Author's Note: A slower chapter this time, just to properly set up the Avalar arc and flesh out some interaction between characters (this one's gonna be brief, I swear). Now that I have some breathing room after the breakneck race that was the first arc, I believe it is time to adress something I have neglected so far, namely the reviews. Unfortunately, FFnet doesn't give the chance to directly reply to comments like AO3 does, so I spent far too much time trying to figure out how to do that before realizing that I can't. Amazing.

Anyway, as people have been posting reviews of this story I guess it's only fair to reply to them in order:

Anonymous Noob the 2nd: Lemon? Well, perhaps ;)

nivekgg: Thank you! I hope you'll keep reading until the end

Guest comment: Yes, it is. This is commonly referred to as foreshadowing :)

Author-san 9001: yeah, FF hides M stories. Should have thought of that, really. But thank you for your long comment, those are always appreciated!

nivekgg: it was not, in fact, a pretty way to go. Don't worry, he may be the first, but definitely not the last

Loki: thank you, I always try to flesh out the characters at the best of my abilities

Plague Doctor 2035: Thank you! I've enjoyed your stories, so that means a lot


Chapter 6: Avalar

The locomotive creeped through the tunnels, metal wheels screeching over rails. They travelled in the dark, the directional lanterns mounted at the front of the train illuminating their way only for a few dozen yards at best. There was nothing but darkness in front and behind.

Spyro blinked slowly. He had grown accustomed to the sound of pistons hammering in the background to the point that he could ignore it easily enough. Other things, however, could not be ignored.

He exhaled, then looked up.

"Three years?" His voice was faint, almost a whisper.

Across from him, leaning against the cab's wall, Hunter nodded gravely.

"I fear so. I apologize for the delay, but I had few clues on your location and travelling on foot has never been an easy task. Malefor's return and the ongoing war made it all the more difficult."

Spyro said nothing. He simply sat there, tail wrapped around his body, and let what the cheetah had just told him sink in fully.

Three years.

He, Cynder and Sparx had been encased in a crystal for three years. They had slept while the world burned and the Dark Master made his grand return.

If he had hoped to finally catch a break, even for a brief moment after their harrowing escape, Hunter's testimony had been like a shower of freezing-cold water.

"How . . . H-How did that happen? He was still in Convexity when I stopped Cynder the first time. He was still there, I'm sure!"

The cheetah shrugged, arms crossed over his chest. "I do not know the answer. I was still searching for you when the news finally reached me. I heard rumours about a bleeding wound opening in the night sky as the Eternal Night reached its peak, vomiting black fire upon the earth as the Dark Master regained his body. In truth, I think they're just rumours."

"They are not rumours," Zara spoke up. The fennec had been busy shovelling coal into the furnace. She stopped, leaning on the metal shovel. Her face darkened, exhaustion creeping in her eyes before she rubbed it off.

"I remember when it happened. The Crimson Lands were far, but we felt it anyway. We knew what was coming." She bit her lip. "Those among our clan with affinity to magic woke up screaming that night."

"The few sorcerers I met during my travels spoke of the same thing, yes," Hunter hummed. "Are you sure you don't want help with that? You are still injured."

"Only in my pride," Zara scoffed. She went back to work. Hunter sighed before turning his attention back to Spyro.

"It happened slowly at first, and then all at once. Kingdoms started picking sides; alliances turned into dead letter as neighbours tore into each other and settled old scores. Soon enough, whether you were with Malefor or Warfang was a matter hinging on who your old enemies sided with."

Hunter grimaced, shaking his head. "Sometimes it feels like the whole world had been waiting for that spark alone to finally burst into flames. That was three years ago, and we've been at war ever since. Victories have been few, and losses high."

Spyro nodded yet remained silent. He didn't trust himself to speak, not now, not after everything he had heard. A sickening feeling had settled into his stomach, heavy as a mountain, and it only grew.

'I should have been there. I should have done something. The Guardians counted on me; the whole world counted on the Purple Dragon, and now the Dark Master is back, stronger than ever. Am I too late? Did I come back just in time to watch as he burns down whatever is left?'

Spyro bit the inside of his cheek. The sudden flare of pain helped shake the torpor off him.

"I . . . I need to find Ignitus," he said. "He and the Guardians must know how to fix all of this. You said they were in Warfang, right?"

Hunter nodded. "The Golden City. It is the envy of the entire world and a safe haven for dragon-kind. The road to get there is treacherous though." The cheetah exhaled, shaking his head. "We might have to take a detour."

"A detour?"

"Never mind. It's early for that anyway, and we've got some road to cover in the meantime. How about you, young dragon? Are you feeling well?"

Spyro raised an eyebrow. "You mean after what happened back there? Honestly, not too bad given what happened the last time I wielded Aether. It's not something I look forward doing again though."

It was a lie, but only partially. Every single fibre of his very being burned with exhaustion. Adrenaline had helped push him through the fight, but it was gone now, leaving him to deal with the aftermath. Still, Spyro put on a brave face.

He lifted a foreleg before his muzzle and breathed out, tapping into his scarce Elemental reserves. A thin coating of frost gathered on his scales, and Spyro let out a snort. At least he still had his powers with him; the situation was hard enough as it was, and losing his Elemental mastery would have been a problem that he didn't need right now.

"The last time? You mean that has happened before?" Zara asked. The fennec was busy tapping at the engine's pressure gauge. "Sounds like you had quite an eventful life even before ending up in Jackai-Kul."

Spyro chuckled. "I guess you could say that. It's been a while since the last time me and Sparx managed to catch a break. Isn't that right, buddy?"

He waited a few moments for a reply, but none came.

"Sparx? You still there?"

"Uh? Oh sorry, I wasn't listening," the dragonfly replied. He got up from his resting place between Spyro's golden horns, a favourite spot of his since time immemorial, and began hovering by his side.

