This chapter contains some heavy gore and prolonged torture sequences.
The Dark Overlord took a deep breath, looking down at the Ring of Spirits which lay in front of him on the table. Beside it was a large book about the Ring of Spirits, listing everything it can do. He had already started learning how to use it to make his dark dragons more sentient, allowing the large majority of them the ability to communicate and think for themselves, being able to formulate plans and fight strategically rather than being mindless pawns that existed only to fight.
He had managed to give some of the dark dragons this ability years ago, such as Shorok, Vhara, Fa'roth, and Bal'rathir, the bloodluster general, as well as the small group of spies he had created, but doing so took a lot of energy out of him and he wasn't able to do it at a large scale. Now with the Ring of Spirits, he was able to do it at a large scale, which had been a huge help over the past few weeks, particularly in the planning of how to get Forzen back. It had been much easier giving orders and talking to dragons who could communicate back to him, and Spyro wished he had known of the Ring of Spirits' existence all those years ago.
Now he stood there, studying more about the ring, learning about how it has the ability to bring inanimate objects to life as well. Over the past three days, he had spent a large amount of time in his quarters, pulling out an old hobby of his, which he hadn't done for twelve years: sculpting. He had spent this time dusting off his skills, and perfecting his sculpting to be exactly what he wanted.
In front of him, behind the table where the ring and the large book lay, stood three stone figures. One was a venomfang, working off one of his own already existing creations to get himself used to this again.
One was a completely new creation, which he had named a maw serpent; it was a large snake-like creature with a long, thick body, its back covered in spines, and a massive mouth that was almost like an abyss that plunged deep into its large throat. Three rows of massive, jagged fangs circled around its mouth, and extra rows of smaller sharp teeth continued to run down the depths of its mouth into its throat. A bite from this thing would be awful, as its maw was all teeth; it didn't have a tongue. Five pairs of tiny, beady eyes ran down the top of its head. A few spiked frills ran down its body, which Spyro had intended to lie flat, but would fan out as a defense mechanism, and could even shoot the spikes out if needed, which it would slowly regrow over time.
The third one was a garvalat, meaning 'evil follower', one of the four-armed creatures from the time of Armageddon, which the Warfangians had dubbed 'dragonslayers'. Spyro didn't know where the urge to create one of these had come from, but as he finished the maw serpent, he had gotten a very strong urge to sculpt one, and he hadn't been able to fight it. The urge had taken over his body and he ran on autopilot as he made it. It was just as terrifying as he remembered: its large bipedal form complete with four arms, sickles for claws, its face baring no eyes or nose, being only mouth, with two snake-like tongues protruding from inside the depths of its maw, complete with four rotating rows of teeth.
Satisfied with the sculptures in front of him, he grabbed the Ring of Spirits and pulled it up over one of his claws. The ring began to glow with a haunting pink colour, and Spyro took a deep breath. He reached out with his paw, before beginning to chant in ancient draconic, watching as the pink glow grew stronger and stronger, and a strange pink mist began to slither through the air out of the ring towards the sculptures.
The pink mist snaked around the sculptures, running up their limbs, chest, and neck, before sinking into their heads. Spyro finished the incantation and watched as the pink mist did its work. Slowly, the stone started to dissipate, cracking and breaking away, turning into dust. Underneath the stone were sleek, shiny scales. Black goo started to seep from the cracks in the stone on the garvalat's sculpture, washing over the black scales.
The venomfang was the first to break out of its sculpture, venom dripping from its jaws, as it looked around, confused as to where it was. The maw serpent let out a loud shriek as it followed, shaking its head around to throw the dust off it, its ten beady green eyes looking around curiously. Its deep brown scales glistened in the torchlight from the purple flames that burned on the wall. Then, the garvalat broke through, letting out its signature squeal.
"Bow," Spyro ordered.
All three of them stood at attention at the sound of their master, and obeyed. The venomfang lowered its torso to the ground, closing its eyes and tilting its head forward in a bow. The maw serpent also lowered its head. The garvalat knelt down on one knee, lowering its torso and head in a respectful bow.
"Rise."
They did so.
Spyro then reached his paw forward once more, chanting another spell, watching the pink glow and mist come out of the Ring of Spirits once more. Once he was done, he gave them yet another order: "Speak."
"Yes, Lord Spyro," all three of them said in unison. The venomfang spoke with a hiss as normal, the maw serpent spoke telepathically, having no tongue to be able to help form words, and the garvalat spoke with the most hideous, scary voice Spyro had ever heard.
Besides Naar'voth, of course, he thought, before immediately shaking the thought away with a shudder.
"Perfect. You three will do well to obey my orders. Set a good example, and I might create more of you. Go find Shorok, the shadowclaw general. He will help teach you how we do things here," Spyro ordered.
The three creatures nodded and began to file out of Spyro's quarters, the venomfang and garvalat leading the way, the large maw serpent travelling behind them. Spyro gave a small smile, glad that everything worked the way it should have. Those statues had come alive, and were now under his every command. His only concern was the garvalat, since these creatures were loyal only to Naar'voth. Would it stay under his control, or would it betray him at some point?
I created it with the Ring of Spirits. It is bound to me by the ring. It shouldn't be able to break away from my command. Its life, its spirit, is a gift that I have given it. I can easily take it away with the ring as well, Spyro thought with a huff.
Spyro then turned back to the book, turning a few pages, before he was suddenly interrupted by a loud shout. "Lord Spyro! Lord Spyro!" D'varin shouted.
"What have I said about interrupting me when I'm in my chambers?" Spyro growled angrily.
"It's urgent, we've come to report about Forzen, my lord."
"You didn't bring him back?!" Spyro roared, whirling around, before recoiling at the sight of the fearbringer beside D'varin.
"It was too dangerous. We needed more backup if we were to capture him properly," the fearbringer explained, picking at his face and pulling off a thin string of melted flesh that was hanging down his face and getting into his mouth as he spoke.
"It was my idea to retreat, my lord. Blame me if you want someone to blame," D'varin added, to which Spyro raised a paw, telling him to be quiet.
"So you're telling me Forzen did this?" Spyro asked, walking up towards the fearbringer, studying the extent of the horrific wounds on his face.
"Affirmative. My partner didn't make it," the fearbringer said. "The other venomfang you sent out a few days after Forzen's escape also didn't make it. She was killed recently, also by Forzen."
"What element did he use to do this?"
"Plasma, my lord."
"You can't be serious…"
"I'm very serious. He burned my entire face off, and blew out the brains of my partner with it. He killed her pretty much instantly when that plasma beam detonated."
"So… he has a fourth element, and it's stronger than my own plasma. This is… this is some news…"
"Please don't be mad, my lord," D'varin murmured, bowing.
