It was wonderful to finally feel solid earth again.

Reaching the part of the shallows where the ocean was shallow enough for his paws to touch the seafloor, Spyro shifted from swimming like a crocodile to walking along the bottom, wading through the water until he finally stepped out onto the beach, the last few inches of the waves lapping at the back of his paws as he completely exited the water. The pleasant sensation of warm sand grinding between his toes, the solidity of the unmovable earth beneath his feet, and the cool early-spring breeze blowing from the west all brought a sense of satisfaction to the Safi'jiiva's chest, prompting a deep reptilian purr to come from his throat.

And once he stepped far enough away from the water, he promptly shook himself dry like a dog while flapping his wings, sending a light spray of sea-water in all directions.

"ACK!"

The pained exclamation alerted him to his fairy's presence, and he turned his head to see Zoe hovering only a few feet away from him, recoiling from the drizzle he unwittingly sprayed her with; her skin gave a hiss of steam where the salt water touched, forming light red spots of irritation across her arms, shins, and face, akin in appearance to the irritated burns caused by poison ivy. This was a natural reaction fairies had to anything with salt in it, given their kind had a strong natural aversion to the mineral in question.

"A little warning would've been nice!" She snapped as she dried herself off with the sleeves and skirts of her dress.

Spyro merely snorted animalistically at the sight, more bemused than concerned, absentmindedly whipping his tail back to shake the last of the water off.

Zoe gave a pouty 'hmph!' in response, but otherwise said nothing more regarding the matter as she continued drying herself; the red spots faded from the Dragon Fairy's skin as her magic healed the burns, making them disappear as quickly as they arrived; that was a reason most of the Veil Piercer's crew had been made up of rodentkin, despite it being a fairy ship. And the fact she and the other members of the crew that had been Fae risked going out to sea in the first place truly spoke to how strongly they viewed the importance of the entire journey...and how much trouble they were in when said ship was (unintentionally) sunk in the shallows, leaving the fairies to either fight with the rats for a spot in the lifeboats, or end up taking a dip in what was akin to acid to them.

The fact that the original mission they embarked on was a failure only added insult to injury.

The sound of shifting sand turned both of their gazes to a distant spot on the beach. Several yards away, a large mound rose up as a large creature emerged from below the surface of the nearby dune, the sand sliding off its back like waterfalls of tiny stone: a massive hermit crab, as large as a full-grown bull, pulled itself and its chariot-sized shell out of its hiding place, having been disturbed by the sound of other creatures. Enormous legs as thick as the arms of a gorilla clawed at the sand with lazy determination, their owner set to move but more than confident in its protective shell as to not be in a hurry to escape the potential danger.

Its pitch-black eyes twitched on their stalks toward the dragon and fairy, eyeing them quietly for a moment, before the massive crustacean turned away and began dragging itself towards the ocean, leaving a deep trail behind it.

Spyro turned his head to follow the giant crab, the sight of it only helping to confirm that he was indeed back on Nimh. It made him recall when they had first arrived in the Dragon Realms, and he had seen their version of hermit crabs on the beach near the harbor; he had been deeply disappointed by their laughably tiny size, no bigger than a pebble. He had no idea why any dragon that lived there would even bother trying to catch them; the delicacy of their meat was not worth the energy it would take to catch enough to fill their stomachs. As he later would learn, they didn't eat the crabs. But the firsts of a long, long list of disappointments that the next decade of his life would end up being for him.

The so-called 'glorious' Dragon Realms, and the fairies of Feywild had described it: The 'homeland' of his kind.

Laughable.

Eventually the crab crawled far enough away and began to descend into the shallows, submerging itself out of the reach of the potential predator that had awakened it. Spyro watched it go for just a little longer before he turned his sights back to what awaited him just beyond the sand: the wide expanse of a grassy meadow, half-way between the transition from winter to spring. He could tell by the mixture of brown and green in the grass that the snow had just melted away, allowing the sun to finally start bringing the world back to life. The slight chill lingering in the air was further proof of this; a sign that the frost of winter had only just left the ground.

But as beautiful as it was, it was another sight of the meadow that drew his attention. One that, just like the crab, cemented the fact that he was finally home:

Scattered across the field, like trees scattered across the savannas, were massive flowers that were as large as small trees, some tall enough to reach his underbelly, with stems as thick as saplings and petals extending several feet in diameter. On one of these flowers, he spotted the giant butterfly from before, drinking deeply from the rich pools of nectar within its stamen.

Beyond the field he could see the distant north-western edge of Feywild Forest, the forest that he had lived in for most of his life; the trees were absolutely gigantic, standing as large and tall as skyscrapers, stretching hundreds of feet into the sky and with canopies wide and thick enough to completely eclipse the sun.

He was finally back.

Nimh, the Land of the Rodentkin.

