Chapter 15: Chain Reaction
"Part of me wants justice for this. Part of me wants to never cause harm to another."
- Ken Scholes
Of all the crazy things Sparx had seen in his life, he had never seen Spyro the Dragon fall in combat, not even once.
And today, he had seen the impossible unfold before his eyes.
Time became a dawdling snail when the furless ape breathed a translucent, white something on his brother's muzzle and, in a fit of desperation and terror, strike that purple lump on his neck.
A flash of light.
Blinding. Obscuring.
One second Spyro had his jaws hovering above Baldie's neck, ready to make a kill neither he nor Miss Grouchy approved. In the next, Spyro was down, unconscious. Motionless. Blood leaked out of his brother's head, and even Sparx was afraid to approach the two.
"S, s-spuh, Spyro?" the dragonfly croaked. Sparx's voice drowned in the growing murmurs of the crowd. Horrified gasps broke around him. They proclaimed the furless ape a monster. They declared the Purple Dragon of Legend—his dear, beloved brother dead!
.
.
.
Dead!
As in finished. Gone forever. Returned to the Ancestors.
In a blink of an eye… or a flash of light.
Just, like, that.
"H, hey," Sparx moaned, a raspy cry coming out of his strangled lungs. "P-Purple Boy." The dragonfly's breath scrunched into the tightest of knots. It held his lungs hostage, and he found trouble breathing, found it difficult to say anything more than the haunted whisper of a ghost. "G-get up." He fluttered a little closer. A little higher. The sight of Spyro lying in a pool of his own blood quavered his tiny, golden body. "C, c'mon, bro. Stop putting on a show!"
Sparx's vision wavered—blurred when he focused on the unmoving purple scales. He circled around, albeit a little slowly, heart beating as he hovered in the air. The spike being rammed in his chest was so painful it felt like something tore at him, like two mean, heartless children had taken hold of his arms and put everything they had into prying him apart—splitting him in two.
And in a way, he was.
Sparx wanted to check on Spyro, yet he didn't want to see him. Not like this. "This, t-t-this better not be a joke, Spyro!" He barely heard his own voice over the rising din. Yet, to him, his words were the sharpest of all, so crisp and clear, he'd believe even Cynder heard him. "Damn it, you fat lump, you've gone through worse than this!" He balled his tiny, gold fists. "Get up. Get, up!"
Spirits, he'd never seen Spyro this pathetic. Never! Not in all the years he knew him. Nobody ever bested his brother in a fight, notwithstanding all the odds stacked up against him, and from the very beginning at that. Sparx remembered how inexperienced his brother had been seven years ago. A little child who lived as—who believed he was a gigantic dragonfly for years on end, and discovered the truth of his adoption on that one particular day he and Sparx had the bad luck to run into Apes scouring the swamplands, weeding out the last remnants of resistance.
He walked out of the swamp with nothing but the Fire Element in his arsenal—Spirits, fatso didn't even know he could fly! Until Ignitus taught him, Sparx himself didn't think ol' Chunky could fly with those wings; they looked so bulky and cumbersome relative to a nimble dragonfly's he expected Purple Boy to go splat the day he threw himself off a random cliff.
Since then, Spyro the Dragon faced apparently insurmountable challenges, one after another. The mountain he climbed grew steeper and steeper as they progressed. He rescued the Guardians. He liberated them from their prisons. He fought the tainted Terror of the Skies, chased a devastated Cynder across the Dragon Realms, and went up against King Gaul, a loyal servant of the Dark Master.
The orchestra that was Spyro's life approached its crescendo after three years of stasis in a crystal. It pushed him to the city of Warfang, to a clash with the Destroyer, and finally a climactic battle with Malefor himself.
Throughout every step of the way, up until the very end, Sparx flew beside his brother. Call him a coward for fleeing every instant they saw battle. Call him a weakling—a glorified lantern for contributing nothing whenever they found themselves exchanging blows with Apes, Grublins, and whatever minions the Dark Master employed. Call him a grump for never giving Cynder the benefit of the doubt she deserved, especially from someone so close to the Purple Dragon.
Sparx never cared about labels. Sparx stuck with Spyro because he was family. Because they grew up together. Because that fat lump was his brother. Because he was horribly naïve and idealistic. The dragonfly would never abandon family. He'd never abandon his brother.
He'd never understand why Spyro would ever treat someone who was actually approachable like a bloodthirsty monster. Sparx could not comprehend his executive decision to destroy Baldie, but he couldn't comprehend even more the fact the Purple Dragon of Legend had fallen, when he was surrounded by countless allies—when he faced just a single enemy who had zero control over his strange ability—who never fought back until his life came under threat!
"AHHHHHH!" Baldie clutched his head, screeching, tearing at his hair as though he'd slain his own god.
What irony! Who ever thought the day Spyro saw complete defeat was the day he went after a terrified, hairless ape who didn't want to fight him, whilst surrounded by allies on all sides and at the height of his power, his prime?
But the situation shot far over Sparx's head. For once, his snarky tongue lost all speech. He flew closer towards his brother, eyes engrossed by the pitiful way Spyro curled on the bloody grass. This was a new low for him. The lowest of the lows. Even the dragonfly thought this was something his fat brother would never climb back from.
Spyro's unconscious body whined and whimpered. He wheezed. As the seconds wore on, the golden insect saw—he swore he saw—Spyro the Dragon slowly but surely succumbing to the kiss of death. He was dying. Spirits, his brother was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
But what could he do anyway?
He was just a dragonfly! He didn't have brute strength. He didn't have any of those Elements the dragons prided themselves on. He wasn't even big enough to have a weapon of his own, a weapon sufficiently sized to make an impact when and where it counted the most. All he could do was fly around and be the cheerleader. Be the snarker who lifts up morale—a golden beacon of light for those who've lost the way.
An annoying pest for those who didn't need him.
A stupid, talking, glowing, good-for-nothing insect!
He was useless! What could he do to help Spyro? There was—
"NO!" Miss Grouchy had just processed the fallen body of her mate. She popped her wings open with a crack so loud Sparx's flight faltered from the way the air moved in their wake. "SPYRO!"
The dragonfly almost smiled at Cynder's display of concern and fury. For all the teasing and doubt Sparx heaved at her on a regular basis—for all the hours he spent imprisoned in her dark, foul mouth as a consequence for his badgering, drenched in dragon slobber and at the complete mercy of that evil, disgusting thing she called a tongue—he had to give the dragoness credit with one thing…
She loved that fat lump just as much as he did.
And a useless dragonfly, she was not.
"Cynder, wait!" Baldie begged. "Look, I can fix this. I can fix this! I swear! Remember what I did for Kilat—
Since the day Sparx met her—not the Malefor fangirl she'd been in the old days, but the guilt-stricken girl fresh from her curse—he had never seen the former general of the Dark Master bare her fangs with enough rage to match the cruel madness that made the Terror of the Skies infamous.
