Chapter 16: Misunderstood

"Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied."

- Pearl S. Buck

It was not supposed to happen this way.

When Cynder attacked the human, she expected the whole affair to be done and over with in a blink of an eye. His body language pointed to a sheltered upbringing. He knew no fighting, and demonstrated very little control over his power, that strange magic. Her Phantom Fright addled his mind with irrational, paralyzing terror, restricting him further.

By all accounts—by the grace of the Ancestors, Joshua Renalia should've been a corpse, his bloody neck dangling from her jaw.

Instead, he proved immune to the Fear Element.

Instead, his power bloomed, thriving in his artificial dread.

Joshua overwhelmed her with abilities she had never come across in her life, accomplishing feats that cast doubt on whether his power was truly magic, or something else entirely. He manipulated her Poison as if it had been his own, just as he'd done with Spyro's four Elements. He penetrated her Shadows, nullified her Winds, and became impervious to surprise.

All her attempts to blindside the human failed. He avoided whenever she attacked from a blind spot. When she slipped into the shadows to get behind him, he sidestepped, sometimes threw himself away before Cynder could come at him, or spit something at him before he seized control.

Ancestors, the battle was insane. Joshua tracked not only her every movement, but also every use of her Elements. Worst of all, his power was so potent—so lethal she couldn't risk anything. Joshua was not some weakling she could rush in, take down, and kill while enduring minimal damage from its spells or its attacks. She couldn't forget how he dealt with Spyro and Infernus.

"Minimal damage" meant instant paralysis. It meant losing a limb. It meant mortal wounds. Spyro's bleeding head, the withered tree, and a few spots of dead grass flashed in her mind as she attacked, rendering her incapable of optimal performance. The echoes of danger washing over Cynder reminded her of Convexity.

Reminded her of Malefor. Of the climactic battle in the Burned Lands.

Unprepared.

Confused.

Afraid.

These feelings coursed through Cynder—surged throughout her entire being the moment she realized every attack Joshua made would instantly kill, the moment he saw the Dark Master himself in his illusions—and revealed an intimate secret kept only between her and Spyro… in public.

The second Savior of the Dragon Realms wanted him to stop, before this insanity continued. Before the losses mounted higher and higher. Regrets screamed the second Joshua breathed a white mist at her. She had seen what it did to that tree—to that mole.

Cynder believed she was going to die on the spot, killed by someone who didn't want to fight—who couldn't fight, who still wanted to help Spyro. Maybe she should've given him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she should've given him a second chance.

What happened next terrified her.

Because the world vanished, and it took everything with it.

The furless ape enduring her attack behind a shield.

The city guards glaring fearfully at Joshua, and a mixture of disgust and respect at Cynder.

The residents and visitors observing them, frightened and panic at the fallen, bloody body of the legendary Purple Dragon.

All of it disappeared, leaving Cynder in a cold and lonely darkness. She recoiled from shock; and with everything pitch-black—as though the dragoness had never been born with eyes—she didn't notice what else she lost until she drew in a deep breath and focused on her ears.

Two big mistakes.

For absolute silence and an almost complete desolation reigned supreme in this nightmare. Blind, deaf, and anosmic, the world as Cynder knew it had cast her away.

The air she breathed went through her nostrils, but it carried none of the smells, of the odors she had grown used to in the years she spent here, living with Spyro at the Warfang Temple. It was lifeless. She couldn't smell the lingering scent of the flowers. Disorientation took root when she sought the soil's earthy odor and failed to find it. Even the pungent aromas of Warfang's various residents were absent. Where was the dry odor of the cheetahs? Or the noisome spiciness of the Atlawas? Where was the disgusting funk the Moles exuded, or even the piquant tang of dragonkind?

Lost, Cynder desperately tried to ground herself in the violent combat or alarmed panic that would surely follow her fall. She sought the hurried footsteps, the frantic yelling, the enraged cries, or even the clash of metal upon metal, or metal ripping flesh apart.

Cynder found nothing. But before the undisturbed quiet threw her off, before the horror of losing both her sight and sense of smell set in, vertigo attacked—slammed waves upon waves of dizziness upon her.

The world did not vanish, and she grabbed whatever solace she could from the fact it did not cast her out. Yet all her relief paled before the reality of her situation, for the Savior had been pushed away—shoved away from the world and now she held on for dear life with nothing but a thin, fragile rope.

Sickness had fallen. Whatever Joshua did to her sapped all her energy—drained it all!—and replaced it with the agonizing pain of exhaustion. Of weakness.

