Aimless

by The Silent Insomniac

Joshua Renalia finds himself lost in the Dragon Realms with nothing but his sleeping clothes, his knowledge of Spyro lore, and a power beyond his understanding. Cut off from all he knows, the human discovers Spyro's world is alien, unforgiving, brutally shattering his naive expectations. How long can he live here before going insane? Is there a way back home? Why is he even here?

46. (BW) (1M2W) Frostbite Village 1

Author's Notes:

Aaaand it's good to have another update in these difficult times.

The whole COVID-19 shit is hitting very close to home now. One of my coworkers tested positive on Monday, August 10th through the Chinese rapid antibody tests and the diagnosis was confirmed when we received the swab results the other day. Behind-the-scenes I'm freaking out considering that I talk to her at least once a day at the office, and I went to the office on fucking Monday.

Right now I feel fine, but I'm keeping a very close eye on my health. It's only been four days since the most recent direct exposure (and another few days since the prior exposure to that coworker), so… fingers crossed! In the meantime, I am coping thanks to my waifu (who has finally moved in) and the stories I write. :D

Speaking of which, I had a choice between 1M2W or 2M for the Chapter 46 timestamp. I went with the former since it's as precise as I want it to be. It basically reads "one month, two weeks after Joshua's arrival", and I hope it isn't too much of an eyesore.

Word count - a little over 15,300. This is a long one!

Finally, another shoutout to strykeruk for his excellent work in beta-reading my story. A good job as always. Here's a message from him: "Hey all Strykeruk here. Not much I can add that Silent hasn't covered except to heap more praise on the man himself and his rapid writing speeds. enjoy the chapter!"

Timestamp key: "D" for days, "W" for weeks, "M" for months, "Y" for years, "EM" for early morning, "LM" for late morning, "EA" for early afternoon, "LA" for late afternoon, "EE" for early evening, "LN" for late night, and "AD" for all day. Note that the Realms follows the sexagesimal system for keeping time, just like Earth. (In other words, 60 seconds per minute and 60 minutes per hour.)

Snip category key: There are four categories of snips. "Settling In", "City Life", "Beyond the Wall", and "The Journey Home". All four represent parallel storylines that take place within Aimless, and other than "Settling In", each snip category has at least two subtypes. Those subtypes aren't listed due to potential spoilers.

Enjoy!

---

Beyond the Wall: Ape Menace

Chapter 46: Frostbite Village 1

"Mountain climbing is extended periods of intense boredom, interrupted by occasional moments of sheer terror."

~ Unknown

---

[1M2W/AD]

---

The hike from Uzali to Eyria started off on a good note.

With the mountain range as a towering wall in the distance, Altai flew above the center of the caravan together with Claytor and Nuodai, an Ice dragon who hailed from what had been the village of Pystis before the Apes had their way with it. Just like before, Spyro accompanied the rearmost wagon. Bianca, the newest addition to their group of soldiers and messengers-cum-village heirs, remained mostly out of sight, to Altai's relief. She'd been avoiding her since this morning, unable to forget the sickening feeling that crawled all over her scales when she revealed that horrid weapon.

The roads leading away from Uzali were wide and heavily worn from decades—centuries of use. Trodden upon by paws, hooves, boots, and wheels alike, it cleaved a clear path across the rolling plains. As a whole the roads to December were on a slight incline, one that wasn't so obvious from above. In just three hours the caravan entered a thick pine forest and the land began its long ascent. All of a sudden the road narrowed and weeds sprouted everywhere along the path. It got to the point where Claytor had to touch down and lead the vintaine from the front.

Every dragon flying with him instantly dropped altitudes. The forest canopy was thick and a careless flyer could easily lose sight of a pawful of wagons ascending the hillside. Altai glanced up at the rest of the mountain before following her betters. The Ice dragon wilted at the sheer size of the mountain. It didn't look this gigantic when they left Uzali; it certainly didn't have all the other bigger and taller mountains standing far behind it, with their peaks and valleys hidden within the clouds.

No wonder this trip would take another week! With all the spare equipment and emergency supplies loaded on every wagon, it would be quite the effort to haul each one up and down the steep slopes of the mountain range, all the way to Eyria. Flight would definitely cut the time by half. Altai knew every dragon in their group could be flying above the clouds by the time the next hour was done.

But she remembered her mother always warning her about the treacherous winds of December and the risk of being either smashed into a rock wall or flung away into Devil's Reach.

Altai glanced at Nuodai and, with a nod and a cautionary warning of her own, dropped down to ground level. For the next three days, she journeyed together with the bipeds, sometimes spending hours oversleeping in the messengers' wagon. The dragoness made it a point to avoid Sorceress Bianca whenever possible, to the extent she would duck away to hide even her curved, wavy horns from sight and ate game away from either Spyro or Claytor.

She had hoped to get to Eyria without speaking with the rabbit; unfortunately, her efforts were doomed to failure. On the fourth morning of their trip, the relaxed slope of the hills became a prominent incline. The caravan emerged into a space devoid of pine trees, while the path instantly narrowed into a steep climb. Luckily whoever forged this path in the centuries past must have used wagons or employed Mole engineering, as it wasn't so steep that wagons found it impassable. Praise Egeria.

The bare mountain slope was lined with boulders, jagged rocks, a scant few weeds, and, as it was in the entirety of the Dragon Realms, the odd Spirit Gem here and there. Their caravan moved along a path carved into the rock, one that slowly zigged and zagged up the mountain range in switchback formations. There were times when the path would drop a little, moving to another mountain as it was simply too steep for another switchback.

Altai started noticing how tall poles with wide foundations, each lined and topped with white crystals, lined the edges of the path. They looked similar to some of those that bordered what the Warfang guard called speedways in their fine city. No, they were identical!

Altai studied one as the caravan passed it, her eyes so locked on the pile of crystals bolted to the top that she never noticed a rabbit in black robes approaching her until it was too late. "Never traveled during the Long Winter, have you?"

Altai squeaked. She jolted away from Bianca as though she was about to thrust a sword into her pale white underbelly. The fact she was tall enough to have their eyes level while on all fours looked so ludicrous even her reaction had the sorceress giggling. "Hahahaha… You act as if I want to kill you, Altai. Don't worry. I don't bite." She spread her arms, revealing nothing in her hands. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Altai only had an uncertain, if wary, gaze for the witch in response. She didn't quite believe her. Her eyes focused on the ring on her finger. Who knew what else she had inside that thing? She was shuddering when Bianca's expression softened. "Awww, did I scare the young reptile last night?"

"W-well… your sword…"

"Will stay sheathed and hidden as a last resort," the rabbit replied. "There's a good reason why I don't use it often."

"O-okay," Altai said. She forced herself to calm down. It was difficult, suppressing the urge to flee from Bianca, but she managed after a few deep sighs. They passed another crystal-topped pole. "So, Miss, M-Miss Bianca, why did you ask if I've traveled during the Long Winter? What's that got to do with these posts?"

"This part of the Realms is pitch black during the Long Winter—

"I know that. I live further up north from here."

Bianca continued as though Altai never spoke, "And blanketed in deep snow, just like December and everything else north of it. The crystals illuminate the path for those who travel during the Long Winter; they also delineate its boundaries." She raised her sleeve and pointed to another set of poles ahead, moving her arm sideways. "Move astray into the darkness of an endless night, veer out of bounds a little, and you might just slip to your death. Nobody would even hear you scream."

"I'm not biped, Miss Bianca. I can fly."

"Never went up Dragon Rock or Mystic Pinnacle either, I see."

Altai snapped her head at Bianca, having recognized the names as famous landmarks visible from Eyria airspace. "Of course not! Everybody says I'm still too young to go up there!" She pointed the tip of her wing at Spyro, one of the few dragons who were still flying above the caravan. "I have to be at least his size before the adults will let me fly up there, and Mother of Knowledge, I verified that myself, believe me."

"That means you've never had a taste of true winter winds," Bianca said. "The turbulence above December is at all times difficult to navigate—to control. Simply maintaining your bearings is a tough battle. I won't be surprised if successfully flying the entire way to either point is a rite of passage for every young drake or hen up there. I'd conduct such a test every summer when the winds are weakest."

"You're right. Eyria and the other villages hold annual flights every summer. We just couldn't hold it this year because of the Apes and"—Altai choked on her words and gasped—"W-wait a minute!" She stammered, "How do you know that? You even talk like you've actually flown before."

"I travel a lot," Bianca answered. "Mistress Cauldra is further along her path of truth and requires various things for, experiments. I gather those things for her, even perform experiments of my own so she doesn't have to." Just like that night in Cloud 9, the sorceress seemed to have a confident response prepared for Altai. The vague distrust she held towards Bianca was weaker than it had been that time; still, the dragoness felt she had no choice but to take her word as it was. "You learn a lot of things when you travel."

"But I never saw you, or even heard about you, in Eyria, Pystis, or any of the other villages! How could—

"I know plenty of utility spells for the occasion. I can mask my presence. I can repel light from touching my body. I can also fly—

"But bipeds can't fly. None of you have wings."

Bianca laughed. "I don't need that, Altai. I'm a Magus."

That reminded her of a question she wanted to ask the other night. As much as the dragoness wanted to leave the witch to her own devices and retire to the privacy of the messengers' wagon, Altai couldn't resist satiating her own curiosity because spellcasters were rare to find. "What is a Magus anyway? What makes you different from other magicians?"

Bianca's fingers darted out of her sleeves. She scratched her chin as she gazed at the slopes below. "Hmm, I suppose I can tell you. But what good will knowing that do? It's worthless for somebody like you."

A light growl rumbled out of Altai's throat. Another thing she didn't like about Bianca was her condescending way of speaking. Just because she wasn't a mage, "Magus", or whatever she called herself didn't mean she was worth any less as an individual. Every dragon—no, every good person in this world meant something, whatever species they were. Lifebringer's tail, even people who didn't—who couldn't—soar high in the skies possessed an intrinsic value by themselves.

Altai's displeasure showed in her voice. "Does it even matter, Miss Bianca? I want to know. It's true I won't get any lift from it, but Uncle Gileao always says it's better to grow wise than to remain ignorant."

The sorceress acquiesced, "If you insist. Let's begin with what makes witches and wizards different from ordinary folk in the Realms before we talk about distinguishing a Magus from the typical mage."

Bianca did most of the talking now. She explained that magic was the alteration—the manipulation of the physical world using energy drawn from either oneself or the natural surroundings. Altai understood it to be a field of mental focus, for only through the deliberate will of persons gifted with the ability to sense and manipulate mana could spells be made manifest in the world and realize their effects, albeit subject to the laws of physics.

"Then can't dragons be magicians?" Altai asked. "The process you're describing sounds similar to how I use my Ice element."

"Your process is similar, but not the same. The magic of the Elements is driven by instinct. You feel where your mana is going. You feel how you manipulate your mana." Bianca reached out with her hand and touched the guiding pole next to the cliff. "It's identical to the way I feel the flesh in my entire arm moving—stretching while I extend it and experience the cold touch of the metal as I brush my fingers on the post."

