It was unavoidable. Undeniable.
Spyro hated to admit it, even with all the evidence mounted against him, but even with his draconic pride, he could deny it no longer:
He was lost.
Well, to be lost meant that he originally had an idea of where he was to begin with and then lost his way. In this case, he never had the idea to begin with.
The dragon was currently sitting in a barren glade of the dark forest, feasting on the carcass of a boar-like creature that he had found and killed with little issue; for all its armor, tusks, and sheer ferocity, it had been a relatively-easy kill. He tore a chunk of bloody, fat-rich flesh out of the creature's side, snapping the morsel down. The meat was juicy and had a nice kick of heat to it, but right now he was far too upset to enjoy the taste, eating more out of frustration than actual hunger.
Hours…he had been wondering about these accursed mountains for hours. He, of a species legendary for their unparalleled homing instincts, capable of navigating all of Nimh with only his memory and could tell the direction of the compass with his eyes closed, was lost. This realm's magnetic line was completely messed up, making it nearly impossible to tell which direction he was going; were it not for the position of the black sun, he'd be flying around in circles…and even that was untrustworthy, as nothing said that the sun rose in the east and set in the west in this world.
He snarled under his breath; what a fine time to be separated from Zoe. His fairy familiar would've known what to do at this point. She always knew where they were, what was going on, and what to do.
Though on the other hand, he was glad she wasn't here; that she wasn't bound to this wretched realm as he was, safe and sound back home.
Though probably worried sick about him…they all were, no doubt.
He pushed those thoughts aside before he became lost in them, settling for pushing the carcass away, his appetite now completely gone. He then spread his wings and took to the skies once more, kicking up a cloud of dirt and leaves in his wake; no sooner had the last of his tail left the clearing was his leftovers set upon by a swarm of scavengers, ranging from foxes to crows, albeit demonic-looking counterparts of earthly animals, tearing into the flesh of the dead boar like a school of ravenous piranha. Spyro ignored the borderline-hellish scene he left behind and settled for a simple glide just above the tree-line, looking for a source of water to wash his meal down with.
Hellish…the more he made the comparison, the more he felt the pieces falling naturally into place.
The more he studied the landscape and saw the obviously-demonic influences over it and its lifeforms, the more it was starting to become clear…despite all the factors that said it was not the case: despite all the pieces that didn't fit with the others.
This realm…it was supposed to be Hell. The Realm of Damnation. The final resting place of the wicked and the unworthy. Where all of those who did not fear the lord would spend the rest of eternity after death. Everything seemed to point to that being the case: the giant pentagram in the sky, the clearly demonic energies radiating off of the very land, the monstrous appearances of the flora and fauna alike, the noticeable heat, the sense of existential dread gnawing at the back of his mind…and that dark, twisted human that he had encountered when he first landed here…
All of it seemed to confirm that this was, indeed, the Realm of Damnation.
But it couldn't have been…because he had seen that realm before, and it was far worse than this.
The sound of rushing water drew his attention downwards, and he spotted a large gap in the trees, within which a large river was running down the side of the mountain. He warbled with approval before gliding down to the riverbank, landing on all fours with a light thud before stepping to the edge. A quick sniff of the air told him that the water was neither too hot to drink or full of poison; something he honestly expected from this dark realm, especially given the dark-red color of the water. It almost looked like blood.
He flicked his forked tongue out, lapping up a small bit of the water into his mouth. To his surprise, he actually found the water to be pleasant; cold and crisp, just like fresh mountain spring water, and he drank greedily from it. The cool water was just what he needed to wash down the last bits of boar meat.
And that just proved it even further: the fact that he was able to find even the simplest of comfort in this land, such as a cool drink of water, was proof that this couldn't possibly be the Realm of Damnation. Said damnation was absolute, with the suffering and torment of the Land of the Damned forever crushing and unshakable. The fact that not only was he not in constant agony from eternal torture by demons, but also the fact he was actually feeling a sense of being comfortable at all was proof that this couldn't possibly be Hell.
Hell did not allow even the slightest of comforts to its victims: not even the memories of a better life would provide any form of escape during one's eternal punishment.
He had seen Hell before. He had seen the Valley of the Shadow of Death with his own eyes more than once. Heard the forever-ignored screams for mercy of the Damned. And watched as they spent a thousand years of suffering in mere seconds.