"Uugggghhh," she groaned. "What did you do to me? I can't see—Ancestors!" No. No, she couldn't. No, not this. Her ears didn't even register the words she knew was coming out of her mouth. Overtaken by the stillness of the world around her, she panicked. "I can't hear my own voi—

Cynder was glancing left and right, but she didn't know if her body even moved in the right direction. Then what little remained of her world shuddered. It wobbled as the agony in her stomach erupted. She collapsed, unable to tolerate this. The fright, the trepidation Cynder suffered yielded to a more physical distress. Then all four of her legs buckled. She went on her knees and wretched, regurgitating everything she had for lunch that day. "URRRRLLLKKK!"

As she wretched and writhed from her anguish, she felt a hand on her scales, palming the crest on her forehead. The human had the nerve to touch her after incapacitating her into utter powerlessness! But with this unbearable darkness snuffing everything out—the sun, the grass, the city, its people—sight, smell, and sound—despite her indignation Cynder's snarls (if she ever snarled at all) were reduced into pathetic, fraught whimpering and she focused on it, rubbed her head on it while the young man spent a few seconds talking, vibrating the air long and close enough to know he was addressing her. Yet she could not understand him, with her hearing in absentia.

Joshua Renalia then took away his hand—her last lifeline to the world around her, leaving the black dragoness to squirm—to thrash about in the grass, next to her own filth.

She was vulnerable.

She was helpless.

And she was surrounded by people who were either ambivalent or hostile towards her. Cynder was at their mercy, as was Spyro. Tremendous anxiety consumed the dragoness. Her breathing quickened; she felt her heart beat rapidly in tandem, but the silence in her ears—the thumping she could no longer hear—worried her.

Thoughts of a blade sliding into her body or Joshua having his way with the people of Warfang fueled all her attempts to move her body. Cynder's muscles quaked while she struggled to stand, to get on her paws. Warfang needed their Saviors, more than ever. The images of dead guards, of Infernus' black leg, of Spyro's bleeding head, and of the discombobulated citizens fallen to the ground, as sensory-deprived as she, repeated constantly, egging her to move, to get up and do something—anything—

Light.

She finally saw light.

Sweet, heavenly, miraculous light.

Praise the Ancestors, Joshua's power was beginning to wear off at last. Living in a lifeless world of silence and darkness, adrift and forever confused, unable to make heads or paws of everything… the thought of suffering even another minute in that rebarbative place spooked Cynder no less than her occasional nightmares, where she'd been cursed again into the Terror of the Skies, possessed, no longer in control, and obsessed with vengeance.

Yet when the colors separated—when the light died down, allowed her to truly see, her breath hitched at the sight of Joshua Renalia kneeling next to Spyro the Dragon, his hands all over his head.

"Spuh, Spyro," Cynder mewled. The words flowed out weakly, her throat hoarse. She struggled to move, to regain her bearings, to come to her mate's defense. What was that furless ape doing to him? What's with the impassive face? Was he proudly examining his work? Or was he looking for more signs of life? Was he going to help him? Or did Joshua lie to her? Fooled her into believing he deserved a second shot?

Sparx was there, fluttering around the human unevenly. Devastation had been embedded on his face, and he clutched his own head, murmuring to himself. He must have tried to stop Joshua. She gnashed her teeth. He could fix this, he said. He wanted to help Spyro, he said. Give him a chance, he begged. The fact she felt regret at his dirty lies appalled her. Cynder promised herself to kill the furless ape as soon as she could. Destroy him before that white cloak manifested and—

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Sparx's scream, the first sound she heard, drew her attention immediately. "Spirits, what are you doing?"

Green eyes dilated, seeing the glowing light in Joshua's hands. "I DON'T KNOW!" yelled the human. "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 taken Kilat and run for the hills, you stupid dolt. I would've left him to die right here but"—he ceased his rant; focused on the Purple Dragon.—"Oh shit. Sparx. Sparx, wait—Damn it! Sparx, I've got good—

"AHHHH!"

"GUH!"

Her hearing hadn't recovered enough to hear their continued argument, though Cynder was bewildered enough by Sparx's sudden change in his demeanor, switching quickly from hostility to astonishment. Joshua's mouth flapped some more, and the dragoness's confusion reached its apex the moment Sparx looked like he dodged an arrow by a talon's length and all but withered onto Spyro's head, releasing a deep breath. Even Joshua Renalia leaned on her mate, his panic receding while he took solace from the one-winged child in his arms, hugging her. A sign he cared for the little girl. Loved her for real, unlike the accusations thrown at him by the suspicious guards.

What happened?

Why were Sparx and Joshua talking like, li-like friends now?

She watched him prod the adolescent's chest with a finger, heard the reproachful cadence in his voice, and saw a smile form on Joshua's lips. The dragonfly even locked eyes with her a second earlier, the expression on his face one of immense relief.

What did Joshua do? What did he do to Spyro? A faint wave of emotionrose in her chest. The blood of her beloved mate still wafted into her nose, but now it didn't come with the stench of a dying life. Where once she isolated the subtle smell of an unconscious dragon's distress, Cynder now discovered the more pleasant odor of rest, tranquility.

