Chapter 6: The Giver of the Forest
Artisans—Town Square
Spyro and Sparx blazed down the icy streets, honing into Town Hall. Elora was outside hanging streamers on the lampposts.
"Yo, Elora!" Spyro called. "Can we—AGHHH!"
His paw had come down on a patch of ice. The dragon slipped and fell, hurtling along the ground like a curling stone. Elora quickly stepped aside.
CRASH!
"Ugghhhh," Spyro groaned. There was nothing like saying hello by almost impaling her again.
"Hi, Spyro! Do you need help?" Elora asked, since his horns were imbedded into Town Hall's doors.
"Yeah...I'm like stuck, stuck."
She took him by the shoulders, noting, "You're really warm."
"Zzt, I bet." Sparx said with a grin. "That's because he's embarrassed you had to see that."
Spyro rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks for pointing it out. On the count of three, Elora, okay? One…two…three—!"
They both pulled hard. Spyro grit his teeth, startled. It felt like she was going to pull his shoulders out of their sockets! He popped free and fell back on his rear.
"So, what were you saying?" asked Elora, suddenly flanking him from the front.
"Well, uh," Spyro began awkwardly. "I was…we were rushing over here to see what you'd done with the place. Didn't mean to almost take you out, though."
"Okay! You have good timing."
"Not good balance, though," Sparx added before taking off. Spyro leaped up and chased him a full block down, threatening to singe the tips of his wings off.
Spyro was astounded. "Elora, this is…"
Many warm colors decorated hall in banners, curtains, streamers, and tablecloths. There were dozens of oaken round tables with specific seating arrangements for each dragon family. At the front of the hall was a great stage, over which a fantastic painting was displayed—a watercolor of multicolored dragonflies numbering in the hundreds, all of them pouring from a golden vase held by a silhouette of a great, white-eyed dragon. Dozens of giant, vibrant gems hovered below the ceiling. They were currently inert, but when Sparx curiously flew up and made contact with one it lit up brightly, emanating waves of magic light.
Spyro's mouth hung open. He couldn't help it. He faced Elora, who had her arms behind her back as she stared intently at the stage.
"Elora…you planned this all out yourself?"
"Noooo, I had plenty of help. Cosmos with the gems, and all the Peace Keepers made and brought in those heavy tables. See the pedestal up on the stage? Delbin and Nils are coming with a statue."
"But like, this was still, all of this was designed by you, right?"
"Well…yes," she admitted.
"It's so awesome, Elora. I just can't believe it," Spyro said, revolving on the spot in awe. Once he completed the turn he just looked back at her, still at a loss for words. She put a hand over her mouth, trying not to giggle.
"Hey! Want to see our table?" she asked.
It was dead center. Excited, Spyro hopped onto his chair that was just right for his size. It even had his name carved in it. Around the table were spots for his friends, of course: Elora, Hunter, and Bianca, and the Professor. There were also the names of others that had helped save a new generation of dragons—there were spots for Sheila, Sergeant Byrd, Bentley, and Agent Nine.
Sparx hovered over the table, scanning. "Heeeeey, where's my chair?" he whined.
"You don't have a butt," Spyro told him.
"I...pffft!" Elora sputtered out a laugh as she sat down. "I have it, Sparx. It's just so little I wanted to keep it out of the way until the Festival. I was afraid of forgetting it was there and accidentally breaking it."
"Oh, I was just kidding," Sparx cried. "You're the best, Elora."
She smiled politely. "The others from the Forgotten Realms are still coming, right? I had to remind the Professor yesterday. I think I'll have to be doing that until the day of…"
"Oh, yeah! They decided they'll be arriving on the Festival, too. Mainly 'cause of Bentley. He insisted they let us do all our preparations first," Spyro said. "Uh, he definitely did not phrase it like that, but I can't remember his exact words. He didn't want them getting in a dragon's way."
Elora looked down at the table. "I can understand that."
Spyro noticed her change in mood, but before he could ask what was wrong she spoke up again.
"So where's, um…your sister?"
"Huh?"
"You know?" Elora looked at him, puzzled. "Cynder."
"Oh! Uh, not here," Spyro blathered, tapping his claws on the table. "She was having too much fun at Dragon Shores, so I left'er there…!"
Sparx was up above, activating all of the gems one-by-one. Both Elora and Spyro suddenly seemed interested in this.
"…so, I was thinking," Elora began. "Since I'm just about done setting up, do you want to get together?"
"Like to hang out?"
"Yes. I, um…have something to tell you. In private."
"Uhhh…"
"Well, I guess it's more like show you. I can tell you now," Elora said awkwardly, shifting her hooves. "It has something to do with, uh…you remember when we were talking with Argus earlier, right?"
"Yeah. So it has something to do with back home, or something?"
She paused, twiddling her fingers. "I wouldn't consider it home anymore. So let's just call it my birthplace. You won't believe this, Spyro, but...I have some armor."
"Cool! Armor to like, fight in?"
"Yes. It's armor we're supposed to use to hunt and...kill dragons."
Spyro involuntarily spit out a gout of fire, thankfully not setting anything on fire. Elora dropped her head.