The Rodentkin were the rodent version of Beastkin: the animal-people that could speak words and walk on their hind legs like humans could. There were several different kind of rodentkin; the most common were the Rats, who were about the same size as Zoe on average, but others included the smaller Mice and Shrews, along with Hedgehogs, Moles, Squirrels, and other such 'woodland critters' (minus the rabbits and the bats, as they were of a different race class than the rodents, as he had been taught with notable exception: the rabbits were known as the El-ahrian, while the bats were known as the Nocturnal).

It was believed that the rodentkin were the reason Nimh was such a different place to the rest of the world outside it: it was as if, in response to their size, everything here had been magically scaled up to match them; from the flowers and trees to the insects and animals, all now much larger than they were in other lands.

To outsiders, it would seem as if they themselves had shrunk down to the size of a mouse; a no-doubt frightening experience for those unprepared for it.

But to Spyro, who had been born in this land, feeling as small as a mouse was to feel right at home.

It had been the size of everything on the so-called mainland that had unnerved him: everything was so tiny and weak by comparison, as if he had been forcibly enlarged into a giant, making it a very hard and cumbersome process for him to adjust to the illusion of size-change for the first year or so. Not to mention said size-change brought with it a forced change of diet that he did not appreciate; while the flesh of the mammals of the mainland had been delicious (he had gained a particularly strong taste for sheep), he had found himself longing for the pleasant crunchiness and sweet juice of Nimh's giant insects.

...All that being said, while everything was indeed back to a satisfying size, he couldn't help but still feel that it still wasn't as big as he remembered it to be. He didn't recall being able to see the top of the tall flowers back in the day. so why-?

Realization hit him rather suddenly, and he looked down at his hand, pulling it back to reveal the footprint in the sand underneath; a footprint that was as nearly as large as Zoe was now, while he could remember a time he was once the same size as she was. He remembered the two of them being at near eye-level with each other when they first boarded the Veil Piercer all those years ago...

How much had he grown since he last saw the fields of giant flowers? How long had it truly been since he had roamed the forests of sky-reaching trees?

Too long.

Far, far too long.

"I'd almost forgotten just how big everything was." Zoe said quietly as she hovered next to his head, observing the sight of the meadow with an unreadable expression on her face. She almost looked lost, her memories of home just as ancient and alien to her and his was to him.

"Still feels too small." Spyro growled, using his claws to scratch the footprint out of the sand in disgust.

The fairy allowed a light-hearted smirk at his comment. "Don't go blaming the world for being unable to keep up with your stomach." She stated cheekily as she poked the side of his head with a finger. Spyro gave an irritated snarl and snapped his jaws at the offending finger, which Zoe yanked away from the blade-sized teeth just in time to avoid losing it. Her smirk became a more sincere smile. "Growing this big is natural for your kind; it would've been the same had you stayed."

The dragon gave a deep, gurgling sigh that sounded like an alligator's growl as he turned back to stare out over the fields of green. A moment of silence passed between them, before Zoe spoke again, her smile turning into a displeased frown.

"I imagine they're already missing us back in Avalon." She told him flatly, sounding no more pleased than he was at the idea. "With plenty to complain about, I'm sure. Should we start our way ba-"

"No."

The single word outright thundered across the beach with a crackling growl akin to the roar of open flame, interrupting her mid-speech with the unwavering suddenness of a lightning strike; Spyro's voice outright transformed into the voice of a true Elder Dragon: deep, thunderous, and fiery, like a force of nature given tongue. His anger was emphasized by his eyes, which were now literally burning with golden-orange fire, the flames licking the sharp spikes of his eye ridges. He glared toward the edge of Feywild Forest, which sat to the northwest of their current location.

"I'm done playing their pointless games." He growled in his 'dragon voice', sending heavy vibrations through Zoe's very bones, as well as scaring the roosting seagulls into the air, screeching up a storm while desperately flapping their wings to escape the great reptile as fast as possible. He gave a defiant huff as he turned away from the forest, opting to start heading towards the south-western fields instead. "If they seek for further audience with me, they will do so on my terms."

Zoe cocked an eyebrow at this statement, though she couldn't stop the feeling of sisterly pride from blooming in her breast.

"Defying the wishes of the kingdom, eh?" she asked, tilting her head to the side with a lopsided grin. She tapped her chin with a finger, as if in thought. "Now where in the world could you've gotten that from, I wonder?" The dragon snorted in annoyance to her question, though his upper lip curled up in a saurian's version of his own grin, the flames of his eyes cooling back down to a soft glow. She shrugged, pulling her arms behind her head, and leaning back to pop the kinks out of her arms and spine. "So, if not Feywild, where shall we head off to first, then?"

Spyro paused to give it thought, a deep rumble of thought thrumming from his throat as he stared at the ground for a moment...before his eyes lit up as the answer crossed his mind:

"I've missed my favorite sunning spot for a decade." He stated simply, swinging his tail in a swishing flick. "It's about time I returned to it."