Did he? Did, Did Joshua really—no, he couldn't have. His magic—his power only harmed. It blinded. It deafened. It numbed. It disoriented.

It paralyzed.

And it killed.

Joshua couldn't have accomplished this. He couldn't have saved Spyro.

So why? Why was Sparx more cordial with him now? Why did her mate seem so much better now than he did a second ago?

And why now? Why, after Joshua left more than ten bodies in the wake of his terrible, terrible ability?

The former Terror of the Skies, the Heroine of the Dragon Realms forced herself to stand. Her legs quivered—her muscles quaked and screeched at her to lie down and let them rest. But she needed to get there. Spyro had to be okay now, yet she still had to see for herself, to feel for herself. It was the only way to satiate the worries still lingering in her heart—

Then it happened.

Infernus chose this time to ambush Joshua Renalia, notwithstanding his injuries. He had planned the assault, and the timing provided enough evidence he waited until the human was no longer in a state of panic, relaxed—comforted by the security of having Sparx's apparent support. Cynder's ire bubbled in her. How dare he? He waited until the action—the maelstromdied down before making this move?

What if someone with a grudge exploited his inaction and killed her, the Purple Dragon's mate?

What if Joshua had finished off Spyro instead?

What if Sparx took more guards with him? What if more good people—good soldiers died because the Guardian Candidate withheld his "help" until the very last second?

All these questions and more popped into her head, even as she continued to watch—ogle the way Infernus' horns sunk into Joshua's stomach and ripped into it, releasing a gush of red, human blood. The Fire Dragon went so far as to pin him in place and bite down on his shoulder, hauling him to a circle of armored Apprentices. She remembered many of them aspiring to be Elemental Guardians someday, to help the people of Warfang, to defend it against the City of Apes, and to aid the Saviors' multiple expeditions beyond the known borders of their world.

Of the eight she recognized, half had shown respect to Cynder. Shown acceptance, socializing with her no more than they did with her mate, unlike the many who still saw her as a monster. As Malefor's demon.

The Savior choked at the thick cloud that erupted in the middle of the group. Her eyes stung, breaking her own neck to process both its massive density and the eerie, inert silence that instantly followed. Uncontrollably, tears and sad whining gushed from Cynder when the brume cleared.

When she saw all nine bodies on the ground.

When Joshua stood alone, his body stainless, no longer spotted with gaping wounds. His shirt hang from his body, ripped in many places. No better than the rags donned by the homeless and destitute.

In one split second, nine dragons had been killed. None of them even put up a fight. They were gone. Snuffed out. Utterly and completely dead. And Infernus, the Guardian Candidate, was among the fallen. Cynder shuddered. Among all Warfang Dragons, his unwelcoming personality was as eminent as his great, brutish strength. The vermillion beast was tougher than Ignitus, and if someone could have survived the Ring of Fire alone, it would have been him.

Cynder personally knew all these dragons, and four of them had struck some level of friendship with her, in spite of her dark past. Seeing them truly and conclusively dead pulled a sense of loss out of the dragoness. She would never see Skyfire's ascension to Senior Apprentice, never enjoy her company in her expeditions, and never see her weep the day she found her lost family. The halls of the Warfang Temple would never be the same without Permias charming—flirting with Blizzara. Even Sandstone's pestering would be missed, all his incessant questions about Cynder's species, the "Lost Element" of Wind, and his yearning to understand the history of the Dragon Realms—to accompany the two Saviors outside Warfang with their explorations. Thundorus would never egg her and Spyro to go out patrolling with him and his partner in the city, do his part to get Cynder accepted by the multitude of immigrants moving into the City of Dragons.

But the boiling hate that often accompanied such bereavement never came. Her heart—her soul roiled from a turbid discord, even as she watched Rimeer take command and demand Joshua's immediate execution.

Because none of this would have happened if Infernus didn't attack the human.

Because Joshua Renalia no longer wanted to fight.

Unfortunately, the reality was Joshua still needed to defend himself. Yet everyone else saw red. A cheetah, enraged by the loss, drew an arrow on his bow and let it loose. The white aegis that apparently blocked all of the known Elements reappeared; Cynder saw how the guard's bolt went straight through and pierced the furless ape in the upper arm.

"So that's his weakness," she mumbled to herself. An alert—a watchful Joshua Renalia in full control of his power could never be hurt by an elemental attack, since the human could, in theory, deflect it away, block it, or use it against the Dragons. Even rocks generated by an Earth Dragon were no exception. But long-range projectiles? Like arrows? Or a catapult's stones?

Cynder wasn't the only one who noticed.