"Like you probably guessed, my people don't like dragons," she muttered. "My father did. Or does. So, as you can imagine, no one liked him because he loves dragons. I guess that kinda rubbed off on me. And, well…"
She lost steam and trailed off, staring at the wall.
"…he did train me when I was younger. He had military experience. People thought it was strange he was teaching me what he had learned…how to kill dragons. But obviously, it wasn't really like that. He trained me to protect dragons. I don't think people back at home realized that until the both of us fled the country.
"But I left with him willingly, because I shared his opinions and his obsessions. That's…probably why I was his favorite daughter," Elora said with a sad smile.
"You have siblings?" Spyro asked, shocked.
"Mhm, two other sisters, Eva and Elice. My mother is still around. Things did boil to a tension in my family before we left. I try writing to them on occasion, but I never hear back. So…" Elora traced a finger on the table. "I stopped that."
"What about your dad?"
"I'm really not sure. It's been years since we got separated in Avalar, but I do receive letters from him. He went off to chase another fantasy of his. But at least I know he's alright."
"Aw, man, but he should…"
"No, no, it's…it's fine. He gave me everything I needed and taught me well. How to survive. I miss him, but I don't hate him." Elora sighed. "I just wish he didn't have tunnel vision."
"But is there something wrong? I mean, you just told me and I hear you, but…"
"It's my own insecurities creeping up. I really shouldn't have them."
"Did something specific happen to cause that?"
"Well, yes," Elora spoke carefully. "And, with the festival, and me about to be around entire dragon families makes me anxious. I can't help but to re-realize I'm not exactly fitting in, here."
"Aw, that's okay. I get it. I hope you feel better," Spyro said. "I can't remember if I've said this, but I literally couldn't imagine you not being here. You're around family."
She bowed her head even lower, rubbing at her eyes. "I know you mean it. Thanks."
Her voice shook. Spyro realized he had never seen her cry, or even pictured her ever doing so. It made a chunk of sour coal form in his chest.
"Yeah. Sure thing," he said casually, trying to keep his voice steady. "And I don't care what happened years ago between the fauns and the dragons. It has nothing to do with you. I don't care what anyone says. So, so…when did you wanna…?"
Sparx suddenly dropped into view, startling them. His big eyes were wide and panicked.
"What, what's the matter?" Spyro asked. Elora glanced up at the windows.
"I swear I'm seeing things. I'm totally seeing things out the corner of my eye," Sparx said. "Also, isn't it getting really cold in here?"
"No…" Spyro said slowly, raising an eye ridge.
"Forget it, then. It's just me."
Sparx bobbed away, going to inspect the picture of the dragonflies. Spyro hummed in suspicion.
"I've gotta keep my eye on him," he muttered. "What, uh…what were you saying, again?"
"You were the one talking last," Elora reminded him with a smile. "Probably about a time for you to come over? What about now?"
She stood. He gaped.
"Like, right now?" asked Spyro.
"Well duh, of course," Elora said lightly, putting her arms behind her back. "When did you think, after the festival? Besides…I need to get this over with before I lose my nerve."
"Oh, shoot, okay! Yeah."
Spyro hopped to the ground, flinching when a terrible shiver ran down his spine. His scales tingled.
What was that?! he thought. Was that a draft?
Maybe he was imagining it, but Elora may've looked a little uncomfortable too. A thought hit him and he immediately forgot about the odd moment.
"Hey, hey, hey! You go on ahead back home, Elora. I'll bring food and we can have a picnic!"
"Sounds nice," she said.
Sparx zipped in between them. "Yeah, count me in."
"Third wheeler," Spyro ribbed.
"You hatch this morning or something? I'm saying count me in on picking the targets we're gonna raid for food, not the actual picnic itself, oh mauve one."
"Yeah, suuuure…"
Elora giggled at their nonsense. The three of them raced out of Town Hall. One could have been fooled thinking the place of future celebration was empty.
Cynder crept out from underneath the center table, curling her tail around Spyro's chair. Her eyes were burning bright and green, roiling with fury.
An hour later…
Avalar—Blush Forest
Spyro flew out of the portal, almost tripping over the large picnic basket in his mouth. The plum-colored canopies of Blush Forest greeted him. There was a pinkish tint to the air and the sweet smell of wildflowers drifted into his nose.
It was warm and sunny. A large white cloud hung over the immediate area, but Spyro didn't think too much of it at first. He trotted through the forest corridor, moseying down a path cradled by trees whose branches formed arches over his head.
Elora's house wasn't far, yet there were already deviations in the path. Spyro traveled as the crow flew, picking up his pace as he ran up the tall hillside. His eyes were naturally inclined towards the sky and he realized something.
Being a dragon, he was used to the scent of smoke being in his nostrils. It was to a point where he only noticed when he hyper focused on it, but this wasn't his own smoke he was picking up on. In the sky were clouds, billowing miles high. In that terrible moment he realized they were clouds of smoke.
He dropped the basket, sending food tumbling back down the hill as he charged off. When he reached the top his knees went weak and he almost collapsed.
Down at the bottom of the hill, in the middle of a small clearing, was a small cottage. It was completely wreathed in flames, burning into the high heavens.
"ELORA!"