"Rise. I'm not mad. In fact, this is good. Well, if he was on our side. This just means that we have to be more careful in recapturing him, and that we need to do it now before he becomes even more powerful."
"I think that sounds like a good idea, Lord Spyro," D'varin replied.
"Go grab Drachen for me so we can talk. You two are both dismissed. And get that face looked at."
"Yes, my lord," D'varin and the fearbringer said, before turning and leaving.
Spyro was now left alone for a moment while he waited for his second in command to come and meet him. By now, he was starting to delve deep into his thoughts. I should have held onto him tighter. I shouldn't have hesitated in infusing him with darkness. I should have corrupted him when I got the chance, Spyro thought, shaking his head with a low growl. Why did I have to wait so long? Why did I have to pity him so much?
Thinking back to twelve years ago, every time he looked at that tiny purple hatchling, he couldn't think of a reason why he had pitied the whelpling and refused to corrupt him. Why did he not want to do it? If he had the baby purple dragon in his clutches now, he wouldn't hesitate to corrupt him; so why did he back then?
He did have to acknowledge that losing Forzen a few weeks ago had hardened him significantly. This was already the case over the last twelve years, particularly since he had continued to delve more and more into his darkness, but losing Forzen had made something snap in him. His one key to victory, a second purple dragon, had escaped and ended up in the enemy's clutches, and was becoming incredibly powerful very quickly. It would have been amazing if Spyro had that on his side, but he had messed up his chance to have that, due to his stupid decision to hesitate and take pity on the small dragon.
The Dark Overlord should've corrupted Forzen the moment he figured out how to do so. That way Forzen wouldn't have known anything else in life. He would have been completely devoted to the Dark Overlord's cause, believing that what he was doing was right.
So did Cynder, and deep inside, she knew otherwise.
The thought surprised him, having come completely out of nowhere. It was his first thought of Cynder that hadn't been on the approach of her as his biggest enemy, for the first time in… he didn't know how long. It had been many years since he had last thought anything about her unrelated to her being his enemy.
So why now? He didn't care about her. She had betrayed him, refused to see his reasoning, and gave up on him. She didn't even try to give him a chance once he decided to step into his dark side. He had offered her many times to join him where he would not hurt her, but she shut him down every single time.
Where previously, thinking about those moments had hurt, now he just thought about those moments and scoffed. How could he be so naive to think that Cynder would ever follow him? She didn't know what he did. She didn't have the power that he did. She didn't have the strength to do all the hard things he had to do and give up.
While he would have loved to have the Terror of the Skies on his side, and to do this all as a family, he knew it was impossible for that to ever happen. Now his only disappointment came from not having the Terror of the Skies on his side, not that his wife had rejected him over and over again. He wanted the Terror on his side; she had impressive skills and agility, and was very powerful and knew how to fight and kill very well. After all, she was raised to do it.
She was his entire inspiration for the Dark Assassin Corps.
All this time and you still can't let her go, something deep within him said.
I gave up on her the moment she rejected my last offer to join me, the Dark Overlord thought back.
Then why are you still thinking about her this way? the voice taunted. She's more than a potential asset to you. I can feel it deep within you. You are still attracted to her.
Please, she's my enemy. She's tried to kill me time and time again. Cynder is nothing to me.
But the Terror of the Skies, though?
What about her?
You want her.
As an ally, nothing more!
Deep within, I can tell you want more than that.
I'm not attracted to her!
Face it, Dark Overlord, the Terror of the Skies was hot. I've seen your dreams of her.
Get out of my head, you bastard!
The dark voice gave a low chuckle, before it disappeared. The Dark Overlord growled, clutching his head. It wasn't unnatural to have extra dark voices inside his head, especially since he had devoted himself even more to the darkness within him. He could never tell if they were truly his deepest, darkest desires, or a completely separate entity. The voices always sounded very much like him, and very much not.
Every time the dark voices spoke, they always seemed very tempting, very enticing. The temptation was always hard to fight when they spoke. He wanted to fight this war his way, do things his way, but it was sometimes incredibly hard to do that when the dark voices kept taunting him.
And now he found himself unable to move on from the conversation that had just happened. The entity that was the Terror of the Skies, a being completely separate from Cynder, created from Malefor's darkness, was now the only thing on his mind. He tried so hard to move on, but he just could not let the thought of her go.
He wondered if she was still lying dormant inside Cynder, despite Cynder saying that the Terror was dead and that she had been vanquished. Spyro was powerful when he was twelve, but against an entity like the Terror of the Skies, he didn't think he had the power to fully kill the Terror back then. It had taken Cynder a while to bring herself back from everything that the Terror of the Skies had taught her; it had taken her several weeks to tear down all the bloodlust and anger she still felt. Even now that Cynder was reverting back to her harsh, violent ways, Spyro could see some of the Terror in the way she acted. Surely the Terror of the Skies was still in there in some way? The Dark Overlord hoped that was the case.
He thought back to the Dark War, where he had first met the Terror of the Skies in the flesh. She was very large, probably even larger than Cynder was now, although it was hard to judge since the last time Spyro saw the Terror was when he was twelve and absolutely tiny in comparison to her—it was a wonder he was able to beat such a massive monster at his age, size and lack of experience in war. She was also slender but still bore some very impressive curves, her chest well-rounded and her torso nice and thin, accentuating her hips and the arch of her back. Her sharp, angled face with long, smooth yet awfully sharp horns was intimidating, yet enticing, now that he looked back on it. He remembered the way her piercing teal eyes stared deep into his soul. And her voice… it was dark, raspy, venomous. Just imagining it sent a shiver down his spine.
But he liked it. He liked all of it.
Stop. This isn't any helpful use of my time, he thought, slapping himself in the face and finally catching himself on his sudden, unnecessary fixation on the Terror of the Skies.
You're thinking about her again.
No thanks to you.
Sexy, isn't she?
Be quiet, damn it!
Hey, your late dragonfly brother's words, not mine. I'm surprised he was able to see it and not you.
Enough! I have more pressing matters at hand, like TRYING TO GET MY SON BACK!
Okay, okay, the dark voice mocked, taking on a frustrated tone with him. I won't distract you anymore. For now at least.
Never come back.
No promises.
The Dark Overlord felt his body shaking with rage. He wanted to punch something; the dark voice was really starting to piss him off now. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a dark figure step into his room. With a roar, Spyro launched himself at the figure, grabbing it and slamming the dragon against the wall. Spyro raised a fist, ready to wallop the dragon in the side of the face, before the dragon's surprised shouting registered in his ears.
"LORD SPYRO, IT'S ME! STOP!" Drachen exclaimed.
The Dark Overlord stood there, still slowly registering that the black-scaled dragon in his grasp was Drachen, pressed against the wall, moments away from being punched in the jaw. It was taking everything within Spyro not to complete his punch, and eventually it got too much for him. With a roar of rage, he completed his punch, but managed to aim it at the wall instead. Several cracks appeared in the heavy rock wall, before Spyro finally stepped back and let go of Drachen.