"Sparx, is everything alright?" Spyro asked, lips pursued in worry. "You've been unusually silent since . . . well, for a while actually."

The dragonfly shook his head. "I'm fine, just . . . you know, just tired after all the action. And I've got some thinking to do about this whole three-year thing. Mum and dad haven't heard from us in a long time. If I had to take a guess, that woman is gonna kill us for not writing her a single letter."

Sparx laughed at his own joke, or at least tried to. It was a forced laughter, and Spyro knew it, just as Sparx must have known he wasn't fooling him. He yawned, making a show of it.

"Anyway, mind if we resume this after I take a nap? I bet you could do with some rest too."

Spyro's eyebrows furrowed. One part of him wanted to press him on; there was something jittery in the way Sparx's eyes darted around. Something was bothering his brother, and he could feel it.

He exhaled. However, Sparx was right though, and rest felt like something he really needed right now. The boost the Soul Gem had granted him was waning by then, and Spyro was pretty sure that over-relying on those crystals was not healthy for him.

"Yeah, you've got a point. I guess we'll take it up later then. Hunter, you need help with something else?"

The cheetah shook his head. "Unless you happen to know how a train engine works, I think you'd better follow the advice of your dragonfly friend here. Me and Zara will make do in the meantime."

As if on cue, the fennec scoffed before shaking her head as well.

"Good luck with that. At least Remy seemed to have an idea on how all these contraptions actually worked. I'm actually scared of touching half of the levers here."

Spyro failed to suppress a wince. Mentioning the otter was enough for a vivid image of the last fight to flash across the dragon's mind, every single detail of those last moments coming into immediate focus. Remy had charged in with a knife, saved his life, and then the next moment he was gone; snuffed out like a candle.

"I know what you're thinking about."

Spyro blinked. Only then he noticed Hunter's paw on his shoulder. The cheetah's expression had softened.

"Do not chastise yourself for his death. There was nothing you could have done."

To the side, he noticed Zara nodding in agreement.

"I didn't know him personally," she admitted. "He was brave though, of that much I'm sure. Anyone willing to go against a magic-wielder with a knife is." She reached up with a paw, tapping her left and right temple in quick sequence, eyes closing as she muttered words too faint and foreign to understand.

"I'm confident his ancestors will welcome him back."

Spyro summoned just enough strength for a weak nod. He exited the cab shortly afterwards, as Hunter and Zara started going over a map of the tunnels they had snatched from somewhere. Or maybe Remy had; in truth he wasn't sure.

A wingbeat later, he had made his way past the coal car and found himself into one of the two open carts. A few crates laid open in the far corner, their contents spilled about, Hunter's own travelling bag laying nearby. His eyes were drawn however to someone else.

Cynder laid exactly where he had left her; snoring softly on a nest made up of blankets recovered from the train's old cargo.

Spyro smiled. The dragoness looked so peaceful; curled into a ball, her chest raised rhythmically. The ruby-red scales on her underbelly glinted softly under the lantern's light. For a moment, Spyro forgot about what he had seen back at the station, when the dragoness had cut her way through the rats like a possessed demon.

She was no demon though. If anything, she looked cute right now.

'Wait, did I just think that? I mean, she is kinda cute though.'

Spyro stopped in his track, then shook his head.

'Alright, consider yourself lucky, Spyro. You say that part aloud and you won't have to worry about the Dark Master anymore, cause she'll kill you first. You really should go to sleep.'

Slowly and quietly, Spyro began picking up some of the remaining blankets with his teeth, dragging them away to create his own improvised pallet. He gathered them some distance away from Cynder's own resting place; the dragoness probably wanted some privacy, and Spyro didn't wish to wake her up after their recent experience.

The end result may have haphazard and barely passable, but the Purple Dragon simply shrugged. He had slept on worst beds over the years. As he lay down and got ready to finally catch some sleep, he glanced Cynder's way one last time. To his surprise, the dragoness was fully awake; her emerald eyes blinked slowly as she studied him.

Spyro lifted his head from the makeshift pillow just a bit.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't want to wake you up."

The dragoness shook her head. "It's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Bad dreams?"

"Amongst other things, yes." Cynder glanced around. "Is Sparx here too, or . . ."

"He's back in the cab, trying to rest as well," Spyro explained. "I think he prefers to sleep there."

"Good," she simply said, laying back down. She did not go back to sleep though, and her eyes remained open, looking everywhere but at him.

"Remy's dead, isn't he?"

The question blindsided him. He looked up, blinking. Words failed to leave his muzzle.

"H-How . . . h-how do y-you-"

"I've looked around while you were talking with Hunter," she admitted. "I saw him nowhere. There weren't many conclusions to draw from that." She sighed.

"How did it happen?"

Spyro filled her in on what occurred after Baos had cast his spell on her. He decided to leave out some of the most gruesome details. Cynder listened to him intently yet stayed quiet for the entire time, her expression unreadable.

"I . . . I don't know how much you knew about Remy," Spyro eventually said. "Do you know if he had a family, or someone else we could-"

"No," she cut him off. "He didn't have any."

She said nothing else. The abruptness in her voice told him to drop the subject immediately.

Again, silence fell between them. The only sounds were the hissing and clanking of the moving train. Spyro shot a quick glance around, but he soon gave up even guessing on where they were headed. The tunnel's walls were a series of dirt-coloured canvases, repeating themselves over and over before his tired eyes.

"Are you alright?"

The Purple Dragon blinked as he glanced back. Cynder had risen from her cot and into a sitting position, tail wrapped around herself. He hesitated, then shrugged.

"More or less. Let's just say I've got quite a lot to think about."

"Do you-" Cynder's tone faltered but only briefly. "I-I mean, do you want to . . . talk? About it, I mean."

Spyro said nothing for a moment, merely arching an eyebrow at her request. Eventually he shrugged and got up, sitting up in his cot as well. He wasn't feeling very sleepy anyway; and who knew, maybe talking could actually do him some good.

