Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She screamed. Oh, how she screamed. Her shrill howling was like music to his ears as he raked his long, blood-stained claws across her once earth-green back. The screams were filled with despair, of failure.

She was so close to finally escaping. The exit loomed just a few pawsteps in front of them; she felt like she could almost touch the beautiful night sky as she held her right paw out to it. Just a few more steps and she could have made it. Just a few more. But now, she was going to die and she knew it. The pain was unbearable; she could feel every drop of red blood spilling out of her body, covering her green scales.

Her back was bare as bloodied stumps remained where her wings had been, with large claw wounds streaking down her back to redecorate it. Her tail had been sliced off from using it to try and attack her assailants; the clubbed tail lay a few metres behind her. Her left foreleg was bent backwards so she couldn’t run.

Tears streamed down her face, and now all she wanted to do was escape her pain. She begged and pleaded to be rid of it; it was too much for her.

The dragon on top of her chuckled, raising his crimson-coated claws out of the dragoness’ flesh, tearing another howl from her throat. The shriek, hoarse and broken, soon gave away, and she could scream no more; she had destroyed her voice screaming, and her lungs were struggling to support her screams.

She continued to fight for breath, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream as she inhaled and exhaled hoarsely, saliva dripping down her jaws and mixing with her tears as they dripped onto the ground together.

Her torturer chuckled once more, digging the claws of his right paw into her flank, before rolling her onto her back so her stomach now faced him. He pulled his claws out of her flank before clawing slowly at her stomach, spraying blood and guts everywhere. He raised his claws out of her, seeing a small strand of intestines that he had severed now sitting between his claws. He twirled it in his claws like a fiddle toy, and it filled the dragoness with unease seeing her internal organs used like a plaything.

He then made a bored, disgusted face, before throwing the intestine to the side with a sickening squelch. It landed on the face of a nearby slave, who, like many other slaves that had been working in the room, was watching the scene unfold before him with horror. The slave let out a horrified shriek as he shook the intestine off his face, before bolting away.

The dragoness’ assailant didn’t register the slave running off in the background, his sights only focused on her. He placed a strong forepaw on her chest, pinning her to the ground. “You know, you risked a lot pulling the stunt you pulled, Jaarsol,” he snarled, baring jagged blood-stained fangs that had torn her wings off. “You let him go. You set him free! I was finally going to have him join the rest of his friends and fulfill his greater purpose, but you decided to stop doing your damn job! You decided to help him escape!”

Jaarsol shuddered, having never seen him with so much rage ever in her life. It was terrified, especially with her blood splattered all over his body, and knowing that so many parts of her had been cut off and thrown to the side around her. But, she remained strong, staring at her assailant directly in the eyes with a strong gaze.

“You don’t scare me. I… I-I-I d-did what was right. That’s all that matters,” she croaked, her voice barely recognisable from the damage her screams had caused it. “And if I d-d-die for doing what’s right, then that’s how it’s m-meant to be. My mate’s mindset was the same, as you know, you murderer. At least I’ll… g-g-get to see him again when I die.”

The dragon standing above her scoffed. “Not before you suffer, my dear.”

He thrust her claws into her eyes. Her back arched and her jaws opened as she tried to scream, but nothing more than a croak left her throat. Her vision went dark as searing pain filled her eye sockets, feeling gushes of warm blood flood over her face. He removed his claws from her eyes, leaving puncture marks in them as they stared sightlessly up at the dragon.

His laughing reached Jaarsol’s ears; it was the most chilling, sadistic sound she had ever heard. “Is this what your mate would have wanted, Jaarsol? For you to disobey me and end up in this… bloody mess? For you to betray him, as well as the one you were meant to care for after you volunteered to?” he scowled in sadistic chortles. “I could see the look of betrayal in his face when you volunteered. He became a different dragon after that, filled only with fantasies of escape, before I killed him myself.

“And now I see you, having been driven to the same madness that he fell into. Normally I wouldn’t care, but in doing so, you also let my most prized possession go. And so because of that, your suffering won’t end. I will keep you hanging alive by a thread, trapping your soul in your body, until I have reduced you to a red, bloody pulp, and then I will give it up and send it to your mate, where he will shun you and condemn you for your actions against him! You will suffer for all eternity!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that he’ll condemn me,” Jaarsol spat.

With a roar, he grabbed her arms firmly. Slowly, he twisted them backwards, sending agony shooting through her bones. He let go and then moved to her forearms, also twisting them backwards at an agonisingly slow rate. She felt every crack and snap of her bones.

She was caught off guard as suddenly pain seared through her legs as he sliced them off. She hated not being able to see anything; she was left unable to anticipate where the fresh pain would come from, not being able to see the monster standing above her move to different parts of her body.

She felt her spirit trying to leave her broken, mutilated body, but with the sound of a low chanting, she felt it stay firmly within her body. At the very least, she knew he was true to his word; now it just meant that she was supposed to endure even more pain than she needed to.

A tailblade shot through her midsection, again and again, stabbing and hacking at her chest and stomach. She felt her lungs filling with blood as he cut through them, and she stopped being able to breathe. The sensation of drowning in her own blood was a horrible one, and she wanted all the more for her spirit to be released.

But the chanting started again, and her spirit remained contained in her body. She tried to fight for breath, but it was just the bubbling of blood in her lungs that she could feel. It filled her entire mind; the sensation of remaining alive to continue struggling for breath long past her death was more horrible than anything she had experienced so far, so the rest of her assailant’s attacks on her were barely registered by her. She thought she could feel her tongue pulled out and her horns sliced off, but that was the extent of it.

Jaarsol lost track of how much time she had remained lying on the floor, long past when she should have died, still alive and drowning in her blood, unable to see, feel or hear anything. Her senses had all left her.

He doesn’t know that I’ll live in constant suffering, she thought. Kyoren still loves me; I believe it with my entire spirit. I know he’ll forgive me and continue to love me. He’s always stood firm on the notion of doing the right thing, and I believe I’ve done that. I know he’ll be proud of me for doing that, for sending that young one out into the world to find meaning in his life. I may not have escaped, but I’m so glad I helped him leave.

You have no hold over me now, Spyro.

Burn in hell.

With that, she felt Spyro’s hold on her spirit be released, and very quickly, the pain began to subside. Her spirit left, and all that remained was a gory, broken vessel, lying on the ground, completely unrecognisable and unidentifiable.

It had been twelve long years since the fall of Naar’voth, and since then, the attacks had become more spaced out and irregular. It had eventually given Cynder the chance to train everyone up a lot more, and to be able to finally lead her own sieges on Dark Peak, to which she had finally managed to escape with a few prisoners. There was still a rather high death count from these missions; it was inevitable due to the immense strength of Spyro’s army. Her own army knew what they were signing up for.

There had unfortunately been other new advancements amongst Spyro’s army: there were a lot more spies around, sentient dark dragons that were able to shapeshift and blend into regular draconic society, and there was now a new subsection of his army called the Assassin Corps, a group of corrupted dragons, similar to what Malefor had done to Cynder, that went out to take on many missions, that often involved killing people of power.

There was constant fear among Warfangians about these two; it was hard for anyone to trust whether one of their friends could be a spy, or if their new guardians would get targeted by the Assassin Corps, leaving them without guardians once more.

It had taken two years after Naar’voth for the guardians to return from their training at the White Isle, and Cynder had been extremely thankful for their return. It was a hellish two years for her, having to put the needs of all of Warfang first, not just her army. She had also needed to make some diplomatic missions to other draconic cities to try and get alliances to help them fight against Spyro. Some had failed, but many had been a success, and so almost entire populations of cities had moved to Warfang to accommodate the armies moving across—everyone else moved because it was incredibly pointless to leave a city standing defenseless without an army, plus they all believed there was strength in numbers, and with Warfang’s population starting to get quite low, it was refreshing to see many large cities join with them and fill the walls of Warfang once more. Of course, she hadn’t even gotten to every city, as the Dragon Realms were full of many, many large dragon cities, and many more smaller towns and villages.

The return of the guardians was especially interesting, as they had changed drastically from when Cynder had first met them two and a half years prior. They had matured significantly, and she could tell they were absolutely ready to take on the huge task that was being the guardians.

Ash, the new fire guardian, remained the goof he was and liked to lighten up a situation as best as he could, but he absolutely knew when the time to be mature was, which he had grown a lot in.

Torialis, the earth guardian, was polite and very mature as he always had been. Despite being the youngest, he was quickly appointed the head guardian due to his confidence and ability to lead the other older guardians. He had even gotten much more muscular after his training, but still remained skinnier than Frélix, the ice guardian.

Frélix was quite heavy and bulky, being the oldest of the four. He was quite neutral most of the time and very rarely smiled; he was also the one who would call Ash out on his goofy self, although deep inside, he was thankful for the distraction when the time called for it.

Lagenon, the lightning guardian, was, unlike Volteer before him, pretty quiet and collected, always thinking before he spoke, but was quick to act when he needed to. He and Ash had a close respect for each other, and would sometimes bicker in a friendly tone, much to Frélix’s chagrin, however there had been some times where Lagenon had genuinely lashed out at Ash. He had also lashed out at the other guardians before on the occasion, and quickly soon realised that Lagenon had a bit of an anger problem, something she was all too familiar with, as she had developed her own anger issues over the past few years.

Despite their few issues, the guardians seemed to be getting along way better than the previous set of guardians did in their first years—Terrador had told her and Spyro some of the stories way before the War of Eternal Darkness had begun, and the stories were not pretty. The guardians had seemed to settle into their job fairly well too; she could tell it was hard on them, but she figured Ignitus had prepared them well for it. She also worked pretty closely with them on many occasions, and had gotten to know each of them personally. It didn’t take long before she knew the current guardians as well as the previous ones, probably even more so.

Immediately upon their return, the guardians had thanked her with heavy emotion for stopping Armageddon. She herself had been brought to tears by their emotion. She had always known that it had been a close call, but hearing of their perspective on it from the White Isle of all places made it extra clear to Cynder just how close they were to the end of the world as they knew it.

It was hard to think back to Armageddon; it still brought her to tears. She thought she had been through her fair share of trauma and was used to it, but Armageddon topped everything she had ever been through. And it hurt knowing that millions of others were dealing with the same trauma, especially those that had been possessed by Naar’voth. Many of the possessed dragons had shied away from society as the Warfangian citizens began to file back in after the evacuation. Their social isolation had lasted for months on end.

Cynder had noticed the time it took for all her friends to begin to return to regular social life: three months for Vetar, seven months for Apata and Freeze, a whole year for Aerus and Pyron, and eighteen months for Muras.

The purple dragon had taken it the worst out of everyone. Even after returning to society, he had mainly spent time with Aerus, trying to sort out their trauma together. They had both started out extremely cautious of Cynder, but Aerus had since begun to open up to her once more. Muras on the other hand, while he was able to talk to her a bit more, he was still very cautious of her, even after twelve whole years.

Vetar and Apata had opened back up to Cynder quickly, as they spent the most time together due to the Warfang Army. Pyron and Freeze were in between the two groups in their rate of somewhat-recovery, but Cynder hardly ever saw Pyron around. Even Freeze was often unsure of how he was doing.

Warfang still remained in very dark times, and Cynder was always worried for what would come next.

Cynder groaned, opening her eyes to the sunlight of the new day shining through her window into her face. With another new day came even more uncertainty. This had been Cynder’s life for the last twelve years, and while she hated the reality of it, she had come to terms that it was just reality for her now.

She yawned, getting up as she stared out the window towards the sunrise. It was her first day off in about two years, and she was looking forward to not needing to focus on the army for the day. However, she knew that her work wasn’t finished, even on her day off. She had duties to her friends.

Any ounce of spare time she got was often checking in on her friends and her brother to make sure they were okay. They were all still healing together, and they had a lot of healing still left to do, even after twelve years.

Today she wanted to check in on Muras; it had been over a month since she had last seen him. He’d had another episode of isolation where almost no one had seen him. Aerus had seen him once, but according to Aerus, Muras wasn’t doing too well.

It upset her to see Muras like this. Armageddon had destroyed him, and she almost didn’t recognise him anymore. He was so broken and discouraged, so sad and quiet. He had gotten better, but about a year ago he started spiraling again, and this last month had been the worst of it so far.

She was met with many greetings and happy faces on her way towards Muras’ house. As always, she responded with a smile and a slight nod. She took it upon herself to do the best she could to look happy and confident; she knew that a discouraged leader meant a discouraged city. While she was no longer the leader of Warfang, she had been forced to lead it for a long two years after Logron’s death, straight after the end of Armageddon, and so many people in Warfang still saw her as a leader. Even though she was just the leader of the Warfang Army now, she still wanted to be the leader that many other people still saw her as and looked up to.

Eventually, she got to Muras’ house; it wasn’t too big or fancy, but it housed him well and did everything it needed to. He had moved into his new home about a year after the new guardians returned; it hadn’t felt right sharing the Warfang Temple with them, and he also just wanted his own space.

Cynder knocked on the door. No one answered. She knocked again, much harder this time. Once again, there was no answer. “Muras, are you home?” she called, but once again there was no response.

She hoped that Muras was just out with Aerus or something, but she suddenly heard the faint sound of sobbing. Cynder cursed to herself, worry filling her. She dived into her shadow and slid underneath the door, calling out to Muras. She could hear his sobs, but he didn’t respond.

Following the sound of his sobs, she found herself at his bathroom, staring down at the purple dragon lying on the ground, holding a bloodied paw firmly to his wrist as blood dribbled out from underneath the paw. Several more scars ran up both his arms, resembling self-inflicted claw wounds, and he seemed skinnier than normal. It looked like he hadn’t been eating well.

“H-h-hi, Cynder. How are… how are you doing?” Muras stammered, wincing as he tried to sit up.

“I should be asking you that question, Muras,” Cynder murmured.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Like hell you’re fine. I walk into your home to find you on the ground, sobbing, blood spilling from your wrist and staining the claws on your other paw, and on top of that, you don’t look like you’ve eaten,” Cynder said. “Muras, I’m worried about you.”

“I mean… no, I don’t think I’ve eaten much in two days. As for the blood, it’s just—”

“Muras, I know claw marks when I see them. Plus you’re covered in them. I know you’ve been cutting yourself.”

Muras didn’t respond. He looked away, unable to hold Cynder’s gaze. She sat down beside him, placing a paw on his back and rubbing it softly. “Muras, I just want to help you. How come you’ve been avoiding everyone again?” she questioned, her voice small and soft.

“I’m… I’m scared,” Muras whimpered. “I’m terrified of myself. The nightmares came back two months ago. I’ve been having them every single night. I’m bombarded with memories of how I hurt people, tortured people, murdered people. I hate looking back on who I was back then. I hate knowing that I have the power to destroy lives.

“And over the last month particularly… the focus of them changed. Every single one nightmare I’ve had over the past month has been of you. Memories of beating you, physically abusing you, using you as a vessel for murder. I’ve seen it so much in my sleep that it’s all I can think about. It’s all I can remember. I can’t look at you without seeing the monstrosity I created in you. Hell, you even look like… like her now… now that you’re older. You were so pure and innocent, and you were the most beautiful little grey wind dragoness I saw. You were almost silver.”

Muras choked, his sobs starting to wrack his body as he shook. It was a horrible sight to look at, and Cynder felt herself getting a little emotional watching this. It was hard hearing what Muras had to say too.

“I took all of that away from you,” Muras finally continued, his voice quivering. “I took your childhood and your family away from you and replaced it with… evil and horror. All I can remember of you is the things I’ve done to hurt you. I even… I even had nightmares of Armageddon, when I almost… when I almost…”

Cynder screwed her eyes shut, trying to put the pictures out of her mind as they came flooding back through her memories. Her paw left Muras’ side, and she gripped her head slightly. Muras’ weeping got harder as he too had the images replay in his mind. That moment was a violation for both of them, and for a good three years after Armageddon, neither of them had been able to talk to each other without feeling incredibly awkward or uncomfortable, sometimes both.

What Muras said next horrified her even more, and it made her understand why he was avoiding her especially.

“Most of those nightmares, you couldn’t stop me… for whatever reason,” Muras whimpered, gritting his teeth to bite back his emotions and nausea. “Whether it was draining your mana, paralysing you with electricity, it didn’t matter. And I wake up, having seen something like that… I lie there feeling sick… hating myself. It ruins my appetite, so I don’t eat. I cut myself because I deserve to be physically broken after everything I put you through… and almost put you through. I deserve the abuse I put you through.”

Muras’ words were slurred by his heavy sobs, so much so that Cynder had to strain to make them out. The purple dragon stammered for a while, before giving up and letting his wails loose. Cynder watched him, her chest burning with complex emotions of pain, sympathy, and disgust. She wanted to put her paw on his shoulder but she couldn’t bring herself to. Not after what he had just told her. Not after those images were put back into her mind, of him looming over her, staring down at her with blank and cloudy, yet wild and hungry eyes.

She suddenly caught sight of Muras reaching over to his other wrist with his claws, ready to slice into it. Cynder’s heart screamed at her to grab him to stop him, but her body screamed not to touch him. Her mind screamed not to touch him. She sat and watched as long beads of blood began to trickle down his wrist as Muras slowly drew his claws along his flesh.

He stared at both of his paws, his claws stained with his own blood, as he felt the warm liquid dribbling down his arms. Cynder just watched Muras’ face, feeling faint at the sight of his eyes. The purple dragon was very alive, but his eyes were dead. There was no life in them.

Suddenly, Muras let out a few violent hiccups, before he retched. His weeping softened, but he remained an emotional mess. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, muttering to himself. Cynder could only make out three words: “I’m… so… hungry…”

Cynder sighed. “How long has it been since you last ate?” Cynder murmured. “Be honest, please.”

“I lost count. If I had to guess, maybe twelve days?”

“Oh ancestors, Muras. Really?”

Muras murmured in confirmation with a small nod. Cynder’s heart broke for him. She knew he struggled the most out of everyone she knew post-Armageddon, but seeing him relapse like this was painful to watch. Even though she still had complex feelings about him after what happened in Armageddon, she knew that he was as much a victim as her. She knew that he was as much unconsenting as her. She was just glad, for both their sakes, that nothing had actually happened.

“Muras, how about you come out with me for a bit of a hunt? Get some fresh food in our bellies, take out our emotions on some prey,” she suggested. “I think you need it especially. If not for the letting out emotions part, for the food part. You need something, Muras.”

The purple dragon sat there, silent, before he gave a small nod. “I’ll, uh… I’ll clean myself up… I’ll be out in a moment,” he eventually said.

“Are you sure?” Cynder questioned, wanting to be absolutely sure that he wouldn’t harm himself further when she left.

“I promise.”

Cynder sat there, still doubting him a little bit, but the way he looked at her gave her the feeling that he was being genuine. She nodded, before standing up and walking out of the bathroom. She could hear the sound of running water, a few winces here and there, and the sound of a few gems being broken.

Eventually, Muras walked out of the bathroom, his arms clean of the blood, and his eyes no longer bloodshot with tears. His wrists still bore scars from where he had just cut himself, however.

Once they were ready to go, they left his house and began to make their way through the streets out of Warfang. They had to walk as Muras was too weak from not eating, so he wasn’t able to hold up his own weight anymore. Cynder knew he was unlikely to eat much, after having not eaten for almost two whole weeks, but as long as he got some food into his body, that was enough.

They reached a forest just outside of Warfang, and before long, Cynder had caught two small rabbits. Muras had even managed to catch one, but only just; he wasn’t as fit as he used to be either.

They settled down out in a small opening where the sunlight shone through the trees down onto them, and began to eat, splitting their three rabbits evenly between each other. Cynder was done pretty quickly, and Muras took his time. She couldn’t tell if he was struggling to eat it, or if he was just taking his time because he was shy and awkward around her. He definitely seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

Muras wasn’t too far from finishing his food, before a loud scream suddenly caught their ears. It was young and masculine, pre-pubescent yet not childish.

Confused and concerned, Cynder stood and walked cautiously towards where the scream came from, and Muras stumbled slowly after her. They walked for a little bit, before they reached a small clearing, and Cynder paused with a gasp as she watched the scene unfold before her.

It was a young male dragon, about twelve years old, pinned to the ground under a fearbringer and a shadowclaw. The dragon was crying, pleading for the dark dragons to get off him, but they wouldn’t. His pleas began to get louder and louder, to the point where Cynder wasn’t sure if it was actually possible for a dragon as young as he was to scream that loud… let alone any dragon.

But neither the fight, the younger age of the dragon, or the sheer volume of his voice was what shocked Cynder. What truly shocked her was the colour of the dragon’s scales.

They were purple.

Chapter Text

Cynder felt her heart stop at the sight of the purple dragon. There was no doubting who he was. Forzen was the only other purple dragon in existence, and he definitely appeared to be the right age for someone who was born twelve years ago. She felt Muras’ gaze on her, but she didn’t acknowledge him, her gaze locked onto the young purple dragon in front of her.

Forzen thrashed underneath the two dark dragons, fighting as hard as he could against them. The sight of her son fighting against those monstrous creatures should have put relief into Cynder, but instead she felt nothing. She just stood and watched as the shadowclaw began raking its claws down Forzen’s left flank, spraying blood. Forzen let out a loud growl, before he finally spoke, “Get off me, please! I don’t want to go back!”

The fearbringer’s response was a heavy blow to the purple dragon’s cheek. The force from the hit could be felt from where Cynder and Muras were sitting in hiding. Cynder saw Muras flinch in her peripheral vision, but she wasn’t fazed at the sight of the blow.

Forzen let out an agonised cry, before his claw-tips began to crackle with what looked like electricity. With another growl, he released the electricity as he thrust his paws forward, electrocuting the fearbringer on top of him, sending it down to the ground as it convulsed and writhed on the ground.

Surprisingly, the shadowclaw stepped back, shock and fear filling its expression. That piqued Cynder’s interest; she’d never seen a shadowclaw appear shocked or even scared before. It turned and flew off into the sky, obviously flying back to Dark Peak. Once the fearbringer recovered, it also turned and followed the shadowclaw, but not before bearing its fangs in a threatening snarl at Forzen.

Cynder was surprised at how quickly the dragons left Forzen, and the way they reacted. That electric pulse had some power behind it but it was still very weak; she had seen many electric pulses before, and it was far from being a strong one. She assumed that Forzen was confused about that too as she watched his face scrunch up with confusion yet also surprise.

However, she was proven wrong when he held out his paw in front of him, looking at the pads. He flexed his claws, a small smile pulling at his lips, before he spoke again. “Electricity, huh? That wasn’t one Jaarsol was expecting when I started off with wind and sound,” he muttered to himself, before the smile disappeared with a sigh. “That’s number three… I’m glad I got away when I did. All my elements are beginning to show up now.”

With a frustrated huff, Forzen clenched his paw into a fist and slammed it down on the ground. A small electric pulse rushed through his fist and across the plantation lying in a small radius around it. The grass and small plants stood on end for a few moments, before settling again.

Forzen shook his head, before he stood. “I’d better keep going then. If they could find me here after being gone for five days, I need to continue moving,” he groaned, flexing his wings. “At least I’m free… Thanks Jaarsol for helping me get this, even though you never got to return to this freedom with me.”

Suddenly, Muras sneezed beside Cynder. She had to hold in her curse; she didn’t want to be seen by Forzen.

But why? He was her son, wasn’t he? Why didn’t she go help him when he was in need a few moments ago? He was wounded and bleeding. Surely a mother’s first instinct would have been to come to her son’s side and help him out, wouldn’t it? Why didn’t she feel that?

