A/N: Hi guys! As usual, sorry for the wait, I got attacked by assignments again. Anyways, the opening scene I've got here with the Bulbin is supposed to be foreshadowing in the previous chapter, so once I go back and edit all of the chapters (to correct typos and such) I'll move it to the previous chapter. Thanks to everybody who reviewed the last chapter as well, especially Lord Lithos Maitreya, who has kindly agreed to beta this story and help me sort out some plot details!

Anyway, I hope you like the chap and I'd love to get some feedback! Thoughts, opinions, anything really. I was astounded at the response I recieved last time, and I'd love to hear what you have to say about this chap!

I do not own the Legend of Zelda and Spyro franchises

Edits:
- Minor grammatical, formatting and phrasing corrections

Chapter 6 – One's True Nature

The Bulbin leader sat with his back against the tree, staring idly at the bleak horizon. He could hear the sounds of his troops behind him, clattering their weapons and tending to the wounded. Occasionally, the muffled squeal of one of his dying kin reached his ears as he was put out of his misery, accompanied by the somewhat sickening sound of metal being forced into flesh. It saddened him to see them pass, but there was no time for long and tedious recuperation. They would have to report back soon, and they would already be facing dire consequences for failing to capturing the two Hylians.

He fiddled with the bloody arrow in his hand, gently tracing his finger along the honed metal surface of its tip. To his bitter disappointment, the unfortunate soul who had been hit with this arrow wasn't one of the Hylians, but one of his own troops due to a misfire. He'd pulled it out himself, but not before the poison had entered his bloodstream. Like so many others, he had to be killed, even though he could recover if he was given the time.

Despite his depressing thoughts, a small smile came to his face. He glanced down at the arrow, and then back towards the horizon, twilight beginning to stain its contours with vibrant shades of blood red. His smile grew: through his eyes, the sky seemed to symbolize the spilling of the great Hero's blood.

Another wave of glee washed over the Bulbin as he mentally calculated the number of hours since their ambush.

"The Bittersweet's toxins ought to be revealing their true nature right about now…"

The princess stood behind her friend as he heaved, holding his dirty blonde bangs out of his face. Despite the cold, his face felt like it was on fire, and she could feel beads of sweat trickle down his face – the sure signs of a prevalent fever. His breathing had become shallow and hoarse, causing his frame to quiver violently with each breath.

Needless to say, Link had already broken his promise.

Whatever his ailment was, it had taken its time to reveal itself. After coming to an agreement with the foreign Hylians, Cyril had made a swift flight back to his icy dwelling, being sure to avoid the curious gazes of the dark army as he flew. The trip had been a quick one, and shortly after their arrival Zelda was already treating Link's wounds and Cyril had managed to make a half-decent mattress out of some rags and blankets he'd stolen from the fortress. The ice dragon watched Zelda bandage her friend's wounds silently, but couldn't help but question when the girl produced a vial of red liquid from a satchel around her waist. Smiling, she'd introduced the concoction simply as a 'red potion'. It was a healing remedy commonly used by travelers from her home land that possessed great medicinal qualities from a large variety of herbs, making it one of the more expensive medicines to buy. After a short argument and a grimace, Link downed the potion as quickly as he possibly could, trying to keep the bright red liquid well away from his taste buds (which, judging by the look on his face afterwards, he'd failed to do miserably). He was fine after that, mostly sleeping to allow his body to recover for a handful of hours. It wasn't until about half an hour ago that his condition had changed drastically.

Link heaved again, his body shuddering violently at the force of his stomach trying to empty itself. Zelda swallowed, trying to stop the bile from welling up in her own throat as her friend wrenched again. She knew nothing would come of it – his stomach had lost its contents long ago.

His breathing slowed – a sure sign that the horrid convulsions had stopped for now. She sat down next to her friend and allowed him to slump into her, exhausted and drained by whatever sickness had befallen him. His breath was hoarse, and despite the fact that he was burning up the princess could feel him shivering.

Zelda peered at the mouth of the ice cave and saw Cyril examining a piece of blood stained cloth. The ice dragon didn't have much in the way of experience when it came to medicine, but he was sure that whatever sickness had befallen him wasn't caused by the weather.

"Anything yet?" the princess asked, a small flicker of hope present in her voice.

Sighing, Cyril abandoned the piece of cloth and made his way over to the pair of Hylians. He didn't want to say it aloud, but so far he'd come up with nothing, and was sure that he wouldn't be making any breakthroughs anytime soon. The ice dragon sat down next to the two, but couldn't bring himself to meet Zelda's hopeful and expectant gaze. Instead he watched Link with sad eyes, wracking his mind for a way to heal the youth. He had his own potions and medicines stored in his den, but without knowing what the boy's true ailment was there was no way Cyril would risk worsening his condition by trying one of his remedies in the false hope that it would cure him. It was simply too risky.