Cynder was livid, and Sparx approved. Joshua may not have wanted a fight with his brother—he may have desired peace, but in the end, he made that flash of light. He spat that white breath on his brother. The furless ape brought this upon himself.
"Don't kill me! Please, just give me a—
"A one-way ticket to Ape hell!" Sparx yelled at Joshua, tears almost flying out of his eyes. His respect for the black dragon grew as she opened the mouth he'd come to know intimately as punishment, and expelled the red spheres of the Fear Element. Sparx and Cynder have always had their differences in their relationship—oftentimes clashing, with Spyro normally their inadvertent mediator—but as far as the damned hoo-man was concerned, revenge was something they yearned together in unison right now.
Joshua would pay dearly for murdering Spyro in front of them.
Sparx expected the furless ape to react like the Grublins they fought during the final war. Cynder's Phantom Fright, among the most potent techniques granted to the Fear Element, tended to blow the hapless victim away, followed by temporary paralysis. Not long enough to be rendered useless in a gory battlefield of war, but long enough for someone with Cynder's speed to come in and slice him up.
Baldie closed his eyes at the last moment as the red orbs crashed into him. By some inexplicable law of physics, the impact threw the furless ape into the air and sent him sprawling to the ground. The black grouch barreled towards him regardless, her body language screaming righteous ire, squirming with bubbling, pent-up wrath.
Joshua rose from the ground, just like any other Grublin or Orc who'd fallen victim to the Fear breath in the last war. He quivered, just like all of them, unable to move, green eyes widening at her approach. "Don't…" He tried to step back, but found his feet rooted; Cynder had put enough Fear in her attack to overwhelm the hoo-man with her killing intent. "Don't kill me…"
She kept going, rabid snarls dismissing his pleas. Sparx didn't stop her, for, he too, wanted to see justice served.
In all the moments he spent watching from the sidelines, observing Spyro and Cynder tag-team their way from the Well of Souls to the city of Warfang and the lands beyond, he had never seen anyone do anything more than shudder in terror and wait for death.
So, under the effect of the Fear Element, Baldie was powerless to do anything but scream and die with his regrets of—
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
All hell broke loose.
White gas enveloped the furless ape. It cloaked him—obfuscated the hoo-man behind its opaque clouds. The same clouds that took Infernus by surprise. Knocked him out of the sky screaming in agony. "What the hell is that?" the dragonfly screamed.
Cynder stopped at the last moment and leaped back. She inhaled and spewed a massive gust of wind at the enshrouded ape. It did nothing but send small ripples across the white cloak. Joshua Renalia screamed in reply, and suddenly the white cloak became a stream. A lance of clouds billowing rapidly towards her.
Spyro's beloved mate rolled at once—narrowly eluding the unexpected retaliation at the last second—and all eyes watched the jet stream keep going… and strike the top of a small tree before dissipating into the air.
The whole tree withered on the spot.
Sparx clutched his head, grimacing. "Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh maaannnn!" But how—why did it—how could—no! He was just seeing things. That tree didn't just die after so much as being touched—grazed by that white stuff! He never heard of a magic spell that…
Spirits. Not even Malefor had the ability to dish out instant death. Convexity was a powerful thing—he'd seen Spyro and Cynder both employ it in the past and crush their opponents easily—but it never killed anything instantly.
"Ancestors!" Cynder mouthed, her words laced with fear. "What was that? How—
"I don't know!" Baldie screamed, his own no less terrified than the dragoness's. "I don't know I don't know I DON'T F*CKING KNOW!"
The Black Dragon growled. "I'm not letting that stop me!" She spread her wings and took to the skies, a gust of wind aiding her vertical takeoff. She spiraled in the air and plunged downwards, green globs of fluid flowing out of her maw, each one spat in his direction.
Baldie ogled the corrosive poison coming at him with dismay. "F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!" He raised his hands and wiggled it back and forth, in hopes of redirecting it as he'd done in the past. A shocking chill engulfed Sparx when he watched every glob respond to the Joshua's twitchy movements. He moved his hand left and a ball of poisonous spit flew away—far away—in the same direction. He moved his hand to the right, and the next one moved with it.
He did it again. And again. And again! And—
Sparx noticed one of them was headed right for him. "YAAAAHHHH!" the dragonfly screeched and whirled out of the way. It landed on the grass directly below him, and the green leaves quickly sizzled and dissolved. Had he been a couple seconds too late, he'd be melting down there with it. Yiiii! Who knew Miss Grouchy there could spit out something that bad?
Where did this perfect control come from? Just earlier the hoo-man barely managed to redirect Spyro's rocks and icicles and Infernus's fireballs! Now he was manipulating everything Cynder threw at him, as though he'd become a master of… a… a master of whatever this was all of a sudden.
Another splotch of poison spit landed close to Spyro—much too close for comfort—while one happened to fall on a city guard watching the chaos unfold. "Ancestors!" he cried immediately. He rushed to get his armor off, flailing around the crowd of brave citizens and fellow soldiers, arms struggling to get the clasps of his armor. "Help me get it off! Help me. Help!"
Cognizant of the collateral damage, Cynder ceased her attacks. She flapped her wings. Dual blasts of Wind resulted from the movement, propelling her higher before that white cloak had a chance to appear again. The dragoness soared across the skies, doing nothing. Sparx would have yelled at the grouch for it had he failed to see the deep, angry scowl on her muzzle.
The bystanders—guards and citizens alike—still stood by, unable to figure out a way to assist the only other Savior of the Dragon Realms.
"Goddammit!" Joshua screamed at her. "God-f*cking dammit! Cynder, why're you trying to kill me?" He flexed one of his fingers at the Purple Dragon's corpse. "I—
"You killed him!" Cynder replied, her voice drowned in a cocktail of grief and madness. "You killed my mate! Ancestors, and you still have the nerve to ask why I want to kill you?"
"But Spyro's STILL alive! That's what I've been trying to tell you! Mother of God, please, I beg you, stop this f*cking bullshit and let me help!" Emerald spheres glanced at Purple Boy. "I know I can fix this. Just give me a chance, before he really—
"You're lying!" she hollered at him. "I never should've given you the benefit of the doubt, human!" Cynder, living up to her old reputation as the Terror of the Skies, dove at Joshua for the second time, her descent assisted by a shroud of Wind both eliminating all air resistance and increasing her speed. The attack would kill the furless ape if it connected.
"No!" His eyes ensnared in perpetual anxiety, Joshua Renalia raised his quivering hands. "No! I'm not—don't do this. I didn't mean to hurt him!"
The dragoness drowned out his voice, snarling at him. A terrifying growl that frightened even Sparx. He had never seen Cynder this enraged.
"I never wanted to hurt Spyro. He's my—AAAGGGHHHH!" The boy screamed as he watched her bring all nine of her horns down on him. Twin portals of white light quickly formed within his raised hands.
That's when a tiny, anxious voice in Sparx's head decided to speak: Joshua still had no control over his power. Because the Fear Element still coursed through the hoo-man powerfully, exacerbating an already-elevated state of anxiety and emotion.