"What the hell was that for?" Drachen asked.
"You know better than to speak to me that way," Spyro snarled, turning around and making his way back to the table in the middle of the room, sitting down behind it.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I would just like to know why you tried to attack me after sending me your summons. If you wanted a punching bag I'm sure any of the slaves would be a much better choice," Drachen said. "Did I do something wrong, Master?"
"No. Just my… just my anger catching up to me," Spyro growled. "Come, sit. We need to discuss some plans moving forward about how to recapture my son."
"I take it there's been some… undesirable advancements with him?"
"You would be correct. D'varin and the fearbringer that I sent out to Warfang returned, bearing news that Forzen has discovered a fourth element. He has discovered plasma, and it is several times more powerful than my own."
"I thought you had more raw power than him. We did a power reading when he was three."
"We did. I'm unsure whether that has changed or not, or whether plasma is just one of those elements that he is naturally stronger with. Us purple dragons have that perk, where some elements that we bear might be stronger than the others. When it comes to plasma, I don't have that. I can use it, but it doesn't come naturally to me; I find it hard to call upon. I suppose I need to get some practice in on my plasma element."
"How much more powerful are we talking about, just out of curiosity?"
"He blew the fearbringer's face off with it, and the venomfang I sent out with him was killed. Apparently her brains were blown out. It seems he's able to release a strain of plasma that is more explosively charged than mine. He can cause some catastrophic damage with his plasma element, which will make it quite hard to get to him safely."
"Why don't we just send a full attack? Surely if we overwhelm him, we will be able to work our way through his plasma attacks. He can't attack everyone at once," Drachen suggested.
"With Forzen being in school for most of the week, I don't think that's a good idea. We've already had a big attack in the school, likely two if I'm piecing everything together right from D'varin and the fearbringer."
"Two?"
"The very first venomfang I sent to spy on Forzen is also dead. I would assume the fight happened on the schoolgrounds too. At this point, I think the school will be prepared and making every decision necessary to prevent another attack. I don't think it's smart or safe to be putting our troops into that setting, even in disguise."
"So, a normal siege on Warfang now?"
"Possibly, although I'm still worried. We've been advancing too quickly on this I think, even though getting Forzen back is urgent."
"So we attack somewhere else then, force the Warfang military to leave, and then attack Warfang to get Forzen."
"Not quite, but I think you're on the right spot. You mentioned overwhelming Forzen. He's never been on a warground before. What if we attack some other settlement and threaten to raze it to the ground if Warfang doesn't help. But the catch is, Forzen must be there. And I think a very minimal military reinforcement. I don't want the whole military there because they can easily fight back if they have numbers, and likely get in the way of us overwhelming and capturing Forzen."
"I don't think they'll spare too many soldiers. After all, D'varin and Trogon said that Cynder took three others with her to Typhaar when they destroyed it in search of the Ring of Spirits," Drachen said, gesturing to the ring still around Spyro's claw.
"One of them was her brother, who isn't a soldier, so in reality it was only two. Still, I can't trust that she'll do that again, particularly after a failure on her part as big as that. I know Cynder; she doesn't underestimate someone more than once. We need to force her to take as little reinforcements as possible, or she will take at least a dozen troops, I'm sure of it."
"So we make it that only Cynder and Forzen can go. If she doesn't abide by that, we destroy the city."
"Interesting, I'm starting to like this idea. Besides, if we do that, then it means we can overwhelm Cynder as well. She's not as immortal as she thinks she is; she's just gotten lucky by this point. We capture Forzen, kill Cynder, and get out of there."
"Kill Cynder?"
"Yes."
"You sure you don't want to capture and corrupt her as well? She could be a huge asset to us, and not only that, I'm sure it would be cool to have your whole family here with you again."
"If we bring her in, she will be recaptured, made the leader of the Assassin Corps, and that's it! She will be nothing more than an asset! I do not care for or have a need for family any more, do you understand that?!" Spyro roared, standing up, smoke billowing from his nostrils, trying with everything inside him not to reach over the table and grab Drachen by the throat.
"My lord, I'm sorry if I upset you!" Drachen exclaimed, recoiling out of fear from Spyro's rage. "It was just a suggestion, that's all!"
"And a suggestion that I do not want to hear again, is that clear?" Spyro snarled.
"Loud and clear."
That goes to you, if you can hear me, Spyro thought to his dark voices.
Like you can do anything to stop me, the dark voice practically laughed in his head.
I will find a way to get rid of you once and for all.
Good luck, Dark Overlord. There are things about dark magic that even you would never be able to comprehend.
"Anyway, shall we get… back on track?" Drachen asked, his voice cutting through the internal argument Spyro was having.
"Yes. Let's," Spyro replied, taking a deep breath and sitting back down across the table from Drachen.
"So… is there anywhere in particular you think would be good to target for this attack?" Drachen asked.
"It's gotta be somewhere that Cynder has close connections with, or somewhere that Warfang finds very important to it."
"It'll probably have to be the latter. Cynder barely leaves Warfang anymore aside from if the Warfang military gets called on for one of our sieges. The last place she held close to her that I can think of is Typhaar due to her family heritage there, but we've already destroyed that. I don't think she has the heart left to form connections, particularly meaningful, personal ones, in other cities."
"You're right on that, Drachen. So somewhere that's important to Warfang. Maybe a big trade market or a huge ally of theirs. Unfortunately I never got too into learning about the military or what the guardians were getting into in terms of who they were interacting with for trades, allied forces, or whatever, so I don't really have a huge clue on what to do there."
"We have some slaves who were soldiers from Warfang. Remember we caught a whole military party on their way from Warfang, intercepted them and enslaved them?"
"Yeah about a year and a half ago. The Warfang Defense Support Squad. Surely out of the seventeen of them there should be someone who has some knowledge helpful to us," Spyro mused, before standing up. "Alright, let's go get them. Do you know where they are stationed here?"
"They're stationed as practice targets for the Dark Assassin Corps. Being Warfangian soldiers, they are key for the Assassin Corps to practice fighting the major enemy. I believe they have a day off being opponents today, so they'll likely be all in their cells."
"Alright, let's go talk to them."
With that, Spyro and Drachen both made their way to the cells over near the Dark Assassin Corps' sector in Dark Peak. As they walked through the caves, many slaves either bowed, or scrambled out of the way of them. It was a common occurrence whenever Spyro himself walked by them. Being the Dark Overlord, the one in charge of Dark Peak and the once who started this entire war, everyone was afraid of him. Even some of his own followers bowed, even though they didn't need to. He knew they were loyal to him, but fear pushed the reverence out of them, as well as the need to bow.