Rimeer growled, staring at the remaining dragons in the group of soldiers. "All dragons!" he commanded, voice replete with strength. Many of the addressed were adolescents—all ranked Senior Associates or lower, according to the current system—for all the young adults, all of the Apprentice-level dragons fell with Infernus. "Take wing and flank the furless ape. Under all circumstances, do not approach him!" The Ice Dragon raised a paw, ogling the other races. "The rest of you, draw your bows and shoot him up!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Joshua begged, clasping his hands together, as if in prayer. "I'M SORRY! I know I killed all these people, and I'm f*cking sorry! But this isn't completely my fault! I can't control my Element! It does whatever it wants; I can't rein it in. I can't even hold back if I wanted to. This"—the human gestured to all the dead around him, all the dead scattered before the Gates of Warfang—"Mother of God, I wanted to avoid all of this."

"Then you should have walked away," countered the Ice Dragon. "Or you should have surrendered when—

"NO! Spyro and the Guardians are my only hope! That's why I didn't want to fight; I only wanted to talk. You were even going to let me through!" He glared angrily at Infernus's corpse beside him. "But this piss-poor excuse for a Guardian SLANDERED me, and you, y-you, y-y-y-you had to f*cking listen to him!" He snapped off a piece of the arrow sticking out of his arm. He tossed it away. Subsequently, without warning he vitiated the cadaver and spat on it. "Well I'm glad this f*cker's stone dead now. Good riddance."

Rimeer snarled. "How dare you! He was the Tenth Candidate for the Fire Guard—

"He's an INSULT to Ignitus! A jerk like that? I bet he bullied everyone to get to the top. Spyro would never allow it!"

Cynder recognized the deference Joshua held for the deceased Guardian, and was stunned the human even knew of his wisdom. Spyro always told her he was the sagest of the Guardians, and he loathed Infernus's brand of leadership as much as she detested his relentless, insensitive jabs at her past. The Savior had no idea what to make of this situation, of this development. Joshua had a point. After the little girl lashed out at her and the entire crowd panicked into chaos, she remembered Infernus had Spyro all to himself. Clearly the Guardian Candidate turned the Purple Dragon of Legend against him, even dissolving all her credibility right in front of him.

But Joshua was still the one who hurt Spyro, the one who killed her friends, the one who snuffed the lives of these people… the one who also helped him. Cynder nearly flopped to the grass again at the discord running through her. Was Joshua an enemy? Was he a friend? Or was he a disaster waiting to happen?

"Infernus was still my friend," Rimeer gnarled. "All those dragons you killed, they're my friends. My brothers from the Temple! You even finished off the Purple Dragon!"

"What!" Joshua blanched at the accusation and corrected him. "No, you idiot! I was trying to stabilize him and by some miracle I managed it. He's still alive! So if you guys can just stop all this f*cking crap, work together, and f*cking leave me alone, you can really help Spyro. And maybe, just maybe, he'll be flying around doing his 'Savior' stuff first thing tomorrow morn—

"Enough stalling!" A booming rumble cut him off. "All of you. PUT HIM DOWN!"

"Oh, F*CK ME!" Joshua Renalia broke into a sprint. A mad dash towards Kilat and Spyro. "I'm getting the hell out of here!"

The remaining dragon guards spread their wings and shot into the air. They circled the field, maintained distance as mandated by Rimeer, and bombarded the fleeing human with an array of elemental attacks fit for their current level of experience. Joshua dodged and sidestepped without looking at the glowing spheres of light raining down, relying completely on his unheard-of ability to sense the attacks.

Cynder watched him raise his hand, palm open, facing a particular orb coming his way. She recognized the movement, associated it with the very same used to deftly manipulate her globs of Poison away. But instead of a successful redirection, nothing happened. Joshua grimaced. "Damn it, not now!" He twisted, narrowly avoiding a rock aimed for his neck.

His second attempt failed. "F*cking work, goddammi—crap!" He leaped over a Polar Bomb targeting his legs, but he ran straight into an arrow, which struck his thigh and stayed there. "ARGH!" Joshua Renalia stumbled, and terror filled his eyes. Flashed across his face. The white shield appeared behind him, as if evoked by raw survival instinct, but it reeled under the large number of Elements coming its way.

Joshua paled at the way it oscillated with every sphere it absorbed. Panicked, he turned, raised his hand, and viridian eyes wholly focusing on the pallid aegis, clenched his fist—no, flexed his fingers. Buttressed by his concentrated efforts, the bulwark absorbing every Element steadied, though only a little. Cynder realized it was weaker. So much weaker than before. She remembered how firm the last time the White Shield appeared. Unwavering. Unyielding despite everything being thrown at it.

With his attention occupied, an opportunistic dragon circled around the furless ape and opened fire from above. A frustrated grunt flew from his lips; Joshua raised his other hand in a third attempt to turn the elemental attack away. He succeeded, but barely, for he jolted—flinched when the projectile almost struck his hips. "Jesus-Mary-Joseph!"

