the feeling of being in the air, defying gravity and having the freedom to go wherever he pleased. He was able to escape all of the stress and pressures that came with being a purple dragon. Sure, being powerful and destined for greatness sounded like a grand idea, but sometimes he envied those without all of that responsibility, and longed for simplicity in his life. As far as he was concerned, he'd done what the prophecies had asked of him and lived up to his reputation, so there really wasn't a need for everyone to keep pressuring him into politics and leadership. Right now he just wanted a break.

A hummed tune soon broke him out of his thoughts, and with a quick downward glance he confirmed its source.

Sitting on the rocks by the waters edge was an old grey cheetah, wearing a dull green hooded cloak, humming a foreign tune to himself whilst clinging to his staff. He swayed back and forth to its melody, his movements causing the light to glitter off the misty, pearl like orb that adorned the top of his staff. He didn't cease his tune as Spyro landed a distance away from him. The curious dragon wandered closer, trying to listen to the intriguing tune that the cheetah was so caught up in. He went even closer, as to hear the song over the sound of the river rushing past them.

The melody being hummed was like nothing Spyro had heard before. The notes constantly shifted from low to high, and although the tune was upbeat, it held a sense of sadness within its notes. It was a haunting melody, but soon the dragon had found himself captivated by it.

The humming was turned into words of an ancient dialect, and although the song continued to withhold its beauty and mystic charms, Spyro couldn't help but allow disappointment to seep into his heart. He couldn't understand the lyrics.

Deciding not to let his inability to understand the song's words get him down, Spyro made himself comfortable and continued to listen to the old cheetah's performance. He didn't have the nicest voice in the world, but he didn't seem to care. The cheetah continued his song, his mouth forming words that Spyro would never fully understand the meaning of, nor comprehend the importance of. The song began to slow, coming to a graceful end.

The cheetah faced Spyro, and with a mischievous smirk formed the final lines of the song, allowing the young dragon to hear its true meaning.

"…Play a song,

Fast or slow,

For then all of the realm will know,

The Hero of Time has come."

Spyro sat simply sat there. Although the cheetah had only shared a morsel of the song's lyrics with him, a thousand thoughts had begun spinning through his mind. He had a million questions to ask, but before the young dragon could even open his mouth the cheetah cut him off.

"It's nice to see you again, young one,"

Spyro recognized the croaky hushed voice instantly. The hermit was certainly a long way from his usual spot, and the last time he spoke to him the old cheetah had brought him and Cynder nothing but bad news.

"What was that?" the dragon asked, unable to form any other words. "What was that song?"

Amused, the old hermit simply laughed. "That is for me to know, and for you to find out."

Spyro frowned at him, disappointed that the old cheetah wouldn't elaborate on the song's meaning. "Why don't you just tell me now, it'd be a lot easier for both of us."

"I'm afraid not, young one. The Ancestors have a few more surprises in store for you."

"What do you mean by that?" Spyro asked, caution and concern obvious in his voice.

"Exactly what I said: the Ancestors have a few more surprises in store for you."

Seeing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the subject, Spyro asked another one of the burning questions that he held in his mind.

"Who's the 'Hero of Time'?"

"As I said, that's for me to know, and for you to find out."

The hermit seemed rather amused at the frustration being displayed in the dragon's face, but decided to elaborate on his previous answer.

"Let's just say that fate can be cruel sometimes, young one, and that the tides of evil are rising yet again to swallow us up in an era of darkness. You may have saved this world before, but lightning never strikes the same place twice. You won't succeed this time if you bear this burden alone."

"So you're saying I can't do this myself?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, I managed to defeat Malefor with Cynder's help last time, so I should be okay, right?"

"I'm afraid not, young dragon. Even though her powers are great, she is not strong enough. Darkness has also touched her heart, and if she engages this new evil in combat, she'll surely be consumed by it."

"She's good now! She wouldn't allow herself to be consumed by it!"

"This evil is not like Malefor, young dragon. This evil posses powers that may even exceed your own abilities."

"But didn't the guardians say that my powers were limitless or something?"

"Yes, but you have not fully realized them yet. And even if you were to, you would soon be corrupted by it, falling into the same trap that Malefor did."

"…Then how do I stop it?"

"You will find out soon enough."

The hermit looked over towards the village and smirked.

"It appears your friend I looking for you."

Sure enough, Hunter was walking out of the village gates, worry lacing his every feature.

"I'm afraid I must leave now. You might want to take this with you on your journey."

The cheetah reached inside his cloak and produced a small vial, filled with some kind of herb. Spyro accepted it, but why this old hermit thought he would need this on his 'journey' puzzled him.

"Trust me, you'll find a use for it."

Spyro nodded in reply, and the cheetah stood up.

"I'm afraid fate isn't quite done with you yet, Spyro."

And with that, he left.

"Where have you been?"

"For a quick flight, that's all," The dragon replied, shaking the mud off his paws before entering Hunter's cozy hut. It was fairly small, and only consisted of two rooms; one for sleeping and lounging around, and another for cooking. There was little furniture in the small building, but there was a homey feel to it that you could never get out of a more luxurious dwelling.

