Chapter 1: Cynder's Story
"Uh, I don't think I heard right," Spyro said, gaping. "Run that under my wings again?"
Cynder looked surprised. Elora slid down the grassy embankment to join them. "I heard that she's your sister," the faun said frankly. "Does this ring any bells by chance?"
Spyro slowly craned his head over, looking at her in endless amazement. Cynder's smile was minute and brief.
"That is like, uh HUUUGE no. I mean, for all my dragon days I thought I was an only child," Spyro exclaimed, starting to pace. "I don't…no one even—how didn't I—?"
"How do you know this?" Elora asked more elegantly. Cynder lowered herself close to the ground, staring at them ruefully.
"Cynder...Cynder, right? C'mon," Spyro spoke up. "You can't bust out with something like that and not explain. Like…how did you find this out? Where have you been?"
He moved closer, inadvertently blocking Elora from Cynder's sight; the black dragon became more comfortable speaking as a result.
"I don't know if…you believe in certain things," Cynder began quietly. "Like…discernment. Future presenting itself to those in the past…"
"Yeah, I heard'a that. Some dragons around here can know or predict the future sometimes. Are you like that, too?"
"I guess. I mean…"
Cynder slowly rose to her feet, staring at the ground. "I…I found out in a dream," she said quietly. "I felt a strong presence when I was asleep and…I believe that it was my ancestors who came to me to tell me everything. That I had a sib—um, a brother. And more than that."
"More than…?"
"More than what…concerns you. I'm sure they were trying to give me answers to what I'd always wondered myself. I was raised in the north, by a mountain-dwelling race…I thought I was the only dragon there ever was. But in my dream…I also found out I was forcibly separated from my generation of eggs…"
"EGG THIEVES!" Spyro erupted, making her jolt. "Oh, sorry—there's a TON of them around here!"
She gazed at him carefully. "Thieves?"
"Yeah. They're quick and persistent and just love to steal dragon eggs," Spyro said irately, whipping his tail along the ground. "…Agh! I bet that's exactly what happened to you!"
"Maybe."
Cynder didn't seem convinced, or all that interested.
"It makes the most sense. And I heard they have networks all over, even out past the Dragon Realms," Spyro explained. "How far north did you live?"
"As far as you can go on this continent…I come—came from—"
"Heaven's Peaks?" Elora cut in unexpectedly.
Cynder shied back, startled. "Y…Yes. Exactly there." She darted her eyes back to Spyro. "So, um…how do the thieves move?"
"Fast and furious. They're like roaches. I hate them." Spyro groaned.
"Okay…I've never seen one before. They might have stolen my egg…I don't really want to talk about it." Cynder said, looking down at her front paws.
"It's just that I…ah, okay, okay. Never mind."
Although Spyro believed her, something came across his mind as he studied her appearance again.
"I can't really see a resemblance," Elora said lightly, unknowingly speaking for the both of them. "You both look like completely different dragons. Then again, we don't even know what your parents look like."
"Yes. Right. It's why…I came here, when I found out what I did. To…see if maybe it was true, and…that you at least existed...brother." Cynder muttered. "It looks like some of it was true. I can't control my dreams. Or what they tell me…it's the only way I even knew Spyro's name and exactly where he lived."
"Hey, no worries. I got you. That's too cool to hear," Spyro said. He extended a wing as a friendly gesture, but Cynder backed away wearily, asking, "What…are you doing?"
"It's, uh, another way to say hi."
"Kind of like shaking hands," Elora added.
Cynder dragged herself closer to Spyro, slowly extending a wing to his. Their wingtips only touched briefly before she pulled hers back.
"Yep! Just like that," Spyro complimented.
"Sorry…I've never been around other dragons," Cynder mumbled.
"That's okay. Let's try to fix that! I mean…hah, if we're siblings, I wouldn't want you, to, you know. Be fearful all the time," Spyro said cordially. "Is that something you would want to change? I can't think of what it's like to not be around other dragons for your whole life."
She thought a moment, then nodded. "I…think. As long as they're kind."
"Oh, easy. I…wah?" Spyro asked, when Elora tapped him and pointed up. Two winged shapes, one stormy blue and one verdant green, were watching them from the top of the hill. One of them nudged the other, speaking lowly.
"Toldja I saw something, Nestor..." Bubba said. "Maybe if you weren't so busy worrying..."
"And for a good reason, but we can talk about that later." Nestor responded. He was normally even tempered and stoic, but had worn a frown for most of the eclipse. He smiled genuinely at the new dragon as they came down to meet her, however.
"Hi, there! Your train come a little late?" Bubba greeted. Cynder made herself smaller, tucking her tail and flattening her wings to her sides.
Nestor addressed her with his usual gentleness. "It's alright. You're safe here."
"Okay," she whispered. "Who are you?"
"My name is Nestor. I'm the leader of the Artisan lands. This is Bubba, my close friend. You've surely met Spyro and Elora."
"Yeah, just barely! Hey Nestor, do I have any other siblings I don't know about?!" Spyro asked.
Nestor and Bubba balked, then looked at each other.
"Cynder!" Spyro faced her excitedly. "C'mon, tell 'em what you said!"
Cynder pulled her wings forward and cowered behind them.
"You're putting way too much heat on her, Spyro." Elora whispered to him. "You tell them!"
"Oh, oops!" Spyro exclaimed. When he explained to both adults what he had learned, Bubba was pleasantly surprised while Nestor seemed uncharacteristically dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry to hear this," Nestor said to Cynder. "And I had no idea about Spyro possibly having a sister."