Not even a few hours since the dragon had returned, and King Oberon was already being reminded of what it meant to be the overseer of the Jendovahzoor.

He had almost forgotten how aneurysm-including it could be.

When the watchmen of the kingdom's western outpost announced the sight of the Veil Piercer on the distant horizon, it had sent the entire kingdom into a flurry of talk and excitement. Even in the lifespan of the fae, ten years was a long time to go without seeing someone, let alone their ward of the purple dragon of legends. Just about every fairy in the forest had gathered at Avalon's Riverside Docks to see the mighty ship sail up the river, golden sails glimmering in the sunlight, all leading up to that one glorious, anticipated moment when the great Jendovahzoor would finally step foot on Nimh soil for the first time in a decade. Given the Veil Piercer's famous speed, they would see the ship arrive within the hour, just in time to be greeted with a celebration feast for breakfast. There were booths selling sweet treats, party games with prizes for the children, musicians piping enchanted music so wonderful that it made one dance involuntarily, and everything else that once would expect for what many would see as the greatest event of the entire decade.

It wouldn't be until several hours later when three lifeboats cramped with the soggy crew slowly paddled their way to dock, the mere sight of it all being enough to put a halt to the music and celebration in an instant.

And that's how Oberon found himself here: seated on his throne in meeting with the Grand Calendula Council to address the matter of the Veil Piercer's impromptu destruction, and the absence of their legendary beast of prophecy, instead of celebrating his long-awaited return.

The former crew of the Veil Piercer, or at least the Fair Folk members of it, were still dripping with sea-water as they stood before the council, said water pooling on the smooth amber floor beneath them, while their bodies were red with the burns of the ocean's salt, appearing sunburned from head to toe (which was impressive for the plant-based crew members, as they were normally not capable of sun-burning).

Massaging his temples did little to relieve him of the intense headache he was currently experiencing, and the shouting between the other members of the council wasn't helping it either. The Veil Piercer...the pride and joy of his entire personal fleet...a ship that had cost more time and gold to construct than it had to build than your average medium-sized village...built for the chosen purpose of ferrying the Jendovahzoor to the land of his fellow dragons as swiftly yet comfortably as possible...split in half and sunk to the bottom of the northern shallows by said Safi'jiiva, taking with it a king's ransom's worth of materials and treasure with it. Only the top of the last intact mast stood unclaimed by the depths and visible from shore, pathetically poking out from just above the ocean's surface like the reaching hand of a drowning sailor, the flag of Feywild hanging limp and heavy with sea-water.

It was going to take months to salvage the recoverable pieces from the ocean bed, such as the rigging, treasure, and supplies (made no less difficult by it being under salt water). And even if they could somehow pull the ship itself from its watery grave, there was no saving it; the keel had been split in half by the dragon's raw strength, and without its literal spine, the Veil Piercer was never to sail again. They would have to rebuild a new ship straight from the ground up. And that, frankly, was only if they were ever going to send Spyro away from the mainland again and, judging by the dragon's eagerness to get to shore, that was probably never going to happen.

He sighed heavily, that particular thought weighing heavily on his mind; so much time, money, and resources...wasted.

"And he was heading away from Feywild, last you saw of him?" The Eladrin asked, making sure to hide his emotions behind a voice of commanding calm.

The former first mate, a soaked and grumpy Spriggan whose trademark fiery-red hair and beard hung wet and dripping over his face, nodded with a huff. "Didn't so much as spare us'a glance, not even once." He spoke in a gruff voice, pausing to shake the water from his beard, spluttering as he did so. "Last we saw a 'im, he was headin' south-west, t'words the woodl'nds linin' the moun'ins."

"That puts him straight on the path to the southern border!" The Grig Representative exclaimed, stomping the ground in front of his chair with his grasshopper-like foot.

"The Rodentkin will discover him for sure!" The Shimmerling Representative shouted in turn.

The Spriggan Representative slammed his mud-colored fist on the council chamber's grand table, the harden amber ringing under the blow. "We must take action before that happens!"

"All of you, calm yourselves!" Oberon barked, his voice louder than all the others; the council quieted down, staring at their king with expectant expression. Taking a moment to collect himself, the King of the Fair Folk first turned to the crew and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "You've all done your kingdom and dragon well. Treatment for your salt-burns awaits you all at the infirmary." The first mate nodded in gratitude before he and the others left the council chambers, leaving a trail of water on the floor behind them. Only once the great oak doors closed with a loud clap did Oberon allow himself to sink back into his chair with a heavy sigh, resting his head against the knuckles of his left hand.

"Well, that was a waste of an entire decade..." He muttered bitterly, no longer obligated to hide his frustration.

