IceFlame1019

SPYRO: DAWN OF LIGHT Part 4 CHAPTER 32 Tides turn, furies burn Now riddle this: is it for the heroes the waters churn? Or...shall all be amiss? “SHUT UP!!” Spyro shouted into the abyss in front of him, but it was no use – he couldn’t wake up, he was trapped in this dreamscape. Again. All he could hear was a multitude of whispers, many in other languages, but all seemingly uttering that same prophecy poem. A white landscape held him up, but only just – he was balancing on a thin leaf of rock, stretching onward for eternity in either direction but falling straight down on the sides, and all around him was a vast roiling ocean of purple power. Crashing silently yet powerfully enough to ring his ears, a tsunami wave rose up over him, yet even as it fell it faded away to another wave like a ghostly image. A massive crystal spike the size of a sun jutted up out of the ocean and gleamed brilliantly, enough to make the waves between itself and him pure blackened void. The waves of displacement crashed over him, he felt like he was on fire, yet frozen, and it was over in a fraction of a second as the storm continued while the crystal crumbled and fell into the sea. “What the hell is going on?! Stop sending me these visions and let me sleep!!” he yelled out, but there was no response. The white leaf of rock holding him aloft started to crumble and fracture under his paws. With a sudden lurch he lost his balance and cried out as he fell, but there was no ocean to catch him, just an endless vertigo into blackness. The darkness around him suddenly pulled away and he was standing on grass, but it was the wrong color. Everything was. Except- “Cynder?” he asked as he saw her pop up out of her shadow cloak and stretch, looking around. Clearly this was another vision being sent to him, but why? Compared to earlier, this felt far too real, like he was seeing something happening in the world at that very moment. Off to his right, he saw a dark plume of power rise into the sky, but she was unaware. To the left, the world suddenly split into copies, as if being viewed through a multifaceted gem, but every facet was distorted into different versions of the world, and all of them were horribly wrong. Again, she was unaware, as if she couldn’t see what he was seeing. “Cynder!” he called out on reflex, but she didn’t respond, getting ready to sleep outdoors. The world around her was both blackening and faceting itself, creeping closer and closer to her position, and a formless figure of gray suddenly leaned over her and she darted out in her Shadow Cloak, but couldn’t perceive the entity. It spoke to her and she replied, but Spyro couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t hear, but his pulse raced with pure dread. Something was horribly wrong. The world around them pulsed and he felt a terrible stab in his chest. There was an extreme tension in the air, literally from the air and ground, and he felt it to his core. This wrongness, this fear like something horrible was about to happen. She was...about to die. “CYNDER!!” he screamed out, every fiber in his body desiring to move her somewhere safe. Anywhere else. She didn’t know anything around her, why could he see but she couldn’t? She had to know! She had to be warned! But that figure in gray vanished, and even as the world around her, under her feet, began to facet and blacken into a myriad of terrible distortions, she went back into her sleeping bag and tried to go to sleep. “CYNDER WAKE UP AND GET OUT OF THERE!!” he pleaded, feeling hot tears run down his face, but the moment they splashed onto his paws and the ground around him, the entire thing stopped cold and he was in a black void again, fading into breathless gasping and the dwindling internal cringe and needling of a waning adrenaline rush. As the room around him came into focus, so did the memory of that dream vanish into a mere distant memory of...something terrible. But what was it? Flexing his paw and gulping against the dryness in his throat, the purple dragon rolled out of bed shakily, trying to stave off that awful tense feeling that had snapped him out of his sleep. He knew he’d dreamed something, everything in his body felt tensed and leaden from some sort of terrible sight, a feeling he knew all too well...but whatever it was, it was fading away fast this time rather than staying with him like other dreams had. “Maybe...just a normal dream this time…?” he muttered, daring to hope. Clutching his belly with a groan, he stumbled out into the hallway to find some cold water. Rivyera and Cyril were already up, quietly chatting about something while she played with the three little ones. At Spyro’s approach, Cyril cleared his throat. “Sleep well this time, young chap?” “No...another dream...but I don’t remember it this time.” “Well, I suppose it is progress all the same. Perhaps just a normal dream.” “Yeah...I guess. I hope...” “You’re rather raspy. Here.” Rivyera held out her paw and an orb of water appeared. “Cyril, if you would please?” Casting his icy breath onto his paw, he made a swirling flourish with his claws and then threw the power at the floor, the frosty coalescence forming an intricate bowl of ice. Taking the bowl as Rivyera filled it, Spyro found himself chugging it as fast as he could. “Whoa, dear, slow down before you-” she started, but he nearly dropped the bowl, gritting his teeth and cringing hard. “Oooowwwowowow!” “Ah yes...even the purple dragon of all elemental powers, susceptible to a brainfreeze.” “As if you aren’t,” he growled back, taking the bowl again after Rivyera refilled it for him, taking smaller sips this time. “Thanks...” “Do you need more rest?” she asked. “I...I dunno.” He withheld a burp and shook his head. “Still feeling a bit sick after that dream...I just know something was wrong, but...I don’t remember anything else, just that I woke up tense and panicked a bit.” “Mmmm...a nightmare. Considering all your stresses and worries, not unexpected.” “Indeed,” came a third voice from one of the hallways nearby. The sleep doctor came in writing some notes. “Visions and remembering them are one thing...but nightmares that can’t be remembered are more indicative of stress. Do you at all remember if you could consciously move, or navigate, or even change the things you saw by thinking about it?” “Nuh...it’s all gone, just...remember something was terribly wrong.” “Alright. Rivyera, about how much water has he consumed?” “Not nearly as much as before. Spyro, are you well after that drink?” “Yeah, think I’m good.” “Excellent,” came the doctor’s reply. “I shall monitor a bit longer