As they turned the corner into a large open area where the mines were, Spyro turned to see Fa'roth, the fearbringer general, whipping a slave savagely with his nasty sickle-like tailblades, slicing both of them across the dragon's back. The slave howled with pain as she lay on her stomach, splayed out against the ground, deep slices running down her back as blood flooded out over it, staining her bright yellow scales. Fa'roth let out savage roars with each strike.
Spyro scoffed, internally laughing at the slave's misery, before turning his attention away from the mines and the torture as he and Drachen made their way deeper into the mountain, down towards the Dark Assassin Corps.
As they walked into their training chamber, where the slaves' cells sat just behind it, all of the dragons currently in there came to an abrupt stop, turning around and bowing down before Spyro and Drachen. "Rise. You may continue your training," Spyro ordered, before looking around and seeing a few dragons in the corner on their own, doing some workouts and exercise. "You three in the far corner. Come with us."
"Yes, my lord," they said, running up towards them.
One of them was an ice dragoness, her eyes a bright, piercing blue, named Nora. She had become notorious for killing her mother, Rey'linn, two weeks after her corruption, having been nicknamed Mother Killer. Since then, she had grown a large disdain for the concept of motherhood, and had volunteered herself for any task that involved killing a mother or her children.
The second one was her younger brother, Rast'en. He sported dark, faded green scales, burly musculature, and massive ram-like horns. He was nicknamed the Juggernaut, having one of the largest, bulkiest builds out of all the males in the Assassin Corps. He had grown taller than Spyro as well, and was extremely intimidating, and packed an extremely heavy punch. There was one time a few years ago where Spyro had offered himself to a training session with the Assassin Corps so they got a chance to see how they would fare against him in a purely physical sense. Spyro was holding back, but even then, Rast'en was the only one who actually got close to beating him; many of the corrupted dragons were convinced that Rast'en would win the fight, but he had only just fallen short.
The third one that came with Spyro and Drachen was named Viala, a lithe lightning dragoness with deadly spikes all over her body. She was nicknamed the Supersonic Slayer, being one of the fastest and smallest of the Assassin Corps, but also being incredibly deadly with her attacks. She could overwhelm and kill within a matter of seconds, even against an experienced fighter. She was the runt of her clutch, but she was the only one of the four that had shown promise to be in the Dark Assassin Corps. After she had been corrupted, her first kills that she was tasked with were her own siblings. They were the only kills she had ever taken her time with. She wanted to enjoy it, to hear them scream and plead; she wanted to hear them question why she was killing them.
"My lord, what do we owe the pleasure of serving you today?" Nora asked with a slight bow of her head.
"The slaves that you frequently fight might have some information for us that we would like to get from them. You three are here to make sure they behave. We will be letting them out of their cells so we can see them all and make sure they're telling us the truth, and maybe inflict some punishments if we need to," Spyro explained.
Being the one who directly oversaw the Dark Assassin Corps, Drachen then moved to start giving out orders. "Rast'en, take your position by the entrance. You're the biggest one, and I doubt that any of the slaves would try to get past you. If they do, stop them," Drachen ordered, to which the large earth dragon nodded in return. "Nora and Viala, I'd like you to aid us in bringing the slaves out of their cells, and keeping them in line. Punish them if necessary. Are those orders satisfactory, my master?"
"Indeed," Spyro replied. "Now, let's proceed."
Spyro and Drachen led the way in, before Nora and Viala brushed past them and opened the doors to the cells, not before slamming on them loudly and demanding that they line up in the hall. All seventeen of them stepped out, freezing when they saw Spyro standing at the end of the hall, Drachen standing beside him, and the large, hulking form of Rast'en standing behind, blocking the exit.
The Dark Overlord scanned his eyes across each of the slaves. Due to their physical role in being training targets for the Dark Assassin Corps, Spyro wanted them to be in good shape, so all things considered, they were well looked after. They had enough food to sustain them, and also had a decent amount of water.
The only downside was the state of their bodies, as they were absolutely covered in scars. The slaves were barely given red gems for healing, as Spyro didn't want to waste any on mere slaves. They were only given treatment if they absolutely needed it, or if their wounds would impede on future sparring sessions, but even then, that didn't always mean the use of red gems. This meant that oftentimes, the slaves were left to heal on their own, without red gems and without any extra medical treatment. Even bandages weren't spared on them for the most part.
Each of the slaves had been through a massive amount of pain throughout their time here, being in and out of the training rings, constantly getting beat up by the corrupted dragons and almost never having a chance of winning—only two of them had ever been victorious; one of them once, and another three times.
The ex-soldier who had emerged victorious three times against a corrupted dragon had been beaten senselessly as punishment, and now he almost never was let out for training sessions. While each of the soldiers had lost a decent amount of weight and strength, despite sporting a somewhat still-muscular build, the dragon known as Tragnar was starting to border the line of underweight, as his lack of fighting meant that he didn't need to keep up on meals, so the dark dragons in charge had just stopped feeding him. Tragnar also had the most severe scars covering his body from the punishment beating he had received.
After Tragnar had emerged victorious three times and then beaten for it, the other dragon who could claim a victory to his name, called Malagre, had tried to take out his revenge on the corrupted dragons. Malagre had gotten his victory from letting his anger get the better of him, and did not hold back. He wanted revenge; he wanted to score a kill. He still believed he could have, if the second corrupted dragon hadn't jumped into the fight to help contain him. He'd ended up with a similar punishment to Tragnar, his face, limbs and flanks hacked into savagely, to the point where his icy blue scales had almost completely gone dark, thick red with his blood. Due to this punishment, Malagre had large areas on his body where the scars were so deep that scales would not grow back over his skin.
Spyro saw Tragnar and Malagre in the back of the room, watching him with fear in their eyes. Many of the others were trying hard to keep their brave face on, standing firm with hardened expressions as if they were in front of their commander. Tragnar and Malagre know what's good for them. They will do well to be afraid of me, Spyro thought with a dark smirk.
However, as he looked further, he noticed Nora was struggling to bring one of the dragons out of his cell, and Spyro counted only sixteen lined up in the hall double file. "Come on, you whelp! You have orders, now move it!" Nora snarled.
"NO! I have had ENOUGH of being bossed around and beaten by the lot of you! ONE AND A HALF YEARS I've had to deal with it! I'm DONE!" the dragon inside the cell screamed.
"Well it's your choice, you can either be bossed around and comply, or disobey and be beaten into submission. It's not a hard choice."
"Just listen to her, Lieutenant Ardein," one of the dragons near the front of the group groaned. "I know you hate this, but it's not worth going against them."
The fire dragon who spoke got slapped across the face by Viala, her claws striking his face at lightning speed, drawing thin lines of blood. "This doesn't concern you, blabbermouth," she growled. "Quit your yapping or I'll tear out your voice box. It's not like you need it for what you're here for."