"Perhaps we gambled a little too heavily on the idea of the Tamrizerothian races accepting any kind of Elder Dragon pup, let alone a Safi'jiiva." The Seasonal Fairy Representative said in agreement. "We would not welcome the equivalent of a primal monster into our homes. Why would they?"

"His heritage could also be a factor of their rejection." The Nixie Representative spoke, taking a moment to brush her long, wet hair out of her sliver-green face. "Sacred Beast of Legend or not, the scars of his predecessor still haven't had enough time to fully heal. Even most of us feared to accept the reality of another Jendovah being born we he was first brought to us."

"None of that matters now!" Spriggan snapped angrily. "Regardless of how or why, Jendovahzoor has been rejected by the Realm Dragons and is back in Nimh, now of size and strength for the entire continent to see!"

"We all knew that Nimh would learn of his presence sooner or later. It's only a matter of time, regardless of the outcome of the expedition." Oberon stated in a much calmer tone than before, though he remained slouched in his seat, quite lacking the will to bother looking presentable. "Feywild Forest cannot hold Jendovahzoor forever; with every passing day the dragon grows, and as he does, so does the urge to leave the nest."

"Agreed: he's no longer the pup he once was." Nixie said. "The forest alone is no longer a suitable home for him; dragons need the open sky to spread their wings, not a cage of trees."

"And once Jendovahzoor does learn how to fly, his territory boundaries will skyrocket." The Banshrae Representative added sullenly, his telepathic voice as gloomy as his demeanor. "It's only a matter of time before all of Nimh becomes his domain to explore."

"Which is why we need to act now, before it's too late!" Shimmerling interrupted, her crystalline wings shivering with emotion. "We've kept Jendovahzoor's existence a secret from the Rodentkin because their cowardice is as strong as their feral brethren; the moment they learn that a dragon is on Nimh, let alone an Aetherian Safi'jiiva, the outcries of fear will be as loud as a stone giant's roar!"

"And with said fear comes violent retaliation." The Redcap Representative said, adjusting his signature cap atop his head as he spoke. "It'll only be a matter of time before a bounty will be placed on his head, and every would-be dragonslayer seeking to make a name for themselves will be after him."

Another round of whispering and muttering passed around the council, this time in a much angrier and hate-filled tone.

Dragonslayer.

A word that the Fair Folk truly despised with every fiber of their being.

Blasphemy given Title.

"Not the mention that with revelation of his existence, they'll also learn that we had been willingly keeping him here, within reach of their lands, for all this time." Grig said with concern, scratching the exoskeleton plating on his head. "What little peace that exists between the Fair Folk and the Rodentkin will be completely shattered when that happens."

"Then what do you suggest we do? Imprison our own savior within the confines of the forest?" Banshrae asked incredulously. "Lock him away like a wild beast within a cage? Never let him see the sunlight again?" He would've spat in disgust if he had a mouth to do so with. "Blasphemous nonsense, as well as impossible!"

"Agreed. He's now far too strong for any of us to force him against his will." Nixie said in agreement. "It is inevitable: as King Avalon said, Jendovahzoor and our involvement with him will soon be known throughout all of Nimh, whether we like it or not."

"Scattered, inexperienced hunters are of little concern." Oberon spoke up himself, putting his own two cents in the conversation. "If Jendovahzoor can crush an entire night patrol squad as an infant, then a few rats looking for easy coin will be child's play by comparison for a pre-teen dragon. One with far more training in his elements and far more experience in combat than most dragons his age have..." His brow furrowed in troubled thought. "No...it's the idea of him encountering the other Titan Beasts of Nimh that concerns me the most."

That got the council's attention, this time the in-talking whispers being fearful and dreaded. After all, Jendovahzoor was only one of several great beasts that roamed the lands of Nimh, and he was but the youngest and smallest of all of them.

One was the great Monster Cat of Nimh, Dragon (a creature of ironic name, honestly) a huge, bloodthirsty beast that terrorized all of Nimh as it pleased, feasting on entire villages to satiate its never-ending appetite. It feared neither sword nor magic in the name of satisfying its hunger, and while Spyro may have been of similar size now, the giant cat currently had him beat in sheer muscle and savage ferocity, more than capable of ripping a pre-teen dragon to shreds.

Then there was the Great Owl, a truly ancient and feared monster of the sky; a giant, ancient owl that had hunted Nimh's inhabitants for as long as any of them remembered. It was so powerful and long-lived that the Rats worshipped it as a godly beast, wise and knowledgeable to where even Avalon himself had once sought an audience with it in times of need. The encounter with the great bird of legend, massive in size and mighty in strength despite its incredible age, was one he would remember clearly for the rest of the days. The Owl was intelligent and cool-tempered enough to be reasoned with, but if he and Jendovahzoor ever crossed paths, it would no doubt result in a vicious fight for territory.