just to make sure, but it seems the worst is behind us for this episode. Seems, being the operative, but we shall see.” “Might I posit a theory in lieu of Volteer...” Cyril began, then made a face at the notion. “Egh...without the prattling. Spyro admitted to his fears of losing Cynder more than once in all their time chained together. Could he potentially be reacting to her absence on her mission?” “It’s very possible.” Nodding slowly, the enormous Ape flipped through his notes, squinting at the smaller purple. “Post-traumatic stress disorders can be triggered to varying degrees by varying factors. Given how much time they’ve been spending together after the battle, it’s reasonable to assume the separation may trigger a subconscious anxiety manifesting in his sleep vulnerability. His dream fading where others have been vividly remembered leads me to believe it may indeed be a PTSD manifestation. But, again, we shall have to see. Take it easy for the day, and nap if you feel tired. Your body needs the rest and recovery in your elemental drainage.” With that he excused himself and disappeared down the hall. “Well, you heard him, Spyro. Shall I fetch Nightshade to take you to the mainland perhaps?” “What for?” “Perhaps to Avalar again to relax at the spas. He also could potentially lead you to some elemental vistas in his homelands.” “Hmmm...maybe. Though, I feel like I’d be kinda...not betraying, but...well, I told Cynder I’d go traveling with her. If I’m not here when she gets back...I’d hate to leave her waiting and wondering.” “The decision is yours, of course.” The babies started crying, Spyro wincing at the shrill noise. “Oh, no no no, no biting, you know that. Come here.” Scooping up her daughter with a single paw, Rivyera nuzzled at the little one, coaxing her to stop crying and giggle a little. “Awww…” Spyro felt his cheeks heat up at the sudden mental image of a fully grown Cynder doing the same with their future kids. A tiny, precious, innocent life and a beautiful mother. His soft sigh did not go unnoticed. “What seems to be the issue, Spyro?” Cyril asked. “Huh? Oh...n-nothing.” Even as he stared at the tiny little dragons playing with each other, that sense of peace also warred with a gut ache deep in his body...a deep-seated urgency, a far-off but imminent dread, the likes of which he’d only ever felt once – when Malefor had stepped out of that portal. What was causing it though? And why now? ------------------ “You sure they’re gonna be on this route?” Flame nodded, unusually stoic as he sat there in the shade. “Terrador and the others have blocked off other routes. They’ll be funneled down this path. You’re up when they’re in view.” “Yeah, I know...we’ve been over it several times.” “This is super important...to a lot.” “I know.” Lounging on a tree branch, Cynder stared at the cloudy sky just barely visible above between the leaves. Flame was sitting by the roots of the tree, dressed up in bandages covered in fake dried blood. “This stuff is super itchy...” he grumbled. “It was your idea.” “Stage 1...I hope this goes well.” “We might be here a while.” Stretching his wings, he sighed, straining his ears against the wind and hoping to catch a sound or scent of their quarry. “Is Spyro doing better today?” “Dunno. Hard to tell.” “He’ll pull through. With a small flash of her inventory magic, Cynder pulled out some jerky and nibbled on it. Unseasoned meat, she couldn’t risk someone else smelling a tasty snack and giving away her position. “You should...talk to Ember.” Flame gave a slow nasal sigh. “I’ve tried...quite a few times. She’s been really messed up...and I think seeing me makes it worse.” Keeping their voices low was irritating, so she just grunted in reply and fell quiet, chewing on her snack. A low, bass mooing noise in the distance made her lick her lips. Theoretically, she could dart over with her shadow, snag one of the wild steer, and keep it in her shadow storage like she’d done with the laketoads...there was a lot of succulent meat on those animals. Sadly, she couldn’t risk leaving right now, or the elemental expenditure. Sitting here and waiting was grating on her nerves. The wind shifted and the shadows faded as gray clouds obscured the sun. Damp air settled in, and presently it started drizzling. Flame groaned to himself. “Damn it...gonna make these bandages even worse.” Cynder smirked at that. “Sure you don’t wanna add another layer of discomfort and let me stain your scales with berry juice again? Pretty sure criminals would have spread your face around their networks, Mister Fire Guardian.” “Too late to do anything about it now. Besides, I’m just running distraction and interference. All the better if one of them recognizes me. We all have underground bounties on our heads.” “How much?” “Huh?” “How much are you worth?” “I have no clue! How would I know?” “You knew about the bounties, right?” “I know they exist, not their issuance. Would be a hefty sum either way.” “Bet I’m worth more than you,” she teased with a blep and a grin. “Well you an’ Spyro are more powerful so...yeah.” “Guardian’s gotta count for something though.” “Gotta make it there first...” The light drizzle kept up for what felt like ages. Cynder grumbled, finishing the last of her snack and wishing for something tastier. “Any idea how long they’ll take?” “Depends on if they challenge the blockades or just keep moving. No real telling from this point.” Scratching at himself, he sighed again. “Hey...has Spyro talked to you at all about this ‘idea’ of his for healing the world?” “Nope. Just that he wants to go exploring for a while and see for himself. I think all he has are a few loose ideas but he needs to see what’s going on to actually formulate anything.” “Eh, alright. It’s got me real curious...and worried. The last time he planned something it was big and cost him his powers.” The flicker of fear at the prospect of Spyro sacrificing his life to heal the planet made her spine run cold, and shattered her mood. Gritting her teeth, she growled and hid her face under her wing. It didn’t help that giving himself up for the planet was exactly what he’d tried to do at that final moment after the battle...she was right there with him and had almost completely lost him. Why couldn’t she stop circling back to this, why couldn’t she move on and just accept things? Flame rolled his eyes and said nothing more. Maybe he shouldn’t have made any remarks to be construed towards the purple dragon’s health. Finally, after what must’ve been hours in the gray drizzle, they heard their quarry approaching. “Move,” Flame whispered, Cynder darting