PLEASE NOTE: This story contains frequent dark/mature themes, violence and gore.

She screamed. Oh, how she screamed. Her shrill howling was like music to his ears as he raked his long, blood-stained claws across her once earth-green back. The screams were filled with despair, of failure.

She was so close to finally escaping. The exit loomed just a few pawsteps in front of them; she felt like she could almost touch the beautiful night sky as she held her right paw out to it. Just a few more steps and she could have made it. Just a few more. But now, she was going to die and she knew it. The pain was unbearable; she could feel every drop of red blood spilling out of her body, covering her green scales.

Her back was bare as bloodied stumps remained where her wings had been, with large claw wounds streaking down her back to redecorate it. Her tail had been sliced off from using it to try and attack her assailants; the clubbed tail lay a few metres behind her. Her left foreleg was bent backwards so she couldn't run.

Tears streamed down her face, and now all she wanted to do was escape her pain. She begged and pleaded to be rid of it; it was too much for her.

The dragon on top of her chuckled, raising his crimson-coated claws out of the dragoness' flesh, tearing another howl from her throat. The shriek, hoarse and broken, soon gave away, and she could scream no more; she had destroyed her voice screaming, and her lungs were struggling to support her screams.

She continued to fight for breath, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream as she inhaled and exhaled hoarsely, saliva dripping down her jaws and mixing with her tears as they dripped onto the ground together.

Her torturer chuckled once more, digging the claws of his right paw into her flank, before rolling her onto her back so her stomach now faced him. He pulled his claws out of her flank before clawing slowly at her stomach, spraying blood and guts everywhere. He raised his claws out of her, seeing a small strand of intestines that he had severed now sitting between his claws. He twirled it in his claws like a fiddle toy, and it filled the dragoness with unease seeing her internal organs used like a plaything.

He then made a bored, disgusted face, before throwing the intestine to the side with a sickening squelch. It landed on the face of a nearby slave, who, like many other slaves that had been working in the room, was watching the scene unfold before him with horror. The slave let out a horrified shriek as he shook the intestine off his face, before bolting away.

The dragoness' assailant didn't register the slave running off in the background, his sights only focused on her. He placed a strong forepaw on her chest, pinning her to the ground. "You know, you risked a lot pulling the stunt you pulled, Jaarsol," he snarled, baring jagged blood-stained fangs that had torn her wings off. "You let him go. You set him free! I was finally going to have him join the rest of his friends and fulfill his greater purpose, but you decided to stop doing your damn job! You decided to help him escape!"

Jaarsol shuddered, having never seen him with so much rage ever in her life. It was terrified, especially with her blood splattered all over his body, and knowing that so many parts of her had been cut off and thrown to the side around her. But, she remained strong, staring at her assailant directly in the eyes with a strong gaze.

"You don't scare me. I… I-I-I d-did what was right. That's all that matters," she croaked, her voice barely recognisable from the damage her screams had caused it. "And if I d-d-die for doing what's right, then that's how it's m-meant to be. My mate's mindset was the same, as you know, you murderer. At least I'll… g-g-get to see him again when I die."

The dragon standing above her scoffed. "Not before you suffer, my dear."

He thrust her claws into her eyes. Her back arched and her jaws opened as she tried to scream, but nothing more than a croak left her throat. Her vision went dark as searing pain filled her eye sockets, feeling gushes of warm blood flood over her face. He removed his claws from her eyes, leaving puncture marks in them as they stared sightlessly up at the dragon.

His laughing reached Jaarsol's ears; it was the most chilling, sadistic sound she had ever heard. "Is this what your mate would have wanted, Jaarsol? For you to disobey me and end up in this… bloody mess? For you to betray him, as well as the one you were meant to care for after you volunteered to?" he scowled in sadistic chortles. "I could see the look of betrayal in his face when you volunteered. He became a different dragon after that, filled only with fantasies of escape, before I killed him myself.

"And now I see you, having been driven to the same madness that he fell into. Normally I wouldn't care, but in doing so, you also let my most prized possession go. And so because of that, your suffering won't end. I will keep you hanging alive by a thread, trapping your soul in your body, until I have reduced you to a red, bloody pulp, and then I will give it up and send it to your mate, where he will shun you and condemn you for your actions against him! You will suffer for all eternity!"

"You don't know that. You don't know that he'll condemn me," Jaarsol spat.