Every horrific thing Joshua accomplished here was a result of his fear.
Thus, the stronger he feared for his life, the more his terrible power responded.
In all the years he's known the grouchy hag Spyro fell in love with, Sparx never thought the day would come when he, too, cared enough to bother helping her. "CYNDER, LOOK OUT! Turn shadow, quick!"
The dragoness snapped to reality at Sparx's warning. She sent a look of disbelief at him for a moment—shock at his snap decision to help her for once—before recognizing the telltale signs of attack forming around Joshua's hands. She glowered and slipped into an airborne pool of black, tangible smoke as beams of light shot out from the two spheres floating in the hoo-man's hands.
The thick, goopy smoke dropped to the ground right as they tore through the Shadow Element, extinguishing it.
Oh man, Cynder couldn't do this alone! She really needed help. But how could a tiny, useless dragonfly like him help her with—Wait a minute!
Spirits, didn't Baldie say Spyro was still alive?
Fatso could still be saved?
A small ember of hope stoked in Sparx's heart, and for a moment, his exoskeleton glowed brighter. The loquacious insect decided to take matters to his own hands. His brother depended on him. He couldn't let him down. Not now, when he stood on the brink of death.
"Hey!" he buzzed, circling around a group of guards standing by, watching the spectacle between Joshua and the other Savior. "Hey, you! I need your help!"
A mole among the group noticed him. "What is it, dragonfly?"
Sparx gestured to the Purple Dragon of Legend. "Spyro's alive," he said. "We need to bring him inside and get him help. We can still save him!" He pointed at Joshua, watching the pool of shadow underneath him intently—warily. "And Cynder needs your help. She can't take down that Ape alone!"
One of the two dragons in the group—an adolescent Electric dragon—frowned upon hearing the dragoness's name. He opened his snout to rebut Sparx's request, but the dragonfly had had enough of this discrimination. That's what got them into this mess in the first place and if the guards themselves couldn't set aside their personal feelings then there was just no way they'd be able to resolve this and help that fat lump in time. "Shut up!" he said, slamming his fist into the dragon's sensitive nose. "My brother is dying over there and his mate's the only one trying to keep us all safe from that, that, t-that hoo-man menace! I don't care if you hate her, but right now she needs all the help we can give. If that means getting Spyro out of here and making sure Cynder kills that furless ape, then let's do it. Don't just stand around here! Stop this crap and help before someone else dies."
The dragon steeled himself, standing attentively on all fours. "Yes, sir," he complied obediently, lapsing into instincts beaten into him through intense training and rigorous drills.
He fluttered in front of the group. "You, you, and you," Sparx said, identifying three moles. "Help Cynder." The two dragons and the other larger guards would just get in the way, he figured.
"Everyone else, let's go help Purple Boy!" The large group of city soldiers broke off from the main body hard at work stopping the civilians from "helping out" and finding themselves in over their heads. As Sparx led the entire group from the vanguard, a nonplussed expression of disbelief settled on his face for a moment.
Did he just take on a leadership role back there? Did he really just take charge and demanded their help? Him? A useless, golden lantern? Who could only talk and annoy everyone around him?
He glimpsed at the pack of courageous, armored guardsmen following him. A group comprised of atlawas, moles, cheetahs, and a couple dragons… all under his command? Him? A miniscule dragonfly?
Was this how it felt to be Spyro or Cynder? To be the Guardians? Was this how it felt to be treated with respect and reverence?
A smile spread on Sparx's face. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all, Sparx old boy. I'll never let ol' Chunky live this down.
Such buoyancy evaporated as they approached Spyro's body. He gulped, apprehensive. He was not used to the sight of his adopted brother lying down in a pitiful and helpless heap, for the few times he had seen Spyro the Dragon fall unconscious resulted from the Chronicler's meddling rather than anything related to whatever went on in real life.
.
.
.
"Great crowd, huh?" Sparx quipped on the Skavenger ship. "I wonder if I can get 'em to do the wave…"
"Well done," squawked the orange parrot, flapping its reptilian wings. "well done, indeed." The reptavian gestured at the pre-adolescent Spyro. "Step forward, little dragon, and receive your glory."
The Purple Dragon raised his leg to take a step. Suddenly his eyes closed without warning and the child swooned. Nary had a sound came out of him, let alone a whisper or a telltale wheeze.
A purple parrot leaned out towards young Spyro, his left eye squinting at him. "You waiting for someone to move for you, boy?" A visible pout appeared on his beak. "Don't just stand there. This is no puppet show!"
Sparx resisted the urge to facepalm. "Oh no, not again!"
In the back of his mind, he knew something was happening to his brother behind the scenes. When Spyro blacked out at the Ancient Grove, Sparx noticed instantly how he had reclaimed his power over Ice when he woke up. Every time he fainted, he would wake up with another of his abilities unlocked and ready for use. But at the time, Spyro, obsessing over Cynder, had not bothered fully explaining these fainting spells to Sparx, let alone his interactions with the Chronicler. He passed it off instead as voices in his head, elucidating no further.
Not until after the War.
"Don't worry!" Sparx flew forward. Spyro was going to wake up a more powerful and stronger dragon after this, but he had to make sure nobody touched his body while he slept and somehow unlocked his abilities in La La Land. "There's nothing to see here! It's all under control…"
.
.
.
But today was different.
Spyro's fall today obviously had nothing to do with the Chronicler. Back then, every time he fell, Sparx would find a peaceful expression on his muzzle every time he came close. A nice and relaxing sleep, however inopportune the aged historian tended to be.
Today, Sparx discovered a pained, agonized grimace. His teeth were laid bare for the dragonfly to see, provided Sparx could stomach the sight of all the blood streaking out of every hole on Spyro's head. He truly looked like he was dying.
If—no, when he woke up from this, he wouldn't wake up and find himself a stronger dragon, with another Element, another overpowered ability in his treasure chest of powers. He'd wake up to be alive. Injured—gravely injured at that, but alive.
We need to do something, Sparx thought, as he and the guards formed a circle around the fallen dragon. There was no way they were letting Baldie get near his brother again! So now what? What can we do to…
One of the guards started, "We need to move him—
"Duuuuhhhh," Sparx chided, rolling his eyes. "I knew that. But how? I don't know what Baldie did to Savior Boy here. I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life if we end up killing him by accident!" Not to mention what Cynder would do to him if she found out about it. The best thing he could think of was spending the rest of his waking life in her mouth. There was no telling how else she'd punish him. A damn evil-psycho-she-dragon was always a damn evil-psycho-she-dragon.
"Uhm, errrrr…."
Another soldier pointed at a nearby tree. At the one-winged dragoness slumped beneath it. "Hey, the child that Ape's brainwashed is still there."
"We need to move her too," suggested a third guard. "I've seen her fight. She's a prodigy. We can't let him take control again."