"Well, where do I begin? Maybe from the fact that I had no idea what I was doing and trapped us in a crystal for three years. Or maybe that, while we were stuck there, Malefor made his return. Because yeah, that happened. He's back, and I don't mean it as a metaphor or something. He's got a full body now."

Across from him, Cynder widened her eyes, her body stiffening. For a moment Spyro thought she had stopped breathing. Even then, he didn't stop.

"So, while we were spending all that time in the Well of Souls doing our best impression of a statue, Malefor gathered whole armies under his command, then created a new whole species of henchmen, because why not, and finally went ahead and put an entire continent to the sword!"

Spyro paused. He realized he was no longer sitting in his cot and that had been pacing around instead. He grinded his teeth.

"And you want to know the best part?" Spyro continued, his voice hoarse. "I knew this was gonna happen. I was warned all of this would happen! But did I listen? Of course not!" He slammed his paw down, hard. Wood planks creaked under the impact.

Spyro shook his head, breathing slowly in an effort to calm himself down.

"I knew this would happen," he repeated. "The Chronicler warned me; about his return, about what Gaul was trying to do, about yo-"

He caught his tongue just in time. Spyro's eyes flicked to the side, almost guided by a will of their own. Cynder was still there, sitting in her cot; the black dragoness stared quizzically at him, an eyebrow raised. In the background, pistons creaked and hissed.

'Her entire life has been spent in shadow. She knows no other way. And when the Dark Master returns . . . she will concede.'

The Chronicler's words echoed in his mind; a piece of memory kept submerged for a long time, yet now finally resurfacing.

"Spyro?"

The young dragon shook his head.

'No, it's ridiculous. She tried to rescue you back there. Okay, maybe everything the Chronicler predicted came true, but he was wrong about her. I mean, yeah, her powers are still tied to the darkness and . . . wait, what the hell am I thinking?!'

"Spyro."

"Sorry, I went somewhere else for a moment. What I mean is, I am the Purple Dragon, right? The whole reason I exist was preventing Malefor from returning; defeat evil, save the world, all of that stuff. And this . . ." He waved a paw around.

"This is not a great start, is it? I could have done so much if I had been out there. So many were counting on the Purple Dragon, and I failed them."

"You should not blame yourself for what happened," Cynder said. "You did nothing."

"Yeah, that's kinda the problem though. I did nothing."

"I'm serious, Spyro. You may be the Purple Dragon, but that doesn't make you perfect, and you shouldn't strive to be it."

The dragoness paused, seemingly needing a moment to recollect her thoughts.

"Sometimes . . . sometimes it doesn't matter how hard we try or what we want; things just happen, and you have no choice but to push through. Dwelling on the past won't change it, and thinking on what could have been just means torturing yourself."

Spyro shook his head. "I can't just pretend nothing happened."

"And I didn't say you should," Cynder pointed out. "Keep your mind focused on the present. Think of what you can do now."

Spyro opened his muzzle, only to then think better of it. Across from him, the dragoness laid back down in her cot.

"I . . . I guess I can try, yeah," Spyro eventually said. "Thanks, Cynder."

She smiled, and genuinely at that. Her emerald eyes shimmered for a brief moment as their gazes locked together.

"Was there anything else bothering you?"

"Well, kinda," Spyro chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Though I doubt you could help with that. I just thought back to what Sparx said. Mum and dad will kill us for not writing them at least once in the last three years."

Cynder raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so you two are actual brothers?"

He nodded. "Yup. Nina and Flash took me in when I was still an egg. Believe it or not, there was a time I thought I was a dragonfly as well," he added with some amusement.

She rolled her eyes. "A big, fire-spitting and purple dragonfly? Now that sounds like something I'd like to hear about."

"Well, I guess I could share a story or two. There's no harm in that."

"Right now?" Cynder yawned. "Maybe later. I was about to get some sleep."

"Oh? Not even an embarrassing anecdote involving Spark?"

As if on cue, the dragoness's head shot up from her resting place.

"Tell me everything, right now."

He did, even if there were a few omissions. Sparx was still his brother after all, and Spyro didn't feel the need to be cruel by sharing everything.

Besides, he had full intention of keeping the best material for himself.


Train Sub-station Number Twelve was an abattoir. Entering it was akin to wading through an ocean of blood and spilled viscera. The pungent smell of Elemental magic still lingered.

Snalk had thought that the events of the past day had hardened him; spending long, interminable hours hacking his way through a Grublin horde, seeing friends and comrades being cut down and chewed on by the monsters. He thought it had rendered him indifferent to the slaughter. And in a way, it had.

The battle was over now though. Without the rush of fear and adrenaline, everything could now fully sink in. He had to stop several times already, fighting off an encroaching surge of nausea.

"Snalk, you there?"

The rat blinked, then shook his head. "Yeah. I just needed a moment."

Chuch nodded. "Right. On my mark. One, two . . . Three!"

With a groan of exertion, the rat body was hauled off the ground and onto a waiting cart. A few more had been already loaded. A quick glance around revealed they had done some good progress in the past hour.

"Right then. I think that's enough for one travel. Get going," Chuch said to the team of labourers. They began dragging the cart away.

Hissing, Chuch pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the trickling sweat off his face. He had tried to hide the stiffness in his right side, the injury suffered during the fighting still fresh. The rat had simply ignored it and carried on.

"Everything's alright, buddy?" he said.

Snalk shrugged. "It could have been us."

"What?"

"All this." He gestured around. Other rats were present, busying themselves with the cleaning up. A familiar stench permeated the air, burning through their nostrils. It was the smell of battle; sweat, blood, and feces.

"We were this close from joining them. And then someone else would have had to pick up our remains as well."

Chuch scoffed. "How about you cheer up a bit, uh? We are alive. I think there's plenty to celebrate here."

"We were lucky."