Altai was so engrossed in their conversation that she never realized Bianca had been walking this entire time on foot without showing signs of exhaustion. "Ice dragons feel the freezing chill spreading throughout their body when they tap into their element. To Fire dragons, it's scorching heat. Electric dragons, a tingling, if painful sensation. Do you understand me now? Dragons cannot be magicians because all of you are naturally attuned to the element Alona assigned you. This prevents you from casting spells of any sort."

Bianca turned and pointed at Spyro, who was conversing with Nuodai at the back of the caravan. "Even he can't cast spells."

"Lord Spyro can't use magic like you? You're pulling my tail!"

"I'm not. Spyro can do what he can because he bears the element of Convexity, but that doesn't mean he can cast spells or employ magic tools the same way I can. He depends entirely on somatic gestures and sheer force of power. Believe me, I put him through some tests the last time we saw each other."

That... kind of explained Spyro's outburst back in Cloud 9. Altai guessed Bianca wanted to perform another experiment with him. The last one must have ended badly, judging by the Savior's reaction.

"I feel like I just had the winds snatched out from under my wings," Altai said, gloomily.

"That's why I said the knowledge won't help you. Dragons simply can't be magicians. It can't be helped; you were hatched that way."

"At least I learned something. Then what makes a Magus different from every other mage?"

"It's a matter of philosophy," Bianca explained. "The average mage seeks power. They experience myriad dangers in the Realms and face off strong, if unbeatable, foes as they try to figure out their place. Magi like me are more interested in knowledge."

"What do you mean? Isn't that the same thing?" Altai tilted her muzzle, confused. "Knowledge is power."

Bianca hissed at her in a way that sounded insulting. She swept her large, floppy ears back and brushed aside the tuft of hair drooping over her forehead. "Not that kind of knowledge. Magi question why things are the way they are. Have you ever wondered why dragons can use the elements? Why they are the only ones who can harness the Spirit Gems?"

"Uhm, no—

"Ever noticed how the land just rises up from the horizon whenever you're really high in the air? Or how the sky in the middle of the day turns dark the higher up you go? Have you ever asked yourself that?" Bianca eyed her, for the first time holding seriousness within her gaze. "When you look at the stars, do you wonder if there are other worlds out there? If there's life beyond the Dragon Realms? If our universe is the only one? If there's someone who designed the reality we exist in, the life we live today, and the rules we all follow? A Divine Architect, so to speak?"

Altai broke eye contact. The questions overwhelmed her. Every now and then, such thoughts had come across her mind, even Selema's. Yet that's all they remained: thoughts. Nothing more. Other matters grounded her and many others before her—stopped her from flying so high she could actually fall. "Do, d-do you seriously try to answer those? They, don't really mean anything. What do they have to do with my life? With yours? I don't see how even knowing it can be useful…"

"That's what makes a Magus different from all the rest," Bianca said, not even bothering to look at her. "Those are some of the deep, fundamental questions behind all intelligent life. Most people ignore them, but we don't. We don't want unprovable ruminations. We want actual answers—actual solutions. There are countless ways to get them. Countless 'paths of truth' if you will. Every Magus explores, conjectures, experiments, and theorizes according to the tenets of their path, and none will stop until they reach the end, or die trying."

"So you're like scholars?" Altai asked.

The sorceress quipped, "We're better." She did not say it so much as she asserted it with conviction. Altai had other doubts in mind but she couldn't think of a way to inject them into the conversation without offending Bianca. That was a line she did not want to fly over.

The two stopped talking for a while. The slopes had become steeper compared to earlier. The caravan slowed down due to the extra effort needed to push the wagons up against gravity. Altai started feeling the winds flowing upward. It tickled her scales.

"Do you mind if I ask how many Magi there are?" Altai eventually broke the silence between her and the witch. "Is it everybody in Castle Shadowstone?"

"No," Bianca replied. "Just my Mistress and myself. The others are just regular mages trying to get better with their magic. We actually don't know how many Magi there are out there. We're a discreet bunch. A few years ago, my Mistress discovered another reality—

Altai whipped her snout in her direction. "Another reality! You mean another world? I never heard of this! The Allied Territories would be buzzing from the news—

"Keep that to yourself," Bianca stated. "News like that are eventually discredited, Altai, but not before you are permanently silenced."

She grasped the implications easily and went quiet. "I, I understand, Miss Bianca..."

"I hope so," The rabbit said. "As I was saying, my Mistress discovered another reality with confirmed Magi in it. Unfortunately their path of truth involved political rivalries and a bloody survival-of-the-fittest process centered on something called a 'Holy Grail' and incarnations they dubbed 'Servants'. The two of us disagreed with this, so we decided against contacting them and never revisited that reality ever since."

Altai felt dumb when Bianca finished speaking. Her words highlighted just how little the dragoness knew of the wider world beyond the plateau she called home. It almost made the war against Malefor seem sort of trivial. How many people in the Dragon Realms knew there was a whole other universe with intelligent life forms of their own just waiting to be discovered? Forget the unknown lands beyond the world map. This was something grander and more exciting than the expeditions Warfang and Skylands have sent to the other continents in the centuries past.

"Thank you for telling me all this, Miss Bianca" Altai said. "You didn't have to."

Bianca cautiously raised her paw, to slowly stroke at her wavy horns. "You were, curious and I… well, we had plenty of time for some exposition." She gestured to Claytor, who was assisting one of the lead wagons as it descended a slope whilst crossing over to the next mountain. Altai peeked over to her left and squeaked. They were so much higher than before. The pine forest from earlier was still visible from here, but her eyes could no longer see the individual trees.

"We're heading into the clouds!" Claytor yelled. "All eyes on the path and keep going! I'll start looking for a place to rest once we're above them."

Altai heaved a sigh. Her legs were feeling sore from all the walking. Talking with Bianca helped distract her from it. It would've been nice to rest her legs but for some reason, she didn't want the sorceress knowing which wagon she slept in. The knights were resting in rotations, slipping into one of the wagons after Claytor gave his permission.

"You've never gone this way at all, have you?" Bianca suddenly asked.

"H-huh? Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"

"You and the other messengers all come from December, right? You should know where we can rest and how far we could keep going before nightfall." Bianca turned to the sky, her eyes trained on the thick clouds above them. The blue pools seemed to glow a little. "We have half the day left."

"Err, uhm, no. No, we haven't. None of us have. After Selema vanished, village elders all over December became more strict with us whelps. We weren't allowed to go too far out of bounds without adults..."

"The entire region?" Bianca frowned, doubtful. "Was Selema that important to you northern folk?"

"W-well, no," Altai stuttered. "Not, not that important. It's just that…"

The dragoness retreated to days long gone. Days that have been more pleasurable, more… insulated against the horrors of today.

"That what?"

"The nights in December are long and dark, and cold. During the Long Winter, even longer. Darker. Colder. So cold I don't think a fire dragon could survive in our huts." Altai glanced away from Bianca. Her celeste eyes roamed the mists enveloping the path. White, billowing clouds flowed around the entire caravan. Visibility was low. None of the dragons dared to fly anymore. Aside from the heavy grunts of the knights pulling and pushing the vehicles along the steep, boulder-strewn path, she could hear only the howling winds. They were loud, deafening her ears. It would only get worse from here.

Altai continued, "But they're not stormy all the time. It's not like the Aorathan Desert. Aunt Aurona told me it's snowing constantly over there."

"On top of the spatial tears, yes," Bianca interjected to confirm. "If you don't get molecularly ripped to pieces by distortions you can't see, you'll freeze to death in the blizzards. Even Ice Dragons can't survive there for too long."

Altai shuddered. A place where even ice dragons suffered hypothermia and fell asleep as quickly as everybody else sounded like a nightmare. With Bianca finished, she resumed, "It's better up here in December. The skies are mostly clear and the twin moons are bright. Beautiful.

"Selema loved stargazing. She is—she was a gentle soul. But she also had a gregarious personality. I've never met another dragon like her. There was nobody in December who didn't know her. She loved exploring the other villages. She made friends everywhere. In the tiny hamlets, too."

Altai rode her memories back to the old days. Each word she uttered, a moment she'd spent with that adorable dragon. All the times Altai flew with her and her mother, Aunt Aurona, or Kalen to visit the other villages; all the times Selema wrapped her tail around her foreleg and tugged, pulled, beckoned her to come along; and all the adventures they experienced together. The memories zipped through Altai's head in a span of seconds. Her eyes were as water. She couldn't stop a few tears from dripping.

"S-Selema…" Altai sniveled, her voice quavering. "Everybody loved Selema. She is"—the dragoness coughed—"she was the soul of December. She would've been a wonderful chieftess if she'd grown up. She might've become more, I believe." Altai chuckled. "It wouldn't have surprised me at all if she ended up becoming Ice Guardian, and a popular one too." She smirked. "Even more than Ignitus."

"Hmm…" Bianca looked deep in consternation. Altai left the sorceress to her musings and returned to the good old days. She was in the middle of recalling the first time they met an older drake who'd been attracted to Selema when the witch finally spoke, "Even more than the late Fire Guardian, huh? Is that because I'd go around befriending everybody?"

Altai was jolted out of her thoughts. Then, tail swishing lightly, she warbled, "Yeah! Exactly! That's exactly what she'd do!"

"Why was she like that, you think?" Bianca pondered. "Wouldn't people have taken advantage of her?"

The question brought Altai back to the few arguments she ever had with that dragon. "I don't know, Miss Bianca. Before she vanished, I've argued with her about that, but she just, she couldn't stop herself. It's just the way she is. Guess she was hatched that way? Sometimes I think that, that something kept drawing her out. As though, she was looking for something. For someone."

"I see." The rabbit hummed again. "Interesting theory." She turned to Altai. "You know… you never described how Selema looked like."

"Oh, anyone could recognize her from far away. Selema stood out in December like a dragon in a village of cheetahs." A familiar image popped in her mind. It was the most memorable image she ever had of her beloved friend. "Horns were nowhere near as wavy or impressive as mine are, but her scales…" She sighed. "Her scales were the most beautiful shade of light red. A warm pink, if you can believe it. If it weren't for the strong blue on her wings and belly, you'd think she was a Fire dragon!"

"Was she?"

"Of course not! Mother and I think she got it from Aragon, her father, who died during the War. Honestly, she never got to manifest her inner ice. She'd been struggling with channeling for at least a year, but she didn't get to live long enough to overcome it."

Spyro's voice cut into their conversation. "Hey Altai! Did I hear that right? You knew a dragon with pink scales?"

Altai and Bianca glanced to the side, seeing Spyro walking towards them from the front.

"Clear skies, Lord Spyro," the dragoness pondered. What was he doing up front? He'd normally stay and guard the rear.

Altai realized she had unintentionally vocalized her thoughts when Spyro answered, "Oh, some of the atlawas had to stop walking and rest in the wagons back there. The foreigners"—he coughed—"the Skylanders also decided to retire for a few minutes."

"At the very back?" Altai asked.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "Blasted dragons just won't leave me alone about joining Submaster Kaos's Doomraider Unit. I'm better off being a Skylander, they keep saying. Honestly, it's a little annoying."

"Still haven't mastered the basics of dragon culture, Spyro," Bianca pushed before the Savior could continue. "You were supposed to reply with 'steady winds' before anything else."

"Bianca, let me fly low here! It's only been four years since I started living as a dragon. It's hard shaking off the twelve I spent living like a dragonfly."