Sparx looked around and selected two atlawas at random. "You and you, pick her up and get her out of here!"
"Yes, sir." The guards nodded and left.
"Anyone here with medical experience?" drawled Spyro's brother. "You know, like a dragon doctor? I want to move Spyro too like the rest of you, but I don't want to take any chances with my brother until—
A shrill scream interrupted whatever he had to say.
Sparx whipped his line of sight to the left, where the clash between a terrified Joshua and an increasingly frustrated Cynder magnified, fast approaching its climax. The black dragoness finally reappeared, emerging from a cloud of black, thick smoke behind the hoo-man. Her tail lashed out for a kill; Joshua surprised the dragonfly once again, ducking before the sharp blade on Cynder's tail sliced through his neck. It was as though the furless ape had eyes in the back of his head!
Baldie yelled out of fright, turning towards the dragoness with all the timidity and cowardice of a child. Tears fell as he struggled to speak, to entreat. Yet all his words bubbled out as incomprehensible, insane gibberish. Sparx, however, noticed the white mist forming around his mouth. Another white breath! He had to warn Cynder—
She needed no assistance. The other Savior of the Dragon Realms glimpsed the oncoming threat and acted accordingly. She dug her feet into the ground and inhaled deeply, letting it all out in a lurid, strident scream. A red burst flashed from her body, striking the hoo-man a split-second before the white breath took shape and assaulted her. Sparx recognized this instantly as a variant of the Siren Scream, subjecting victims in close proximity to their greatest, most pressing fears. But to everyone else, it was merely an ear-splitting shriek. Astonishing, but hardly dangerous at all.
Joshua Renalia stood there, dazed. "W-where am I?" Eyes dilating from the hallucinations surely running through his addled mind. "W-w-w-w-what's going on? Damn it all, how did I—oh shit. Mom? Dad?"
Cynder, former Terror of the Skies, bared her sharp teeth at the hoo-man—every single one of them, a little yellowed and foul. She rose on her hind legs, rearing her right foreleg for a killing blow strong enough to knock the furless ape's head clean off his shoulders.
A voice of alarm interrupted her. "Malefor!"
Cynder hesitated at the name. She ogled her vulnerable prey. "W-wha…?"
"No!" Joshua Renalia visibly stepped back from Cynder, his gaze directed at her—no, directed through her, as though the Dark Master himself towered far above Spyro's mate. "Why are you here?" He shook his head. "Spyro and Cynder trapped you in the planet's core!" He gazed at an empty spot on the ground. Whatever he saw made him choke. "And… a-and, and how… how did you—
Sparx was dumbfounded. Trapped him? How did he—that wasn't supposed to be public knowledge! That was classified, top-secret information! Kept only between the two Saviors, Sparx, and the three Guardians.
He gawped at Cynder. "Cursing Cynder again? For the third time? You f*cking bastard!" snarled Joshua, teeth chattering—knees clicking together in fright. Beads of water cascaded down his head; his entire body quavered fully with the knowledge he was dead if he didn't do anything. "Goddammit, how far do you have to go before you're satisfied ruining everyone's lives?"
Wait.
Sparx did a double-take.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. WAIT.
Cynder had been cursed again?
AGAIN? No! That was wrong. How could—when did the Dark Master mess with Cynder? They freed her seven years ago, didn't they? She couldn't have been cursed a second time after Hunter and the Grublins released all three of them from the Time Crystal.
Sparx hollered at the grouchy she-dragon, petrified to the spot. "Yo, Cyn! Don't listen to him! He's tricking you. Baldie knows he's seeing things. He knows it's you and he's—
The haunted mien on her muzzle silenced the dragonfly. Spirits. It's true. Holy balls, it's true!
But they never told him.
Fatboy and Psycho kept it to themselves. Oh man, they never said anything about their trips into the Burned Lands, didn't they? If he remembered right, they mentioned Ignitus's heroic sacrifice quickly and concisely, embellished the climactic final battle, and narrated the story of Spyro and Cynder standing together at the literal end of the world.
"HOLY SHIIIIIIIT!" Baldie torqued on the spot and flung himself out of the way of an imaginary attack, his own eyes deluding him into believing the Dark Master had begun every effort to exterminate him.
He glanced at the stunned Cynder. What was he seeing? "I'm sorry. I can't do anything for you now," he said. "Ah! The Guardians! I need to find 'em pronto. They'll know what to do." He gulped. "Provided they're even here."
The hoo-man broke off into a sprint, indescribable trepidation emblazoned on his primate face. He zigzagged as he dashed closer, towards the city, towards Spyro's body as well as Sparx and his ensemble of guards. Several times he sent fleeting glances over his shoulder. Damn it, what was he seeing? He nearly barreled into the three moles Sparx had sent to assist Cynder—almost charged straight into a waiting blade.
"F*ck me!" cried the furless ape. He made his best attempt to squeeze past the three city guards, but one raised his sword and sent the weapon flying downwards. It sliced Joshua's shoulder clean, and he tumbled to the grass screaming.
Before they could do anything else, the white cloak appeared from thin air and obscured him from sight. All three moles jumped back, remembering what had happened to the tree the thick clouds touched.
Barely a second passed before Joshua emerged from the clouds. "NO! I'M NOT DYING HERE!" A hand gripped a mole by the face. The sight of the poor guard shriveling into decay and the serious wound regenerating before his very eyes rendered Sparx speechless.
The second mole roared a battle cry and brandished his sword with the intent to thrust into his neck. "Goddamn f*cking grublins!" Joshua pummeled the man on the snout. "Get the f*ck away from me!"
Another white flash. Followed by a stream of white clouds engulfing his third opponent.
The second guard dropped dead, his entire head turned into a horrible, swollen, black thing. And like Spyro, blood poured from all orifices in his head.
The state of the third guard was the most horrendous of them all. Sparx looked him over from the distance. "Ayiiiiiiiiii!"
He was down, unmoving. Lifeless and dead like the other two. But unlike them, his entire body had gone black from death. The smell of rot permeated the air, and much of the mole's body had swollen to one-and-a-half times its original size.
Sparx made the connection instantly. Anything afflicted with this black… something was completely dead!
Cynder gasped, the three deaths enough to snap her back from the revelation of Malefor manifesting himself in Joshua's illusory world. The green tinge of poison stained her wing fingers—her claws, and with a movement aided by an innovative combination of the Wind and Shadow Elements, launched herself directly at Joshua Renalia's back.
Yet somehow, someway, the hoo-man performed the impossible. He squealed from terror and picked up a shield from one of the fallen guards. He rounded up on Cynder instantly and blocked her strike. "Agggghhh!" he shouted not a cry of anger, but a cry of terror and pity. White, translucent mist gushed out of his mouth in response, enveloping Cynder as it did that poor soldier.
The first name that came to mind spilled out of Sparx's mouth. "GROUCHY!" He made to fly out there in blind panic, envisioning the image of a black dragoness with glassy eyes, cold to the touch and utterly dead with an unsullied body. Both Saviors, down. One, dead; and the other, just clinging to life by the tip of her horns.