The ice dragon could feel the girl's gaze move from him as she understood his silent answer. He took a quick glance at her, and the sadness and worry he saw on her face allowed guilt to solidify in his stomach, sitting there like a piece of rotting meat that simply wouldn't digest.

They all sat in near silence for a moment, the only sound being Link's ragged and shallow breathing.

"How long until your friends get here?"

Zelda's quiet question drew the dragon from his thoughts, but did nothing to lighten the dead weight in his stomach.

"An hour or so if the weather's good to them. Hopefully they'll have the means to cure Link of his illness, I only told them he was injured and you both needed proper shelter. I didn't suspect his condition would worsen to such a state."

Zelda simply nodded in reply, and then gazed at the sky above - praying safe passage to whomever was coming to their aid. They all simply sat there for a while, absorbed in their own thoughts, until Link released a low groan and shifted onto his knees as the convulsions returned for another round.

Please make haste…

It was the very first time Spyro had flown up into the airstreams, and to be completely honest, it was exhilarating. The strong wind currents carried him along at a break neck pace, and being so high up in the air was invigorating. Adrenalin rushed through his veins as the young dragon twisted and twirled through the air, falling and tumbling as the winds continued to push him onwards. Hunter simply watched his friend enjoy himself, shaking his head at how immature and reckless his stunts were getting. The cheetah couldn't blame him though, the poor guy had been locked up for a solid week now, so if flying around like a lunatic meant getting all of that energy out of his system, then so be it. Besides, if the cheetah had wings he was sure he'd being doing the exact same thing.

"Looks like someone's going to sleep well tonight!" Meadow practically screamed, trying to get his voice heard over the sound of the wind rushing past him.

"Yeah! He might put me to sleep soon; I'm getting tired just watching him!"

The small party continued to fly on, allowing the strong high altitude winds to propel them south. Spyro had slowed down now, trying to conserve his energy for the rest of the trip. The air was beginning to chill and thin out as they got closer to their destination. With Levant's few words of advice, the small party descended below the clouds before they thickened, making it easier to navigate and breathe. Hunter and Meadow had put on their cloaks to try to protect themselves from the cold, whilst Spyro and Levant continued to fly on. They had certainly come a long way via the airstreams; before going above the clouds the lush (and very wet) Valley of Avalar was laid out beneath them, but now frozen oceans and icebergs had been strewn below them like diamonds on blue velvet.

Spyro broke into a glide as he observed the icy scenery. It had been years since Spyro had last visited the icy fortress that was Dante's Freezer, and the memories that he held about the desolate place weren't ones he liked to dwell upon. Not much had changed really, just the number of apes and other fortress denizens had dropped severely, and the place was a whole lot quieter in general. Perhaps Cyril has managed to get the apes under control, Spyro thought as he scanned the freezing wastelands. Despite his optimistic thoughts, the young dragon couldn't help but feel uneasy about returning to its frozen walls. Something about returning seemed unnerving to him, as if there was something within the fortress that was…well, evil.

They continued to fly on, undisturbed by the inhabitants of the icy islands. The fortress was in sight now, its stark stone walls standing out from the expanses of white that surrounded it. Just as before, the once mighty fortress was in ruins; only the inner most sections had survived whatever cruel war had raged outside its walls many years ago. The outermost walls had crumbled and fallen before whatever mighty foe they had faced.

Levant veered off to the left, carrying the two cheetahs away from what Spyro had thought was their destination. Slightly confused, the young dragon followed them anyway, hoping that Levant knew where he was going. Knowing Cyril and his rather egotistical and haughty nature, Spyro would've imagined that his old mentor would've stationed himself within the actual fortress, not on the outskirts where they were headed. Putting his doubts aside, the young dragon continued to follow the others, keeping an eye out for any hostile inhabitants as they flew. The party made a few more turns before finally making their descent.

Spyro swooped down towards their snowy runway, breaking into a glide as he leveled himself out. The young dragon then pulled up swiftly to lose the momentum he'd gained while flying, and with a slight hover landed lightly on the ice and snow beneath him. Pain and weariness coursed through the dragon's aching flight muscles the moment he hit the snow. Levant landed shortly after, and from that point on they were to walk to wherever Cyril had made his home.