"A large, oversized dragonfly, as Sparx likes to say," Bianca tittered.

"Hey!" Then he rounded on Altai faster than she could react to this sky-shattering revelation. "And Altai, don't you dare tell anyone. People in Warfang would laugh me to death if they learned about this."

Spyro's expression was so mortified Altai couldn't resist giggling. "Don't worry, Lord Spyro. I won't tell anyone. Nobody would believe me anyway."

"Hmph!" He pouted, letting out an irritated snort.

Altai remembered his question earlier. "Your Grace," she asked, "did you know somebody with pink scales too?"

The Savior replied, "I do, yeah. Back in Warfang, there's a dragoness who runs a taphouse in one of the common districts. Her name's Ember." He smacked his chops. "People know her for her decent ale, but most aren't aware she's even better at the grill. She's got the best loxodon steak in Warfang."

His smile widened and he drew his wings closer to his body. Spyro turned his head away, as though embarrassed. "Heh, now that I think about her, I guess she has some feelings for me…"

"What do you mean?" asked Altai, somewhat interested.

"Oh, Ember usually talks to me a certain way. It's a bit... uh, coy? Sultry? She likes saying things with double meanings."

"Maybe she's like that with everyone."

"Oh, she is! There are several people after her rump; some aren't even dragons! But whenever I'm at her taphouse, she gives me plenty of attention. To tell you the truth, I might even have indulged her if she was ten years younger, and if I wasn't already committed to Cyn."

Spyro's eyes glazed over at the mention of Cynder. His steady bearing seemed to droop for a moment, and a resigned grimace scrunched his muzzle. "Used to bring her there, actually. Ember was one of the first to accept her for who she was. We even celebrated our first year together in her taphouse." He let out a sad chuckle. It sounded like a whimper to Altai. "Cyn was an awkward hen back then. Socially graceless, just like me." She considered comforting him, but before she could act and say something the Savior had raised his head at Bianca with steeled eyes.

"Worsethan you," the witch corrected. "Youhad some semblance of a normal childhood at least. She never did."

Spyro went quiet for a minute. "...Altai, what would your friend think about Cynder?"

Altai knew the answer the second he verbalized his question. "Selema would've accepted her, against my advice. Against anyone's honestly; then again, the entire time I've known her, she had never misjudged anyone by mistake." She didn't want to admit that, last week, when she and her five companions were told they were meeting with Cynder instead of Spyro, they were quaking in that room staring at tornadoes. Anyone would have in their place, other than Selema. Nobody in December believed Warfang's official news about the Terror of the Skies and her apparent change of heart.

The cheer and gratefulness they had shown was merely a display of politics. Even Altai, who bore a bloodstained bandage at the time, didn't fully trust Cynder's assurance, having heard many rumors flying about the airstreams. She never believed in Warfang's official story, not until a messenger from the Temple flew in with news of a vintaine being dispatched together with supplies as well as a chunk of red spirit gems for her own use.

"They would've been good friends, Your Grace," Altai continued. "Selema had a tendency to stay around troubled people." She smiled. "I don't call her the 'soul of December' without reason."

"Ancestors! It sounds like the world really lost a good dragon and we're missing out."

"...yeah…"

"...Do you know what happened to her?" Spyro asked her. "How did she vanish? And when?"

Bianca warned, "Spyro, maybe it isn't the best time to ask her that. For all you know, it—

"It's fine, Miss Bianca." Altai tapped her wing on the sorceress's robes. "It's been many years. We've had—I've had enough time to grieve." She looked over at Spyro after the road made another switchback. Had she been paying attention she might've noticed it started snowing. "Lord Spyro, the last time I saw Selema alive was five years ago. She wanted to visit December's northernmost fortress."

"Ah, Cliff Town," Bianca remarked.

Altai looked at the rabbit. "You know it?"

"Why wouldn't I? I pass the butte it's on every time I travel south. On one side, you have an amazing view of December. On the other, an immense cliff dropping off into Devil's Reach. If it weren't for the blanket of clouds below it, you'd be able to see Aorathan Desert from there. Maybe even my home."

Altai visibly shuddered at the mention of the name. "I've been to that spot before, Miss Bianca. Uncle Gileao says the winds are strongest there. Stronger than even the gusts at Mystic Pinnacle. The airstreams here are full of tales of dragons being blown off the edge and unable to fly back up. Never to return."

Spyro tilted his head in confusion. "Never to return? But you're all Earth or Ice dragons here. If you can't fly, why not just build a path into the cliff?" He gestured to the road they're on, and Altai could see that patches of snow and snow-covered shrubs dotted the slopes. "Like the one we're walking on right now. I bet Earth dragons made these centuries ago."

Bianca responded, "Spyro, getting back up isn't the problem. Surviving Devil's Reach is."

"What do you mean?"

"Devil's Reach is a place hostile to all life from the southern lands. Anything that lives there can kill you. Plenty of beasts and plants in that place carry the stain of raw magic. The same kind found in dragons, in fact." Sorceress Bianca then poked Spyro's snout with the tip of her finger. "There's a special carnivorous plant there that's sure to make your scales itch. Have you heard of the Devil's Snare?"

Both Altai and Spyro didn't.

Their answer evident in their silence, Bianca enlightened them. "The Devil's Snare is a plant that exclusively preys on dragons." She pointed at a blue spirit gem rising from the cliffside beside them, as well as a green one further ahead on the other side. "See the Spirit Gems? They use your reliance on them against you.

"It's common knowledge that the effects of Spirit Gems on dragonkind are extremely potent, at least before Diminishing Absorption sets in. Red heals wounds and injuries; also cures non-magical illnesses. Green restores mana reserves on top of acting as a stimulant. Blue strengthens channeling and amplifies mana output. Black—

"By the Lifebringer, Bianca," Spyro interrupted, "We're dragons."

She laughed. "I'm just saying, Spyro! When you get me talking—

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You can't help yourself. But Altai and I know this already." Spyro gestured to the knights Altai didn't realize had been hovering close to them, listening to them speak. "Same for the rest of your audience. Just fly straight, please."

Altai recognized Nuodai behind a gnorc knight and nodded at him in a wordless greeting. He nodded back.

"The Devil's Snare takes nourishment from the soil and the magic flowing through our world. Spirit gems sprout on some of the hundreds of vines growing from its bulbous body. Corrupted spirit gems, in fact. If you consume the energy inside them, it would be no different from absorbing piles of black gems. You instantly lose all your mana—lose every chance of defending yourself—and you become so fatigued you just flop over, paralyzed.

"Its vines will start moving once you're down and you haven't moved for a minute or two. It'll wrap you up and pull you into its main bulb. Once you're trapped inside, it'll burrow deep into the earth and proceed to devour you. You will stay alive inside the Devil's Snare, intubated, while it bleeds your magic core dry. It will absorb your soul next, and once it's consumed it will melt your entire body in gastric acids. Depending on the dragon, the process will take a year at minimum. When it's done, you won't be joining the Ancestors in the afterlife. You will simply cease to exist."

Altai let out a gasp. The description was horrific. It sounded like a fate worse than death. It was total, absolute damnation. The other dragons listening to them had similar thoughts, and one groaned in terror, retreating further until they could no longer hear the sorceress speak.

"That, all sounds hard to believe. How are you so sure about that?" Spyro asked with a grimace.

"My Mistress and I are Magi," Bianca coldly replied. "Trust me, Spyro. We're sure."

Considering the way Bianca described Magi to Altai earlier, the dragoness thought it was best if she didn't ask how they learned this information. Then a thought came to her.

An idea she didn't want to verbalize, now or ever.

Altai shivered from fright. Her eyes became teary. Her heart, pounding. She whimpered.

"Altai," Spyro studied her. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Altai ignored the Savior and fixed her eyes on Bianca's blue spheres. "Miss Bianca, do you think it's"—she gulped—"do you think it's possible that Selema might have fallen into Devil's Reach?"

The sorceress tapped her chin, humming. "It's plausible," she said after a minute. "Dragons don't fly around Cliff Town. I've never seen one take off from the top of the butte. Selema might not have known any better and took flight right in time for the winds to take her. Is there anything else, Little Wing? What about her guards? Someone like her should have had a few escorts traveling with her."

"She did, and none of them made it back either."

"Then chances are all of them descended into Devil's Reach and met their end there. The Devil's Snare isn't the only predator in that place." She started listing a few names in her passive matter-of-fact tone. "Stick leeches, mindcutter amanitas, acid huntsman spiders, tree creepers… all of those can quickly kill adult dragons. I haven't even started on the magical beasts prowling the forest."

Altai didn't recognize a single name from that list. Bianca's intonation, even if sanitized, couldn't prevent her imagination from beating the wind. It flew in all directions. Every name portended a horrible end, yet she couldn't get the description of the Devil's Snare out of her head.

The thought of Selema, the innocent spark of December, their pride and joy, her beloved childhood friend... falling victim to a plant's trap and subsequently finding herself trapped in a confined space wrought in eternal darkness, alone and unable to escape…

The picture in her mind brought Altai to tears. What if she hadn't been able to glide down into that forest? What if she'd gotten hurt falling off that stupid cliff, and she mistook a corrupted red gem for her chance to heal? Azeroth the Infinite, life could be so cruel. A sob escaped her throat. Tears finally trickled down her eyes.

"Altai?" Spyro asked, cautiously.

"Leave me alone," Altai hissed before pausing in silence. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I don't want to talk right now." Her throat released a pained whine. The dragoness shrugged off Spyro's responses and trotted on ahead to one of the wagons, alongside which she'd walk, her weakness hidden from all. More sobs yearned to break free. She suppressed them all with sheer willpower, but she couldn't stop the tears and the sniveling from getting past her defenses. Thank Azeroth nobody could see her here.

Spyro and Bianca still conversed after she distanced herself from them. Spyro sounded worried, and Bianca, irritated. The dragoness was certain they were discussing her. She peeked at them five minutes later and saw the Savior returning to the rear.

Altai suffered alone in her grief. Should she inform Mother or Aunt Aurona about this new theory? Or should she keep Bianca's prognosis to herself—let them continue to think that her dear friend had died a sudden but peaceful death?

Hours passed and the winds picked up quickly once the caravan ascended above the cloud cover. Altai would glance over to the right where the mountain fell down in a near-vertical drop. Her right wing almost flared open from the powerful force gusting upwards, raging in her earholes. She shivered apprehensively, unsure if she could maintain control if she took flight.

The two Skylanders in Claytor's vintaine couldn't resist the call of freedom. The Wind Dragons leapt over the threshold and spread their wings, instantly soaring above them. A sweeping, majestic grace blessed their flight. Altai saw at least two other dragons traversing the cliff edge, throwing sideward glances at the empty space. No other reptile decided to brave the air, not with the wind and the snowstorm quickly setting over the mountains.

As the sun fell and the twin moons appeared on the horizon, the mountain path was aglow in a dim yet noticeable white as the crystal-lined posts went to work. Altai managed to get her head away from the mental image of Selema dying a dark, cramped, and lonely death, and of her guards—her fellow villagers falling victim to the bloodthirsty beasts of Devil's Reach.

Her respite lasted only for so long. A chill coursed from tail to snout, traveling across her spine when she felt Bianca's presence coming up behind her.