She returned to the real world and saw Forzen stiffen. He looked around cautiously, his breath hard. He adapted a defensive stance, trying to look as intimidating as he could. “Who’s there? Who is it this time?” he asked, his heavy breathing and shaky voice betraying his attempt to appear firm and strong. “Come out, please.”

Cynder felt Muras jab her in the shoulder. She turned to him with a stern frown, trying to hold in her groan. Muras, with newfound optimism, gestured out towards Forzen. “I’m not going out there,” Cynder mouthed to him.

“Go, now,” Muras mouthed back, his gaze firm.

Great, now Muras was angry at her again. All she wanted was to get on good terms with him again. She rolled her eyes, whispering a curse to Muras, making sure he could hear her, before she begrudgingly stepped into the open.

Forzen whirled around with fear at the sound of the pawsteps, before he froze as he laid eyes on the large, intimidating dragoness in front of him. They stared at each other for a long time, Forzen’s gaze shocked and fearful, and Cynder’s gaze stern and emotionless. Forzen took a shaky step back as he inhaled, speaking with a small voice. “Who… who are you? You’re not like any dark dragon I’ve seen,” Forzen whimpered.

“Because I’m not one of those monsters,” Cynder growled, failing to keep her sudden anger in.

Forzen leapt backwards in fear, cowering behind his vibrant violet wings. “Well, who… who are you then?” he replied, straightening slightly once he’d gotten over the initial scare.

“I am General Cynder, supervisor of the Warfang Army and the victor over Armageddon,” she said, trying to use her title and victory during Armageddon to intimidate him even more.

“Wait, Cynder? I’ve heard that name before. Spyro mentioned you many times, but I don’t know what’s so…” Forzen started, but paused as his eyes widened. He glanced down at his paws, before looking up at Cynder again. “He… he said you were my mother at one point.”

As soon as the word was said, Cynder’s paw was thrown forward, balled into a strong fist, as she sent Forzen sprawling to the ground. “Don’t you dare call me ‘mother’,” she snapped.

“Well that pretty much proves why you left us,” Forzen spat, climbing off the ground.

“What? I left you? That’s absurd, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Spyro told me that you left him shortly after I hatched,” Forzen replied with a shrug. “He never told me why, but only that you left, and that you’re the reason he’s the way he is now. He mentioned your name once, before he just referred to you as ‘her’ or ‘your mother’.”

“I didn’t leave you and I sure as hell am not responsible for what Spyro is doing right now. He left me , and took you with him! He is responsible for what he is. That wretched lizard has done nothing but feed you lies, you worm!” she snapped, before she paused and replayed Forzen’s last response in her head. “Wait… just ‘Spyro’? I thought you would’ve been calling him ‘father’ considering you’re clearly loyal enough to him to believe all his stories.”

“Oh hell no; I just didn’t know any better and never knew the other side of the story! No way in hell would I want to be affiliated with that monster.”

Cynder blinked; she was so confused. Was he with Spyro or not? He believed Spyro’s lies about her, but Forzen clearly seemed to hate Spyro’s guts with a passion, much like her. “Whose side are you on, kid?” she growled.

“I don’t know, but it’s not Spyro’s, that’s for sure,” Forzen muttered. “For all my life, I had been sheltered. I knew very little about what happened in Dark Peak. I stayed in a room full of younglings that would eventually be corrupted into the Dark Assassin Corps, but because everyone was close to that area, it was deemed unsafe for me to be there, so Spyro decided to have me moved to another room, and one of the slaves was assigned to be my caretaker. That was about… seven, maybe eight years ago.

“It’s only until recently I truly realised how bad everything in Dark Peak was. Spyro killed my caretaker’s mate a few weeks ago, and I’ve been planning our escape for weeks on end with her. Unfortunately, she was caught. Probably ended up being killed. I’d always been afraid of Spyro for some reason, but now I know why, and I know this fear is real. I saw him murder Kyoren, and it’s the worst thing I have ever seen.”

Cynder stared at the child without expression. She opened her mouth to let out another scornful reply, until Muras stepped out of the foliage behind her. Forzen stepped back in fear at the sight of yet another purple dragon stepping out of the foliage. “You don’t have to be afraid of Spyro anymore, young one,” Muras said. “We can help you.”

“Uhhh… I didn’t know there was another purple dragon around,” Forzen whimpered, his voice now very shaky.

Cynder didn’t acknowledge Forzen’s response, instead turning around to scold Muras. “What are you doing, Muras?! I don’t want anything to do with this kid!” she growled threateningly.

“He’s your son, Cynder!” Muras exclaimed.

“No. Not after Spyro took him. He haunted my dreams for months. I knew if he was with Spyro that he would become a monster, so I thought him dead. Whatever monster Spyro would turn him into would never be anyone I would call my son.”

“But he’s not a monster! Look at him!” Muras replied. “He’s pure of heart, and alive!”

“SPYRO USED TO BE PURE OF HEART!” Cynder screamed, tears filling her eyes as her snarl wavered, but she tried her best to keep the snarl on her face. “Spyro used to be pure of heart, at the exact age that Forzen is now. But look where he is now. I do not trust any decent of Spyro’s, especially a purple dragon, to be forever and completely pure of heart.”

Cynder turned back to Forzen, taking in the fearful, devastated expression on his face. She studied his face, realising how similar it was to his father’s face when he was twelve. The only difference was the crown of silver horns around his head that resembled her own. She couldn’t bear to look at him. He reminded her of Spyro in ways that in any normal circumstances should have been happy, but now she looked upon those memories with disgust. Forzen’s very existence was a disgusting reminder of her relationship with Spyro, her intimacy with Spyro.

Looking at Forzen made her sick.

“Go. I don’t want to see your face again,” Cynder spat, to which Forzen recoiled strongly.

“No, Cynder. We’re taking him back to Warfang,” Muras replied.

“Oh come on, what is your problem?!” Cynder growled as she whirled back around to the larger purple dragon. “You don’t get to make my choices for me. Plus , I want to know what happened to the Muras I saw this morning. Why the sudden shift? Why the sudden urge to stand up for Spyro’s son of all people, and to argue with me about my own decisions?”

“BECAUSE HE IS MY PURPOSE!” Muras roared, everyone stepping back in surprise at the ferocity behind his roar. Himself included. He cleared his throat, before he spoke again, raw emotion still edging his voice. “All those years ago, when Aloelle purified me, she told me that my job was to mentor the next purple dragon. And here he is, in the flesh. We have to take him back, Cynder. I need him, just like he needs me. In a world like this, a purple dragon like himself cannot do life alone, where he can be tempted and tried countless times. He needs guidance from someone who can provide it… guidance from someone on the right side of the fight.”

Cynder’s eyes narrowed. There was an incredibly uncomfortable silence between the three of them, as Muras looked at her with pleading eyes, and Forzen looked between the both of them with fear and uncertainty. She heard all that Muras was saying, and unfortunately, she was starting to think that maybe she agreed with him. It would be much better if Forzen was getting his guidance from Muras and from Warfang, rather than from Spyro and Dark Peak, or any other sketchy place that he might have ended up stumbling into. It was the best option.

Plus, he could be a good asset.

With a long sigh that sounded more like a growl, Cynder replied, “Fine, but you can spend time with him. I don’t want any part of it.”

“Cynder, he’s your son,” Muras groaned.

“I’ve already told you. He’s not. He hasn’t been my son for twelve years. He’s Spyro’s son.”

“I refuse to be that monster’s son,” Forzen piped up. “I renounced Spyro as my father years ago.”

“Then he’s no one’s son, happy?” Cynder said with a smirk.

Muras glared disapprovingly at Cynder, but she just shrugged back. “Anyway, are we going now?” Cynder questioned.

“I… still haven’t finished eating yet,” Muras said, gesturing towards the bushes where they had been sitting behind, eating.

Cynder suppressed her scream. “You know what, Muras? You and the purple whelp can stay here and eat. I’m going back home,” she spat, before turning and flying off towards Warfang.

There was another awkward moment of silence. Muras tried to hold in his anger, breathing heavily. It was so unlike Cynder to act like this, and it maddened him so much that she would treat her own child so poorly. He tried to slow his breathing down, taking deep, calm inhales and exhales, before he turned back to Forzen.

The younger purple dragon sighed sadly, sitting on his haunches. “Y’know, for a moment there I was glad to have a mother again. Now I’m not so sure,” he murmured.

“Hmmm… according to her, you still don’t have one,” Muras replied sadly, to which Forzen nodded with a small shrug, looking down at his paws. “Now come on, let’s eat; I haven’t finished my rabbit yet and I still have another half left if you want some.”

“It’s alright. I’m not hungry… I ate earlier.

Muras raised an eyebrow. There was something about the way Forzen said it that made it sound like he was lying and trying to hide something, as if he hadn’t been eating recently, which he picked up on because he had been doing the same thing himself just this morning. However, he let it slide, knowing Forzen was still very nervous and uncomfortable around him.

He walked back to where he and Cynder had been eating, and was at least happy to see that Forzen had followed him. He sat down and continued eating. He noticed Forzen stifle a gag at the sight of the fresh kills, fresh blood spilling from where Muras was biting. He paused, lowering the rabbit carcass as he looked down at the younger purple dragon, who pawed at the ground anxiously. Forzen’s gaze slowly rose back to the adult purple dragon, before returning back to his paws.

Muras swallowed, before putting the rabbit carcass down. “Are you alright?” Muras asked, concern rising inside him.

“No, I’m not. These past few weeks have been… really, really hard,” Forzen murmured, his voice quiet and shaky. “Finding out who Spyro really was… I don’t know, it frightened me. I always knew something was off about him. I always knew he was bad. I had that gut feeling, you know? But I never knew the full truth about him. And he had hid that from me, for twelve years. I’m not surprised he did, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to see who he really was.

“But I especially became terrified because I knew if Spyro could hide something like that from me, who knew what things other dragons were hiding from me? Who knew what they may have against me? I became wary of everyone else around Dark Peak. For a short time, even Jaarsol, my caretaker.

“I know people hate me because the other kids that Spyro kept me with for the first few years of my life hated me. They blamed me for them being captured and used, knowing that I was Spyro’s son. I refused to call him ‘Father’. I called him ‘Master’ instead, wanting to fit in with the other kids, but that only made it worse. One of them, D’varin, an earth dragon three years older than me, had started to beat me. Several times.

“Then, one by one, they were taken from the room we all shared and were corrupted, turned into monsters that would become a part of the Dark Assassin Corps, an intense training program where Spyro would turn all the kids into killers… bloodthirsty, murder-loving beasts… it’s gone on for years now; about five years into the program he started sending them out into smaller civilisations, out of Warfang’s radar and attention, for in-field practice. Three years later, they were sent into bigger civilisations, killing off their political and military leaders.”

“Really? That’s the first time I’ve heard of them,” Muras said.

“I don’t know how the bigger ones missed Warfang’s radar, but it seems they have,” Forzen replied. “All I know is that the members of the Corps all return without even being seen; they are very good at what they do. This is all talk I’ve heard from the slaves around the place, as well as Jaarsol and Kyoren; I’ve never seen or talked to any of them in person. I have no idea what he’s actually done to them.”

Muras’ eyes widened. This was exactly what he had done to Cynder. His heart broke, knowing so many children were experiencing the same hell that Cynder went through. He knew that if any of them made it out of this alive, they would all be subject to the same trauma and societal rejection that Cynder had. No one deserved that. And unlike what he did to Cynder, it wasn’t just one child. It was many. He had no idea just how many, but the sheer number of childhoods laid to waste in the name of murder made him feel sick.

“The only member I’ve seen post-corruption was D’varin, who was taken the same day as my best friend, Gur’ath. He returned the day after he was taken, fully adult sized, dark markings all over his body, eyes wild with rage as he attacked me. Drachen had to intervene to pull him off me. This scar on my neck is a remnant of D’varin’s attack,” Forzen continued, lifting his head to show Muras the scar which he had only until now seen; it was a long, thick scar that ran down the left side of his neck from the underside of his jawline, all the way down to his collarbone. “That attack caused me to lose all trust between the other kids that I was around. They were all afraid of me, they all hated me. I stopped looking to them for friendship, because I was scared of them, and I knew I could never trust them to keep their word that they would never hurt me.

“Hell, I don’t even know if I can trust you. I mean, you’re a purple dragon too. Everybody says that purple dragons can’t be trusted. I know that because of my father. Sometimes… I don’t even know if I can trust myself. I just… wish I could find someone I could trust… with everything. Jaarsol was somewhat close, but… when she mourned… when she mourned, it scared me. It put doubt in me. She would get angry, and blame me for a lot of things, including her mate’s death when that happened.

“She mourned for her sister, brother, father, and son too. She told me of her son. She said he’s still alive, but she mourned because he’s all alone in Warfang and without a caring family. I was maybe… six… when she told me about him. His name’s Du’ryal, and he’s a null, about four years older than me.

“For years, I wanted nothing more than to meet him. I wanted nothing more than to escape with Jaarsol and Kyoren, so they could see their son again, and so I could meet him. He was a great young dragon from the stories Jaarsol told me. But of course now Kyoren’s dead. I know Jaarsol’s dead. I never saw her die, but there’s no way Spyro would have kept her alive after helping me escape.

“But now that I think about it, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Everyone around my age has hated me, for all my life. I know he would hate me too, especially since I’m the reason his mother will never come home for him. I don’t even know if returning to Warfang full stop is the best idea anymore. I know with Spyro being around and causing so much death and destruction on Warfang that I would never be welcome. I would be hated… by not just the kids, but the adults too.

“Since leaving Dark Peak, my goals of finding a home in Warfang and meeting Du’ryal have all since vanished. Now, I don’t know what to do. Especially since, by the looks of it, I really am going to Warfang…” Forzen concluded with a sigh, shaking his head. “I’m just… so terrified…”

Muras just looked at Forzen, tears edging his eyes. Forzen had been through a lot in his short life. Even Spyro had seen a lot in his early years too, but unlike Forzen, Spyro had been raised in a dragonfly household and kept away from the horrors of war. Forzen was raised in it. He was raised in a place where everyone was frightened of him, a mere child. His father scared him, and now he had just found out that his mother didn’t want him anymore.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Muras stammered, his voice shaking as he tried to hold back his tears. “I’m so sorry to hear of everything that has happened to you. No one deserves to go through what you have.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Forzen mumbled as he pawed at the ground, playing with the dirt.

“I want to help you. The prophecy of the purple dragon has many important parts that all must be played out. One of which says that a purple dragon must help mentor the purple dragon of the next generation. I know Spyro should technically be mentoring you, but that’s not ideal, given the circumstances. I should have mentored Spyro , but… the circumstances weren’t ideal either, for… many reasons…” Muras said, unwilling to admit to the child that he had been much like Spyro just twenty years ago. “But, I want to mentor you, and I want to help you. I am someone you can trust, Forzen. I know I won’t get it right all the time; I’m not perfect. But I can try my best.”

“I just… don’t know about going to Warfang,” Forzen replied. “If the… discrimination, if you want to call it that, was as bad as it was in Dark Peak, I know it’s going to be much worse in a place like Warfang, where everyone is free and can do and say whatever they want.”

“There are still consequences, even in Warfang, Forzen. Not everyone can just do and say whatever they want.”

“I still don’t want to go to Warfang.”

Muras sighed, shaking his head. “I know, but I genuinely think it would be safer for you to go to Warfang than to stay out here in the wilderness, trying to fend for yourself. You can’t defend yourself; Cynder and I saw your fight against the fearbringer and shadowclaw. You only just got out of it by managing to conjure up a new element; it was pure luck. You need someone to help you learn how to fight and defend yourself, to learn how to harness your elements properly to a point where you can stand and fight.”

“Are you sure you’re not doing it to make me fight for you? To make me your weapon? Because that’s what Spyro is doing to hundreds of other children in Dark Peak.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. All I want is for you to be safe and to be able to defend yourself. If you want to fight in the war, it’s entirely your choice.”

Forzen just nodded, turning away from Muras as he raised the rabbit carcass again and took another bite. There was a tiny snapping sound from the small body as a bit of bone in the rabbit’s spine broke under the force of Muras’ bite. Forzen visibly flinched at the sound of the spine cracking.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat, Forzen?” Muras questioned after he swallowed, wanting to make sure Forzen got some food.

“No, I’m fine,” Forzen mumbled, almost as if he was holding his stomach contents down. He was obviously sickened by the sound of the snapping bones, Muras chewing the flesh, and the sight and smell of the rabbit’s blood.

“Well, you let me know if you want some food; there’s another half a rabbit here that we should finish before we return to Warfang.”

“You finish it.”

With that, Forzen turned and stumbled off towards a nearby tree. Muras looked towards the younger purple dragon’s flank and noticed it was still bleeding, remembering that Forzen had been hurt pretty badly from the fight earlier.

He then pushed the thought away as he watched Forzen grasp the trunk of the tree and began to climb it, climbing up to the top of the tree, becoming lost in the foliage. A few moments later, a few berries began to drop to the ground from the tree. Forzen then lowered himself back to the ground, clawing carefully at the tree to stop himself from falling, before he let go a few metres above the ground, landing on his paws safely. He sat down with his back to Muras, picking up the berries and beginning to eat them.

Muras gave a small humoured snort as he took another bite of the rabbit, tasting the metallic tang of blood and the fresh rawness of the meat against his tongue. He looked down at the carcass in his paws, and only just seemed to register how sickening it must look. Raw, fresh meat was just normal food for most dragons, and he supposed that for Forzen, who only associated blood as an inherently evil thing rather than just a natural thing, it would be a barbaric thing to even think about. Muras wasn’t even sure if Forzen had even eaten meat. Filled with curiosity, Muras asked the question.

“Once, when I was seven,” Forzen replied. “I wasn’t a big fan of it then… I said it tasted weird. To be fair, it was a few days old and beginning to go off. We didn’t have the best food in Dark Peak, and I was given some of the best stuff there; I shudder to think of what the slaves got. Of course Spyro and the army got the absolute best quality stuff.”

“We have good meat to eat at Warfang if you ever wanted to try some proper meat,” Muras suggested.

“I know meat is a natural diet for us dragons, but after seeing Kyoren be killed, as well as the hundreds or thousands of bloodied slaves I saw throughout Dark Peak while escaping, I’m not sure if I really want to eat meat, to taste blood against my tongue. It sickens me… and it almost seems disrespectful to those who have died.”

That confirmed Muras’ suspicion. He blinked hearing such a mature response from Forzen. He was super mature for a mere twelve-year-old, however, he knew it was due to to witnessing so many horrors a twelve-year-old should never have experienced.

Muras knew that he was meant to mentor Cynder’s son, but he had never stopped once to think about everything that he would be experiencing living at Dark Peak. No dragon should ever have to go through everything that Forzen had to. Forzen was broken, and Muras knew that everything that he had told him just now was just the tip of the iceberg. Muras knew that there was so much more that Forzen was keeping from him, so much more that went way deeper than he could ever imagine. Muras knew there was so much more hurt and trauma from all of this lying inside Forzen.

Despite all of the brokenness and trauma, Muras could see an innocence and purity inside Forzen that, in comparison, snuffed out what was in Spyro’s heart all those years ago during the Dark War. Forzen was truly pure, and Muras knew that Forzen would grow to be an amazing young dragon, with a great destiny. After his failure as a purple dragon, protector of the world, and the current failure of Spyro, Muras believed Forzen would break the losing streak.

Third time’s the charm. Hopefully, Muras thought.

Chapter Text

Cynder landed back in Warfang, mumbling under her breath with anger, her blood bubbling with hatred and rage. She couldn’t get Forzen out of her head, and she hated it. She had spent twelve years believing he was dead or being used for evil deeds by Spyro, much like Malefor used her. Either way, he was dead to her; he meant nothing.

Now he had the audacity to come back into her life, and Muras didn’t make things any better by wanting to take him in. Forzen could be a spy or have ulterior motives. She didn’t trust him. Everything about him made her think of Spyro.

She hadn’t even thought of him in twelve years. Everything about him had been wiped from her memory. She couldn’t even think of him as a hatchling without feeling disgust and hatred.

Her head was down, staring at her paws as she stomped through the streets of Warfang, many dragons keeping their distance from her. She was very well respected and revered in Warfang, especially after she put an end to Armageddon and helped lead Warfang through the war without guardians, but they knew just how much of a temper she had developed over the last twelve years, and no one wanted to mess with her. She had enough restraint to not burst into violence, but her loud shouts and angry outbursts terrified many.

Cynder blocked out the world around her, not wanting the loud noises of society to add even more noise to her brain; she had enough of it already from the past few minutes. She needed to let it out and cool down.

Taking a sharp turn down the streets and picking up the pace, she headed straight towards the barracks. It was her day off, sure, but she felt some training and beating up some dark dragons in the training ring would be very beneficial to her. She had so much bubbling emotion that it was overwhelming and confusing. She wanted to get rid of it.

Pyron was the first to greet her. He had joined the army about eight months after Armageddon, wanting nothing more than to help serve and fight back against Spyro, after he had caused so much grief to him, his friends and family, and the whole world. The fire dragon had proven himself to be a really strong warrior, and Cynder was really impressed with him.

It was a weird dynamic having been such close friends before, where now she was his general. Since she became a much darker personality over the last twelve years too, she had taken on a lot more of her role as general with him; she didn’t have much time for friends, and didn’t want them at all in an army setting; she felt getting her friendship more involved in the barracks would cause more problems than needed.

“General Cynder? What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?” he asked, following her as she didn’t break a step.

“I just wanted a bit of a spar,” she said bluntly.

“Are you okay, Cynder? You seem… way more tense than you normally are, and I know that’s saying something,” Pyron muttered.

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You sure? It’s still quite early; something must have happened for you to be so frustrated already. Tell me what happened.”

“No.”

“Cynder…”

“No, Pyron,” Cynder spat, whirling around and trying to keep her voice down so she didn’t start a scene. “I appreciate the friendly gesture but in these barracks, our relationship is not that of a friend, got it?”

Pyron recoiled, looking down sadly as she spoke. He stood there for a while, before giving a very small nod. Cynder huffed and turned around, continuing towards the training rings. It didn’t take long for her to realise Pyron was still following her. She growled, turning on him and leading him down a small hallway where they were both out of view.

“We’ve been through this many times, Pyron. I am your general. We have a job to do in here, and I don’t want to get our friendship roped into this thing,” Cynder hissed under her breath.

“Many other dragons are friends with the other soldiers. What’s wrong with a bit of friendship?” Pyron whispered back.

“The other soldiers are not your general, Pyron. I do not want any lines being blurred here, understand? Our existing friendship has already blurred enough lines. I am not cutting the friendship entirely, but I am putting up boundaries. Respect them.”

Pyron blinked, seeming very hurt by this. However, he nodded and stepped back. “I’m sorry, General Cynder,” he murmured.

“Thanks. Now leave me be.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pyron replied, before turning and walking back out of the hall.

Cynder scoffed, before turning and making her way to the magical training room, which was almost empty. Most of the soldiers seemed to be out in the physical training room, or doing training elsewhere, whether it be in the barracks’ gyms, in one of the other training sites throughout Warfang, or even out in the forest.

About nine years ago, Cynder decided to allow groups of soldiers to head out into the forest for more training, whether it be sparring or various drills, usually led by an officer of some sort. It had been good to get everyone out, especially since it usually felt very cramped in the Warfang barracks, despite how massive it was. She’d eventually deemed the forest nearby Warfang safe to do so, and she’d heard nothing but positive results. Occasionally, there would be boot camps and several-day-long exercises being held to help with team-building and training.