What did they do to deserve this? They—
A furry hand blocked Sparx's progress. One of the guards surrounding him stopped the dragonfly from heading out there, to certain death. "It's too dangerous!" he yelled. "Don't go out there!"
"But… but…!"
Cynder's voice cut him off. "Uugggghhh, what did you do to me?" she said, wobbling back and forth across the grass. "I can't see—Ancestors, I can't hear my own voi—URP!" The dragoness collapsed, crumpling on all fours before vomiting continuously. "URRRRLLLKKK!"
"I'm sorry! But Malefor's getting closer!" Joshua turned his back on her. "I'm so sorry!" He took the opportunity to flee, still zigzagging and even skipping and jumping along the ground with the shield in hand, probably imagining he's in a dark castle or an underground fortress. He even rolled and dove around, doing his very best to evade hazards visible only to his eyes.
Spirits, was he still hallucinating all this? How potent were Cynder's Fear breaths?
"OH MY F*CKING GOD!" Joshua shouted, his dilated emerald eyes staring at the one-winged dragon being cradled in the arms of an atlawa. "Kilat! Why are you here? You're not supposed to be in this place! Why—oh f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!"
He switched direction and made a beeline straight for the two guards. "Let go of her, you sick Apes!" The atlawas ignored him, instead fleeing faster to apparent safety behind the walls of Warfang. Anxiety crosses Joshua's face. "Stop!"
Joshua growled. "I said stop!" At his command, two spheres formed above his shoulders and released two white beams of light. Both atlawas were hit in the back. They subsequently fell. Had Sparx been close by, he would've seen both their torsos become dark and swollen.
"We need to stop this," Sparx heard the Electric dragon mutter.
"This is getting out of control," another guard said. More among those close to the dragonfly nodded to each other.
"Guys, wait!" protested Sparx. "What about Spyro? We need to carry him out of—
Before he could articulate further, both adolescent dragons leaped into the skies. Two more guards on standby also decided to act, springing to action at the same time. They jumped into the fray, drawing their weapons from their sheaths.
Sparx stared at the dying dragon. He didn't want to risk his life helping him, but Baldie's continued survival was giving him little choice in the matter. "You three," he said. "Pick Spyro up and let's carry him into Warfa—
"JESUS F*CKING CHRIST!"
The dragonfly rotated towards Joshua, who he saw stumbling along the dirt road. The round, metal shield he scavenged from the dead mole rolled to a stop far away from him, as one of the teenage dragons circled back from behind and inhaled, releasing a blast of orange fire.
"Fffffffuuuuuuuu—!" Joshua raised his hand and swung it in the direction of a cheetah trying to sneak up on him from the side. The flames followed suit, slamming into the soldier.
The final atlawa from Sparx's group of soldiers lumbered slowly to the hoo-man, a massive Warhammer in hand. He raised the gigantic weapon and pounded it down, hoping to crush Joshua beneath it.
"Shit-shit-shit-shit!" He slipped away and moved closer to the guard, hyperventilating. He was as a cornered animal, desperately reaching for salvation. He kicked the atlawa in the shin as he moved, causing another white flash that turned his entire leg black. The massive man fell to the ground and rolled, clutching the afflicted limb in agony. If Sparx understood this correctly, this meant he would never have use of his leg again.
The second dragon flew in from the front, a great net of electricity blasting the hoo-man where he stood. To his dismay, the white shield appeared and blocked—nullified the Element. Worse, the shield shimmered after enduring the attack and released white lances of light, targeting the two dragons guarding the sky. Sparx did not see what had happened to them—he assumed they were dead—because, worst of all, Joshua Renalia suddenly vanished.
"Where is he?" yelled the three moles behind him. "Where'd the Ape go?"
Sparx fluttered towards the city. He couldn't see Joshua. He couldn't smell Joshua. He couldn't find a trace of him. He had completely and utterly disappeared, and Spirits knew where the accursed person went. He turned to the guards struggling to carry Spyro the Dragon into the city. "C'mon, fellas, hurry up! Double time, double time!"
"We're… ugh, w-we're, murrr, trying! But your 'brother' is… h-heavy!"
Once a fat, purple lump, always a fat, purple lump. No wonder he and Cynder were perfect for each other. Those two simply never changed! "Remind me to smack him a new one and put him on a diet when he wakes up."
Sparx glanced back. Miss Grouchy still lied where she dropped, managing to suppress her body's urge to regurgitate her lunch. Some of the other guards were helping Infernus up, whose scrunched snout looked irked beyond all description and completely incapable of using his two blackened legs. The other soldiers had begun ushering away what citizens had stayed behind to watch the spectacle, scattering them to either the farms or a part of the wall farther away from combat. No longer were they pushing people to the Gates of Warfang, not when a team was carrying a wounded VIP into the City of Dragons.
He wondered what happened to the furless ape. There was no sign of him. Nothing! "He some sort of ninja?" he asked himself, trying to find some rational explanation for the way Joshua literally vanished in thin air. It had to be connected to that dangerous ability of his. He absorbed the Spirit Gems like a dragon. He could… sort of… control the Elements like a dragon—all the known Elements, too. He possessed no control over his power at all, but even then it became more responsive when…
When he suffered from fear?
When he grew more determined?
When he got angry?
When…
.
.
.
When… what?
Sparx vigorously abraded his head. "AGGGGHH!" I got nothing! How can we stop him if we can't even figure out—
Gasps from the moles carrying Spyro's body behind him dragged the dragonfly away from his thoughts, alerting him to the hoo-man's abrupt reappearance right next to the dragon child ahead, between the two dead atlawas. Mouth agape, Sparx was too stunned to say anything, let alone stutter and stammer.
He watched Joshua Renalia pick up the Electric dragoness, cradling her in his brown arms like a newborn baby. He spoke to the little girl—whispered to her as he poked her golden scales. The child stirred. Barely conscious, she gave it her best shot to say something, only to fail.
Joshua focused his attention on Sparx's little procession. The dragonfly hovered back slightly, apprehensive. He blinked. The terror in Joshua's eyes was evident, and from the way he talked—the way he moved, Sparx knew Cynder's Siren Scream had not worn off yet. "Is, i-is that, Spyro? What's—oh my God, Sparx, too? W-wha… why—
He sauntered closer to the five of them. "This, t-this is Malefor's castle. How in God's name are you—
"Aieeeeee!" cried one of the moles.
"Every mole for himself!" the guardsman dropped Spyro and scampered away, bolting from the scene.
Sparx watched the remaining two do the same. "W-w-w-wait, hold on, guys! You can't just leave me—you can't just abandon our Savior! Guys? Guys!"
They ran away, the both of them. "Damn it, you cowards! Come back! Get your furry asses back here right now or Spirits help me I'll sic Cynder at—
A shadow loomed over Sparx.