And while Jendovahzoor may have been the legendary Aetherian Safi'jiiva, but he was young, soft, and comparatively-inexperienced; at his current age and strength, even with the ability to wield the elements on his side, he wouldn't stand a chance against either of them.

Then there was...the third one.

Oberon sighed wearily once more, his frustration with the dragon's antics giving way to genuine concern, the smallest glimmer of worry and exhaustion escaping from his normally unbreakable expression. He squeezed his eyes shut with self-anger.

If only their venture to the Realms had not been in vain...

"Well...what do we do then?" The question was spoken so softly and hesitantly, no one could tell who had spoken it.

The king gave himself a moment to compose himself, opening his eyes and looking out over all the expecting faces staring at him. His kingdom, and its future, all looking to him for the answer to a question that could potentially spell their doom. The crown on his head suddenly felt ten times heavier, threatening to break his back from the sheer weight of the entire forest riding on its decisions.

It was times like this he truly missed the support of his old friend.

"For now, I will contact Jendovahzoor's Dragon Fairy and get a fully-detailed report of what happened in the Realms and the Gnorc War." He finally decided, straightening himself up. "Perhaps she can shed light of what went wrong."

The sound of rushing water reached Spyro's ears, and he paused mid-step to turn his head in a saurian manner, looking in the direction it was coming from: to the right of his current path, beyond the wall of grass and flowers that surrounded him on all sides. His forked serpentine tongue licked at the roof of his mouth, a sudden thirst making itself known in it and his throat as he crooned with a dry breath; apart from licking the large morning dewdrops off the giant flowers of the meadow he was traveling through, he hadn't had a proper drink of water since the night before...

Zoe fluttered to a halt when she noticed the dragon suddenly stop and turn to stare to their right; she was about to ask what was wrong when her own elf-like ears picked up the sounds of flowing water.

Without a word, Spyro promptly turned in the direction of the sound, pushing his way through the wall of stalks in front of him, leaving a tramped tunnel behind; his fairy waited until the entirety of his spiny tail slid through the air after him before she followed herself, having learned from experience to be careful of the ever-moving extension of his spine and the many sharp points at the end of it. He continued to push his way through the giant flower patch until he finally broke through the edge of it and found himself out in the open air again. He stepped out from the confining plants and took a much-needed breath of air free from pollen.

A thick coat of the seed-bearing powder clung to the cervices of his scales all across his body, giving him the appearance of having large yellow splotches across his length. He parted his wings slightly before clapping them against his sides with a thunderous slap; the sheer force of the impact, combined with the wind generated from it, was enough to blow all the annoying powder off himself and send it scattering through the air in a flurry.

Then he looked out to the sight that greeted him; a sight that brought forth a wave of pleasant memories of the carefree days of fun and joy, long before the burdens of his many titles were bestowed upon his purple scales.

Winding through the northern woods to the ocean that he had left behind hours ago, its view of the crystal-clear waters only muddled by the rapids that warped the surface, was the small but mighty Brisby River. Named after a famous adventurer/hero of the Rodentkin Lands, it was nowhere near as large as the river that flowed through Feywild, but it was just as important and well-known a landmark to the Fae; according to the story, it was on these very banks that the younger Prince Avalon first encountered said adventurer and challenged him to a duel for the right to drink from the river first, only to lose to the mouse, who used his small size and quick-wit to send the young eladrin tumbling into the water like a drunken toad.

A story that was a favorite amongst the fairies and told throughout the palace to this day, much to the annoyed humor of the king himself.

It was also a place that held personal memories for the young dragon; the very riverbank he was standing on was once the sight of play and childhood joy for him. Appearance wise, the bank was by no means special, other than a large yet normal-sized oak tree that he was currently standing next to. Said tree grew out and over the riverbank and river, its branches already full of early-spring leaves, making it both the perfect shade during a hot day and a fun platform for jumping into the water from. His eyes fell to a spot near the base of the trunk facing him; there, clumsily carved into the bark near the roots, were the stick-figure etchings of a girl with wings and a small dragon jumping happily in play.

The letters 'S' and 'Z' had been carved above the dragon and fairy respectively, a small heart symbol sitting between said letters.

He could almost hear it in the rushing water: the distant sound of happy giggles and squeals accompanied by gurgling coos and yips. He could also almost see it as he looked back over the water: the sights of a purple dragon wyrmling, no bigger than a medium-sized dog and wide-eyed with happy wonder, and a young fairy child no older than eight, with messy brown hair in a loose-fitting, sleeveless flower-gown, splashing about in the shallows in the light of the summer sun. Spraying each other with the cold, sparkling water, chasing after normal-sized frogs and crayfish through the reeds, and laying out in the grass to dry their muddy bodies off in the warm summer sun, only to eventually be dragged kicking and screaming to bubble baths by exhausted servants and tucked into warm beds for the cool summer nights.