Cynder eventually stepped into a ring, sighing as she rolled her head to loosen her neck a little bit, before she closed her eyes and conjured her enemies, picturing them in her mind. When she opened her eyes, she saw her opponents materialise in the ring before her: a fearbringer, a shadowclaw, and a venomfang.

The venomfang was the first to lunge, its snarling, green maw dripping with venom. Cynder stepped back, lashing out with her claws and striking the venomfang across the eye. It stumbled backwards, shaking its head and throwing green blood around in the process, before it took a firm stance and spat some globs of venom at Cynder. She dodged two of them, but knowing her immunity to the poison element, she hardly cared whether they hit her or not, feeling the toxic green liquid splash over her.

Immediately after, Cynder was tackled to the ground by the shadowclaw, who had leapt at her from behind. She tensed, throwing half of her body upwards and causing the shadowclaw to fall headfirst over her. She then breathed a heavy gale of wind, sending the shadowclaw flying into the fearbringer that was rushing towards her. They both collided, falling to the ground with hideous snarls.

Cynder stood, narrowly dodging a swipe at her eye from the venomfang, payback for slicing open its eye a few seconds earlier. Cynder growled, breathing shadow fire at the venomfang. It screeched as it burned inside the black inferno. It leapt out from the inferno at her, sending her sprawling on the ground.

The venomfang clawed at her chest, drawing dark blood, before Cynder sliced back at the venomfang, tearing open its flanks and gut. She sliced out some of its intestines, and it let out a pained screech as it fell off Cynder, writhing in pain.

She raised her tailblade to end the venomfang, but was interrupted by a loud shriek. She ducked, watching two bright red orbs of phantom fright flying over her. She turned as the fearbringer opened its maw again, ready to release a siren scream. Cynder released her own before it could, causing it to stumble backwards, shaking its head vigorously to re-orientate itself. The fear element couldn’t put a fearbringer into a fear coma, a luxury that Cynder herself did not have, but it could confuse and disorientate one, allowing Cynder extra time to focus on other opponents.

In Cynder’s case, said opponent was the shadowclaw that had lunged at her, maw wide open. Quickly, she swung her tailblade around, which found the shadowclaw’s lashing tongue. The wet muscle came flying off to the side with a spray of black, inky blood, but the shadowclaw continued its descent on her, biting down into her throat. She could feel its blood mingling with her own, and it stung profusely.

Swinging her tailblade around again, she stabbed the shadowclaw in the flank several times, before it cried out in pain, releasing her throat from its jaws and stepping back in pain. She then stepped forward and swiftly sliced off the shadowclaw’s head.

A splatter of venom on Cynder’s side alerted her of the downed venomfang, which was struggling to its paws as rivers of dark green blood streamed down its abdomen. She breathed more shadow fire at it, causing it to stumble back down to the ground with a growl as its flesh burned.

While it was distracted by its burning flesh, Cynder turned to the fearbringer that had finally managed to reorient itself, and was now lunging at her. She lowered her head and thrust it forward, stabbing the fearbringer in the neck with her long, powerful horns. She felt a shower of blood wash over her head.

Lifting it up into the air, she then threw the fearbringer to the side. It tried to get up, but Cynder knocked it back down to the ground as she leapt on top of it. She was about to tear open its throat, but she immediately dived to the ground as a siren scream tore from the fearbringer’s mouth. It was quicker to stand back up than she was, and so released another siren scream, which actually hit her this time.

She cursed; luckily a regular fearbringer’s fear element wasn’t as potent on her as it would be on a normal dragon—Fa’roth, the fearbringer general, was the only one to put her in bad fear comas, as he was significantly stronger than the average fearbringer; he had once put her in a thirty-two-hour fear coma that Vetar described to be hellish to watch. She knew due to her resistance that she would be able to recover quickly, but she was definitely quite impaired now.

What she really dreaded was what she would see in this fear coma, as her vision started to twirl and distort grotesquely.

She groaned as she struggled to her paws, staring at the fearbringer as it grew many spikes over every inch of its body, growing more fangs as well as a second tongue that lashed out at her. The fearbringer stepped back in shock as it watched Cynder stand, as such a feat was usually almost impossible for the average dragon.

It was times like these that Cynder was glad to have these dark elements that granted her resistance against the dark dragons, or complete immunity in the case of the venomfangs.

Growling savagely, she staggered forward, increasing speed as she swung her tailblade at the monstrous fearbringer before her, spraying blood everywhere. In her vision, the blood was greatly overexaggerated, and soon the whole world around her was red. She gritted her teeth and howled through her hallucinations and ringing ears, before swinging her tailblade at the fearbringer once more, finally slicing off its head, watching it roll across the ground towards the venomfang.

Cynder stepped slowly towards the burning, bleeding venomfang, noticing as the dead, sightless eyes of the decapitated fearbringer’s head was following her as she walked. She froze and almost collapsed to the ground in fear, but gripped the ground with her claws, focusing her gaze solely on the venomfang, praying to the ancestors that the fear coma would only last a few more moments.

She closed in on the venomfang, whose efforts to fight back had since vanished. It lay there on the ground, staring into Cynder’s eyes, acknowledging its impending death. Glowing green eyes covered its body, as every single one stared at her. The massive gaping wound in its gut was replaced by another maw, horrid fangs decorating the edges of it as a grotesque tongue hung limply out of the stomach-maw.

Wanting to be done with the venomfang, visually skewed by her fear coma, Cynder thrust her claws into the venomfang’s head, hacking away at it, before reaching into the gorey cranium and yanking out the green gem inside its head, silencing the venomfang.

Satisfaction filled her as she looked over the carnage of the three dark dragons, but with the rage and adrenaline starting to leave her body, the fear of the fear coma finally started to take more control. She sank to the ground, breathing heavily and trying not to scream. Cynder looked around her, watching as the three dark dragons slowly began to morph into something else: corpses of other dragons.

One of them was a lightning dragoness, and Cynder’s heart lurched as she recognised the dragoness as the one she had killed during Armageddon; the one who had begged to be killed so she could be with her son, both of which who had been possessed by Naar’voth, and shortly after killed by Cynder. The tears began to sting her eyes as Cynder remembered the five-year-old youngling who had already been possessed by the time she had found him.

The second was another dragoness. The ice dragoness wasn’t a still corpse like the lightning one, but she was definitely dying. She muttered out a few names with a weak voice, and it took Cynder a moment to pick them out. “Vetar… Embarol… Bronlin…”

When Cynder looked closer, she noticed the ice dragoness’ belly was large and rounded; she was carrying another egg. Cynder gasped as she realised this was Fronen, Vetar’s dead mate, who she had killed several years ago as the Terror of the Skies. Fronen continued uttering those names, blood spilling from her lips as she spoke.

She became very close to breaking down when she saw the third corpse change. It wasn’t a dragon she herself had killed, but this dragon’s death had shaken her terribly when it happened. It was Terrador, the first of the guardians that Spyro had murdered during the Toxic Hour. The earth guardian’s body was still covered in dark, wet blood, which flooded from his head as his empty, white eyes, rolled up in the back of his head, seemed to cut right into her soul.

She knew Terrador was safe with the ancestors after seeing him during Armageddon when she met Aloelle. She knew he was safe, perfect and whole again. But it sickened her to see him in this state again. She was afraid of him in this state.

The visions of the three corpses were way worse than the monstrous distortions that the fearbringer and venomfang had undertaken beforehand. These corpses were personal to her. They had contributed to her many levels of trauma and fear. She hated the way fear comas did this, delving deep into her psyche to pull out her deepest fears, her trauma, the events that she wanted nothing more than to forget.

It’s just an illusion. I’m hallucinating, Cynder reassured herself mentally, with no success as her heartbeat continued to rise at a rapid pace; she felt herself lowering to the ground as she cowered in fear. It’s not real. It’s not real.

Her eyes darted around between the lightning dragoness, Fronen and Terrador. Each one of them got more overwhelming to look at the more she looked between them. She didn’t know which one she hated looking at the most.

“IT’S NOT REAL!” she found herself screaming, screwing her eyes shut and digging her claws into her temples.

All at once, the sounds stopped. Everything went quiet, and it felt normal again. She opened her eyes, and the red, blood-stained world had returned to its normal colour, and the bodies of the lightning dragoness, Fronen and Terrador faded back into the corpses of the dark dragons that she had killed. Eventually, they too started to fade, the magical hold over them ceasing, causing their bodies to dematerialise into dust.

The blood and decimated venomfang guts remained.

She shook her head to calm herself down, taking deep breaths to slow her heartbeat. She sighed, feeling peace enter her soul as she broke free from the fear coma. She didn’t know how long she had spent inside the fear coma; it must have only been five minutes but it felt like ages to her. She closed her eyes, but the terrible images of her fear coma still lingered.

Cynder shook her head again, before standing up. At the very least, she had gotten her adrenaline rush to help combat the deep rage and hatred that she was feeling earlier. She did feel much better, despite getting retraumatised through her fear coma.

Just when she thought she could finally have a break, she heard the doors to the training room burst open, before Vetar’s voice reached her ears. “Cynder? Are you alright?” he asked, rushing up to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Cynder replied.

“Are you sure? I heard that you’d ended up in a fear coma.”

“I promise, I’m fine,” Cynder said sternly. “What do you want?”

“Muras came to ask where you were,” Vetar said, and Cynder immediately groaned, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get a break from Muras or Forzen. “A purple youngling was with him too. Cynder, that might be your son!”

Cynder scoffed, rolling her eyes with a scowl. “Oh, I already know about that ancestor-damned dragon. I don’t want him in my life but Muras has forced it onto me that we bring him in.”

“Wait, you don’t…? He doesn’t look to be corrupted or evil in any way; I don’t get what the problem is! He’s your son , Cynder!” Vetar cried. “I… I would give anything to have my kids back! I’d give anything to actually see my son! You can’t just throw this away; this is something to be treasured!”

“Well, if you want a son then you can take Forzen for me,” Cynder murmured.

“He’s your son, Cynder. I don’t know what your problem with him is but I want to see you out there with him now.”

“You can’t order me around. I’m in charge.”

“Technically, I am. It’s your day off, remember? You put me in charge. I don’t know what you’re doing here and it’s not like we’re under siege or anything where we need you regardless of whether it’s your day off or not. It looks to me like you came here to run away from an important family situation, which I’m sure you know is not the way to do it. Now go out there. They’re at the front door waiting.”

Cynder swallowed the curse she so wanted to throw at Vetar. He wasn’t wrong; she wasn’t supposed to even be here today, and she was definitely running from Forzen. She hated how right Vetar was.

She let out a low growl, before stomping off towards the front door.

Chapter Text

“Why do we have to bring Cynder to see the guardians?” Forzen asked Muras as they waited outside the front door of the barracks. “I don’t even want to go see the guardians. All I’ve gotten since we waltzed into Warfang are concerned and cautious faces, and people steer away from me. The guardians are probably going to be the same. Or they’ll be angry like Cynder, and one Cynder is already enough.”

Muras turned to Forzen with a sigh. “The guardians won’t be like her, I can promise you that much,” he replied. “They may be cautious at first, like everyone else in Warfang, but I’m sure they’ll get used to you. Surely they’ll realise you’re not a bad person or working for Spyro.”

“But what if they don’t? What if everybody else in Warfang doesn’t? If I’m to stay with you or whatever, I’ll probably end up living here,” Forzen murmured. “I don’t want people to be straying away from me, discriminating me, or even attacking me because I’m of Spyro’s blood. Even if I don’t work for Spyro I will be judged simply because I’m his son, and because I’m purple.”

“Forzen, it’s not because you’re purple,” Muras started.

“It is; Cynder said it herself! If she’s scared of me because I’m purple, what will everyone else think? I know purple dragons haven’t had the best reputation recently, so me being purple will definitely be a big part! Speaking of which, you don’t seem to get treated so negatively or with so much caution. What’s so different about you that makes everyone like you?”

By the looks of it, Muras didn’t know what to say, as he hesitated, his eyes going distant. Forzen felt loneliness well up inside him. Did people really like Muras immediately and undoubtedly, no matter what? Even if he was the same colour as Spyro, the dragon terrorising the world? Even if he was the same colour as Malefor ? That didn’t seem fair.

Jaarsol had told him the stories of Malefor, so he knew Spyro wasn’t a single event of a corrupt, evil purple dragon. He knew that both Malefor and Spyro happening so close together put a huge target on any purple dragon.

Forzen knew Muras couldn’t be Malefor, judging from the stories of Malefor that Jaarsol had told him. Muras was so kind and caring, unlike Spyro’s predecessor. Could Muras be a… a good purple dragon? Was there such a thing? Forzen knew he was a good purple dragon, but hardly anyone would think that or even see to reason. Then again, Spyro was a good purple dragon too, before he turned and became the monster he was now. Jaarsol said that even Malefor was a good purple dragon before he went evil.

Would Muras become corrupt like Malefor and Spyro? Would Forzen?

The young purple dragon’s mind was swirling with questions, but Forzen refused to ask them, for fear that speaking the questions aloud might make them true. He was worried that putting voice behind the questions might turn Muras even in the future, or even himself. His questions were better off kept deep in his mind, unanswered. They were better off not even being thought about.

Forzen swallowed nervously, before Muras began to talk. “I… I was also discriminated against at first. It’s not just you struggling with it,” he said sadly. “I went through all of this too.”

“How long did it take for everyone here to accept you?” Forzen asked.

“I don’t know fully. Maybe… somewhere between one and three years?”

“One to three years?!” Forzen cried, feeling a wave of helplessness crush him. “What chance do I have then?! You’re not even related to Malefor or Spyro; you don’t have all that extra weight on your head!”

Forzen noticed Muras flinch slightly at the last sentence, but he didn’t have time to process it before the door in front of them opened suddenly as Cynder made herself known, interrupting their conversation. She glared at Forzen, making him cower and turn away, stepping back to hide behind Muras. Cynder rolled her eyes, before turning to Muras. “What do you want?” Cynder scowled at him.

“I… Look, I figured we should probably take Forzen to see the guardians before we throw him into training and mentorship,” Muras explained, causing Cynder to raise a brow. “I think it would help the guardians, and Warfang as well, in having some extra information regarding Forzen, to help him settle in a bit more, and to help prove Forzen’s innocence in the matter of if he’s working for Spyro or not. He’s bound to get targeted without that.”

“And why do I need to go along with you?”

“Well, I figured since you’re his… you know what, forget I said that,” Muras stammered, briefly noticing Cynder’s gaze heat up with anger as she realised where he was going. “Either way, I still think it would be a good idea for you to come along. You could help aid in battle training perhaps, since you’re the army general here.”

Forzen tried to make himself look small. How many plans did Muras have for him? He was terrified; he didn’t want to open up or say anything. He’d wanted somewhere safe to stay, and had considered Warfang multiple times before deciding against it. However he never wanted this out of Warfang.

The purple dragon also knew that the battle training Muras was suggesting was only to help him defend himself, but when he saw the look on Cynder’s face after he mentioned it, he knew she thought otherwise. She clearly had other plans.

All Forzen wanted to do was curl up in a ball and fade from existence. He didn’t want to speak to the guardians. He didn’t even really want to speak to Muras that much either; he seemed pretty nosy and almost too kind, if that was even possible. Forzen didn’t want to even think about uttering one letter to Cynder. And despite all this, it sounded like Muras wanted Forzen to talk about his miserable life and spill it all out to the guardians on a silver platter. There was no way he was going to do that.

That was his personal life, and he would talk about it when he wanted to. He was not going to be forced to do so. Hell, doing so at this current time, with the events of the past few days so fresh… talking about it would just make him cry. There was no way he was going to do that.

Ever since a young age, Spyro told him that he was not allowed to cry. Male dragons don’t cry. Only wimps or girls did that. He needed to be strong and tough. He would never show anyone else his emotions; he knew they would just take advantage of him in his weakness. He was not allowed to show emotion, and most certainly not him , a powerful purple dragon.

He thought back to when he was eight, when Spyro tested him on keeping his emotions in check, forcing him to stay strong and not to cry. Spyro had had him beaten by his peers. He’d had him scared and threatened by the dark dragons. He even put him in a fear coma. The fear coma was the worst part, due to…

No. I won’t think about that. Never again.

His attention was thrown back into the real world as Cynder slapped him in the side of the head, hard. “Are you paying attention, whelp? We’re going,” Cynder scolded, before whirling around and storming off towards the Warfang Temple.

“Cynder, don’t be so scornful! He’s just a child!” Muras exclaimed as Forzen rubbed his jaw.

“He’s twelve. He can deal with it,” Cynder grumbled.

“What the hell, Cynder?!”

“Spyro and I dealt with much worse when we were twelve. You should know that.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to treat him like crap.”

Cynder didn’t respond. Muras looked down sadly at Forzen, and he rolled his eyes. “I’m fine; I don’t need your empathy, or your pity,” Forzen murmured, before trudging miserably after Cynder.

He could practically feel Muras’ heartbroken gaze on him, before he heard footsteps behind him as Muras started to follow them.

Forzen sighed inwardly, trying hard not to cry from the weight of Muras’ gaze. He didn’t need empathy. He didn’t want it. No one had given it to him except for Jaarsol. Empathy towards him was reserved for Jaarsol only. She at least took care of him well. She taught him well. She was kind but not too kind, and was always there for him. To be fair, it was her job, but he knew that she was genuine about it.

The weight of wary, angry looks towards Forzen made his heart race as he followed Cynder and Muras. He couldn’t keep his gaze on them, seeing the entire population of Warfang staring at him in his peripheral vision. His gaze lowered to his paws as if they were the most important thing in the world, only occasionally looking up at Cynder to ensure he was still going the right way.

He wanted nothing more than to run and leave, but he knew it would cause more drama, and he’d already had enough of that, and he knew there was more to come. He didn’t want extra on top of that. He also didn’t want to cause problems in Warfang, particularly if he was going to be staying here.

Plus, he knew that the moment he would run off, Muras would immediately be out to find him. The older purple dragon was… obsessed with him, it seemed like. Muras had called him his ‘purpose’. What was so important about him to make Muras want to care for him so much, and to claim that he was his ‘purpose’? Why would anyone want to mentor him? He was the son of a monster. He didn’t deserve anyone’s care or love.

It wasn’t long before they finally reached the Warfang Temple. A large, burly ice dragon was standing in the foyer,talking to a middle-aged orange cheetah, who wore several battle scars along his face and arms. Both of them paused mid-conversation as Cynder, Forzen and Muras entered the Warfang Temple.

The ice dragon’s expression was unreadable, which scared Forzen. The cheetah’s features twisted into a savage scowl. “Are you kidding me?!” he growled. “Another purple dragon?! Isn’t two enough?!”

“Derilan, he’s safe,” Cynder reassured the cheetah, now identified as Derilan. “If he does make a move, I can pretty easily restrain him. I’m sure you wouldn’t have too hard of a time too; he really only comes up to your shoulder.”

“I doubt I could do anything; you know how powerful purple dragons are,” Derilan scowled. “Spyro had the power to destroy Malefor at the age of fifteen! Who knows what power this one holds?! Who knows what he plans to do against us?!”

“He’s not like his father, trust me,” Muras said, before his eyes went wide as he realised what he had just said.

“LEARN TO HOLD YOUR TONGUE, WORM!” Cynder barked.

“This is Spyro’s son?!” the ice dragon roared, causing Forzen to immediately shrink into himself. “Why haven’t you killed the whelp?! He could be a weapon, a trap, made to look innocent just to lure us in, to lull us into a false sense of security just so he can turn on us and exterminate Warfang!”

“I wanted to be rid of him, Frélix! Muras wouldn’t let me!” Cynder scowled, glaring daggers at Muras, before turning back to the large ice dragon that she had called Frélix. “And now he wants to talk to you guys about letting him mentor the purple lizard!”

“Mentor him? Absolutely not!” Frélix snapped.

“I want to talk to all of you, Frélix; not just one of you,” Muras protested firmly.

“They’ll all agree with me. This dragon is a threat to us, if he truly is the son of Spyro. Not to mention, he’s the son of Cynder as well.”

Forzen was half expecting Cynder to snap back and correct Frélix at how she had disowned him, but she didn’t. “You make a good point there; he could have inherited one of my elements, which would be extremely dangerous,” she said. “He already wields wind; what if he ends up with something like fear or poison?”

“That’s exactly why he should be killed!” Derilan shouted. “Right here, right now!”

With a roar, the furious orange cheetah lunged at Forzen, pulling a long sword out of a scabbard that was hanging around his waist, pointing the sharp blade at him. Forzen let out a fearful scream, attempting to run backwards, but instead tripped over his own paws, sending him sprawling to the ground with a thud.

Before the purple dragon knew it, Derilan was suddenly on top of him, raising the sword over his head, ready to strike. Forzen kicked out, trying to throw Derilan off him. The cheetah wobbled, missing his mark as he swung, sending the sword slicing across Forzen’s left shoulder. Forzen howled in pain, feeling blood spill from the wound.

“STOP IT!” Muras screamed, but Cynder held him back forcefully.

Derilan raised the sword again, and Forzen could tell it was aimed at his heart. He let out a fearful scream, before a heavy clubbed tail slammed into Derilan, sending him flying off Forzen and sliding across the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!” a deep, gravelly voice thundered.

Forzen fearfully looked up, noticing a massive earth dragon standing over him. He was slightly less muscular than Frélix, but still had a large amount of bulk to him. Forzen cowered in fear, drawing his wings over the top of himself and curling up into the smallest ball he could.

Derilan’s enraged voice filled the room, causing Forzen to tense up even more. “Why’d you stop me? I could have killed him!”

“I will not approve of any killing in this Temple!” the earth dragon rumbled.

“But he’s a purple dragon!”

“I am not colour blind, furbrain! I can see that!”

“He’s Spyro’s son!”

The earth dragon hesitated at that. Forzen peeked through his wings to study the earth dragon. He let out a squeak as he saw piercing emerald eyes staring down at him. He closed his wings even tighter over his face. It was uncomfortable curling himself up as tight as he was, but for now, it was keeping him safe.

Forzen didn’t know what was going through the earth dragon’s mind, but he didn’t like the look on the earth dragon’s face, even if he only saw it briefly. Silently, he began to pray to the ancestors, just like Jaarsol had taught him in secret, that everything would be okay and that he would make it out alive.

Frélix’s voice cut through the silence. “Torialis, don’t let the fact that he’s of Cynder’s bloodline confuse you. He’s also of Spyro’s bloodline, and was raised with him at Dark Peak! Who knows what he’s been taught or exposed to? It could all be part of Spyro’s grand plan, having us take him in. We must dispose of this purple whelp.”

“He inherited one of Cynder’s elements!” Derilan added. “If he inherits any more, he’ll kill us all, especially if it’s poison!”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” the earth dragon, Torialis snapped. “Frélix, you let this attack happen?”

“Of course I did; the kid’s dangerous,” Frélix retorted.

“We’re not killing anyone until we have all the information, especially a child! It goes against every moral in my heart, and I’m surprised it doesn’t do the same with you as well Frélix, given what happened to your brother.”

“Don’t… talk about him.”

“Well then, stop trying to kill this kid. We can do so if he proves himself to be a threat, but right now, I see none of that from this ball of fear.”

“It’s just a tactic to get us into a false sense of security.”

“Can it, Frélix. I want to talk to the kid with all four of us and then we can decide what we want to do, okay?” Torialis demanded, before turning to Cynder. “And Cynder, let Muras go.”

Cynder let out a low, guttural growl, before there was the thud of a body on the ground, followed by sharp, hoarse breaths. He sounded like he was fighting for breath. Did Cynder… choke Muras?