away immediately with her Shadow Cloak and doing her best to repress any elemental signature given off. Down the valley trail came a large convoy of wagons drawn by monstrous beasts of burden, surrounded by remnants of Skavenger canines and quite a few Dragons, Cheetahs, Moles, and other random races and creatures. Most of them were heavily armored and armed, and others had projectile weapons, but hardly anyone was prepared for actual combat. They looked worn down and ready to collapse. From her observation point at the top of the ridge she felt somewhat sorry for them. Whatever was in the covered wagons though, that was her concern. With them looking so bedraggled, her work could be a bit easier, but she didn’t trust them not to have some Shades keeping a sensory lookout from inside those wagons. Closer they trundled and marched, until one of them caught sight of Flame napping under the tree. The caravan came to a stop as three of them moved over, arrows nocked. Flame kept his eyes closed under he felt someone poke his shoulder. “Mmnah...no more...” he mumbled. “Are you okay?” He jumped up with a yelp, wings flared and back arched. “What the- who are you?? What time is it?!” “Almost evening, kid. You shouldn’t be sleeping out here, are you okay? You’re covered in bandages.” “Yeah no duh, Sherlock, I got in a bad fight and I’ve been trying to get to Burlstone!” With an angry snarl he turned and bit at a bandage on his thigh. “Ow...” “We just came from that way, you’re not making it back. Pirates’re holding the road.” “What’s the holdup?!” called a voice from the back of the caravan. “Injured kid napping by the trail!” “Leave ‘im, we’re late enough as it is!” “Hold up!” The cat addressing Flame looked him over. “You’re that new Guardian kid. The hell is up ahead what nailed you so badly?” “Hell if I know! Some sorta- I don’t know, it had tentacles with blades and was made of this gross goopy stuff!” “And you...got away from it? How?” “Blinded it with my fire but it didn’t do much.” “How far down the trail?” “Get a move on!” came that voice again. “Threat assessment, chill your ass!” Flame rolled his eyes and then scratched at his neck, accidentally getting a claw stuck in the fabric. “Ow! Damnit...I don’t know, I just kept running until I couldn’t hear it anymore and just...I ran, okay? I stopped here cuz I was exhausted.” “Keep an eye on ‘im.” The cat motioned to his two companions, who stood over Flame with their bows still ready. Cynder was only half paying attention, she knew his script. She was already moving around between the large rocks lining the road, trying to get a good angle. Unfortunately for her, the overhead cloudiness and diffusion of the sunlight made it very hard for her to travel between shadows like this, she needed stronger contrast of light and dark or else her own Shadow Cloak would stand out. Too bad Caelos wasn’t available to alter the weather for her. “You, Mole, make sure we ain’t bein’ stalked by those rocks.” One of the burly Earth Dragons at the rear nudged an elderly Mole, his face mostly obscured by the huge metal hat on his head. “Don’t go pushin’ me around, those rocks ain’t goin’ nowhere...” Trudging along the side of the trail, Cynder saw her opportunity and slipped into his shadow as he came by the rock she was using for shade cover. This was her first test. If there was a Shade in the caravan that could sense her, they’d be smart enough to sense her right now. “Long haul to Cennektair...” “It’ll be worth the hassle. We’re gonna be sittin’ in marbled pillar houses sipping fine wine in a few months.” “A few years. We’ve still gotta sell this crap. An’ that’s assumin’ we don’t get busted.” “QUIET.” Paws came treading up to the rear as the Mole came back. “Quiet, sir, nothin’ out there. Like I said.” “Don’t smartmouth me. What’s the holdup, some busted up brat?” “It’s Flame, the Fire Guardian heir.” “The hell’s he doin’ way out here?!” “Says he was fightin’ some tentacle monster further down the path. Sounds like a Landkraken. He’s covered in bloody bandages and passed out here on the trail runnin’ from it.” The contemplative growl coming from inside the wagon had Cynder concerned. She couldn’t see whoever was calling these shots though. “Blockades forcin’ us this way, then a Landkraken. This feels like a setup. We’re goin’ back a ways, camp in that alcove, get some rock behind our backs and we’ll scout out the paths.” Landkraken? Cynder wondered. Did Flame base his script off a monster? But I haven’t heard of that one… Chancing a bit of power, she reached her shadow out under the wheels of the wagon and grabbed a rock, then tossed it as far as she could. No one really reacted beyond a susicious turn of ears from the Cheetahs. Did they not have a Shade-sensitive member? That made her job a lot easier. Not taking any chances though, she slowly worked her way up the wagon, slipping through as many shadows as she could find. There were five wagons in the convoy, and the one she was attempting to infiltrate was smaller and more luxurious, but oddly dark. She froze when she peeked out of her Cloak enough to actually see what was going on. There was a massive Shadow Dragon leaning along one side of the compartment, lounging on some very luxurious plush pillows. Opposite him was a bipedal figure in bloodstained cloak and rag garments, chained quite tightly and muzzled with rusty steel bands. Their prisoner only had a single long straw mattress to lay on, and she saw bloodstains there too, rather fresh if her nose was right. The obese Shade had a foreleg band set with many different magnetic ring keys affixed to their own slots. That was one of her five primary targets. “What do we do about the kid?” the forerunner asked, thumbing the hilt of his sword at his hip. His ears flicked irritably. Cynder got the impression he was only doing this guard job for the money. “I’m tempted to say bring him with us. Not like he can interfere with our cargo if he don’t know what we’re carryin’. If push comes to shove I got one’a those elemental collars they used to pin him for the Skavengers. He’d make some damn good ransom, but I wanna avoid any suspicion. Offer him shelter with us for the night as we back up, and we’ll poke him for any inside info if we can, but we need him outta here and on his way as soon as possible.” Good, I can catch up with him overnight. Cynder felt bad about the prisoner but she had no information on him, for all she knew he was either an innocent they were mishandling or he was a convicted murderer being transported for a bounty. Something didn’t feel right about this caravan though. Taking