Legend of Spyro: Four Pillars of Aether, Book II

by Blazcowitz43

Three years later, Warfang has fallen and tyranny reigns. Guilt-ridden and long thought dead, Spyro has left his home and prophecy behind for a new life of peace with the dragonflies in the distant swamps. But the war rages on for Cynder, Flame and Ember, who among others fight back against Gaul's rule as Malefor's return draws nearer. Will the Four Who Lived become one again?

12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Where the Heart Is

The flames were all around him, stretching upward into the sky as Spyro ran across a wide area of grass, the air thick with embers that stung his eyes as he ran towards the voice calling his name! The fires roared and danced like they were possessed by minds of their own, creeping ever inward as Spyro galloped as fast as he could, the voice still echoing out to him,

'SPYRO!'

The heat was indescribable, his mouth as dry as a desert as he coughed up the smoke rushing into his mouth, but he didn't slow down. He ran on until his foot caught a root he hadn't seen through the haze, tumbling over himself across the ground, not unlike the fall he had taken earlier that day in his race with Sparx. His face fell into a patch of burning grass, Spyro crying out as he rolled on his back, swatting his paws across his face as the embers scalded him. He lay there panting, his face singed as his eyes became swollen and misty, looking up at the sky above him.

Clouds of embers rose upward as the Celestial Moons hung right above him like two malevolent eyes, the green and red spheres crossing into each other, the former blocking out the latter! In that instant there was an eclipse, the moons forming a single, black sphere as the sky all but vanished, only a faint shimmering outline showed where the new black hole in the sky was. The flash alone near blinded him, Spyro pulling himself to his feet as he became disorientated, no longer sure where he was trying to go in the world of fire and smoke.

In the moments after the flash, the fires suddenly bellowed in more intensity, their roars accompanied by a new sound that seemed to rise from the ground beneath him. All around, as if he were surrounded by a ghostly crowd, wailing shrieks and disembodied voices began to ring. Their utterances were whisper like, incomprehensible, rasping and snarling, creeping under his skin and into his mind like an army of souls looking for a body to claim…

'Spyro…' a croaking, wind like voice uttered amidst all the demonic tongues.

'Wha…What?' he replied helplessly.

'Spyro…' said another, almost invitingly.

'No…' his voice quivered.

'Spyro!' wailed another still, huskily and venomously in a snake like hiss.

'Go away!'

The voices continued to taunt him, thousands of them, overlapping and drowning out every other thought in his mind. He could no longer hear the roar of the flames or the pounding of his heart as he screamed and thrashed like he was being attacked, his claws dragging down and bloodying the sides of his head as Spyro seemed to try and dig out the voices that refused to stop wailing in his mind.

'MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!' he yelled as hard as he could utter, his vocal cords near cracking and his head feeling like it would explode. Then something broke through.

'SPYRO! SPYRO! HELP ME!'

The army of voices in his head were suddenly pushed back as the voice calling for help drowned them out, Spyro snapping from his near maddened state and staring ahead through the blinding curtain of flaming sparks. He took off once more, rushing towards it as the haunting voices seemed to pursue him, Spyro not daring to look back as they moaned and chattered behind him, uttering his name amidst the chorus of unnatural tongues. The smoke seemed to clear ahead, the young dragon charging across the ground as the curtain of flames drew ever closer, seeing an opening in the earth straight ahead. He recognized it at once.

Stretching out in front of him was the same narrow gorge where he had confronted the feared Masked Assassin, the gorge trailing off into the fiery haze as he came to a skidding halt on the edge of the wound in the earth, the voice calling to him from within. Spyro leaned over and stared down to the gorge, finally recognizing the voice that went with the figure he saw down below.

"Ignitus!" he called out, the purple dragon gazing in horror as he met the eyes of the wounded Fire Guardian, laying down in the gorge just as he remembered seeing him, bloodied and scarred after the battle that had killed the Assassin. The clouds of embers floating down the passage began to catch the walls of the gorge alight, lighting unnaturally fast and creeping towards the wounded Guardian. Ignitus eyed him pleadingly, begging to not be left to die as the gorge filled with the hellish orange glow…

Suddenly, a terrible, blood curdling roar unlike any Spyro had ever heard sounded across the blackened sky as he looked up, glimpsing an enormous pair of wings blotting out the outline of the Celestial Eclipse. Knowing it could only be Malefor, Spyro wasted no time, springing down and diving into the gorge without a thought, making a fast vertical glide towards his stricken mentor. The creeping flames were mere seconds away as he landed beside the Fire Guardian, trying not to let his bloody wounds distract him.

"We've got to go, Ignitus, we've got to go!" Spyro cried, nudging, and forcing his weight against his side, trying to make him get up. Ignitus groaned and stammered, the surrounding flames almost upon them.

"Spyro…" he choked out.

"You can do it!" the purple dragon shouted as he jabbed his horns into the Guardian's belly, trying to make him stand, "I can do it! I can save you this time!"

The bone chilling, high pitched roar suddenly filled the entire trench, the noise stunning Spyro as he looked up, his heart stopping as a seeming fog of darkness descended upon him! He screamed as he was enveloped in an instant, a swirling, billowing cloud of shadowy smoke whipped around him like the thorns of a malevolent vine. At once he lost any sensation in his body, paralyzed from the neck down as the phantom of black cloud pulled him back like he was caught in a net, up and away from the Fire Guardian.

"Spyro…!" Ignitus cried hauntingly as the flames closed in on him, the trench suddenly erupting in geysers of fire that swept all around and consumed him like water flooding a river.

"NO!" Spyro wailed as he was yanked from the trench, the flames spilling outward and up as Ignitus disappeared before him. The phantom of smoke tossed him from its grasp, Spyro thrown through the air before collapsing and tumbling across the smoldering earth, screaming and crying hopelessly as he crashed through burnt out grass and trees, the image of Ignitus's writhing body taking over his mind. When he came to a stop, he did not remain idle, forcing himself up through the pain as tears rolled down his eyes, gazing towards the shifting and sweeping cloud of black smoke that slithered through the air towards him.

"Fight me, you coward!" Spyro raged in vendetta, wanting Malefor to show his face, "I'll kill you, Malefor! I'LL KILL YOU!"

The churning black smoke made a beeline for him, sweeping and morphing as it did, a pair of scowling eyes of pure white flashed into being as a figure seemed to form beneath its billowing cloak, a figure seemingly in the shape of a great dragon. Before he had a chance to even bare his teeth, the shadowy figure collided with him, Spyro taking a blow like a hammer to his chest as he was swept in a blinding cloud of black mist. He was suddenly taken into the air, grasped in a pair of forelegs as his body became paralyzed again, the glowing eyes gazing straight back at him. The shadowy cloak hid the features of Malefor, but that it was him was in no doubt.

Spyro tried to fight back, but his elements would not summon and his body felt like it was bound in rope as he was flown higher and higher through the clouds of rising sparks, the fiery pit of the gorge coming into view below him. The glowing eyes narrowed at him, Spyro suddenly losing the heart to fight as fear took hold of him, the shadowy figure looking less and less like Malefor as the black fog slowly receded. The blood in his face chilled into ice as the smoke faded away, the purple dragon looking up in despair as the white eyes morphed into something familiar to him, yet completely alien. He hung helplessly in the grip of a pair of piercing claws as the great black and crimson wings kept them aloft, Spyro feeling his heart stop as the eyes changed into a shade of emerald that he knew as well as his own name, but tainted with a malice that knew no bounds.

"If only it were that easy, little one," said a cold, yet seductive voice as the black and red dragoness lowered her head to him, the triangular marking on her skull shinning like the spine like horns atop her head. The final realization struck him with the subtly of a lightning strike.

"Cynder?"

There was a sudden sharp pain that tore through his belly and through his back, the shock more painful than the blade as the monstrous, fully grown version of Cynder ripped her razor like tail scythe from his body. The black dragoness released him from her grip as he felt his insides pulled out, the purple dragon falling like a rock towards the flaming trench below. He screamed away the last few moments of his life, his demise at the claws of the monstrous terror of the sky that Cynder had become, the purple dragon looking down and then disappearing into the fiery pit where his heart had already died with Ignitus…

Spyro awoke as if he had been bitten, gasping deep in his chest like a victim of a near drowning. He awoke with such a start that he rolled off his bed onto the dirt, still panting as he looked up as the lavender glow of the great mushroom hanging over top of him. He pulled in his legs and tail, balling himself up as he fell on his right side, staring out into the surrounding swamp as he panted with an open mouth, his heart jumping in and out of his throat. He didn't know how long he lay like that for, but eventually his heartrate and breathing slowed as he craned his neck around to look behind at the small hut hanging from the overhanging mushroom. He saw no one, sighing with relief that he hadn't awoken them and that they hadn't seen him in such a state.

With unsteady legs, he finally pushed himself up and walked a few steps out of the cover of the mushroom, stepping into the glow of the moons, his wings drooping down as he sat with a confused, mournful expression. The purple dragon looked up, seeing the crimson Adrana and the green Zella, the two moons set apart but close to each other as he had always seen them, as he had always thought of them. For the first time in his life, he did not think they were beautiful, not after what he had just seen. He lowered his head and stared blankly into the tall mushrooms and plants in front him, remaining in still silence, barely blinking or breathing as he mentally overviewed everything he had seen in his nightmare.

A world in flames. A Celestial Eclipse. Haunting voices from another world. Failing to save Ignitus. A colossal terror from the skies cloaked in shadowy, mystical black smoke. A pair of empty white eyes becoming emerald once again. The eyes of Cynder. Spyro lifted himself onto his feet, scowling deep in thought as the visions of the nightmare were soon added to the earlier thoughts of the day, the memories he had managed to keep from his mind for so long. He had barely thought about it in over a year; of anything of his old life. But then Cynder had come back to mind during his race with Sparx and again when he saw the cloud whose shape had reminded him of her. Now he was having nightmares again, but this had been worse than any of them, worse than the first that had occurred when he had first arrived in the swamp.