Torialis’ voice rumbled once more, “So why’s he here? I assumed you two brought him here.”

“Muras forced me to, but yes. Yes, we brought him here,” Cynder replied.

“Why do you have to keep saying that?” Muras croaked.

“Because I want nothing to do with the kid!”

Must everyone call me ‘kid’? I have a name, Forzen thought, but refused to speak his thoughts out loud.

“Okay, so why did you bring him here then?” Torialis questioned Muras.

“I… Can I talk with the other guardians? It’s a big story and I don’t want to go through it twice,” Muras asked. “It’d be better to have everyone here I think.”

These are the guardians? Forzen thought. One of them wanted to kill me at first sight! I don’t know if I want to meet the others!

“Very well. Frélix, go fetch Ash and Lagenon for me,” Torialis ordered.

Frélix muttered with acknowledgement, before the clacking of claws on the marble floors began and faded as Frélix moved down the hall. Forzen suddenly jumped as he felt a large claw tapping his back, surprisingly gentle. “Come on, little one. Open up. I won’t hurt you until I know more, I promise,” Torialis said.

“How could you even say th…?!” Derilan shouted, but he was cut off by something, probably a cold stare by Torialis or something.

Reluctantly, the twelve-year-old purple dragon slowly opened his wings and worked himself into a sitting position, before looking up at the large earth dragon towering over him. Torialis stared down at him with an unreadable expression, bright emerald eyes staring into his vibrant purple ones. Torialis cocked his head to the side slightly as he studied the purple dragon, and Forzen didn’t know whether it would be better to curl into a ball again or not.

His size intimidated Forzen as well; Torialis was very big, towering over him even more than Muras did. It seemed that Torialis wasn’t as big as Cynder however, to which Forzen didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

It didn’t take long for Frélix to return with two other dragons, a fire and electric one. Torialis stepped back to stand next to them, and Forzen noticed that Torialis was only just taller than the two new dragons, and slightly shorter than Frélix. Forzen turned to Cynder and studied her size, coming to the conclusion that Cynder was even taller than Frélix, making her the largest dragon in the room.

Cynder was suddenly starting to become even scarier than before.

“So what’s all this about? Frélix has been mentioning a new purple dr—” the fire dragon said as he walked into the room, before pausing as his eyes came across Forzen lying on the ground. The purple dragon watched the fire guardian’s neck bob as he gulped, and Forzen could sense the nervousness in him.

“Well, Muras,” Torialis said, turning around to face the larger purple dragon. “What’s the deal here? Who is this young purple dragon and why is he here?”

“Well… Cynder took me out to the forest to go hunting together, to help take my mind off… well… everything that’s been going on. But just after we caught out breakfast, we heard Forzen, getting attacked by a fearbringer and a shadowclaw,” Muras explained. “It seemed as if he… he didn’t want to fight them. He let out an electric pulse though, and they both fled, which was strange because it was quite weak, mainly because it was the first time he’d ever used electricity. Cynder and I made ourselves known to him after the two dark dragons left, and we talked, and decided to bring him here.”

“You mean you decided to bring him here,” Cynder scowled.

“Shush, Cynder. Let Muras speak,” Torialis mumbled, and Cynder just rolled her eyes. “Why did you decide to bring Forzen here?”

“Every purple dragon has the previous purple dragon mentor them; it’s just tradition. It’s prophecy almost. Every purple dragon has a longer lifespan so they can make it to the tenth generation when the next one is born, so they can mentor them, teach them healthy lifestyle choices and how to use their elements safely. Although… things have happened differently due to… recent events.

“I also feel like… like he’s my purpose. He’s the reason the ancestors sent me back. I’m meant to mentor him, I can feel it. I believe I’m the one who’s meant to teach him good ways to live and how to protect himself. I don’t want him fighting in the war if he doesn’t want to; making a weapon out of him like the previous guardians turned Spyro into a weapon is not where I want to go with him. However, I think he could really help us if he wanted to.”

“Okay, so you want to mentor him,” Frélix murmured. “Sounds good, but how do we know if we can trust him? He’s Spyro’s son, remember?”

This caused the fire and electric guardians to gasp in shock, eyes flicking between Forzen and Cynder. Cynder bared her teeth with a snarl as they made the silent connection of who the mother was.

Frélix continued speaking, “He was raised in Dark Peak amongst Spyro, Drachen, the Dark Assassin Corps, and plenty of other evil creatures that could have influenced him.”

Spyro kept me away from the Dark Assasin Corps after what happened with D’varin when I was a few months old, Forzen thought, but didn’t speak his thoughts out loud.

“I don’t sense anything harmful inside him, Master Frélix,” Muras replied. “Please, trust me. Help me with him. Maybe we could… I don’t know, send him to school as well? He’s gonna need people his own age around him. And, I can’t teach him everything.”

Torialis turned to look towards the other guardians, which after a few moments, nodded subtly. Frélix very much hesitated, being the last one to agree. With the way his face contorted, it definitely looked like he was wrestling with the decision. The electric guardian didn’t seem so pleased either. The fire guardian was hesitant, but seemed optimistic.

“Alright. We’ll let you take him in as your mentee, and he can go to school,” Torialis said. “But, I do want caution to be advised. If too many issues arise, whether it’s his fault or not, we’ll have to take him out of school, and eventually, take him away from you and out of Warfang.”

“If you take him out of Warfang, I’m going too. I’m his mentor, and I will stay with him,” Muras said firmly.

“Okay, fine. At least that means we get rid of both purple dragons in Warfang,” Frélix said with a shrug.

“What is with the damn stereotyping?!” Muras exclaimed. “Not all purple dragons are bad, I swear!”

“Seems a bit hard to believe right about now, doesn’t it?” the electric dragon asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I know, Master Lagenon, but… Oh fine, have it your way! But you better not be teaching the kids at school this stereotyping when Forzen starts going to classes. The last thing he needs is to get bullied and pushed out, especially if you guys end up starting it. He’s a good kid, I can feel it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Forzen said, even though he knew it was a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to be fine, but he didn’t want anyone worrying about him. Plus, he’d been alone all his life; Jaarsol was the only one there for him. Feeling alone at school wouldn’t be too different.

“Are you sure?” Muras questioned.

“Yes.”

There was an awkward silence, and Forzen hated it.

He hated what came next even more.

“Okay, Forzen. Tell us about yourself,” Torialis said.

He shrank in on himself, suddenly wanting to sink into the floor. They were asking him to open up, talk about himself, his life. He didn’t even want to talk to the guardians, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was his lonely, miserable, torturous life. Forzen squeezed his eyes shut at the word, forcing the memories away as they threatened to return to his mind. After a few deep breaths, he was able to suppress the memories once more.

Forzen frowned when he opened his eyes and looked back up at his audience. Frélix appeared to be getting quite impatient, and Derilan, who was leaning against a stone pillar, twirled a small dagger between the claws on his left paw. There was the sound of tapping claws on marble and Forzen turned towards the sound, watching Cynder tap the ground with her long claws, a fierce glare painted on her face.

The fire dragon inhaled and spoke, his voice much more gentle than Forzen expected, especially due to the general hostility everyone had been showing towards him. “Come on, Forzen. We just want to help you, and we can’t do that unless we know a little bit about you,” the red dragon said. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Are you sure?” Forzen murmured in a small voice.

“Yes, I’m sure. All we need for now is a little bit about you and some of the happenings at Dark Peak.”

Forzen opened his mouth, letting out a small croak as he tried to gather his words, before closing his mouth again. He stared at his paws as if they were the most captivating thing in the world. He started to play with his claws as he sat there trying to figure out what he should say.

Clearly he was taking too long, as Cynder’s impatience started to show itself. “Forzen, speak up or otherwise I’ll force the words out of you,” she snarled, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

“Cynder.” Torialis’ voice was calm, but stern at the same time, a strong sense of authority behind it.

Forzen looked up for a few moments to see Torialis shaking his head at Cynder, before the earth guardian’s gaze returned to Forzen. The purple dragon lowered his own gaze back to his paws.

Torialis spoke again, using a similar tone of voice he had with Cynder, except he was slightly more gentle, yet still stern and commanding. “Forzen, I understand if this is too soon for you. Living for twelve years at Dark Peak must’ve been… hard,” he said. “But, if we’re going to trust you and keep you inside Warfang, we need you to talk to us. We need you to prove to us that you’re as good as Muras says you are. I somewhat believe Muras, and by the looks of it, Ash does too, but I want to hear it from you.”

The purple youngling sighed and nodded, before pausing for a few seconds, thinking through his words. He was suddenly interrupted as Muras piped up. “He’s already told me a few things, Master Torialis. I could tell you if you wish,” the older purple dragon said.

“Did you not hear what I just said, Muras?” Torialis scolded. “I want to hear it from his mouth if we’re going to trust him. I want him to tell us. And not just for us, but for him as well. If Forzen can open himself up to us, maybe he might be able to start to trust us a little bit more as well. Because I’m getting the feeling that he doesn’t really trust any one in this room. Not even you.”

Muras’ face fell. Sure he was already well aware of this, as Forzen had already told him that, but it looked like it still struck a nerve in Muras that upset him.

“I just… I don’t know what to say to you apart from the obvious,” Forzen murmured. “Y’know, ‘Hi I’m Forzen, I’m a purple dragon and I was raised in Dark Peak and Spyro’s my father too’... like what else is there for me to say?”

“Is there anything important that’s happened at Dark Peak that you think we should know? Anything that’s happened to you that we need to know?” Lagenon suggested. “What are your usable elements? What happened in Dark Peak to and around you over the past twelve years that have led you up to this moment? Things like that.”

“Well uh… I guess I was raised with the uncorrupted candidates for the Dark Assassin Corps for the first three years of my life. Just a bunch of kids that were stolen, and still are getting stolen, although not as in mass numbers as ten to twelve years ago,” Forzen explained. “Being raised amongst them… I thought I would actually have friends, but I didn’t. I only had one friend; his name was Gur’ath. He was taken and corrupted about a year after Flaris, the first member of the Dark Assassin Corps, was corrupted.

“All the kids I was raised amongst hated me, especially this one kid named D’varin. He hated me the most. Even after he became a member of the Dark Assassin Corps, his hatred for me still continued, so he tracked down our cave and attacked me, which also ended up putting the other uncorrupted candidates in danger.

“So, Spyro separated me from them; he gave me a new room, and gave me a caretaker when I was three. Her name was Jaarsol, and she was the only dragon I could actually fully trust. Spyro gave her orders on what to teach me and how to look after me; she was also my teacher in a way. She ended up teaching me so many other things in secret, so many good things, as opposed to the evil Spyro wanted me to learn and believe.

“Her mate, Kyoren, was also a labour worker, and in the little time they were allowed to have together, he would tell her about things that were going on inside Dark Peak. Jaarsol relayed some of it to me; she believed it was good for me to know some of these things, especially since she truly believed that I was good. She told me about the weak points of each of the dark dragons. The gem in the shadowclaws’ chests, the gem in the venomfangs’ heads, and the gem inside the fearbringers’ skulls, which are also infused with Sound Gem energy, and—”

“Wait, what did you say?” Cynder interrupted. “Sound Gem energy?”

Forzen wilted under Cynder’s gaze, but swallowed his nervousness and tried to stay strong. “Yeah. It increases their sound range and allows them to hear things from far away. It also significantly strengthens their siren screams and other sound-related attacks,” Forzen explained. “He spent ages getting the biology and connections between the Sound Gem and the fearbringer’s body complete, essentially merging the Sound Gem with the life crystals that each of the dark dragons have, and turning it into part of a fearbringer’s biology. Why? What’s the sudden interest in that?”

“Back when the previous guardians died, Spyro attacked me and destroyed my choker. He wanted the Sound Gem and I apparently had it hidden inside my choker. I believed Malefor must have put it there, considering he gave me the choker,” Cynder replied.

“I think… you may be correct in that assumption,” Muras murmured.

Cynder turned to Muras and scoffed, realising that was basically confirmation from him.

“Anyway, please continue, Forzen,” Torialis prompted.

Forzen had to fight to keep his annoyed groan internal. He felt like he’d already done enough talking, but they wanted more? He knew he was going to have to go through the pain of talking about Kyoren’s death, and the fear of having Spyro chase after him. And given what he knew of the guardians throughout the last few minutes, he knew they would want more detail, a lot more than what he’d said to Muras.

He didn’t want to relive one of the worst moments of his life, but he knew he would have to.

However, that would be the only moment he would share with them. They didn’t have to know about the other horrible things that happened to him. No one needed to know. Not even Muras. He didn’t care if Muras was to be his mentor and someone relatively close to him.

Forzen took a deep breath and continued, “So, all this went on for nine years until a few weeks ago. I managed to sneak away, being much more independent and wanting to see the ‘outside world’, having been cooped up in pretty much one cave for all those nine years. However, as I explored, I quickly came across many horrors, including… including watching Spyro murder Kyoren. It was horrible, just out in the open where every other dragon—every other slave—could see. I saw Drachen and D’varin there too; D’varin looked like he wanted to be the one ripping up Kyoren.

“I remember… running back before I could get caught. I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. I told Jaarsol, and she… she scared me. The way she mourned… the anguish, the horror, the rage… I’d never seen that before. It was the only time she had ever scared me. She was always so kind and gentle towards me, but at that moment, it looked like she wanted to hit something, to kill something. Knowing Spyro was my father, I thought that something was me.

“I hid from her for a week, before she approached me and apologised, before she finally asked me if I wanted to get out of Dark Peak. It was an extremely risky thing, but she was proposing an escape. I said yes, and we planned our way ot. About five days ago, we attempted it, and I finally got out of Dark Peak. I… I don’t think Jaarsol made it. I’ve spent these last five days on the run, hiding and resting as well, until today. Cynder and Muras found me, and now I’m here.”

Forzen studied the guardians, trying to figure out if they were going to ask for even more information from him. That was the last thing he wanted. Trying to make that clear, he nervously but firmly added, “I’m done now. That’s all I want to share.”

Frélix looked very unsatisfied with Forzen’s final sentence, and the young purple dragon was scared he was going to get another scolding, or even worse, more threats. But Ash, the fire guardian, was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. “I don’t want to push him too much further; it seems like that’s all he’s willing to share, and I feel like with his rough life, I don’t feel right asking him to relive and recount too much more of it,” he said. “I… I think I trust him. I think he’s good; I don’t see any malice or trickery behind his eyes.”

“But he’s hiding stuff from us,” Frélix replied.

“Given what we know of his story, I don’t blame him,” the fire guardian retorted. “If I were to force you to open up about your trauma, I think you would be selective over the details on what you shared, or even straight up refuse to share anything at all. Have a bit of empathy. He’ll open up when he’s ready, but I think for now he’s shared enough, and I think I can trust him.”

“Honestly, so do I. I think trust concerning him will be a little shaky at first, and that’s to be expected, on both sides of the matter. But I believe him. From what I’ve heard, I think he’s good. And with his caretaker going out of her way to teach him so many things contradicting what Spyro wanted her to teach him in secret is a very good thing,” Torialis said, before turning to Forzen. “Do you know where she was from?”

“Here. She used to live in Warfang,” Forzen replied.

“Well, I can conclude that she very likely had very similar morals and beliefs to many of us in Warfang, and she’s likely passed much of that onto Forzen. I’d say he’s already pretty trustworthy.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you, considering this is the son of Spyro … I think I’m inclined to agree too… somewhat ,” Lagenon agreed. “I think the evidence proves itself enough. With a bit of extra aid, I think we can turn Forzen into a good kid.”

“I’m still… very sceptical about him,” Frélix muttered with a shrug. “But if you all trust him enough for him to stick around, I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“So he can stay?” Torialis asked.

The other three guardians nodded in unison, before Torialis stood and turned around. “Okay, young Forzen. We’ve come to a unanimous decision: you can stay. We’ll put you in living quarters with Muras, your new mentor. School begins in about a week’s time for all younglings your age, so we can get you started then. Until then, you can have some time to get to know Muras, your mentor, as well as the city, us guardians, Cynder, and anyone else you may wish to meet,” Torialis said. “We expect you to be on your best behaviour, because if we catch you doing anything suspicious, we might have reason to think you may be a spy for Spyro, as will the general public. Nothing against you, but with Spyro as he is, and you being his son, we can’t take out chances.”

“Yes, I understand, Master Torialis, sir,” Forzen muttered in acknowledgement.

The young purple dragon was about to stand, before Lagenon interrupted him. “Hang on, we’re not quite finished,” the electric guardian said. “You never told us your elements. That’s pretty important knowledge for us, especially if we’re going to be putting you in school.”

“Okay. Well, I only have three so far: wind, sound and electricity.”

“Hold on, did you say ‘sound’?”

“Yes? Why, what’s wrong with that?”

“Purple dragons can’t use sinister elements like sound unless they have heritage from a dragon with a sinister element,” Ash murmured.

Cynder groaned, raising a paw to her forehead. “Which is Spyro, of course it is,” she huffed.

“Wait, Spyro has sinister elements?” Torialis exclaimed. “Why did we not know about this?”

“Lava and plasma. He doesn’t use them often, but he did pull them out on the occasion throughout my many fights with him.”

“Wait… so that means he would’ve had to be related to a sinister element dragon.”

“Yup.”

“Look, I’m not even going to be upset that you haven’t told us considering how much we missed out on over the ten years we were in the White Isle for, but that brings up the extra concern that sinister dragons aren’t extinct like we thought for so many millenia.”

“Lucky, we haven’t run into them. I don’t plan to; Spyro’s enough of a problem as is,” Cynder replied. “It does mean, however, that Forzen’s elements will be very unpredictable. He’s got the regular pool of elements, but he also has the ability to inherit my dark elements, and now Spyro’s sinister elements; the latter of the options, we will not be able to teach him with the full knowledge that we have of the other subsets of elements.”

“That’ll be a problem we will tackle when we get to needing to coach him in his sound element, and whatever other sinister element he may inherit,” Lagenon murmured. “Muras, I trust you’ll be well equipped to do as much research as possible on said elements.”

“I can definitely do my best on that, Master Lagenon,” Muras said.

Forzen swallowed; he didn’t like how worried everyone was over the sound element. It was natural to him; it didn’t feel like there was anything wrong with the element. He remembered Jaarsol showing a bit of surprise when he first unlocked it, especially considering it wasn’t one of the elements she had taught him about, but he never picked up any fear or concern from her about it. Maybe she had just hidden it well.

He also had never heard of these ‘sinister elements’. Sound wasn’t that ‘sinister’ of an element, was it? He didn’t like the negative outlook on an element that seemed so normal to him.

“Alright, I want to have one quick look at Forzen’s powers, just to see where he sits in his skill level for each of them,” Torialis suggested. “Let’s head over to the training grounds and we can have a look there.”

Chapter Text

Forzen stood in the large training room, his heart thumping savagely against his chest. The moment they stepped foot into the room and made Forzen stand in the arena, he instantly wanted out. He didn’t feel comfortable having so many eyes scrutinising him as he displayed his elemental capabilities; he didn’t feel like they were too impressive but he was scared of what everyone else would think, especially given the opinions he’d heard about him today already. He was terrified at what they expected him to do, and how much they expected him to demonstrate.

He had a feeling they might not be expecting as much with the electricity element, considering the guardians had been made aware that he’d only just discovered the element today, but it was the wind and sound elements that scared him. Especially sound. It was completely new territory to them, and Forzen knew for a fact that new things were scary, mainly from personal experience but he was sure that concept would carry over even to the guardians.

The purple dragon knew that this was just to let Muras, the guardians, and even Cynder, know where to start him off in his training. He knew they were going to create dummies for him to beat up with his elements, but he really didn’t want to be violent. He’d seen Spyro, his own father, be incredibly violent, and he hated it. Violence scared him; it sickened him.

But he had to. They were going to force him to fight, just like they forced him to talk. It’s the only way to make you trustworthy, Forzen thought to himself with a dejected sigh as he looked over towards the guardians.

The four guardians sat a few metres away from the outer rim of the large arena that he was in, Muras sitting beside them. Cynder stood a bit further forward, but still outside the ring. The large dark purple dragoness had been assigned to start off his training today, being the general of the Warfang Army, and also as the dragon who would oversee his training with the wind element.

“Alright, we’re going to give you two dummies to go up against. We’ll do this in three rounds: wind element first, then sound, then whatever you can manage with electricity. Do you understand, Forzen?” Cynder announced.

“Yes, Cynder,” he mumbled.

“Speak up,” Cynder snapped. “And in a training setting like this, I want you to refer to me as General Cynder.”

“Y-yes, General,” Forzen said, forcing the volume in his voice.

“Alright, you may begin when the dummies have materialised.”

With that, Cynder stepped back slightly. Forzen turned and watched as two shimmering forms began to appear in front of him, and he lowered himself slowly into a firm battle stance. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was fight; not that he liked it of course, but it was part of the education that Spyro made mandatory for Jaarsol to teach him.

Forzen watched the shimmering forms carefully, and he frowned when he saw them take on very distinct quadruped figures with claws, wings, a snout, and… Wait, I thought these were meant to be dummies, Forzen thought. Why are they dragons? Aren’t dummies wooden poles filled with straw?

And then the scales began to form. Being on the opposite side to Spyro, Forzen fully expected Cynder to create shadowclaws, venomfangs, or fearbringers for him. But the black scales did not come. They weren’t painted with purple, red or green stripes either.

But one of them was red.

And one of them was green.

A fire and earth dragon; these seemed to be dragons on their side—normal dragons, good dragons.

Forzen spoke his fears to Cynder. “Uh, aren’t these meant to be dummies?” Forzen asked. “Why are they… dragons?”

“I find it hard to believe Dark Peak doesn’t have arenas like these too, unless you were taught to fight against slaves,” Cynder murmured.

“We do, but Jaarsol only made me fight against dummies or apes for a moving target!” Forzen exclaimed, cowering as the fire and earth dragon slowly advanced on him. “These aren’t dummies like you said they would be! They’re dragons! Normal dragons! I can’t fight normal dragons!”

Cynder didn’t answer; she just watched as Forzen was forced to evade the sudden fire breath that shot from the red dragon’s maw. He tried to duck and dive around the earth missiles that followed, but one of them hit him strong in the side of the head, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Make it stop, please!” Forzen cried. “I don’t want to fight these things!”

Cynder made no move to call back the dragons attacking the young purple dragon.

Forzen tried to cry out again but he suddenly felt the breath shoot out of his lungs as the earth dragon jumped on top of him, slamming a balled fist into his face. Pain flared through his jaw. The earth dragon punched him again.

It all felt real. It all hurt. Blood was spilling from his nostrils as he took the punches, not wanting to fight the dragons, whether they were real or not. He knew they were magic but his brain was telling him they were real. He could feel the weight of the earth dragon on him. He could feel each and every blow.

The young purple dragon didn’t want to prove himself anymore. He wanted to run out and leave Warfang. He didn’t care if he starved; if this is what it took to prove himself able to get into Warfang, he didn’t want any part of this.

Another fist, covered with red scales, began flogging him in the chest. The earth dragon had moved off him, but continued to wallop him in the face. However, it was more than just a fist he could feel against his chest. Hot, searing pain burst through it, and he suddenly realised that the fire dragon’s fist was on fire. He yelled out in pain, pleading for it to stop.

His body screamed at him to fight. It howled for violence. It wanted to fight, to not let these ‘dragons’ beat him up so freely. His body didn’t know they were apparitions, creatures created by magic, no matter how real it felt. But the visual of real, normal, good dragons scared him out of it. He couldn’t fight them, no matter how much they hurt him. That would be wrong .