another testing chance, she darted out with a slightly bigger flare of her shadow ability, but there was no response. Not pushing her luck any further, she darted as far as possible while maintaining sight, keeping an eye on Flame. The fire boy followed the caravan, but was not allowed into any of the wagons. He kept up the injury act pretty damn well. Cynder rolled her eyes at the fainter memories of him getting lots of practice with that by faking his injuries to get out of training sessions. She carefully trailed them, keeping them in sight. Much as she knew they wouldn’t try anything funny around Flame, it was a fairly tense situation. The guards were incredibly wary now that the Fire Guardian protege was in their midst. The pocket in the trail wall they’d mentioned earlier was definitely a good tactical spot as well, there was a hill immediately above it for a sentry position, with rubble and rocks to hide among. Down below, the guards and their “master” made ready for the night while a group of three went down the trail, picking their way along to either validate Flame’s claim or determine a safe trail. Flame helped with starting a fire, then retired by the edge of the pocket entrance while they made a semicircle with the lesser wagons. Weaving her way down to him with the greater cover of the twilight, she settled in his shadow by his head. “Alright...like we talked,” she whispered. “I found their keys. Can’t take ‘em yet. There’s more to this caravan that I need to look into. Did they tell you where they’re going?” He tapped with his tail twice, very lightly, but she felt the disruption in his shadow. “Where they’re taking you?” Another two taps. He then feigned an itch with a growl, his tail tapping against the ground as he scratched. When he settled, she continued. “Alright. I’mma scout it out...but I have to be slow. I don’t know of any shade-sensitives yet.” Three small taps and another feigned growl. “At least your acting is getting better. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Zipping around in the gathered gloom was much easier than the murky cloud lighting from earlier. “I’m tellin’ ya, this is the last shipment. These herbs are gonna make us a fortune.” “It ain’t just herbs,” came a hissing reply. “If any of these medicines get damaged, it’s your throats on the line, got it? This is our biggest paycheck yet. Viruses are spreadin’. Folk gettin’ desperate. They’ll pay anything to get these back.” Jackpot, Cynder mused. “Not if that brat gets a read on us.” “S’far as he knows we’re just mercs escortin’ a shipment. Ain’t his right to pry.” It was a good thing she’d torn up the ground not too far from that meet-up point, but Cynder felt unease settling in her gut. What the cause was, she couldn’t determine...maybe pity for that captive? They hadn’t brought their prisoner out. It wouldn’t do her any good if that captive was shade-sensitive and managed to rat her out if she went for those keys. Their “master” hadn’t come out of the wagon either. Slipping around the guards and others doing their breakdown chores for the night, she tried to peek into the various wagons, but at least three of them were stuffed full to bursting with crates, barrels, and whatever other small or large things could fit between, including tarps, blankets, furs and such wrapped around parcels. Most of it was labeled with a language she didn’t understand. Without knowing that language she couldn’t tell what anything was...if these labels were even correct and not just some mock-ups meant to placate any checkpoint inspections. Her sense of smell was dulled in shadow mode too, so she couldn’t easily tell what any contents were...not that the obvious incense musk from one wagon could be worked around for the other contents. Why did she feel so nervous? This was barely any different from her other shadow-usage raid attempts. Best case scenario, she found a way to discern any contents, and made off with them secretly in her shadow storage and inventory magic, leaving them high and dry. Worst case scenario, they were somehow caught, but there wasn’t much any of these run of the mill mercs and thugs could do against even half of her current ability strength. Or Flame’s, for that matter, he could singe everything to a crisp in milliseconds if he needed to. So...why did she feel some strange foreboding nagging in her gut? It had to be that prisoner, she told herself as she whisked away out of the fourth wagon. It just wasn’t right leaving someone bound and trussed like that for untold time… Damnit, now she had to know, especially since it could be potential Guardian intervention grounds to permanently take these thieves offline. First order of priority was finding those herbs and medicines, but she also needed to find out more about their prisoner...and whether or not they intended to possibly use Flame as leverage or if they truly were keen on getting him out of their sight as soon as possible without conflict. That was the better case. Weaving her way between boxes in the fifth wagon, she tried to see if she could slip into any of them and attempt to feel out the contents. As luck would have it, one was a really bad box, with its slats warped with water damage. She slipped right in with no issue, finding a lot of straw and gingerly weaving her way among it like a curious little slime. Cold, round, glassy objects caught her senses. Snagging one into her shadow grasp, she darted out with it and held it up out of her cloak in the firelight coming underneath the wagon. While the language on the box labels was foreign to her, this bottle label certainly wasn’t, though the chemical nomenclature still eluded her...but she knew this fluid viscosity and color. It was an extract Rivyera often used to treat their coughs and upset stomachs. The label also read “Property of Tala Uskel Medicinal”. She vaguely remembered Tala Uskel being a medicinal research branch in Warfang...and this certainly wasn’t heading to Warfang. Cennektair was, if she remembered the hurried explanation correctly, a neutral territory during the wars that had doubled down on neutrality after the world’s fracturing, to the point of resisting any outside influence, which now made them a haven for pirates and other lawless individuals. It was also much further inland. There was no way any of this was destined for Warfang or the Free Sky territories at this rate. Pocketing it in her inventory, she moved back in and grabbed all the other bottles and tins and anything else out of that crate, then moved on to any others she might be able to inspect. Aerya had been very specific