The visions of the burning temple, the screams of his friends for help that he could not answer. The white eyed, corrupted versions of his closest companions taunting and attacking him, all under the gaze of Gaul the Ape King and Malefor himself. There had been a few others like that in the first year, but by the second and going on into the third, Spyro had slept with nothing but pleasant dreams. Now he'd just had the worst of them all. Why was it happening again? Why now? What did it mean? Restless, confused and frightened, Spyro began walking, almost unconsciously so, his eyes and head shifting and tilting as his mind entered an almost mechanical state, deliberately and repeatedly scrolling over every thought and feeling that he had as he started off away from the Sparx home, his home, wandering off down the path towards Dragonfly Falls, his soul feeling broken once more…

The sleepy dragonfly village came into view, though Spyro hardly took any notice. The walk there had been slow, the purple dragon muttering to himself about everything that was going on in his head, everything that he had seen in the hellish vision that haunted his mind. He finally stopped and looked up when he came to the short drop down into the large, round expanse of shallow water the village was built around, its network of several mushroom towers standing before him in a way that reminded him of the towers of Warfang. Glistening with the lavender glow of the mushroom gills were the various Spirit Gems hung decoratively from the towers like colorful crystal medallions amidst the numerous huts of each mushroom stalk. One of the gems stood out from the rest, a large turquoise cluster that outsized all the others, hanging from the base of one of the huts on the taller of the mushroom towers.

It was the home of the Buzzbii couple, whom he'd had to help clean up the mess he and Sparx had made of the gem they had collected to hang from their home. He had gone and found the largest he could find that would not threaten to bring their home crashing down, the fact that it was a blue Spirit Gem was an added bonus, given how rarely he had seen them around the swamp. The Buzzbii's had been more than pleased when he returned with it, the lithe blue cluster catching the moonlight in a way none of the others did. The serenity of the glimmering gems amidst the lavender glow of the mushroom stalks under the full moons was palatable, almost strong enough to taste in the air.

At any other time Spyro would have thought he same, but not tonight. He disregarded the scene after only a few moments, taking the short drop with an easy step now that he was older and bigger, his paws barely submerging beneath the waters that ran gently from the upper waterfall to the outer fall where the purple dragon had sent the monstrous Arborick plummeting on his first day in the swamp. He found himself walking across the shallow pond as quietly as he cared to avoid waking anyone up, the sky opening before him as he approached the falls. Close to the edge of the falls was a flat, oval shaped boulder that rose just high enough that the water did not flow over it, Spyro had placed it their himself not too long after arriving in the swamp so he could watch the view without getting his feet and haunches soaked in muddy water. It was only just wide enough for him to sit on now, owing to three years of growing.

Gloomily, sleepily, Spyro shuffled himself over his makeshift seat and sat himself down, his tail curling around himself as its tip lightly whipped across the surface as the waterflow passed on slowly by around him, its ambience refreshing to his ears. He sighed as he looked out upon the view from the summit of Dragonfly Falls, the Celestial Moons casting their blankets of shared light over the seemingly never-ending expanse of hills and plateaus covered by the distinctive mushroom forests and mangrove plants. Far below, the river cut through it all like a great silver vein, swirling and banking its way out of sight across the landscape bathed in the lavender, nocturnal glow of the swamp plants. He used to think of how much it reminded it him of his old temple home, but over time he had come to think only of this place and the world that surrounded him here whenever he gazed upon it. Now he was thinking about the temple again, about how much the hills and plateaus were like those that surrounded it. And he hated that he remembered.

He leaned back and looked at the sky, the stars staring back at him with their millions of eyes, asking him why he was here. Why was he so far away from the world that so depended on him? Why was he living like an outcast amongst a species that he was nothing alike, yet had become so easily welcomed by? What was his purpose to be in this place, in the world at all? He had long stopped caring to ask these questions, long stopped thinking about them, until today. Why now? Why had it all come back? All because he had remembered Cynder's encouraging words? Because he imagined seeing her face in the clouds?

'It felt so real, like I was back there,' he thought to himself as the recollection of racing her across the deck of the Doxantha came back to mind, but only moments later, the hellish nightmare he had endured came back like an axe blow to the head, drowning out the happy memory in a fiery vision of the world and the inexplicable depiction of his lifelong friend and crush, Cynder, as a fully grown monster dedicated to his destruction. That had felt all too real, as had the flames he had seen himself falling into where Ignitus had been burned alive.

"What does it mean? It doesn't make sense," he said quietly to himself, staring around blank eyed like a lost child, "I never… she never… Ignitus didn't…. Why? Why?" he asked helplessly.

Had it been a premonition? A vision of something to come? No, it couldn't be. Ignitus was already gone and could not be killed twice. And in any case, he could never imagine Cynder becoming something like that anymore than he could imagine himself like that. It just could not happen. Why then had it been in his dream? Spyro sealed his eyes shut, ducking his head and scowling like he had been overcome by a skull shattering headache, breathing deeply and tensely. For several moments he remained like that, his front paws clenching hard into themselves as he tried to purge the horrific imagery that kept coming back, each image that flashed in his mind like a needle poked into his heart over and over, tormenting him, reminding him of his failure.

His chest tightened with every breath, his skull felt like it was compressing, ready to shatter like an eggshell. The disembodied voices that he had heard began to fill his ears again, chattering and mocking in their indiscernible tongues. He raised his paws up to his head, squeezing them hard against it as he rocked his head around, trying to drive them away as his tail began thrashing behind him like it had a mind of its own. The pain was excruciating, Spyro drawing a snarl like breath through his mouth as the urge to scream was soon too much to bear. He shuddered hard, throwing his head back as his mouth opened in an agonized release of all his darkest, bleakest emotions.

The water drifted on by as the peaceful slumber of the swamp remained unbroken, for the expected scream never came. Spyro's eyes remained shut as his chest relaxed and his head suddenly felt light, like the storm brewing inside it had vanished. He breathed calmly, his body loosening up as he placed his paws back down on the rock and slowly lowered his head, his wings arching forward before folding behind him. Inhaling a deep breath, the purple dragon slowly lifted his head as his eyes finally opened, filled with a notable shimmer as he stared up at the Celestial Moons that reflected like mirrors in his amethyst spheres.

From the corner of his right eye streaked a single tear of silver, the thick droplet running down the side of his face and over the edge of his mouth, the culmination of every single emotion and thought that he had fought with only moments ago. All of it expunged through a single tear, yet carrying the weight of his whole life with it as the droplet fell from the bottom of his jaw and dripped silently into oblivion against the rock beneath him. The stream it left on his scales shined as Spyro swallowed, his gaze towards the moons unwavering as he regarded them and the stars with passive, questioning silence. He didn't know for how long he did so, but eventually he gave in to the one thing he felt he had left to try, no matter how pointless it seemed.

"Chronicler?" he asked softly to the sky, to himself, "Are you there?"

He didn't know what to expect, if his words were being wasted on the night sky. The Chronicler had only spoken to him in the two bizarre dreams he'd had, apparently induced by the Chronicler himself, of the strange otherworldly realm with its temple lookalike and dark blue and purple skies stretching on for infinity that apparently existed in his mind. But if the Chronicler, who or whatever he was, could do that, what else could he be capable of? He had nothing to lose by trying.

"I don't understand," he continued mournfully, "You said I had to hide myself, become nothing but a memory…Ride out the storm…" he said, as the very words as he recalled them repeated in his mind,

"Ride out this storm, Spyro. You must keep yourself from the world. You must remain hidden until the time comes for you to emerge. You must remain isolated from everything you know. The world must believe you are gone so your enemies will not seek you out. Live for the day that you are called upon. When that day comes, I will summon you. But until then, you must become but a memory."

"I've done what you asked," he declared in a quaking voice, "But I've heard nothing from you! It's been so long, three years! Ride out the storm? How long can the storm last? Was I even supposed to come here? Did you want this to happen?"

He gazed around the stars anxiously, as if hoping they might answer him or he might be pulled into another induced dream and wake up in that strange dream realm. But the stars remained silent and he felt as wide awake as ever, the purple dragon ducking his head down into his shoulders as his tail curled around his feet tightly.

"You said you couldn't tell me everything," he remarked glumly, "Even things that could have saved Ignitus. You told me if I went back to find my friends, I would die trying to save them…"

His head rocked from side to side like a boat on a wavy ocean, Spyro squeezing his lips together as he tried to keep himself from breaking into a pitiful state of sadness, toughening up enough to look back at the sky with a renewed look of confused anger.

"I would have done so gladly for them if my life wasn't supposed to be so important," he said with an almost mocking disdain, "I don't even know if I believe in that anymore. You couldn't even tell me for sure if they would survive without me, only that I would die if I tried. Why haven't you said anything? Why have you let me sit here for so long, knowing nothing? I want to know what happened to them!"

Spyro only just noticed how loud he was becoming, looking behind to make sure his voice hadn't razed any of the dragonflies from their sleep. When no faces popped out of windows of any of the dragonfly huts that he could see, he turned his head back and looked at the stars and the moons again, deciding they were as good as any representation of the Chronicler who was nothing but a voice to him. As he took several heated breaths to calm himself, Spyro felt his anger simmering under his scales, mingling with the despair already present in the pit of his stomach.

"I had so many sleepless nights, waiting on you to send for me, but you never came. Now I have a life here, a family, a real family, and I never slept so well until I stopped waiting on you. Until tonight," he said trepidatiously, shaking his head slowly in horrific disbelief of the nightmare that had awoken him in the first place, "That wasn't a nightmare, it was something else… something I can't even begin to understand. What does it mean? Why did I see that? See Cynder like that? Are you listening to me?!"