The earth dragon atop him slugged him up the jaw again, and his head shot sideways. The force ramming into his bottom jaw sent it clenching upwards into his top jaw, catching his tongue between his closing jaws, making him bite down hard on it. Forzen let out another pained shout as he tasted blood.

“CYNDER THAT’S ENOUGH!” Torialis’ roar echoed throughout the room.

Suddenly, the dragons were gone, dissipating in a wave of coloured sparkles. Forzen laid on the ground, not wanting to stand. He didn’t feel like he could. Bruises covered his body and his chest and head throbbed with pain. He fought with everything within him not to start crying.

“What… in the hell … w-w-was that?!” Forzen stammered eventually.

“I actually agree with Forzen on this one; I’m sure Muras does too,” Torialis said, moving everyone’s attention over to the older purple dragon, whose eyes were wider than Forzen thought a dragon’s eyelids could open, his jaw hanging open as words failed to come to his tongue. “That was needlessly harsh on the kid. You said you’d give him dummies, not artificial opponents, and especially not other dragons.”

“That was the first test I had for him. To see if he would actually attack another living dragon or not,” Cynder said without emotion. “And he passed.”

Muras growled, rage welling up within him. “You sick piece of—”

“ And ,” Torialis interrupted, “he got incredibly wounded in the process. I should’ve spoken up sooner than I did; that was appalling.”

Forzen watched as Cynder held back a retort, watching her features twist with anger. She was quick to hide her anger again, and Forzen wasn’t sure if Muras and the guardians saw it, but with how close he was to her, there was no denying the brief lapse in her emotionless state.

“I sure hope you don’t do this to the kid when you teach him for his wind element. You still need to hold a sense of responsibility and professionalism, considering one, you will be his teacher, and two , you are still the general of the army. We can and will punish you if we find out you’re abusing him,” Lagenon scolded.

“Cynder, I want you to get him some red gems and allow him a few minutes to rest before we actually begin his elemental analysis,” Ash ordered; he spoke much gentler than Torialis and Lagenon, but Forzen could still tell the fire guardian was seething with rage, he just chose not to show it; Forzen didn’t know whether that was scarier or not.

“Fine,” Cynder said with a huff, whirling around to the other end of the room to grab some red gems from the storage chest, her sharp tail lashing angrily behind her.

With Cynder now in the distance a bit more, Muras sprung into action, running towards Forzen. “Are you okay, Forzen?” he asked, reaching out to help him stand.

Forzen slapped Muras’ helping paw away, raising himself into a sitting position. “Don’t touch me. Why do you care?” Forzen snapped. “Why does anyone care! No one has ever cared for me except Jaarsol!”

Muras reeled back at Forzen’s outburst, before an expression of pity twisted his face. “Oh, Forzen. Is this about your name?” he asked.

“My name? What about it?”

“It… it means ‘strength’ in ancient draconic.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, so no,” Forzen snapped, averting his gaze. “I’m just… I… I’m just not used to people treating me like this. It… it just reminds me of Jaarsol…”

“At least you know there are others like her,” Ash said softly.

“No! No, I won’t believe that! All that means is that others are doomed to die for caring for me! That they can’t be with their friends and family anymore!” Forzen shouted, choking back his emotions. “Jaarsol was someone else’s mother, and I took her away from him! Du’ryal should have had his mother with him, but instead, she was with me! He should’ve had his father, but instead, Kyoren was working for Spyro, and then eventually got killed by him! That kid’s an orphan now and it’s all my fault, because all they did was care for me!”

“Du’ryal? He doesn’t mean… the orphan null that lives as Mrs Jeroth’s Home for Deprivileged Younglings?” Frélix muttered under his breath.

“No. No no no don’t tell him, please! Please, he can’t know!” Forzen pleaded, his voice hoarse as he yelled at the top of his lungs, sounding like a desperate child. “I don’t want him to have anything to do with me! If he knows that I stole his parents from him, he’ll hate me and he’ll beat me, just like those artificial dragons did. Just like all the other kids at Dark Peak did. Please don’t tell him!”

The guardians were shocked at the sudden outburst, and Muras stepped back a little bit. Even on the other side of the room, Cynder had turned her gaze to him, not expecting him to raise his voice as much as he had.

Exchanging wordless glances with the other guardians, Torialis nodded hesitantly. Forzen didn’t buy it. “Please,” Forzen pleaded again. “Please just promise me; promise me you won’t tell him. Swear by the ancestors please!”

Torialis took a deep breath, closing his eyes and raising his head with frustration. He held the breath for a while, before he exhaled, looking back down at Forzen with a sad glint in his eyes. “I swear to the ancestors that I will not tell Du’ryal about his parents’ connection with you,” Torialis promised. “But he has to know that his parents are never coming back. We have to tell him that much. He deserves that knowledge at the very least.”

“Fine. I don’t care. As long as you don’t say anything that will lead him to me. Please.”

Torialis nodded again, and Forzen released the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Suddenly, he was made aware of pawsteps sounding from behind him. He turned around to see Cynder returning, holding a small satchel of red gems in her mouth. She stopped in front of Forzen and dropped it on the ground with a thud, followed by a loud clatter as a few gems spilled out of the open satchel and onto the floor.

“There, heal up, Forzen,” Cynder said—the words were ones of compassion, but the way she said it made it sound forced.

Forzen looked up at Cynder hesitantly, before looking down at the gems and grabbing a hold of one, breaking it in his palm. He felt the energy rush into his body; it was warm and soothing. He raised the gem closer to his face, where the majority of his wounds were, feeling the soft wave of warmth sweep over him as his wounds closed. He dropped the drained gem, before wiping the blood off his muzzle.

Cynder then snatched the satchel off the ground and chucked it to the side out of the ring. She stepped back and said, “Alright, we’re doing this for real this time. I’ll give you some apes to fight with, since you said you’ve fought with them before. I do want to see you moving around and fighting rather than just attacking motionless dummies.”

“I… okay,” Forzen said with a nervous nod.

“Great. Again, we’re doing this in three stages, starting with wind. Begin when you’re ready.”

With that, three apes materialised with a flash of coloured light. Immediately, all three apes rushed forward, and Forzen leapt to the side, dodging the apes. One of them turned, rushing back towards Forzen. The purple dragon opened his mouth and let out a large gust of wind, aimed at the ape. It staggered backwards, before being blown off its feet, flying head over heels in midair.

Forzen closed his maw and was about to tackle the ape to the ground, but a second ape attacked him first, jumping onto his side. Forzen summoned a small amount of wind between the body and the ape, before forcing the wind upwards, taking the ape with it. Forzen ended the magic blast of wind, and the ape rapidly began to descend, landing on the ground with a heavy crack. It didn’t move again.

The first ape was closing in on Forzen, its right arm outstretched towards him. Forzen summoned a tornado around the ape, causing it to once more get swept off its feet. It spun around inside the tornado, before Forzen stilled the tornado, sending the ape plummeting down to the ground. Like the ape before it, a large crack sounded when it landed, and it ceased to move.

The third ape was armed, however, holding a blunt wooden sword. It wasn’t sharp, but could still cause a decent bit of bruising if Forzen was hit hard enough with it. And that was exactly what happened.

With a loud smack, the wooden sword came pummelling down on Forzen’s right shoulder as he watched the first ape fall to the ground, sending the purple dragon stumbling backwards as his shoulder throbbed painfully. The sword swung down on him again, but Forzen was quick to react, twisting his head around to bite down on the sword.

Forzen whirled around quickly, swinging the sword around, as well as the ape, as it held on for dear life, before throwing it to the other side of the ring. The dummy staggered to its feet, but it was thrown back to the ground again with a strong gust of wind from Forzen’s mouth.

The ape rolled over, finally managing to get itself up, holding its sword firmly and rushing towards Forzen, a slight limp affecting his gait. It got up close to him, swinging a few times but narrowly missing. The ape then did a low sweep with its sword at Forzen’s legs, but the purple dragon leapt up into the air, before letting loose another strong gust of wind, slamming down onto the ape from above. It was a strong gust of wind, so it continued to push the ape into the ground, leaving behind a small crater underneath it.

Due to the force of the wind slamming down on the ape, resulting in such a large amount of pressure, the ape stopped moving, having been killed.

Killed.

The word echoed in Forzen’s mind, and it made him feel sick. He knew it was an apparition; he knew it wasn’t even sentient. But it still felt wrong. It felt real. The violence, fighting it until it went still… he didn’t like the feeling it gave him.

He’d done a bunch of training like this before, but it was all before Kyoren’s death. It was all before Jaarsol died. Since then, the thought of killing, even in training against artificial opponents felt wrong to him. He was worried that even acting it out would make him want to do it for real. After all, with a father who loved to kill, and who, like him, was a super powerful purple dragon, Forzen was sceptical about anything to do with himself and violence.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Cynder’s voice registered in his ears. “Fair enough. Fairly basic, but pretty good, nonetheless,” Cynder said with a shrug. “Alright, now onto the sound element. None of us have even seen this element before; I don’t even think Spyro has used this one, at least to my knowledge; he doesn’t bring out the sinister elements often.”

Still unknowing about the sinister elements, Forzen was tempted to ask Cynder what she meant by that, but was too scared to ask her. Maybe he could ask Muras or the guardians—or at the very least Torialis and Ash; he didn’t trust Lagenon that much and he especially didn’t trust Frélix—but he didn’t feel comfortable or safe asking Cynder a question like that. She’d just blow up at him and make him stay focused, or just call him stupid for some reason. At this point, Forzen didn’t know what to expect from Cynder. All he knew was that he couldn’t expect many good things to happen from her, at least towards him.

He could also tell that there was a large amount of animosity from everyone else towards Cynder, even since the moment he had met Cynder and Muras. Was she always like this or was she only being super agitated and hateful because he was around?

It wasn’t long before Forzen realised Cynder was speaking once more. Afraid of being yelled at for not listening, he immediately focused all his attention onto her. “Alright, I’ll summon the apes again. Begin.”

She then stepped back, a bit further than she had last round, assuming the sound element was going to be very loud at closer distances. Three more apes materialised in front of him, one wielding a wooden sword and the other two unarmed, much like before.

Forzen was quick to dodge as the armed ape lunged straight at him, its wooden sword pointed at him. He knocked the ape down to the ground, before running towards the other two, grabbing them and throwing them one by one at the one he had downed earlier. They struggled to stand themselves back up as they lay sprawled on top of each other.

From a distance, Forzen watched as they struggled to pick themselves up, and began to prepare an attack against the whole trio of apes. He took a deep breath, before letting out a deafening shriek, indigo sound waves rushing towards the apes, distorting the air around it. The apes, almost successfully on their feet, collapsed back to their knees, placing their large hands over their ears and screeching in pain.

The purple dragon began to close in on the writhing apes, his shriek attack still continuing as he screamed in one long breath. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ash was squirming uncomfortably, before he ended up bringing a paw to one of his earholes. The other guardians, as well as Muras, seemed to look pretty uncomfortable too. He couldn’t see Cynder’s reaction; he almost didn’t want to. He wasn’t even trying to affect them.

To make the situation worse for the apes, he did something he accidentally figured out a few weeks ago: he felt and connected with the sound waves around the apes, before making them vibrate with a higher intensity, increasing the amount of volume around them. Their screaming got more desperate and pain-filled.

Suddenly, the apes went limp, flopping over each other, before dissipating into colourful dust. Forzen closed his mouth, confused. Surely those sound waves hadn’t been strong enough to kill the apes, were they? Maybe Cynder had just ended the fight prematurely.

Or am I really just that strong? Forzen thought.

His mind started to run astray, trying to guess what the guardians might be thinking. Were they scared of him and his power? Would they throw him out? Try to kill him? Weaponise him?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Forzen turned around to look at Cynder. She was still where she was standing before the fight began, out of range of the ring. She would’ve had to step closer to end the fight, right up to the edge of the ring. Forzen’s heart sank. Unless she stepped back again after ending the fight, it looked like he probably just killed those apes with nothing but pure sound waves. Just how loud was his screech attack?

Forzen also noticed that Cynder’s eyes were wide and her jaw slack, as if she was incredibly surprised. But there was also something else in those wide eyes. Was it… was it fear?

The purple dragon’s heart sunk. That seemed to be a pretty easy confirmation that he had in fact killed those apes. He couldn’t have been holding the screech for any longer than thirty seconds. Obviously the volume of the sound was loud enough to kill. The other dragons obviously weren’t dead but they were clearly uncomfortable from the sound levels. So the attack was still loud, but it seemed to be louder inside the visible sound waves.

Fear filled Forzen. Thirty seconds was all it took to kill someone with this attack. It scared him even more knowing that it was only the third time he’d ever used that particular attack; he didn’t realise it was that powerful since he’d only used it on wooden practice dummies. Jaarsol had asked him not to use that attack since it hurt her ears even standing behind him, well out of range from the screech attack. He knew it was still loud to those not being attacked, but he didn’t realise it was louder inside the attack.

What made matters worse was that he knew it’d get way deadlier with practice.

He wasn’t looking forward to training and making this attack stronger. He wasn’t looking forward to having to use it in school. Luckily there were other ways to use the sound element, but right now he absolutely refused to use this screech attack in school. He would never use this on another person.

“What the hell are you?” Cynder murmured under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what?” Forzen questioned.

“What… is that element?”

“It’s… sound?

Cynder didn’t respond. Forzen was getting real scared now. He didn’t like seeing Cynder act that way. He didn’t like seeing her scared. He was worried she would snap at him, attack him, do something to him. He looked to Muras and the guardians and studied their shocked expressions. He didn’t like the looks on their faces either.

“I… I have other things I can do with the sound element if you want me to show you. Other things that… aren’t as dangerous as that attack,” Forzen suggested. “I think.”

He didn’t get an answer. He didn’t know whether they would even say yes or no to him. They all seemed absolutely speechless.

Trying to assume what they would want, considering they were here to study his elements and gauge where he was at, he decided to demonstrate one other thing he knew: sound manipulation. He could essentially make someone hear a sound that didn’t exist. This was easier to do on targets closer to the user, so since Cynder was the closest to him, he decided to demonstrate on Cynder.

That would be one of the biggest mistakes he ever could have done.

Cynder whirled around with a sudden scream, lashing out at the air behind her with her tailblade, before she stopped and recovered with heavy breaths, realising that there was nothing there.

“Whoa, Cynder… are you alright?” Torialis asked.

“I… I thought I heard a… a whisper… a hiss… behind me. R-r-right in my left ear,” Cynder stammered, her strong mask suddenly gone, now seeming incredibly frightened and unsure of herself. “I-I-I don’t know what it was. Was there… a-a-anything at all behind me?”

“No. No, I didn’t see anything,” Torialis muttered slowly, to which the other guardians, and even Muras, nodded.

Forzen shrunk into himself, sweat dripping down his face as he suddenly found it hard to breathe. That was the biggest mistake he could have made; he didn’t know what he was going to do now.

This feeling got ten times worse as Cynder whirled around, looking suspiciously at him. He wilted under her gaze. “Did you see anything, whelp?” Cynder scowled, trying to work her strong, savage mask back into position again.

Forzen stammered wordlessly, before Cynder suddenly raised a claw at him, without warning. He leapt back, crying out in fear as he curled into a ball to protect himself, and both Muras and Torialis were quick to their paws at Cynder’s sudden violent threat. Her gaze flicked to the two older males, before she lowered her paw. She looked back to Forzen, who was still cowering and shaking under her scrutinising, furious glare.

Her words were sharp and filled with rage. “Did you see anything?” she repeated slowly, emphasising each word aggressively.

“N-n-no, there was nothing there. I… I created the sound,” Forzen admitted, his voice small and shaking.

Suddenly, Cynder’s claw flashed across his snout before anyone could do anything about it, drawing small beads of blood. “Why did you do it? To make me look stupid ? To embarrass me? To bring my guard down so you can attack me?!” Cynder accused savagely, closing in on Forzen as he tried to scramble backwards.

Muras was quick to Forzen’s side, immediately jumping to his defence. “Cynder, I’m sure he had a reason, or it was an accident! You saw how strong that screech attack was, Cynder! It looked like he was struggling to contain it all himself!” Muras exclaimed.

“Oh, his reason is because he wants me dead, is that right, you little purple scum?” Cynder scowled.

“No, Cynder… uh… General Cynder!” Forzen pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t want to attack you! I-I-I thought that because the fight was so quick a-a-and that the screech attack was s-s-so powerful… I don’t know, I thought I-I needed t-t-to show off something else that was a b-bit less dangerous! I know I messed up, I should have told you what I was doing, but please don’t take your anger out on me! I swear I n-n-never meant to make you scared, I just w-w-wanted to sh-show what else this element could do! You’ve got to believe me, General!”

“No, absolutely not!”

“He made a mistake, Cynder! Please take it easy on him!” Muras cried.

With a growl, Cynder pushed Muras out of the way, before snatching Forzen up from the ground, carrying him by his nape in her jaws. Out of sudden, unexplained instinct, Forzen curled up in Cynder’s hold like a hatchling; this instinct of curling up in a hatchling hold doesn’t leave a dragon until they hit fifteen. Forzen realised Cynder using the hatchling hold was intentional, to stop him from fighting back, knowing he was still only twelve.

“Cynder? Where are you taking him?” Muras asked, but Cynder didn’t even acknowledge him.

She walked around the training arena and opened a door, entering a medium-sized room that contained a large pedestal, which was large enough for a fully grown adult dragon to stand on. It was very dark inside, apart from the soft blue light from the blue spirit gems that filled the room. Forzen felt fear enter his chest.

“The elemental power reader? You’re really going to attach him to the power reader?” Torialis asked. “We just saw what power he has; why do we need to attach him to it?”

The word ‘attach’ didn’t escape Forzen’s mind. It echoed again and again. He had a feeling he knew what was about to happen, and he didn’t like it. It reminded him too much of… back then.

Cynder dropped him on the floor in front of the pedestal, placing her large paw on top of him to hold him in place, before she turned to look back at Torialis. “Because with that amount of power, we need to know what he’s capable of,” Cynder explained. “There might be something he’s hiding from us, or maybe something he hasn’t yet discovered. The latter is most definitely true as he only currently has three elements; Spyro had six, including convexity, before he turned… who knows what other elements or powers Forzen might have. And knowing where he was raised and how secretive he’s been, there’s a chance the former is true as well.”

“I’m not hiding anything, I swear!” Forzen pleaded.

“I saw your electric attack earlier this morning, whelp! That was a sorry excuse for a lightning bolt, one of the weakest ones I’ve ever seen, and after what I saw and experienced with that sound element, I’m obliged to think you were faking that.”

“I wasn’t! I swear I wasn’t! That was the first time I had ever used electricity! I’ve used sound multiple times! Please, Cynder, you have to believe me!”

“Shut up and cooperate!”

Cynder picked Forzen up by the nape again, before throwing him onto the pedestal. With a paw firmly on him, she reached down with another paw, before the clinking of metal was heard. The paw rose, with a metal shackle in between her claws, with four blue spirit gem crystals running around its circumference. The shackle was just large enough to fit around his midsection; Forzen wasn’t sure if this was a shackle made for an adult’s wrist, or if the shackle was supposed to go around the midsection, and this was made for someone his age.

Forzen let out a cry of help, fighting hard against Cynder, but she was stronger, snapping the shackle shut around his midsection. A chain ran down from the large shackle and into the pedestal. Cynder bent down to pull out more shackles from the side of the pedestal, also decorated with blue spirit gems, and they were much smaller. As she clamped them around his wrists, Forzen realised that this set of shackles was made for a twelve-year-old dragon.

The purple dragon felt sick as he was chained to the pedestal by his wrists, and then his ankles. He felt claustrophobic. He felt abused and betrayed. He was chained up once more.

Memories started to flow freely into his head, but this time, he couldn’t stop them. They came and pushed down on him with no remorse, and fighting back his tears and emotional screams now proved harder than it ever had.

He watched as Muras spoke to him; Forzen couldn’t hear Muras’ words over his own thoughts. He felt like Muras was trying to tell him to calm down and that it would be alright. The way his lips moved looked like he was saying it won’t hurt.

But that wouldn’t matter. The weight of his memories were stronger than Muras’ words. He felt like he was two again.

Forzen turned and watched as Cynder stepped back and pulled a lever on the wall. Forzen felt the chains on his shackles tensing, before he was lifted high into the air by some magical pull. He felt some odd power rush into him, and the chains binding him began to glow a bright blue. It didn’t hurt at all; it was a strange, weird feeling, but it wasn’t painful.

His memories were painful though. They continued to weigh down on him, stronger and stronger the more he remained chained up. His heart raced, his lungs fought for breath, and his throat began to constrict. His eyes began to water, and he felt the first tear slide down his cheek. The first tear in… however many months now, he had forgotten. It might have even been years since the last time he cried.

Suddenly another tear dripped down his cheek. Then another. Then another.

They wouldn’t stop coming.

THEY WOULDN’T STOP COMING.

The first scream tore from his throat: raw and shrill, long and harsh. He paused for a heavy, hoarse breath that he had to fight valiantly for, before he screamed again.

The blue light that emanated from the spirit gems began to get stronger, before they began to change colour, the colours displaying the amount of raw magical power that lay dormant in Forzen’s body. Slowly, the gems turned into a soft purple.

It unnerved everyone with how Forzen’s screams continued to get worse and worse the longer he stayed chained up, and the more the gems continued to progress to the colour spectrum.

“Why’s he screaming so much?” Cynder exclaimed. “It’s not that painful.”

Soft magenta filled the room.

“Unless you infused him with your fear element as revenge for earlier; we know you and your temper, Cynder. That sounds like something you would do,” Ash growled.

“Guys, look at the colour!” Frélix exclaimed.

It scared everyone seeing how close to red the power levels got, with red being the highest reading level that anyone had seen before. Only Spyro had ever reached red, back when he was tested; Cynder had reached a deep, warm magenta, but it definitely wasn’t as red as Forzen’s was. Forzen’s levels were even redder than Muras’ levels, who had been tested about five years ago, just out of Cynder’s curiosity. Usually dragons were tested during high school, usually when they were seventeen or eighteen, but sometimes adults were hooked up to the power reader too, hence the large size of the pedestal.

“Oh, ancestors,” Cynder murmured.

“Why’s that whelp still screaming?!” Frélix scowled. “It’s done the reading; it’s not reading his energy anymore.”

“I swear, Cynder, if you infused him with your fear element—” Ash threatened.

“I did no such thing!” Cynder snapped.

“That’s a load of sh—”

“No, Ash! Cynder’s right!” Muras interrupted. “That’s not evidence of a fear coma in his eyes, that’s… oh ancestors, I think he’s having a trauma episode! GET HIM OUT OF THERE!”

Torialis rushed to the lever near Cynder and pulled it to the off position, the intense almost-red glow in the room returning to a soft, calming blue. Muras sprinted towards Forzen, catching him as he fell back to the ground, before he proceeded to rip off Forzen’s bindings. As soon as Forzen was free, he leapt onto Muras’ chest, clinging onto him for dear life as he cried. And cried. And cried. He didn’t stop. It was more than just regular crying.

Muras was definitely right; this was some sort of trauma response.

What had happened to him to have such a heavy reaction? What memories had the power reader brought up? He needed to know, but the last thing he wanted to do was pry, especially when the memories obviously had this effect on Forzen.

What had Spyro done to him?

Chapter Text

Muras lay down with a sigh. It was late evening, and he hadn’t really done much after Forzen’s training session aside from getting some food for dinner, which was considerably small considering he still wasn’t up to eating large amounts of food after going several days without eating. Forzen hadn’t eaten, as he had cried himself to sleep and hadn’t woken up since. Muras had taken the young purple dragon up into a spare room in his house so he could at least sleep comfortably.