about her missing manifest – fifteen Tala Uskel shipments, two boxes of rare feathers, five crates of mushroom extracts, seventeen crates of Grand Tree herbal mixes, six boxes of concentrates from various rare plants and shellfish… she had a grocery list to verify and secure if at all possible, but if not possible, her second fallback was something that could be used for leverage as a bargaining chip to secure the cargo by trade. Just a small task, no biggie. What had Flame talked her into…? There was also the matter of that Hollonim-Kannak blend he was seeking, but if these morons had their grubby claws on it, it was likely already at whatever hold this “last shipment” was being added to. That was her real target. Only that crate was accessible, sadly, so she carefully made her way to the wagons inside the semi-circle. Obviously higher priorty. One wagon was locked tightly, and try as she might, she couldn’t really find any easy access to slip through. Her shadow cloak could only fit her through so much when she wasn’t at her full ability. The others, though, were more open, but much the same as the others – the cargo was quite well secured, with no easy entrance to the barrels or boxes. Thankfully, though, a few of the boxes were labeled in normal writing and she found a few she was looking for, addressed to Tala Uskel as well. However, they were supporting other boxes, so she couldn’t snag them and make off with them without making a scene. Someone was roasting some meat and roots outside and the smell was amazing after only eating trail rations all day. With a jealous gulp to refocus herself she made her way over to the last wagon, peering in. That huge Shadow had fallen asleep, but their prisoner was sitting up on his knees, still obscured by his robes, but she heard a very faint, deep voice muttering under his breath. Occasionally he dipped his head a few times with his chanting, slow and deliberate. Was he...chanting something, or was he praying, maybe? With the captor asleep, she could perhaps take the keys, but that would put Flame under suspicion. He also wasn’t about to start divulging information about their prisoner. Worming her way along the shadows, she camped out under the wagon to listen in on any other conversations. “...yeah I miss that, honestly. Them’s good huntin’. Didn’t get into merc work ‘til I was about eight. Damn dragons took our land.” “Had a girlfriend when I was eight. Forced marriage, but I liked her. Didn’t like me, none. Stole the family heirlooms when we were almost of age to make it official, robbed us blind, vanished. Village got good support, but...we were ruined. Had ta’ take up this crap...can’t escape it now.” “Yeah...not like we can atone for all the crap we do though. Someone’s gotta pull them strings.” “But stealin’ medicines? This is real low. That last scalepox rush nearly jumped species. If it takes out the dragons and moves to us...we ain’t gonna have a chance, even with all this medicine. It’s all formulated for them scalies.” “Don’t I know it. But money is money, and money moves the world. Don’t got money, don’t got nothin’.” “Gonna buy my way outta this if we don’t get caught...sick’a the stress of watchin’ over my damn shoulder.” “Speakin’ of watchin’, prisoner shift in a few.” “Oh come on- that’s not the lot we drew.” “Yes, it is. It’s been hours now. Karmack’s not on his rotation but the old fart’s asleep.” “So make him take the double shift for slackin’ off.” “Can’t. They’ll skin you for shirkin’ it just as much as they’ll skin him for abandoning post.” “Stupid...” There was a string of expletives Cynder had never heard before. “The hell are we cartin’ a prisoner for anyway? Shows up in some backwards territory, arrested for magic usage? There are mages walkin’ around in broad daylight for crap’s sake...” “He’s wanted for questionin’, and we ain’t doin’ it.” “At Cennektair? No officials.” “They’ll be there...it’s just there’s no laws.” “...Fine, whatever.” Shuffling feet blocked the fire from her view. “The hell’s Karmack at anyway, gonna beat his ass… The hell kinda magic did this guy use to get arrested, anyway?” “Element bendin’. Parlor tricks. Mundane stuff. Y’know how those backwater tribes are. Scared stiff of an offcolor feather, buncha superstitious idiots.” Cynder growled. That clearly wasn’t the whole story, authorities wouldn’t want to question someone for parlor magic stunts. But, it was all she had for now. The other guards were too busy keeping an eye out, or playing some sort of card and dice game by the campfire. A few were sleeping until their shifts. Scooting around the camp to Flame, she found him asleep too. Well, damn, but also of course he would. He was just there to relay her findings and mobilize the group if he found reasonable doubt. A mistreated prisoner, sadly, might not have been enough doubt. She felt terrible though. Nothing could be done until Flame broke away from the group, and that could be tomorrow, could be a week down the road if they actually did want to use him for bargaining...or worse. There wasn’t a good place for her to snooze, and she didn’t yet know if they did morning inspections on the wagons, or any sort of inspection schedule, so instead she zipped along as fast as she could down the southern trail they’d met Flame on, and past the meeting point, chasing the scouting party. Catching up with them easily, she stayed in her shadow cloak to listen in on them. “Landkraken...” That cheetah that had addressed Flame first spat on the ground, thankfully nowhere near her. “Well-placed arrow and anything dies. Surprised that Temple brat had a rough time of it.” “We’re pretty far down. If his recount is right, we should be coming up to it soon.” Their Mole companion shouldered a rather heavy-looking rifle. “Some gunpowder, nice bright fireball, and a faster-than-sight spray of pellets...any problem’s gone. No Landkraken’s gonna survive this souped-up baby.” “Yeah yeah, how you do love to rag on about your modifications to that metal stick. Should’ve just used it on that damn mage and been done with it.” “Waste’a pelletblock, that’d be. These are custom drop-forged birds. Dense, spiky, and steeped in earth power. Takes me a week ta’ make a block. I ain’t wastin’ it on some prisoner of war.” “He ain’t a war prisoner. The Triad wants him. His magic’s unnatural.” “Unusual magic ain’t a crime.” “No crime, dumbass, they just want him. That power can be put to better use.” That made Cynder’s blood run cold with fury. Whoever this “Triad” was, wanting someone’s power was bad news in her book, any day. “Hey...okay, this...uh...” Their lantern