~Zephra~

The young dragon jolted up with a terrified cry, his body shaking heavily. He looked around frantically to find himself in a small, marble room. He shuddered and rested his head on his forepaws; his breathing and heart rate finally slowing after a few minutes.

Spyro glanced around the room he was in. It was windowless with what seemed to be white marble walls, reminding him of Warfang. There was a single, heavy wooden door, sturdily hinged and made of ancient weathered cedar.

It was nothing like the grey expanse he had been in moments ago. Had it been a dream? It had seemed so eerily real…

The purple dragon shivered and curled up again wretchedly, too dazed to think of anything else, closing his eyes once more. He drifted off again, still twitching with the occasional shake or shiver.

A few moments later, a green dragoness rushed into the room, followed by a small yellow blur. The sleek 'green' looked down at Spyro, worry etched into her emerald eyes. She placed one forepaw on the purple's forehead and sighed with relief. Though still damp with sweat, the sleek scales were no longer warmer than they should have been under the pad of her paw. He'd been pushing a high fever since she'd awoken in the rubble that was all that remained of the temple.

Cynder sighed, closing her eyes, remembering.

The black dragoness cracked her eyes open, barely. Her throat felt like fire, and every other part of her body felt as cold as ice. Something was pushing down on her, slowly crushing her body, robbing her lungs of air. In her dazed, half-awake state, Cynder realized she couldn't move an inch.

Her eyes snapped shut suddenly as they stung with grit, eliciting pained tears from between her tightly closed eyelids. Desperately, she tried to paw at her eyes to rid them of the dirt that was blinding her, but realized with a jolt of horror that she couldn't. It felt like her paw was buried in a hard gritty substance, pinned down. Panic rose in her chest; she felt as though she couldn't breathe.

Too confused and terrified to think straight, she tried to call out.

"Sp-!" but she broke off as dirt filled her maw. She gagged it out a moment later, doing her best not to inhale more of the stuff.

Cynder experimented with lifting her head, and was grateful when it didn't take much to find air.

'Where am I?' She wondered. Light burned her eyes when she opened them, blinking away the grit. She squeezed her eyes shut again, wiggling her body slightly to see what was mobile and what wasn't. She seemed to be trapped under something large; well most of her body was covered in rubble.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Cynder tried opening her eyes again, only to squint. The light was painfully bright on her sore irises.

Still squinting, Cynder called out, "Spyro?"

No answer.

"Spyro! Where are you?"

Cynder opened her eyes fully and stubbornly kept them open, even as they got the full blast of a bright midday sun. After waiting a few minutes, during which her eyes adjusted, she got a good look at her surroundings.

A sharp pain stung her heart when she realized she was in the temple – or the little that was left of it. The once beautiful building looked like hell. The ceiling was all but gone and, along with the topmost section of the walls, seemed to be responsible for the majority of the debris and shattered stone that had her trapped. One pillar rested atop her back; she would be dead and gone if another broken pillar hadn't been on her other side, holding most of its weight.

She looked around frantically, 'Where is he?'

All she could see was muted grayish and brown tones, none of the bright amethyst she hoped for.

Turning her head around as far as possible, she felt momentary relief when she caught a flash of gold on the edge of her vision, only to growl in disappointment when she saw it was part of a shattered vase. After a few moments of looking around, she spotted a gleam of dull purple.

Her heart lurched. There he was; no wonder she hadn't noticed him easily… His usual amethyst had faded to dull muted purple – no darker than ash. His gold stomach and horns seemed to have lost their luster as well.

Luckily, the purple dragon wasn't trapped like she was, though it didn't look like he'd be getting up any time soon. The state he was in pained her heart. His chest rose and fell steadily enough, so she knew he was okay for now.

Time passed and darkness fell. Cynder had even drifted to sleep once, after exhausting herself trying to struggle out from under the pillar. Try as she might, she could only clear away the smaller bits of rubble around her. Her belly was pushed against the cool stone floor of the temple, so there was no widening the gap. She dare not go as far as blasting the thing, as that would surely cause large chunks of it to fall on top of her.