"—both of, you…"
He turned. Baldie towered above him, gaping at the slumped body behind the insect. "Spyro," he murmured. "He can't be here. Impossible! This is Earth. Spyro's back in…"Joshua's voice faltered; he bit his lower lip. "Jesus. I'm still in the Dragon Realms, aren't I?"
A second passed. The dilation in his eyes faded away, and Joshua's relentless shivering yielded to poignant horror. Sheer, heartbreaking emotion. He wheezed, he whimpered at the sight of the carnage he caused. Eight city guards dead. Cynder, down and incapable of standing upright. "Holy f*cking shit." Sparx watched him bring the child closer to him. He hugged the dragoness like a doll, as though trying to eke out as much warmth as he could from her small body. "I, I-I… I… I thought…"
Whatever he thought had to wait. Joshua Renalia looked at the dying Spyro again. He straightened his posture and steeled his face—his nerves. The furless ape approached his brother, defenseless and at the enemy's mercy. None of the other guards wanted to go near them, not after the cowardice so properly demonstrated by three of their own.
Sparx spread his arms in a valiant but pitiful endeavor to defend Chunky, pressing himself up against the Purple Dragon's scales. I'm not gonna run, he swore to Spyro. He always ran away because he was useless, because all he could do was talk, pester Spyro, and annoy Cynder. He couldn't fight. He couldn't punch the daylights out of his opponent. Not when you need me, brother. They were family.
And family always stuck together, no matter what.
I'll never abandon you!
Joshua loomed menacingly above the adopted brothers. Sparx suppressed every urge to fly away. If they were going to die here, then so be it. At least they were together in the end, the two of them. The dragonfly stared into those emerald eyes. It was his last act of defiance, willingly looking certain death in the eye. A mere ant, standing strong against the adversity of the entire world around it.
Despite all the mental exercises Sparx had put his mind through, the mewling of a little girl dissolved his entire fortitude like sand.
"Please, don't, leave me, Jo-Joshua. I, need you…"
Only then did the dragonfly realize the furless ape had done nothing to him. Instead, he had placed the Electric dragoness close to Spyro's chest. The child was barely conscious, but at least she was cognizant enough to reach for Joshua the moment his hands left her body.
Perplexed, Sparx watched the hoo-man take her paw. He rubbed it, stroking even the paw pads. "I promise you, Kilat, I won't. We'll always be together, okay?"
Kilat smiled, the child's blue eyes fixed on the furless ape and him alone. "Ooooookay," she said and slowly closed her eyes. "Together…"
The young man turned to him before making any move on Spyro. He took a deep breath. "Sparx, I—
Sparx desperately tried to claw back his resolve. He mustn't fall for this deception! For all he knew, this was a trick and the hairless ape planned to finish his brother off. "No!" he resisted. "I'm not letting you anywhere near my brother, you stupid, bald ape!"
"Sparx—
"Baldie!"
"I just want to help—
He looked up at Joshua, eyes a little damp. "Spyro doesn't need your 'help'!"
"Yes, he does!" The hoo-man growled, scratching his head. "Argh, forget it. Arguing with you is a f*cking waste of time." He made a move for Spyro's bleeding head.
Sparx shut his eyes and flustered his wings as much as he could. He sprung from his spot, fist extended. He hoped he hit Baldie's nose. A bad nosebleed was the least he should suffer from for ignoring Spyro's one and only brother.
Regretfully, Sparx had a horrendous aim from the very start. He flew well past Joshua's face, far off the mark. It wasn't until a few seconds had lapsed when the dragonfly realized his grave error. Never should've closed my eyes in the first place! He gyrated and faced Joshua. He was horrified to discover he already had his hands all over Spyro's muzzle.
"Oh man! I missed. I actually missed!" The dragonfly reprimanded himself for this mistake. Promising never to repeat this embarrassing blunder again, Sparx flew down to finally engage Joshua Renalia in combat, with all the odds stacked against him…
Then he stopped in midair.
Baldie had done nothing to Spyro. Instead he had Purple Boy's head on his lap, viridian eyes inspecting the damage he inadvertently inflicted on the poor, fat dragon. "I did this," Sparx heard him ramble. "I did this. I did this to him…"
The furless ape began palpitating when his hands came into contact with the slick blood trickling out of Spyro's head. He trembled, even as he finally raised the scaly muzzle and gave it an inspection much too close for Sparx's comfort. "Veins and capillaries all over his head had burst," Joshua murmured. "Hemorrhaging 'round his neck—his ears—his nose—his throat—his eyes. Bleeding's lessened, but hasn't stopped at all."
The dragonfly latched onto every word. Whether Baldie could be trusted was no longer a concern. Not right now. He just wanted to know if Spyro was going to be okay. "And? And, and? What does all that mumbo-jumbo mean?"
"It means..." It took a couple seconds for him to complete his response. "It means he's really close to dying." The furless ape hissed. "Oh f*cking hell. At the rate his life's fading, I'd peg it at a couple minutes at best."
"A-a-a, a couple minutes!" If Sparx had hair on his bare scalp, by now he'd be tearing off clumps of it. "Arrrrggghh! That's, t-tha, that's…!"
For all the snark Sparx had in mind, for all the facility and ease he could blabber his mouth for hours on end, the dragonfly couldn't finish his sentence.
He was lost.
Spellbound by the thought of losing Savior Boy forever. That he would lose a loved one today… it devastated Sparx.
It reminded him of the days following the War, the days he and Spyro realized what exactly used to be the Burned Lands. Disquiet gnawed at their hearts, for back then it had been a little over three years since they last spoke with their parents. To their best recollection, Sparx, Purple Boy, and that She-Devil never glimpsed another dragonfly after they escaped the Catacombs with Hunter.
Together, the three of them spent weeks—months!—searching for the dragonfly colony. They scoured the Valley of Avalar, passed over the Dry Canyon, asked help from the Atlawas in the Tall Plains, and revisited the Shattered Vale. Spyro and Sparx sought out their family even while they combed the unknown lands, seeking hidden settlements of dragons taking refuge from a war long finished.
Nearly a year and a half passed before they finally received news from a traveling merchant—a faun, the first of their kind to be seen in Warfang. She mentioned a young colony of dragonflies thriving in the Summer Forest, a large laurel forest situated next to her homeland in Fracture Hills.
All the melancholy and sorrow Sparx and that fat lump suffered through consecutive, fruitless endeavors vanished. During a diplomatic trip aimed at establishing trade relations with Fracture Hills, their rising hopes blossomed into genuine relief and happiness when the two of them finally reunited with their parents in the forest, where they were safe, unharmed, and to the dragonfly's jealousy, boasting another set of children to love.
He didn't want to experience that feeling of loss again. He hated that bereavement, and the dreary hopelessness that accompanied it.
Despondency dazzled in Sparx's eyes when he looked up at the hoo-man. "Can't… can't you do anything for Spyro?"
"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Baldie snapped at him, the teenager's expression as conflicted and pained as his.
"But you're just holding his head. You're not doing anything!"