This? This was not Hell.
Or at least...not the one he was familiar with.
He had just finished quenching his thirst when a familiar sound reached his ears, and his attention was drawn skywards. He looked up to see what might look like a distant flock of birds spreading out across the sky, but to a sharp-eyed observer like him, it was clear that it was not a flock of birds, but a colony of bats. There were of a kind he was not familiar with: large, black bats with white faces and underbellies, and wing membrane dipped in purple-blue colors. Their bodies were humanoid in build, like the Beastkin of bats, and they had purple human-like hair atop their heads.
But the thing that caught the most attention was the clothing and accessories they were wearing. Ancient-looking robes of dyed colors with open sides, leaving room for the wings, along with jewelry in their hair, ears, and around their necks forged of silver, gold, and other precious metals.
Spyro's ears perked up at the sight of them. These weren't simple animals of the wild. These were Enlightened. Nocturnals, just like the ones back home.
And wherever there were Enlightened, there was also Civilization.
And Civilization meant knowledge; knowledge of where he was, what kind of magics they had…and, if he was lucky, how to break the spell of his chains, and to find a means to get home.
The dragon took several steps backwards before taking a running leap over the river, easily crossing it with little issue. As he jumped, he summoned the power within his body and was completely engulfed in a roaring flurry of purple-and-orange flames; said flames appeared to coil their tongues around his reptilian form, as if he was being wrapped up tightly in large blankets, as if to squeeze him tight...which they appeared to do, his form growing ever smaller as it sailed through the air, all the while his sheer, overwhelming aura of his draconian presence began to drain from the very world around him.
By the time he landed on the opposite bank, he had transformed completely: the giant beast that was as large as the king of the dinosaurs was now no bigger than a wolf, landing gracefully on his paws with barely a thud. The flames around him burst into a flurry and dissipated into the wind, revealing his form changed significantly: it was as if he had turned into a smaller, smoother, and less-intimidating version of his previous form, with larger eyes, smoother scales, an outright-pleasant face, a frill of yellow on his head, a golden tail blade at the end of his tail, and so forth; he looked outright like a small, almost-cartoony version of his true self. What was also gone was the sheer presence of draconian power that had previously engulfed the entire area, all of it subdued and hidden away this tiny new form, leaving no one the wiser.
Spyro shook himself like a dog, shaking off the last bits of fire that clung to his scales, before spreading his wings before flapping them down hard, shooting up into the air like a rocket. Soon he was airborne again, taking flight and following the stream of Nocturnals as they flew high above him. He kept his distance, though; even in his smaller form, he knew how cautious Nocturnals could be of other races, and he didn't want to do anything to warrant hostility.
The next couple of minutes continued just like this, with the dragon quietly following the colony from close to the ground, no conflict arising whatsoever. However, after a while, that began to change: more and more of these strange bats began to notice their draconian follower, and with it a heavy air of tension began to form. He could hear quiet whispers being spoken, feel their stares becoming worried and wary.
Spyro pretended not to notice, trying to make it seem like he hadn't even noticed the colony and was just flying in the same direction they were.
But that didn't last long at all.
After another few minutes of uneasy silence, A small group of the bats broke off from the main colony and headed right for him. Spyro knew these were the some of the males; the males were always the ones to protect the colony (which honestly made the Silverwings' choice to split up before hibernation all the more confusing). He also knew that if they suspected a threat, violence was inevitable. To avoid this, he glided down to an open glade and landed on the ground, folding his wings to his sides, and lowering his head to make himself look as small as possible.
This display of submission worked: the males gathered around him, scowling with suspicion, but otherwise didn't attack him. Some of them landed on the ground in front of him, standing on their hind legs like humans, while others landed in the nearby trees, hanging upside down like traditional bats. Others still remained airborne, ready to go on the attack if need be.
"Why do you follow us, Sinner?" The first male, the largest of the group and most likely the leader, asked him in a demanding voice.
A small spark of anger flared in his heart at being called a 'sinner', but he pushed it down; instead, he simply took a deep breath, and then spoke:
"May the stars of Nocturna's wings guide us through the dark, until we are welcomed into the light of Frith once again."
That got the attention of the bats, their eyes widening in shock. "Wh…what did you-?"
"I'm no 'Sinner', whatever those are, and I mean your colony no harm." Spyro continued, keeping himself low to the ground. "I'm just looking for help."