Aerus had ended up coming with him for dinner, and Muras had told him everything that had happened so far throughout the day. Unlike his sister, Aerus seemed to be much more open about Forzen, despite still having his doubts and concerns about him. Aerus was actually quite concerned for Forzen, but he wasn’t willing to approach Cynder about how she treated him. Despite her being his sister, she had changed over the last few years. She was way more aggressive and emotionless, and her temper had shortened significantly. Aerus would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of her.

It still surprised Muras how quickly his friendship with Aerus had sparked back up. When Aerus had first arrived in Warfang twelve years ago, they had been pretty good friends for the first few days, until Muras’ identity as Malefor was revealed to all of Warfang, and Aerus began to hate him. He even began to hate Cynder, as she was the one who brought Muras back to Warfang.

But it seemed like a day of being possessed by a demon together was enough to bring them closer than they ever had been. Really, they were the only ones there for each other. Everyone feared those who were possessed, especially Muras. After all, he had nearly committed rape during his possession. The purple dragon could never forgive himself for that, even though he knew that it was completely out of his control; even Cynder knew this, and she didn’t blame him for it, as much as the event and images scarred the both of them.

The other possessed dragons had managed to be accepted back into regular social life, but Muras wasn’t so lucky. Even Aerus wasn’t. Being the brother of Cynder, it wasn’t a surprise that people were cautious around him. It felt just like his childhood again, where everyone thought he was like the Terror of the Skies since they were related.

Muras and Aerus were the last to be properly and fully accepted back into society, and they bonded over that. They were there for each other. Aerus was hesitant at first, but he knew that anything that Muras did under Naar’voth’s control was not his fault. There were no ulterior motives or deeply hidden desires underneath his actions; his actions were all completely controlled by Naar’voth. Aerus knew this because he too was controlled by Naar’voth. Sure, his actions were not as extreme, but he did and said so many things that he never in his right mind would have thanks to Naar’voth’s control, and that alone made him look past his caution. For that, Muras was thankful.

It had taken about five years for Muras to return to regular society, and even then he had been on and off between shutting himself away or willing to come out and be open. The events of Armageddon weighed down on him so heavily that he had spiralled into a very depressive state, so much so that about a year and a half ago he started toying with thoughts of suicide. He never went through with it, thinking immediately to Jorgustus and Farill and his promise to himself that he would never go out the way his best friend and his foster brother did, so instead he started cutting. However, the thoughts never went away, as he wondered why he was still here, his past weighing down on him so heavily he didn’t think the memories would ever go away.

But then Forzen came.

Forzen reminded him of his purpose, of why the ancestors brought him back to the living realm. He had to be there for him, to continue teaching him where Jaarsol left off, to help guide him in the right direction, to be there in times of need.

Muras thought back to Forzen, having just checked up on him before lying down on the carpet in his living room. Even in his sleep, the young purple dragon looked upset. Forzen was so troubled and affected by everything around him that it concerned Muras greatly. He didn’t know the specifics of Forzen’s childhood, but he knew that growing up in Dark Peak would have subjected him to many, many horrors. Forzen had mentioned a few things that had happened, but Muras knew that was not everything. Getting bullied and beaten by the other kids, the death of Kyoren and eventually the death of Jaarsol… Muras knew there was more to Forzen’s story than that. He wanted to know more so he could help the twelve-year-old purple dragon, but Muras knew pushing would be the worst idea. Forzen still barely trusted Muras. He didn’t trust anyone.

Aerus had volunteered to try and talk to Forzen during their conversation at dinner, and Muras had shut the idea down, at least for now; Muras doubted the younger purple dragon would open up to anyone any time soon, whether it was him, the guardians, or someone else. Cynder was out of the picture considering what she put him through during the ‘training session’. The problem was, Cynder had to supervise some areas of his training, specifically with his wind element, and Muras knew that would be a massive problem for both parties—Cynder absolutely loathed Forzen, and he was terrified of her. He only hoped that they would at least put up with each other while they were in training.

Muras sighed, before reaching up to his bookshelf and grabbing his journal and a quill. He opened up the book and began to write in it. Journaling was something that his therapist had suggested to him seven months ago, to be used as an exercise to let out his thoughts and emotions onto a page to help him process everything better, rather than keeping them in his head and taking it out on himself or someone else.

He wrote down the events of the day, before he closed the book and put it and the quill away. He let out another sigh, feeling a bit lighter now that he had practically vented all his thoughts onto the parchment in the journal.

Muras then stood and made his way back to Forzen’s room, wanting to check in on him again. The young purple dragon remained curled up on the floor, his lips curved downwards in a frown as they had been since he had fallen asleep. At the same time however, he looked calm. It was so odd to see Forzen this way, as he was constantly fidgeting and cautious and scared about everything during his waking hours, or at least what Muras had seen of him since meeting him a few hours ago.

It was good to see Forzen calm though. It brought him a sense of peace. It was good to see Forzen not fearing about everyone and everything, and to see him still and in a calm, deep sleep. He looked so deep in sleep that it didn’t look like he was going to wake up any time soon.

Trying to figure out something to do, as he walked back into the living room, his bookshelf caught his eye. He hadn’t read much in a while, which was surprising since he had been quite a big bookworm ever since he was a kid. His depressive state had often got in the way of wanting to read, and he found himself reading probably half as much as he usually did. The times where he did, he found it was an amazing escape from reality.

He decided maybe he could pass some time by going to the library and borrowing a few books, also hoping to find something to distract himself from the thoughts around Forzen’s ‘training session’ earlier in the day.

As he stepped out of his house, he looked up into the sky, noticing how high Adrano was in the sky; it was getting quite late. Luckily it was Laoday, so the library was open late. Despite that, Muras knew it was getting close to the library’s closing time, so he had to be quick.

Muras speed-walked to the library, making his way to the counter. He made his way to the romance section, the section he frequented at the library, and began to browse, trying to find something that interested him. There were several he skipped over, as he had read quite a large amount of romance books over the last twelve years he had spent in Warfang. He grabbed three novels, all of them making up a trilogy, and placing them in his satchel ready to borrow out.

The purple dragon skimmed through a few more romance books, contemplating getting a fourth book to take home, but he paused as an idea came to his mind. He thought back to Forzen; he wouldn’t have had too much of a chance to read that much, and especially not fiction. Muras wasn’t sure if Jaarsol had taught him how to read or write, but considering Jaarsol had gone out of her way to teach Forzen extra things outside of what Spyro had asked, he assumed that maybe she had, considering how important the ability to read and write is.

Muras was starting to think that maybe getting a few books for Forzen would be a good idea; it could be something to keep him occupied at home, as well as something to help him practice his reading. It could even be something the two of them could bond over.

With that, Muras turned and made his way out of the adult fiction section and into the teen fiction section, knowing these would be much more appropriate for a twelve-year-old. While Forzen probably could grasp and handle some of the concepts tackled in some of the adult fiction due to his upbringing, Muras didn’t want to risk accidentally triggering him, or exposing him to other things that he had not yet been exposed to.

Unsure of what books to get for Forzen, he figured he’d get a variety of books, to play around with genres and to hopefully find out what Forzen liked. Trying to find some of the shorter books, Muras made his way through romance, drama, fantasy, coming of age, picking one from each of them. He completely skipped over ones that he thought Forzen might react negatively to, such as thriller, horror, and dystopian fiction. With the fantasy one he picked out he took extra caution in finding something that didn’t seem to lean so heavily on the notion of ‘dark magic’.

He wanted to find something that gave Forzen as little memories of Spyro and Dark Peak as possible; after all, reading was meant to be an escape into another world, to be able to enjoy yourself as you engage with the story and characters. Muras didn’t think that anything too violent or dark would be good for Forzen, even though he was in the teens’ section.

Putting the four smaller books in his satchel, he took them to the counter, where an ice dragoness in her sixties stood with a small smile on her face. “Good evening, Muras. What are you lending out today?” she asked; all the librarians knew him by name, mainly due to him being the only purple dragon in Warfang for so long, but also due to his constant appearances in the library.

“Just these ones please,” Muras said, pulling the seven books out of his satchel.

The librarian’s eyes widened as she took note of some of the books that he had placed down in front of her. “Some different genres I see,” she said. “These are from the teen fiction section as well.”

“I may have taken on a mentee today, and he’s staying at my place due to him not really having anywhere else to live,” Muras explained, keeping the details vague since Forzen was still largely unknown throughout most of Warfang. “He hasn’t had the hugest amount of education either so I don’t know how good his reading or writing is, so I figured getting him some books would help aid him in the reading aspect.”

“That’s a good idea, and really nice of you, might I add,” the librarian said as she started to check out the books, writing them down in a list with Muras’ name beside them.

Once the books had been checked out, Muras put them back in his satchel, thanking the librarian with a slight nod, before turning and making his way back home. He was a little nervous, hoping that Forzen would at least be somewhat appreciative of the books he had gotten for him.

Forzen hadn’t been the most grateful person in the few hours Muras had known him, but Muras couldn’t blame him for that. Forzen wasn’t the most trusting of dragons around, especially considering his backstory, of which Muras was sure he probably only knew about fifteen percent of, if even that. The only reason he even knew so much about Forzen was because the guardians made him talk about some things, which Muras just happened to be there for. Even then, Forzen was pretty vague about a lot of things; he knew that the younger purple dragon had left many details out.

It didn’t take long before he got home. Straight after walking in, Muras made his way to his bedroom putting the trilogy he had rented out for himself on his table, before he turned and walked over towards Forzen’s room to check on him.

Upon opening the door slightly, Muras had noticed Forzen was stirring, waking up slightly with a big yawn. Muras knocked on the door softly to announce his presence, before opening it up a little more. “Hey, Forzen. Are… are you feeling better?” Muras asked softly.

Forzen jumped slightly at the sound of Muras’ voice, before he frowned with a sigh, turning his head away. “Not really,” he murmured.

“Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Is there… anything you want to do at the moment?” Muras asked out of curiosity, trying to hold down his sad yet frustrated sigh.

“It’s not about what I want to do, Muras. It’s just what I want.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“For everything to be normal, whatever that even means. I just want there to be no more killing, no more fighting, no more horror. Just… living a normal life! Like Jaarsol said she used to. Like I know Cynder used to.”

Muras felt his heart sink, not expecting that response but knowing full well that he should have expected something along those lines. It was horrible; no child should ever have to wish something like that. A child deserved to live a happy life, with friends and family. Forzen deserved to have that. But he didn’t. He never did.

All the other kids he had been raised with had all been corrupted, turned into killing machines, similar to how Cynder had become the Terror of the Skies. Other kids had lost parents due to the war, like the little girl he found during Armageddon, and even more so, like Du’ryal, the son of Jaarsol, whom Forzen had mentioned a few times over the course of today.

Muras couldn’t help but think about the children he had orphaned too, under the guise of Malefor. He had always known that adults weren’t the only ones affected by war, but every time he saw a child suffer with his own eyes, the realisation hit him harder and harder. It made him realise just how much more damage he caused as Malefor. After what Forzen had said, after meeting him… after thinking about the girl from Armageddon and Du’ryal—even though he had never actually met the null—it hit him harder than it ever had.

Now he was thinking of Cynder. She was thirty-five now, and although she was well into her adult years, he couldn’t help but think of the childhood he stole from her. Her stolen childhood was something that haunted her strongly even now; Muras could see it. She never had a chance to be a kid, to grow up, to be loved. Now she wasn’t even getting that chance as an adult. Whatever progress she made over the eight years between Malefor’s defeat and Spyro’s fall into darkness had all been reversed.

His thoughts quickly returned back to Forzen with a sigh, trying to think of anything he could say to Forzen to make him feel better. The poor kid just wanted normalcy in his life. Muras looked down at his satchel, which still held the four books he had borrowed out for Forzen.

Luckily, he was actually able to offer Forzen a sense of normalcy. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be something.

“So uh… about that, I wanted to ask if you knew how to read and write? Or at least read?” Muras questioned.

“Yeah. I guess so. Jaarsol taught me how to read at least. The writing, not so much, although we did do a bit of it more recently… before our attention was put more towards escaping,” Forzen replied. “Why the sudden question?”

“I thought you might want to… perhaps read a book with me?” Muras suggested. “It could help continuing to practice your reading skills, and it could be something to help us bond a bit more, which I think would be good before training and proper mentoring starts up. Even if you wanted to do it by yourself more often that’s fine; I borrowed out four books from the library for you to try out. Plus, now that you mention wanting a bit more normalcy in your life, I think this might be a good way to try and introduce a bit of it.”

“What genre are they? I don’t want anything like horror.”

“No, I made sure to avoid those types of books. I got romance, coming of age, fantasy, and drama. I can come over and let you have a look at the books if you want; you can decide which ones we read.”

Forzen let the offer hang for a while. He sighed, before answering softly, “Fine.”

Having been given permission, Muras finally stepped forward, sitting down beside Forzen, who was sitting up from his lying position. The older purple dragon took the satchel off, before pulling the four books he borrowed out from inside it, placing them out in front of Forzen so he could see them.

The younger purple dragon looked at the books, unsure what to pick. Forzen looked up at Muras, uncertainty in his eyes. Muras just gestured silently towards the books, urging Forzen to pick one. Forzen looked back at the books, before hesitantly reaching out and grabbing the coming of age book, Identification Fountain. Muras just nodded, before he grabbed the other three books and put them back in his satchel.

With that, Forzen opened the book up to the first page, confused at the publication information lying on it. Muras just smiled, knowing that this was the first actual book Forzen had ever opened. Muras reached forward and flicked the pages over past the dedication and the contents page, stopping at page one of chapter one, and urging Forzen to begin reading.

He could read. He was slow and stumbled over a decent amount of words, but Muras was happy he was attempting to learn, and giving each word a try before looking to Muras for help. They got through three chapters, before Forzen had decided he’d had enough.

Muras wasn’t surprised; it was getting a bit late, and it was a lot of reading to do at once for someone who was learning. As he listened to Forzen read, he realised he should’ve looked for something a little easier for him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to get a childrens’ book. He felt that would be a little inappropriate and maybe a bit of a hit to Forzen’s ego, as well as his maturity. But, Forzen was doing well, and Muras was there to help him along the way.

Forzen gave a yawn, feeling tired once more, despite sleeping the early evening away. Muras assumed he just hadn’t had much sleep over the last few days. Constantly trekking through the wilderness to get as far from Dark Peak would’ve probably been like that. Even at night time, Forzen was probably way too paranoid to fall asleep properly, and might have been keeping an eye out in case he got ambushed in the middle of the night. He’d had a massive day today as well; even Muras felt like today had been the length of three days almost.

The older purple dragon put a bookmark in between the pages at the start of the fourth chapter, before closing the book. Forzen gave a wide yawn as Muras did so.

“Are you… enjoying the book so far?” Muras questioned.

“Yes,” Forzen said simply, fighting back another yawn.

“That’s good to hear. Anyway, I’ll leave you be now; it’s getting late and you have had a massive few days, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve slept since I left Dark Peak a few days ago,” Forzen replied.

Muras just nodded with a small smile. “Alright, sleep well, Forzen. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, before turning and making his way out of Forzen’s room, closing the door behind him.

He felt beyond happy. Spending time with Forzen, helping him to read… it was a special moment. There was no tension or arguing between them, and he almost felt like they were actually connecting over this story that neither of them had read, like they were connecting over this time of teaching Forzen to read. It was great, and he felt happy… legitimately happy.

He hadn’t felt this way for months, maybe even years.

The purple dragon made his way to his own room, pausing to look up out of the window and into the night sky, where the cool, soft orb of Adrano sat suspended in the sky, shining brightly on the quiet city of Warfang. He closed his eyes, and began to pray.

“Aloelle, every event happens in a certain way, for a certain reason, determined by the holy spirits in the Ancestral Realm. Please let them know that I thank them for Forzen,” he prayed. “I don’t know if it was a way for them to show me my worth, or for reasons involving Forzen’s life that I couldn’t possibly know, but I thank you.

“I just pray that I don’t mess up with Forzen, and that you help me do all I can to help him. I pray that you’ll help Forzen with all he’s going through as well, and maybe, even help him open up a bit more.” Muras paused, wiping a tear from his eye. “I… I pray for Cynder, too, that she’ll warm up to her son eventually. She deserves to have her son in his life, and Forzen deserves his mother in his. So… help her, please.”

He sighed, looking out at Adrano for a little longer, before turning back and lying down on the ground. So many thoughts circled through his head, but one lingered. He smiled, thinking about tonight, just sitting down and reading with Forzen. Something as simple as reading, but helping him with his literary skills was a big thing, and his first step as a mentor. It was a special moment for Muras.

With the final, joyful thoughts, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep, eagerly awaiting the next day with Forzen.

Chapter Text

“Focus, Forzen.”

Muras stood in the training arena, standing in front of three large wooden targets. A day had passed since Forzen’s arrival in Warfang, and he was training already. He had been reluctant to come down and start, but he had eventually complied.

To start with something easy, Muras had decided to start work on his lightning element, especially as it was his newest one, and one they both shared. Before they had begun, Muras had given him a brief rundown on what an essence core was, because he would be using a lot of vocabulary involving his core. It had been somewhat interesting, but Forzen tried not to make himself look too interested. He didn’t want to open up too much or get too close to anyone.

His mentor’s voice sounded once more. “Feel the power flowing through your core, and the steady beat of your heart. Breathe deeply, and focus,” Muras said, and Forzen closed his eyes, slowing his breathing and hearing the thumping of his own heart in his ears. “Yes, that’s it. Now feel out your lightning element and focus on your essence core. What do you feel?”

“I feel… energetic, somewhat. Like… something’s trying to get out. My chest is tingling,” Forzen explained, his eyes still closed, pausing as he tried to focus on his core. “I feel like there’s a force welling up in me, wild and unpredictable, just waiting to come out.”

“Alright. Take a deep breath and focus on it. When you exhale, expel the power inside you.”

Forzen took a deep breath, feeling air flow through his nostrils, down his windpipe and into his lungs. The welling energy inside him stirred even more. Then he opened his mouth and exhaled, allowing the energy to rush out of his core. He felt it rush through his body, up into his throat, and out of his mouth. There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a few sizzles, as a large beam of lightning shot out of his mouth—still weak compared to those of other lightning dragons he had seen in Dark Peak, but a powerful beam nonetheless.

Forzen opened his eyes to see what he had done. He was a little off aim from the target he was meant to attack, noticing the zap mark on the ground right beside one of the wooden dummies, so he moved his head slightly so he could hit the target again. Once more, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before he let the electricity fly out of his maw, and with a loud, sharp crackling sound, he hit his target. Forzen closed his mouth, and looked at the dark scorch marks left on the wooden target. He had done it!

He swallowed his excitement, not wanting to show it. But he couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at his lips. Muras was beaming. “Great job, Forzen. Try it again. This time, do it with your eyes open,” he ordered. “Watch your target. Focus on it. Call upon the power in your essence core and let it grow, and then take aim, before you let it out.”

Forzen nodded, before he stared intently at the target. He then called on his electricity element. He felt his core well up with energy, his chest tingling. He kept his gaze on the target, and took a deep breath, feeling the tingling static make its way up to his throat and into his mouth. He exhaled, and the lightning came forth. Forzen’s eyes widened at the beam of lightning he was breathing now. It was only his fourth one for the day, and already it seemed stronger than the last. Not as strong as it could be, but it would still cause quite a significant sting in another creature’s body.

“Great job, go again,” Muras said.

He continued for about five minutes, before he was able to release a decent beam of lightning. The target had black scorch marks all around it now, and once Forzen was getting a good breath attack going, Muras grabbed the target and chucked it out of the training ring, before standing in its place.

“Alright, use it on me,” Muras ordered.

“What? Why?” Forzen exclaimed. “I-I-I don’t want to; what if I hurt you?”

“It’s a controlled environment, Forzen, and it’s only me. I also want to get you used to this type of environment, since by the time school starts up for you, you’ll be duelling against your classmates during combat classes,” Muras reassured, and Forzen’s eyes immediately widened with horror at the thought of it. “Try not to worry too much about it, Forzen. It’s a controlled environment with a supervisor, and it’s the best way to get a semi-realistic battle scenario without putting students in too much danger. In times like this as well, it’s also necessary to teach so that even the students have a good idea on how to protect themselves.”

“I… Okay…” Forzen murmured, still freaking out about the concept.

“Now,  I want you to use your lightning breath on me,” Muras repeated.

Forzen blinked, trying to force away the internal screaming in his head. He didn’t think he was ready for this. He was afraid Muras was moving too fast. But at the same time, he was too scared to say that.

He just stood there and took a deep breath, before he reluctantly obliged, lowering his torso down to the ground in a battle stance. He felt the static energy form up inside his essence core, the feeling getting more and more natural every time he did it.

Lightning shot out of Forzen’s maw towards Muras, who stood firm, awaiting the beam to hit him. He bit back his groans as electricity coursed through his body, quite visibly as arcs of electricity snaked between parts of his body. He stepped back, groaning with pain, as he shook his head to right his swirling vision.

Forzen watched his mentor with worry filling his eyes. Muras finally recovered, noticing Forzen’s expression. He gave him a soft smile to try and reassure him. “I’m alright, Forzen,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Did… did it hurt?”

“Yeah, it did. But… it was good. You’ve already picked it up pretty quickly. It’s still a bit weak, but with some work, we can get it to average pretty soon, I reckon, and then we can aim for brilliant,” Muras replied, before adding with a wink, “I think you picked it up even faster than I did.”

Forzen blushed at Muras’ praise. Unable to hold his mentor’s glance, he turned his head away, looking at the marble ground below him. “I guess you’re not used to the praise, aren’t you?” Muras asked softly.

Forzen’s only reply was a shake of the head. He didn’t want to elaborate more, wanting to forget those memories, but they came up anyway. The discrimination, the anger, the beatings. The only dragon that ever praised him was Jaarsol, but she was gone. Kyoren was… tolerant… of him in the few moments they met, but only because of Jaarsol. Forzen remembered seeing the hatred in Kyoren’s eyes. Or was it fear? It had been so long ago, he couldn’t remember. There might have been fear in his eyes every time they met, but if there was, it didn’t compare to the utter terror in his eyes when Spyro murdered him in cold blood.

“Forzen? Are you alright?”

Forzen’s eyes snapped back to Muras, who wore a concerned look on his face. Forzen was confused as to why his mentor would be confused, until he felt moisture in his eyes. Dang it, go away, tears! Forzen thought, wiping his eyes aggressively before the first tear could let itself free. Stupid memories bringing up the tears! I can’t cry! Not anymore! I’m not a baby! I’m not weak!

Muras’ sigh caught Forzen’s attention. “Forzen, when was the last time you cried?” Muras asked.

“Why are you asking? To see how weak I really am?” Forzen scowled, choking on his emotions.

“There’s nothing wrong with being emotional. But there’s plenty wrong with keeping all the emotions in, bottling them up. It’s unhealthy and will hurt you in the long run,” Muras explained.

“Well, I cried yesterday. Is your memory that bad?”

“No, when was the last time you really cried? That was forced; you weren’t in your right mind when you cried yesterday. You were controlled by your trauma; whatever the traumatic experience was, I won’t press on it now. I want to know the last time you actually cried, when you let the tears come.”

“Fine, you want to know?! Last time I cried was nine years ago, when I was three! It was the first time Jaarsol ever expressed love to me!” Forzen snapped.

“Wait… you haven’t cried in nine years? Since you were three?”