light fell over deep, jagged ruts in the roadside, trailing quite a ways into the field to the east, where there were massive blast marks and scorched areas and a few shards of glassed sand strewn around like tornado wreckage. The trails led further northeast. After a moment or two of staring in surprised stupor, their leader knelt down and used the light to inspect the road and the damage. “Okay...kid wasn’t lying, pawprints here, wide stance and there’s a heat scorch cone here...” Cynder couldn’t help but silently giggle to herself as she remembered herself and Flame acting all this out earlier to stage the scene. “He ran, there’s dried blood here on the ground...” Crouch-walking and sniffing a little, he avoided the tracks but kept within range of the damage, inspecting one of the large, deep ruts. “Yeah, still smell blood here. Dried in the sun but wetted with this fog rollin’ in. This thing might be back if it smells this again.” “So...um. How...how big are we talkin’ here? These...gouges are huge.” “Yeah...but it fled northeast. We got hella lucky. That kid probably saved us, actually. If he directly blinded it, it retreated to its lair, wherever that is. We’re gonna hafta doubletime it tomorrow and get past this area.” “How big are we talkin’, sir?” “...ain’t never seen one this big. Might be a Fracture Mutant.” “The hell’s that?” “Do your damn homework, idiot. Planet fractured, lotsa escaped power?” “So it’s not one’a them villains like Ripto’s doin’?” “Who knows anymore.” Getting up and brushing his damp paws on his jerkin, he growled. “I don’t like this. Don’t care why Flame’d be out here or any Temple brat, but runnin’ into a Landkraken this huge...no wonder his powers might not’ve done much other than blind it. Could be a record-breaker size...but that’s hella dangerous.” “Yeah, let’s get back and get movin’, unless ya think we should hunt it down and blast it with your rifle?” The Mole shook his head, his heavy mining hat almost falling off. “If Flame couldn’t blast that with his ridiculously powerful fire magic, these might bounce off. I ain’t never heard of a Landkraken that powerful. Almost feels fake. They never get that big...unless Talir’s right and it got mutated.” “Alright, turnabout, we’re goin’ back. Once we’re back, gather your crap. This is my last job, screw this if Fracture Mutants are gonna be out rampant like this.” Without further question they started jogging back. She easily beat them on the return, wanting to see how this would play out...and wanting to get a closer look at their captive. She couldn’t feel any magic or elemental signature, but any features about him were obscured in what she now identified as a more traditional magister robe...just torn and dirty, and bloody in spots from his abuses. Like some of the older sects of mages, he was entirely clothed, even his bound limbs, but instead of cloth, he appeared to be wearing a close-fitting fine mail weave. Any racial features were still obscured. He was still chanting, whether it was magic or prayer she couldn’t discern at all, but she felt no accumulating magic so...maybe it was a prayer? Or a silent curse on his captors, perhaps… but if he knew magic enough for this “Triad” to want him, how was he only trussed in normal iron clasps and chains? Any magic practitioner worth their spells could easily make short work of it, and these weren’t laced with anything power-retardant either. Hell, she didn’t even need keys at all, just a manifestation of her claws from her cloak and she could pop it open with a small twist. Was he...here on purpose, maybe? During his chanting, he shifted a bit and gave a pained groan. She could see his body tense up under his robes. He was in a lot of pain. Prisoner or not, this wasn’t right. Cursing having to wait on anything, she crept away to listen for their return report. “Master’s not gonna like being woken up...” “Tough crap, it’s his orders.” Marching up to the wagon, this ‘Talir’ rapped loudly on the frame, their leader snapping awake with a loud snarl. “Sir. Scouting report. Your orders.” “Yes yes, shut up and let me sleep.” “We’ll need to get moving by first light. I verified the Temple brat’s story. Landkraken damage...and it’s massive. This thing ain’t natural.” I’ll have to ask Flame what the hell a Landkraken actually is, why haven’t we heard of these before? she mused to herself. The big brute yawned and stretched, his key bangle jingling harshly. “Alright, whatever. Get your rest and mobilize them at dawn then.” “And Flame?” “Who cares, bring him with us or whatever...he blinded it once, he can do it again.” Talir cast a look at their prisoner, but Cynder couldn’t read his expression. With that, the cat ducked away to rearrange the guard shifts and get them mobilized for first-light moveout. There wasn’t much else for her to do but try to catch some rest. Question was, where? She and Flame hadn’t planned that far yet, and the dummy was fast asleep now. Darting away, she zipped through the darkness and settled down by some rocky outcrops not too far from their staged “Landkraken” destruction. Taking out her blanket and a small sleeping tarp, she bunched up the blanket for cushioning, then did a few stretches to work out the soreness of having to stay in her Shadow Cloak for so long. “Ow...” Food was in short order as well, the black dragoness snagging some fruit from a grove of trees nearby. As she snacked, she let her mind wander and try to wind down from all the excitement of the day. “So...they have some sort of framed pirsoner who they’re planning to exploit...they have a crapload of stolen goods...if only my powers were back to normal, I could just cloak all their wagons and run away and be done with it all. But...unfortunately, that might put their main base on high alert and we’d likely lose access to whatever’s in there...” With a soft grumble, she shook her head. “No, stay on task, we don’t need to nab the shipments directly...we need a bargaining chip.” Part of her was tempted to suggest using the prisoner, but she shook her head at that and snarled. Capturing him only to give him back wasn’t the best idea by any means. Breathing some of her Poison breath, she gathered it along her claw, watching it sizzle and spark as she formed it into an arrow, then some sort of worm shape, then sighed as she shook her paw and dispelled it. Her paw moved back to feel around her neck. Yep, still warm and a bit itchy at the bases of her spines. Was it her imagination or were there some more pronounced bulges there too? Her scales didn’t hurt...not yet, anyway. Would she have soft flowing crests