Cynder heard arrows being drawn and nocked. Rather than observing Joshua's reaction from her splayed position on the grass, she wrenched her emerald eyes away from the scene and gazed at Spyro's unconscious form. Wake up, she willed the body. Please, wake up. Someone needed to stop this. Someone had to step in! She'd stop the maelstrom if she could; Ancestors, why was Joshua's power so effective? Minutes had long passed and until now the world still pulsed—still seesawed if she ever so much as endeavored to stand, a feat rendered impossible at any rate by the mere fact her paws shivered madly, too weak—too feeble to hold her own weight.

The former Terror of the Skies feared.

She feared her beloved would once again be in life-threatening danger.

She feared the stress—the anxiety accumulating quickly on Joshua's shoulders would activate his power at its worst once again.

She feared the tragedy wouldn't end at a body count of 16 if this farce kept going. Her insides churned. Either Joshua had to be subdued or the guards had to stop.

The Purple Dragon of Legend did not wake up, despite the prayers Cynder sent to the Ancestors watching all of them. She hoped for something—for anything to help her resolve this—

Something shattered.

Then Joshua Renalia screamed.

Cynder turned immediately at the voice. Her gaze found a gilded arrow penetrating him—shooting straight through his body. She saw the mechanical broadhead tip swing its five blades out as it struck the human and instantly Cynder recognized the unusual design. It was one of the latest innovations from the moles, developed specifically for use against the large, unarmored Apes like those who often held the Commander position…

As well as the new, compact variant that began popping up after the War, multiples more intelligent, more hostile—more brutal to dragonkind than any of the others. The kind of Ape Lord Caesar was. The kind of Ape this "human" resembled.

Heavier, fitted with sharper blades, and certainly more expensive to manufacture than the common arrow used in wartime, that it speared right through Joshua did not surprise Cynder. It entered his stomach and exited right through the side, taking the bottom of his torn, ragged shirt with it. His arms flailed; he stumbled. He crashed into the ground, contorting during his descent.

Joshua's barrier simultaneously broke, and as its toothed pieces scattered, dispersed into the air, a large fireball made its way towards the human. It missed only because of his fall. Yet it struck the ground in front of him, unleashing a small explosion that hurtled him into the air and pushed him towards Cynder—away from Spyro, away from Kilat.

Neither of them locked eyes. Joshua's gaze had spaced out, seemingly tracking everything moving around him. But Cynder saw the fear on his face. She bore witness to his desperation. Watched his mouth move, uttering a single word as he tried to turn around, to reach the little girl far behind him.

One of the archers saw this. He cheered, "Look, the Ape is cowering in its own blood!"

"The barrier's down!" pronounced one of the Associate dragons. Triumphant roars followed his holler. "Keep attacking! Don't stop until the monkey's dead!"

Spyro's mate saw differently. The Savior grasped the true situation, comprehending why Joshua Renalia took her and Spyro down easily. Why his power lashed out the way it did. Why it responded so easily to his desires yet, at the same time, refused to bow down to his feeble control. It explained his claims. It explained his apparent immunity to the Fear breath. It explained why he became the struggling human again after he and Sparx spoke.

Ancestors, they weren't winning! They weren't on the cusp of victory. They were nowhere near it! In reality, the guards were teetering on the edge of death. None of them realized that if they pushed Joshua some more and sent a few more lethal attacks his way, it would end in another unprecedented catastrophe. He didn't need Spirit Gems to recover his wounds when he could instead literally drain the life out of them. Did the guards forget what he did to one of their own? Did they forget the spots of dead grass scattered in front of the Eastern Gate?

"S-stop," Cynder croaked. Her voice was weak. But her determination to save these people—save the very people Spyro fought for—compelled her to raise her voice. "Everyone, stop!" She swallowed the saliva pooling in her jaws. Cynder tried again, and verbalized louder. "Don't attack him! He—

Whack! A cerulean paw slammed into her snout; the black dragoness coasted across the grass.

"Defending Lord Caesar's furless ape, are you?" leered a familiar voice.

Rimeer.

Of course it was him.

The resentful lizard wouldn't dare relinquish an opportunity to kill a dragoness he hated but couldn't outmatch, not while she was barely capable of defending herself. "Go fly in a volcano. He, he isn't working for Lord Caesar. Joshua's—

"It doesn't matter. We can't let him live. His ability's too dangerous."

"No. It's misunderstood. They're agitating him. " In reply, the Ice Dragon pawed closer, glaring down at the famed Heroine of the Dragon Realms. Cynder crawled back, refusing to submit. "If this doesn't stop, they'll end up like…"

Like her.

Like Spyro.

Like Infernus.

Rimeer, however, easily traversed the gap between them in a few paces. "Like—URK!" He pounded her back, stomping his foot down so hard it cut off Cynder, disabled her crawling, and now the adolescent dragoness could do nothing but stare up at the adult above her.