"Yes, I, am!" came the frustrated response. Joshua gnarred. "I'm looking for where he's bleeding the most."
The internal clock in Sparx's head slowly ticked down to his brother's doom. "We're running out of time!"
"You think I don't f*cking know that?" Joshua used his fingers to push Spyro's eyes open. Sparx flinched at the way it was covered in crimson. "I can feel his life ebbing away second by second! You don't have to tell me—
Joshua pried the dragon's teeth apart, and he recoiled at the dark red blood that rolled from his jaw and soiled his pants. "OH F*CK ME!"
He forced Spyro's mouth wider, lifted up the head, and looked into his mouth. Joshua sniffled, the smell of gore alone bringing tears to the hoo-man's eyes. Sparx fretfully watched him pull on Purple Boy's tongue and inspect the throat.
"Well?" He asked. No response.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
"Well?" He asked again.
"Nothing." Joshua shook his head. "F*cking nothing! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, I can't figure it out. I don't know where he's hurting the most. It's horrible everywhere—
Sparx whined, "But you said you can fix him!"
"I can, damn it! I can fix this!" Joshua punched the ground next to him, aggravated and panicked. "I can fix this. I can fix this. I know I can fix this…"
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
Then the horrid wheezing began.
His brother started taking deep, long breaths. "Joshua, do something." Each one brought Spyro closer to death, and Sparx didn't have to be a medical specialist to know this. "Anything!"
"Come on," Baldie muttered to himself. "Come on, come on, come onnnnnn. You were able to heal Kilat. You saved her. You can fix this. C'mon, Joshua, you gotta do this. Spyro's your hero. You can't let him die—
Sparx's ears registered his murmurs as incoherent rambling. They were quickly running out of time, and despite that Joshua Renalia looked like he spaced out, unable to even watch Spyro go limp. Incensed, he flew directly in front of the furless ape and punched him in the nose. "Baldie, stop spacing out and help my brother!"
In the end, the dragonfly did give him a bad nosebleed. "Sparx, what the f*ck!" Joshua glared at him. "I was nearly there! Then you just knocked me out of concentration. If I can't get my damn Element to work, I won't be able to—
The words flew around Sparx but none entered his head. He zeroed in on the white glow illuminating the hoo-man's hands. "AAAAAHHHHHH!"
A golden finger directed both their attentions on the glowing light on Spyro's head.
"Christ, what're you on ab—OH F**************CCCCCCK!"
"Spirits, what are you doing?"
"I DON'T KNOW! It just turned on by itself!"
"I wanted you to help Spyro!"
"But that's what I wanted, too!"
"Then why are you killing him?"
"The hell I am! If I wanted him dead, I would've—
Sparx tuned Baldie out. He had to stop him. He had to stop Joshua before he really finished off his brother. But he didn't want those clouds to—
"Sparx," Joshua voiced. "Sparx, wait—
Wait. His hands! He needed to push his hands away. Sparx flew down to the furless ape's fingers.
"Sparx, I've got good—
"AHHHH!" The dragonfly made the loudest battle cry he ever mustered from his tiny lungs and rammed Joshua's wrist with all his might.
"GUH!"
Joshua removed his left wrist and waved it in the air. "Goddammit, you're just a dragonfly. How did—
Sparx ignored him. He glared at the other hand, ogled the white glow accelerating his brother's murder. Deceive me, huh? You're not making a fool out of this golden boy. He prepared to make another suicidal collision on the young man's arm.
But Joshua acted seconds before he did, moving his right hand away before the dragonfly made a move. "H-huh?"
"—elling you, he's fine," Joshua's voice reached him. "Sparx, he's doing better!"
"W, what do you mean 'he's doing better'?" He inspected the mauve snout. Still as bloody as ever. "He's still looks terrible!"
"Focus on his breathing, dude."
Sparx couldn't help remarking, "You mean his dying breaths? Oh man, you can't honestly be…"
The change in the dragon's condition was so noticeable he almost fell from the air from incredulity. "Whoa, Whoa, whoa, whoa, he is doing better!" Sparx turned to Joshua. "Baldie, what did you do?"
He shrugged his shoulders. Sparx did not understand his body language, and he would've told him to just spit it out, but the furless ape beat him to it. "I don't know," he said. "I don't really know anything about my Element. I can barely get it to work most of the time." He reviewed the muzzle again. "I don't know why my Element activated just like that, and I've no idea why he isn't fully healed like the last time I got my stupid power to do this. But as far as I can tell, Spyro's stabilized; the bleeding's stopped."
"So does that mean—
"There's still a risk of him dying," Joshua admitted. "But definitely not in the next few minutes. Not anymore. He's got a day, give or take, if nothing's done. Sooooo, if you rush Spyro to a hospital—
"What the heck's a hospital?"
"—as soon as possible and get him some real help, I bet he'll come out of this just fine."
At those words, Sparx the Dragonfly felt his wings slow down. He drifted onto Spyro's head, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Ohhhhhhhh, thank the Spirits he's gonna be okay…"
So did Joshua. "Thank God." He turned to the resting Kilat, shuffling to pick her up. "That's one less thing to worry about," he said. A hand motioned towards her outstretched paw. He wrapped his palm around it. "All right, Kilat. I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere, see?"
Sparx did not hear her reply. Instead, he tilted his head to the furless ape, who once again had the young dragoness in his arms. She cuddled into him, and for some reason, he found it cute. "You know, Baldie, for a hairless ape, I guess you're not so bad after all."
Joshua sighed. "So… can you help me out here?" he asked, obviously referring to the whole mess he was in. "I'd prefer it if Kilat and I live here in Warfang over roughing it out there in the Autumn Plains."
Sparx cocked his gaze towards Cynder. Struggling to stand, she had recovered somewhat from whatever Joshua had done to her. The unease in her eyes was plain to see, knowing Joshua had been right next to her mate. The guards were still watching them from a distance, holding back the crowds. A mixture of fear and doubt comprised both groups' expressions, and Infernus… well, Sparx could care less about him.
"Tell you what," he said. "I'll vouch for you when Cyn catches up with us, and you can make your case to the Guardians. I know Spyro boy's going to be mad, but even he's got to face the fact you helped him."
"Really?" Worry, even guilt, flashed on his face. "But I… I killed—
Sparx pounded the boy's chest. "Don't get me wrong, hoo-man boy! They will put you through hell for that." Whether he did it out of self-defense, or whether he had the ability to control it, didn't matter. Lives were still lost to his power, so the burden of reparations fell on his shoulders. At the very least, he did not deserve something as death or miserable imprisonment. "But with the three of us backing you up, those old boys will let you live in the city with your little sister there. That much I can tell you."
It took a moment for Joshua Renalia to process this; a smile broke out when he did. "T-thank you," Joshua Renalia said. "Thank you so much. You don't know how happy I am to hear that."
"Heh, don't mention it. Spyro was definitely wrong about you. This is the least I can do after you proved him—
"Now! Ancestors, get him now!"