With a roar, he grabbed her arms firmly. Slowly, he twisted them backwards, sending agony shooting through her bones. He let go and then moved to her forearms, also twisting them backwards at an agonisingly slow rate. She felt every crack and snap of her bones.

She was caught off guard as suddenly pain seared through her legs as he sliced them off. She hated not being able to see anything; she was left unable to anticipate where the fresh pain would come from, not being able to see the monster standing above her move to different parts of her body.

She felt her spirit trying to leave her broken, mutilated body, but with the sound of a low chanting, she felt it stay firmly within her body. At the very least, she knew he was true to his word; now it just meant that she was supposed to endure even more pain than she needed to.

A tailblade shot through her midsection, again and again, stabbing and hacking at her chest and stomach. She felt her lungs filling with blood as he cut through them, and she stopped being able to breathe. The sensation of drowning in her own blood was a horrible one, and she wanted all the more for her spirit to be released.

But the chanting started again, and her spirit remained contained in her body. She tried to fight for breath, but it was just the bubbling of blood in her lungs that she could feel. It filled her entire mind; the sensation of remaining alive to continue struggling for breath long past her death was more horrible than anything she had experienced so far, so the rest of her assailant's attacks on her were barely registered by her. She thought she could feel her tongue pulled out and her horns sliced off, but that was the extent of it.

Jaarsol lost track of how much time she had remained lying on the floor, long past when she should have died, still alive and drowning in her blood, unable to see, feel or hear anything. Her senses had all left her.

He doesn't know that I'll live in constant suffering, she thought. Kyoren still loves me; I believe it with my entire spirit. I know he'll forgive me and continue to love me. He's always stood firm on the notion of doing the right thing, and I believe I've done that. I know he'll be proud of me for doing that, for sending that young one out into the world to find meaning in his life. I may not have escaped, but I'm so glad I helped him leave.

You have no hold over me now, Spyro.

Burn in hell.

With that, she felt Spyro's hold on her spirit be released, and very quickly, the pain began to subside. Her spirit left, and all that remained was a gory, broken vessel, lying on the ground, completely unrecognisable and unidentifiable.

It had been twelve long years since the fall of Naar'voth, and since then, the attacks had become more spaced out and irregular. It had eventually given Cynder the chance to train everyone up a lot more, and to be able to finally lead her own sieges on Dark Peak, to which she had finally managed to escape with a few prisoners. There was still a rather high death count from these missions; it was inevitable due to the immense strength of Spyro's army. Her own army knew what they were signing up for.

There had unfortunately been other new advancements amongst Spyro's army: there were a lot more spies around, sentient dark dragons that were able to shapeshift and blend into regular draconic society, and there was now a new subsection of his army called the Assassin Corps, a group of corrupted dragons, similar to what Malefor had done to Cynder, that went out to take on many missions, that often involved killing people of power.

There was constant fear among Warfangians about these two; it was hard for anyone to trust whether one of their friends could be a spy, or if their new guardians would get targeted by the Assassin Corps, leaving them without guardians once more.

It had taken two years after Naar'voth for the guardians to return from their training at the White Isle, and Cynder had been extremely thankful for their return. It was a hellish two years for her, having to put the needs of all of Warfang first, not just her army. She had also needed to make some diplomatic missions to other draconic cities to try and get alliances to help them fight against Spyro. Some had failed, but many had been a success, and so almost entire populations of cities had moved to Warfang to accommodate the armies moving across—everyone else moved because it was incredibly pointless to leave a city standing defenseless without an army, plus they all believed there was strength in numbers, and with Warfang's population starting to get quite low, it was refreshing to see many large cities join with them and fill the walls of Warfang once more. Of course, she hadn't even gotten to every city, as the Dragon Realms were full of many, many large dragon cities, and many more smaller towns and villages.

The return of the guardians was especially interesting, as they had changed drastically from when Cynder had first met them two and a half years prior. They had matured significantly, and she could tell they were absolutely ready to take on the huge task that was being the guardians.

Ash, the new fire guardian, remained the goof he was and liked to lighten up a situation as best as he could, but he absolutely knew when the time to be mature was, which he had grown a lot in.

Torialis, the earth guardian, was polite and very mature as he always had been. Despite being the youngest, he was quickly appointed the head guardian due to his confidence and ability to lead the other older guardians. He had even gotten much more muscular after his training, but still remained skinnier than Frélix, the ice guardian.