"We will kill that hoo-man before it happens," he said. The derision in his tone eclipsed what reassurance that sentence should have had. "Really, Cynder, you should worry more about yourself." Her name was spat out, articulated with unrestrained revulsion. "Because you'll be dead long before then."

She growled. "Y-you, you despicable worm! The Guardians acquitted me four years ago! Or did you forget, how I fought beside Spyro? How we took down the Dark Master together?"

"I don't care if you're one of our Saviors," the Ice Dragon answered back. "I don't care what those old coots think. I joined the Temple only so I can get close to you, so I can have the influence I need. The families you destroyed still demand justice for all the tragedies you caused on Malefor's behalf."

Joshua's pathetic whimpers floated in her ear, imploring the guards to stop. "Just let me go," she heard his whining. "Please, let me go. I'll leave you alone. Just stop, I'm begging you…"

They had to stop, NOW! Ancestors damn this. If she didn't feel so lightheaded, if her senses weren't in disarray, Cynder could have done something by now. Letting her own rage guide her, the Savior stared up at the dragon on top of her. "Spyro will—

"The Purple Dragon is not here to save you, demon." A wad of spit flew out of his snout, landing on Cynder's. "When that silly insect brings the Guardians here, I will blame everything on the hoo-man. Our two Heroes, Infernus, and all the 15 guards lying dead here. The furless ape killed them all, but I took charge and successfully defeated him and put his head on a spike. Cyril will make me his first Ice Guardian Candidate."

"But the other guards will see you. They—

"Will take my side," Rimeer spoke. "To me, to many in Warfang, and to all the dragons immigrating into my city, you will always be the Terror of the Skies. The people will always look at you as Malefor's pet monster."

His confidence unnerved her. "You're wrong! I've already atoned for what I've done, and I'm still making up for it, aren't I? I've even made a few friends with some of the—UGH!"

Rimeer forced his paw down. "The minority don't make up the people any more than the Guardians don't speak for any of them." He dug his claws deeper, their sharp ends beginning to pierce his prisoner's smooth, black scales. "Nothing you do will truly atone for what you did in the war, Cynder." Azure light seeped through the cracks in his throat. "Nothing, but death."

Another scream thundered the air. "AHHHH!" It was Joshua, yelling for dear life.

The adult dragon ceased his execution. He postponed it, body turning rigid while he made sense of the yelling coming from the Associates and the archers entrusted with the responsibility of saving Warfang from the furless ape.

"Spirits, he's regenerating!"

"How? I don't see Spirit Gems!"

"He's absorbing our Elements! For the love of the Ancestors, stop attacking. Dragons, stop and let the archers—

"We can't give up now! Attack harder. Shoot faster!"

A white glow illuminated the field. Cynder's body cast a long, dark shadow.

"What is that?"

"No more," Joshua muttered under his breath. "Oh god, no more. No more. No more, no more. Please, no more. Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."

Cynder trained her viridian eyes in the human's direction and gasped in horror as she processed the large, glowing sphere of light floating above him. Ancestors, I was afraid this would happen. The massive globe rippled ominously.

A courageous Atlawa stepped forth and took aim at Joshua, gripping three arrows nocked into the bow, loaded and ready to fire. He released the projectiles—

A split second.

It took only a split second for the white matter to react.

Pale lances of light sprouted out of the great ball. Numerous, Cynder couldn't track them all, though what little she saw perturbed her enough. In a heartbeat, the spears of light shot out at every archer, at every dragon flying in the sky. It exploded into little bolts of white lightning on contact. The victims died at once, their bodies ballooning—rotting black in an instant. Their gaping snouts exemplified the extreme torment they suffered in that one moment, eyes bulging out from a horror the Savior didn't dare describe.

Every shooter on the ground was dead, while the majority of the dragons escaped unscathed, jerking out of the way at the last second. But those that didn't… they lost something instead. They lost a part of their wings, a limb, or two limbs. Though all somehow managed to remain airborne. And all ogled the human kneeling in front of them.

Seemingly defenseless, and once again, spotless.

"Monster!"

"He's a monster!"

"AN APE DEMON!"

"Ancestors! Fly for your lives!"

"Run, run, run, ruuuuuun!"

"Ayiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

Rimeer stared up at them, unable to comprehend what just happened. "C-come back!" he stuttered, the urgency in his inflection displaying his losing grip and the desperation to regain control. "You shameful cowards, get back here! I'll report your spinelessness to the Guardians and the Warfang Council!" A handful of the Senior Associates stayed behind, as did a few of the other guards, all concerned with the threat Rimeer held over their necks. "Your career and your life in this city will—WHAT THE?"