The slave reached a paw up to his throat, holding it tenderly, before nodding his head. Meanwhile, Ardein was proving to be a challenge for Nora, still refusing to come out. "I don't know what they want, but I want no part of it! I'm here to do what I was stationed here to do, and that's fight with you guys in the training arena!" he shouted.
"You are stationed to obey orders, Lieutenant," Nora snapped. "I would assume someone in your position would understand what that's all about."
"I won't take orders from scum like you!"
"Ancestors, he's gone mad," one of the slaves whispered to another.
"He's been gradually losing it over the last two months; I'm surprised he didn't snap sooner," the other slave whispered back.
"Your orders have come from Lord Spyro, ba'vilat," Nora spat at Ardein. "Obey or else."
"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL!" the ex-lieutenant screamed, insanity washing over him as he shouted.
"Nora, seize him and bring him here," Spyro ordered, causing all of the ex-soldiers to stiffen at the sound of his voice.
"Yes, Master," Nora replied, stepping into the room.
"NO, STAY AWAY FROM ME! NO! I WILL KILL YOU!"
"You can't even beat me in a normal fight when you're of a clear mind, let alone when you're crazy."
The sound of heavy blows being exchanged sounded from the cell, and the slaves winced with each hit that sounded. The slaves standing in positions where they could see into the room reacted the most visibly. The hits were repetitive and heavy, and at one point, it sounded like Nora had grabbed Ardein by the back of the head and was now repeatedly slamming his face into the wall. Ardein's screams became more and more filled with pain the more strikes he took, and the sounds of wet splattering made it clear that he was now shedding a lot of blood.
The Dark Overlord wasn't counting how many blows Ardein had taken, but after nearly a full thirty seconds of continuous beating of his face against the wall, he called out once more. "Nora, that's enough! Bring him here," he demanded.
The sounds of violence stopped, before the sound of dragging began. Nora dragged Ardein out of the room, holding him by his nape. His body lay limply behind him as it was dragged along the floor, and his head hung low. Blood spilled in torrents down his face, dripping from his nose and mouth and several large cuts around his eyes and forehead. It splattered on the ground rhythmically, leaving a trail of blood splatters on the ground. His left eye was swollen so much it was closed shut, and the other was still open, but was horribly bloodshot, the sclera almost appearing entirely red, contrasting against the piercing green of his irises.
Ardein gave a lopsided smile, chuckling hysterically at the other slaves, dragons that he had once called his squad that he had led proudly. "Look at you all, giving into their demands and evil deeds. You're no better than them. Pitiful!" Ardein mocked, spitting blood out of his mouth as he spoke, several flecks of the dark red liquid spraying over his squad.
"Cooperation would not have ended with you in this situation, you know that, right?" Spyro asked darkly as Nora dropped Ardein in front of him.
"I will never cooperate with the likes of you. I'm done with that. I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of death. Being killed will be a mercy to me," Ardein snarled.
"You should fear me. Only fools would find themselves unable to fear me," Spyro replied.
"You realise how arrogant you sound? Go to hell."
"Surprise. You and I are already there. Welcome to hell."
The purple dragon raised his claws and flashed them across Ardein's back, over and over and over again. The earth dragon cried out in pain, but was also still half-laughing from his sudden mania. He screamed out indistinctly, unable to form proper words from the pain he was going through, blood spilling from his lips as he spoke, even a few loose teeth flying from his mouth.
"You claim death is a mercy? Too bad you're not dying right now!" Spyro growled, bloodlust gleaming in his eyes.
As he hacked deeper and deeper into Ardein's back, he found his claws scraping against the bone of his spine, causing all the slaves to recoil in horror from the sound. Spyro then proceeded to dig deep into the wound, grabbing large chunks of flesh and peeling it off Ardein's back, exposing more blood and gore and bone. He even ripped off Ardein's left wing to allow room for him to peel off more flesh, running down to the ribcage, where everyone watched as Ardein's lungs heaved with each breath.
By now, Ardein was just screaming. His laughing and attempt to make words were all but gone as he screamed in agony as Spyro slowly peeled the flesh off his back. He then turned and walked his way down Ardein's body, ending at his tail. With his tailblade, Spyro slammed it down on Ardein's tail, chopping it off. Picking up the end of the disembodied tail in his maw, he made his way back to Ardein's front.
Spyro lifted himself onto his hind legs, reaching up with his forepaws and taking the disembodied tail out of his mouth. He then raised it high in the air, before slamming the heavy clubbed tail onto Ardein's head, crushing it with heavy force. He then lifted it and brought it down again. And then a third time.
After just three blows, the top of Ardein's head had completely caved in, blood streaming from between his scales. The dragon had gone silent, unmoving.
"No. I don't care if these are fatal wounds now. You DON'T GET TO DIE," the Dark Overlord snarled, his crimson eyes filled with rage, bloodlust consuming him.
He threw the tail to the side, before reaching out with his claws, the Ring of Spirits still around one of his talons. With a small incantation, the ring began to glow, and suddenly, Ardein moved again, letting out an awful, haggard cough, groaning in agony. A single word left his lips. "Why?" Ardein spluttered. It was the only word he was able to form.
"You said killing you would be a mercy. There is no mercy for you. Not now at least. I am preventing your soul from leaving your body. You will stay alive and awake as long as I deem it necessary. No matter how much you plead or scream or cry, your spirit is bound to this body, forever keeping it alive, until I say you can leave!" Spyro roared, every accentuated word made even more awful by a bone-crushing blow from Spyro's fists.
Spyro then grabbed Ardein by the side and rolled him over onto his back. Ardein cried out in agony as he landed roughly on the raw, broken spine and flesh, his blood now spilling out of his back in pools. His abdomen and chest were still completely untouched, and Spyro endeavoured to change that.
The Dark Overlord slammed his fists down on Ardein's chest, and there was a nasty crack as several ribs broke. From the part of his side that had been peeled open to reveal the side of the ribcage, the breaks were very much visible, and the slaves watched as the ribs shattered and ruptured Ardein's lungs. Spyro then moved over and hacked open Ardein's abdomen, revealing his digestive system. The purple dragon reached in and tore out the earth dragon's stomach, before moving back to Ardein's face and shoving it deep into his open mouth from his screams.
Ardein choked and spluttered as the large stomach was shoved into his mouth roughly, the walls of it being pierced by his sharp teeth. Now he found himself choking on a mixture of blood and digestive juices. He found himself gagging constantly from the onslaught of liquids that filled his mouth and throat. He did everything he could to move his paws up to grab his stomach out of his mouth, but with the state his body was in, he had no energy to do so. Even still, Spyro proceeded to chop off his arms down to the elbows, noticing Ardein's attempt to move his arms.