He barely kept his voice down as he sprang to his feet as if ready to fight, glaring angrily at the sky that only offered silence as an answer. He knew then that he was only talking to himself as if he had lost his mind, yet as if by habit, Spyro felt the need to continue to verbally convey his thoughts to the night. He allowed himself a moment to calm as a thought that had lingered from time to time came to the forefront of his mind, something that seemed all the more plausible to explain why he had heard nothing from the Chronicler.

"Maybe this is what you wanted," he remarked cynically, looking down until his head was level with the view across the land below, "Maybe this is where I am meant to be, where you want me to be. I couldn't save Ignitus, the one who believed in me more than anyone else ever did, so what chance did I have to save anything else? You sent me here, so I wouldn't make things worse, because I couldn't fix it. I couldn't save Warfang, I couldn't save my friends. That's really why, isn't it? I'm an outcast, like Malefor was…"

Never in his life had Spyro imagined that he would compare himself to Malefor in any way, except in comparison to his abilities. Never did he think that he and the fallen purple dragon would share the experience of being an outcast, whether officially ordained or not. But here he was, away from his old home, living with a species not his own, just like Malefor had with the Apes before he had become their leader and adopted the moniker of the Dark Master. Spyro didn't see himself becoming leader of the dragonflies or raising an army of them, but the comparison was closer than he wanted to admit.

The purple dragon's posture became sullen, the lingering hope that he might yet receive a reply washing away with the stream rolling over the falls in front of him. The Chronicler, if he was what he had said he was, could not have convinced him to leave behind everything he knew for any other reason. How could things not be dire enough after three years to not warrant his return? How much worse could they be than when he left? How bad did they have to be before it became the 'right time' to return? He dared not think about it. Perhaps the Chronicler had some sympathy or at least pity for Spyro, opting to send the young dragon on a wild goose chase to the far corner of the world, waiting for a summoning that would never come rather than let him die in a pointless struggle in a war he had already lost.

Perhaps he should even he grateful for being deliberately misled, ultimately saving his life and giving him the chance to experience life with a real family like he had always longed for. All he'd had to do was abandon those he'd once thought of as his family to their fates, or so he presumed. Spyro froze as the sheer coldness of the logic frightened him, yet in that moment it made more sense to him than any other reason he'd come up with to explain why he was seemingly being left to the life he had become so accustomed to. A life that none in his place would want to give up for anything, no matter how many depended on him. But he still could not help but ask the question, what had become of Cynder, Flame and Ember? Had the Chronicler lied about them too?

Spyro's gaze once more turned to the sky, the near cloudless midnight blue of the heavens brimming with stars, and then down to the moon draped horizon with its hills and seemingly endless expanse of forest and mushrooms. His eyes traced the river slithering its way off into the distance like a silvery road beckoning to be followed. Somewhere beyond that, or in any other direction that he could see, somewhere was the way back to the world he had been swept away from by an apparently omnipresent being that could force him into sleep and speak to him in his dreams. It sounded like the ramblings of a lunatic, but it was true! Out there was the answer, all he had to do was pick what direction to go.

His heart seemed to flutter at the prospect, the familiar lure of adventure made him feel light. It was a few moments before Spyro noticed how he was; looking down at himself to see he was standing stoutly with his wings stretched out behind him, hanging in anticipation of flight. He had stepped closer to the edge with his legs spaced out as if ready to pounce and let his wings take him into the air, off to find the answers to his queries. It seemed almost second nature and he had almost done it so easily. Almost.

"What am I thinking?" he muttered to himself as he stepped back from the edge, pulling his wings down almost forcefully as he swiftly turned his back on the view over the falls. For a moment he stood still, his eyes settling back on the glittering gems dangling from the mushroom towers of the dragonfly village, the homely warmth that he felt and the soothing colors mellowing the almost possessive urge to go galivanting. He looked over the scene more than a few times, finally making a short glance over his shoulder at the world beyond he had nearly taken off for.

Malefor's time had supposedly been the one that would bring the world into eternal peace and prosperity, but instead the prophesied savior had turned to darkness and only escalated the never ending cycle of wars between the Dragons their allies and the Apes. But the world had survived and adjusted through it all, just like it did with storms and floods. Even with the threat of the Dark Master's return, life had carried on for centuries, the prophecy virtually forgotten until Spyro's egg had arrived and the prospect that the prophecy would finally be fulfilled had reawakened in the minds of all the citizens of the realms. Countless others had given their lives for this belief, even though it had failed to come true the first time, sure that this was the right age this time.

"I guess prophecies get to choose what age they come true in, because it isn't this one," Spyro mused bluntly. The world had gone on through one age without a purple dragon to save it from its calamities. It would go on in this one too, perhaps the one that came after would see the purple dragon that the prophecies spoke off see it through to that golden age. Or perhaps it would just be another false hope that died in the hearts of those who suffered it. Even though he had awaited the Chronicler's summoning diligently for a time, Spyro had realized long ago the truth of it; his belief in his role of the prophecy had died in his heart three years ago, alongside Ignitus in that dark, spider infested gorge outside Warfang.

"I'm sorry, Ignitus," the young dragon muttered to himself weakly, "I know this isn't what you wanted, but I can't walk a path I don't believe in. I have to make my own path now, and it isn't back there."

Feeling saddened yet strangely relived, like losing a sick loved one but being glad their suffering was over, Spyro began walking back into the village, not casting another look at the view over the waterfall that represented the old world he had tried to forget and knew he would keep trying to. He looked up at the dangling Spirit Gems, smiling mildly in admiration as their colors mingled with the fireflies floating about the air. He centered his eyes on the grand blue gem that stood out the most, feeling glad that he had chosen so well and that the Buzzbii's liked it so much. Maybe their smiles at his deed were enough to fill the void of the supposed hero he was allegedly meant to be. Maybe that was all it had to be.

Spyro kept watching the blue Spirit Gem as he walked on by, turning and heading back towards the path that led back to the Sparx home. His smile had already faded, his unease at the visions of his nightmare still plaguing his mind. He only wondered if he would manage to get back to sleep that night. As he wandered off away from the mushroom towers with their huts and dangling gems, he had no way to know he was being watched.

Meanwhile…

Just as the Apes hadn't known that their meeting in the Council Chambers of Castle Hill had been observed through the lighting crystals above them, Spyro did not know that his entire emotional episode had been watched through the very blue Spirit Gem he had collected and admired. From inside the body of the gem watched the same pair of ancient, blue grey eyes belonging to the Chronicler, the subject of the purple dragon's emotional pleas. He had seen and heard every word of it, felt the anguish that filled his entire being and especially felt the rising anger which had been directed personally at him. He blinked slowly in his black lined eye sockets as he looked down into the scrying pool which showed him the view from the blue gem's perspective, his vision slowly turning to follow Spyro as he made his way past, eventually fading from view.

The Chronicler watched the space where he had gone for some time, barely breathing or blinking as he seemed lost in the empty vision before him. The blue crystal tied around his neck continued to shimmer with the glowing waters of the scrying pool, eventually the Chronicler mentally shifting the view of the vision out towards the place where the young dragon had been sitting before the edge of the waterfall and the great night sky that he had asked for guidance. The scene filled the entire space of the scrying pool, once again the sounds of the vision, the ambience of the night and flow of the river, were heard by the Chronicler as if he were standing their himself.

The ancient dragon drew a slow breath as he closed his eyes to rest them for some moments, reflecting on the words spoken by the young purple dragon and the alarming sentiments he had expressed. More alarming perhaps than the Chronicler had anticipated, but he had long known that this scenario was practically a foregone conclusion, particularly since the plan which he had spent countless years formulating essentially demanded it. But just as the young Spyro had doubts, so too had he as they crawled over his brain like a nest of spiders, prodding and forming webs across his conscious, asking the salient question he had asked himself over and over again,

'Was I wrong?'

For the past three years he had indeed watched in silence, not just the young purple dragon but all the happenings outside the White Isle. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, the Apes had gained ascendancy and those who resisted them did so with little to show for it other than they lived outside the rule of Gaul, an admirable act of defiance in itself. But it was no surprise to him, very little that happened was surprising to him owing to his ability to, at least partially, glimpse future events. It had been this and his constant predictions over many millennia that had led to him making the bold step to try and manipulate them where he felt it was needed. His forewarning to Ignitus about the temple raid fifteen years ago, his decision to warn Spyro about the coming strife about to enter his life and, most recently, his advice not to follow Ignitus's last wish and the purple dragon's natural instinct to rejoin his friends at the lost Dragon Temple.

The fact that his beloved companions had survived that ordeal was one of the few surprises he had endured in his many years, his predictions and glimpses of the future almost always spelling their demise that fateful day. Confident enough had he been that he had told Spyro the blanket statement that they were beyond saving, even if he knew there was a slim chance but always at the cost of his own life. This fact had caused him some disconcertion; would Spyro have survived had he not interfered? Had his decision, made with the upmost caution, been overly so?

'The fate of everything rests on him,' the Chronicler reminded himself mentally, 'The risk was too great.' But then Spyro's journey through the Ancient Grove, his survival and triumph over the monstrous wood golem, Arborick, had hardly been without danger. Spyro's arrival and acceptance into the dragonfly village had always been the Chronicler's most hopeful outcome for him, yet his faith in himself and his destiny was seemingly at an end. Should he contact him and tell him the truth, give him the answers he had demanded tonight?

"This is not the time, still?" asked the voice of another that had been watching in silence off to his side, its sound nearly startling the old grey dragon. The Chronicler opened his eyes as he turned his head slightly to his right, his eyes shifting towards the corner where the voice had come from.

"Things have not gone exactly as I had hoped," he confessed somberly to the winged silhouette standing behind to his right, "But it is still within my broad expectations."

"Broad expectations?" the figure repeated with refined cynicism, "Spyro has given up on you and himself and who could blame him? Do you really think he would wait around forever to hear from you? He needs guidance now more than ever!"

