Glub was your typical grublin. He was of the same small stocky build as his spawn mates. Not the tallest of his kin, but not the shortest by any means. That honor went to Glib. But the one thing that set him apart from his kin, was his intelligence.
Now Glub wasn't a genius by any sense of the word, but he was smarter than the average grublin. So when the small pink one came into his kinds territory boasting they'd be just like their sire, Glub knew going after her was a bad idea. Not because he felt bad for her, but because he knew doing so would draw the wrath of the great purple one. The same great purple one who slew the great dark one, his kinds very creator.
Glub was one of the few of his kin that lived back during the dark one's war. He fought on the frontlines, watching as many of his kin were slain by the great reptiles. They were powerful, far more than any single grublin. One reptile, even the weakest among them, could take on dozens of grublins at once. If it wasn't that grublins spawned in the dozens at such a rapid pace, they wouldn't have even been considered a minor threat to the reptiles.
That all changed when the great purple one, little more than a youngling at the time, entered the fight alongside the fallen black traitor. Alone they were monsters on the battlefield, demons that would haunt his dreams for years to come. Together, they were unstoppable, untouchable. On the field of battle they worked together flawlessly, covering each other's weaknesses, creating devastating combos. It was like they were dancing together in the blood of Glub's kin rather than fighting a war. It was a nightmare that had kept Glub up at night many times as the years went by. And now, at least partially, he was reliving that nightmare again.
The small pink one, ward of the great purple one, had entered their territory. Boasting and claiming to be just like her sire, her 'papa'. But her fire was small, untrained. The blue flames were different, burning hotter than any other fire encountered before, but they weren't nearly enough to stop the hoard. It didn't take long before the small pink one realized their folly, their bravado turning into fear as she let out a panicked scream, trying to summon the great purple one. The fear in her voice turned to pain as one of Glub's kin managed to slice her leg as she attempted to flee, causing her to trip and stumble onto her side. Said assailant stood over her, a stubby foot over her neck as he rose his blade high to strike her down. That was as far as he got before his head vanished from his shoulders.
Their body slumped lifelessly to the ground with a wet thunk. His decapitator standing over the injured pink youngling protectively, the severed grublin head in his possession. With a flick of his wrist, the great purple one tossed the head aside, like a piece of bloody trash, before launching his whole being forward, and letting out an ear popping roar that reverberated across the whole island. Glub took that as his cue to leave. Dropping his club, he turned and made to run for the tree line, only to smack into the legs of a shockingly solid cloaked shadow.
"Trash…" Dante said as he extended his arm and grasped the cowardly grublins face, setting it alight in his grasp. He didn't let go until the thing stopped screaming. Tossing the grublin aside, he dashed over to Spyro and Ember, kneeling down to examine the younglings wound. "That is not good." He said as he ripped off his sleeve and secured it over Embers wound. "Spyro, we need to go now. Ember needs immediate-" His words were cut off by the guttural growling coming from the purple dragon.
"Dante, Somethings wrong with Spyro!" Shadows panicked cry caught the revenants attention. "He's not responding to us at all! It's almost like…" Shadow trailed off, his eyes widening greatly. "Oh no… no, no, no, No! How could we have forgotten?!" He panicked as he looked up at Dante who, to his shock saw the shadow start to fade from the ground and… meld into Spyro. "Get Ember out of here! We don't…" Shadow's voice faded as he completely merged with Spyro. Seeing the dark swirl on Spyro's golden chest rapidly grow into interconnecting lines on his scales, and the misty shadow aura begin to radiate from his being, Dante wasted no time in grabbing Ember and fleeing into the forest. Leaving Spyro alone with the grublin hoard.
Spyro had been lenient with them, tolerated their presence on the island for years. Even after they killed Ember's parents, leaving her an orphan, he'd let them continue existing. So long as they stayed away and didn't do anything to hurt him or Ember. Especially Ember.