They trudged through the snow, Levant silently leading whilst Hunter and Meadow complained to each other about the cold and snow seeping between their toes. Spyro on the other hand was still watching for any foes who wished to challenge them, half expecting to get ambushed or something every time they went around a corner. He felt silly, being so paranoid, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen. The young dragon didn't know what to make of it, but if he had to guess he'd say it was either instincts or his mind simply playing tricks on him. Either way, Spyro wished he could just shake the feeling off.

"Over here!"

The unexpected voice practically gave Spyro a heart attack, but once the young dragon figured out who the voice belonged to he dashed ahead of the others to meet his mentor.

"Cyril!" The young dragon exclaimed, rushing forward to greet his mentor.

"I'm sorry Spyro, but I'm afraid reunions are going to have to wait. Please, all of you, come quickly!"

Without even waiting for a response, Cyril rushed back to wherever he'd come from, leaving a slightly crestfallen and worried Spyro in his wake. Now the dragon was sure something was up; he'd never seen Cyril act like that before. Without checking to see if the others were even following him, Spyro raced off after his mentor, mentally preparing himself for whatever he was about to face.

It only took a minute before Spyro came across a dragon sized cave carved into a wall of ice. He skidded to a halt, sending snow flying everywhere as he came to his frantic stop. So this is where Cyril lives, thought the dragon as he wandered closer to the makeshift cave. It wasn't really that impressive, nor was it anything he'd expect to find Cyril living in. He was far too proud for that. He took in a steady breath, trying to calm his anxiously beating heart. He took another, but this time he noticed something different in the air. Spyro inhaled deeply through his nostrils, allowing him to catch even the smallest of the off putting scents.

…Hmm, there's definitely blood, both dried and flowing…I can't tell what it's from though, I've never come across that scent before…There's something else foreign in there too…I think there's bandage dressings as well…yep, definitely dressings…Wait…is that bile?

Putting two and two together, the purple dragon figured that someone had gotten injured, but he wasn't sure that was the entire case. The smell of bile lingered in his nostrils, making the dragon feel a bit queasy. He had no idea why that scent was present.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew Spyro out of his thoughts, and with a quick glance saw the rest of his companions walking towards the icy den.

"Come on, Spyro," Hunter said as he passed, "We shouldn't keep Cyril waiting. You know how he gets."

The young dragon sighed in agreement. As he walked, he turned to Levant, only to notice that he hadn't moved. "Aren't you coming in?" Spyro asked him.

The normally quiet dragon shook his head. "I'm not allowed; Cyril's orders."

Spyro nodded in understanding and then followed the two cheetahs into the frozen cave. As they walked through the ice tunnel, Spyro looked at the walls of the cave, lagging further and further behind as he did so. The rough and jagged surface told the young dragon that his mentor must've carved it out of the ice himself. Every now and then, Spyro would spot some drops of blood on the ground. He didn't even have to smell it in order to tell what it belonged to.

The tunnel began to slope downwards, and Spyro (who was still rather preoccupied with his surroundings) lost his grip on the icy floor. His feet slipped from beneath him, and before the dragon was even able to say 'grublins', he was sliding headfirst down the tunnel. He desperately dug his heels into the ice, trying to stop him from sliding any further, but only succeeded in bringing himself into an upright position. Seeing the bottom, Spyro closed his eyes and braced himself for impact.

The young dragon yelped as he was brought to an abrupt halt when his body hit the carpet of snow. With the momentum he'd built up from his slide, the dragon was immediately thrust forward by the invisible force. It took the dragon several forward rolls before he finally flopped to a halt, his scaly body covered with snow.

Spyro didn't have to listen hard to hear the stifled giggles of his companions. He huffed, and brought himself up onto all fours, causing some of the snow he'd collected in his scales to slide down his sides in a chilling cascade. He saw Hunter and Meadow looking at him, both with an obvious smirk tugging at their lips.

A single word crossed the young dragon's mind:

Revenge.

Without warning, Spyro shook himself off like a dog, sending bits of snow flying in every direction possible. He snickered as the cheetahs bellowed out when the icy snow hit them, soaking into their clothing and leaving the two both cold and wet. Spyro did, however, manage to catch the sound of a high pitched squeal amongst the yells of his companions.

Ignoring the venomous looks burning into the side of his head, Spyro turned his attention to the peculiar creature standing in front of him. It stared at him with wide blue eyes, a mix of surprise and fury adorning its features. It opened its mouth as if to say something, but was quickly cut off by Cyril's hasty introductions. "Spyro, this is Zelda. She is going to be one of the two passengers you will be escorting back to Warfang. Zelda, this is Spyro, one of my students."

Despite her rage and the profanities that were sitting on the tip of her tongue, the princess managed to give the purple dragon a small, somewhat bitter, smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Spyro," she said.