Prologue: From Sunset to Sunrise

Time moves on.

And still, as I look back at the point of deviation, I feel nothing but dread. So much time has passed, yet it still feels like the turn of fate happened mere seconds ago.

A hot air balloon traveled north over mountainous terrain, soaring through skies filled with shimmering, twisting bands of colorful light. It was being towed by a pair of burly Peace Keepers whose strong wings were primed for fighting the turbulent winds of the Cappac Mountain Range. A third dragon, emerald in color, kept pace as he flew behind the balloon. Their flight of several days would soon be coming to an end.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nestor.

I am the leader of the drakon half of the Valmaar Clan, a fire dragon colony that has prospered for hundreds of years. My beautiful mate, Rosita, is likewise the head of the drakaina. For hundreds of years, generation after generation, our clan had preserved peace within the Southern Dragon Realms.

But the worst had come upon us without warning, like a violent firestorm that not even we dragons could weather so easily.

The soilder-dragons beat their wings harder, carrying the balloon up a gently sloping mountain. There were two young dragons fast asleep in the basket and the sudden change in speed and altitude roused them. They stood, stretching their little limbs before venturing a look outside the basket.

The stony slopes were falling away, revealing another prominent series of high peaks along the horizon. The largest of them—Mt. Modon—was a horned mountain in the shape of a dragon; on the great stone dragon's head and nestled between its curving horns was a magnificent dark-stoned castle.

When we made it to the academy, I was afraid.

I was afraid of what it meant for the two talented young dragons under my tutelage, because within the academy was a dangerous and alluring secret that I myself had discovered long ago. Recent circumstances had placed me in a position in which I had no power or authorization to combat a certain method of approach. However, I am a leader, and hard decisions are unavoidable.

In the end, all things hidden will be exposed. That was why I was afraid, for the ultimate secret I spent so long hiding was on the verge of being discovered.

Power is a poisonous mistress. It provides ease and comfort, yet it can also mercilessly take away. Some dragons are good at drinking their poison. Others are completely destroyed by it.

We dragons like peace. Unfortunately, not everyone shares our way of life. There are those who like conflict. They like war. They like bloodshed. They like to pillage and conquer, ridding the earth of those who know how to wield love and mercy.

Peace can be implemented and enforced only by those who are strong. It is the most valuable treasure we dragons hoard. But a dark, unseen prominence had been on the rise and posed a threat to the current and future generation of dragons. It would have meant our eventual extinction.

It is my duty to take care of my fellow dragons, to make sure they are protected and prosperous for many more generations to come. I am pained to look back at the moment where things would forever change for our clan. Until I die, I will continue to have hope for the future.

Sometimes…for the good to prosper, the bad must have brief reign.

Spyro. Cynder. I'm sorry. I failed you both.

Despite its rocky beginnings, your relationship with one another had improved in such a short amount of time. I was comforted thinking that at least at the end of the day, you both would have each other for support. I don't doubt that you both had each other's backs all the way up into your last hours.

The Southern Dragon Realms miss you. Your friends miss you. I miss you.

But, even though you both have perished, your efforts will not be in vain. We will fight continuously for the peace of the budding generation down to the last dragon. I am sure you both had done what I asked of you and never lost your trust in one another, fighting the enemy with all you had.

All we can do now is honor your sacrifices. And sooner than later, we will see each other again.

The Cappac Mountain Range - Mt. Modon

Cynder looked across the craggy landscape, swaying her tail back and forth. The castle was nothing more than a burning silhouette against the rising sun.

"Is…that really it? The school?" she asked, excited.

"I hope it is, cuz," Spyro grumbled next to her, puffing smoke out of his nostrils. "I'm sick of this cold."

The purple dragon glanced back at Nestor. The older artisan had gotten quieter over the span of their trip.

I wonder what's wrong with him. I mean, this was his idea. Spyro thought, confused as he was annoyed.

"Landing zone, 3 o'clock," Titan called back to Nestor. "Been a while, hasn't it Nestor?"

"Not long enough," Nestor replied.

The landing zone was shaped like an emerald-cut gemstone and was carved into the monolithic hand of the dragon-mountain. As they drew closer, Cynder turned to Spyro and lowered her voice. "I'm so nervous. But I'm also…"

"Kinda excited?" he guessed. "I guess I can admit—whoa!"

The balloon had lurched, causing Spyro and Cynder to stumble sideways in the basket. "Apologies! A little turbulence won't hurt!" Gunnar cracked, as he and Titan slowed their descent and evened out. Upon landing Gunnar removed his aviator glasses, stretching his wings out wide. "Aggh! It's been a while since we've flown that far and long. Think they've got a portal home waiting for us?"

"Portal? The Headmaster's not going to be that kind, I assure you," Titan responded, peering up the long walkway weaving up the mountain slope. He inhaled deeply and then spat a purple ball of fire high into the air.

POP!

The fire exploded like a firework, sending brilliant purple tongues of flame everywhere. "Whoa!" Spyro remarked, hopping out the balloon. "How'd you do that, Titan? That was like a bomb or something!"

"A trick I learned awhile ago," Titan said with a knowing wink. "You both are likely to pick it up as well."

At that moment a magical projection of a dragon suddenly appeared before them. "Ah! Hello, hello, one and all! Nestor! Nice to see you again, it's been too long!" the shimmering golden dragon cried. "…Titan?! Is that you?! You've grown six heads since I saw you last! Who's the fellow Peace Keeper? Gunnar? Pleased to meet you too. And may I know the names of our new pupils?"

"I'm Spyro," he said.

Cynder remained silent.

"…and this is…Cynder," Spyro added awkwardly. "Um, she's kinda shy."

"No worries, no worries. I know it can be scary coming to a place you've never been to before. Well, I am Professor Pascale! I teach the Dracopology class. Sorry I wasn't able to greet you all in person, but a projection works faster than me scrambling to get down here!"

"We are several hours early," Nestor said. "Did we catch Ignitus at a good time?"

"He's still in a meeting with the Headmaster…I'm sure he still saw your signal. I can help your younglings get settled in, however, and I think Ignitus has supplies for them."

Spyro squinted. A red shape had appeared from the curves and bends of the mountain path. "Hey, who's that?"

"Ah?" Pascale looked around, pleased. "Oh, that's Flamerius! Yes, his father had to have sent him this way. Great student he is, very friendly!"

Eventually the red dragon made it to them, gasping. "H-Hi, folks! Dad wanted me to help you, professor."

Nestor smiled. "I'm guessing Ignitus is your father? You both look so much alike."

"Oh, yes sir, that's right. I get that all the time," the young dragon said bashfully, pawing at the ground. "I'm Flame...um, yeah, my parents weren't too clever when it came to naming me. So uh, I'm supposed to show you into the castle?"

"A tour sounds wonderful! And since they're early, you can take your time," Pascale said brightly.

"Totally! I've got this, professor," Flame said, hopping around and taking off. "Come on, everyone—right this way!"