"Well, what can you said about a dragon's discernment, eh?" Bubba asked, folding his arms. "Hearing from the ancestors is an extraordinary thing! It happens to Dream Weavers the most, and even then it's just on the occasion for them. I don't know about you and your abilities young lady, but…"
Cynder was curious and puzzled, now revealing more of her face; she looked fearful. "Wh-What is a 'Dream Weaver'?"
"Our clan is separated into several factions," Nestor explained. "Dream Weavers are distinct for watching over the dreams of other dragons. One of their greater strengths is discernment and tapping into the world of aether. But, they're usually content with helping their fellow dragons out by helping them fall asleep or by correcting sleeping patterns. They can also alleviate or control the nightmares of others."
"Really?"
"Yeah! I can't tell you the amount of nights I've had where I slept better because of them," Spyro told her. "Copano makes really good cookies and tea, and then you toss in Unika's music? I'm telling you, you're going off to dreamland."
"This is interesting. Unexpected, but not impossible," Nestor said solemnly, stroking his chin. "I'll believe you. How are you faring, little one? You've spent so long without being around another dragon…have you at least got a dragonfly?"
"What is a dragonfly?" Cynder asked. Everyone almost fell over.
"Whoa!" Spyro exclaimed. "Not even that?"
"Yes…I mean, no. Is that strange?"
Bubba said, "It's all too important. It's a need for young dragons to have dragonfly partners for the first part of their lives. I don't really know the math or science behind it—"
"Because there is no math or science involved," Nestor cut in, obviously ribbing.
"Whatever!" Bubba laughed. "My point is, us dragons have a special connection with dragonflies. For youngsters they're your lifeline, really. Sounds like a horror story to not have one, but you seem healthy. How about that?"
Cynder looked down at herself, thinking. "I don't feel any sort of way…but, it has always felt like I was missing something. Or someone. Maybe this is why."
"How well can you breath fire, or fly?" asked Nestor.
"I'm...fair at fire-breathing. I'm much better at flying," Cynder said confidently, standing a little straighter. "I flew…most of the distance here."
Nestor nodded, very impressed. "That's far past the point of remarkable. And it makes sense. Treacherous as they are, mountainous regions are the best places for a young dragon to build strength in their wings. And your balance? Have you tried standing upright, on your hind legs?"
Cynder's eyes widened slightly. She'd just noticed the adult dragons were standing that way.
"I…I didn't know dragons could do that," she said, in a wavering voice. "I can...do that?"
Spyro grumbled, sitting heavily to his rear. "Well, it's harder when you're our age."
"Can you stand up, Spyro?" Cynder asked him.
"Yeah. Only for a little bit at a time, though."
"It's perfectly fine. You usually don't start getting a good handle on that until you've hit your mid-to-late teens. You both are a little too disproportionate now," Nestor said kindly. "Cynder, was it?"
"Yes, sir," she said.
"You can consider this place your home if you like. I know you came to put your dreams to rest, but whatever you decide to do next, just let any of us know if you need help."
"Hey, but it'll get hectic here, soon," Bubba warned. "The Dragonfly Festival and all."
"That's true. We have over one hundred dragonlings that need to be aquatinted with their dragonflies," Nestor said, then chuckled, rolling his eyes. "As you can imagine, that means things will be busy and probably be a source of culture shock for you."
"Oh…that's fine." Cynder said shyly. "I won't get in your way. I…would like to see what happens…"
"Sure! We're planning to have the celebration here in the Artisan lands, over in Town Square," Spyro said, ecstatic. "Sparx is my best friend and a dragonfly. We live here in Stone Hill. If you want, you can crash with us, sis."
Cynder's eyes turned big and watery.
"Uhhh. Really," Spyro said casually, sitting and scratching behind his head. "It's no big deal."
"Well, there's an idea," Nestor said suddenly. "Spyro, I'll leave you in charge of getting Cynder up to speed with things here for now. You'll have the time and energy. Elora, what do you think?"
Elora awkwardly put her arms behind her back, shrugging. "Oh, don't mind me. I don't have a voice here."
Surprised, Spyro asked, "Hey, why say that?"
"Well, I'm not a dragon."
"That doesn't matter, Elora. Besides, you hang around here so much you may as well be one," he joked.
She laughed. "Spyro, I'm going to be busy setting up for the festival, remember? And babysitting when I'm not doing that, sleeping or eating."
"Oh, yeah," he said in remembrance. "Yeah, that's true. Ignore me. Hey, Cynder…I can show you some mountains. That sound good?"
"Yes," she answered, perking slightly and lifting a paw. "I would like that. Where are they?"
"In the Magic Crafters, further up north. You actually should've passed 'em on your way here."
"I didn't."
Nestor's brows jumped up.
"What, took the long way around? I guess you like the challenge." Spyro teased, grinning at her. "...I can't fly like you, so I have to take the balloon. You can jump in too, or fly behind it, it doesn't matter."
"Okay...lead the way. I'll follow you wherever you go."
Spyro glanced around. Elora was quietly hiking back up the slope, clearly trying not to attract attention to herself.
"Elora, you don't at least want to come with us now? Just for a bit?" Spyro wondered.
"Nope!" she said, stopping and looking down his way with a smile. "This should be time for you and your sister, you know. You just met her!"
Spyro dropped his wings, disappointed. "Aw, okay. Well then, I guess we can go ahead and take wing, Cynder. I gotta lot to show you!"
"That's great," Cynder said coolly, staring daggers at the faun. "That's...very great."