like the other girls? Or stiffer crests like the boys and Ember? Would her spines stay, or would they...fall off? That was such an odd thing to think about...shedding spines like a deer’s antlers or something. Thankfully they weren’t fully connected to her vertebrae, she could flex them as needed...but the idea of someone hurting themselves on her, or her hurting them by accident...it haunted her. Her primary and cheek horns were bad enough. How did Neves deal with having an entire spinal ridge of spines anyway? Had Shimmer ever been pricked by them? Rubbing her forehead, she sighed heavily. Too much self-doubt...as usual. No, she needed to focus on what needed to be done here. If they didn’t get those supplies, medicines couldn’t be made in time. They were already deeply reaching for time as it was. “Five targets…damn, I’m so hungry. Okay, so...that set of keys, their completed manifest, their communication method, their Master’s name, and their map of their base. Stage 1...make them regroup and doubt the venture, give me time to check their cargo, collect info. Stage 2, follow but make them nervous. They’ll slip up more information if they’re scared, and we hope for more information on the inside. Stage 3, infiltrate their main base...identify and verify...” A loud, long yawn broke her focus and she rubbed her eyes. “Screw it, I need sleep...too much shadowing...” As she slid into the protective tarp and snuggled against her blanket, she paused. Something felt...off. A brief flash of a watchful presence practically boring into the back of her head. Looking around sharply, she found no one nearby. Her eyes went black as she extended her shadow senses, but there was nothing out of the ordinary to pick up on. The night felt less comfortable and more creepy now, isolated as she was. Until something stirred to her senses just as she was starting to fall asleep. Run, child… She felt like she knew that voice from before, years ago, someone familiar in her past, yet she couldn’t dredge up the memory in the flash of panic at how close the voice had been. Right next to her. Phasing out of her sleeping gear immediately she spun around, but found no one, sensed nothing. You must flee, you are in grave danger… “Who are you…?” she whispered. You stand on the edge of fate’s knife...Flame can handle himself. You must flee to Cennektair and finish your mission. “I asked who are you? Identify yourself if this is so important!” But I have...I’ve given you my name. Can you not hear it? It’s All she heard was a low whisper garbled by many other voices suddenly intruding on her. Shaking her head, she snarled. “What am I fleeing from then? Give me a solid reason.” Do not involve yourself with “...Wiiiiith...what?” But the voice never answered. “Cheh...cryptics every time. Screw off and lemme sleep.” Sleep would not come easily though, not with that scare and adrenaline rush. Try as she might, she couldn’t get comfortable again, not with the anxiety and doubt wracking her mind. “So you can’t bother Spyro, so you come to bug me, is that what the game is? Keep us unstable while we’re working on helping others?” she grumbled to the nothingness. “Wish the Chronicler would whisk me away for some guidance.” Nothingness was her response. In fact, it was eerily quiet. Cynder peeked out of her sleeping bag to find that she was, in fact, not in her bag at all. Warm, smooth stone supported her amid a sea of ethereally dark skyscape colors, a beautiful night in all directions dotted with foreign stars twinkling between floating chunks of temple ruins floating in the eternal expanse. She knew this place. She and Spyro had spent innumerable hours training here with their elements that one time. “Hello?” she called out, standing up. “Why am I here?” “Indeed, a question I ask myself as well,” came a voice that was familiar, yet not the Chronicler’s voice she remembered. It was only the voice though. “I have not called upon you, yet here you are. Did you call upon me instead?” “Uh...maybe as a half-assed request out of frustration?” “Cynder...” There was a warm smile in that voice, and a sense of relief. “Oh young one...I am truly glad to see you safe.” “...Safe? Was I...not supposed to be?” she asked warily. “This is dire indeed. What prompted you to seek my aid?” “I...heard a voice. It felt...vaguely familiar, like someone I might have trusted long ago. It was telling me to abandon Flame on our mission and complete my end, that I was in ‘grave danger’ if I didn’t move.” “Mmmm...perplexing indeed. You are technically not supposed to be here...yet here you are after an encounter. Something dire is moving in the background for this to happen.” “Dire? You’ve said that twice.” “Yes...things are coalescing despite the quietude. You must prepare yourself and the others for a fallout...though I cannot see what. My vision has clouded.” “But...you’re the Chronicler!” “I chronicle the fate of all who are living...but something has arisen that is casting all the patterns of choice into a cloud of fractals and chaos. Alas, I am swamped in work repairing the books. I am unsure if I am seeing the past, present, or future at any given point with this unusual phenomenon.” Cynder’s pulse ran cold at the implication. “You sound...different, too, and I can’t see you.” “You are not allowed to, I’m afraid, and I can only bend my office so much. But...it is so very good to see you again, even if for this brief moment, young one. And I cannot begin to explain how proud I am of you children.” There was happiness, yet sadness in that voice, and it sounded so incredibly familiar, yet however much niggling for memory there was in her mind, it would not come to the fore. “As for your situation...I see it now. I cannot explain, as it would violate my office, but the voice speaks true, Cynder. Something is nearby. I cannot see what it is, but something lies in wait along the thread of your immediate fate. Something...that could alter the world itself.” “...Why me, exactly?” “I could not say. Why anyone, for anything? But there are choices from the past that can be contained no longer in their effects on the world.” “If I can’t know what to look for, can you at least tell me what to do? Should I go, or should I stay?” There was a low growl of contemplation, and a shudder ran down her spine. That growl, she knew it so well, but from where?? “You were brought here for clarity from a temptation from without the world, that much is certain, but I cannot ascertain yet if the voice you heard was friend or foe. And you don’t have enough information to go on to make a decision...most likely by