The leader male didn't say anything at first. He stared at the dragon with narrowed eyes, unsure what to make of this creature before him. He then turned away, spreading his wings.
"Wait here." He told him before taking to the sky towards the colony, followed by half of the other males that had come with him; the other half stayed to keep guard of Spyro, though their stances were far less aggressive, staring at the dragon with more of an astonished curiosity than anything else. Quiet whispers were exchanged amongst them, discussing what this creature could be, and how he would know their most sacred of greetings.
Spyro was inwardly pleased with himself. He remembered Frieda's teachings well.
A few minutes past before the male returned, this time accompanied by more bats. Among these bats were who were clearly the Elders of the colony, older with an air of wisdom and experience about them; they also wore more extravagant jewelry to show their status, such as silver tiaras and banded necklaces. These elder bats all took roost on a large stone jutting out of the earth in front of the dragon, standing above him like a council. The other bats that accompanied them, both male and female alike, either took roost in the nearby trees or on the ground around them.
Then the one that had to be the leader stepped forward, and Spyro was taken quite aback.
It wasn't the fact that the lead elder was a female that caught Spyro off guard. It was how she presented herself that left him warbling with conflicting thoughts. She was an older bat, yes, but still possessing many beautiful qualities that made her just as lovely as any younger female. He remembered an expression Zoe had used for such women…MILF, if he recalled correctly, though such a term left a bad taste in his mouth, even if it was very accurate here. Not only that, but her sleeveless, open-back dress was very revealing; in ways that drew attention to all the right spots of her body, such as her bountiful bosom, designed to be alluring as possible. Quite contrary to how the more conservative Rodentkin dressed back on Nimh.
In fact, all of these black bats were of similar nature, both in build of body and design of outfit. The males were very well-built, with strong muscles and attractive forms. The females were all exceptionally beautiful creatures as well, with well-developed parts and alluring dresses; they lacked the manes that the males had around their necks and chests, only pronouncing their large, bountiful breasts all the more.
And for Spyro, a young drake who had just come of mating age, he found it VERY difficult to keep his attention away from what these beautiful girls were presenting.
The elder who had spoken took notice of the dragon's visible discomfort, a small smile of amusement tugging at her lips.
"It's not often we see anyone try to be respectful of us." She commented warmly; she then wrapped her wings in front of herself, concealing her body from view. "Does this help?"
It did, and Spyro gave an audible, guttering sigh as he was spared from the intense awkwardness.
"Yes. Thank you." He muttered lamely, not sure of what else to say.
The elder outright giggled at his response. "You're an amusing youngling, to be sure." She commented, before giving a light bow of respect. "My name is Nebula, leader of the Succu-Wing clan."
Spyro blanched a little: Succu-Wing. A bat version of the infamous Succubi, he realized…that was a clan Spyro had never heard of before, but the name made sense, as did their physiques and attire. They were Creatures of Lust.
Wonderful.
"I'm Spyro, a Dragon." He responded in return.
Nebula tilted her head in curiosity, her curled ears flopping to one side.
"A simple name for a Son of Akatosh." She thought aloud. "Well then, Spyro, how do you know of our mother Nocturna? And of our banishment to the night, for that matter?"
"I fly with the Silver-Wings back home." The dragon explained, flexing his wings for emphasis. "They have taught me well of your people…and of the injustices they have suffered all these eons."
One of the other elders, a male, looked surprised. "You consider our banishment to the night to be an injustice?"
"I consider the entire thing goddamn asinine." Spyro confirmed firmly, tail swishing with frustration. "The bats chose NOT to give involved in a stupid war, and for that their entire race and descendants alike are punished for all eternity?" He snorted, twin streams of smoke erupting from his nostrils. "Yes, I consider it injustice. One I intend to correct someday."
That was quite the proclamation for any single creature to make, even a dragon, and especially for such a young dragon as well; one that earned more than a few chuckles from the surrounding bats. Even Nebula seemed a bit amused by his bold claim, the look she gave him one of humoring pity. Spyro figured that's how they would react: it wasn't the first time someone believed his goals to be out of reach for anyone, especially when he was in this small form.
But he had made a promise long ago, and he intended to follow through with it.
But that was a task for another day; right now, he had other things that demanded his attention.
"What is this place?" He then asked, looking back up at the elders with hard eyes. "This realm, I mean."