Spyro looked up, taking in the horrified, disgusted, pale faces of every other slave who was witnessing this happen. There was a puddle of vomit to the side of some of them, who had thrown up from the sight and smell of the absolute carnage unfolding in front of them.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you that cooperation and obedience is a must in Dark Peak!" Spyro boomed. "This is something we've thankfully never had to drill into you guys like we have the other slaves, and I assume this is due to your service in the army and being able to take orders. However, it has come to my attention that we should have drilled this lesson into you all like we did everyone else, so here it is! Obey, cooperate, and perform your duties well, and you won't end up like this sorry excuse of a lieutenant."
There was an incredibly uncomfortable silence between everyone, particularly now that the only sounds filling the room were the awful sounds of Ardein still choking and gagging on his bodily fluids. The pierced stomach had emptied itself of all of its contents into his mouth, but due to him laying on his back, he couldn't get the large amount of liquid out of his mouth. It tasted and smelled vile, it was combined with blood, and it was starting to run up his throat. Awful gurgling sounds started as he couldn't get the horrid mixture out of the back of his throat. To make matters worse, the deflated stomach still sat jammed between his jaws, acting almost like a gag.
"Well? Does everyone understand?" Drachen growled.
"Yes, Lord Spyro," the remaining sixteen slaves replied quickly, fear edging their voices.
"Perfect. Now, we have come here to ask you all some questions that we thought those who had come from the Warfang Army would be able to provide some answers and insight to. We are looking for a city or settlement that is very close and important to Warfang. A close ally amongst military forces perhaps, or a large trade partner, something along those lines," Spyro explained. "If anyone knows of any, and I'm sure you do, speak up now."
More silence, except for the awful sounds Ardein was making.
"Someone better speak up soon; we can always add another to that pitiful disgrace at the Dark Overlord's paws," Nora taunted.
"If no one speaks, I'm taking one more of you with this pathetic dragon," Spyro growled. "There are sixteen of you, I can spare one more; it's not like all of you are out in the training rings at once anyway. Now I'd better hear someone speak up in five… four… three… two…"
"Dryovell!" one of the slaves blurted, and some of the others around him gasped in shock.
"What was that?"
"Dryovell. It's, uh… it's one of Warfang's biggest allies. It's the second biggest dragon settlement, behind Warfang, and it's also got a massive military. Dryovell is very well known for its guards and military; its schools are primarily combat-based and focused around the guard or military programs. Everyone there knows how to fight exceptionally well, and as of Armageddon, Warfang has been receiving some extra assistance from Dryovell to fight the war. Dryovell is also very good at secrecy, so lots of the exchanges have gone underneath pretty much everyone's radar."
"Dryovell, huh? I've never heard of that city. Where is it, if it's so big and powerful, may I ask?"
"It's in the far west of the main continent of the Dragon Realms, two days' flight from Warfang; the entire city is actually inside a deep valley that most don't see until they are flying directly over it. From a distance, it just looks like a massive hole in the ground. They also don't get out very often, only coming out above ground if absolutely necessary, usually when their allies are in deep need of help."
"So where were they during the Dark War? I never saw them back then. To be fair, I never saw much of Warfang's army back then either."
"Oh they were fighting, alright. Malefor knew of Dryovell's existence, so they were fighting their own fights with him and weren't able to aid Warfang all too well. Like Warfang, they also went into hiding for safety near the end of the war."
"Hey, Ledron! Stop giving him all of their secrets, all of our secrets!" a slave from beside the one responding to Spyro hissed.
"Quiet, worm!" Nora hissed back, slapping the slave across the back of the head.
"If you interrupt him again, I'll get Nora to stop you from talking by force, understand? The only speaking I want to hear is anything that will answer my questions," Spyro threatened. "That goes for all of you, understand?"
"Yes, Lord Spyro," everyone spoke in unison.
"Great. Nora, tear his vocal chords out anyway. He doesn't need them for his job here as a training target," Spyro ordered.
Nora gave a gracious nod, and the slave who had spoken up started to hyperventilate. "Wait, what?! No, I'm sorry! Spare me, please!" he cried.
Before long, Nora's claws were in his throat, dark blood spilling down his fiery red scales. There was an awful sound of tearing flesh, before with a swift yank of her claws, Nora pulled the slave's voice box out of his throat. His mouth hung open in a soundless scream, tears spilling down his face, as he fell to the ground and held his paws firmly over the bloody wound in his throat.
Spyro turned back to Ledron, the slave giving him information. "Now, Ledron," Spyro said darkly. "Who is in charge of Dryovell?"
"Dryovell is run by a king. His name is King Ryo'vlon," Ledron replied.
"And this King Ryo'vlon, if we go over there and get him to send an urgent summons to Warfang, will they respond?"
"Highly likely. They're an ally that Warfang cannot afford to lose, and a long lasting ally that Warfang has had for centuries. Although, they're not to be underestimated. They won't give into your demands that easily."
"I understand. But neither are my forces," Spyro threatened darkly. "You've seen first hand what they're capable of. You train against them, and what you see in training is them holding back, as to not kill their practice targets. Do you understand?"
"Yes… Yes I do."
"Good. Now, thank you for your cooperation. You may get an extra meal tonight. The rest of you get nothing tonight. Now, everyone back to your cells!"
Nora and Viala coerced all of the slaves back into their individual cells, Viala using a little more force on one of them than she had expected. He had fought back, but Viala had proceeded to knock him out with a swift blow to the head, and she had dragged him into the cell. She didn't walk out immediately, proceeding to slug the unconscious slave in the head a few more times, emerging with blood-splattered fists.
All of the cells were closed and locked, and with that, Spyro looked down at the gored lieutenant in front of him, still choking and gagging. He grabbed Ardein by the stump of his tail, before dragging him into the middle of the hall, where the majority of the slaves could see through their bars.
"You can all spend one last night with him as he rots and chokes. Sleep well, worms," Spyro growled, before he turned and motioned Drachen and the three assassins to follow him. "Thanks you three, you can return to what you were doing before."
The three assassins bowed respectfully, before returning to the corner of the training room where they were earlier. Spyro and Drachen then made the walk back to Spyro's quarters. "I'd say that was rather successful, don't you think?" Spyro asked.
"Yeah. We managed to get them to speak, and we got quite a bit of info from them," Drachen replied. "So we're heading to Dryovell then?"
"Yes. Attack Dryovell, cause as much carnage as possible, and get King Ryo'vlon to send a letter to Cynder and the guardians for immediate backup. The rule is, only Cynder and Forzen must come. If anyone else comes back from Warfang, the king dies, and Dryovell is levelled. Forzen is also a must; if he isn't there, the king still dies, and Dryovell is levelled. Make sure that is clear. Either they follow our demands, or they lose their greatest ally. Make sure the king is kept alive until they come, and leave enough of the Dryovell troops alive for them to have not lost an ally yet. I want the threat to be very real to them, not already carried out before they get there."