"Perhaps… I was being too soft…" He muttered, his voice shifting tones as he spoke. His scales bled black, his horns and chest shifted to silver, and his pupils fade to pure white. All he could feel was… rage… anger… hate… and pain… so much pain… His body hunched over suddenly, as the worst pain he could remember surged through his body. But he didn't cry out, or turn from the pain. Quite the opposite actually. He leaned into the pain, feeling power within.
One of the grublins, seeing him hunched over like that, mistook it for a moment of weakness. It charged at the seemingly injured Spyro, weapon raised and shrieking war cry bellowing. It was stopped dead as Spyro's tail whipped around and skewered it through the rib cage. Flinging the small creature away, Spyro let out a dark bone chilling chuckle.
"So pathetic… you… vermin… pests! I should have gotten rid of you all a long time ago…" He said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Guess that's my mistake… Oh well… I'll rectify that… right… NOW! He exclaimed as he suddenly charged into the grublin line, barreling into them and breaking their formations. He lifted his head, two of the flailing creatures impaled on his horns. He flicked them off into the crowd and let out a cruel chuckle. "Make this fun For me…" With that he let out a stream of black fire, the heat alone melting the flesh from their bones before the actual flames made contact.
The sight struck fear in many of the grublins, and like Glub tried before them, they turned to flee. They didn't get far though before a large wall of rock rose out of the ground, surrounding everyone there in an inescapable arena. "Oh… none of you are going anywhere!" Spyro said as he grabbed the spear of one brave, or rather foolish, charging grublin and snapped it in half before burying the head into the diminutive creatures eye.
Seeing no escape, many of the grublins charged, swords and spears and clubs in hand, hoping to overwhelm Spyro with numbers. Spyro chuckled as he met them head on with fang and claw, not even using his elements to fight off the hoard. He clawed at three, bit down on one, and a rather daring grublin tried jumping on his back, only to be skewered on Spyro's tailblade. This continued on for a while, a repeated cycle of slash, bite, stab as dozens of dead grublins piled up around him.
His rhythm was broken however as an arrow sunk into the side of his neck, stunning him. Two more to his leg and eye soon followed. Seeing an opportunity, the hoard rushed him, piling up around and on him. They stabbed at him, clubbed him, bit him, even tried ripping him apart with their bare hands. Just when it seemed they won however, they were suddenly flung back by a violent surge of dark energy that shook the entire island and caused massive spikes of earth to rise for the flying grublins to land on.
Spyro was… not good. Bleeding profusely, patches of scales missing, various puncture and stab wounds across his body, and blind in one eye. But he still had that cruel smile on his snout, still chuckled that sinister laugh. Reaching up to grasp the arrow in his right eye socket, he unflinchingly yanked it out, tearing out the ruined eye and nerve as well. He chuckled as his aura flared, and to the horror of the watching grublins, he began to heal. His skin and scales re-grew, the other arrows in him simply popped out, he opened his eye to reveal an undamaged ocular organ, and most shockingly of all his wing, tattered and useless for nearly a decade, just… fell off and re-grew back to its full glory.
"Ahh… that is so much better…" He sighed in content, flexing his wings, and popping some of his joints. Looking back at the tattered remains of the grublin hoard, his smirk widened. "It's been fun… not really, but either way, it's time I ended this." With a great flap of his wings, he rushed up high in the air, hovering for a moment to feel the crisp breeze of the sky. "Oh… how I've missed this." He said before he tucked in his wings, and started falling. Curling up into a ball, a sickly green energy began surrounding him as his scales turned hard as stone. With a loud echoing bang, he slammed down into the ground, shaking the whole island and sending all the remaining grublins soaring. Most died on impact with either the ground, or the walls he rose earlier. Those that didn't would die soon anyway.
"Well now… that was fun." He said as he pulled himself out of the deep crater he landed in. "But that can't be all of them. There has to be more on the far side of the island… Guess I'll have to go and pay them a visit." He turned to leave, only to stop as the sound of beating wings caught his ear. "Oh… who could that be?" He got his answer in the form of an armored black dragoness landing in front of him.