Nebula's face quickly became one of sad concern.
"Isn't it obvious?" She asked, motioning a hand-wing to the sky above…or more precisely, to the large pentagram that dominated it.
Spyro simply looked up at the sky and cocked his head to the side in an animalistic manner. "I'm starting to realize it the more I look about myself, but it doesn't feel entirely…like it." He stated simply, the light of the pentagram reflecting in his eyes. "This is truly a Realm of Damnation, then?"
"It is." The bat said solemnly, nodding her head. "This is Hell, where the wicked go to suffer for their sins when they die…" She then gave him an odd look, her eyes glinting with knowing. "…except you are neither dead nor wicked, are you?"
Spyro shook his head. "I was dragged down here by forces I cannot explain…and held here by chains I cannot break." As he spoke the second part, he lifted his arm and mentally willed himself to go home. In response, the chain that was holding his arm flared to life and turned fully corporeal, its red-hot fangs still buried painlessly into his scales. He felt it tug at him ever so slightly, almost warningly, as if telling him not to get any ideas. "I'm seeking a means to break them so I may go home."
The other elders began talking amongst themselves upon the sight of the chains, eyeing them with a sense of uncertainty and trepidation. Nebula, meanwhile, leaned in to observe it with silence, a frown of concern adoring her face.
"I've never seen such chains before." She told him. "I'm afraid we can't help you."
"Then I'm in search for someone who can, which is why I was following you." He told them, willing the chain back into nothingness and lowering his arm. "I'm looking for the nearest settlement, and I hoped your colony would lead the way to one."
Nebula's frown turned into a soft smile. "Well, that we might be able to help you with. Give us a moment."
Spyro nodded, simply sitting down on the ground where he was standing, watching as the elders gathered together and began discussing his request amongst themselves. Some sounded open to the idea, while others seemed hesitant about it. He supposed that was only fair, given the reputation of his kind and all, not to mention being a complete stranger asking to fly with a colony; Bats were wary of outsiders, even among their own kind, and for many damn good reasons.
He remembered the horrors he had witnessed in the Vampyrum Rainforest vividly…
As he waited for the elders to finish their discussion, he looked about himself to see all the other bats around him, all of varying ages and sizes. Some, mostly the males, looked upon him with mistrust and even hostility, seeing him as a threat to their colony. Others stared at him with a sense of innocent curiosity, having never seen a dragon before. While a few of the females, much to his dismay, eyed him with an almost hungry look, their expressions ones of lust; he tried his best to ignore these stares.
Then he noticed of one of the females watching him with innocent curiosity, hanging upside down from a nearby tree. She was of the same age group as he was, and looked very similar to Elder Nebula, almost like a younger, shorter version of her. Her daughter, perhaps? When their eyes made contact, she offered him a friendly if cheeky smile, showing off her pearly-white fangs in a large grin.
Spyro returned the favor with a small smile of his own, the end of his tail wagging slightly.
Another moment passed before the elders finally came to a decision, and Nebula returned to the dragon with a pleased expression. "You may fly with us as far as Pentagram City." She told him. "It is the main city of the Pride Ring, and home to many of Hell's nobility; if the knowledge you seek exists in this ring, it will be there."
Spyro sighed with relief. "Thank you for your generosity. Really." He told her.
Nebula simply nodded in response, before turning to the crowd in the trees. "Astra! Are you here?"
"Here!" The female that resembled her responded, dropping down from her perch and gliding to the stone, landing next to her mother. When standing side by side, one could truly see how strongly they resembled each other.
"Do me a favor and allow Spyro here to fly with your group." Nebula told her, resting a claw against her daughter's shoulder. "He could use the company of those his own age."
Astra nodded without hesitation. "Sure thing, mother." She said with a respectful bow. Neubla nodded herself before taking to the air, soaring skywards back to the colony. The rest of the bats in the group follow suite, the air filled with flapping wings and quiet screeches of a bat swarm.
Spyro, uncertain of what to do, found himself face to face with the young female named Astra, given him that same grin she had given him before. "Come on, purps." She said cheekily. "We've gotta long way to Pentagram City, and a lot to catch you up on." She gave the dragon a friendly pet on the head before taking flight herself. "Try to keep up!"
Spyro rubbed the spot where he had been petted in confusion before spreading his wings, taking flight soon after.