"Yeah, we were. And that's how it works. Sometimes you are lucky and live, and sometimes you don't."

He stuffed the handkerchief back into one of his pockets. "My suggestion? Don't think about it too much."

Snalk frowned yet remained silent. Maybe Chuch was right; thinking that it could have been him laying on the ground with his guts spilled everywhere was not going to change a thing.

Ultimately, they had been lucky. Just when they had been about to join the sorcerer in his endeavour to catch the Purple Dragon and the other intruders, a breathless runner had crossed their path and informed them that the Grublins were on the verge of penetrating one of the main halls and, from there, reaching the habitation hubs.

Many of Snalk's comrades had family there, so the decision was made on the spot. It saved them from the massacre that had occurred in Sub-Station Number Twelve.

"I heard some rumours floating around," Chuch eventually said at length. "Apparently, the Terror of the Skies was there."

"You're kidding me. I thought the old commander was dead."

Chuch shook his head. "Clearly, she isn't. Even worse, she is with the Purple Dragon now. These poor bastards never stood a chance against her."

His eyes drifted just past him, narrowing as they settled on one of the bodies; unlike the others, it had been covered with a sheet. Chuch spat on the ground.

"Fucking sorcerers," he growled. "That's why you should never let them lead anything. All those fancy powers and they can't use their brains for shit. They can get a lot of people killed in the process though. What a disgrace."

Snalk nodded. He knew what his friend was referring to, and he couldn't bring himself to disagree with him. The rats that Baos had conscripted in his efforts were mostly militia; part-time soldiers trained to defend their homes, but little else. Enthusiast perhaps, but inexperienced. Instead of taking advantage of the countless secondary tunnels snaking their way throughout Jachai-Kul, they had charged down a single entrance and got promptly massacred.

Footsteps echoed behind, and Chuch spat a curse under his breath. Snalk turned around and his heart stopped for an instant. Elder Agzot himself had just enter the sub-station. The older rat was surrounded by his own retinue of bodyguards and scribes, the group sticking so close to their Elder that one may have mistaken them for an extension of his own body.

That part was lost on Snalk however, for Agzot seemed to be headed straight for the two of them, each step taken with purpose. He had only a brief moment to dust himself off in an attempt to look presentable, for when he looked up the Elder had come to a stop before him, together with the rest of his retinue.

Snalk dipped his head respectfully, Chuch mirroring the gesture by his side.

"Elder," they said, nearly in unison. Agzot studied them, paws behind his back. Then, he spoke.

"How many?"

It didn't take a genius to know what he was referring to.

"We only have a rough count," Snalk said, his tail twitching behind. "Around forty dead, plus an unknown number of wounded."

Elder Agzot said nothing. His amber-coloured eyes narrowed to slits. Snalk could have sworn he heard the rat grinding his teeth.

"Where is Baos?"

His voice was a whisper yet felt sharp as a blade. Snalk swallowed. Chuch moved from his side, walking over to the covered form and pulling away the sheet just a little. Snalk made an effort to look away from the sorcerer's remains.

Many amongst the retinue winced back and hissed in shock. A few stepped away as they covered their muzzles, fighting against an encroaching wave of nausea. At least one lost that fight, and loudly at that.

Elder Agzot was the only one that did not react. His features were like stone as he gazed upon what remained of Baos, the runes etched into his robes acting as the only available identification. Snalk knew that; he had recognized the symbols when coming upon the body.

"Lunt."

A young-looking scribe amidst the retinue looked up from his roll of parchment.

"Y-Yes, my Elder?" He meekly answered. His ears flicked, and he adjusted the pair of glasses perched on top of his nose.

"Have the remains fetched to my personal lab. Once more pressing matters have been addressed, I'll get to work on them."

Lunt blinked in confusion. "My Elder, he . . . he is dead."

"Oh, I wish he was." The faintest hint of amusement danced in his eyes before being snuffed out.

"As for you two," Agzot began, scratching his lower jaw as he turned his attention back to Snalk. "You are from Captain Mournsnout's company, yes?"

"Yessir, we are," Chuch quickly said. Snalk limited to a nod.

"Excellent. Would you please go and fetch your captain, then? I require an honour guard, and my usual retinue alone just won't do for this special occasion."

"Of course, my Elder." Snalk made to move but then paused. "May I ask what's the occasion?"

Elder Agzot frowned, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"We're heading northward. The Dark Master himself has summoned us for a war council, and we'll take the chance to demand reparations for the fact that his freaks broke into our Warren. Needless to say, I expect you all to look professional and act accordingly."

It took some time for Snalk's mind to fully process the implication behind that statement. His tail went rigid behind.

'Fuck.'


Cynder's wings went still. The dragoness let out a content sigh and closed her eyes, letting the cool wind from the west carry her.

Few things could compare to the feeling of air brushing against her leathery wings, as the dragoness hung high above the ground. Maybe it was just her natural affinity to Wind that let her enjoy such peaceful moments.

Either way, flying helped clear her mind. Just like everything else, her worries shrunk to the side of ants when she soared high into the air. And Ancestors alone knew she had many.

First of all, the Chronicler. Spyro knew who he was, which was good. Admittedly, she had feared for a moment that Malefor was playing trick on her again. It was not something she would put past him. Still, that left more question than answer.

Who was he? Why had he told her to head for Warfang? Meeting other dragons was not something she looked forward to, especially once they realized she had effectively waged a genocidal war against them in Malefor's name.

Her teeth grinded against one another.

Malefor.

That name alone was enough to cause a wave of emotions to slam against her. Fear; shame; and above all else, hatred. Sheer, omnipresent, overwhelming hatred.

Cynder let out a sigh. Her emerald eyes blinked open.

Below, forests dotted the landscape like great splotches of dark green ink on a canvas. To the east, grey clouds loomed heavy over a mountain chain. The sky was pale, the air crisp. Another downpour would be coming soon.