"Altai!" the rabbit hollered; her voice was not too distinct from the loud winds buffeting their group. "Altai!"

Altai continued walking as if she didn't hear the sorceress. The pretense failed to deter Bianca from reaching out and clutching Altai's withers with a tight grip on her scales. She jolted from the touch. "W-what?" She almost yelled at her. "Miss Bianca, what, what is it?"

Sorceress Bianca stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. She gazed deep into her eyes. "Y-yes?" Altai asked once again.

The sorceress blinked as though she'd been entranced. "I've been giving some thought to, Selema's case," she finally uttered. "This might"—she immediately corrected herself—"this will sound impossible to you but, there is a chance she's still alive. A miniscule chance."

There were 19 months in a year, and with five years having passed since her friend's disappearance, Altai didn't latch onto Bianca's opinion as easily, as desperately as she thought she would. "What do you mean?" It shocked her that her words came out as cold, aloof, but then again, so much time had come and gone…

"The Devil's Snare requires a minimum of one year to fully process its meals. The actual time varies between dragons and it's directly proportional to their soul strength and mana reserve capacity. I've done the mathematics before." She gestured to the front of the caravan. "It'd take three years to digest someone like Vinetar Claytor, for example." Then the back. "Spyro? Probably even longer."

"And? How does that help with Selema?" Altai's eyes narrowed. "We're both the same age, and I'm 16 years old now. Selema was just 11 when she was taken from us. The whelp didn't even have a chance to manifest her inner ice! Besides, she would've starved to death!"

"The Devil's Snare actually keeps its food alive throughout the entire digestive process. It only kills them at the very end. If your friend had a powerful soul and a strong talent for her element channeling, she could still be alive, even now, as we speak."

For sure the possibility her beloved friend still lived in the mortal realm was wonderful news, however remote. Yet Altai was not Aunt Aurona. By Azeroth the Infinite, it's been five years. Five long years. Only Egeria knew how well Selema fit Bianca's criteria. She knew it was stupid to believe in the impossible.

Yet Altai couldn't resist asking, "Even if that was true, she'd be impossible to find. Devil's Reach must be a massive place, and how many of these Devil's Snares are there? You also said they burrow deep underground when they have a helpless victim—

"You don't know Devil's Reach as I do," spoke Bianca. "I visit the forest occasionally to harvest alchemy ingredients and raw materials for spellcraft. Diagnostic spells and alchemic decoctions can be used to drastically enhance the senses for a limited time. It's not much, but I do have a chance at finding Selema."

Altai looked like she swallowed a bitter gourd. "But you won't do that for free."

"I can make a rare exception in this case." Bianca surprised Altai with a smile. "If Selema actually survived this long, then she is worth studying for a few years. It's not free per se, but knowing she lives would be better than never finding her at all. What do you think?"

"That, t-that sounds reasonable, Miss Bianca. But why are you asking me? You ought to tell this to Mother, Aunt Aurona, or Uncle Gileao when we get to Eyria."

"You're her best friend. Furthermore, you know them more than I do. In this entire caravan, you're the only one around who can tell me if my price is fair."

Altai hummed. "If," she started, her voice betraying her emotions, "If you can really find her—if she's really still alive then, t-then"—she choked, unable to contain the hope surging inside her soul.—"then as long as we can see her—talk to her… I'm sure Aunt Aurona won't mind your terms."

"That's good to hear. Working for free isn't—oof!"

Altai had lunged at Bianca. She rose on her hindlegs and wrapped her forearms around the sorceress in a tight hug, instantly dispelling all the inhibitions, the apprehension she'd been harboring since their first meeting in Uzali. "Miss Bianca, thank you so much! Thank you! Even, even if a corpse was the only thing waiting for you down there, or if you, i-if you never find Selema in the end, the-the sheer"—she coughed—"the mere fact you offered to do this for us is something we'd always be grateful for."

The dragoness felt Bianca's paws stroke her head before gently pushing her head—her body away. "I know how important it is to have closure. Knowing things for certain is much more preferable to enshrouding yourselves in hypotheticals—

An unusually loud gust of wind suddenly swept through the caravan and ripped the emotional moment apart. It drowned out Bianca's voice. Snow assailed the entire group, the flurries smashing into their armor, into their scales with such force that Altai had to clench her paws to avoid being swept out into the gaping, black chasm beside her. The snowstorm had turned into a blizzard, and it was worsening.

She had only a second to realize Bianca was still standing fine as though it was a clear summer night when a scream penetrated the overwhelming howls. "AZEROTH'S HORNS! HELP! HEEEELP!"

Altai whipped her head to the front. She gaped in horror when she saw the silhouette of a wagon lurching dangerously to the cliff edge. The gnorc knight pulling it must have lost control after it went over a patch of invisible ice. She watched his bulging arms engage in a tug-of-war with the errant vehicle, losing when he himself began to slip. "Aggghh!" the gnorc screamed.

A dragon launched themselves out of the wagon, clad in the armor of Talonpoint Keep. An Ice Dragon. The same one who yelled, Altai realized, when he barked, "Pull, Oxspring! One-third of Eyria's food supplies are in there!"

"I… I AM!"

When he slid down a little, the Talonpoint Knight swept his muzzle towards the cliff. He twirled and whipped his tail in an arc. It glowed a bright blue, heralding the creation of a narrow ice platform that jutted out over the dark abyss.

It arrested the wagon's fall, though only for a moment. Oxspring continued to slip as his burden slid across the makeshift ledge and, worse, caused it to crack and tremble.

With a strained grunt, the gnorc took his war axe in hand and hammered the ground, smashing it through the thin layer of snow and into the rock beneath without regard for the integrity of its blade. The sound was palpable in Altai's ears, as was the sound of the emergency platform giving way. With a deafening crack, it began a long fall into the darkness, where the light of the twin moons couldn't penetrate the raging wall of snow.

"Rrrrrggrrrheeelp!"

Scales so white they were nearly invisible from a distance brushed past Altai and Bianca. One of the Skylanders, the dragoness realized. "I got it!" he yelled, leaping out in the direction of the red moon and fanning out his massive wings.

Altai had never seen a Skylands dragon this close. Her celeste eyes gawked at his incredibly wide wingspan. A grayish-white color tinged his ailerons whilst flapping his wings. Somehow, maybe by his Element, the white dragon caught the violent gusts and rose into the sky. She tried her best to follow the Skylander, but all she saw was white no matter where her eyes darted.

Moments passed before Altai spotted a faint outline that went against the current and dropped tens of wingspans in freefall. The Skylander! "Are you seeing this, Miss Bianca?" she asked. "What's he doing?"

The witch gave commentary in her emotionless voice. "Giving the wagon some air before it's too late."

"Can you help—

"It isn't needed."

As the sorceress said, the Skylander caught the rising winds once more and, with skillful twisting in the air, sent an even stronger wave at the wagon.

"Can't, hold…" Oxspring was muttering. Altai thought he was merely seconds away from relinquishing his grip when the Wind Dragon's shot struck the wagon from below. It halted the fall for an instant. The gnorc knight felt this and, roaring, reacted by pulling even harder.

The wheels made contact with the broken ice ledge once more. Just when it was about to slip over again, another burst of wind halted its momentum and gave Oxspring more power. The Ice Dragon who'd been in the cart rushed forward and bit down on the sturdy wood, lifting his neck and assisting the gnorc with pure strength. Once more, the Skylander fired off another wave of concentrated air, striking the wagon's rear with an explosion of snow and wind.

"Ventura's tail, they need an Earth dragon!" grumbled the atlawa knight pulling the wagon beside Altai and Bianca. Urgency filled his voice. "Somebody go get one of—

"I'm here!" Altai overheard the Savior as he charged in to save them. "I'll get it under control." The green hue of the Earth element enveloped his forepaws. It shone brightly. Bright enough to overcome even the blinding white of this blizzard. "Here I—

"The Vinetar's taking care of it, Lord Spyro," someone shouted. "Fasten your wings!"

Altai heard Bianca let out a sigh of relief when they heard Spyro stuttering and the glow of his channeling faded to a stop. A thin rod of stone leaped out of the cliffside and prevented gravity from claiming its victim. There was another pull, another shot of wind, before the errant wagon was back on the path.

The two Talonpoint Knights slumped down, heaving. Claytor arrived with another Earth dragon. "Good work. Especially you, Oxspring!" The Vinetar booped the gnorc's shoulder with his snout, putting his wing around the back and giving the massive knight a quick embrace. "Our friends in Eyria are desperate for supplies. We can't afford to lose anything."

"Many thanks," the gnorc rumbled in thanks. It was strange to hear a voice that coarse expressing a tone of gratitude.

Claytor turned to the Earth dragon with him. "Terrador, you know what to do."

"Yes, Vinetar!"

Then he looked over at the Purple Dragon, who'd been reduced to gaping oddly at the two knights in front of him. "Your Grace," he said with a quick bow of his snout, "while I am terribly grateful for your enthusiasm, please focus on our enemy and leave small matters like this to us."

"But Claytor—

The Vinetar closed the short distance between him and the Savior and placed a paw on his withers. "It's fine, Lord Spyro. Don't worry about it."

"O-okay, if, if you insist," he replied. Spyro glanced over at the other Talonpoint Knight and, as with Altai, watched him raise a glowing forepaw to the air. The rock that extended outward from the cliff slowly returned into the mountain underneath them, moving in time with Terrador's somatic movements.

"Uhm… Terrador?" Spyro said the dragon's name in an inquisitive tone.

"Named after the Earth Guardian himself," Claytor replied in his stead. "Master Terrador and the other Guardians accomplished many a war feat before they were all subdued by Lady Cynder in her corrupted state. Many hatchlings in the generation before yours were named after them." A cheeky grin graced his snout. "I wouldn't be surprised if I start meeting whelps named after you, Your Grace."

Spyro chuckled awkwardly, "Well, uhm, it's—it'll be weird—very weird—to meet another dragon with my name on him."

Spyro's conversation with Claytor eventually led to him being reintroduced to Oxspring and Terrador the knight in a more casual fashion. The Skylander touched down a second later, joining the four. Altai could see smiles break out on their muzzles as they celebrated their successful save and Claytor thanked the diplomat for his quick thinking and initiative.

While this was happening, the dragoness turned to Bianca with a question on the edge of her lips. "Why didn't he let Lord Spyro help?" she asked. "If they just got another Earth dragon earlier to make an even bigger ledge—

"Because it's dangerous," explained the witch. "Manipulating the earth like normal carries particularly high risk here. What if it causes an avalanche? What if the space beneath crumples inward, like with a sinkhole?" Her sleeve whipped about as she gestured at the cliff edge. "Recklessly shifting the rock beneath us might cause enough instability to collapse the path and send the entire caravan down the mountain. The dragons will be fine. The bipeds, too, if they're rescued in time. But what about the relief goods you're all bringing?"

Altai had never considered that. "You, make a good point, Miss Bianca."

"A point Claytor will surely educate Spyro on later." The rabbit stepped forward and nodded at her. "Now come, at this rate the rear wagon will catch up."