"You want to leave them with a big ally?"
"If you have the time and troops to spare after capturing Forzen and killing Cynder, you have permission to leave some troops behind to slaughter the rest of Dryovell anyway. I want Dryovell gone."
"I understand, my lord."
"Now, I want you to lead the mission. Take Fa'roth with you. Feel free to take up to two members of the Dark Assassin Corps as well to help with the killing. I also want lots of fearbringers there."
"Why fearbringers specifically?"
"To apprehend Forzen."
"That makes sense. Will do. Permission to take some venomfangs as well for extra carnage?"
"Go for it. As long as you abide by my main requirements, you are free to do whatever else you want, take whatever extra troops you want."
"Including bloodlusters?"
"Why do you want to take them?" Spyro asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"We could maybe have them intercept the party on the way there; Dryovell's two days away so they'll need to stop and rest for a night. If the party contains more than Cynder and Forzen, we get the bloodlusters to pick them off, and have one of them report back to us in Dryovell to let us know they didn't uphold their end of the deal."
"Sure. I like that idea. Now, go and talk to Fa'roth and the Dark Assassin Corps about this, and I want you guys all leaving tomorrow by noon. Understood?"
"Loud and clear, Lord Spyro."
"Good. Now farewell."
Drachen gave a small bow, before turning and leaving Spyro alone. He sat down in his room with a sigh, taking in everything that had happened in the last few hours. It seemed the dark voice in his head was doing the same.
Kill Cynder, huh? You're adamant about having her dead, the dark voice muttered.
She's my greatest threat. She's nothing to me anymore. She's dead to me, Spyro thought back.
But what about the Terror of the Skies?
We've been over this. I don't desire her in that way.
You sure you don't at least want her as an ally, like you were telling me earlier?
Too risky. If I do corrupt her and revive the Terror of the Skies, I don't trust that she'll remain as the Terror forever. She's broken out of it on her own volition before, from what she told me. I don't trust her enough to know that she'll stay forever corrupted and forever loyal to me. She could break out, enough so that she'll fight back. She's much stronger than she was when she was nine, when she last broke out of the Terror's shell.
You have the Ring of Spirits. Kill her spirit and inject her body with the Terror's spirit.
What are you getting at?
Cynder. Won't. Exist. Only the Terror.
Maybe.
Maybe?! You'd pass up having the Terror on your side?!
Let me make MY OWN decisions… whatever you are!
Dark Overlord, you would be stupid to not do this.
What, so you can convince me to lust after the Terror once she's actually here? And DON'T deny it, I know you will. I have better things to do than getting back together with the dark version of my ex-wife. And don't go trying to convince me about how hot she is!
I wasn't going to, but… did you just admit it?
I didn't admit anything.
I can sense it in your soul. You believe it.
LEAVE US ALONE!
Silence filled his head as the dark voice was yanked from his mind. The Dark Overlord blinked. That last voice was one he didn't hear often, and it only existed to pull the dark voice out of his head. It was also not his own voice. The voice, despite the angry scream, was softer and didn't have any evil behind it at all. It always referred to them as 'us'; what did it mean by that? How did it pull the dark voice out of his head so easily?
What else… who else… was in his head? He had only heard it a handful of times in the last few years, but he had no clue who it was. The Dark Overlord sat there, perplexed, but relieved by the emptiness in his head.
It was just him now.
He had no idea how long this freedom would last, but he knew that the dark voice wouldn't be bothering him for a good while now. He hoped it would never return, but the Dark Overlord knew that it always did return.
The dark voice was a plague, a burden, trying to tempt him to do things that he didn't deem necessary or of his interest. Its voice was evil, distorted, and yet silky smooth. Temptation edged its voice.
He hated hearing the voice.
Particularly now. It hadn't been so much a burden over the last twelve years as it had over the last four weeks. He had enough stress as it was. First, Forzen escaped. Then, his personal slave, Tenedaris, had managed to do the same thing, somehow. Tenedaris had escaped a week and a half ago. The Dark Overlord knew that this was inspired by Forzen's escape.
The scout parties weren't able to find where Tenedaris was now. As he thought of Tenedaris, rage swelled up in his chest. He didn't care how useful Tenedaris had been to him in the past. All he wanted to do now was kill Tenedaris.
No, not kill. Torture. Break. Destroy. He wanted to hurt him in ways he had never hurt any other slave before. He wanted to destroy his body, ravage his soul, over and over and over again, bind his spirit to his gored body and leave it for a few days, before finding a new body, moving his spirit to that body, and then ravaging it. Tenedaris deserved an endless cycle of torture. So did Jaarsol for helping Forzen escape, but he didn't have the Ring of Spirits by that point to be able to torture her that way. How he wished there was a way to fish out her spirit from the afterlife and bring it back to a new body so he could do the same to her.
His anger now turned to the deceased caretaker of his son, he began to fantasise over how he would destroy her soul as an act of revenge. His thoughts went dark, thinking of countless ways he would tear open her body, make her bleed, make her plead for mercy that she would never get. She didn't deserve paradise with the ancestors. She had betrayed him and helped his most prized possession escape. Forzen was everything to his plans.
The Dark Overlord spent the next few hours wallowing in his hatred. It took a while before he decided to move on, getting up and heading to the mines to find a slave to kill. He needed to let out his anger. He found a poor slave, and spent thirty minutes in the torture chamber with them. Once he left, his entire form was covered in the slave's blood. But he felt comfort in it. As the blood dripped down his form, he felt the anger washing out of him as well, mixing with the blood and dripping down his body.
Now he had a clear mind to tackle the remainder of the day.
Ledron sat in his cell, tears spilling down his face. No one was able to sleep, not after what had just happened. The sight of his lieutenant finally breaking down into a complete mess, before getting torn open and destroyed by the Dark Overlord. He could never forget that sight. Even during his time fighting in both the Dark War and the War of Eternal Darkness, he had never seen anything so vicious before, and he had seen a huge amount of vicious, brutal scenes unfold in front of him.
He didn't have the words to describe what he saw today. It was worse than brutal. It was…
It was evil.
The wounds given to Lieutenant Ardein were not mere battle wounds, as savage as those could be. No, this was pure torture. He knew he was blessed to be in his current position in Dark Peak, where they were well treated and well fed, but reality had struck him when he saw that. Was this the type of thing that every other slave had to deal with? Was this what every other slave had to fear? It was awful.
The sights were still fresh in his mind, unable to go away, particularly since Lieutenant Ardein was still in the hall, choking and gagging and struggling to breathe from his pierced lungs. A wet, croaky moan of pure agony left his throat every now and then. Every time he would moan and cry out, a disgusting gurgle would leave his throat, and then he would return to choking and gagging.