The image of his past played out before his eyes, as if he was someone watching it from the sides, while his mind's eye saw it through the perspective of the young wyrmling. A soft warmth burned beneath the plated scales of his chest; a feeling that ached with longing yet was comforting and soft to his insides. A thrumming sigh escaped his nostrils, twin streams of smoke blowing from them.

It was beginning to feel like he was finally home now.

And with the recognition of this place, Spyro knew where he was now: his favorite spot was not far at all, no further than around the upcoming bend in the river. They would be there in but a minute or two...but as of that moment, what he wanted most was to quench the dryness of his throat. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

He stepped down to the edge of the river, his paws leaving deep saurian footprints in the mud, before crouching down and reaching out with his neck to dip his lower jaw into the water and drinking deeply of the flowing water. The icy-cold liquid flowed down his throat into his fiery stomach, a deep chilling sensation causing him to give a brief shiver: another sign of winter's passing. The snow had just melted off the ground and was now flowing off to the reclaimed by the distant sea. In fact, scattered across the distant banks of the river, he could see clumps of muddy snow bunched up along the water's edge; the last bits of winter clinging to the coldest parts of the earth they could, before they too would eventually melt away to the warmth of spring.

As he drank, Zoe flew up into the branches of their old tree, tucking the back of her skirts under her legs before sitting down on one of the larger branches; her wings folded behind her back like a butterfly in rest. She simply leaned forward to watch the Safi'jiiva drink, content to simply sit and admire the awe-inspiring sight of her draconian charge.

And for a brief moment, things were looking like they could be good again.

Then the peace was shattered by a very unwelcome presence in the form of a sharp twinkling tone, like the music from a wind chime, singing out from within the confines her right skirt pocket; said pocket was glittering with a blue light that was just bright enough to glow through the fabric of the skirt, blinking in a rhythm almost matching a heartbeat.

Zoe's ears curled into angry downward hooks as a very displeased frown twisted her face; couldn't have given him so much as a single day to himself, huh?

Her reaction, however, was a child's pout compared to Spyro's. The Safi'jiiva's pupils narrowed into perfectly straight slits of anger as he glared backwards from his position at the fairy, the glowing fire within them once again licking all the way up to his eye-ridges as his lips twisted into an angry snarl that showed off all of his deadly teeth. A thunderous growl erupted from deep within him, vibrating through the earth and the very tree Zoe stood in, the branches quivering as if in their own fear of his wrath.

"They're probably just freaking out that we didn't return to Feywild." Zoe reassured him, a bit nervous about being in the sights of an upset dragon but understanding all too well why he was upset. She slipped a hand into her pocket to fish out the item in question. "I'll talk to them. Give me a moment to get them off our tails."

Spyro snorted in displeasure, but ultimately said nothing and returned to drinking from the river, though the water was bitter to the taste now.

Zoe gave him an apologetic look before she turned her displeased attention to the item now in her hand: a large sky-blue crystal that was cut in the shape of a flat hexagonal diamond. It glowed with its own sparkling light, while the air around it filled with a fine, almost pixie-dust like mist that twinkled in the sunlight. With a soft growl of her own, she flipped it over and tapped her thumb against the smoothed surface three times; this action made the crystal's soft glow increase to a brilliant light. She then opened her hand, which allowed it the crystal to slowly rise into the air, until it was floating free at eye-level with her. Free from having to hold it, she made herself comfortable by leaning back against the trunk of the tree, grumpily folding her arms around her bosom as she watched the pixie dust come together around the crystal to form a single orb of white light floating in the air.

And from deep within the light orb, an image formed: first it was faded and blurry, as if surrounded by fog...but eventually the image cleared to reveal none other than King Oberon himself, sitting in his throne within the council room. Zoe's expression softened a touch when she saw the King of the Fair Folk; he was all but limp in his chair, the exhaustion and stress of the kingdom making him appear older than he actually was, his eyes closed as if asleep, but the farthest thing from it.

After a second or two, the eladrin opened his eyes and met hers through the Speaking Crystal, the direct line of communication between the king and the dragon fairy. "Zoeandra Autumnleaf." He said in greeting, his voice polite and strong despite his current appearance. "You've grown since we last spoke."

Zoe narrowed her eyes in mischief, unable to pass up the chance. "And you've gotten as saggy as an elephant's ass." She quipped without missing a beat. "Still look better than the rest of the Calick-a-dick-a Council, though."

As if on que, there were several cries of offense and outrage from Oberon 's end of the spell, many of the council members speaking out against the words the dragon fairy against them and their king. Oberon, on the other hand, only groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "I take back my previous statement." He stated flatly. "You may have gotten older, but you haven't matured a bit."

"Oh, I've matured." Zoe said smugly as she brushed one of her locks behind her ear, only for it to fall out and hang back over the side of her face. "But neither you nor the court deserves to see it." Her smugness vanished as her expression hardened again. "Besides, you're not here for me, are you?"