Cynder had just arrived at the area of the fight… if it could even be called that… what was once a vast swath of trees and foliage, was now nothing more than a barren lifeless crater. The mangled bodies of countless grublins lay scattered and flung about, and an ominous black fire burned wildly off to the side, turning what little remained of the trees and grass to Ash. "By the ancestors…"
"They have nothing to do with this ma'am." An echoing voice caught her off guard. So caught up in the mindless destruction around her, she failed to notice the other figure standing nearby.
"S-Spyro…" She stuttered. It was him, even under all that darkness, and a decade older, it was him. The dark dragon cocked a brow at her, his gaze curious and piercing.
"You know my name? How… interesting…" He said chillingly calm as he looked her over, like he was trying to solve a puzzle in his head.
"Of course I know your name Spyro, I… it's me… Cynder."
"Cynder… Cynder… Oh, That's right! You're the dragoness from Dante's story! The terror of the skies!" He said in a chipper tone, happy to have pieced together the puzzle of who this… strangely alluring female before him was.
Cynder meanwhile, flinched back as if slapped. She'd long since gotten over the whole… terror of the skies part of her past… mostly. But hearing him of all dragons, even when warped like he is now… refer to her as such…it hurt… "I…Spyro… why don't you just… come back with me… I… Ember would probably want to see you once she wakes up."
"Huh, Ember? Oh right her… I'm sure she's fine. She's a strong one I tell you. I'll stop by to check on her in a bit. I've got… a pest problem to deal with." He said as he turned away from her, only for Cynder to bolt in front of him, blocking his path. "…Don't tell me you're a grublin lover."
"No I am not a grublin lover, you should know that!" She exclaimed at him. This was all wrong, he shouldn't be like this. Even with his mind… clouded like this, he should still remember her. He did in the past, so why not now?
"Sorry, but I don't… I don't remember anything before the island." He said actually sounding sorrowful.
"What?" Cynder was stunned, of all the scenario she'd played out of meeting him again, memory loss was never something she foresaw. Yeah she did consider that she might find him consumed by his inner darkness, she dreaded such a scenario happening, but she never thought… "Why? How?"
"You're just missing the who and when, then we'd have a full set." He said jovial, trying to crack a joke… it wasn't funny. "Tough crowd…"
"This is serious!" She shouted, getting right in his face, actually getting him to fall back a few steps. "How could you forget! Why are you like this! Don't you care about-" She froze when he suddenly rubbed his snout against hers, causing her to go wide eyed with a light dusting of red on her cheeks.
"You're actually kind of cute when you're all worked up, you know that?" He said so simply and casually, almost as if he didn't just… Cynder's blush turned into a scowl, and a loud smack was heard across the field. If looks could kill, Spyro would be dead ten times over right now.
"Listen to me and listen well you… you… URGH!" She screamed to the heavens at the absurdity of her current situation. She was expecting to be fighting him right now, trying to get him back to normal so she could take him back to his daughter and them back to Warfang. Not…this… "Okay! Listen to me now! You are going to turn back to normal, and you're going to follow me back to your den so we can check on your daughter! Understood!"
He smiled at her. There was something about her that was so… commanding. It's like he wanted to follow her orders. Like he'd do anything she'd tell him to do… "Yes ma'am!" He said a little too happily, giving her a quick salute before letting the shadows fade away. Once back to his usual purple hue, he suddenly slumped over, coughing and gasping for air. He brought a paw up to his mouth, and when he pulled it away, there was an unhealthy amount of blood.
"Oh… that's… not good…" He was weak and lethargic, and he wasn't completely back to normal. The dark swirling pattern on his chest was far more prominent now, and some if the swirls branched out up his chest and neck, stopping just under his left eye. There was also the matter of his wings, one was the expected orange and red he'd always had, but the other, the one that was just re- grown, was the same silver and purple it was when in his dark form.
"Ancestors Spyro, what the hells happened to you?" Cynder couldn't help but ask panicked.
"I'm not too sure myself…" He said as he lifted his gaze up at her. "Um… so you have me at a disadvantage here ma'am … Can I have your name since you seem to know mine?" Cynder couldn't help but internally scream.