Ledron wanted the sounds to stop. He wanted them to stop so badly. The sounds had made him so sick that he hadn't been able to eat any of his food. He expected his comrades to ask him for his food since they hadn't been given anything as per the Dark Overlord's punishment, but they sounded equally as sickened by the sounds of Lieutenant Ardein pleading for death amongst his choking and gagging. No one could stomach food right now.
Even worse was the smell coming from Lieutenant Ardein as his body rotted away. It had been there for hours now, and Ledron was sure that it would be there for several more hours until morning. He couldn't take it anymore.
To make matters even worse, he had done the unthinkable. He had sold out Warfang and Dryovell. He had given the Dark Overlord all the information he knew about Warfang's biggest ally, and now Dryovell was about to pay the price. Guilt gripped him like a vice. Shame made it hard for him to breathe.
He stood and turned to the door to his cell, looking out through the bars across to the other cells in front of him, where he could see the other dragons with their backs turned to the hall, also trying to distract themselves from Lieutenant Ardein's horrific state.
"Guys, I'm sorry," Ledron murmured.
"Ledron?" Malagre asked from the cell directly in front of him. "You okay?"
"No. I sold them out. I feel awful. I… I feel responsible for the whole thing. For everything."
"You are not responsible for everything. Selling out Dryovell and Warfang, absolutely, and I condemn you for it, but you are not responsible for what happened to Thrain and Lieutenant Ardein," Goravson said from the cell beside Malagre.
"Goravson, I don't blame him for what he did. Spyro would have torn him apart if he hadn't have said anything," Tragnar replied from the other side of the hall. "He would have torn all of us apart. That devil doesn't know the meaning of restraint or mercy. We are only alive because we have an important purpose in keeping his horrible assassin team in shape and constant practice. Fear does wonders on a dragon, and fear got the better of Ledron today. I know that feeling too well from my last beating, which was also from Spyro."
"We're soldiers. We're not meant to feel fear. We control our fear, not the other way around," Goravson replied.
"You can't possibly say you weren't afraid after watching Lieutenant Ardein get destroyed like that, particularly when we were getting threatened we would join him," Malagre exclaimed.
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Maybe you should've taken Thrain's spot!"
There was a loud slam on metal bars, and Ledron turned to look down the hall a little bit to see Thrain, pressed up against the bars of his cell, paws balled into fists from punching the bars, tears spilling down his face as he shook his head disapprovingly. Even in the darkness, Ledron could see the dark patch on his throat which was the dried blood from his voice box being torn out.
"Stop fighting, please," Vagnoll pleaded softly from his cell across from Thrain. "This isn't helping. We're soldiers. We're a squad. We're a family. We're not supposed to be fighting amongst ourselves like this."
"Please, we're slaves," Tragnar spat. "This is no life for a soldier. Living in fear, bearing scars from torture, being forced to sell out our allies, and being forced to aid the enemy's troops in training!"
"CAN WE JUST STOP FIGHTING?!" Vagnoll ordered, his breath quivering. "I just want my brothers back. I can't take doing this alone without the rest of you. I can't stand to watch us tear ourselves apart over this. What's done is done. I just want to get through another day and hope we make it out of this."
"Face the truth, Vagnoll, the war is never ending. We're too far gone. Everything is many, many times worse than it was in the Dark War. Spyro is many times worse than Malefor. We're not getting out of this. Ever."
"Don't say that!"
"Guys, enough!" Malagre snapped. "Can we at least get through tonight?! For Lieutenant Ardein."
"He's dead, Malagre," Tragnar scowled.
"No he's not. He is right in front of me. Spyro bound his soul to this body indefinitely, remember? He's very much alive, even though he should be dead. He's going through enough as it is. At least for one night, can we hold it together for him? I don't want him to see us, his squad, tearing ourselves apart while he is being tortured by his own body."
Silence overtook the squad as they contemplated what Malagre was proposing. Lieutenant Ardein's chokes and gags echoed in the dark hallway. Ledron wanted to throw up from the exceptionally awful wet gag that bubbled in Ardein's throat.
"Okay. Just for tonight. Sorry, Lieutenant," Tragnar finally murmured.
"I just want it all to stop," Ledron whimpered.
"I know. So do I, buddy," Vagnoll replied from across the room.
"It's too much. The guilt… the shame… the horror. I just… I can't take any more of this."
"Ledron, stand down!" Goravson ordered.
The shout brought him to his senses. His body had moved without his brain fully comprehending what was happening. He stood, staring out through the bars at his squad and his lieutenant, his tailblade pressed against his throat. He felt his body shaking as he finally realised what he was preparing to do.
He wanted this. He couldn't go through another night, another day, another week of this after seeing everything he had seen, after doing what he had just done. It was better off that he received punishment for his actions. He deserved death.
"I'm sorry."
"NO!"
"Ledron? Ledron!"
"He's gone, isn't he?"
"LEDRON, GET UP! THAT'S AN ORDER!"
"Goravson, that's enough!"
"He can't have just done that!"
"He did!"
"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"
Silence.
"I know tonight will be a long, hard night, but we don't need any more blood spilled tonight. Please, can we all promise each other that we will see it through to the morning? We owe it to ourselves and each other to do this."
"What if we all just kill ourselves and leave the assassins with no one to train with?"
"And leave Lieutenant Ardein all alone for the whole night to suffer alone? No way. Maybe another night, but for tonight we're staying here. Does everyone promise to do that?"
…
…
A hesitant chorus of 'I promise' came from each cell, with Vagnoll verifying Thrain's voiceless nod.
The last few scenes of this chapter really just wrote themselves lol, the last half of this came out a lot quicker than I expected. It was good to be able to go back to a Spyro-focused chapter again, as we haven't had one in Outcast yet; I thought it would be good to have, as well as using it to start off the next arc of the story. It was good being able to show how brutal Spyro had become as well, since twelve years has passed since we last properly saw him in Demonised.
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MysticFire824: Ye I need to do a bit of work with figuring out what I want with ethereal but I'll be touching on it eventually. Also I never thought of shadow being able to use telekinetic abilities, that's an interesting approach. We'll see more on Forzen + the fear element soon, we're getting close to one of the scenes I've been looking forward to a lot with this story.
Dragon of Mystery: D'varin, in case you forgot, was one of the children that Forzen grew up with, as seen in the Epilogue of Demonised. Forzen also mentions him a couple times earlier in this story. D'varin was also one of the assassins involved with the fall of Typhaar. He's had a few appearances, and he's especially a big part of Forzen's troubles very early on in his life. And yeah, Forzen really needs to just sit and talk all his trauma out. Not gonna happen for a bit tho hehe
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Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a review, and if I don't drop another chapter by the end of the year, merry Christmas and happy new year! Here's to a good 2025!