The dragon in the cage was not a 'fire dragon'. He was an Artisan.
The dragon in the cage was not an 'it'. He was a he, and his name was Spyro.
He was not a 'treasure'; he was a son to the Realms, a brother to his soul-guide, Sparx, and he was different.
The strange creature working with the Theives kept him locked up. Called him 'it' and wouldn't let him speak. Last time he had tried, well. . . the collar binding around his neck had dug what felt like electrical claws into him.
He was scared.
He was . . .scared.
Delbin was surely looking for him by now. All the Elders must be, from the Peace Keepers to the Beast Makers, hellfire, even the Dream Weavers were probably coherently searching for him!
. . .but. . .would they know where to look?
Spyro got into trouble occasionally, most young dragons did, especially once they grow out of being a dragonlet. Being different also caused him to be more reckless and independant. And Spyro being the orphan didn't help matters. But this time, it wasn't his fault.
Blazing Egg Theives.
He doesn't remember much about what happened - he and Sparx had gone into the tunnels when the rain began, and decided to look for the Portal to Dragon Shores. He'd been about to go through when Sparx had chimed in fear, and then black stretched across his vision-
Then he woke up, bound and tied down in a cage, twisted little creatures jumping around and chittering mockingly at him as his tail whipped back and forth nervously. An Egg Theif watched him in silence, grinning eerily.
He must have been knocked out; sneaked upon. So, it really wasn't his fault.
But blame aside, the young dragon was worried about how he would be rescued. He could sense that he wasn't in the Dragon Realms - the Artisan Realm had the lowest magic saturation, and still felt normal. But this place - his scales crawled and buzzed the first two days, and then just felt chilled. It was like being at a higher altitude with less oxygen - you noticed the lack more than anything.
The bear (how he had been referred to that way seemed to be an indication of species), Moneybags, came down into the square-cut cave(?), carrying a platter of some sort. When the bear reached Spyro's cage, he opened the small door and slid the platter in with a look of disgust.
"Well, it's food I suppose," he wrinkled his snout. Moneybags looked at Spyro then, huffing, "I suppose I can keep the muzzle off for the time being - but if I see you open your mouth for anything other than eating then I'll zap you again."
The growled threat was more than enough for Spyro to lower his eyes in compliance. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was a prisoner - worse, actually, since Moneybags talked to him like he could be a trained Fodder-Beast or Gem-crafted creature.
Moneybags wasn't exactly gentle when he slipped off the metal band from Spyro's muzzle, but it wasn't all that rough either. When Moneybags turned to set it aside, he stretched his jaw gently.
The food was the same as the day before: a slab of raw mutton, drained and clean-cut. As much as Spyro likes mutton, he, like all dragons, actually preferred to roast his meat. Warm food settled much better in the stomach, as they said back home.
But he wasn't about to push it with Moneybags, so he choked it down without complaint.
While he was eating, Thief came in, grinning. "Bags! Thank you for your prompt payment. I didn't know you could get that many eggs in three days."
"Of course, of course; a bargain is a bargain, after all," Moneybags drawled back, leaning against the wall. "And you brought me such a nice surprise, after all." He flashed a grin towards Spyro, who cowered down in the cage.
Theif sniggered. "So? Plans, plans; any buyers yet?"
Moneybags let out a withering sigh. "I haven't put it on the market yet. I'm still deciding - would it be more valuable to sell a whole dragon, alive and intact? Or butcher it and sell the parts? There's so many out there who'd grasp up any hint of dragon magic."
Spyro felt his meal trying to come back up.
"Tch," Theif waved a scrawny black hand in dismissal. "Too easy, surely. Plus, with Ripto stirring up trouble surface-wide, it'd be easier to keep it in one piece, wouldn't it?"
Moneybags nodded. "Oh yes, I figured so." Spyro started breathing normally again. "For now I'll keep it until things cool down. I know there's quite a few worlds in Avalar that would just. . .leap for the chance to own such a magnificent prize. It's worth very much, after all," he sighed dreamily.
"But you'll be accepting other business as well?" Theif asked, suddenly focused.
A snort erupted from the bear. "Of course, what do you take me for? Now, I'm assuming the Guild has found some more things of value that you'd like me to look over?"
They started to go up the stairs, Theif's sniggers fading away. "Yes! Now. . ."
The room was now silent and empty. Spyro slumped down with a sigh. "Sparx?" He whispered, projecting it best as he could. "Can you hear me buddy?"
He lay silently for a moment, head tilted and eyes trained up. Suddenly, on top of a set of boxes, there was a glow.
Then, a chime.
Despite the predicament, Spyro smiled. "You're too far for me to hear anything, buddy, but glad to know you can hear me."
Another chime sounded, and something like a bleat. Spyro couldn't quite make out the words, but he could sense the feeling behind them.
"It'll be okay, Sparx," Spyro whispered, laying his head on his paws and feeling a little less alone. "Delbin or one of the others will come for us, you'll see."