"Let's get straight to the point and be done with it, then." The king said in agreement, adjusting himself in his throne. "First and foremost: where in the hollow are you two?"

"Along the banks of Brisby River." Zoe answered. "At the sandbank we use to play in, to be exact; by the old oak tree?"

There was a moment of silence, before recognition flashed across Oberon 's eyes. "Ah, yes, I remember: your old 'swimming hole'." He muttered thoughtfully. "Why didn't you return to Feywild? We made many preparations for Jendovahzoor's return."

Zoe spared a quick glance to the side; Spyro had paused drinking and was giving another draconian glare in their direction, as if daring either of them to say something he didn't want to hear. The dragon fairy shivered slightly, the piercing stare of his fiery eyes triggering every blood-rooted instinct within her to run for her life, even though she knew it wasn't really in danger. That's how powerful the influence of the Elder Dragons of Primordia was throughout all the realms...

"Spyro does not wish to return to the forest." She ultimately managed to say. "We're currently heading to the Le-."

"Watch your words, Autumnleaf!" The sudden voice of the Spriggan Representative shouted in the background of the spell. "You disgrace our savior addressing him with the 'name' the mortals have sullied his glory with! You will address him as Jendovahzoor and nothing less!"

Spyro growled under his breath at the spriggan's words.

Zoe was no less impressed than her dragon was. "Spyro's ass must taste of honeydew and rainbows if it's that delicious to kiss." She 'pondered aloud', more than enough so for everyone on the other end of the line to hear.

Despite his current anger, the young Safi'jiiva couldn't stop a huff of amusement from escaping his throat.

They both could imagine the spriggan's face going as red as his beard. "YOU DARE SPEAK TO-?!"

"ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!"

Oberon 's voice was as powerful and demanding as the crash of thunder, silencing everyone in the conversation quite effectively, as well as scaring a few of the birds roosting in the tree to the skies. "You watch your own words, Spriggan! Zoeandra is Jendovahzoor's Dragon Fairy and said blessing grants her special privileges regarding interaction with the dragon!" He then turned to her. "Zoeandra, for the sake of addressing Jendovahzoor's current status, please keep at least some level of respect when speaking to the council."

Said Dragon Fairy remained quiet for a moment. "...I will not make promises I don't intend to keep." She ultimately stated, earning a heavy sigh of exasperation from the Fairy King. "But as I was saying before being rudely interrupted: given that we just got back home after an entire decade of being away, surely you can understand that Spyro needs some time to familiarize himself with Nimh before doing anything else. We're currently on our way to the Lee of the Stone, near the old Fitzgibbons Ruins at the lake, where he wants to stay for a bit. Without being disturbed."

"I understand Jendovahzoor's desire to roam where he pleases, but we cannot simply ignore the changes his return will bring." Oberon told them, speaking in a manner that addressed them both, even if Spyro wasn't directly participating in the conversation. "Our biggest concern right now is the fact the Rodentkin will eventually discover his existence, and the conflict that said discovery will bring to the entirety of Nimh."

Spyro gave pause mid-drink to that comment.

Why was that an issue they worried about? Apart from Redbeard and his crew manning the Veil Piercer during the voyage, he had never encountered a native of the Rodentkin lands in all his life. Then again, in the entire half-a-century or so he had lived on Nimh, he had never set foot beyond the borders of Feywild, the Lee of the Stone being the furthest point from the palace they were allowed to go. And Rodentkin were outright forbidden from entering Feywild's territory itself, with those that wandered too close to the forest for comfort were 'encouraged' by the patrols to leave altogether.

Had it been because of him? Oberon had just said he and the other fairies didn't want the rodents to find out about him; were they that focused about keeping him a secret from the world? And is so, why?

Was it because if they did, they wouldn't shower him with the overwhelming adoration that the fairies constantly gave him? Given that he was thoroughly sick of it by this point, a different reaction would be a welcomed change, as far as he was concerned...unless...they would react with fear instead? They always said the rodentkin were easily frightened by nature, and Elder Dragons were the most feared of all the creatures in the world.

Would they instead view him with horror and disdain, as if he was some great monster like the Titan Beasts?

Like they had done?

"Is that really so much an issue?" Zoe asked, subtlety aware that her charge had gone unnaturally silent. "The closest rodentkin settlement is Dapplewood, and that's on the very border of the Fae kingdom. The chances of him running into any is very low."

"Only if Jendovahzoor is to stay within the forest." Oberon said sternly. "Which he has already proven he won't."

Zoe cleared her throat, her next words spoken in an almost teaching tone, "'One cannot order a volcano to stop erupting when it decides to do so, nor ask the earth to stop shaking during an earthquake, as the true forces of nature bow to neither man nor magic. By the same reasoning, one cannot command the Sons of Akatosh from going where they will their wings to take them, nor stop them from breathing their flames where they wish'." She quoted with perfect memory, grinning like a cat afterwards. "You told me that the day I became Spyro's Dragon Fairy, remember?"

