Walking through the cobblestone streets of Lazarus, the crystal houses shining with the light of candles, Ignitus couldn't help but think of his old life in Lazarus. Bringing up those memories tugged at his heartstrings so he just focused on getting to the spire in the middle of the town, taking in the sights and smells of the city as he went.
The city was made up almost entirely out of a crystal found only in Lazarus; it became synonymous with the city and is affectionately referred to as "Lazarite" by the townspeople and outsiders. The houses had a distinctly mechanical feel about them, the way they protruded from the ground at regular intervals, leaving alleyways and streets zigzagging through the entire city. They also came with a crystal "door" that sank into the ground to allow residents to enter and exit as well as paper-thin sheets of crystal that served as windows. In spite of their crystalline nature, the inside of the houses were rather homely, with wooden furniture and fireplaces, no one ever felt strangely about living in a giant crystal. Like any other town, it had markets, clinics, everything a town should have to thrive.
Also, like any other town or city, it had a government as well. The crystal spire actually served as a town hall and palace. The Guardians lived there as well as the king of Lazarus, Eratos. They watched over the town and its inhabitants from the tower and tended to the requests of the townsfolk. No one ever knew how the town came about. There were never any records of how the town was built; it seemed to have appeared suddenly out of the ground. One thing was for sure, though, it was an extremely old city, having been in early writings dating back millennia.
It also served as a sort of antenna, focusing the natural energies of the earth and broadcasting it across the land. Most dragons were unable to feel it except for a select few. All of the Guardians could feel it which was how Ignitus knew they were nearby. The sudden rise in energy also causes most beings to faint as they neared the city, especially if they were physically or mentally exhausted. They would find themselves awake in their homes, not knowing what happened to them or why it had happened. This sudden upsurge was the reason why Spyro blacked out. He was exhausted from the long flight and had been mentally drained for weeks due to Cynder's condition. Ignitus, being a Guardian, was able to withstand it and proceed through to the city. However, it had still taken its toll on him as he felt more exhausted than ever as he trudged through the streets with Spyro and Cynder in his arms.
As he walked through the streets, the evening crowds pointed and stared at him in amazement. They had only heard of Guardians through word of mouth and most did not even know whether there were still any Guardians left in the land, even though they were cared for by 3 of them. They had also never seen Spyro, the hero of the realm, and Cynder, the past dark master, in the flesh. Ignitus, aware that he was drawing attention, planned on flying to the spire but he was far too exhausted and could not be bothered to even lift his wings. He dragged his way through the streets, the citizens giving way either out of awe, or fear.
Eventually, he reached the steps of the spire. Sighing from the idea of having to climb, he started his slow ascent up the stairs. Being the Chronicler meant that he had to spend long hours in a comfortable position as he wrote and manifesting himself into the physical world always did take up a lot of his energy but, focused on the task at hand, he persevered and slowly climbed up the steps one at a time. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the crystal gates of the spire. He called out in an ancient language and the door swung open slowly. Relieved that he could finally give his weary body a rest, he walked into the spire slowly and deliberately.
The walls of the corridor had large tapestries depicting prominent scenes throughout the ages hanging from them with many doorways leading deeper into the spire. At the end of the long corridor, a large entrance to the throne room loomed, many times taller than Ignitus. He stepped through the carved doorway and was greeted by a dragon seated atop a throne. However, he did not look anything like the king he had remembered from years ago. The new king was a middle-aged dragon with black scales and purple wings; metal tips adorned his wings and tail. He had a look of distaste on his face when Ignitus stepped into the throne room carrying Spyro and Cynder.
"What's a deserter like you doing in my city?" Eratos spat, his eyes glinting with malevolence.
"I did not desert; I was merely carrying out my duty, My Lord." Ignitus replied, not fully trusting the new king.
Eratos looked distastefully at Spyro and Cynder's motionless bodies.
"You dare bring such filth into my throne room?" Eratos shouted angrily at Ignitus.
"But…"
"I don't want to hear your reasons. Leave this building, now!" Eratos decreed, his eyes full of paranoia and insanity.
"…Yes, My Lord." Ignitus replied quietly, not understanding the reasons behind the king's actions. He plodded out of the throne room, feeling disappointed. That was not the benevolent king of Lazarus. Instead, a paranoid fool had taken his place. However, Ignitus could not fathom the reason behind the new king's paranoia nor who he was. Lazarus had certainly changed from 15 years ago. As he walked down the corridor, he thought of how to break the news of not being able to help Cynder to Spyro. As he walked past the doorways feeling forlorn, a paw reached out from the darkness of one of the entrances and grabbed Ignitus, pulling him into the unknown.