Thank the Ancestors nothing as bad as a wagon nearly falling off the mountain occurred over the next three days. Altai's experience of the climb can be summed up to rocks, deafening winds, and sheets of solid ice and snow. Plant life became ever more scarce once they passed a certain height, and the cliffside path became a slippery eel winding up and down in gradual ascent. None of the dragons took to the air save for the two Skylanders. Not a single one yearned to spring forth from the edge of the mountain, especially after the last one who tried nearly had his muzzle smashed into the crag above them on a higher part of the path. He'd been lucky to escape mostly unscathed, with the damage consisting of a few snapped-off claws, chipped scales, and a fractured ego.

One of the most terrifying sections of their trip, Altai would later conclude, must definitely have been the part where the switchbacks stopped for once and the crystal posts started running across the tops of every single crag and peak of mountains far shorter than the impassable spire directly above theirs. The dragoness required coaxing from even Spyro when she froze mid-step, eyes ogling the steep drop-offs on either side. It didn't matter to her that the path could fit six adult dragons squeezed together side by side. The snow was deep, coming up to the shins of her paws. The winds were more ferocious out in the open, unpredictable and unrelenting, blowing in from practically any direction. A careless traveler could easily be blown off the edge.

Claytor advised the vintaine and their guests to squat down—lower their center of gravity and proceed at an even slower pace. Thankfully, the skies had cleared enough for Altai to see the tall, imposing mountain in the distance. It was larger—taller than the one they had just left behind, yet she knew that there were those whose peaks stood even higher than this one. The one that held Mystic Pinnacle was one such place.

Despite her trepidations, not a single accident took place during the eight hours that elapsed whilst the caravan straddled this frighteningly exposed walkway. The mere fact none of the crystal posts had snapped off by wind, erosion, or worse testified to the impeccable craftsmanship and design of Molekind. When they finally returned to the cover of a mountain, under Claytor's command the caravan stopped for the night.

As they have done the previous nights, Earth dragons carved out a small bowl-shaped enclave, permitting some cover against the frigid winds of the night. Before another snowstorm picked up and strengthened into a raging evening blizzard, the vintaine's ice dragons deftly raised the snow; compacted them into solid blocks. Into rigid walls that would surely shield them from the weather.

Yet, by some random fluke, one of the reptiles suddenly stumbled on a patch of transparent ice and crashed, rolled into a sheet of compacted stone and snow. Altai heard a disturbing crack in the air, with the dragon yowling in agony. One of the atlawas quickly whisked to his aid. A broken ankle, the knight determined.

"How much farther, Vinetar?" a rhynoc questioned Claytor that night while they were huddled around three open firepits, courtesy of Spyro himself. Having the ability to use all the elements must surely be so convenient. Altai observed smoke floating out of the gaping cracks between the magicked ceiling, munching on cooked loxodon meat—thawed and roasted—while listening to the horned knight grumble. "Today, one get broken ankle. Three others, legs already sprained. Everyone, tired, cold. Food from Uzali, running out. No game to be found. We can't keep going like this."

Another, a dragon, joined in, "We should've requested a Fire Dragon, or two."

Claytor snapped, "A Fire Dragon would have been a boon to our quality of life, BUT they are extremely sensitive to the cold. They'd do all to preserve their fire for themselves, possibly defy my orders. It'd be no different from having Ice Dragons in the desert."

He cast his eyes on the rhynoc. Altai watched them linger before the Earth dragon panned his gaze on his vintaine and the rest of the caravan. "Alona's horns, I know you're all tired, and not everybody here can walk. but we have at least three more days of hiking and four days of food, not counting what we're bringing for Eyria. We'll be able to hunt game once we enter the inhabited zone. Please, be patient. Stay aloft. We'll be there soon."

Few had a rejoinder for his reassurance. Each person in the vintaine simply looked at each other and withheld any skepticism they might have felt. Bianca, though, couldn't resist standing up after a few minutes. She knelt between Spyro and Claytor, her legs folded.

"If it's any consolation," she said, "you're all lucky this isn't the Long Winter. It's pitch black most of the day; December gets one hour of daylight at worst." Bianca paused as she and the rest of the caravan fell silent when the roaring blizzard outside intensified and overwhelmed their voices for at least a minute.

She resumed talking once the winds waned slightly. "That is normal during the Long Winter. You would be hiking in that throughout the entire trip, and they're even stronger on exposed peaks or ledges. The crystal lights lining the path are hard to see in the dark because of all the snow, and if you fall off the mountain, you're practically dead." Bianca's eyes glossed over the Skylanders. "I doubt even a Wind Dragon could fly in that weather for very long."

One of the two Wind Dragons glowered at the rabbit. "Like you would know anything about flying, sorceress." He straightened his back and arched his head up in a regal pose. "Our empire is called Skylands for a reason! You bottom-dwellers are just learning to crawl when we're already tossing every hatchling into open air with nothing but the Empty Sea beneath them the day they start flapping their wings."

The other snorted. "I concur. Wind Dragons are true experts of flight. There is no place in the Realms we cannot fly in."

Bianca smiled in response to them and raised her paws in a de-escalating gesture. "Sure, I'll take your word for it. I'm just a traveling witch trying to make sure you don't underestimate this place."

Claytor thanked Bianca for her inputs, speaking before the foreigners could. The caravan broke off amongst themselves and hushed conversations continued in separate parts of the makeshift shelter. After an hour passed (by Altai's best guess) the blizzard worsened to the extent the wind's mere breathing drowned out every voice. Altai shuddered. It was getting cold even for her. She checked this with Nuodai and the other messengers, and she received nothing but consonance with her thoughts.

The only good thing in this situation was the fact winds like this meant they were close to home. Much closer than they had ever been.

Altai and the other messengers decided to huddle together and sleep ten minutes before Claytor commanded the same of his vintaine. The dragoness sought Bianca to bid her good night yet for some reason she was nowhere inside their mountainside camp. Altai plodded to the entrance of their shelter. She, an Ice Dragon from December, bristled at the biting cold. No wonder Eyria prohibited trips to the mountains, or even flights up to their altitude.

What was distressing if not uncomfortable for a normal dragon was merely a bothersome chill for her. Altai easily pressed on—easily adapted—and meandered to the exit, where the snow flew in from outside. Where the snowstorm did not so much holler at her so much as it shrieked into her earholes.

She poked her muzzle past the frozen slit, her azure scales visible against the white blindness. Altai squinted, to avoid getting snow in her eyes, and panned her gaze sideways. The crystal posts that followed the contour of the mountain and guided them to December each sported a brilliant white shine. The light was visible up close, but they were lost behind a veil of white—then black—after a certain distance. Her tail fell limp when she realized she couldn't see the twin moons right now.

Altai couldn't find Bianca. Worry gnawed at her from inside. After spending a few days traveling with each other, she had gotten quite close with the sorceress. She couldn't explain why, but Bianca gave off the air of an old friend. That sort of thing was rare in this world, and she'd hate to lose someone like that not long after they met.

She heard paws padding towards her from behind. Altai turned around and saw one of the knights coming to accost her. It was the Ice Dragon who helped Oxspring before. Ancestors… she forgot his name. "How are you, Little Wing?" he asked. "Everything all right? Why're you here?"

"I wanted to say goodnight to Miss Bianca," Altai explained, looking up at the adult. She sat on her haunches, hindleg scratching the base of her horns. "I couldn't find her inside camp so I thought she might have stepped outside for a little break." Her figure drooped. "But she's gone. I don't see her anywhere nearby. I'm starting to get worried." The blizzard became louder for a few seconds. "A biped won't last long in that."

"Sorceress Bianca? She's gone?" the dragon murmured in recognition.

"Yes…"

Concern flashed upon his features. He frowned. His tail swept the floor once. Twice. Finally, he replied, "I'm, sure she'll be fine. She clearly knows this region better than we do and it's obvious to me she's been on this path at least once."

"But, sir, she's alone."

"So what? She was probably alone before, too." The dragon smiled at her. He raised his forepaw and scratched her cheek.

"Ehnn…" Altai felt uncomfortable. She couldn't just dismiss her like that!

The knight stepped closer. He cut her off from the exit and, draping his larger wing around her thin form, guided her away from the slit. Gently, he pushed her towards the wagons. "That rabbit's going to be just fine, believe me. She's got magic, doesn't she? She's been calling herself more special than the few mages we have in Talonpoint Keep so maybe there's something to that."

"I…"

"Just go back to your wagon. I'll be taking first watch tonight, and I'll be rotating posts with the others. If any of us sees her, you'll find out in the morning."

"W-well… okay."

"Alona bless you, Little Wing. Good night."

"Same to you, sir," the dragoness bid. She plodded back to her wagon in disappointment.

Once she got to her cart, she climbed aboard and took a spot between Nuodai and the messengers from the villages of Pystis and Mishkan. She instinctively kneaded the mat for a few moments before laying down, curling her tail around her body, and resting her muzzle on top as though it was a fat cushion.

Altai whimpered. She hoped Bianca would be fine out there. The dragoness shut her eyes and tried to sleep. She didn't know exactly when she had fallen asleep or how long she'd been dozing off when voices outside her wagon roused her.

"...Grace, you needn't do this. It's, i-it's unnecessary. A dragon of your stature—

"C'mon, I'm not a gilded wing. All this special treatment is tiring. I already get too much of it in Warfang. Just let me take watch for an hour or two."

"But, Lord Spyro, I, w-we"—the knight in charge of the night watch yawned.

Altai popped her head out of the wagon and saw Spyro waving a wing in dismissal. "See? Now go. Rest. Rest as much as you can. I'll handle this shift."

"If…" A pause. "If you insist, my Savior."

Altai's maw spread wide open as she yawned and licked her chops. She gave the knight—a snow leopard—a fleeting glance before hopping out of the wagon and padding over to the Hero of the Dragon Realms.

Spyro quickly shot a look in Altai's direction when he heard the soil and pebbles crunching beneath her paws. His gaze was gentle. "Hello, Altai."

"Lord Spyro. Clear skies."

"Steady winds." He groused, "I told you, don't call me that."

Altai smiled awkwardly. "And Itold you that it won't feel respectful enough if I don't. It's what everybody calls you and Lady Cynder. After what you two have accomplished it's only right that I treat your names with the respect they deserve."

The hero grunted, "All right, fine. It's your flight. Have it your way." His attention returned to the blizzard outside, purple eyes fixed on the slit. Altai wondered if he could hear, could sense anything out there? What exactly did a Purple Dragon have that all the others didn't? What made them special, beyond their ability to wield the elements?

"How are you?" Spyro asked. He must have noticed the way Altai was sitting on her haunches a few paces off, her gaze fixed on the weather outside. "I haven't spoken to you since that fall scare two days ago. Couldn't sleep?"

"No, but you and that knight woke me up."

"Oh, sorry about that." He scratched at his frills. "He was a bit stubborn. Didn't want to let me take watch."

"I heard," Altai replied. She eyed his posture. He was stiff. No, focused. This was someone who never let their guard down. "You really think the Apes might attack at this time?" The snowstorm had not abated at all. "It's terrible out there."

"It pays to be vigilant. They can be unpredictable, and here in December they have a new leader," Spyro said.

"That makes sense."

Silence settled between them for several minutes. Both dragons watched the slit and observed the turbulent flurries of snow. Then, the two adolescents gazed at one another. Spyro opened his maw to speak, but Altai had beaten him to it. "Hey, Lord Spyro?"

