Spyro, Cynder, and Sparx approached the entrance to the Chronicler's room slowly, uncertain. When they were at the threshold, Spyro called,
"Chronicler? Are you here?"
There was no answer.
They looked at each other, unsure. None of them spoke. After a moment, they went inside.
The doors rumbled shut behind them.
They all turned around in surprise.
"We're locked in?" Cynder exclaimed. "Why?"
"Because even this deep into my home, I can only offer you limited safety," said a voice that they all recognized.
They turned around in disbelief as the Chronicler hobbled into view from behind the giant hourglass at the center of the room. It wasn't the Chronicler that Spyro had met over five million years ago, though; it was someone much more familiar.
"Ignitus?" the three cried simultaneously in surprise.
"I am called that no longer," the dragon replied with a warm smile, "but yes, it's me…and I've been waiting for so long to see you all again."
"Ignitus!" Spyro cried again, this time joyfully, and he ran to his old friend and threw his entire upper body around the ancient dragon's left arm.
"Oof!" the Chronicler exclaimed upon impact, nearly knocked onto his knees by the blow. "Careful now, young dragon; I'm happy to see you again, too, but I'm not as strong as I was the last time we spoke!"
"I thought you guys said Ignitus died!" Sparx said to Cynder reproachfully.
"I did," said the Chronicler; "that's how the previous Chronicler was able to pass his time-keeping duties on to me."
Spyro looked up at his mentor and friend in wonder and saw that Ignitus was, indeed, not as strong as he had been. He had turned a mottled black-and-white, the same colors as the previous Chronicler, and he had the same old, tattered look about him. He was also wearing the same blue, tattered clothing of the previous Chronicler, and he had the same large, blue crystal around his neck. Still, he was unmistakably Ignitus.
Anticipating Spyro's question, the Chronicler explained, "Young dragon, each and every Chronicler that has ever been master of this hall has been a dragon whose time has passed, and whom the previous Chronicler saw as worthy of taking on the great responsibility, at the dawn of a new age."
"Wait," Cynder said, her mind starting to work again, "what do you mean, you can only offer us limited safety? I mean," she added quickly, "I'm really glad to see you again, but…"
"Peace, my dear child, I am not offended," the Chronicler reassured her. He hobbled over to where she and Sparx remained, Spyro following beside him. "As for what I said, even here, you are not safe, though I would not have it this way."
"What's wrong, Ignitus?" Spyro asked him.
"Young dragon, I am Ignitus no longer," the Chronicler said gently, turning to the small purple dragon, "and I mean that what you fear has, indeed, come to pass; your return to the world has been accompanied by the return of one other."
"Malefor?" Spyro asked.
The Chronicler nodded affirmatively. "Yes," he said, "and we haven't much time; he will be slowed by the magic of the gates, but he will break through eventually."
"Wait," Sparx said, "you mean Red was the reincarnation of Malefor?"
"Yes and no," the Chronicler replied. "Red has admirably separated himself from the being from which he originated; he is his own dragon now. Sadly, he has passed on, and Malefor has taken his place."
"How do you know that?" asked Cynder.
The Chronicler gestured toward the many books on the shelves that lined the walls. "I've been keeping an eye on him through his book while I waited for you."
"Oh yeah, you keep track of everything in here," Cynder said as she remembered what Spyro had told her long ago. "Sorry. I guess I forgot."
"It's quite alright, dear child," the Chronicler told her warmly.
"Why did you make us go through the Elemental Trials, anyway?" asked Cynder.
"Here's a better question: How is it that Malefor managed to come back?" asked Sparx.
"Well, Cynder, you and Spyro needed to get re-accustomed to using your powers, and the Elemental Trials were conveniently set up already by my predecessor. As for your question, Sparx…" he sighed.
"Well, there's a long story behind that," the Chronicler said after a minute, "as are the other stories I need to tell you; especially you, Cynder," he added, facing her. "But first things come first, as I'm not sure how much time we have; I have some things to give to each of you."
"Yay, presents!" Sparx exclaimed as the Chronicler turned around and hobbled back to the other side of the room.
"Yes," said the Chronicler, chuckling as he went, "presents, though you might not like one of them."
"Why would you give us a present we won't like?" asked Sparx, crossing his arms.
"Sparx!" Spyro exclaimed at his friend.