“Yeah, I used to cry all the time in the first three years of my life, but I managed not to make such a big deal of it. When I met Jaarsol… I absolutely bawled my eyes out when she showed me love; I’d never felt love like that before. Spyro eventually got word that I had been crying a few days later, and then beat it out of me when Jaarsol was helping with another task. I never cried again.”

There was a long silence. Muras sighed sadly, before he spoke up. “Forzen… if you ever feel the tears coming… if you ever feel the need to cry… don’t fight it. Let the tears come. I swear it will help you so much more than keeping the tears in ever will.”

“I don’t believe you. To cry is to show weakness. In a time of war and judgement, weakness is never a good thing. I need to stay strong, so I can at least survive my teenage years.”

Muras opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it, sighing sadly and shaking his head. Forzen let out a low growl. “Let’s just get back to training. I don’t want to linger on this topic anymore,” the younger purple dragon muttered darkly.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Muras said, recomposing himself. “Alright, I’m going to create some dummies for you to practice your lightning breath against. I would use the dark dragons but you’re not ready for them yet, and I would use apes but I saw how much you struggled fighting them yesterday, considering they are still technically ‘living beings’.”

Forzen nodded, muttering a small ‘thank you’ under his breath, but Muras didn’t make any sign of acknowledging him. Muras stepped out of the ring, and Forzen swallowed hard, his heart beginning to race. This was the same situation as yesterday with Cynder and the guardians. He knew Cynder wasn’t here, but it still frightened him a little. Maybe they started training a bit too soon.

Maybe he shouldn’t do this. He didn’t like violence. He’d seen too much of it already. He thought of D’varin beating him up, Spyro killing Kyoren, the violence around him as he escaped Dark Peak, and even worse, Spyro beating him . Then there were the events of yesterday. Getting attacked by the shadowclaw and fearbringer, getting beaten by the fire and earth dragon Cynder had created in the training ring. Cynder beating him up.

He’d hoped for years that his mother would be there for him, wanting to care for him, after him being gone for almost twelve years. But his mother was just as abusive as Spyro was to him. Both his parents had beaten him. Forzen knew that that wasn’t always the case, because he had been alive before Spyro turned, back when he and Cynder were still mates. But he had no memory of that time. No memory of the love his parents had for each other, and no memory of the love his parents had for him. No memory of the love he had for them.

“Are you ready, Forzen?” Muras voice cut through his thoughts.

Forzen blinked, almost having forgotten where he was, before he looked at Muras and remembered. Hesitantly, he nodded.

With that, four wooden bipedal dummies materialised in the ring, each of them holding wooden swords. Forzen started immediately with a beam of lightning, hitting one of the dummies square in the chest. It staggered backwards, electricity coursing through its body. A second dummy lunged at Forzen, sword raised, before Forzen swung his tail around and knocked the dummy to the ground. He breathed another beam of lightning at it, immobilising the dummy as it writhed on the floor.

The third and fourth dummies were running towards him now. Forzen stood strong as he breathed lightning at the third one, but missed, as they both tackled him to the ground, whacking him with their wooden swords. At least they were blunt wood, which would only leave bruises, unlike Derilan’s sharp metal sword from yesterday—he still wore the scabs on his shoulders from the slash wounds.

Forzen felt the static building up in his core, but before he could guide it through and out of his mouth, it burst out of his chest in a powerful shockwave of lightning, throwing both of the dummies off him. He widened his eyes, stunned at what he had just done, before he stood up, looking at the two immobilised dummies on the ground.

The first two from earlier had recovered, and the first one was now rushing towards him. Forzen ducked underneath the swing of its sword, but the dummy then thrust its left knee upwards, ramming it into his chest. Forzen groaned, collapsing to the floor as he held his throbbing chest. The dummy was on top of him, raising its sword to ‘finish him off’.

For a moment, Forzen could only see Derilan, on the verge of killing him, sword poised to strike at his heart the same way the wooden sword was. Forzen growled, forcing the frightening image out of his head so he could focus properly, and expelled lightning energy out of his body once more, throwing the dummy off him.

The second dummy was now onto him. Knowing he needed to remove it from the fight, he breathed lightning at it and immediately leapt on top of it, before he began to punch its head relentlessly, before it fell still. Forzen then felt the other three dummies jumping on top of him, tackling him to the ground, but he expelled more lightning energy from his body, throwing them all to the floor again. He grabbed the head of the third dummy and ripped it off, sending pieces of straw into the air, before he threw the head at the fourth dummy, which was on its feet ready to lunge at him. The dummy fell to the ground, dropping its sword on impact.

Forzen then leapt at the forth dummy, picking it up by the neck in his jaws and flinging it at the first dummy, sending them both crashing to the floor. He slugged the fourth dummy in the head with such force it remained still, and then he did the same with the first dummy.

Once the last of the four dummies had been slain, the adrenaline rush began to fade. Forzen stood back at the carnage, staring at it with shock as everything came back to him with much more clarity. He had done this. He knew they were just dummies, and it was just training, and there was no way he would ever let himself be so blinded by adrenaline that he would attack another dragon, but he was still greatly unsettled by the carnage that he had created.

The straw in a way represented the wooden dummies’ blood, and there was quite a fair bit of it on the ground where the head and torso of the third dummy lay, but other than that, he had done a pretty clean job of killing the dummies. Even Muras seemed impressed. Was it because he had killed them, or because he had done it cleanly with little straw spillage?

Muras spoke up. “Great job, Forzen,” the older purple dragon congratulated. “That was nice and quick, and you did it very cleanly. Not much straw on the ground apart from the one head you ripped off; most of the kills came from head trauma. Lots of guys your age and older go for ripping whatever they can get to off, but I think you try and go for the clean approach, and I appreciate that. With the dark dragons we’re dealing with however, clean might be a bit difficult seeing as the only way to kill them is to hack into them or behead them, so it’ll be a bit messy. But it’s good seeing you cautious of spilling blood. It might create a very interesting fighting technique.”

Forzen nodded, but something about what Muras said didn’t quite sound right. The only way to kill them is to hack into them or behead them. Not necessarily. Forzen had seen some very smart slaves when he had escaped. His escape had been the perfect time to try and fight back, and they didn’t want to create anymore mess than they had to. He had seen fire dragons use their element to fry the dark dragons from the inside, lightning dragons filling their bodies with so much electricity that the gems inside them shattered, wind dragons building up air pressure around their opponents so that they got absolutely crushed, without spilling huge amounts of blood.

Forzen decided he should show Muras this. He had electricity after all, and he felt he had a pretty good grasp on how to use it even after only one day of training. Muras said he had learned quickly, and even mentioned that he was faster to learn things than a lot of other younglings were.

“Muras, that’s not true,” Forzen replied.

“What? I’m sure it’d be an interesting fighting style.”

“No, not that! I mean the… the comment you made about being messy when it came to the dark dragons,” Forzen explained. “It’s possible to be clean about it; I’ve seen it. I saw the slaves at Dark Peak do it when I escaped. They revolted… they fought back while everyone was distracted by my escape.”

Muras rose an eyebrow, unsure whether he could believe Forzen. Forzen sighed, knowing that Muras wouldn’t be able to believe him without a demonstration. He’d hoped just saying it was enough, but it wasn’t. “Give me a shadowclaw or something, I can show you,” Forzen pleaded. “I think I have a strong enough grasp on my lightning element to do so.”

“Absolutely not , Forzen! I can’t… I won’t… give you any dark dragons now! You’re not ready!” Muras exclaimed firmly. “I know you’re doing well with your lightning element but it’s only day two! You’re not ready for dark dragons yet!”

“At least let me try.”

Muras paused; it looked like he was almost angry at the persuasion and determination in Forzen’s voice. Forzen knew this was something he could do. Yes, it would mean he would now be fighting a dragon, but it was one of Spyro’s dragons. He was also long overdue the chance to actually beat up one of Spyro’s dark dragons; they’d done so much horrific things to so many innocent people. Even him. They beat him on occasion too.

He was everyone’s punching back; it was time one of Spyro’s dragons became his punching back for once.

Now was the time to let out his pent up emotions… his pent up rage on Spyro’s dragons, in a safe way, where the shadowclaw could be called back at any time.

“Fine,” Muras spat eventually. “But one shadowclaw. Only one. I’ll give you a little one too, to not make it too hard on you.”

“Sure, whatever. Do what you want. Just create it already.”

“You know the shadowclaws’ weakness?”

“Muras, I lived with them! Of course I do! In fact, their anatomy was one of the things Spyro had Jaarsol teach me.”

“Tell me anyway,” Muras demanded, more out of fear for Forzen than anything.

“The dark gem inside their chest right next to their heart,” Forzen groaned with a roll of his eyes.

“Okay, I’m just making sure, Forzen,” Muras said, before stepping back slightly, preparing to summon a shadowclaw into the ring. “Let… let me know if you need me to call it back.”

And with that, the familiar black-scaled form of the ugly shadowclaws began to materialise in front of Forzen. His heart was racing, but he needed to do this. Both to show Muras that killing a shadowclaw can be done cleanly, and even more so, for himself: to finally kill one of Spyro’s demons, and to also build his confidence. He had noticed he’d been really shy and nervous about training earlier this morning. If he was going to be going to school sometime soon, he needed to get rid of his nerves. This was a good way to do so.

Forzen took a deep breath and glared at the snarling shadowclaw that was materialising in front of him. When it had formed completely, it opened its eyes, its glowing purple irises staring into his soul. The shadowclaw was the first to move, lunging towards him with a hideous snarl. As shadowclaws were the size of a regular adult dragon, Forzen was smaller than it, even though Muras had made this shadowclaw a little smaller than normal ones were. The massive size allowed Forzen to dodge the shadowclaw’s attack fairly easily, since Forzen was way smaller than it. The shadowclaw was quick to turn around before lunging at him again with a roar.

Forzen wasn’t quick enough this time as he was tackled to the ground, the shadowclaw snarling on top of him, saliva dripping down its jaws. Forzen felt fear enter his body. This was literally the real thing. He knew it was artificially created, but it was real. And he could die from doing this.

But he couldn’t die. He didn’t want to. So he fought back. He let out an electric pulse, throwing the shadowclaw into the air, before it landed on the ground with a heavy thud. Forzen got up and ran to the shadowclaw, which was already on its paws. It breathed a huge stream of shadow fire, and Forzen let out a yelp as he leapt back, trying to avoid the black inferno. But it spread quickly, and soon, it had engulfed Forzen. He cried out in pain, feeling the unbearable heat trying to eat into his body, until he remembered his wind element.

Although he wasn’t completely trained in it yet, he was still able to use it, so what was stopping him? He let his lungs fill with air, feeling his essence core begin to feed off the air, before he opened his mouth and let out a gust of wind which pushed back against the fire. It dispersed due to the air currents around Forzen, before he stepped backwards and broke into a sprint, running around the inferno to see the shadowclaw, a little confused at what had just happened.

Forzen leapt at the shadowclaw, clinging onto its neck. He opened his mouth and bit down on the shadowclaw’s nape, feeling the metallic tang of blood hit his tongue. He almost gagged, but he ignored the taste as he focused on his lightning breath. He released it, sending the electricity rushing wildly into the bloody puncture wounds he was leaving with his teeth, and into the shadowclaw’s body. It growled and collapsed to the floor, writhing. Thrashing.

The young purple dragon held on with all his might, trying to dig in further with his electrified jaws, but the shadowclaw was thrashing so hard that he was struggling to. With a mighty swing of its neck, Forzen was sent flying off the shadowclaw, sending a few small sprays of black blood with him. As well as the wet, grotesque sound of flesh ripping and blood squirting, there was the sound of a shatter. A few spots of purple mist began to float out of the bite wounds in the shadowclaw’s neck. Forzen spat some blackened saliva to the side, before he smirked. He was already half-way there.

He staggered to his paws, only to be knocked down with the shadowclaw’s tail, as it roared with rage. Forzen was now trapped underneath the shadowclaw’s strong paw, its claws curling up, digging into his flesh and drawing crimson blood. Forzen bit back a cry of pain as he breathed a wild beam of lightning at the shadowclaw’s face. It snarled as it stepped off him, and Forzen quickly got back to his paws.

The shadowclaw let out a roar as it turned around to stare at him. The flesh around its left eye was swollen and oozing with pus, and gunk hung between its eyelids. The glow in the purple iris was a lot duller than it normally was. The lightning had obviously caused horrendous trauma to the eye, but most of the trauma was invisible due to the eyeball itself being black, as was the blood.

The shadowclaw lunged at Forzen, who launched himself to the side, narrowly missing the shadowclaw’s attack. It spun around with a snarl and attacked him again, but missed as Forzen leapt backwards. Forzen retaliated with another beam of lightning, aimed at its chest, and the shadowclaw stumbled forward, but caught itself before it could fall on the ground. Its knees and elbows were trembling furiously, but it was still holding strong, as it let out another roar.

It lunged towards Forzen again, and its paw managed to connect with Forzen’s body, sending him flying off to the side, landing on the ground with a heavy thud, followed by a painful slide across the marble ground. The shadowclaw ran towards him and brought its claws down on his flank, drawing more red blood, which began to spill down his flank and onto the floor.

The shadowclaw rose its claw to strike again, but Forzen breathed another beam of lightning at the shadowclaw, aiming for the other eye this time. The shadowclaw howled in pain once more, stepping back. Obviously furious and annoyed at the pain in its eye, it began clawing at its face, before pulling the eye out with a hideous spurt of black blood.

Forzen screwed up his face. He’d only ever seen a dark dragon do something like that once at Dark Peak; he couldn’t remember the reason why that fearbringer had cut its tongue out, but it had. And now the shadowclaw standing before him had only one eye, blood streaming down its face and smeared all over the ground where it had discarded the eyeball.

Forzen realised he had been wasting time. The shadowclaw was distracted, for the ancestors’ sakes!

He leapt forward, clinging onto the shadowclaw’s neck, and allowing more electricity to travel from him into the shadowclaw’s body. More and more purple mist began to bellow from the wounds in the back of its neck, before it began to wobble where it stood. There was suddenly a loud shattering sound, and the bellowing purple mist burst from the neck wound, and even began to seep out from between some of the scales in its chest, as the shadowclaw collapsed.

Forzen got off the shadowclaw’s corpse, shuddering at how much violence he had just been a part of. The thought disappeared from his mind as he heard Muras gasp, rushing towards the corpse. He stammered with awe, pawing at the shadowclaw to make sure it was dead. Once he was satisfied, he turned to its chest and began to delicately open it up, causing black gore to run profusely out of the chest.

But Muras could see what he was looking for. The sound of the shatter could only have signified one thing. And it was true. Inside the shadowclaw’s chest lay a dull crystal with shatters in its geometry; purple mist rose ominously from the cracks inside it, as it lay suspended next to the still heart.

Muras turned to Forzen with a look of shock on his face. “How in the ancestors’ names did you manage to do that? The only blood you spilled was the tiny droplets in its neck; ripping out the eye was all its own doing,” Muras exclaimed.

“I overloaded its body with electricity, causing the crystal in its chest to surge with too much power. With all the power the crystal has, being overloaded with so much more causes it to swell and shatter, therefore ending the shadowclaw,” Forzen explained. “It’s similar to if it gets shattered any other way.”

Muras, with his jaw dropped, looked to the shadowclaw corpse and then back to Forzen. “How long did it take to figure that out?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen it before. I saw all the slaves do it. I didn’t get much time to stop and properly analyse it but I knew the dark dragons’ anatomy well enough to know what was happening to them,” Forzen replied. “It’s nice and clean, and very easy. I mean… not as easy as hacking into it like a feral creature, I imagine, but fairly easy. The venomfangs and fearbringers are a bit trickier, given how deadly the venomfangs are, making it harder to get close to them, and once fearbringers put you in a fear coma, you’re basically in their claws. Their essence crystals are also in different places, but the idea is essentially the same.”

Muras nodded slowly, taking in the information. “I’d better let Cynder know sometime. That would be a great help to her and the army,” he said, and Forzen shrunk in on himself with embarrassment.

However, this movement caused the claw wound on his flank to rub together, and Forzen winced with pain, sitting himself down on his haunches and bringing a paw to his flank. Muras was quick to notice. “Are you alright?” he exclaimed quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Forzen replied. “I’ve been through worse pain. Just need a bit of cleaning up and a bandage and I’m good.”

“We do have… red healing gems in here?” Muras murmured, gesturing to the corner of the training room to where the red gems were stored.

“Oh. Sorry, I forgot,” Forzen murmured. “Jaarsol and I never had much at our disposal. Bandages were hard to come by too as there were no leaves. We cleaned any wounds I ended up getting with the water that grew in the ground between the rocks, but it didn’t help very much.”

“Well, you have them now, and I think it would be good if we started using them,” Muras explained. “They’re over there in the corner. Go heal yourself up and then we might call it a day.”

Forzen just nodded, before he stood and slowly made his way over to the chest in the back corner of the training room, opening it. The red light that came from inside blinded him for a moment, before he finally saw just how many red gems were inside it, gawking at the sight.

Once he recovered from his surprise at the sheer amount of red gems there were, he reached forward and grabbed a few, holding them against his wounds, feeling them close slowly. He sighed with relief as he took in the warm, soft sensation; it felt good not to have to deal with wounds for so long.

The memories began to fill his head again.

Forzen growled with annoyance, slapping himself in the face to try and get rid of them. The memories always came up out of nowhere, and Forzen hated it. The feeling of helplessness swept over him, as he remembered every punch, ever kick, every claw that raked down his body. Rocks had been thrown at him too, and he remembered the heavy weight that had been on top of him.

He whimpered, before closing his eyes tight and shaking his head side-to-side. He slapped himself once more, the memories finally stopped, and he was back in the now. His racing heart took a little longer to calm down, but finally he did.

He sat there for a little while, before standing up and closing the chest of red gems when he was ready. He made his way back to Muras, who Forzen could tell was clearly wanting to ask him if he was alright, as he usually did; it was an annoying question at this point. Yet, Muras didn’t voice the question, which Forzen was thankful for. The younger purple dragon just gave a smile at his mentor, which Muras could see through, but he didn’t press on it.

Finally, they turned and made their way out of the training arena, calling their first day of training finished.

Forzen believed that it had actually gone fairly well. It went… way better than he was expecting.

Chapter Text

Two more days passed, and things had gone well in Forzen’s training sessions with Muras. They’d continued sessions on the lightning element, mainly because it was so far the only element that he and Muras shared. Muras had tried to help him a little bit on wind, but due to him having no actual knowledge on the element or tips on how to use it, he figured it would be best to leave the wind element sessions to Cynder. Forzen was not looking forward to those. Sound hadn’t been focused on at all since the very first training session upon his arrival on Glaenday.

Muras had also taught him other things as well; they had spent more time reading through Identification Fountain, as well as flight, and many other important things that he would need to be able to navigate in his life. Most of these were things Jaarsol hadn’t taught him, whether it was due to time, no space to practice in terms of flying, other things getting in the way, or it wasn’t important at the time.

The first thing Forzen had learned was the days of the week. Each day was named after a notable ancestor or draconic god. The week was comprised of the days Glaenday, named after Glaenfel, the goddess of peace; Vielday, named after Viello’an, the first fire dragon; Marouday, named after Marou’an, Viello’an’s great-grandson and the dragon who discovered the ancestral gems; Xurday, named after Xur’gotha, an ancient light dragoness who led her kind in a war against fire dragons; Lorinday, named after Lorin’var, the goddess of love; Laoday, named after Laoghra, the draconic god of magic; and Aloeday, named after Aloelle, the first purple dragon. Laoday and Aloeday were the weekends, where most people were able to have the day off from work or school.

Forzen was still struggling to get his head around the names, but he could remember that today was Xurday, only because Muras had said it yesterday.

Muras had also been getting Forzen out in the open a bit more recently. Forzen wasn’t sure if he was ready for it yet—he’d been out while going to the training arena and back to Muras’ house, and he already felt like that was enough.

Everyone gave him odd looks as he walked through Warfang: looks of concern, looks of fear, and some of the looks he was given were… threatening.

He knew why he was receiving those looks: people were scared of him.

Word had most likely spread that he was Spyro’s son—in a city like this, Forzen was positive word would spread quicker than he could track it—and it had left many citizens worried that he was a spy in hiding or a vessel of power on the verge of breaking.

Right now however, Muras and Forzen were on their way to the Warfang Academy to meet with the principal before the school week began on Glaenday. My twelfth hatch-day, Forzen thought, and almost instantly regretted thinking those words.

He was sure this hatch-day would be a horrible day for him, just like all the others before it were. Being his first day of school, being an outcast, being forced to be in closed rooms with all these kids he had never met, that he knew would hate him… it was just asking for him to be beaten. It was the last thing Forzen wanted, but he was already mentally preparing himself for it, even though his hatch-day wasn’t for another four days.

I’ve been beaten almost every hatch-day for my entire life. What’s one more hatch-day to be beaten on? he thought with a scowl.

How many times are you going to say that to yourself? the other part of his brain snapped at him. How many more hatch-days are you going to get beaten on, where you’ll brush it off and say it’s fine because every other hatch-day has been the same? It’s not normal!

At this point, I’ve stopped caring.

He knew how horrible kids could be; he’d spent enough time with other kids to know what they were like. They only cared for themselves and always put down those who were different, never listening to the outcasts. And he was the outcast. Not only was he new, but he was Spyro’s son . He was as much a victim of Spyro as they were, but they wouldn’t see that because Spyro was his father. No matter how much Forzen tried to correct them or tell them the truth, they would just shut him down and attack him, verbally or physically.

These were teenagers too. He knew they would be even worse.

Forzen was there were no students roaming the halls freely, allowing him to be able to walk the halls safely, with Muras by his side. He was already overwhelmed enough as it was; the school building was ginormous . There were signs with arrows saying where everything was: all the classrooms, the offices, the lunch hall.

They walked down a hall that contained all of the teachers’ offices, before they came to a stop at the one labelled ‘Principal: Hyrath V’alkryn’. Forzen swallowed hard as Muras knocked on the door, feeling sweat dripping down his face.

“Come in,” came the muffled call.

Muras opened the door, revealing a medium-sized, neatly kept office, where Cynder, Torialis, and another earth dragon, presumably the principal, sat waiting for them. Cynder appeared to have a frustrated, angry look on her face, but from what Forzen had seen of her already, he assumed she always looked like that. He was incredibly nervous about being around her yet again. He didn’t need the nerves she gave him upon the nerves of speaking with another dragon he didn’t know.

“Ah, Muras. You’re here at last,” Hyrath said. “I take it this is young Forzen?”

“Yes, Master Hyrath. It’s my pleasure to meet you,” Muras replied politely, nodding his head slightly.

Hyrath just blinked at Muras. “Likewise,” he deadpanned, his tone speaking different words to what he actually said. “Now, come and sit down. Let’s chat for a bit.”

Muras nodded and moved forward into the room, before sitting down, taking one of the two spare seats of the four chairs laid out in front of the principal’s desk. Forzen followed closely behind, wincing as he saw the only spare seat was between him and Cynder, with Torialis sitting on the opposite side of Cynder.

Finally, he sat down, feeling dwarfed in the room as both Cynder and Muras sat either side of him, and Hyrath directly in front of him. Forzen looked up at the principal and gulped under his judgemental gaze. He had only been in Hyrath’s presence for a few seconds and he already didn’t like the principal.

“Welcome, young Forzen,” the principal spoke, forcing Forzen out of his thoughts. “My name is Master Hyrath. I’m the principal of the Warfang Academy, as well as the Ancient Dragon History teacher. I trust you will enjoy your time here and that you will behave well and politely.”