"You didn't bring any apes back with you I hope."

"Nah, there wasn't anyone out in the valley anyway." Spyro replied, conveniently leaving out his meeting with the hermit. What the old cheetah had discussed with him was something the young dragon wanted to keep to himself for now. Hunter was already looking fairly stressed at the moment, so he figured it wouldn't be a good time to share the hermit's words with him.

"Well good, because we're leaving," Hunter said, running around the room, gathering supplies for their recently announced trip.

"What do you mean we're leaving?" the dragon asked, half-heartedly following the cheetah through the house.

"I got a letter from a certain friend of yours today. We're heading south, and as soon as Levant gets here we're leaving."

"Who's Levant?"

"The dragon who's going to fly me there, since you still only just scrape the bottom of my elbows." Hunter elaborated, his last comment being rather snide.

"Oh ha ha, very funny, Hunter. And for your information, I actually come up to your shoulders now," the young dragon boasted.

"Horns and crest don't count, Spyro."

"Fine then, below your shoulders. Is Cynder coming with us?"

Hunter slung his pack over his shoulder. "No, not this time. It's pretty urgent, so we can't wait for her. However, we're going to need to bring Meadow with us."

Spyro gave him a look, and before he could even form the words Hunter answered his unspoken question.

"The note didn't say why, it just said to bring him. Now could you please go get Meadow for me?"

Spyro nodded and left. It was rather odd for Hunter to be like this – all flustered and stressed out. It worried him. Whatever that was in that letter couldn't have been good.

It didn't take long for Spyro to locate Meadow. He was near his hut, crouched over the pitiful remains that were once his herb garden, trying to salvage any surviving plants before the rain returned in its stormy wrath. Helping him was his new apprentice, Tharros, a young cheetah with a love of nature and a drive to protect all that he cherished. He only came up to Spyro's chin, and he had the strangest green sheen to his grey coat. Hunter had promised to give the young cheetah archery lessons some time ago, but so far he'd failed to keep that promise. Tharros knew that Hunter had been rather busy lately, but nobody could miss the sadness and disappointment in the cheetah's face when he was told some other time.

The young cheetah's ears flicked as he heard the dragon approach. He greeted him with a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the little daylight that seeped through the clouds.

"Hi Spyro! What's up?"

Upon hearing his apprentice's words, Meadow stood and faced the young dragon. He was covered in mud, and the weary look on his face proved that he'd been outside for some time now.

"Hi! Umm, could I have a quick word with you please Meadow, in private?"

The older cheetah looked slightly confused at first, but complied anyway.

"Tharros, could you please take those herbs back to my hut and wait for me there?"

The young cheetah nodded, and obediently took the herbs back to his mentor's home without question. As young as he was, Tharros understood that some of the things that went on around the valley only involved certain people, and that prying ears weren't always appreciated. If it didn't concern him, then he stayed out of it.

As soon as his apprentice was out of earshot, Meadow spoke.

"What is it that you need? I'm afraid I'm a little low on herbs right now, so if that's what you're looking for…" he trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"No, it's all right. I actually came here for you."

Meadow gave the purple dragon a quizzical look. "Whatever for?"

"I'm not sure exactly, but one of the guardians needs your help, so I'm guessing it's got something to do with herbs…I honestly have no clue, Hunter didn't say why."

"Okay then," Meadow replied, sounding reluctant. "If it's the Guardians that require my assistance, then I shall comply. Just give me a few minutes to gather my things and explain to Tharros what's going on. I'll meet you at the village gates?"

Despite the question sounding more like a statement, Spyro nodded and headed to the agreed location.

It had only taken about fifteen minutes for everyone to get ready. Hunter and Meadow had now taken their places upon Levant's back, tying down their bags so they wouldn't lose them during the upcoming journey. The large dragon didn't speak, and his scales were the most unusual shade of blue. Unlike the majority of other dragons he'd met (the ones that constantly badgered him about his previous adventures and possible political future) Levant seemed to be more of the silent type, which Spyro found a good thing, since now he was rather absorbed in his own thoughts. The dragon replayed his meeting with the hermit several times, trying to extract any hidden meanings within his words. It took him a few moments to realize that Hunter was speaking to him.

"You looked a little stressed Spyro, what's the matter?"

The young dragon looked up at him, and decided against telling him what was really occupying his mind. "Nothing, I'm just worried about what's going on down south, that's all."

The cheetah bought it, and with a few quick words with Levant, they took off.

Despite the fact that he was flying, Spyro felt uneasy. He could not escape the old hermit's words, and soon he felt burdened by his warnings of an upcoming evil. As the purple dragon, he was supposed to stop it, but the old hermit said he couldn't do it alone. He'd asked him if his closest friend and most powerful ally, Cynder, could help, but was told she'd be consumed if she tried to fight it. The hermit said that he would need someone's help to defeat the evil, but gave no clue as to who it was. Even as his wings took him higher into the air, Spyro could feel himself being weighed down by the grim events that were sure to come.

As he flew on, the hermit's last words echoed in his mind.

I'm afraid fate isn't quite done with you yet, Spyro…