Frélix was quite heavy and bulky, being the oldest of the four. He was quite neutral most of the time and very rarely smiled; he was also the one who would call Ash out on his goofy self, although deep inside, he was thankful for the distraction when the time called for it.

Lagenon, the lightning guardian, was, unlike Volteer before him, pretty quiet and collected, always thinking before he spoke, but was quick to act when he needed to. He and Ash had a close respect for each other, and would sometimes bicker in a friendly tone, much to Frélix's chagrin, however there had been some times where Lagenon had genuinely lashed out at Ash. He had also lashed out at the other guardians before on the occasion, and quickly soon realised that Lagenon had a bit of an anger problem, something she was all too familiar with, as she had developed her own anger issues over the past few years.

Despite their few issues, the guardians seemed to be getting along way better than the previous set of guardians did in their first years—Terrador had told her and Spyro some of the stories way before the War of Eternal Darkness had begun, and the stories were not pretty. The guardians had seemed to settle into their job fairly well too; she could tell it was hard on them, but she figured Ignitus had prepared them well for it. She also worked pretty closely with them on many occasions, and had gotten to know each of them personally. It didn't take long before she knew the current guardians as well as the previous ones, probably even more so.

Immediately upon their return, the guardians had thanked her with heavy emotion for stopping Armageddon. She herself had been brought to tears by their emotion. She had always known that it had been a close call, but hearing of their perspective on it from the White Isle of all places made it extra clear to Cynder just how close they were to the end of the world as they knew it.

It was hard to think back to Armageddon; it still brought her to tears. She thought she had been through her fair share of trauma and was used to it, but Armageddon topped everything she had ever been through. And it hurt knowing that millions of others were dealing with the same trauma, especially those that had been possessed by Naar'voth. Many of the possessed dragons had shied away from society as the Warfangian citizens began to file back in after the evacuation. Their social isolation had lasted for months on end.

Cynder had noticed the time it took for all her friends to begin to return to regular social life: three months for Vetar, seven months for Apata and Freeze, a whole year for Aerus and Pyron, and eighteen months for Muras.

The purple dragon had taken it the worst out of everyone. Even after returning to society, he had mainly spent time with Aerus, trying to sort out their trauma together. They had both started out extremely cautious of Cynder, but Aerus had since begun to open up to her once more. Muras on the other hand, while he was able to talk to her a bit more, he was still very cautious of her, even after twelve whole years.

Vetar and Apata had opened back up to Cynder quickly, as they spent the most time together due to the Warfang Army. Pyron and Freeze were in between the two groups in their rate of somewhat-recovery, but Cynder hardly ever saw Pyron around. Even Freeze was often unsure of how he was doing.

Warfang still remained in very dark times, and Cynder was always worried for what would come next.

Cynder groaned, opening her eyes to the sunlight of the new day shining through her window into her face. With another new day came even more uncertainty. This had been Cynder's life for the last twelve years, and while she hated the reality of it, she had come to terms that it was just reality for her now.

She yawned, getting up as she stared out the window towards the sunrise. It was her first day off in about two years, and she was looking forward to not needing to focus on the army for the day. However, she knew that her work wasn't finished, even on her day off. She had duties to her friends.

Any ounce of spare time she got was often checking in on her friends and her brother to make sure they were okay. They were all still healing together, and they had a lot of healing still left to do, even after twelve years.

Today she wanted to check in on Muras; it had been over a month since she had last seen him. He'd had another episode of isolation where almost no one had seen him. Aerus had seen him once, but according to Aerus, Muras wasn't doing too well.

It upset her to see Muras like this. Armageddon had destroyed him, and she almost didn't recognise him anymore. He was so broken and discouraged, so sad and quiet. He had gotten better, but about a year ago he started spiraling again, and this last month had been the worst of it so far.

She was met with many greetings and happy faces on her way towards Muras' house. As always, she responded with a smile and a slight nod. She took it upon herself to do the best she could to look happy and confident; she knew that a discouraged leader meant a discouraged city. While she was no longer the leader of Warfang, she had been forced to lead it for a long two years after Logron's death, straight after the end of Armageddon, and so many people in Warfang still saw her as a leader. Even though she was just the leader of the Warfang Army now, she still wanted to be the leader that many other people still saw her as and looked up to.