"I share your concerns, my friend," Chronicler replied modestly, "But I have explained why it is necessary for him to undergo this process. We must know who he is and where his heart lies. The mistakes made with Malefor cannot be repeated."

"By giving him less guidance?" asked his companion pointedly, "Has he not endured enough already? Has he not already been tested? It is becoming almost cruel."

The Chronicler's mouth shifted uncomfortably as he sighed tiredly, only now noticing just how exhausted he was. The points made were not without merit and he questioned them heavily as he always did. Yet once again, even without the solid confidence he once had, the ancient dragon held his course.

"It is a necessary evil. We have to be sure," he declared gravely, lowering his head as the lost vision returned to the scrying pool, the glistening river of Dragonfly Falls and the peaceful night sky beyond its borders filling in the enchanted waters before him.

"We have to be sure."

The next day…

In the deeper reaches of the swamp, the scale and diversity of the plant life was far different from the dense forest of seemingly identical rows of giant mushrooms that were so familiar to the party of young dragonflies zipping their way under the gloomy, shadowy canopy that kept the worst of the burning sun away from them. Further inland from the village, the swamp took on a different form as it progressively transformed into lush green wetlands, the flora of which all seemed to be afflicted by a profound case of gigantism. Huge bulbous plants in the shape of giant pears rose as high as the tower blocks of Warfang, massive trees wrapped in coils of vines twisted and curled like giant weeds from the boggy marsh.

Stalks of mangrove plants protruded through the water's surface like the exposed ribs of an ageing carcass, while bizarre vase shaped plants dozens of feet high shaded in orange with yellow spots, sprouted yellow leafy stalks with three pronged mouths waiting for whatever prey came within reach. Waterlilies several meters in diameter dotted the surface as the ground disappeared under the expanse of murky water that seemed to go on forever as the glittering wings of the train of dragonflies zipped across them like a floating walkway, with the largest and purpliest member of the group bringing up the rear.

Spyro had not slept well, though it was surprising he had slept at all after the horrific nightmare that had triggered his midnight stroll into the village and all the buried thoughts and emotions that had come flooding back. It had been to his surprising fortune that it was almost mid-morning when he had finally awoken, apparently having been allowed to sleep in. He usually woke up around sunrise alongside Sparx and Flash and Nina, and on the occasions when he did not, Sparx was always quick to give me a rude awakening with whatever means took his fancy. Whether that was yelling in his ear, slamming into his stomach or tickling his nose with the end of a fern, Spyro had rarely been allowed to sleep longer than his glittering yellow foster brother. When he had finally lifted himself from bed and stretched his legs and wings, Sparx had seemingly appeared from nowhere, as though he had been waiting for him.

"Finally up then, lazy bones?" he had teased him with his smug grin.

"Did I miss breakfast?" had been Spyro's first, drowsy question.

"Sure did," he grinned, "Don't worry, I saved you a few butterflies since I know how much you love them."

"I think I'll pass, thanks," Spyro had replied sarcastically, only noticing then that it was just he and the yellow dragonfly, "Where's Mum and Dad?"

"In the village, which is where we don't need to be," he answered dismissively, "Come on, Spyro, the others are waiting on us," Sparx had told him before abruptly making to leave.

"Wait, what do you mean? What others?" the young dragon had asked in confusion, partly due to how sleepy he still felt.

"Amber and the rest of them!" he had replied impatiently, "Come on, we're wasting daylight!"

"What for? Can't I eat something first? And what about our chores?"

"We took care of them, don't worry," Sparx had told him as he seemed eager to go, "Jeez, Spyro, anyone'd think you were been asked to save the world or something."

For a moment Spyro had sat there, one eyebrow raised in curious bewilderment as he watched Sparx take off towards the undergrowth before he stopped on its edge and waited for him to follow, the purple dragon not letting himself think about how ironic his remarks had been. After another stretch, he picked himself up and took off after his foster brother, drowsy and confused. He sensed that there was more than what he was being told, but he assumed it was nothing more than the usual antics that Sparx was well known for. After a short time of passing through the undergrowth that curiously was well clear of the dragonfly village, they had met up with the other dragonflies his age and was informed they were to set off on an apparently preplanned and completely authorized day of carefree leisure far away from the prying eyes of the adults. At least they assured him it was authorized.

"You sure Red is okay with this?" Spyro had asked Amber doubtfully, thinking she was the one most likely to tell the truth.

"Sure, Spyro," she assured him with a gentle wave of her hand, "He said he didn't want to see any of us dumbheads' in the village until sunset. You know, because of the trouble you caused yesterday."

But the purple dragon's keen eye for body language hadn't diminished in the three years he had gone without the regular training he had once received in his old life. He turned his head suspiciously.

"Maybe I should go back and ask first…" he said in order to bait them, turning like he was about to go back when Sparx had suddenly appeared in front of his face with his hands outstretched to stop him.

"Wait!" he cried, "Come on, Spyro, don't be a nark! We're all pals here, would we lie to you?"

Spyro had not been convinced, staring around at the circle of dragonflies that seemed to have the same forced look of acting as if there was nothing wrong, like they were keeping something from him. Nonetheless, doubting it was anything life-threatening, he had pretended to be put at ease.

"Okay, then," he had shrugged, "Let's go!"

A while later, now he was following the trail of the other young dragonflies as they raced through the wetlands that continued well on from the area where Spyro had chased Sparx in their game of hide and seek the day before. They were headed to a place they had been before and had become a favorite of the adolescents during the hotter days like today, a place that Sparx had apparently discovered during another one of his mindless butterfly pursuits like the one that had led him into the Ancient Grove where he and Spyro had found each other. Fortunately, there were no monsters that they knew of anywhere near this hidden prize.

"Oh boy, it's just up ahead!" Sparx cried excitedly from the front of the group as they raced under and through gaps in the dying husk of a colossal tree, sprouting like an island amid the water, Spyro nervously holding his breath as he saw the tight squeeze, even though he had flown through it many times before. The colorful parade shot through, Spyro following in from behind as he pulled in his limbs and spun as he passed through, his wings tucking in before spreading out as he came out the other side, streamlining and momentum keeping him going while his wings were folded.

'One day I'm not going to make it through there!' he thought nervously.

Just ahead was the edge of the water, a wall of dirt rising several feet above the waterline as a dense forest of massive trees and huge green headed mushrooms lay ahead. Sparx led the group as they rose gracefully to pass over the wall of earth and flew on into the forest. The ground was moist and rocky as it rose up an incline, covered by moss and more oddly colored and shaped plants, but the anticipation in the group could be felt in the air as they flew above the contours of the hill until they reached the top. As they did, the ground levelled out and the overhead canopy became less dense, allowing great spreads of natural sunlight to shine through and erase much of the gloominess of the whole environment.

Through the trees was the roar of rushing water from up ahead, and soon enough they arrived at its source. Spyro pulled his wings back and landed with a soft thud on the dirt behind the others as they gathered by the source of the excitement. Up to the right of them, a colossal tree hollow that had fallen long ago lay right in the path of a fast-flowing river, its last quarter hanging over the edge with water pouring from its end like a pipe in froths of foamy white. The river washed down a series of sloping bumps like a giant rock staircase before it channeled through the hollow and onto the step before them, flowing on a short distance before it met another drop, one which looked from where they stood to drop off into oblivion. On both sides of the drop were two tall rows of five, white mushrooms covered in green spots, slightly bent over towards each other, forming a sort of archway. They were much skinnier and shorter than those closer to home and marked the beginning of the drop down like the beacons of a sports trial, which to those assembled is what it was.

"Alright," Sparx announced readily as turned around to the group and rubbed his hands together eagerly "Ready to give the old Sparx Speedway a run?"

"You know you're the only one here who calls it that, right?" asked Talia, the blue she-dragonfly with a humorous smile.

"Hey, I discovered it, so I get to name it!" he retorted smugly as he pretended to be looking at his fingernails, "Nobody ever remembers the person who got there second."

"Are you going to brag or are we going to ride some rapids?" demanded a male voice from within the group.

"Yeah," Spyro joined in jeeringly, "Quit stalling us, Sparx!"

The yellow dragonfly groaned mockingly as he rolled his eyes as his arms folded across his chest, "Geez louise! The ingratitude of some people I swear…"

Presently, Spyro, Sparx and the other dragonflies were assembled on the next ledge up beside the collapsed log, the top half of which was completely exposed as the water rushed through it like a tunnel before pouring down onto the next step before the big drop. In the hands of each of the dragonflies were the heads of smaller mushrooms that they had removed the stalks from, using the round heads as rafts for the ride down the rapids. They were light enough to carry, buoyant enough to float, and large enough for each dragonfly to lay across on their stomachs with their arms able to grab hold of the edge for dear life. They had collected these from a ready stockpile they had left beside the river for their return visits, naturally Spyro could not use the tiny mushrooms for himself, having his own pile of larger mushroom heads to accommodate his increasing size. He would now only just fit into the tree tunnel that was their starting point.

"Okay, we all ready?" Sparx shouted as he lifted his raft above his head to the others.

A cheer of 'Yes!' and variations thereof sounded off in response, the dragonflies carrying their rafts as they followed him onto the log, Spyro at the rear as he pushed his large mushroom raft with his horns towards the jumping off point.

"Remember, Spyro, you got give us a five second head start so you don't crush us on the way down!" Sparx reminded him pointedly.

"Yeah, I remember," he replied irritably, pushing his raft into place onto the log behind the others as they hovered by the edge of the broken hollow. Another cheer went up as Sparx took the first plunge, followed closely by Amber, Talia and then the others as they stopped their wings flapping and threw themselves onto their rafts as they splashed down onto the raging torrent. Spyro pushed his raft closer as he watched them go, the swarm of dragonflies bunching close together as they were swept off the end of the hollow as each splashed onto the lower step, headed right for the archway of mushrooms that marked the big drop.