He stayed quiet and let her speak.

"Have you seen Miss Bianca?"

"Bianca? No. Why?"

"I was looking for her a while ago. She wasn't in camp, so I thought she's somewhere outside. I didn't see her near the entrance either."

"Maybe you missed her?" Spyro offered. "She's probably in one of the other wagons and her clothes would make her hard to see."

"I would've smelled her, Your Grace."

"...Good point. I would have too."

"Did the other knights mention anything? The first one on duty said the others would know if they saw her coming in."

"No. I watched Claytor tell his knights that anyone coming for the next shift asks for news. It's a good policy and I've done the same earlier." Then he sighed. "Sorry, Altai, but Bianca might… she might still be out there."

"Oh. I hope she's okay."

"Me too. Normally I wouldn't be that worried. She's probably walked this path by herself many times. But it's more dangerous now, with the Apes and this new 'king' of theirs prowling about."

"Can't she, she… uh, I don't know, 'magic' them all dead?"

"Not necessarily. Magicians are a bit fragile, and they rely on focus. Their biggest weakness is in close quarters. Get close—or ambush them—and you neutralize their advantage."

Altai's mind worked fast. "Then do you think, do you think the Apes ambushed her?"

"Maybe. I"—Spyro suddenly whipped his head towards the slit. He hushed Altai and dropped his posture, clinging to the floor.—"Shhh!"

"W-wha—

"Quiet, Altai!" Spyro muttered. "I sense something."

The Savior stopped blinking. He ceased moving. On full alert, Spyro became rigid while he concentrated on their surroundings. He licked his chops and somehow exuded power without channeling his mana.

Altai glanced outside. The raging snowstorm outside wasn't as terrible as it'd been when they were all having supper around firepits, but it was still loud and merciless. What had been ambiance earlier was now a potential trap. A cover. She strained her earholes to filter out the noise.

Nothing.

The dragoness looked at Spyro when she heard him hiss in low growl. What was happening out there? There's nothing she couldn't—

There it was.

A faint, subtle thump-thump-thump somewhere in the blizzard.

Only two other knights were on duty, but they were on the other side of the camp, with their ears trained on the vents above or on the mountainside. Only Spyro and Altai were there at the entrance.

Altai shuddered. She turned to Spyro. "That's not natural, is it?"

"No. Someone's out there."

The thought of facing the Apes once again had Altai staring at tornadoes. She blanched. "How many?"

She watched Spyro's forepaw curl inwards. "I can't tell. But we're being watched."

"Should I wake the others?"

"Claytor's people will know what to do if they hear sounds of fighting. Brace yourself, Altai. Get behind me."

Altai walked sideways and placed herself behind Spyro, her eyes not leaving the slit—the only entrance into their shelter. Once behind him and the protection he provided, she twisted her neck to check the rest of the caravan. The shelter they were in was quiet, sleepy. Not a lick of activity in sight.

She dug in her heels and crouched down into a pouncing position. A pale blue colored her claws as she reached into her own mana reserves and pulled out the magical energy from within. She circulated it throughout her body as she prepared for battle.

The scars on her spine and flank ached horribly, reminding the dragoness of the last time she faced the Apes. But they weren't running. They were coming home. This time, she was on the winning side now.

Altai ogled the dimly lit darkness outside. The moments came and went in absolute silence, with only the constant yowls of the mountain air providing company. How many were they? What equipment did they have? Did they know Spyro was here? Where were they going to enter from?

They heard the thumps of footsteps outside. Muffled and inaudible to everyone inside save for the Purple Dragon and his adolescent charge.

They waited.

They continued to wait.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Altai didn't let doubt seep into her mind. Nights had passed like this before, and she wasn't making the same mistake again. She stayed vigilant, even as the lack of movement—the lack of attack gnawed at her insides.

All it took was one moment. One instant. Letting her guard down was a mistake. They—

A cough.

From neither her nor Spyro.

It was closer to her, to the right. A quick glance up—one of the fire vents!—before immediately leaping aside. "Your Grace!" Altai said, no longer keeping her voice down. "To the right! They snuck in through—

Spyro reacted quickly to the noise and whipped his head to the side. In one automatic movement he placed himself between Altai and the enemy. Altai watched a distortion in the air begin enveloping the hero. The famous Dragon Time at work. An element lost in ancient history.

Spyro spoke, "You picked the wrong time… huh? Bianca?"

W-what?

Spyro's aggressive posturing deflated instantly. Confusion addled Altai's mind when she looked at the hooded figure beside them. Snow fluttered down its clothes when it pulled its hood down, revealing the cream-furred rabbit and her warm, crystal-blue eyes.

It was truly Bianca.

Spyro let out a sigh of relief. "Whew… Bianca, you scared us!"

The rabbit had been slapping excess snow off of her black robes. She took one of her wide, floppy ears and ran her furry hands down its entire length several times. "Brrrr," she growled. "It's a bit colder than I expected."

A bit colder? Altai ogled her like a hatchling. That was something an Ice Dragon would say. Not a mammal!

Spyro pushed his snout onto Bianca's robes and gave it a few sniffing probes. "What were you doing out there? We thought we were being ambushed!"

The sorceress fished out some gold stones from her pockets. "Saw this on the mountainside a while ago. Planium ore. It's a rare find. I can grind this down into powder. They're useful in crafting magic tools and runestones." Altai studied the material. They had the hue of gold, but the translucency of amber. It was cloudy inside, and it tugged at her magical senses. There was something in there. Something that stored mana, or at least a kind of magical energy known only to spellcasters.

Bianca returned the planium to her pockets, interrupting Altai's analysis. She said nothing as the witch resumed warming her ears and grinned awkwardly at the Purple Dragon. At her friend. "Sorry for the scare, Spyro." At Altai, too. "And Altai, sorry if I worried you. I remembered seeing this after supper, and tonight was my only chance in getting a few handfuls."

The blizzard continued unabated. Thankfully, Altai could no longer hear the thumping. "I'm used to traveling alone, and the cold never bothered me anyway." She said, tittering.

"This isn't funny, Bianca," Spyro scolded her, his tone stern. Imperious. "These aren't normal times. I know the weather isn't a problem for you, but... what if you were ambushed out there?"

"I'd kill them all; you and Claytor would see all the bodies in the morning."

"You're a magician! Sorceress or not, you still have weaknesses."

Bianca raised her hand and placed it on Spyro's head. She rubbed the base of his horns for a few seconds. "Spyro… I'm happy you care but trust me. I can take care of myself."

He huffed and turned away. "Don't wander off like that next time. You aren't traveling alone in this trip."

Altai blurted, "Miss Bianca, did you see anything out there?

The witch faced her. "I did, actually."

"Were they Apes?" Her question compelled Spyro to glance over at them. "We heard thumping out there, before you came."

"Hmnnhh," she ground her teeth together, eyes shifting away in consternation. "Hard to tell, honestly, with everything outside bathed white. Something big was skulking around the camp. Bigger than the Ape Commanders of Gaul's time. Had a lot of hair on it too."

"That doesn't sound like an Ape," remarked Spyro.

"It doesn't, but who knows? Maybe it's a subspecies found only in Blackstone Mountains. You can look to the Moles for a biological precedent. Warfang Moles and Manweersmalls are two subspecies."

"Maybe."

Bianca yawned, giving her arms a good, long stretched. "All right, Purple Boy, I'm calling it a night. If you need me, you can find me in one of the wagons in the back."

"Okay, Bianca. I'll see you in the morning."

"How about you, Altai?" She asked her. "You sleeping too?"

The ice dragoness looked at Spyro for a second. Something about the way he gazed at the outside tugged at Altai. She didn't know what he was thinking, but he must have many thoughts disturbing his peace.

"Ahh, no," Altai declined. "I'd, I'd rather stay here with Lord Spyro."

"Okay then."

Altai bid the sorceress farewell, giving her waist a strong nudge with her snout. Hearing Bianca let out the rare giggle made her feel warm inside. It relieved her so much to know her new friend was safe in their care.

Once the rabbit left, Altai hung close to Spyro throughout his watch. She laid herself down on her belly, muzzle on top of her paws. She offered the Purple Dragon her presence and the opportunity to talk to her about the things that troubled him back at home. Somehow, she stayed awake the entire time.

Despite her efforts Spyro said nothing. She was sure he appreciated her presence, though the legendary hero stayed reticent. They went their separate ways when the next knight came over for his shift, embarrassed to see the Savior and one of their guests standing where his comrade should've been. It took a bit of explaining, but the knight responded better than his predecessor.

The days passed.

The path kept switching back and forth before crossing over to taller and taller mountains. It was a cycle that never seemed to end. The blizzard became a daily constant and as Claytor's soldiers predicted, they were running dangerously low on food.

Ever since the caravan woke up on the sixth morning, nobody spoke anymore aside from Spyro and Vinetar Claytor, who would simply shout out commands or warnings, or monitor both wagons and people for any trouble.

The Wind Dragons stopped flying in the daytime after Claytor started rationing everyone's food, though Altai preferred to think it was because of all the jealous scowls they received from every other dragon. The two of them were nice, but... in the end there was no escaping the scathing arrogance—the contempt for "bottom-dwellers"—that seemed to afflict every Skylander without exception.

Everybody had focused on arriving at their destination before they ran out of food, before they were forced to consume all the supplies reserved for Eyria and the other villages. Not a single person rested in the wagons save for those who have sprained their ankle or broken a leg, which currently amounted to four—one-fifth of the vintaine. They were hungry. Tired. Yet they went on, step by step. Each switchback a victory of its own right.

The snowstorms drowned out their screams of agony as each traveler called upon their endurance and plodded the entire way. Even the locals—Altai and the other messengers—were fatigued, their inexperience visible to all.

As for sleep, Vinetar Claytor made sure to double the night watch, having heard Spyro, Altai, and Bianca's report on the hulking figure that had been eyeing their caravan on the fifth night. It was surely an Ape scout, for none of the reclusive yeti native to December would help the invaders. Not when they've had friendly relations with the dragons and snow leopards for generations.

Fortunately, the enhanced security must have dissuaded their spy. They hadn't been heard since the sixth night.

On the ninth day, the caravan awoke to a clear, mountain sky with mighty gusts of wind. There was deep snow everywhere along the path. The Ice Dragons cleared it as much as they could, sending them down below. Altai and the others contributed to the snow clearing efforts as well.

They were nearing the top of the tallest mountain Altai had ever seen during the entire nine-day trip. Azeroth knew how many switchbacks there had been the entire day. Altai's legs were badly sore, yearning for rest. She glanced up at the snow-capped peak. They were so close to the summit! If the winds were favorable, it would've been an easy ten-minute flight upward.

Then, to her surprise, the path didn't cross over to another mountain. It went inward and followed the earthen contour around. The path went down a very slight downward angle as it crossed a flat, snow-covered area. A crag to Altai's left drew her gaze, and the sight had her yipping with joy.

She abandoned her spot next to Claytor and rushed to the other messengers near the rear of the caravan. "Look!" she hollered excitedly. "Look!" Altai kept turning to the crag nearby, wings gesturing constantly at it. "It's Dragon Rock! DRAGON ROCK!" She wailed, "Ancestors, we're almost home!"