"Because," the Chronicler answered, limping back over to them, "I am the only one who can, and this is the only time I can give it. Besides, small friend, it is not for you." He continued slowly over to them, some things clutched in his right hand, which he held aloft from the ground. They couldn't see most of what he held, but what they could see was a beautiful silver Dragon Amulet, set with a yellow gem, the chain two continuous pieces of metal that had been beaten out to look like curved knife blades.
"This is for you, Cynder," the Chronicler said as he reached them. "I made you this, as you are a female dragon, and this is, in a sense, your birthday."
"But she doesn't need one," Spyro said. "She's one of the dragons of old."
"I know that," replied the Chronicler, "but Cynder is a very special dragon, and I thought it would be good to give her something that would make her feel more secure in life." He put down the other objects he held behind him, so that they were hidden from view, and then, flapping his wings gently to hold himself up, he raised the Amulet with both hands and fastened it around Cynder's neck.
"There you are, my dear child," the Chronicler said, gently lowering himself back to the ground. "That Amulet should help you think things through without doubting yourself."
"Thank you," she said, gazing into the gem's comforting glow, her mind already more at ease, "but please, tell me so I'll know: Am I a Wind Dragon?"
The Chronicler bent down and brushed the tip of his snout against the strange pattern on Cynder's forehead and said, "Of course you are, my child. Poison, Fear, and Shadow are not elements that any dragon is born with naturally; they are dark arts, as you yourself have surmised."
"But then, why does Poison come so naturally to me?" Cynder asked, looking up at him, filling with hope despite her argument.
"You must understand, Cynder, that Poison is the first element you were exposed to when you hatched; the terrible, poisonous influence of the Dark Master," the Chronicler explained. "Make no mistake, that is a form of Poison, and having been so intimately familiar with it at birth, your bond with the element is unnaturally strong. Nonetheless, you are a Wind Dragon, and you should never doubt that."
Cynder, overjoyed at this revelation, was unable to speak.
"For you, Sparx," the Chronicler continued, picking up one of the items he'd set down and presenting it to the glowing dragonfly, "I constructed this."
"What is it? Oh, very funny," Sparx commented sarcastically after floating over and seeing what the Chronicler was holding. "A butterfly. Thanks a lot."
"Not just a butterfly, my glowing friend," the Chronicler replied, not as offended as any of them would have expected of Ignitus; "this is imbued with a power to reward you for taking so many hits for Spyro over the past decade. I made it in the form of a butterfly because you are used to eating them."
"O-kaaaaay…" Sparx said uncertainly, picking it up. He looked at it for a minute, and had to admit that he'd never seen another butterfly like it in all his days of eating butterflies, even powerup butterflies. It was violet - he'd never seen a violet butterfly before - and it glittered in the light, as though it were covered in diamond dust. He hesitated another moment, then, with a why-not? shrug, he stuffed it in his mouth and chewed.
"Hey," he said after he swallowed it, "this is pretty good-whoa!"
A ripple of energy coursed through his tiny body, causing his light to flash brightly. A moment later, he was back to normal.
"Okay…what did that do?" Sparx asked.
"Try throwing your light," the Chronicler suggested.
"Throwing my light," Sparx repeated. "Right. Um…let's see…hi-yah!" he cried, making a throwing motion at Cynder. To his surprise, a small orb of yellow light flew out of his hand and hit Cynder's shoulder with a pop! that was accompanied by a tiny explosion.
"Ow!" she exclaimed, flinching.
"Ow?" Sparx repeated, chuckling. "Seriously? Ow? You mean that actually hurt?"
"Yeah, it stung a little," Cynder said, amazed; her ow! had been more in surprise than actual pain.
Sparx turned to the Chronicler, who produced a red gem from inside his tattered cloak and handed it to Cynder. "Here," he said, "use this."
As much to her surprise as everyone else's, she absorbed it, and felt a noticeable difference that everyone could see.
"Wait," Sparx said, amazed, "you mean I actually hurt her?"
"As I said, I thought you'd like a reward for being a living shield for so long," the Chronicler said to him by way of answering. "Now be careful with that! Don't make me regret giving it to you!"
"How long will I be able to do that?" asked Sparx.
"For the rest of your life," the Chronicler answered.
"Sweet!" Sparx said. "Thanks, old man!"
"You're welcome," the Chronicler replied. "And now, for the gift I doubt any of you will appreciate for some time." He turned back to where he'd set down the objects, picked them up, and held them out to Spyro and Cynder somewhat reluctantly.
"What are those?" Cynder asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the Chronicler.
"Ignitus?" Spyro asked, rendered all but speechless. "W-Wh-What the - why?"