"Five!" Spyro announced, aloud, "Four! Three! Two!" he pushed himself onto his raft, flaying flat with just his back left foot to send him away, "One! Here I come!"

With the push of his foot, his slid forward and clutched hard to his raft, making the short drop into the hollow waterslide with a splash of his own, spraying him as the large mushroom raft bobbed in the torrent, carrying him quickly towards the next drop. He heard the wails and ecstatic cheers of his companions as they dropped down out of sight, the purple dragon grinning with excitement as he swept off the end of the hollow, splashing down onto the step with the mushroom archway drawing nearer ever so quickly and the big drop below. His heart was racing and his stomach lifted itself in preparation for the coming lurch. The water pushed him on through until the archway passed overhead and Spyro could soon not see where the water went in front of him.

"Here we go!"

The front of the raft dipped forward, the purple dragon clutching down hard as the drop swept under him. He received another splash to the face as the raft bobbed in the speeding torrent, picking up momentum as the river entered a steep slide, flanked by high walls of plants and rock like a canyon. Spyro pulled the front of the raft towards him to keep himself from being thrown forward, the wind rushing by him as he sped down the watery slope. He saw the glittering colors of his dragonfly companions far ahead as they were jostled around the falling rapids, their excited screams echoing up to him.

"CAWABUNGA!" he heard Sparx shouting as they passed around and between two spire like rocks pointing out of the water, the river making an 'S' shaped slither just past them beneath the high walls of rock, Spyro tucking his wings in behind him as he shot between the spires, trying to streamline for more speed as the dragonflies swept around the bend. Approaching fast, Spyro leaned on his right side, putting out his right wing to slow for the bend, but all it did was spin him around as he finally reached it, wailing in alarm as the water sloshed against the wall and bumped him into it with a hard thud, but he kept his hold as the torrent pushed him and the raft onwards through the winding path.

The river widened into a great circle and levelled out as he bought his spin under control, Spyro spreading his wings out and finally pointing himself in the right direction as the river rumbled on. In the middle of the circle was an island of twisting roots rising into the air like a corkscrew, a narrow gap existing right beneath it that was surely too low for him, but the sight of Sparx racing beneath it easily was enough to want to make him try. He pushed himself flat against the raft, sucking in his breath as the torrent steered him right for it, Spyro bravely keeping his eyes open as he turned his head to keep his horns down, the low archway of roots passing within an eyelash's distance of his head, just before the sun appeared again as he sped through the other side, his heart starting up again!

Spyro stood up and laughed at his success, grinning confidently as the river picked up speed again as it narrowed after the wide circle and entered a series of short dips and climbs one after the other, the raft hitting the bottom of each with more splashes as he laughed them off. The river went out to the right in another bend before curving back to the left, passing under another colossal tree that had collapsed into the canyon, the monstrously oversized plants atop the canyon making Spyro feel like an ant riding down what to the giant plants must have seemed but a trickle rather than a raging river.

Looking ahead, he saw the colorful dragonflies riding the waters, spinning, laughing and cheering, and he was catching up! A lip approached in the river, the dragonflies bobbing over the top as Spyro braced for an opportunity he did not want to miss. As his raft met the lip, he opened his wings for only a second, the speed and lift of his momentum making him jump over the lip, catching air as he landed back down with a victorious splash and a walloping cheer.

"Wa-ha-ha-ha-ho!"

The high walls of the canyon lost much of their height as Spyro banked his raft through another winding 'S', Sparx and the others now not far ahead. The river narrowed once again and carried on straight as great dome like mushrooms lined the shore for much of the way down before coming to another right-hand turn. The water sloshed against the wall of the bend, taking the little flotilla of rafts with their screaming dragonfly passengers around with it as Spyro spread his wings out and banked right, skimming the bend on the rising current and swiping the water with a deliberate flick of his tail. He chuckled as he stood ready and eyed what was ahead, the dragonflies bobbing and weaving in their tiny rafts to the contours and will of the water whereas he was somewhat in control. Somewhat.

The water darkened as the river flowed into a flooded cavern, the sun disappearing as Spyro and the dragonflies were swept on into the dark, the high rock ceiling only visible by the clusters of pale blue gems spread above them. In the pale illumination, Spyro's companions glowed like a slithering rainbow as they picked up speed, shrieking and screaming in half joy, half terror as they all caught air, shooting off the edge of a short fall before landing lightly on the next track of rapids before he came down behind and skimmed the water like a thrown pebble. Spyro shot ahead like he was being pushed, passing Amber, Talia and a few other dragonflies as the cavern walls echoed with the roar of another series of falls up ahead.

Sparx was still at the lead of the others as the ceiling dipped and then they fell out of view for a moment as the river flow fell into a slide as Spyro clung hard to his raft, hitting the bottom of the slide with a splash as a beam of sunlight lit up ahead. The cavern widened as the ceiling rose up to a rough cone like shape, a shimmering beacon of yellow light streaked down from an opening in the rock as the mouth of another cave waited on the other side. Spyro ducked down as he sailed on through the open mouth, a source of light ahead reflecting off the water and ceiling as he braced for what he knew was coming next.

"You won't catch me this time, purple boy!" Sparx called out from in front just as the literal light at the end of the tunnel came into view, beyond another downward slalom of step like dips that the water foamed and rolled over in a cascading torrent that could seemingly swallow anything in its path. But such a petty thought would not stop Spyro from being first. He zoomed off the edge with a playful grin, wings straight back behind him as he skipped off the first step and onto the second, passing the dragonflies behind Sparx as he bounced across the slalom, right, left, skipping back across as he surfed the last step, flying off the last step and onto the rapids as the near blinding light showed the way out. His greater mass, aided by the current, launched him out of the cavern and back into the sunlight, flanked on both sides by the dense, green vegetation they had passed by on the way to the pompously named 'Sparx Speedway.'

"Dragon incoming!" Spyro shouted as he shot past the golden dragonfly while he was looking ahead in expected victory, his eyes bulging as his face contorted in disbelief as the purple dragon past him by.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed as he was drenched by Spyro's wake, the purple dragon sweeping around the slight left-hand curve as the current headed towards another, final drop.

"Yeah-ha-ha!" came Spyro's victorious cry, his raft speeding right down the center of the current towards the finish line over the next waterfall! Beyond the fall he saw the waters of a lake, the sunlight beaming across like a submerged lantern as he braced, hunched down, and then leapt from the raft as it fell over the falls, Spyro spinning himself in a righthand barrel roll as he wooed and cheered as he let himself fall through the air, grinning widely as he hit the water headfirst while spinning, his tail whipping the surface as he dove under, his raft splashing down in the water off to the side.

Sparx came over the fall's moments later, still screaming in exhilaration as he clung to his raft as it plummeted and slammed hard onto the churning surface of the lake, panting hard as he wobbled on the floating mushroom. A chorus of screams followed just after as the other dragonflies fell like colorful lanterns over the falls, plopping into the water after Sparx. The mushroom rafts floated away from the churning waters below the falls as the excited laughs and cheers continued, save for Sparx who sat in his raft with his arms and eyebrows crossed moodily.

"Wicked!" shouted one of the group.

"That was awesome!" sang Talia as she and Amber's rafts bumped into each other as the laughter of the dragonflies filled the air as they floated together on their mushroom rafts, reeling from all the excitement. They floated in a loose group towards the calmer, clearer waters further into the lake, its flat surface broken up by several enormous, multilimbed trees and towering white mushroom stalks rising out of the water. It was not until several moments later that Amber noticed the single large mushroom head floating on the surface with no occupant nor any sign of him.

"Wait, where's Spyro?" she asked suddenly. Sparx had only just lifted his head to take notice that his foster brother was missing, when he suddenly felt his raft lurch from beneath him, a pair of claws reaching from behind as the golden dragonfly bounded into the air with a terrified scream as something attacked him from below!

"MUMMY!" he shrieked, seeking protection amidst the other dragonflies as his raft was capsized and shoved aside as the lake monster breached the surface, its shiny array of white teeth displaying a fearsome grin as its whole body surfaced, roaring with laughter. Spyro shook the water off his head as he caught his breath between bouts of laughter, the other dragonflies reeling in the embarrassment that Sparx was suffering as he fluttered above the surface with an awkward expression, teeth clenched and one eye twitching as if his sanity was on its last legs.

"Got you, Sparx!" he chuckled heartily, paddling gently in the water as he glanced across the multiple pairs of eyes and grateful smiles that he had beaten the self-proclaimed champion of the self-named-after water rapids of 'Sparx Speedway'.

"Mummy?! Did you really say that?" asked Amber incredulously as Sparx blushed like mad, his whole body twitching from the sheer amount of embarrassment he was being forced to endure. Seeing his suffering, Spyro opted to show his foster brother a sliver of mercy.

"Well," he said with a tilt of his head as he paddled around to join the other dragonflies, "It was pretty close. You were ahead all the way, Sparx. Well, nearly all the way…"

Sparx seemed to make himself stop twitching with some great difficulty, making several bizarre and at times frightening faces in the process before he calmly put his hands on his chest and drew a deep breath as the last twitch he had showed its way out of his right eye. The laughing and teasing damped down as Sparx, face as calm as a still day, floated gently up to Spyro.

"My congratulations to you, my humble opponent," he said formally, calmly, placing a hand across his chest, "I who have been bested by you, bow my head in noble defeat," he said as he let his arms flow out as he bowed to the victorious purple dragon, whose eyebrows were raised quizzically as he looked about the faces of the others.

"What chance have I," Sparx continued, "When faced by an opponent so skilled and daring and… OH MY GOD ITS ARBORIK!"