'Fun's over.'

Black wings folded, and the dragoness launched herself into a steep dive, quickly gathering speed. Instincts kicked in a few moments later; she flared her wings open as she angled her body and curved her descent. The dive turned into a well-controlled landing spiral towards one of the many patches of woods.

Cynder sunk into the canopy of multicoloured leaves, dodged a couple of thick branches in her path, and soon enough she was back on the ground. Her claws touched the earth, Wind shifting the currents around her so to make the landing utterly silent.

Or so she thought.

"Did you see anything noteworthy up there?"

Spyro whipped his head behind in surprise. By his side, Sparx let out a high-pitched screech at her sudden appearance. The dragonfly dashed behind his bigger brother.

"Oh sorry, Cynder. I didn't hear you coming."

Spyro's tone was apologetic. Sparx's less so.

"What the hell?! Why did you do that?" the dragonfly protested, trying to regain his composure. As amusing as his reaction was, Cynder turned her attention to the one who had revealed her presence. Hunter sat down against a tree, running a paw along his bow's string, testing it.

The cheetah must have sensed her approach somehow. He had not even looked at her. Still, that was a question for another time.

"Not much. Just enjoyed the chance to stretch my wings," Cynder answered. "I didn't catch sight of anyone pursuing us. It might rain soon though, so we can count on that to cover our tracks."

The cheetah nodded.

They had left behind the underground tunnels some hours before. Admittedly, the first impact back on the surface had not been all that pleasant, as they had been caught in the middle of a drizzle. It did not matter; she and Spyro had been simply grateful to finally breath some fresh air.

"Do you think they will come after us?" Spyro asked.

"They first need to narrow down where the train stopped to begin with. Any pursuing party will need time to catch up," Cynder said. "We should be safe for now."

"Indeed." Hunter looked up from his bow, a frown etched onto his features. "Yet, I found all of this concerning."

Spyro arched an eyebrow. "How so?"

"We are now very close to the valley of Avalar. The rats of Jachai-Kul have built underground tunnels and a station that deposited us basically at the valley's doorstep." His face darkened. "I don't like the implication behind that."

"The station was empty though," Cynder pointed out. That had been a surprise; she was fully expecting a fight once the train had grounded to a halt, yet there had been not one rat in sight.

"Yes, and it was also dug only recently. The fact that it was empty doesn't mean the rats don't use it."

Cynder nodded. She could see the logic behind that.

"So, what now?" Sparx inquired. Hunter rose to his feet, adjusting the bow over his shoulder.

"Cutting through Avalar will save us a long travel and further encounters with the Dark Master's cronies. We wait until Zara is back from her scouting and then we head to Greenvale."

"What's that?" Spyro asked.

"The cheetah tribes don't like outsiders very much. Still, they have allowed a small settlement in one of the valley's northern entrances, as a trading post. I know a few there, so we can rest for the night while I send a message to Chief Prowlus."

Hunter hesitated. "He is a bit . . . uh, headstrong, so to speak. Still, I'm confident that with enough notice, I should be able to negotiate for our passage."

"Sounds like a lot of waiting," Spyro mused. "Can't we just fly over the mountains or something? We are dragons."

"We are dragons, Spyro," Cynder corrected him. She tilted her head in Hunter's direction. "Besides, at that altitude wind currents can turn violent on a whim. And I don't think Sparx here would handle it."

"I'm sorry, what?!" Sparx piped up. "I'll have you know that I . . . I can . . ."

His eyes drifted toward the mountain chain looming in the distance, the peaks covered by thick cloud towers. He gulped.

"Y-You know what, I think we should listen to her. J-Just this once I mean," he quickly corrected himself, but not before throwing a dirty look her way. Cynder could not -and would not- hide her grin.

Leaves rustled behind them. Cynder's body tensed up, a gesture imitated by Spyro as he caught the sound too. They both relaxed as Zara emerged from behind a tree and back into view.

The fennec ignored both of them, her eyes darting immediately for Hunter.

"We have a problem." Without another word, she beckoned Hunter to follow her. The cheetah raised an eyebrow for a moment, but then quickly got back to his feet and obliged.

"So, uh, you think we should go with them?" Spyro asked after a few moments. Cynder shrugged.

"Might as well."

The two dragons moved quickly to join them in their hike through the woods, Sparx trailing behind. Soon enough, the ground rose into a steady incline; Zara led them on and upward, never slowing down.

"How's your injury holding up?" Zara suddenly spoke up.

"Better. I can ignore the pain now," he answered. "Do you plan on telling me where we are actually going?"

The fennec shook her head. "It's better if I just show it you."

"Oh yeah, that's a great idea. Let's all take a stroll up a hill for no reason," Sparx complained somewhere behind. Cynder heard Spyro let out a snort.

"How's that you are the one complaining, Sparx? You don't even have legs!"

"So what? I can get tired too, you know."

"Yet you still haven't tired of talking," Cynder deadpanned. "How curious."

A quick glance over her shoulder revealed a smirking Spyro and a thoroughly irritated dragonfly, glowering at her. Her amusement faded away once they reached the hilltop.

The landscape changed before them. The trees grew scarcer, until they were replaced by grassland, which then turned into rolling farmlands further away. The seemingly impenetrable mountain chain behind opened wide before them, revealing the entrance to the valley of Avalar. A small stream snaked its way inside.

And sitting precisely at the entrance of the valley, was Greenvale. Clouds of grey smoke hung above the houses and their chimneys. By Cynder's side, Hunter sucked in breath through clenched teeth.

"No . . ."

The dragoness blinked, then understanding finally dawned on her. The village was smouldering; the smoke was not coming from the chimneys.

She shot a glance to the side. Hunter stood there, completely immobile. Even then, Cynder could have sworn the cheetah was grinding his teeth together. His free paw was clenched, squeezed into a tight fist.