With Rimeer distracted by this momentary diversion, Cynder made her move. She had to go dark. It was the only way to escape the adult's weight. The dragoness focused on the feeling of safety—the floating sensation of nothingness that came whenever she drew on the Shadow Element. She brought out the ferocious warmth it evoked, wrapped herself in it as it danced around her scales, tendrils flicking in the air with the tranquility of a calm, night sky.

Of a good dream.

Cynder sunk deep into the bosom of this empressement, surrounding her entire body within it. Now and truly cloaked beneath her shadows, the Savior swam through it. She guided her senses through the fog of black smoke surely spreading away from Rimeer, making her way to its very borders. For every stroke, for every movement, she went in the direction she saw the human last.

Knock him out or, better yet, pacify him. That's what she'd do, Cynder decided. Promise she wouldn't let the others kill him for merely defending himself against the speciesists and the vengeful. Although Joshua never gave the dragoness a reason to trust him—and until now she was still unsure of his intentions for the Guardians or for that matter, the City of Dragons—as long as his life wasn't under imminent duress then they could all sort this situation out peacefully. At worst, the young man would be exiled forever from Warfang and thankfully, judging by her short interaction with him, he didn't seem the type to rebel or act out of spite.

At this point Cynder's good fortune ran out.

Nausea afflicted the dragoness for no reason, ramifying quickly into the loss of the warmth that had carried her throughout this escape attempt. Spyro's beloved mate blinked, the dancing shadows fading away from the world as she felt the soft grass tickling her maroon belly. The headache magnified during her subsequent bid to enshroud herself. Forced to abort her efforts, Cynder made to stand…

And she collapsed after a couple steps, legs still quaking. It was now that the dragoness noticed Joshua was still a blur, and the ambient smells were not as intense and vibrant as they usually were. Ancestors, she grumbled. I'm still in recovery. Joshua's White Breath had obviously done far more than enfeeble her. It did not simply afflict her with temporary blindness, deafness, anosmia, and vertigo; it also undermined her mastery over her elements simultaneously.

The person responsible for her condition hyperventilated before her, his body listless and enervated. He directed his gaze into the sky, but Cynder felt he was in no position to accurately track their movements. Her affinity for the Fear Element allowed her to sense the human's lingering terror, still bubbling within even if her eyes and ears were still a little compromised.

Twin emerald orbs looked up. The few dragons remaining behind out of respect—or perhaps out of fear for Rimeer's authority and influence hovered above them, soaring silently as they waited for a command. Cynder put it upon herself to take initiative. "Get out of here," she shouted, authority infusing her command. "Find the Guardians. Bring them here! But they mustn't do anything to the furless ape until they speak with me first."

An icicle clouted Cynder, splintering into pieces the second it smashed into the back of her head. The blow disconcerted the dragoness—intensified her nausea. Her vision went double—went triple, and the world moved in circles.

"You're not getting away, Terror of the Skies." Rimeer brought his paw down and thumped her. Cynder did not have the luxury of groaning when the Ice Dragon shoved her onto her back, forced her to look straight into his rancorous glare. Standing on top of her shoulders, the Heroine of the Dragon Realms could no longer move. He even rendered her tail immobile. "A lot of people want you dead. I promise you, Warfang will start breathing easy knowing you're gone. And if the ugly truth ever gets out?"

Rimeer glanced at Kilat, unconscious but on the brink of awakening. He laughed. "That brainwashed child will be happy when she learns I exacted vengeance on her behalf." He glowered down at Cynder, who saw all the ire—all the odium she never noticed in all the times she spoke with this Senior Fellow at the Temple surfacing from their hidden depths. "The Purple Dragon of Legend will hate me for a while, but even he will eventually accept me as a hero, once he comes to terms with the fact you've always been on the side of darkness and he never noticed because he was all caught up in your cloaca." He gazed up at the Senior Associates, chuckling. "Isn't that right, boys?"

Cynder turned away. Away from the manipulative Rimeer, from his apathetic lackeys, and from the terrified human. She ogled the red and green crystals sprouting out of the ground close to her, just out of her paws' reach. A few tears dripped out of her eyes. The people of Warfang could never let go of the past, it seemed to her, even if she devoted the rest of her life to helping others, even if she had shed her guilt for everything she'd done, once upon a time.

Rimeer moved his paw from her shoulder to her face. "Any last words?" He asked. The question was no more disdainful than it was sardonic.

The dragoness focused on the Spirit Gems. "No," came her response. "I don't." That she would never get to say goodbye to Spyro saddened her immensely, but Cynder refused to give the Ancestors-damned conspirator the satisfaction of hearing her regrets, of even seeing her tears. She was far too strong and prideful to let the Ice Dragon bask in her weaknesses.

Without supplying a reply back, Rimeer shunted down as hard as he could, putting all his weight, all his strength into crushing her skull. In moments, the Savior's bones fractured, and agony erupted from all the nerves on her head when her snout began to cave in, began to bleed.