Eventually, she got to Muras' house; it wasn't too big or fancy, but it housed him well and did everything it needed to. He had moved into his new home about a year after the new guardians returned; it hadn't felt right sharing the Warfang Temple with them, and he also just wanted his own space.

Cynder knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again, much harder this time. Once again, there was no answer. "Muras, are you home?" she called, but once again there was no response.

She hoped that Muras was just out with Aerus or something, but she suddenly heard the faint sound of sobbing. Cynder cursed to herself, worry filling her. She dived into her shadow and slid underneath the door, calling out to Muras. She could hear his sobs, but he didn't respond.

Following the sound of his sobs, she found herself at his bathroom, staring down at the purple dragon lying on the ground, holding a bloodied paw firmly to his wrist as blood dribbled out from underneath the paw. Several more scars ran up both his arms, resembling self-inflicted claw wounds, and he seemed skinnier than normal. It looked like he hadn't been eating well.

"H-h-hi, Cynder. How are… how are you doing?" Muras stammered, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"I should be asking you that question, Muras," Cynder murmured.

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Like hell you're fine. I walk into your home to find you on the ground, sobbing, blood spilling from your wrist and staining the claws on your other paw, and on top of that, you don't look like you've eaten," Cynder said. "Muras, I'm worried about you."

"I mean… no, I don't think I've eaten much in two days. As for the blood, it's just—"

"Muras, I know claw marks when I see them. Plus you're covered in them. I know you've been cutting yourself."

Muras didn't respond. He looked away, unable to hold Cynder's gaze. She sat down beside him, placing a paw on his back and rubbing it softly. "Muras, I just want to help you. How come you've been avoiding everyone again?" she questioned, her voice small and soft.

"I'm… I'm scared," Muras whimpered. "I'm terrified of myself. The nightmares came back two months ago. I've been having them every single night. I'm bombarded with memories of how I hurt people, tortured people, murdered people. I hate looking back on who I was back then. I hate knowing that I have the power to destroy lives.

"And over the last month particularly… the focus of them changed. Every single one nightmare I've had over the past month has been of you. Memories of beating you, physically abusing you, using you as a vessel for murder. I've seen it so much in my sleep that it's all I can think about. It's all I can remember. I can't look at you without seeing the monstrosity I created in you. Hell, you even look like… like her now… now that you're older. You were so pure and innocent, and you were the most beautiful little grey wind dragoness I saw. You were almost silver."

Muras choked, his sobs starting to wrack his body as he shook. It was a horrible sight to look at, and Cynder felt herself getting a little emotional watching this. It was hard hearing what Muras had to say too.

"I took all of that away from you," Muras finally continued, his voice quivering. "I took your childhood and your family away from you and replaced it with… evil and horror. All I can remember of you is the things I've done to hurt you. I even… I even had nightmares of Armageddon, when I almost… when I almost…"

Cynder screwed her eyes shut, trying to put the pictures out of her mind as they came flooding back through her memories. Her paw left Muras' side, and she gripped her head slightly. Muras' weeping got harder as he too had the images replay in his mind. That moment was a violation for both of them, and for a good three years after Armageddon, neither of them had been able to talk to each other without feeling incredibly awkward or uncomfortable, sometimes both.

What Muras said next horrified her even more, and it made her understand why he was avoiding her especially.

"Most of those nightmares, you couldn't stop me… for whatever reason," Muras whimpered, gritting his teeth to bite back his emotions and nausea. "Whether it was draining your mana, paralysing you with electricity, it didn't matter. And I wake up, having seen something like that… I lie there feeling sick… hating myself. It ruins my appetite, so I don't eat. I cut myself because I deserve to be physically broken after everything I put you through… and almost put you through. I deserve the abuse I put you through."

Muras' words were slurred by his heavy sobs, so much so that Cynder had to strain to make them out. The purple dragon stammered for a while, before giving up and letting his wails loose. Cynder watched him, her chest burning with complex emotions of pain, sympathy, and disgust. She wanted to put her paw on his shoulder but she couldn't bring herself to. Not after what he had just told her. Not after those images were put back into her mind, of him looming over her, staring down at her with blank and cloudy, yet wild and hungry eyes.

She suddenly caught sight of Muras reaching over to his other wrist with his claws, ready to slice into it. Cynder's heart screamed at her to grab him to stop him, but her body screamed not to touch him. Her mind screamed not to touch him. She sat and watched as long beads of blood began to trickle down his wrist as Muras slowly drew his claws along his flesh.