"What? Where?" Spyro exclaimed, immediately spinning himself around towards the waterfall where Sparx had pointed, the other dragonflies spinning with him. As they looked up to see nothing, a quick splash sounded behind followed by a laugh as Sparx suddenly flew over top of the startled group, holding his mushroom head raft in his hands as he took off.

"Psych!" he boasted as he soared away, "He's termite food, remember? Let's see you try and beat me again!"

"Hey! No fair!" Spyro called out as he hurriedly paddled towards his discarded raft, his soaking wings struggling to find lift as he tried pulling himself back onto it as Sparx vanished from view on his way back to the top.

"I knew something was up!" Talia shook her head as some of the other dragonflies prepared to fly their rafts back up for their second run. Spyro finally managed to clamber back on the upended mushroom, rocking unsteadily before thrashing the water off his wings before he grabbed hold of it in his paws and took off into the air after his foster brother. His ascent was followed by the cheers of the dragonflies who opted to follow him to be part of the second run down the rapids. As the rowdy bunch soared away, Amber and Talia remained with a handful of others to enjoy the sudden tranquility. The blue she-dragonfly sighed as she laid back on her floating mushroom, letting the tips of her fingers skim the water as Amber stretched out her arms and lay on her stomach, her wings giving a short flutter as she mused,

"How does he put up with him?"

"Who?" asked Talia.

"Spyro. How does he put up with Sparx?"

"How do we put up with him?" Talia asked humorously.

The newfound peace of the lake was broken again a few minutes later as the approaching cheers and screams of excitement echoed over the falls, the dragonflies below watching as the second rapid run of the day reached its conclusion. The yellow glow of Sparx was seen first just as Spyro's larger form was seen swooping in from his side, the pair cresting the falls at nearly the same time, Sparx falling a moment sooner but Spyro's heavier weight coming down faster as they both fell with their rafts and struck the lake with seemingly synchronized splashes. Sparx was drenched by the larger raft, and for the observers afar it was hard to tell who had come first.

"Ha ha! Nice try!" Sparx boasted even as he wiped the water from his face, "First place goes to Sparx!"

"What? No way!" Spyro retorted, "I hit the water first!"

"No way!" Sparx growled.

"Yes way!"

"No chance!"

"Every chance I get!"

The back and forth continued even as the other dragonflies came flying over the falls, their rafts falling into the water behind them as the bickering went on. Inevitably, a rematch was decided upon and once more Spyro and Sparx returned to the top of the rapids for another race. Another few minutes later, they came soaring over the falls again, this time the winner was not in dispute. Sparx flew over the cascading waters with a triumphant yell, his arms raised in celebration that his victory was undeniable. A few moments later, a large upended mushroom fell from the top of the waterfall with no occupant, raising concerns among the watching dragonflies until a few moments later when Spyro, carried by the current, came into view.

His face heavy with indignation, the purple dragon allowed himself to almost limply roll over the falls before he dove headfirst into the water and disappeared. In his desperate haste to win, he had been thrown off his raft during the last slalom, allowing Sparx to race ahead and claim undisputed victory. He resurfaced just as he ran out of breath, groaning irritably at Sparx's smugness.

"And that," declared the golden dragonfly, "Is why I'm the king of Sparx Speedway!"

Spyro eyed him sourly as he floated on the surface, but try as he might he could not avoid the humor of the moment, especially as his eyes moved across the rest of the lake to the other young dragonflies frolicking in its waters. Some left their rafts behind and fluttered playfully above the surface, around the protruding trees and mushrooms while others paddled about on their rafts or relaxed and let the water take them where it pleased. The hot sun glimmered across the surface as he looked up at it and realized how long they had still until sunset, and they had nothing to do but enjoy it all.

"Sure, Sparx," Spyro agreed with a chuckle and smile as he looked back over to him, "You're the king…"

"Woo!" Sparx cheered, bouncing into the air from his raft and spinning himself in circles as he held up his arms, "I'm the king, baby!"

"Of annoying pests that is…" Spyro muttered slyly to himself.

The sun continued its gradual descent towards the horizon with nary a thought paid to it as the young dragon and dragonflies enjoyed the watery playground to its fullest. Spyro, Sparx and the other dragonflies had raced each other again and again throughout the afternoon, but eventually they had stopped tallying who had won as the sheer fun of it drowned out all other concerns. Another game that was played involved having a vine tied to Spyro's tail spike like a rope with the rest tied around one of the upended mushroom heads.

Each of the dragonflies then took turns to be pulled around the lake at high speed as Spyro flew above the water's surface, his wings sweeping across the lake as his passenger held on as long as they could while he soared and banked around the tress and mushrooms, having to stay low to the water less he risk pulling the raft off the water and into the air, which happened more than once and sometimes not by accident, usually when Sparx was the passenger. At some point in the afternoon, his heart happy and his body exhausted, Spyro had simply flopped himself on his belly across his mushroom raft and baked in the sun, his wings stretched out and their tips dangling in the water as he dozed on and off, floating about the lake aimlessly. Occasionally the fun and games of the others had disturbed him, but he was only mildly perturbed as he relaxed to the rhythm of the waterfall and his calm heartbeat.

"Spyro? Spyro!"

He opened his eyes suddenly as he saw Sparx's reflection on the water, lazily lifting his head as he only then realized how much darker it was now. He had dozed for longer than he thought as the sun had lowered below the tops of the trees and mushrooms, the lake bathed in a dark shadow.

"Sparx?" he asked groggily, "How late is it?"

"Late enough," he answered simply, "Come on, we hafta to get home," he said as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. Spyro looked around and saw he had drifted quite some way from the waterfall, which was only barely in view as he yawned and stretched himself on the raft. He saw the multiple colors of the other dragonflies hovering by it as they waited for him.

"Sorry," Spyro said as he carefully pushed himself up into a sit, "I dozed off."

After dipping his head in the water to liven himself up, he picked his mushroom raft out of the water and carried it through the air over to the falls where the others were waiting with their own. They had then flown back to the beginning of the rapids and left them piled up next to the river for the next time whenever they came. The sky was a layered in a blanket of dark purple, pink and orange as the sun set over the horizon as Spyro was the last to place his larger raft down with the others, looking up at the sky and remarking, "It's going to be dark by the time we get back. I hope Mum and Dad won't be mad."

"Oh, don't worry," Sparx assured him confidently, "I'm sure we'll be back right on time."

Spyro raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" he asked, detecting something in his voice.

"Oh," Sparx replied with a light shrug, "Nothing."

Just as before, Spyro was not convinced as he looked about the hovering faces, but also just as before, he did not question it. He didn't see what harm it could bring.

"Let's get back then," he declared finally.

With the sun almost set, the purple dragon and the group of dragonflies did not return the same way they had come, instead flying above swamp as the wetlands they had crossed were densely dark at night as they were almost totally without the homely mushrooms that radiated lavender at night, providing some illumination. The last rays of the sun swept across the canopy of colossal trees as the band of friends skimmed the top of it on their way home. A few early stars had begun to sparkle in the twilight, the Celestial Moons soon to dominate the coming night.

As they flew on, the dense green landscape below began to give way to the rolling hills of mushroom forest, the transition between the two landscapes was almost comically jarring as the high treetops suddenly gave way to the low mushrooms, making it seem they were flying far higher than needed all at once. On simple habit, Spyro entered a dive to drop his altitude, swooping down before the others as he levelled out above the mushroom canopy, expecting the others to follow. They soon did, their glittering bodies catching up to him as he heard a voice call out,

"Hey, Spyro!"

He turned to look to his right, but Sparx was already flying up beside him, seemingly trying to overtake him as he said, "Hey, why don't we go this way? You know, come right into the village over the waterfall?"

"Why? Straight ahead is faster," Spyro replied pointedly.

"Where's the drama in that? Come on, purple boy, live a little!" he declared, just as he soared ahead of the purple dragon and banked sharply off to the right.

"What are you talking about?" Spyro demanded, just as the other dragonflies either swept around him and apparently made to follow Sparx, laughing and shouting as they did, which puzzled him even more as Talia and Ember waved at him to follow.

"Since when have they listened to Sparx so much?" he asked himself queerly, but with the others getting away from him, Spyro sighed as he banked around and made to follow them, sure they would all get a grilling from the adults as soon as they finally returned.

'We probably weren't even allowed to go after all!' he thought bitterly, rolling his eyes with a groan, 'If we hadn't had so much fun, I might feel a lot worse about it!'

Spyro caught up with the dragonflies as he formed up at the rear of the group, Sparx leading them on as he looked behind to see the purple dragon trailing them, a bright grin stretching across his face as all the other dragonflies seemed to be smiling with the privilege of forbidden knowledge.

"Okay, what's going on?" Spyro finally asked firmly, "Something weird is going on and I know you're not telling me!"

"A little paranoid, aren't you, Spyro?" Amber suggested lightly.

"I'm serious! What's the big idea?"

"The only big thing is your head!" one of the male dragonflies of the group chimed in, the whole group erupting in chuckles except for whom the big head referred to. Spyro was profoundly unamused.

"Come on, that's what today was all about, right? Somebody want to tell me what's going on?!"

"You know what?" Sparx announced from the front, "You're right, Spyro; there is something going on."

"I knew it…" the young dragon grumbled.

"And we'll tell you all about it… if you can catch us!" Sparx exclaimed excitedly, surging ahead as the other dragonflies took off like a swarm of started birds, following his golden trail and leaving behind the dumbfounded purple dragon.

"Oh for the love of…" he complained irritably, beating his wings harder as he strove to catch up to the fleeing mass of multi-colored orbs that flew ahead of him as the last of the sun's rays settled below the horizon. What kind of trap had Sparx rallied the others to lure him into? He knew he would soon find out.