Cynder screeched.

The world began to darken, just as she heard someone cry her name…

Author's notes:

My apologies for the delay. The 16th chapter had been ready for writing for at least three of the past four weeks already, but I got busy with a lot of things so I had little time for it. I climbed up the highest mountain in Texas last Saturday, and I even got to go to the largest chamber cave in the United States the day after that. Fun times, fun times. Also had to go through major life decisions as well. Long story short, I'm moving back to the Philippines in December this year for both personal and career-oriented reasons, and I'll be a very, very busy man. Probably won't have as much time to spend on writing fanfiction (I already have no time at all for video games, sadly), but I'll try to make up some time.

At any rate, my efforts in revising the master outline for this story arc is a success. The "Gates of Warfang" arc has now been shortened by a full two chapters, so the denouement—and conclusion—of this arc will be happening before this story hits the 20th chapter.

Just as a reference though, with regards to the rankings briefly mentioned in Cynder's POV (e.g. "Associate", "Apprentice", Senior Fellow"), these will be explained eventually. There is a progression, of course.

Once again, if you got feedback, criticisms, or comments, please don't hesitate to leave a review.

Finally, I'd also like to credit GoldenGriffiness for the small amount of help she provided in this chapter. She gave me the names of the dead, nameless OCs Cynder was remembering and also directed me to both the the 1st chapter of Safe and Sound and the 56th chapter of The Legend of Cynder: Night Terrors for inspiration on describing Cynder's sensory deprivation in this chapter as well as her use of the Shadow Element, close to the end.

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Now to address some of the new reviews I've gotten. Again, for the guests who are leaving feedback on the story, I highly recommend signing in or creating an FFN account. Doing so will at least enable me to converse with you and you won't have to wait for the next update for any responses.

To Lonewolf: It goes without saying that Joshua's Element is capable of plenty, since I've demonstrated a versatile arsenal of defensive, supportive, utility, and offensive applications over the last 16 chapters.

All the natural properties of the Unknown Element, its capabilities, its weaknesses/limitations, and its requirements for mastery are all already fleshed out, meaning I'm not pulling out all these feats Joshua's been doing from my ass. From my perspective as the writer, the "Gates of Warfang" story arc has a dual purpose: it aims to both establish the context of Joshua's settlement and the unique capabilities of his only power.

I'll have to admit, the passive abilities are incredible by themselves. As established in the first story arc, Joshua can sense the "presence" of another living being in any direction so long as it's within a certain range, which can be extended to Element usage, specific identification, and vague sensing of emotions, provided he practices. He can also locate Spirit Gems at farther distances and possesses a survivalist's foraging instincts.

Had he been a seasoned veteran warrior instead of a sheltered geek who lived a mundane, sedentary life on Earth, he wouldn't have needed to master any of the active abilities of the Unknown Element. Hell, if he had to use it, he'd probably have had much better control over it – maybe enough to actually spare Kilat from life as a cripple and save both Lani and Explodon, way back in Chapter 5.

But where's the fun in that? Aimless strives to be on another level than most fics in this genre, and I happen to enjoy breaking common tropes. :D

To Guest1: It'll get better for him soon. Well, relatively speaking.

To Guest3: M-rated why? Joshua has a dirty mouth but from the fandom I come from, that's not really a strong enough reason to warrant an M. I'm not exactly showing blood, guts, gore, or even societally subversive themes here. *shrugs*

To Guest6: A few problems with that suggestion. First, Cynder and Sparx are aware he knows things that were kept secret from the people of Warfang and from the Guardians themselves. Hiding it under the rug by "a story" is not going to work. Second, there are no benefits whatsoever in telling them he is from "another world", while the risks with revealing that are quite high, since it may have negative repercussions for him. Remember that the Dragon Realms is not his Neverland to fulfill his fantasies.

To the other Guests clamoring for updates: Sorry, but I update on my own schedule. I love reading reviews and everything, but to maintain the high quality of writing, I write only when I'm feeling the inspiration. Just having the outline 100% prepared and ready to go isn't enough. This story is proof in itself. I started Aimless because I lacked the inspiration to write a 20,000-word update for my main fic. XD

To maga: Oh, that's real easy. In his illusion, Joshua was pulled into Malefor's castle floating above the Burned Lands, except the "Burned Lands" turned out to be a part of Earth, not the Dragon Realms. He saw his parents dead, an adult and possessed Cynder, and every other person (Cheetahs, Atlawas, and Moles) he saw as an Ape, a Troll, or an Orc. Dragons he saw as Wyverns or Dreadwings. He only realized he was hallucinating after seeing Spyro and Sparx together.

04/29/2019 UPDATE: Fixed Author's Notes. Removed most hints and spoilers.