He stared at both of his paws, his claws stained with his own blood, as he felt the warm liquid dribbling down his arms. Cynder just watched Muras' face, feeling faint at the sight of his eyes. The purple dragon was very alive, but his eyes were dead. There was no life in them.

Suddenly, Muras let out a few violent hiccups, before he retched. His weeping softened, but he remained an emotional mess. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, muttering to himself. Cynder could only make out three words: "I'm… so… hungry…"

Cynder sighed. "How long has it been since you last ate?" Cynder murmured. "Be honest, please."

"I lost count. If I had to guess, maybe twelve days?"

"Oh ancestors, Muras. Really?"

Muras murmured in confirmation with a small nod. Cynder's heart broke for him. She knew he struggled the most out of everyone she knew post-Armageddon, but seeing him relapse like this was painful to watch. Even though she still had complex feelings about him after what happened in Armageddon, she knew that he was as much a victim as her. She knew that he was as much unconsenting as her. She was just glad, for both their sakes, that nothing had actually happened.

"Muras, how about you come out with me for a bit of a hunt? Get some fresh food in our bellies, take out our emotions on some prey," she suggested. "I think you need it especially. If not for the letting out emotions part, for the food part. You need something, Muras."

The purple dragon sat there, silent, before he gave a small nod. "I'll, uh… I'll clean myself up… I'll be out in a moment," he eventually said.

"Are you sure?" Cynder questioned, wanting to be absolutely sure that he wouldn't harm himself further when she left.

"I promise."

Cynder sat there, still doubting him a little bit, but the way he looked at her gave her the feeling that he was being genuine. She nodded, before standing up and walking out of the bathroom. She could hear the sound of running water, a few winces here and there, and the sound of a few gems being broken.

Eventually, Muras walked out of the bathroom, his arms clean of the blood, and his eyes no longer bloodshot with tears. His wrists still bore scars from where he had just cut himself, however.

Once they were ready to go, they left his house and began to make their way through the streets out of Warfang. They had to walk as Muras was too weak from not eating, so he wasn't able to hold up his own weight anymore. Cynder knew he was unlikely to eat much, after having not eaten for almost two whole weeks, but as long as he got some food into his body, that was enough.

They reached a forest just outside of Warfang, and before long, Cynder had caught two small rabbits. Muras had even managed to catch one, but only just; he wasn't as fit as he used to be either.

They settled down out in a small opening where the sunlight shone through the trees down onto them, and began to eat, splitting their three rabbits evenly between each other. Cynder was done pretty quickly, and Muras took his time. She couldn't tell if he was struggling to eat it, or if he was just taking his time because he was shy and awkward around her. He definitely seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

Muras wasn't too far from finishing his food, before a loud scream suddenly caught their ears. It was young and masculine, pre-pubescent yet not childish.

Confused and concerned, Cynder stood and walked cautiously towards where the scream came from, and Muras stumbled slowly after her. They walked for a little bit, before they reached a small clearing, and Cynder paused with a gasp as she watched the scene unfold before her.

It was a young male dragon, about twelve years old, pinned to the ground under a fearbringer and a shadowclaw. The dragon was crying, pleading for the dark dragons to get off him, but they wouldn't. His pleas began to get louder and louder, to the point where Cynder wasn't sure if it was actually possible for a dragon as young as he was to scream that loud… let alone any dragon.

But neither the fight, the younger age of the dragon, or the sheer volume of his voice was what shocked Cynder. What truly shocked her was the colour of the dragon's scales.

They were purple.

Happy new year everyone, and welcome to Outcast, Book 2 of Purple Legacy! Thought I'd start off the year by starting off Outcast. I started writing this about midway through December and also finished Chapter 1 too, which I might post next week or something. Had a pretty good roll with writing so far so I hope to cycle through as much GEM and Outcast as I can.

I'm looking forward to seeing what you guys all think of this, and also to get a start on this! Demonised took a good six years to complete since I began writing it in mid-2017, and it's a huge accomplishment to finally call Demonised finished and be able to move onto the second book in the series. Been working to get here for ages and it's finally here. Thanks to all who was along with me on the journey with Demonised, and I hope you all continue to stick around for Outcast, and that it's enjoyed by everyone!

Hope everyone had a great new years, and I'll see you all with the next chapter, whether it's for GEM or Outcast!