"Are you kidding me?" Sparx asked, laughter rising in his throat. "Seriously?"
"Please understand," the Chronicler responded to them apologetically, "I wouldn't give these to you now if I had a choice, but it can't wait! There won't be another time!"
Sparx couldn't contain himself; he laughed, hard and loud.
"Oh, this is too good!" he howled. "Too good! We came all this way, fighting monsters and solving puzzles, for this! A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
Spyro and Cynder looked from the objects the Chronicler was holding to each other, then quickly looked in opposite directions, then turned their gaze back to the objects, then up at the Chronicler, then back down to the objects again.
"You're really gonna make us do this, aren't you?" Cynder said resignedly.
"I am sorry, I truly am, but this is the only opportunity you'll ever have," the Chronicler answered. "I'm the only one left in the world who can do this for you, and my time is coming to an end."
"What do you mean?" Spyro asked, concerned despite his confused apprehension.
"I'll explain that later," replied the Chronicler, "but right now, please, you have to take these. I'll try to make it as easy as possible for the both of you." He turned to Sparx. "Sparx, if you'd rather not be a part of this, you can go over there and practice throwing in the meantime." He gestured toward the other end of the room, behind the giant hourglass.
"Don't mind if I do," Sparx said happily. On his way by, he said to Spyro and Cynder, "Sucks to be you guys! Have fun with that!" Then he buzzed away, chuckling.
"Here I thought there was a reason you always call Spyro 'young dragon'," Cynder muttered loudly.
"Yeah, and why you've been calling Cynder 'dear child'," Spyro added.
"You are young, I know, but there won't be anyone to do this for you when you're older, so please, just take them!" the Chronicler said, getting frustrated.
"Well," Cynder said slowly. "I guess we would do this when we're older anyway, so…which one's whose?" she asked, resigned.
"If you could take the silver one and Spyro could take the gold one, that would be good," answered the Chronicler. "Don't put them on, though; that's for later."
Reluctantly, Spyro picked up the small gold ring set with an amethyst that the Chronicler held, while Cynder took the silver ring set with a ruby.
I can't believe this, Sparx thought, peeking at them from behind the hourglass. This is even better than when they were tied together by Malefor's snake charms! They're actually getting married!
The Chronicler did his best to make the ceremony as quick and painless as possible for the two young dragons, using the shorthand version of everything he was required to say. Sparx watched them from behind the hourglass, unable to resist, trying to laugh as quietly as possible throughout the whole thing; all three dragons were too distracted to hear him. Finally, they came to the last step.
"Put the rings you hold on one another at the same time, and seal the bond you two will share until the end of time," the Chronicler said.
"What?" Spyro asked. "But purple and gold are my colors, and red and silver are Cynder's colors."
"That's the point," the Chronicler replied simply.
"Okay…" Spyro said under his breath, turning to Cynder. Awkwardly, the two managed to hold themselves up by their wings as they each put the rings on each other's left hands. Almost instantly, the rings shrank to fit snugly on their claws.
"And so, it is done," the Chronicler said with finality. "Spyro, Cynder, you shall be together forever."
"Glad that's over with," Cynder said.
"Me too," Spyro agreed, then he turned to address the Chronicler. "Now please, tell us: why did you have to do this now?"
The Chronicler sighed. "Because," he answered, "very soon, I will have no choice but to pass on my duties as the Keeper of Time, and go on to join the Ancestors."
"But there aren't any dragons of old for you to pass it on to," Spyro protested.
"So long as a drop of the old blood runs through his veins, it will be enough for my successor to be able to accept this position," the Chronicler replied. "As I said, I will have no choice."
"But…" Spyro was upset; he'd only just been reunited with his mentor, and he couldn't believe that he was about to lose him again.
"There will be time for you to understand," the Chronicler told him. "In the meantime, there are stories that need to be told, and questions that need to be answered, before you three can go to face what you must do. You can come out now, Sparx," the Chronicler added, not turning his head. Sparx buzzed out from behind the giant hourglass.
"How much of that did you watch?" Spyro demanded of his friend.
"Um…" Sparx answered sheepishly.
"Never mind," Spyro said, shaking his head.
"How about you guys tell me what's been going on in the world?" Cynder demanded of Spyro, Sparx, and the Chronicler. "I keep hearing that it's a long story, but I'd like to know, because it sounds like everything's changed."
"Everything has changed," the Chronicler told her, "and I intend to begin with that story."