After waking up and another good hour of struggle, she cursed and laid her chin on her forepaws, breathing heavily. This was getting her nowhere fast. She had already tried slipping into her own shadow, but found her elemental energy completely depleted. She was tired, hungry, scared to death that, without help, Spyro wouldn't make it and even a bit claustrophobic for her current position. Her whole body ached from the weeks of stress and little sleep she had gone through.

Cynder sighed before drifting back into sleep.

The next few hours had passed quietly; Cynder had almost been content as everything started to haze over. They had done it, and that was enough to satisfy her for now. She'd already accepted death. Ancestors knew she'd certainly had enough terror and hardship for a lifetime; the silence and stillness seemed almost a condolence to her. She was too tired to be afraid anymore. Thinking the end was near, the beautiful dragoness had laid her head on her forepaws with silent dignity as she felt herself fazing into blackness.

Cynder's eyes blinked open to find herself in someplace else, surrounded by blue mist. In front of her stood a sleek, black dragoness, who towered over her. The dragoness looked identical to herself in the years she that had spent under Malefor's maniacal control, but Cynder found herself unafraid. This dragon lacked any malice in her eyes, which were an incredible ocean blue rather than the sickly yellow slits that Cynder's had once been. The dragoness also lacked Cynder's silver set of a necklace, anklets and a tail ring, as well as the ripped and ragged wings Cynder had once been forced into.

The dragoness had an air of kindness and pureness Cynder's dark side had certainly lacked, though coupled with a sense of overall sadness that Cynder recognized all too well.

"Who are you?" Cynder whispered, in awe as the dragoness stepped forward with all the grace of a queen.

"You may call me Zephra," the black dragoness whispered in a voice that sounded ancient and wise, but so sad. Then she shook her head to clear it, "but that is not important, what is important now is that you continue fighting. Help will arrive sooner than you think, and the purple one needs you, now more than ever."

"I don't understand, isn't it over?" Cynder looked at the strange apparition, the ghost of tears appearing in her emerald orbs, "haven't we done enough?"

The spirit sighed, "I cannot answer that question, though I have spent what seems to be a millennia trying. What you do is your choice, and whether it is worth your effort or not is your own decision to make. Nobody can make it for you. I cannot foretell what the future holds for you -or for anyone, but I believe there is a chance that, one day, peace will come. A new age has begun, young one. No one can foretell what it holds in entirety, but I do know this of life – someone dear to me said this many a time: It will go on."

Cynder nodded, straightening herself, "As will I. I don't know who," – 'or what' she added mentally – "you are, but thank you."

The dragon dipped her head and her silvery markings seemed to flash, "Are you ready to return?"

Cynder gave a strong nod, "Yes."

The mirage of a realm faded and Cynder cracked her eyes open, the usual gleam of determination returned to them.

"Thank you," she whispered in her cracked and sore voice, "Zephra."

After that, time had passed in a blur. Cynder had been drifting in and out of sleep; she barely remembered the search party finding them, or being carried back to Warfang. The only part of it she remembered in the haze had been the relief of the cool wind on her face, whipping around her lithe form.

(AN)

Yes, the prologue was just a fever-dream, or waaaassss it? Was there any meaning behind it?

I would like to dedicate this chapter to… My cat Nikki Marie, who's just starting to perk up after a bit of anemia. Somehow I didn't find those fleas… I still feel very guilty about missing them, and it's a bit of a hard reminder that she is pretty darn old for a cat. She's now on food that's high in iron, and additional wet food and seems better than ever! Thank god…

I would like to thank Son of the Sea 100897 for being the first reviewer and, as always, Riverstyxx for being the best Beta ever! *shows Live-Long-and-Prosper sign*

(Even though I'm not a fan of the original Star trek…)

Yes, Cyn is green, that will be explained next chapter unless something weird comes up, so don't ask. Also, Sparx and Cynder were willingly traveling even a short distance to the same place? O.o It's the Apocalypse…

Okay, now that's out of my system… We meet Zephra! And I'm going to say this now: she is NOT related to Cynder in any biologic way. In fact, anyone who can figure out WHY she looks like Cynder and doesn't already know will get a lovely E-care package.

So, reviews make my day and I love hearing theories on my plotline more than anything.

Finally, thank you to the five who have reviewed, I send thee E-hugs!

That's right! E-HUGS! XD

That's all for now! ^.^

~GGN~