Hello! The opening belongs to the rightful owners of Chrono Cross, but I thought it fit. Enjoy!
What was the start of all this?
When did the cogs of fate begin to turn?
Perhaps it is impossible to grasp that answer now,
From deep within the flow of time….
But, for a certainty, back then,
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves…..
Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies….
A gentle breeze of warmth blew upon the rolling waves of the sea, rhythmic, and constant. As if the very ocean herself was singing a lullaby to the creatures within her womb, breathing softly whilst they slept, dreaming the dreams of true dreamers.
Gulls cried, gliding on the wind as their shadows seemed to match the very dragons that ruled the skies. The wind caressed the ferns and palms, as if rousing them from slumber in the early dawn. Small fish began to pool within the shallows, and crabs began to venture upon the heated sands, leaving a trail in their wake as they searched for food.
The scuttling of a crab had awakened a purple drake resting upon the sands, belly to sand while his wings were fully outstretched, sunbathing. Slowly, lazily, amethyst irises was exposed as the dragon awoke. Yawning, Spyro looked upon the crab, now raising his head as he watched the movements of the gentle creature scurry about.
Shifting position, Spyro rose to his feet, shaking the sand off his scales. Looking around, Spyro had noticed that Cynder was no where near their sleeping nest-which the pair had made out of soft sand-and had destroyed and rebuilt numerous times in play. Spyro stretched, feeling awakened by the sun and beckons of the sea and her children.
To Spyro, this was paradise. He and Cynder did not have to worry about being in danger, did not have to worry about a greater evil, did not have to worry about the end of the world….nothing. It felt good to have nothing on the mind-though it was something Spyro found strange, for his mind constantly tried to think of something he could do-should do, such as getting back to Warfang and informing the Guardians that he and Cynder were alive at Ignitus' behest.
Spyro paused in thought at the former Fire Guardian. Ignitus would tell him that he needed to do what was right-that he couldn't hide from the world and would need to take responsibility. Yet at the same time….Spyro was just a child, and even though he had accomplished many feats and even defeated Malefor, Spyro himself admitted that he never did anything on his own, nor on his own accord. He had always been told what to do, and the thought of arriving in Warfang and being hailed as a hero or dragon of importance-being offered positions of perhaps political stature gain terrified the young dragon. Spyro did not consider himself a leader, nor did he feel ready to take on any more responsibility. In truth, Spyro just wanted to relive his childhood as a normal dragon, and the non stop days of play and adventure he and Cynder have partaken made him remember that not all life was serious.
Spyro looked upon the gently rolling sea with a sigh. They were far away from The Valley of Avalar, and even farther from Warfang. They did not know where to go, so the pair just kept flying east, and came upon a land of water. At first, the pair did not know what to expect, for they had never seen the sea and it's sandy beaches, and even if they saw the land in passing, they paid no heed, for there was simply no time. Now, however, it appeared all the pair had was time, and it allowed them to observe the beauties of nature they had overlooked without much thought.
"Soon, Ignitus. Soon I will go back to Warfang, but not now. I just want more time." Spyro whispered softly, feeling the sun heat up upon his scales, as his the Fire Guardian's spirit was reassuring the young dragon he understood.
Spyro smiled, and looked upon the sandy terrain to see the smaller tracks of Cynder, which he easily followed towards the shallow water.
Cynder sat within the shallows, allowing the warm water to lap at her scales and clean her, eyes lightly shut. Cynder did not even move. Spyro approached, about to speak, but upon getting closer realized Cynder was so still that the native that lived within the shallows as pooled around her, feeding, resting and chasing each other. They completely ignored the black dragoness, as if she was not there-or as if she were one of them.
Spyro settled upon watching the black wyrm, smiling at the serenity. It was so strange, yet beautiful. Cynder was only ever truly at peace with nature, and her more gentle side under her cynical attitude showed in moments like this.
However, the fish were disturbed, and fled in start, Cynder's eyes snapping open, "Hey-now why did you go and scare them?"
"I didn't, Cynder. I was standing here the whole time. Something else must have scared them." Spyro suggested, Cynder shaking her head, remaining quiet, tail now sloshing in the waters.
"I've been thinking-" Spyro broke off, pausing as he saw the sand beneath his talons shift in move, feeling vibrations in the loose earth. Looking around, he noticed the sands were shifting, the palms were swaying frantically-as if on the verge of snapping. Cynder got up, the once gentle rhythm of the sea now sloshing and rippling franticly.
On instinct, the pair launched into the skies for safety, Spyro leaving a trail of sand, while Cynder, a trail of water and mist.
"What's going on?! An earthquake?!" Cynder asked, the natural rumble of the earth causing her to speak louder, Spyro looking down upon the shaking land and sea.
"I think so. Maybe the world isn't done pulling itself back together?!" Spyro asked, realizing that there have been tremors every so often, though none had been this strong. The pair were startled as the very ocean surged forth, swallowing the beach and hitting the numerous ferns and palms.
The pair barely had noticed the quakes ceased as the waves receded deep into the ocean, the water building and birthing a monstrous wave that towered over the land. The dragons panicked, and flew upon the gales of the rushing wind, the roar of the wave blocking out all other noise. The wave collapsed upon the land, like a maw closing shut as it created a deafening noise, swallowing the land several miles inland, destroying inland lands.
Spyro and Cynder flew over the floods, looking upon the force of nature with horror and awe.
"We have to help!" Spyro replied, readying himself only to have Cynder beckon him back.
"No, Spyro. We have to go to Warfang."
"What? Why? We have no time, Cynder! People could be down there needing our help!"
"We can't save everyone, Spyro. The area is too large. Look around. We need help. We need to go back." She replied, Spyro looking upon the watered land and sighed sadly, eyes sullen.
"Alright. I'm sure The Guardians can help any people that are here." Spyro replied, listening to reason as he and Cynder made their way towards the city. Now, the ocean seemed like a place of hostility, and not the haven it had seemed to them just moments before.