'Not if I get there first!' Spyro thought devilishly, redoubling his efforts as he pumped his wings furiously, making short upward bounds like he was riding a wave, gaining extra height without slowing himself down too much, planning on using a height advantage to put himself in a dive that would give him the extra speed to beat the laughing dragonflies to the edge of Dragonfly Falls which he knew was ahead. The hills and plateaus of the mushroom forest rose and fell as they swept beneath him in a blur, the glistening river that snaked far below the high drop of Dragonfly Falls came into view and shone in his eyes, streaking off into the distance. He was gaining even as he climbed, seeing the group of dragonflies beginning to descend as they aimed for the waterfall at the end of the dragonfly village on the edge of the plateau.

Spyro knew it was time, smirking confidently as he seemed to jump in the air, his wings folding over on his back as he streamlined himself and dipped his head, his body greasing through the air as he entered a downward arch and began his decent. The wind rushed by as his eyes became focused like a hawk, eyeing the golden head of the dragonfly cluster and aiming for him, his only thought to overtake before he could spring whatever prank they had planned for him. His vision became tunnel like as the watery edge of the village appeared, he and the others approaching from on high to its right, the spot where Spyro had contemplated his troubling nightmares and memories the night before.

He streaked on by the gang of dragonflies from the left of them, their surprised squeals and exclaims filling his ears as he seemed poised to crash right across the river, the purple dragon opening his wings as late as he dared, fanning them out as he swept up and to a stop like he was pulled back by invisible chains, held in the air for a moment before he dropped himself down decisively onto the rock before the falls. His heart felt ten feet ahead of his chest as he lifted his head and looked towards the sky beyond the waterfall as he drew in a sharp breath, his teeth baring a smug grin as he eyed the dragonflies swooping down from above, Sparx still at their lead. They all came to a stop some distance from him as Spyro reveled in their apparent dumbfounded surprise.

"What do you think of that?" he boasted cockily, "So what was the game, huh? What were you trying to lure me into?"

The expected annoyance at him beating the tricksters didn't come, as Sparx smiled with some great humor as he clapped his hand over his face, the other dragonflies seemingly just as amused.

"You know, Spyro, maybe you should try looking at the bigger things rather than overthinking the little things."

Spyro was confused, "What are you talking about?" he demanded. The yellow dragonfly snickered as his eyes lifted and looked somewhere behind the purple dragon, as did the eyes of Talia, Amber and the others. Spyro's eyes turned before his head, following them around to the right as he slowly turned his body with it, looking towards the village.

"SURPRISE!"

Spyro flinched as he looked across a sea of smiling faces, faces all turned towards him, arms raised in celebration and cheers. The whole dragonfly village, in a mass of glittering colors of all kinds, was amassed before him with Flash and Nina at the forefront, fluttering towards him. He gazed across them like a stunned bird that had just gotten up from a crash, his tongue dead in his mouth.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Nina greeted ever so dotingly with Flash close to her side, her tiny hand caressing the right side of his snout as she kissed him between his nostrils, the touch knocking him out of his state of stupor as his eyes shot between those of his adoptive parents.

"Mum? Dad? What's going on…?"

"It's alright, son," Flash assured him warmly with a gentle rub on his snout, "You're right on time!"

"Time?" Spyro repeated cluelessly as Sparx and the rest of the younger dragonflies closed in behind him.

"Has the penny dropped yet?" he asked as he hovered in beside Nina, who took the chance to sneak in a kiss on her son's cheek, making his face turn blood red as he blushed amid a chorus of jeering laughs from his younger companions.

"What's going on?" Spyro continued to ask earnestly, "What's this all about?"

"YOU, knucklehead!" came the voice of Amber in reply, the orange-she dragonfly appearing behind Flash and Nina who quickly parted ways to let her through. Behind her came a party of six other she-dragonfly's, carrying between them a large wreath of yellow and purple flowers, the edges of their petals colored orange like the lining of a fine garment. Spyro sat as they hovered over top and dropped the wreath over his horns until it fell around his neck, the purple dragon lifting his paw to touch it as he smiled.

"Me? But I…"

Before he could continue, he eyed the crimson form of 'Red' Firmin fluttering his way through the crowd. He stopped a little way from him as the two met each other's gaze, the red dragonfly's hard face wore a mask of barely held interest. But the longer he watched, Spyro saw the mask slip away as Red waved him onward,

"Come on, then," he said flatly, "Everyone wants you to see all the work they put in."

Spyro saw the edge of his mouth lift into a faint half smile as he turned around, Amber rushing up to her father's side as the rest of the dragonflies ushered him on as the purple dragon stood up to follow the crowd towards the village. Spyro was surrounded back and front by dragonflies as those in front amassed like a hovering curtain to hide whatever the work was Red had described, waiting to reveal it to him. He walked a few steps across the shallow pond as they approached the village center, glimpsing sparkles of light through the crowd. As the crowd stopped, so did he, Flash and Nina fluttering up next to him as the other dragonflies all beamed back at Spyro with grins of anticipation. Sparx appeared to the right of his face, tapping him behind his horn as he said,

"Check it out, man!"

With that, the dragonflies fluttered away in two groups like both sides of a curtain, Spyro froze as his mouth dropped open in a gasp as his rich amethyst eyes swelled with everything that they saw. The mushroom towers of Dragonfly Falls stood where they had always been, only now with a completely different assortment of decorations. The usual Spirit Gems ornaments were mostly gone, replaced by a hanging series of letters, made from severed swamp roots that had been fashioned together with bindings of vines to form the shape of specific letters. They swung close together and spelt an unmistakable name; SPYRO.

"What?" the dragon of the same name asked incredulously, looking on at the edifice of his name which sparkled with specks of Spirit Gems that had been, through one way or another, applied to the letters that dangled from the towers. Each letter was its own color; S was blue, P was green, Y was pink, R was red and O was green again. But that was not the end of it, more Spirt Gems had been hung all across the village, string lines of them made from vines were tied all around the top of the walls of earth and roots that surrounded the village, glowing like lanterns and swirling around every mushroom stalk that any dragonfly huts were attached to. At the base of the central cluster of mushroom towers, stretched a long and very low table that resembled a wooden pier had been erected in the shallow water.

The table was made from sticks and smallish logs, the legs set hard into the muddy water to hold up the frame of tied sticks that rolled across the top to form the table surface. On the left end of the table was an upturned mushroom head not unlike what Spyro had been surfing down the rapids that day, and presumably meant for him. All along the table were small woven baskets and bowls made from clay, those closest to the left were larger and filled with fruits and fish, Spyro's preferred foods, while the other smaller bowls were filled with the dragonfly delicacies of mosquitos, tadpoles and butterflies, garnished with herbs collected from various plants.

As Spyro looked at all this in happy surprise, Sparx hovered over in front of him with an apologetic grin and shrug, "We had to keep you away until it was all done. Almost figured it out, huh?"

"I knew something was up," Spyro stated with a short chuckle, "I just never imagined that…" he paused as he looked around at the numerous faces all focused on him, the purple dragon's voice turning brittle as he asked again, "But why for me?"

"It's been three years!" exclaimed Amber from the crowd as she fluttered forward, "Three years since you came to live with us!"

"That's right," nodded Flash as he and Nina put their hands on each other's shoulders, "And we thought we should do something to celebrate. Celebrate the three years you have been part of our community and our family."

Spyro was blushing, smiling with embarrassment as the rest of the dragonflies offered their nods and verbal affirmation to what had just been said. He wobbled his head around as he tried to avoid making eye contact.

"I…I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything," came a curt response from Red, who hovered up beside Amber and gently took her am, smiling to her only momentarily before he looked back to the rest of the gathering with his usual gruff act, "Come on, then! This food isn't going to eat itself!"

As expected, Spyro was seated at the left end of the table on the large mushroom head, propped up with rocks so that it neither floated away or became unsteady while he sat. Flash, Nina and Sparx remained closest to him at his end of the table as they and the other dragonflies gathered around with their bowls made from the hard shells of cracked nuts or molded clay. Naturally, Spyro's bowl was much larger and also made of clay, the first one he had was made by Flash and Nina in the first week of him living in the swamp, but he had eventually decided to make his own, often using a touch of his Ice breath to help harden the clay as he molded it. He had used some retained knowledge from watching the Cheetahs and Moles when they made their own pottery and bowls, though he didn't bother with any kind of ornamentation.

The whole village settled down to eat, the reveling atmosphere brighter than usual, and Spyro the guest of honor. His meal was prepared for him, the fish selected was skewered on a long-sharpened stick and then placed on two mounts on the end of the table in front of him so that he could employ his Fire breath to cook it as he liked. He had often so the same for himself in the past, but tonight not a finger of his was lifted unnecessarily.

"You really didn't have to do this," he said to his foster parents and brother sheepishly.

"Sure we did, bro," Sparx answered readily, "This is your night!"

"In truth, it wasn't all our idea," confessed Nina sweetly, "Amber was the one who really pushed for it."

"Really?" Spyro asked in surprise, looking across the other end of the table towards the orange she-dragonfly as she remained close by her father, briefly catching her eye as if she had heard him.

"That's right, son," Flash nodded as he too looked down the table, "I doubt Firmin would have allowed all this to happen otherwise."

Spyro chuckled grimly, "I was just about to ask."

The feast carried on as the assembled dragonflies ate and socialized merrily, especially Sparx and the younger dragonflies as they retold the exploits of the day, with Spyro quick to correct his foster brother each time he tried to boast about how many times he had won the races down the rapids. Sparx was equally quick to point out all the races Spyro had not witnessed as he dozed lazily in the sun that later afternoon, a point the purple dragon had conceded, though he still held doubt of Sparx's claimed eighteen unbroken victories.

"You didn't win half that many times!" a dissenting voice came from down the table.

"Sure I did, you just can't keep count!" Sparx retorted. Flash and Nina only smiled and shook their heads at their son's bold insistence, to which Spyro only shrugged humorously.