"So, the Succuwings aren't the Damned Souls of Man?" Spyro asked.
"Nope, thank Asmodeus for that." Astra confirmed as the two flew along with the colony, the wolf-sized dragon no more than a strange speck of purple amongst the swarm of black. "We're Hellborn, creatures that were born in this realm just normally, like how creatures just exist in your world."
"How many races of 'Hellborn' are there?" The dragon then asked, eager to learn more of this realm.
"Oh, plenty." Astra told him. "There are the Imps from the Wrath Ring, the Hellhounds from the Gluttony Ring, the Succubi from the Lust Ring (same ring we're from, by the way), the Baphomets from the Sloth Ring, and lots of others." Her face turned a little sour. "None in the Pride Ring, though; that's the ring the Sinners are confined to."
"The ones who are damned humans."
"Yep." The female bat told him, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "The Sinners can't leave the Pride Ring, by law of Lord Lucifer himself." She chuckled. "And good thing to: they've already made a big shithole out of their own ring; we don't need them doing the same to ours."
That name took Spyro aback a bit. "Lucifer…as in The Devil Lucifer?" He asked. "Old Scratch, Mr. S, The Big D?"
"PFFT!" Astra nearly lost her grip in the air. "B-Big D! Ha!" She laughed aloud. A lot of the other bats around them began laughing as well.
Spyro looked confused. "What'd I say?"
"Is he serious?" One male asked another.
"Guys, don't be mean." Another female chastised them.
"Y-Yeah, the same guy." Astra stated, fighting back giggles. She would've wiped a tear from her eye, had she not been using her wings to fly. "We Succuwings try to avoid him and his 'collection' when we can."
"If that's so, then why are you passing through one of their largest cities?" Spyro then asked.
Astra gave a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. "Because we're Succuwings. Creatures of Lust. We need to feed well before hibernation, and Sinners are the biggest, most fulfilling sources of Lust to be found throughout the Seven Rings." She said as if repeating words she was made to memorize.
Oh.
Oh.
"Yuck." Was all the dragon could bring himself to say.
"Yeah, I'm not really looking forward to it either." Astra murmured, before her expression turned thoughtful. "Well, if they're cute and somewhat nice, it wouldn't be too bad. But this is hell; just about everybody's gross down here." She then shrugged, or at least did so to the best of her ability, as her wings would allow. "But hey, at least the city's cool. My friends and I are planning on getting some of the new Vox-Phones so we can watch the Extermination from our cave."
Spyro blinked, the word Extermination echoing forebodingly within his head.
But before anything else could be asked, a loud shrill scream of a bat echoed from the front, being repeated down the swarm every other bat. Soon the entire colony was singing in response, the front of the swarm taking a sharp dip downwards.
The dragon blinked in confusion, watching as the bats began to dive around him in the dozens. "What's going on?"
"We're here!" Astra said excitedly, flapping her wings to gain a little height. "Race you down there!" She called out before taking a steep dive through the cloud cover.
Spyro gave a warbling bark of surprise before repeating the actions she had, taking a nose-dive downwards like a comet in flight. Soon the clouds began to break apart and then fade behind them, revealing a pentagram-shaped sea of lights and noise below. Then the clouds disappeared entirely, and Spyro the Dragon took in the full sight of Pentagram City for the first time.
Pentagram City was a metropolitan city built in the shape of a Pentagram and was divided into many large and small sections containing many businesses of interest such as casinos, nightclubs, brothels, restaurants, television stations, theaters, and hotels. The gigantic pentagram in the sky lined up perfectly with the design of the city, hence its name, while all of the city was surrounded by sharp, jagged rocks and mountains, looking as if it had been built within a massive crater. At the very center of the city was what resembled a giant golden hourglass, looking outright divine in nature compared to its surroundings.
Spyro's eyes narrowed at the sight.
Somewhere here, in this literal city of sin, was the means for him to find his way home. Whether he would achieve that by a kind hand offering him the means for an acceptable price, or by ripping it out of the cold, dead hands had yet to be seen.
He would get it either way, no matter how much sinful blood he had to spill to do so…even if it meant facing down Lucifer himself.
He was going to go home, one way or another.
But as he spotted Astra hovering in the air below up, waiting for him to catch up, he decided that he would attempt the peaceful means first, before resorting to violence.