design.” “Something was attacking Spyro and talking to him while we were at the Gryphon world.” “Yes...I cannot intrude on another’s story, but there is a commonality behind all this.” Something Spyro had mentioned before came to mind and she sat down, her tail curling around her paws with her uncertainty. “Chronicler…? Spyro says he thinks the souls of evil dragons have poisoned the world much as the souls of good dragons nurture it...is that true? Are we...maybe hearing temptations from the strengthened wills of those before us?” That contemplative growl again. “That, young dragon, is one consternation I have been tasked to investigate. I do not know for certain. The voices appear in various records, but a source has not been ascertained, as I mentioned before. I can only urge you to follow your heart. Yours is good, despite your troubled past, and your instinct has been keen, even if you feel misguided by your lack of principle compared to Spyro. Where the senses are tricked, follow your heart to the best of your ability. That is, unfortunately, all I can advise on the matter...but I do hope it is enough. Perhaps we will meet again soon enough if these situations are dire enough to overlap your consciousness into my realm for clarity like this.” The area around her began to fade to blackness and she felt light-headed yet heavy. “May the Ancestors look after you...” the voice trailed off as she lost herself and then suddenly snapped awake in her sleeping bag. Looking around carefully, she found herself alone yet again. No ethereal plane, no voices. Just a silent, boding pensiveness in her chest, indecision gripping her. What could have caused her to have a visitation with the Chronicler, if he had not summoned her directly? _____________________

SPYRO: DAWN OF LIGHT Part 4 CHAPTER 31 Stars stretched onwards to infinity, letting off colorful gleams like spinning jewels in the vast darkness. Great galaxies spun serenely past. Spyro watched a green comet barrel past a star, jetting a huge, wondrous tail on the solar wind. He felt like he could hear some sort of ambient, abstract humming tune coming from every planet and star that swooped past him. Where was he? It felt like a dream and yet not. Some sort of vision again? A familiar blue and green and yellow orb came charging into view, flying in circles around its sun with its sibling planets. He knew this one – his own home world. But, as it came more fully into view with its twin moons, he saw something...strange. Rings of land chunks caught in a wavering field of spatial distortion. The lands, oceans, even the skies blown apart and rising above one another. A planet caught in the middle of an explosion, yet teeming with life. The aftermath of his attempt

Artificial sunlight poked Cynder’s eyelids and she groaned, rolling over and then batting at the nest of blankets to find Spyro absent. “Huh…?” she grumbled, yawning. “Thought he needed more sleep...” “It’s almost noon already,” came Paradi’s voice nearby, Cynder lifting her head and smelling roasting meat and berries. The old Gryphoness was back to polishing the crystal orb with one of her feathers while curing some meals to put away in storage. “Spyro went off to the training arena again.” “Sonuva...” she groused, stretching and yawning wide. Pyra woke up from the disturbance and flitted over to rest on Cynder’s head, fluttering her wings. “He needs to relax, not train.” “I don’t think he’s training.” “Huh?” “Go check on him and see. He had a spark of an idea in his eye.” “Are we...expecting any more storms today?” “Not so far as I can detect. And I used to be the castle weather specialist.” She motioned with her wing to the table in the cavern foyer. “Got some

SPYRO: DAWN OF LIGHT Part 4 CHAPTER 29 “This should finally work...” Volteer grunted, glaring at the portal frame. Breathing electricity sharply across the frame, there was a shower of sparks and the field flickered, then fizzled out again. “Of all the- I- what even- how-” “Still flustering on that frame?” Cyril asked as he rounded the corner into the chamber. “Perhaps a break would be advisable.” “I can’t shake the sensation we are rapidly losing temporal lenience for affirmative action...” he growled back, going over a scroll of calculations. “As if something or someone is actively opposing us. And this anomalous occurrence did not activate until...the vile one...was defeated.” Cyril shook his head. “Are you implying Malefor is affecting the Convexal passages from beyond the grave?” “Malefor, or some other evil entity bound to his ruse. The operations should be correct in application by all approaches, but still we are denied required intradimensional

SPYRO: DAWN OF LIGHT Part 4 CHAPTER 28 Paradi fluttered her wings as they walked back to the palace. Or, rather, a half-jog, half-walk, with how excitable she was. “So utterly fascinating!” she kept repeating to herself in different ways. The two dragonflies were clinging to her back, confused by the interruption to her original plans for powering them up. Spyro and Cynder were keeping up with her, but feeling a little anxious about what her excitement could mean. Passing through the cave to the castle courtyard, she finally turned to them with a beak-gape grin. “I simply must relay this to the others! This is pivotal, monumental- we may finally be on the brink of piecing critical history loss together once more!” “Ooohhhh...crap...” Cynder squeaked, producing the cloth bag with the book she’d taken from the library. “Craaap, this wasn’t supposed to leave the castle property, Nirva’s gonna be so pissed!” Paradi smirked and shrugged with her wings. “No she won’t. I

SPYRO: DAWN OF LIGHT Part 4 CHAPTER 27 While preparations to escort the young cat girl to the Temple safely were underway, Flame sighed to himself outside on the “ground” level of the glacier, overlooking the ocean. It was a ring of sandy ice grains rolled in cold ocean water against the freezing ice formation. Small dunes from more aggressive waves gave it a somewhat hilly appearance, but everything was a soft white or pale icy blue translucent color in the growing moonlight. “Never really stopped to look at ice before like this...” he murmured. “This is really beautiful in its simplicity. It all looks so clean.” It was also bitingly cold, but he still had the benefit of whatever protective magic was warding off the cold here. Clenching his paws to rid himself of the creeping chill dulling his sense of touch, he looked at his paw in the moonlight and flexed his toes a few times. It was nice to get out and so something more sporty, for sure, but he also still