Sparx bolted at the voice. Spirits, that was Infernus! Where—
Joshua rolled away, in time to avoid a rock from crushing his head. "Crap! Not again." How he just sensed these things, Sparx would never understand.
He watched the furless ape raise his hand to flick a second one-ton boulder coming up at him, fast. He lashed the palm away from the two of them, only to see the massive stone keep on going. Oh man, it's 'cause he's more relaxed now!
Joshua dropped Kilat instantly and braced himself. "Oh heeeeelllll!" Distress must have compelled the hoo-man to make what appeared to be a useless, futile attempt to swat the attack away. Otherwise, the boulder would never have been diverted away from them in one hit, flogging the nearby grass.
Unfortunately, both Joshua Renalia and Sparx failed to notice a third boulder immediately following behind the rock that had just been deflected. The dragonfly watched the young man receive one nasty hit in the chest. He heard something snap as the momentum sent Baldie flying into the air.
.
.
.
Right where Infernus wanted him. "You demolished my legs. You even razed my little dragon!" The thundery crack of an explosion announced his arrival as the burly Fire Dragon crashed into Joshua, swamped in that terrifying, blue fire. "I will END you!"
Violently, he hammered his largest horns into the furless ape, knocking him up. Rather than letting the momentum carry Joshua, the vermilion dragon went farther than this. He draped his forelegs around his battered, struggling body, and even sunk his teeth into his shoulder. With everything from the waist down blackened, this was the only thing he could do to take hold.
Dumbfounded at the Guardian Candidate's obstinacy, Sparx watched the Infernus haul a bloodied and screaming Joshua Renalia to the center of eight city guards. Two of each Element. All of them dragons he recognized from the Warfang Temple, ranked as mid-level Apprentices.
Before the dragonfly even processed what was happening before him, as soon as the Guardian Candidate touched down all eight dragons took deep breaths and flooded his position with a great deluge of all four Elements. A brief exposure to an onslaught of that magnitude was going to hurt Infernus, but it wouldn't kill a dragon of his caliber. A tired, exhausted, and wounded individual like Joshua, on the other hand?
That furless ape was as good as—
A massive white cloud erupted from the center of the group. It was dense, Sparx saw. Denser than even the cloak that enveloped Joshua earlier. He swore it looked no different than the thick, seemingly impenetrable cloudbanks infesting the skies on dark, stormy days.
Not a sound escaped the group during this eruption. The roaring breaths ground to a halt instantly, leaving behind an eerie, unfathomable silence.
Seconds passed.
Two minutes passed.
When the great, white nebula finally diffused and revealed the scene it obscured, Sparx croaked from absolute horror.
All nine dragons caught in the attack were slumped on the ground, dead.
Yet none of them bore visible signs of injury or trauma. There was no bleeding. No discoloration at all.
It was as if…
As if their very lives were snuffed out the second those clouds touched them. Like candles blown away by the wind. Like a god had descended upon them at the moment they judged Joshua Renalia and decided they all had to die, intervening directly with an invisible scythe in hand.
Joshua stood alone. His body was spotless. Clean. As though he'd never been hurt in the first place.
"They're dead!" one of the bystanders cawed.
"I-I-Infernus!" exclaimed a dragon—it was Rimeer, the Ice Dragon Cynder had earlier incapacitated. He must've woken up in time to witness this tragedy. "By the Ancestors, INFERNUS IS DEAD!"
People left and right began to scream. Coals of terror once again burned among the crowds, stoked by the ghastly and impossible sight of Warfang's best biting the dust.
Joshua tried to say something. "I, I didn't mean it," he said. "He attacked me first! My body—m-my Ele—my power just did something!"
None listened. Most of the civilians absconded from the place, hurrying into the Gates.
"God! C'mon, be reasonable. Calm down! That's not my fault! Infernus—
"—is dead! a cheetah interrupted him, gritting his teeth. The guard brandished a bow and slid one steel arrow into the notch.
On its release, Joshua winced. Upon stepping back, the white aegis appeared before him in defense. As soon as the arrow entered the shield…
…the projectile penetrated a barrier that blocked off all the known Elements and struck Joshua in the upper arm before he could even dodge it completely. "AGH!"
Random voices from all the remaining guards piped up. "Malefor's servant or not…"
"…your fault or not…"
Rimeer concluded, "You are a danger to everyone around you. You need to be put down."
"F*ck my life!" Joshua cried. "Sparx, help me out here!"
But Sparx was no longer by Spyro's unconscious body.
"Sparx?"
For the dragonfly, too, screamed at the top of his lungs at the appalling image of so many dragons lying dead around Joshua Renalia. As he shrieked, the tiny brain in his head realized this cycle of revenge and misunderstanding wasn't going to stop until he brought someone with true authority. Someone unbiased. Someone who could judge this fairly.
"Damn it! Sparx, where'd you go?"
With haste, he had gone back into the City of Warfang, soaring above the walls. Sparx the Dragonfly had only the Temple in his sights.
He needed to get the Guardians involved, and quickly!
They'd know how to stop this madness…
They'd know how to resolve this…
Before many more people start falling, their eyes a lifeless glass.
Author's notes:
Got to admit, Joshua's got one overpowered and very flexible power. Who knew Cynder's Fear breath opened Pandora's Box like this? As it happens, the psychological repercussions of being struck by the Fear Element meshes very well with the requirements I've set for Joshua to control the Unknown Element.
Anyway, I was so surprised that a lot of you thought I killed off Spyro when I concluded the previous chapter. Better learn how to read more carefully, people! I threw in multiple hints pointing to Spyro actually still being alive—the biggest among them being the fact his muzzle and neck weren't necrotic like the Alpha Death Hound after Joshua punched it in a similar location.
Also, to address Somebodynobody10's review. You do raise a fair point and it certainly dilutes the meaning of "suspense" if I kept on beleaguering the reader with constant hints of things "getting worse", as you say. Thing is, this story arc is nearing its conclusion and to anyone reading this, it's painfully obvious how I plan for things to resolve.
Before concluding this lengthy note, I wish to thank badasslizard and rhetorical irony for being my beta readers for this chapter. I rarely ask help from betas, but working with Sparx had been very, very difficult for me. Working with canon characters in a fandom I'm not that familiar with is difficult. =_=; If Sparx feels OOC to you, that's because of my unfamiliarity with the character and probably a lack of strength in the narration.
Finally, I also want to apologize to my readers. I failed to keep this chapter short. The word count is a little bit longer than 10K, slightly above the maximum limit I've set for Aimless. I couldn't find anything to delete, and I am frustrated that I had to publish it this way. But rest assured, I'll figure out a way to shorten the remainder of this story arc so we can get back on track. I'll do my best to keep things short and sweet in the updates ahead; I'm itching to get into the real reason why I started this story in the first place. :)
See y'all in the next chapter.
04/29/2019 EDIT: Fixed author's notes to remove most hints/spoilers.