True to its name, the smaller peak looked just like a pair of dragon horns spiraling across each other, reaching for the sky. Cliffs with deep overhangs made the rock formation look like it had wings. How they stayed above ground notwithstanding all the snow weighing it down was a geological marvel. Even so, it was this unique feature that not only gave the formation its name but also made it a visible landmark in the skies directly above the Village of Eyria.

As usual the winds here were treacherous and unforgiving. As much as Altai, Nuodai, and the other messengers sought flight and the freedom it brought, they all knew it was too dangerous to take off now, and for a variety of reasons other than the Ape threat.

The lands surrounding Dragon Rock consisted of shorter mountains. The path slowly led downward, though it didn't appear—or feel—so at times. Once, a wagon got stuck in the deep snow; its wheels caught a spot the snow clearers had overlooked.

This time around the dragons hesitated to brandish their elements, for fear of causing an avalanche or a sinkhole. One of the snow leopards had pointed out to a crystal post that was four-fifths of its height buried under the frozen ice and the danger to moving either snow or earth.

They were at an impasse. The gnorcs and rhynocs started discussing whether they should cluster together and lift it up. Spyro trotted over, volunteering to help. "I can solve this!" he was saying. "I can still use my Fire."

Before he could channel his elements, Bianca appeared and tapped his shoulder. "It's all right, Spyro. You need to save your mana for the real emergencies."

"You got a solution for this?" he asked.

"Of course I do. I am a sorceress. Sit back and watch."

With mere waving of her hands, the wagon levitated itself out of the snow and a yellow glow encased its wheels, to the awe and amazement of both knights and messengers.

"Whoa," Spyro uttered. "You did it."

"Mmmhm. Now all is well. I've put a spell that evenly distributes the wagon's weight across its overall surface area."

"A-amazing," an atlawa muttered. "So this is magic…"

Claytor approached the witch. "Sorceress Bianca, would you mind if I ask you to..."

"I don't," Bianca cut off the earth dragon. "Rest assured, Vinetar, I will apply the same spell to the others. We won't see another stuck wheel for the rest of the trip."

"That's great news!" he said. "Sorry for the trouble."

"It's fine. I won't mind as long as it gets us to Eyria faster."

Spyro grinned at her as he returned to his spot in the back. Altai watched a silent message pass between the two friends before she decided to approach Bianca herself. She walked towards her once she was casting her spell on the last few wagons. "Hey there."

"Hello, Altai. Clear skies. What brings you here?"

"Steady winds, Miss Bianca. Nothing really. It's just, after you fixed those wagons, I realized…"

"Realized what?"

"That your spells are so flexible! I've never seen you freezing to death with us out here, and you always looked comfortable while we were climbing. It's like you're another Ice Dragon, really!"

She laughed. "Thanks for the compliment, Little Wing."

"...Are you sure dragons really can't be magicians?" mewled Altai.

"Yes. I told you, I tried—

"Really?" Altai countered. "Have you, truly? Don't you Magi have some sort of process to figure this out? Maybe you should—

Bianca interjected, "Stop it!" She must've seen the annoyed look on her muzzle, otherwise the rabbit wouldn't have sighed and proceed to speak, "Altai, the tests I did aren't that simple. I had plenty of dragons volunteering for me during my first visit to Warfang. I explored various magical proficiencies and all the evidence I gathered points to dragonkind—as an entire species—possessing no innate talent for true spellcasting."

"But…!"

"Argh," Bianca groaned. "Look, if it makes you happy, one of my subordinates carried out a study several years ago. It suggests that grayscales might have the ability to become magicians."

"Grayscales? But those dragons can't even channel an element—

"That's true. Now if they can wield magic—

"That doesn't make sense!" Altai screeched.

"It just might," Bianca stated, giving her once again this strange, secretive grin. "You just lack information."

"No, I don't! Grayscales are just bad luck! They don't—they can't wield the elements like any proper dragon. If anything, they're just like the lesser species in every other regard."

She uttered her name in disapproval. "Altai… you cannot just shut out the possibility like that. Grayscales are hatched that way for a reason. What that reason is remains unknown, but it's too early to dismiss them as defects. More studies need to be done."

The dragoness didn't expect to receive a scolding. "I, I'm sorry…?"

"Just leave me to my work please," Bianca said and waved her paw at her. A gesture to go away.

Altai was reluctant to comply. In the end, it was a good thing to have left the witch to her spell work. Nuodai ran to her from the front. "You have to see this!" he was insisting, tugging her onward, pulling at the lower sides of her breast.

The Pystis dragon pushed Altai all the way to the front, where the mountain went up over a small crest. "Look, Altai!" Nuodai cried. "We're home!"

True enough, the mountain ended in another steep cliff. Before them was a panoramic view of the plateau: a series of hill ranges and ravines covered in high elevation forests, with the occasional butte or mesa. Snow lined the treetops—and much of the land—but from the looks of it, it was nowhere near as terrible and as frightening as the parts exposed directly to the violent blizzards that were most obviously a permanent feature to the paths.

It was a picturesque sight. One that Altai happily burned into memory.

Even though most of the day had gone, even though the sun had dipped beneath the horizon and left the red and green moons in its wake, Altai could still see the Village of Eyria from a distance.

It was impossible to mistake it. Eyria was nestled in a narrow canyon. Sheer walls of rock ensconced the village from both sides. It was difficult to discern each of the stone huts that comprised their homes, but Altai recognized the tall hill that was seated on the outskirts of the village, as well as the stone archway at its entrance, where people welcomed many a visitor, may they have been a trader, an adventurer, or simply an old friend.

If she squinted in the dark, shadowy skies and completely ignored—saw through the white glow of the crystal posts—Altai might have seen the thin wisp of smoke rising up from her home village, from the burning pyres being maintained at the village square.

Ancestors, Altai thought. She felt like falling over and weeping.

And Spring of Fortune, she wouldn't have been the first one. The other messengers had collapsed sobbing from overwhelming joy. Even Nuodai appeared to have done some celebrating on his own, judging by the signs of recent tears around his eyes.

Vinetar Claytor was sitting on his haunches next to her. "Looking at your reactions, it's clear that is our destination," he said, pointing to the village ahead.

The Talonpoint Knight surveyed the landscape. He spotted the path further below and tracked its descent to the forests below, where birch, fir, and rose trees found only in December thrived. A few road crossings used by the bipeds living in the region could be seen from here.

"Quite the trek down there," he continued. "The forest is full of hills, and I think I see a few crevasses." Claytor raised his head and appraised the evening sky. "The sky is clear, but we can't traverse this at night. It's too dark."

Nuodai overheard the dragon's mutterings and responded, "So we're making camp?"

"Yes," said the Vinetar. "But it'll be our last night in the wilds. Tomorrow we'll finally be in Eyria."

The announcement was met with cries of joy and relief. People all over the caravan sighed when they heard their journey was finally coming to an end. Altai stayed at the overlook for a long time, admiring the lands she called home. Her celeste eyes panned the forest. She could see Pystis and Mishkan from here. They had no pyres to maintain; crystals identical to the ones guiding them here illuminated the small villages.

"Still can't believe we're home, huh?" she heard Nuodai's voice. The dragon had been staring longingly at Pystis the entire time, not moving from his spot even after Claytor led the caravan to a camping site closer to Dragon Rock. He tapped his forepaw on hers then pointed to a plateau to the right. It was much shorter than their mountain and even she could see the steep dropoff into the clouds far below it. "See? We were there last cycle fleeing from the Apes."

"Fleeing from the Apes," Altai mumbled at the same time. "I remember. They almost caught us. They captured a few in our lounge right before we threw ourselves off the edge." It was unsettling to observe how nature had completely erased all signs of their struggle in a single red cycle. The snow on the plateau was flat, showing no signs of life.

"I blacked out during that fall," Nuodai said.

"So did I."

"And everyone else. We all woke up hurt."

"Now we're back. We succeeded."

"Not quite," Nuodai corrected. "Just one last day…"

Altai gave the ice dragon a wide smile, lips curling up to bare all her fangs. "Yes, one last day." She started off after the caravan with jovial skips in her steps. "C'mon, Nuodai, let's go."

"You go on ahead," the dragon said. He trained his gaze on Pystis once more. "I'd like to stay here for a little longer."

With the skies clear, the camp was more lively in the evening. By the time Nuodai arrived from his sightseeing, two Earth dragons and one of the Skylanders had returned with ropes in their maws, three freshly-killed mountain yaks in tow.

Another snowfall had begun by the time the caravan had eaten and drank their fill. Expecting another night blizzard, Claytor called upon his knights to put up domes of ice around the campsite and reinforce sections with pillars of earth. Spyro backed the idea completely, knowing it would protect them at night.

Altai chose to sleep on the ground this time. She and the other messengers cleared a space of snow and manipulated the environment into a smaller dome of rock and bluish-white ice. It was a room to themselves, underneath the larger dome that shielded the entire group from the weather.

The dragoness took a spot for herself and curled her body on top of it. She stuck her muzzle into her flank and shut her eyes, leaving her alone with the steady breathing of Nuodai and her peers, the occasional footsteps of the night watch, and thoughts of home.

The messengers had been most active during supper that evening. All six spoke amongst themselves, discussing their parents, their siblings, and the hamlets or villages they left behind. Many expressed hope that their homes—their families hadn't vanished during the entire cycle they've been gone securing reinforcements and supplies from Warfang.

Altai couldn't bring herself to speak too much during that time. She was in a rather privileged position among them. Eyria was still faring well from the way it looked, and she was certain her mother Ophelia was still alive, by Gintomyr's and Ventura's blessings. Her tail wagged slightly at the thought of seeing Mother and Uncle Jayce once more. By the Lifebringer, it had been so long.

With such happy thoughts in mind, Altai fell asleep with a smile on her muzzle. Not even the snowstorm that night bothered her. Her dreams were punctuated with scenes of her diving into Ophelia's breast like a prepubescent hatchling instead of the young dragoness she was. "I'm back!" she would proclaim, crooning with pride even though Mother violated her dignity with continuous licks on her snout.

Altai giggled, batting away her mother's snout and her relentless tongue. Then Ophelia suddenly slapped her daughter's head, striking her horns—

The dream ended abruptly. Nuodai stood above her on all his feet. He crouched low to the ground, eyes veering away from her when he found Altai awake.

Hideous cries reverberated in the air, piercing the eerie screams of tonight's snowstorm. Altai's sleepy expression vanished as she vaguely heard Claytor's yells and deciphered them.

"AMBUSH! GET UP! GET UP! IT'S THE APES! WE'RE BEING ATTACKED!"

---

Author's Notes:

Finally, we get a glimpse of Eyria from a distance! More references to Selema were also included in this chapter. It seemed appropriate to add into the conversation. Once again, thank you Bizzleb for letting me borrow your setting and the few OCs you created.

This series of chapters is named after the area and OST in Spyro: A Hero's Tail and of course the very first one ends in a cliffhanger! :D It was just begging for it.