"Hunter?" Zara began. "I'm so sor-"

"No," he hissed. "Not now."

Hunter reached up with a paw, adjusting the quiver on his back.

"Let's go. Someone must be alive down there."

His voice was akin to a whisper. He waited for none of them before beginning his descent down the hill and toward Greenvale. After a few moments, Zara sighed and fell in behind.

"How . . . I mean . . ." Spyro swallowed, hard. "How bad do you think it is?"

Cynder said nothing. She wanted to choose her next words very carefully; the razing and pillaging of a village was something she was intimately familiar with. After all, she had led many of such endeavours in the past.

Eventually, Spyro shook his head. "Alright, let's go."

"W-Wait, what? You want to go down there?" Sparx asked in astonishment.

"You heard Hunter. Maybe there's still someone we can help." He glanced Cynder's way, as if waiting for her answer. After some hesitation, the dragoness nodded, silently. The trio began their descent down the hill.


The first bodies they came across belonged to Grublins; they laid scattered along the village's outer limit, pierced by arrows and heavier darts. There was no blood, but a strange, dense liquid that had yet to dry. The dead Grublins grew in density as the trio drew closer.

Greenvale sported a palisade wall erected on top of a stone glacis, together with a few wooden towers. One of them had crashed down into the defensive ditch; it was now nothing more than a pile of smouldering and blackened wood. As for the village main entrance, it was simply gone. Spyro and Cynder had to walk around the small crater laying where the gate used to be.

"Do you smell it too?"

Spyro shot Cynder a puzzled look. The dragoness gestured at the crater, then tapped her nose.

"Sorcery," she said. "It's faint by now, but you can definitely smell it. It can't be older than a day."

Spyro simply nodded. He trusted Cynder knew what she was talking about.

The rest of the bodies lay beyond the entrance. There were dead Grublins as well, but those were by far the minority. Cheetahs; deer; canines; felines; even a few moles. They all laid there; some with weapons by their side, but most of them without.

Spyro try to swallow, but the reek of decomposing flesh was overwhelming, all-encompassing. He could almost taste metal in his mouth. And of course, there was the buzzing. Swarm of flies had descended on the carnage to feast on the rotting bodies. Ash from the blackened structures crunched under their paws.

Greenvale was a village no longer. It was a graveyard, a burning ruin.

"Why would anyone do this?" Spyro whispered. By his side, Sparx had grown eerily quiet.

"A lot of reasons," Cynder commented. "Usually for loot. Trading villages make for good target if you're not afraid of taking a few losses. Still, this looks a little too deliberate for my liking. Once the raiders got past the gate, the affair must have been quick and brutal."

Her voice was detached, almost cold, as she spoke matter-of-factly about the annihilation of an entire community.

'It's almost as if she has seen this before . . .'

Eventually, they came across Hunter and Zara. The cheetah was crouched over the body of another fallen defender, a cheetah as well. Zara simply stood silently by his side, arms crossed over her chest.

"Did you know him?" she exhaled. Hunter shook his head.

"Too young. I recognize the tattoo on the right leg though. The Crazy Wings. The tribe comes here occasionally for trade and other matters."

Hunter looked up, then to the side. "I knew her though."

Spyro followed his gaze until his own eyes fell on the ransacked remains of what looked like a general store. A doe laid slumped by the entrance amidst broken glass and timber. Her once white apron was now a dark red; an axe was in her lap, snapped in half, the doe still clutching the handle.

"Artys was the closest thing Greenvale had to a mayor. I used to stop here to buy supplies for my travels and she agreed to pass the news I brought to Chief Prowlus. I believe she was hitting on me half the time."

The doe's glassy eyes stared at them, her features locked into one last terrified expression. For a moment, Hunter sighed. His shoulder slumped, and exhaustion washed over his face. It was temporary.

"She didn't deserve this. None of them did," he hissed through clenched teeth. A dangerous edge had creeped into his voice. His fists tightened, shaking with quiet rage.

Spyro couldn't hide his surprise. Up to now, the cheetah had barely expressed any emotion at all, aside from the brief moment during their escape. But now his usual stoic demeanour cracked under the encroaching wave of anger and pain, letting them all catch glimpse of what laid behind the mask.

Zara placed a paw on his shoulder. She said nothing, for no word was necessary. The cheetah's breathing slowed down, and a few moments later it was back to normal. Hunter waited a little more before turning to Zara and giving her a grateful nod. Only then he seemed to notice Cynder, Sparx, and Spyro.

"My apologies, young dragon. This-" he gestured around. "This is not how I wanted your first impression of Avalar to be."

Spyro shook his head. "No need. You couldn't have known about . . . well, all of this. I'm so sorry."

His gaze turned away, lingering for a moment towards the line of burned homes along the main thoroughfare, together with the black shapes laying nearby. His mind refused to acknowledge that a few were too small to belong to any adult.

"It's just . . . what happened here? Why do any of this?"

"The war has come to Avalar," Hunter said gravely. "And unfortunately, much sooner than I expected. The followers of the Dark Master don't shy away from showing their handiwork."

"So the Grublins did this?" Hunter shook his head.

"Grublins are always a nuisance, but the palisade was enough to keep them out. No, this was organized, but I can't say by whom for certain. The Dark Master lend his creations to many."

"You think it was the Crimson Blades?" Cynder suddenly spoke up.

"How do you know about them?" Hunter asked.

"Me and Remy met their leader during our escape. We fought for a while, then Spyro launched a fireball at him."

Spyro moved to interject, but then noticed Hunter's face lightening up in brief amusement.

"You wake up from your slumber and immediately try and take on one of Malefor's most dangerous commander? You are full of surprises, young dragon." Eventually, he shook his head.

"I doubt it was them. The Crimson Blades like to get creative with their enemies' corpses. Besides, last time I heard about them they were still sieging Coral."