An hour or so later, when everyone to seemed had eaten their fill, Red Firmin suddenly hovered above everyone else from the end of the table and put his hands up,

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

It was more a demand than a request. All eyes turned to the crimson dragonfly as all conversations were put on hold, Red fluttering up from the end of the table and making his way along it until he hovered in the middle of the gathering. He glanced around for a moment, locked eyes with Spyro, before looking away again and clearing his throat.

"As you all know," he began slowly, "For the past few weeks we have been making preparations for tonight and… well, first off, I want to thank everyone here for the all the hard work and effort that you have put in. I'll even swallow my pride and give a thanks to young Sparx," he said as he gestured his hand out towards him, "Who for once was able to keep his mouth shut and keep a secret!"

There were a few laughs from the gathering, with Sparx taking the pseudo compliment by putting on a smug expression as he bowed in sarcastic gratitude. Spyro could not help but be one of those who laughed.

"Of course," Red continued, "I have to also thank my daughter, Amber, whose ridged persistence finally convinced me to go along with all this. For tonight, we dedicate to a certain member of our community. In case you've forgotten, that his name up there," he said as he jabbed his thumb towards the letters dangling above them, earning a few short laughs.

"Three years ago, Spyro came to us in the middle of the night, having been fortunate enough to meet young Sparx and brought back to us here. I need not tell you I was not altogether pleased when I found out we had a stranger from a distant land in our stead, but nonetheless, I gave him the chance to prove his trustworthiness. I was not the only one to have reservations about having him here, but I admit mine were the strongest of us all."

He paused for a moment as he let his words be digested, Spyro looking between Flash, Nina and Sparx who all pitched in their supportive glances, Nina reaching over and touching Spyro's shoulder as Firmin continued.

"We have lived here all our lives, as did our fathers, and their fathers, and their fathers fathers, but you all know that. They came here, centuries ago, to escape the wars and calamities that had consumed the lands that had once been our home. Our forbearers settled here, hoping to find peace and safety away from the perils of the old land. The swamps have not been without their dangers, but they endured and built homes and families because whatever danger existed here was nothing compared to those they had escaped from. This story was told down through the generations and the lesson I took from it, was that everything that existed outside our home, outside this swamp, was dangerous and not be welcomed or trusted. I believed that, wholeheartedly," he said as he wiped his hand over his crimson head and back down his face, his mouth moving as if chewing as he gazed around.

"Three years ago, I was proven wrong, but I didn't realize it straight away. It took someone else to make me realize that. Amber, would you come up here, please?"

Amber rose from where she hovered, fluttering over gently to her father, Red stretching out his arm as she smiled warmly and allowed herself to be pulled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. The gathering watched as he held her affectionately, the father and daughter looking to each other tenderly as Spyro watched in adoring silence.

"Spyro," Red announced as he turned with Amber towards him, "The day you came into our lives was certainly an eventful one. I blamed you for bringing Arborik into our village, and whether you did or didn't doesn't matter anymore. Because not only did you save us from a monster that had been a constant fear of ours for years, but…" he said as he hugged Amber closer to him, a bright smile lighting his usually hard face, "My only daughter owes her life to you, which brings me to my next point. We have done our best to have the lives we so desire, learning to live with the dangers that come from having our home here. We learned to cope with the Frogweeds, Toadweeds, Spiders, even Arborik. But it never lessened the pain when one of us was taken away by them," he remarked solemnly, "We have all lost someone we cared for; Flavie. Lilly. Barend, Jurian's grandfather," Red paused as he seemed to have difficulty with the next name he wanted to say, finally saying it slower than the others, "Dawn, my wife…"

Spyro felt a lump form in his throat, which he tried to clear with a mild cough just as he noticed the sadness that suddenly dampened Nina, Flash quickly offering her a soothing embrace from her side. He turned his head, about to ask why, when Sparx pre-emptively tapped him on the right side of the head.

"Lilly was Mum's sister," he whispered lowly, "It happened before I was born."

"Oh…" Spyro mused quietly.

Red took a few reflective moments before he lifted his head and buried his emotions, forcing a smile before proclaiming to the gathering, "And yet, in the three years that Spyro has been with us, we have not lost a single member of our community to any of the dangers we have come to accept. Through the goodness of his heart, he has kept us safe, saving our lives not just from Arborik, but from every creature that would have us for supper. We have not had to mourn the loss of anyone, because of him. We didn't ask him to become our guardian, our protector, but whenever one of us was in danger, he had never hesitated to use any of his amazing powers to come to our aid!"

"That's right!" shouted a green male dragonfly further down the table, "Why, he saved me from a Bulb spider two weeks after he got here!"

"My son would have been eaten if it wasn't for Spyro!" called out a mother from the midst.

"A Toadweed had me in its tongue and he turned it into a block of ice!"

"When was the last time you saw any of them come near the village?" called out Marko, the blue dragonfly, "Have any of us ever felt this safe?"

His question was met with a chorus of hearty agreements as Spyro suddenly felt his nerves coming loose as he was met with a sea grins and cheers, everyone speaking over each other as they tried to add their stories of how the purple dragon had been responsible for saving them, many of which he struggled to recall and were only coming back to him in that moment.

"I was just in the right place…" he began to say, but his voice was barely audible among all the others as Sparx slapped him firmly on his right shoulder and exclaimed,

"Come on, Spyro, you're a hero! Soak it up a little!"

Red Firmin put up his hands to quieten the crowd as Spyro felt sure he would blush himself redder than the crimson dragonfly. The patriarch of the village looked over at the purple dragon, his gaze sheepishly returned as Spyro's wings crept around the front of him as if he was planning on hiding behind them.

"And so, Spyro," Firmin said proudly, "From all of us, I want to thank you for everything you have done by virtue of only being yourself. And for me personally, I want to thank you from the bottom of my hard heart. Not just for the life of my daughter and my village, but for opening my mind and showing me that not all that exists outside our swamp is to be feared. Finally, I want to say I'm sorry for how hard I was in the beginning. You came here to seek escape from danger and fear and I wanted to cast you out, forgetting that it was danger and fear that bought us all here in the first place."

With a final nod and warm glance of approval from Amber, Red turned and fluttered his way back with her to the far end of the table, the other dragonflies clapping their hands, some whistling in approval of his unusually kind and heartfelt words. Spyro himself did not clap, nor could he, for he sat as though intoxicated upon his seat, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The clapping for Firmin soon turned to clapping for him, Flash, Nina and Sparx all smiling brightly as they joined in the chorus, eyes bright and shimmering as Spyro felt like he was radiating every molecule of emotion his body could produce.

He was sure he was burning bright red as his cheeks fattened into a smile that felt like it would never wear off. He stood up from his seat, putting his front paws on the low table as he felt like he was a king holding a grand feast with his royal court singing its praise for him. The claps and cheers swelled their way up to him as he slowly bowed his head across the table, feeling so light he might float away without the use of his wings.

"Come on! Speech! Speech!" cried Sparx, his cry soon mimicked by the other young dragonflies as the adults, for the most part, simply clapped along as the younger ones let out the exuberance of the moment. Spyro eventually raised his right paw and wing to single his intent as the dragonflies quietened down for him, his head remaining low as the purple dragon chuckled giddily.

He laughed softly a few more times before he finally lifted his head to the crowd, his deep amethyst eyes glistening as he drew in a sniffle.

"I…I won't make a big speech," he said in a frail voice, "I just… Thank you. Thank you all for tonight and all your kind words. I… You've all… I'm sorry I can't…"

"It's alright, son," Flash said comfortingly as he fluttered up and rubbed him on the ridge of his left eyebrow, Spyro tilting his head like a cat getting its ear scratched. Nina joined her husband as she rubbed the young dragon's snout, "There's no shame here, dear. Let out whatever you want to let out."

"Thanks, Mum. Thanks Dad," Spyro replied, the words never sounding as sweet to him as they did just now. Breathing deep, he barely stopped his eyes from overflowing as he spoke just firmly enough to stop his voice from cracking. Now he had the words.

"Everyone… You've all said tonight about how thankful you are for what I've done for you, and I'm grateful. But in truth, I owe you all so much more. I could never have imagined any of this, after everything that happened to me back where I came from. I felt so alone in this whole crazy world. I didn't know where I belonged or where I would end up, but whether it was luck or destiny, if you believe in that, I ended up here. Flash and Nina, who now I call Mum and Dad, and Sparx, took me in when I was at my worst and treated me like I was always their son. Like Red, er, Firmin said, not everyone saw me like that at the start, but you came to accept me when I had nowhere and no one else to turn to. Chasing off a few Frogweeds and dealing with some log golem seems like nothing compared to that! You say I saved your village, but you all saved me."

Feeling his heart swelling and his tear ducts about to breach, Spyro shared a wonderous, open-mouthed grin with them all as he stood proudly and said, "They say home is where the heart is. Even after three years I felt like half my heart was still back in the place I escaped from, back with everyone and everything I lost. But tonight, I know its whole again and its right here with all of you. My heart is home, and my home is here."

Another wave of cheers erupted upon his conclusion, Sparx throwing himself at the purple dragon and grabbing onto his right-side horn, raising his other arm in celebration as he turned to the crowd and cheered with them for Spyro as he gazed back and forth across the gathered dragonflies as they closed in on him. Soon the whole village was bunched up in front and beside him, his foster brother and parents the closest of them all as the swamp echoed with their celebratory cheers. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, but Spyro knew that every word he had said that night was the truest he had ever spoken. He felt uplifted, liberated by that fact.

The first step had been taken last night when he had revoked his belief in the prophecy he was allegedly apart of. Now the final step had been taken. Here, surrounded by the friends and family he had found in this place, Spyro knew he was ready to move on and forget. The Chronicler, Ignitus, The Guardians, Flame and Ember, the hero he was supposed to have been.

Even Cynder.

End of Chapter 12

Next Chapter: Down to One