For anyone keen on following the timestamps, this chapter covers Days 53, 56, and 59. Location is in the northern region of the continent, about a one-week flight away from Warfang (two weeks on foot). Plenty of exposition and world-building in here too. Some of you closely following this story may enjoy it. :3

Thanks for reading, everybody! Stay safe.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And fucking hell! So many reviews! WE BREACHED 600! Wooooooooot~~~ *dances like a happy kid* Thanks, guys! You're all awesome! Thanks for following the story for the last five years. I totally appreciate it.

Now… *groans* time to go over each one...

Replies to reviews:

Chaoscontrol108. Hello! Thanks for the review once again.

Yep, the previous chapter pivoted to Warfang, and for the 46th chapter we went right back to December! I'll be juggling back and forth between the two locations (and the two viewpoints) for a while. I have plenty of content planned until the mid-50s.

A lot of the chapters that involved Vara took place from her viewpoint though, except for that one time she got called to the Audience Chamber to testify for Joshua. But I understand. It's much different when you have a totally new viewpoint to work from.

It's inevitable they'll become closer and develop a good bond. Vara and Blink are part of Joshua's circle of friends now, so that's pretty much a given.

I wouldn't really know if Joshua would actually have an impact on Vara though. She embodies my cousin-in-law's personality (her, and an old college friend). Those people… you can lecture 'em all you want but they're prone to reverting back to their old ways…

Hoped you like this new update!

Guest #1 (guest). Well if Spyro succeeded in killing Joshua… well, I'm not sure if he'd really look worse to be honest, given the situation during the Incident.

Post-Incident, I think the majority would still side with him. Joshua doesn't have a lot of fans in Warfang at the moment.

Djax80. Whoa, looks like I forgot to directly reply to your review. Sorry. D:

I'd like to think Vara will improve over time, provided Joshua's there to facilitate it. If he leaves her alone, she'll most likely regress, just like the IRL people she's based on.

Here's a story. Let's call her Real!Vara to keep this simple. Real!Vara flew to Paris to visit my sister, completely out of the blue. Apparently to escape issues at home. When she was there, she was at her home all the time. She never went out anywhere without my sister or her family. Real!Vara would always eat at her place or outside, at my sister's expense. There was a time when Real!Vara went to… I think it was somewhere in Hungary? They went there together, walking all the way, and she was complaining about the walk and how tired her feet were, and she still expected my sister to pay for everything.

Then my sister learned that Real!Vara went to France with no spending money, and that she had put her on the hook for an extra €1000 charge since Real!Vara left Hungary and returned to France a day before my sister did. Apparently, she only had a credit card, that was filled to the brim thanks to the plane ticket alone. My sister got so pissed off at Real!Vara that she finally invaded her room and told her to stop leeching off of her and her family, and lectured her that her behavior was "completely unacceptable for a guest".

Real!Vara wilted in front of her, sheepishly apologized for it, promised never to do it again, and explained to my sister what was going on at home. My sister called me right then and there, at 3 AM her time, to rant about what Real!Vara did.

Fast forward to the night before my wedding. I heard from my fiancee that Real!Vara is back to her old antics of leeching from people and bossing her hosts around (if not acting pitiful to get free stuff). The days after my wedding, Real!Vara tried to get an extra two free nights at the hotel (costing $80/night in Southeast Asia) from a good friend of mine, and she basically forced herself on him the same way Aimless!Vara does on Joshua.

What's even more shameless? She offered to compensate my buddy with sex! Even though she's not drop-dead gorgeous and she's clearly leeching off of him, squeezing aaall the benefits she can get from him.

TL;DR - one of the two people Vara was based on, and who she is heavily based on, was lectured about coercing other people into doing what she wants at their expense. She ultimately learned nothing from her experience as she didn't have anybody around to keep her grounded upon her return home and had gone right back to where she started.

SindragonV2. Hey! Thanks for the review!

...uhhh you aren't the first person shipping Joshua and Vara, so get in line with the rest of them. As a matter of fact, people have actually paired him with two other 'nesses here. I am not going to comment on anything involving shipping, so y'all are free to speculate based on whatever I've written or commissioned.

You may want to consider the fact that Joshua is a Catholic-raised prude, btw.

TheKazotskyKicker. Hi! Thanks for the review!

Not exactly related to Aimless though…

Still, to answer your question, that's because my OG fic is partly a social commentary of a third-world country, and I happen to be living in one right now.

Some parts of the world are just THAT fucked up.

Sol1234. Tch, I forgot to reply to your review too. Damn, I must've been busy during that time.

Well, you're free to think whatever you want. I'm not gonna stop you. XDDD

If you're wrong though, I won't bother correcting you. Hehehe.

Hoped you like this chapter.

Derick Lindsey (guest). SK and I may be friends, but we don't coordinate like that lol. That our fics updated at roughly the same time was pure coincidence.

Spyro acts like a dick to Joshua for good reason, but his perception of him is being thrown off by the friendships he's gaining and how the apprentices are treating him, so he needs to reassess. Why do you think he took a break and flew off? It's been mentioned a few times in the previous chapters related to the December Cliffs arc.

Harsh but meaningful and likes to mess with her friends? Yeaahh that sounds like Vara all right.

Kilat's possessive, yes. She gets jealous quite easily, actually.

Caught me leaning on the Fourth Wall, huh? LOL. I couldn't resist throwing it in there.

Thanks again for the review!

Piston24. Hi Piston! Thanks for coming back, and thanks for the review.

There's a reason why the previous chapter was called "Moving Up #2". Story-wise, there's nothing much to see, but it IS a heart-warming chapter and it DOES provide some character development. :3

The 46th chapter has plenty of details for you to decipher. So have at it!

Re: Joshua's relationships. Once again, I will provide no comment.

DiabloPProcento. Diablo! It's good to see you!

Oh yeah, definitely. I liked writing the previous chapter. :3

Vara's got it lucky, true. At least she had a moment of self-awareness at the end. Too bad for Joshua, that won't change the way she treats him at all.

I hope you liked this chapter, too. See you in the next update!

Bizzleb. I swear, I haven't replied to many reviews in June, yours included. Jesus, I must've been out of it.

Anyway, thanks for leaving feedback on a slice-of-life chapter.

Joshua and Vara do make good friends, yes. XD And they're exactly the type to quarrel with each other lol. I'll be happy to write 'em again in the future.

Being a bodyguard to the hottest topic in the entire city isn't boring at all. Nope, nope, nope. XD

Bolt Thrower (guest). Some people don't, others do. Everyone has different standards.

And that researcher restricted himself only to the methods and instruments available in that era.

I really don't know what you're talking about re: that cutscene. Spyro woke up to find Sparx and Cynder already awake. So clearly she woke up first. What's not known is how long she'd been awake for.

I didn't say Cynder didn't have PTSD. She went through worse, when you think about it, and she had to live with the guilt and the stigma for the four years between Aimless and DotD. In this story it is presumed that she decided to serve the city together with Spyro as both atonement and therapy. As for your point, during the Incident, she already had years of experience of being discriminated against at face value and while the default stance is to view Joshua as some kind of Ape, upon arrival she saw Joshua in a non-threatening position and had heard him invoke both Spyro's and Ignitus's names, which reduced her initial hostility/wariness towards him. Spyro was already being repulsed by Joshua for reasons that have yet to be explained in-story, but Cynder did not have this compulsion and approached him to talk a bit.

Problem is what would've been a decent first contact easily became complicated because of Kilat's hatred of Cynder, Infernus's prejudice against Joshua, and Rimeer's scheme to murder Cynder and pin the blame on Joshua. Reread chapters 12 through 14 if you don't remember.

SKDaGamer. Ooohh a nice long review! Thanks for putting effort in writing this, man. I appreciate the work.

It's always fun working with Vara. She's a fun character to write. Being with someone like her is probably very draining.

EndlessPossibilities57. It's actually in the spelling. You see, my beta strykeruk LOVES to anglicize the fic as much as possible. I catch every attempt and totally proceed to ignore it since I write using the American style.

So for the previous chapter, I decided to adopt every single one of his British English corrections just for the hell of it.

Thanks for the review!

BronzeHeart92. Hi! Thanks for the review.

And of course I'm proud! GoldenGriffiness (one of the old writers here) recently informed me that Aimless is pretty much among the Top 10 of the Spyro FFN archive and I'm all "OMG". I know this story is, like most hobbies, completely meaningless in the grand scheme of my real life but I'm definitely happy it has gotten this far from all the love and hard work I've put into it.

If my fanfic, or any of my other works, have helped you or any other people in any way, then I'm glad to have played a positive role in their lives.

Zembillas… got an idea of what his nationality is? Maybe I can base his species off of that.

LoNeWoLf (guest). You'd probably confuse the hell out of them if you give them the human version: "Go jump in a lake!"

Guest #2 (guest). Hi! Thanks for the review. Well… I'm sure that'd be something nice to see. You can bet they'll consider him a fellow Ape right from the start. Everybody else just assumes he's an Ape at first glance, so why not the actual Apes themselves? (On the flip side, it'd be so fucking hilarious if they don't consider him one from the onset.)

Guest #3 (guest). Hello! Thanks for the review. Uh, actually, no. Joshua's Element hasn't been revealed yet. I've only revealed two of the major rules surrounding its usage. See the chapter titled "Breakthrough" for that.

Guest #4 (guest). ...Hmm… are you the same person as Guest #3? You're asking questions on the same vein as the previous reviewer…

And yes, it's an Element. It's considered magic just like the other elements available to dragonkind.

Not giving any spoilers on Joshua and Spyro's connection with each other. I might end up giving away the long-term storyline by accident.

Thanks for your review of my fic, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.

Guests #5 and #6 (guest). ...really suspecting you're Guest #4 here (or Guest #3?)...

I'm not exactly sure how to interpret the whole "Spyro represents Joshua on the outside" and vice-versa. They are two distinct characters, even though, as a previous reviewer once wrote, they share some similarities yet they act as foils to each other.

Aaaand I'm not gonna answer that question either. :D

WardenEpsilon. I find it funny that you meant to leave a review on Aimless (for which I thank you) and you ended up going on a long rant on Broken Perceptions.

I replied to you on DA, but I'll put up a concise form of my reply here anyway, as I do put replies to reviews at the end of every chapter.

I do reaffirm that the events in my oneshot Chasing Leads is considered Aimless canon, so anything you glean from it can and probably will apply to the main story.

Yes, character development will happen to them both. I take pride in trying to make things "feel real" as much as possible, and I like to think it's one of the main draws of my writing style. Hopefully I will pull this off well.

Thanks again for your feedback!

EarthPatriot117. Thank you so much for leaving all those reviews! And hey, you got me past the 600 mark! Truly, truly appreciate you for that.

Reading the notifications was fun, btw. It was like watching someone watch a movie and provide live commentary on it.

Re: dragon entitlement/superiority. Blink himself hates the discrimination, so it will eventually be brought up. Joshua does not really say anything as he understands he isn't in modern Earth and isn't the best of situations himself. The last thing he wants to do is jeopardize his momentum by going political.

The favoritism that dragons get and the roles that every species seems to accept at face value are basically forms of institutional discrimination, and many aren't even aware of it.

Hope you enjoyed my 46th chapter!

Fiamma (guest). Hello! Thanks for the review. I went with the lists provided by both National Geographic and Britannica, which all organize Earth's land masses into seven different continents. I went with the geological definition of a continent rather than the original Latin meaning.