Sparx screamed. Without a moment of hesitation, they all moved to form a defensive circle, Hunter nocking an arrow with frightening speed just as Zara readied her spear. Cynder lowered herself into a fighting stance, and Spyro felt burning fire building up in the back of his throat.

Their muscles tense and taunt like a veritable bowstring, they studied their surroundings fully expecting an unseen foe to assail them at any moment. Yet seconds passed, and nothing happened.

Spyro glanced down, finding to his surprise a shaking Sparx hiding behind his left foreleg.

"Sparx?"

"F-F-Falcon!" he shrieked, gesturing up.

A quick glance above revealed that Sparx had been right. There was indeed a falcon circling lazily above their heads, its brown feathers rustling with each wingbeat.

"Seriously? A falcon?!" Cynder scowled. "I thought we were in actual danger."

"I am in danger! That thing is here to eat me! Spyro, do your brother a solid and roast that chicken!"

"Don't hurt him," Hunter cut in as he placed the arrow back in his quiver. "He is here to help."

"He's here to help himself of some dragonfly, that's what he's doing!"

Hunter shook his head.

"Observe," he said. He brought up his paws to his muzzle and let out a soft whistle, almost a brief melody. As if on cue, the falcon stalled and then swung down, landing on Hunter's stretched arm and folding his wings. Sparx let out another yelp as he tried to disappear behind Spyro's foreleg.

"Uh. Now I see why you wear those leather vambraces," Zara noted. "Must be painful otherwise."

"It was painful the first couple of times, yes," Hunter said. "Artys had erected a few poles for them in her backyard. I'm glad they managed to escape what happened here."

He reached up with a paw, scratching the falcon's head, before pulling out something from his own satchel and flipping it into the air. The falcon lunged at the piece of dried meat without hesitation and swallowed whole.

"You have nothing to fear, Sparx," Hunter said.

"Oh, that's just perfect. You don't mind if I remain here until he leaves then, do you?" He peeked at the falcon from behind Spyro's foreleg, glaring at him.

"My friend," Hunter intoned. The falcon stopped eating and stared at him, unblinking.

"I need you to deliver a message to Warfang. Tell the Guardians that the enemy has penetrated into the valley of Avalar. And tell Ignitus that I found them, and that we are coming."

"Wait," Spyro said, stepping forward. "If you are going to Ignitus, could you tell him that I-"

He never got the chance to finish. The falcon blinked one final time and shot up into the air, quick as a dart. Soon, he was nothing more than a disappearing dot moving southward.

"My apologies, young dragon, but it's best if the message is brief."

"Are you sure he even understood what you were saying?" Cynder raised a sceptical brow. "He didn't look too smart to me."

Hunter nodded. "He did, and he is. I have full confidence he will deliver the message."

"But . . . how?" Spyro asked.

"Druidic magic."

Spyro glanced to the side to find a grinning Zara.

"That's what it was, am I wrong?" Hunter said nothing, and the fennec's grin only grew. "You are full of surprises, Hunter of Avalar."

The cheetah shrugged. "The secrets of my tribe belong to them, and them alone."

"Fair enough," she nodded. She shot one last glance around, the smile waning as she barred her teeth.

"What do we do now?" Spyro asked.

"Passing through Avalar remains our best option to reach Warfang as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, now I'll have to petition Chief Prowlus directly and then . . ."

Hunter sighed, shaking his head. "Let's put it this way, it's not something I'm looking forward to. There's a reason me and the chief always dealt with each other through intermediaries."

"Sounds like we should avoid him entirely and simply sneak our way through the valley," Cynder pointed out. "There's only four of us, so it should be easy enough."

"No, it's out of the question. Besides, it would be extremely dangerous," Hunter stated. Cynder shot him an unconvinced glance.

"The last time someone intruded in our lands, dad had them nailed to the cliffs," Zara commented. She frowned. "Then again, they were probably bandits anyway."

"Right. I forgot that Mojiz can get ugly when he wants to."

"We can get ugly as well," Cynder growled. Her emerald eyes glinted, though there was something malevolent in them.

"I'm sure there is no need for that," Spyro cut in. "If Hunter says he can guarantee our passage, then we should follow his plan."

"And what if they don't grant us passage? In fact, what if they decide they don't like us being here at all?" The dragoness shook her head. "Talking alone won't protect us from arrows and spear."

Spyro shrugged. "It is still worth a try. There's no need to resort to violence now."

The dragoness didn't look any more convinced than before. In fact, her frown had only deepened.

"Let's hope you are right."

Hunter cleared his throat shortly afterward.

"We have only a few hours of light. Let's make what progress we can and then stop for the night."


They set up camp further into the valley. The sun had already sunk behind the horizon by then, and the Twin Moons had begun their climb through the night sky, amidst countless glinting dots of light.

Zara collected twigs and stones to set up a proper fireplace, before taking a step back and letting Spyro ignite it. Soon, the crackling of burning wood filled the air. Hunter sat down, opened up his satchel and frowned the moment his eyes examined its content.

"Our supplies are lower than expected," he said.

Nevertheless, he shared what little food was available with the others. Spyro gave a try to some of that hardtack the cheetah had brough with him; the experience was akin to cracking a rock open with his teeth alone. The taste was slightly better than actual bedrock.

"I was hoping to restock back in Greenvale, but now we have no other choice to reach my old village. Otherwise, we'll have no food in a couple of days."

"You have never spoken of your village before. How much do you remember about it?" Zara piped up. The fennec sat down across from him, the flames before the two waning to a smoulder.

Hunter chuckled. "Oh, I remember a lot, I can assure you. When I was younger, me and my friends would go to adventures into the valley and return only when the sun was down. The village's elders were never pleased to ear that, but they tolerated it."

Zara grinned, then rolled her eyes. "I know what you mean. I think dad was glad that I started to follow mum in her travels; that way he didn't have to worry about keeping an eye on me."