And despite the stress of his current situation, Oberon couldn't stop smiling himself. "If only you gave as much dedication to common manners as you did your dragon." He humored fondly at the memories. The lighthearted merriment of the moment didn't last, though; the smile fell from the king's face, which looked to take on several years of age in a few minutes, his eyes tired and regretful.

"What happened in the Dragons Realms? Where did it all go wrong?"

A cold silence filled the sandbank, with only the sound of the rushing waters of the river and the distant sounds of animal life throughout the plains to fill it.

Spyro didn't say a word as he sat at the edge of the river, the fire in his eyes cooling to a weak glimmer as he stared into the water with an unreadable expression. His wings sagged against his sides as his eyes met those within his own reflection, as if staring at another Safi'jiiva on the opposite side of the water. A long, thrumming groan rumbled up from his chest as he lifted his right hand and reached out to the water's surface, poking the image of himself with a single claw.

The ripples spread from the point of contact, distorting the water, and only confirming that his reflection was only that: his reflection...his image...him.

A creature forsaken by his own kind.

"The first dragons we introduced him to with were the Peacekeepers." Zoe said with a hollow voice, as if numbly reading off a written script, all the while watching her dragon with sorrowful pity. "They were the closest to the Elder Dragons of Primordia in terms of lifestyle, so we assumed they would be our best shot." She sadly shook her head. "We assumed too greatly. All the dragonesses of the realm rejected him, one by one, until we exhausted all possible candidates. Then the whole 'War of the Gnorcs' happened, and you know the rest of the story from there."

"Even those with wyrmlings of their own?" The Shimmerling Representative asked.

The dragon fairy snarled outright like a wild animal, bared teeth and all. "The ones with children were the most ferocious in doing so!" She snapped with spite. "They didn't want Spyro anywhere near them or their hatchlings! No matter how much we tried, no matter how well Spyro appealed to his own kind, they refused him at every nest!" She gave a heavy sigh and tried to calm herself, already feeling the effects of anger in her chest. "This continued throughout the rest of the realms: The Artisans, the Beastkeepers, the Magic-Crafters, hell, we even tried the Dream Weavers, for Akatosh's sake! But no one would take him...and it was obvious why."

"You must be exaggerating the severity of the reactions." The Grig Representative sniffed; Zoe could outright taste the smug doubt in his voice. "Yes, the previous Purple Safi'jiiva may have...left a mark of dragon history, but even then, would all of dragon-kind feel the same way towards a single wyrmling?"

"Agreed. The entirety of the realms couldn't have all shared a single animosity towards him; the Elemental Guardians of Warfang know him well enough to vouch for his moral heart." The Nixie Representative offered. "Surely at least one dragoness would've stepped forward with their blessing?"

"Exaggerating, am I?" Zoe growled dangerously. "Well then, would you all like to hear the new title they bestowed upon him during our little adventure?"

Spyro closed his eyes and lowered his head in defeat, not even bothering to brace himself for it; he had been called it so many times during the past ten years that its effect on him had faded into a dead numbness. Then, before Zoe even had a chance to say anything more, he spoke it himself:

"The Son of Malefor."

Dead. Silence.

Not a single word was spoken. Not a single sound was made. Even with his sharp draconian hearing, he couldn't even hear anyone take a single breath. No one dared to say anything. Zoe's face was cast in the shadow of her locks, hiding her eyes from view, her mouth set in a tight-lipped frown. While Avalon, the Unshakable Eladrin King of Feywild Forest, could only stare at the dragon in silent, wide-eyed horror.

It remained that way for a good minute that felt like an eternity.

Then Spyro simply stood up on all fours, turned away from the tree, and left without a sound. The others could only watch as the last of his tail slowly disappeared into the tall grass.

Only after they felt that he was out of hearing range did Avalon speak again. This time, his once strong and proud voice was hollow and shaken, his mind still reeling from the knowledge it had received.

"We will give him all the time you need…" he said quietly, his own face downcast in defeated sorrow. "If there's an emergency, or if he heads into Rodentkin lands, contact us. Until then, we won't bother him any further...I'm sorry...I truly am sorry."

"…Thank you." Was all Zoe could bring herself to say.

The last thing she saw in the spell was the king of the fair folk sinking wearily into his throne, lifting a hand to cover his face in grief, before the image dissolved back into a flurry of pixie dust. She didn't say anything as she caught the Speaking Crystal before it could fall to the ground below; she stared at it in her hand, unsure whether to smash it against a large rock, chuck it into the river, or just break down and scream her emotions to the world then and there.

In the end, she slipped it back into her skirt pocket before sliding herself out of the tree, taking to the sky to follow after her dragon.