Then, she frowned. "By the way, do you have waterfalls in the valley?"

"There are some. Why, you've never seen one?"

"Of course, I have! I travelled around, remember?" Zara crossed her arms, frowning. "I like them though. Most of the water in the Crimson Lands is underground. You never get to see an actual waterfall."

"Well, I think you are in luck then," Hunter said with a smile. "There's one not far from my village. Some say it changes colour once every summer due to an ancient spirit living there. As far as I can remember, the legend goes something like this . . ."

Spyro stopped listening after a while. The two went on talking well into the night, sharing memories of their homes and childhood. Eventually, the young dragon excused himself and got up; as much as he didn't like to admit it, the subject matter was unearthing memories about his and Sparx's family, back at in the swamp. Despite the clear difference in size, Nina and Flash were the only family he had ever known.

'Ancestors, please, keep them safe, whenever they are.'

He found Sparx sitting on a low-hanging branch from a nearby tree. The dragonfly stared silently at something in the distance, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't notice Spyro settling down right beneath him.

"Something on your mind, Sparx?"

The dragonfly nearly jumped in surprise.

"Oh for the love of-" he began. "Alright, can you guys please stop doing that? It's the third time! My heart can't handle it."

Spyro grinned with some embarrassment. "Sorry. You seemed a bit distracted as of late. And much quieter than usual."

The dragonfly scoffed, his eyes turning into a glare as they shifted towards Cynder; the dragoness laid by the smouldering campfire, resting.

"I'm sure someone already pointed out, didn't she?"

"Sparx, I am serious."

"Look, I honestly don't know what to tell you. We're literally traveling with her, and we've just come upon a village that has been thoroughly relegated to the past tense at sword's point. Also, we're hoping that Hunter's fellow cheetahs don't decide to use us as target practise. How am I supposed to react to all that?"

"Well, I . . ." Spyro began, but found no words coming out of his muzzle. He couldn't find himself to really disagree with Sparx.

"Yeah, exactly. You are a dragon, buddy. There is barely anything that can hurt you and not get blasted away in retaliation in four different ways." He paused. "Okay, sometimes it's five, but you get my point. You can charge in anywhere knowing that you can take a hit and bash back twice as hard; meanwhile, I try to do something and the only thing I achieve is getting Remy killed."

Spyro raised an eyebrow. "Sparx?"

The dragonfly remained silent for a few moments. Spyro glanced up and found him frowning, as if he wanted to chastise himself for letting that slip. He shook his head.

"There, I said it. Remy is dead because of me. I . . ." Another pause. "I came up with the idea. I saw you crumbling on the ground when that rat did something with his staff. I heard you scream in pain, Spyro. As in, actual pain." He wrapped his arms around himself.

"So, I decided to do something. The other two weren't in great shape, so I told Remy I could cause a distraction and that maybe he could hit him from behind. H-He agreed and, well . . . I-I think we both know how it went." His voice trembled one last time, and then he fell silent.

"Anyway, sorry to bother you with all this- Spyro, what are you doing?"

The Purple Dragon had gotten up while he was talking, picking carefully the smaller dragonfly with his claws and depositing it right at the tip of his muzzle.

"Alright Sparx, listen," Spyro began, the two now speaking eye-to-eye. "I think we both know that I'm not good with this whole talking thing. I'm more likely to say something stupid than anything." That got a weak grin out of Sparx.

"What I'm trying to say is, do not ever think I don't care about you. If there's something, anything bothering you, I'm always here. I may not be able to help you, but I still here to listen to you. That's the least I can do."

"Well, that's . . . that's nice, actually," Sparx muttered, his smile growing just a bit.

"We are brothers, remember? We stick together, no matter what."

"Yeah. And I guess somebody here has to keep you out of troubles. I'm the older brother, after all."

Spyro snickered, his movements nearly causing Sparx to loos his balance on the dragon's muzzle.

"It's a good thing you are the smart one between the two of us."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sparx said. The dragonfly's wings buzzed as he rose in the air. "Well, I guess we should get back to the others. Come on, let's- who's that guy?"

It didn't take long for Spyro to understand what Sparx was referring to. A cheetah had just stepped into the clearing. As a pair of loaded springs, Zara and Cynder jumped up from their place near the fire, readying themselves for a fight either with spear or claws. Spyro dashed to their side without hesitation.

Only Hunter showed little to none worry about the newcomer. He came to a stop some distance away; Spyro had trouble discerning his features through the darkness. One thing was certain though, there was a bow poking over his shoulder.

"Hunter."

"Cos."

"Long time no see," the cheetah said. "You should come visit more often."

Hunter nodded. "I should. I've been busy though."

"I can see that." Cos glanced to each in turn. Zara looked as if she was about to drive a spear through his throat any time now. Cynder held herself into a low combat stance, wings flared and tail at the ready.

Finally, his gaze settled on Spyro. His brown eyes glistened in the penumbra.

"Is he who I think he is?" Cos asked.

Hunter nodded a second time. "I was planning on petitioning Chief Prowlus for passage."

"He really doesn't want to see you right now."

Hunter frowned. He rose slowly to his feet, until he stood at his full height, arms crossed on his chest.

"I'm still a member of the tribe, whether he likes it or not," the cheetah growled. "I have the right to petition him."

"I never said you weren't."

"Is that so?" Hunter gestured around. "Did you bring the others along just to watch then?"

Spyro tensed up, his eyes darting around. He could have sworn one of the bushes lining the clearing had just moved.

Cos stiffened visibly yet did not shift from his place. He was in fact very still.

"You have chosen a bad time to return to Avalar, Hunter."

The bushes definitely moved this time.


Well, that did escalate quickly, didn't it? I wonder what is going on in this once-peaceful valley

Anyway, I want to extend my thanks to all of those of you who fav, follow, commented, or just decided to gave a chance to this weird fic. There wouldn't have been a story at all without you, so thank you.