Forzen blinked. He could very much pick up the threat that was hidden underneath the sentence.

“Before we get too far into anything, I must ask if you have had any prior lessons involving our society and culture,” Hyrath continued. “More importantly, you will need to be literate. It’s all assumed knowledge that parents will normally teach their children to read and write, but knowing your… situation… you may not have that. Torialis has already filled me in about your situation.”

Forzen stayed silent, staring awkwardly at his paws, before Muras nudged him gently in the shoulder with his elbow. “He wants you to answer him, Forzen,” Muras whispered.

“Oh, um…” Forzen stammered nervously, looking up at Hyrath and feeling the sweat drip down his face once more. “I don’t know too much about the culture here or… how things work. But… I am somewhat literate, I guess. I can read okay, and I’ve done a little bit of writing, but I wouldn’t be able to do it too well at the moment.”

“Okay, then. Muras, I hear you’re his mentor right now and that he’s living with you, am I correct in that assumption?” Hyrath questioned.

“Yes, Master Hyrath,” Muras replied.

“Well, until Glaenday, I want you to make sure he can read and write fairly decently. Most dragons his age will have already had two years of school, as well as past learning experiences with their parents, so he’s already behind.”

“I’ve already been doing some reading with him, and I can definitely get to work on helping him learn to write,” Muras said. “He’s a fast learner; I believe he’ll be able to pick it up quickly.”

“I will hold you to that for when he starts classes on Glaenday,” Hyrath said, with a sense of a threat underneath his words, before he stood and addressed Forzen. “Now, I will take you on a brief tour around the school, but one of your peers will give you a more detailed tour on Glaenday once you start.”

Frozen gulped after that last piece of information, knowing that none of the students here would like him, and would likely not treat him well. He was sure there wouldn’t even be anyone willing enough to give him a tour. But, not wanting to get into trouble, he said nothing, before standing and following Hyrath, as did Muras, Cynder and Torialis, who all shadowed behind him and Hyrath.

They walked out of the office hall and down the class hall. Hyrath pointed out all the different classrooms: the Physical Education courts, the Magic Studies and Science labs, the Maths, Literacy and History classrooms, and the Combat arenas. The lunch hall was the next thing: a huge room filled with tables, and a kitchen to the side of it.

The tour had gone alright, Forzen had to admit. It was very intimidating knowing that he would be starting school soon, and Muras wouldn’t be there with him. Forzen knew Muras was way past the schooling age and would have already been through school, as well as the fact that he didn’t want to seem weak by needing an adult there with him all the time, but the idea of being alone in a place where no one knew him scared him. The idea of being alone in a place where everyone would hate him scared him. The only people that he had ever felt comfortable around was Gur’ath and Jaarsol, and they were both gone. And as much as he didn’t like to admit it, Muras was slowly sneaking into his list of trustworthy people. He wanted Muras to be there with him.

Forzen had been as polite on the tour as possible, wanting to make the best impression of himself as he could, but he just couldn’t suppress the nerves and shyness as well. He didn’t exactly want to be known as someone who was always so self-conscious and nervous, but he knew that was exactly who he was.

As they walked out of the school once the tour had finished, Forzen noticed a few young dragons, definitely in their older teenage years by their size and body structure, just across the courtyard where the school was. They glared at him, and Forzen already felt himself shrinking. He looked back towards Muras and followed him, not wanting to look at the teens.

Back on the road again, Muras had suddenly decided he wanted to go out and buy lunch today. Forzen was heavily against that idea, not wanting to be in a place where so many people would see him, but Muras forced him along, knowing that if Forzen was going to live here, he needed to get used to being in society, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

Muras just didn’t understand! He didn’t know what it was like to get those hateful or fearful looks headed his way, having silent judgements made when people only look at him, and having parents calmly move their children away at the sight of him, despite pure fear and hatred being evident in their gazes, betraying their calm stature.

Not wanting to argue and make a fool of himself in public, Forzen reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t like he was having much of a choice anyway; Muras would have gone whether Forzen wanted to or not, and there was absolutely no way Forzen was going to walk back home on his own.

When they got to the restaurant, the noise of chatting guests quietened fairly significantly as most of them saw the purple dragon duo walk in. Forzen felt sick. He had a feeling all the dragons here were used to Muras, but him ? He felt like they judged him even more so when he took his physical appearance into account, something he hadn’t actually done before. Last he saw himself was in a lake when he was wandering the forest before Muras and Cynder found him. He had the same horn structure as Cynder, and they were silver as well. Muras had told Forzen that before he was born, it was apparently common knowledge in Warfang that Spyro and Cynder were mates. Having such a resemblance to Cynder in just the horns only meant it was blindingly obvious who the father was.

Forzen looked over at Muras and saw him scouting the restaurant for a table, and his eyes widened as he spotted one and walked over to it. Forzen followed, wilting under the hundreds of pairs of eyes on him.

He felt even smaller when they walked up to the table to see a large grey dragon sitting at it, eating a big slab of meat. “Aerus, fancy seeing you here!” Muras exclaimed, and the grey dragon replied with a happy greeting.

Muras and this grey dragon, Aerus, obviously knew each other very well and were close friends. Forzen took a closer look at Aerus and had to hold in his gasp as he saw a feature on his body that was all too familiar to him. The horns. Dear ancestors, the horns! They were the same as his and Cynder’s! Did that mean that… that Aerus was related to Cynder? Even more so, related to him? Forzen hoped that if Aerus was related to him, that he would at least treat him better than Cynder had been.

It didn’t take long for Aerus to finally notice Forzen. He reacted way better than Forzen thought he would, expecting a fearful cry or sudden weariness. A slight air of caution rose up in Aerus, but it was far from as strong as Forzen would have expected.

“I take it you’re Forzen?” Aerus asked, to which the younger purple dragon nodded. “I’m Aerus. I guess… I’m your uncle.”

“My… my uncle?” Forzen murmured.

“Yes. I’m Cynder’s brother.”

Forzen nodded, looking down at his paws. He wanted to ask if Cynder at least loved him too, but he immediately decided that would be rude, and he almost didn’t want to know what the answer was. It was almost better believing Cynder was a heartless monster that couldn’t feel emotions, not even towards her own son.

“Muras told me about you. I know about the situation involving your escape and why you’re here, so please don’t feel uncomfortable around me,” Aerus murmured. “I’m not like my sister, I promise.”

“So you know about how she beat me and broke me on Glaenday,” Forzen deadpanned.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Okay, Muras I don’t care if it’s with a friend or not, can you not go around talking about the dragoness who used to be my mother that disowned me beating me up, please?” Forzen asked darkly as he turned to Muras with an almost angry expression.

Muras gulped, before he opened his mouth to speak. “Forzen, I—”

“In fact, just don’t say anything about my sad, sorry excuse of a life, okay? I am trusting you, the guardians, and against my will, Cynder, with some of the details of my personal life, so don’t you dare go spreading them around, okay?”

Aerus gave Muras a very sad, disappointed look, and Muras had to fight back the tears as he realised he’d already violated his mentee’s trust.

“Now, are we here to order some damn food or not?” Forzen asked, not even giving Muras a chance to respond to his rant.

“Uh… sure. Yeah, we can order something,” Muras stammered.

They then ordered their lunch; Forzen got a chicken salad and Muras got a grilled deer flank. Aerus inquired why Forzen didn’t get anything meat-centred and Forzen shyly replied with, “I’m not a fan of meat.”

Aerus finished his lunch a little while after they ordered, and pretty soon, he and Muras were deep in conversation. Forzen just sat patiently and waited, not wanting to butt into the private conversation his mentor was in. Aerus suddenly let out a loud yell as he looked towards the corner of the restaurant, obviously seeing someone he recognised. He stood and walked off towards where he had been looking earlier, and Muras stood and followed. Forzen opened his mouth to say something, but they were gone before he could.

Forzen sighed. He could get up and go with Muras and Aerus, but someone needed to be at the table in case the food came. So he stayed and sat there, still waiting for his lunch.

It wasn’t long before a voice sounded from behind him. “Hey, purple!”

Forzen turned around and saw the same teenagers from earlier walking up behind him. There were five of them: an earth dragon, two fire dragons, and two electric dragons. The earth dragon was the biggest, and most likely the leader of the group by the way he stood tall and confident, and the other four stood behind him like a supportive posse.

“Me?” Forzen asked, pointing to himself with a claw.

“Yeah, you.” the earth dragon snapped, stepping towards Forzen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, moras’tov?”

The posse chuckled at the word. Forzen obviously had no idea what it meant by the confused face he made, but he had a feeling it was an insult towards him. “I… I’m just here for lunch,” Forzen replied, trying to shrug off the insult.

“Uh-huh. Why are you in Warfang?”

“To… to get away from war and violence. And also because my mentor lives here.”

“Mentor? You don’t mean the other moras’tov you were with earlier?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what a moras’tov is.”

“Why don’t you ask your ‘mentor’ then?” the earth dragon asked, receiving a few more chuckles from his gang. “Now, moras’tov, answer me, and answer me truthfully. I saw you leaving our school just mere moments ago. What were you doing in there?”

“I… I was—”

“The truth, moras’tov.”

“Can you stop calling me that?!”

“I don’t think so, now answer the question! What were you doing at our school?!”

“Well… I was having a little… tour there. Muras wants me to go to school so I can make some friends and learn more from other people. He says he can’t teach me everything , so he thought it was a good idea for me to get educated.”

“A tour, huh? I did notice General Cynder and Master Torialis were with you two moras’tovs, and I guess if you were having a tour in there, that means you’re going to be going to our school when it starts on Glaenday, hmm?”

“Uh… yes?”

Quick as a flash, the earth dragon’s claw was across his face, leaving a small bloody gash across his snout. Forzen reeled backwards, clutching his snout and groaning in pain. Why had the earth dragon clawed him like that? What did he do? What did he do wrong?

The earth dragon just laughed at his pitiful reaction and leaned forward so they were face-to-face. His gaze was terrifying and his breath stunk. “Listen closely, moras’tov. Those schoolgrounds are ours, got it? You take one step out of line and we will beat some sense into you.”

Forzen shuddered and had to suppress his whimper. Those words only made him think of the times Spyro had beaten him, the times D’varin had beaten him… the times all the other kids at Dark Peak had beaten him. Forzen was beyond terrified, and he felt trapped. He began to shake. He wanted to get out of this place.

One of the fire dragons in the posse spoke up. “But Fjor’gand, he’s a purple dragon. He could be dangerous just like Spyro or Malefor. If we beat him… he could kill us.”

The earth dragon, Fjor’gand, turned with a snicker. “Well, if he tries to kill us, we’ll just have to kill him first,” he chuckled.

“Won’t that be… dangerous?”

“Look at him. He won’t have it in him to even try and fight us. He’s about to soil himself right now. Imagine what happens when we really beat him to a pulp.”

With that, the posse seemed convinced, as they smiled hideously at this suggestion. Everyone in the restaurant seemed oblivious to what was going on. Forzen tried to look around for Muras, noticing him in the far corner of the restaurant, with his back turned to the table.

Forzen wanted to call out to Muras, but he knew he’d just get clawed at again. He just had to sit and take the verbal punches.

“Oh, are you scared, moras’tov?” Fjor’gand mocked, chuckling lowly. “Don’t worry, we won’t kill you unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s as simple as this: don’t attack us, and don’t step out of line.”

He then gave a slow, threatening laugh, before turning to leave. Forzen watched as the rest of the posse was about to turn around as well, each of them preparing to move.

Fjor’gand threw everyone off guard as he suddenly whirled back around with frightening speed, wrapping a paw around Forzen’s throat and slamming the back of the purple dragon’s head against the table.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t still give you a good beating every now and then,” Fjor’gand growled.

The earth dragon rose a fist and slugged Forzen in the face three times, before turning and finally leaving, chuckling hideously with his friends. They left the restaurant, and nothing inside the restaurant seemed different. Nobody had even noticed the sudden violent act, nor did they hear the remarks of Fjor’gand.

Or maybe… they didn’t care that a purple dragon was getting beaten.

Forzen sat himself back up properly, rubbing his sore snout with one paw and clutching his throbbing eye with his other. He started to think he didn’t want to go to school. If Fjor’gand and those bullies went to the school he was going to go to, he didn’t want to go.

The young purple dragon jumped with fright as he heard pawsteps, and quickly turned towards the sound to see Muras and Aerus returning to the table, deep in conversation. Forzen couldn’t help but feel angry at them for leaving him alone, leaving him open, so the bullies could pounce on him when he was alone. His glare was icy and strong, and Muras, who was talking to Aerus, quickly broke off into silence at the sight of Forzen’s stare. Muras then reeled back with a gasp. “What happened, Forzen?! Your left eye is red!” he exclaimed.

Forzen groaned. So he had some external damage in his eye. Probably a result of Fjor’gand hitting him in the face.

But that didn’t matter.

Muras had left him alone.

Muras had left him vulnerable.

Muras had left him.

This was all Muras’ fault, and he couldn’t keep his voice down when he started speaking.

“You left me! You left me here alone! Vulnerable! This group of teenagers spotted us leaving the school, the same school they go to, and followed us here, waiting until I was alone before they pounced on me!” Forzen shouted, not caring about Muras’ shocked expression. “They called me names and attacked me! Threatened me! Saying that if I ever stepped out of line at school they’d give me a beating! That they’d kill me!”

“I… I’m shocked.” Muras muttered. “I didn’t think you’d become a target that quickly.”

“But I did! What do you think would happen when you have the reputation and the links that I have? When you come from where I came from? When you got up and left, I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen! When you tried to get me out of the house today, I tried to get you to change your mind, but you wouldn’t listen! You’re trying to get me into the open too quickly! I know you’ve been struggling, and now with me, your ‘purpose’, as you call me, being around, you may be ready to get back into Warfangian society, but I’M NOT!”

“Forzen, I—”

“DO YOU EVEN CARE?!”

Muras reeled back at the scream, staring at Forzen with… what looked like fear. Aerus didn’t speak either, and he seemed fearful as well. But there was something else in those grey eyes. Was it… compassion? At least Aerus was willing to care for him. His eyes showed it. All that was evident in Muras’ eyes were fear. Fear of him.

Muras didn’t care about him.

Muras was scared of him.

Was everything Muras told him a lie? That Muras wanted to be his mentor? That he cared? That Forzen was Muras’ ‘purpose’?

Was the only reason Muras brought him in… to keep him under control? To guard him? To watch his every move? Secretly treat him like a criminal?

Sure, Muras looked shocked at the revelation that Forzen had been beaten by bullies, and he had been so persistent on stopping the violent acts towards him. But was it because he thought that those actions brought upon Forzen would turn the young purple into a dark creature like Spyro?

Forzen couldn’t trust Muras anymore.

It had only been three days since he’d met him, and Forzen had already lost his trust in his ‘mentor’.

It broke Forzen. He had actually thought that maybe, just maybe, Muras was worth trusting. That maybe he understood. Either he really didn’t understand or he was just dumb.

This is what he got for placing his trust in someone he only just met three days ago.

With a growl, Forzen stood up and left the restaurant. He didn’t bother looking back, but he could feel Muras’ gaze on him. He could feel… everyone’s gaze on him.

Once he was out of the building, he broke into a sprint, not caring where he was going. He ran down a narrow street, almost knocking dragons’ paws out from underneath them due to his carelessness. Frightened, panicked screams tore through the streets who saw the runaway purple dragon, fearing for their life as they thought he was on a violent rampage, looking for another unfortunate soul to add to his genocide. The screams made him choke back tears as his heart ached for someone to love him. His heart ached for Jaarsol.

Suddenly, he fell to the ground after colliding with something, landing on top of it in the fall. The sound of screaming and the feel of heavy kicking registered in his mind, and when he looked down, he saw he was on top of an ice dragon, looking to be about two years old. He quickly scrambled up to his paws, but slipped and fell again, cutting her across the right eye as his tailblade flailed about. He screamed as he watched the blood slowly dribble down her eyelid, scrambling back to his paws and immediately creating distance between himself and the youngling.

Forzen turned and broke into a sprint, his heart racing with adrenaline, but was suddenly hit on the tail with a freezing beam of ice. It almost felt like his tail was about to be ripped off as he came to an instant halt, his tail being frozen to the ground. He gulped. A hatchling didn’t have that much control over their element.

That must mean…

The young purple dragon looked behind him and let out a shrill scream when he saw an enraged ice dragon rushing towards him, icy mist bellowing from his nostrils. This was the hatchling’s protective father, there was no doubt about that.

Forzen tugged on his tail, attempting to use brute force to break it free from the ice sticking it to the ground, but it did no good except strain his tail. He then tried breathing a beam of electricity at the ice to break it, but a heavy blow to the face by the ice dragon did that for him, knocking him backwards at incredible speeds, breaking him free from the ice. He landed into the wall of another building with a heavy crack, and the air rushed out of Forzen’s lungs.

He fell to the ground and groaned, trying to lift himself back to his shaky paws. He hardly made it up as he was struck down again. And again. And again. Forzen pleaded with a croaky voice for the dragon to stop, but he did not relent. He could taste his own blood on his tongue. The ice dragon suddenly swung his large, icy tailblade around, delivering a heavy slice to Forzen’s gut. Blood spurted from the wound and a pained scream tore from Forzen’s throat.

“How dare you attack my daughter like that, you demon?! How did you even find your way into Warfang without being seen?!” the angry father snarled. “Just because you’ve taken the illusionary form of a child doesn’t mean we can’t tell who you are!”

“I’m not Spyro, I swear!” Forzen pleaded, spitting up blood as he spoke.

His attacker drew his tailblade across his chest, spilling more blood and forcing another scream from Forzen’s throat.

“Then you’re a spy! A mercenary!”

“I’m not, I s-swear! I-I-I’m telling the truth!”

The ice dragon swore as he continued hitting Forzen. He was sure he was going to die. He looked around, and saw in the distance the little girl he had run into, clinging onto another ice dragon, slightly younger than he was—most likely her brother.

A loud crack snapped Forzen from his thoughts, pain flaring through his left wing as the ice dragon rose his fist from above his now broken wing. The ice dragon had walloped his wing so hard that it snapped against his back. Another fist hit him, tearing another cry from him. It was much weaker now, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Forzen needed to get out of here before he was killed. This dragon was going to kill him over an accident! He had left Dark Peak to get away from the violence, not ask for more!

He had been out in public before when making trips to the training arena, the Warfang Temple, or Muras’ home. Why hadn’t people attacked him before? Was it because Muras was with him? Was him being alone the reason why people finally found the courage to attack him?

A burning sensation flared across his right eye as the ice dragon raked his claws down his face. He squeezed his eye shut, trying not to let the welling blood spill into his eye. Forzen knew he needed to get out of here. No more staying around and lingering on unimportant thoughts.

Escape was the only important thing on his mind.

Survival… life… was what mattered.

But he didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to cause violence or be a part of it. He didn’t want to make himself look bad by resorting to violence.

So how was he going to escape?

Electricity was a no-go, and he didn’t think there was anything useful he could do with wind. The only element left was sound, but after how his first set of training went, there was no way he would let out a sound-infused roar at his assailant. That would kill him. So, he had to rely on the very thing that he had gotten in trouble with Cynder for doing.

He had to create a sound illusion.

Forzen had no clue what the ice dragon beating him had heard, still being unable to fully control what he was doing, but the ice dragon whirled around with a frightened roar, tailblade poised and ready to strike. Realising his chance, Forzen scrambled to his paws and ran for his life. Ancestors damn it, everything hurts! he thought, blood streaming from his face, chest and stomach, splattering on the cobblestone ground.

Before long, he realised he’d made an even worse mistake as he ran straight into the markets of Warfang, one of the busiest parts of the city. He quickly realised that he had an even worse image than before, as blood covered his body. The blood streaming from his chest and stomach wounds had dripped down onto his paws, making him look a lot less innocent than he once looked, although he knew ‘innocent’ was not a word that Warfang associated with someone like him: a purple dragon… Spyro’s descendant.

He didn’t have much time to try and hide himself or turn back, before two large dragons ran towards him, both bearing the fire element. Forzen let out a cry of fear, trying to speed up, but failing miserably as he stumbled over the tail of an elderly ice dragoness. He could hear the complaints in the distance, but couldn’t make out the words, especially with the two fire dragons hot on his tail.

The world around him started to get incredibly hot, before his ears suddenly acknowledged the savage roar of flames behind him. He tried to increase his pace once more, but failed again as he slammed into a stone pole, too focused on looking behind him at the inferno rushing towards him. The fire engulfed him, and he let out a croaky cry of pain as he felt his scales and flesh peel away. The sound of hissing, burning flesh reached his ears; it was a disgusting sound.

Eventually, the fire ceased, and Forzen gave a sigh of relief. That didn’t last long however, as he felt a heavy paw press down on his burned, sliced open chest, searing pain exploding throughout his body. Forzen looked up into the wild crimson eyes of one of the fire dragons pursuing him, smoke bellowing from his nostrils.

“Look here, Purple!” the fire dragon spat. “You have no right to be in this city! You may not look like Spyro, but all purple dragons are the same! Deceitful, demonic creatures, deserving nothing but death! I’m surprised the purple dragon Cynder brought back is still alive, after everything he did!”

Forzen began to curl up in fear, not even realising what the fire dragon meant in his last sentence. This moment was all too familiar to him. Turn his surroundings into a cave, and turn the scales of the red dragon on top of him into a dark indigo, then it’d be an exact repeat of a past scenario that still haunted him.

“Get off me! Get off me, please!” Forzen pleaded, feeling the tears starting to break free once more. “I don’t want to cause any trouble, I just want to get out of here!”

The fire dragon didn’t pay heed to Forzen’s pleas as he brought his claw down on him. Pain flared through the left side of his face, leaving behind a matching bloody claw wound on his face that mirrored the right side. The damage and swelling given to his left eye by Fjor’gand intensified this pain too.

Forzen’s agonising screams filled the air, and by the look on the fire dragon’s face, it was music to his ears. Music, to hear a creature as evil and dangerous as a purple dragon screaming in pure agony.

Forzen felt the fire dragon’s claws again, this time down his flank, before the claws flashed across his chest, digging into the cut that was already there from mere moments earlier with the angry ice dragon.

The other fire dragon was just standing there and laughing, hurling insults at him, before he decided to join the torture as well, punching him in the face several times. The heavy blows he received were so hard that his head was knocked backwards every time, slamming with incredible force back into the stone pole that he was lying on his back against. Forzen was surprised he hadn’t been knocked out yet, but he absolutely had a very heavy concussion.

His head ached, and he suddenly began to feel sick. The dragons could see it, as one of them punched him stomach, hard. Forzen lost all control of his body as he was forced to puke. His torturers stepped back as to not get any of it on themselves, and proceeded to stand there laughing as Forzen threw up on himself. His bloody wounds stung as vomit splashed over them.

Suddenly, he felt jaws clamp down on his broken wing, and he was lifted into the air and thrown to the side, landing with a crash inside a blacksmith stall. He screamed as his tail landed in an open fire, but he was physically too weak to pull it out, his head still throbbing from the amount of punches it had taken. He pleaded to the blacksmith, another fire dragon, to help him out, but the blacksmith just stood there, frozen in shock and fear at what had happened. As a matter of fact, all business in the street market had halted after the sight of the purple dragon running into the markets with blood dripping from his body.

The two attackers barged into the blacksmith stall, sending a wooden rack with cooling metal appliances flying everywhere. The flat of a sword that was still red-hot landed on his flank, touching his long cut, feeling his raw flesh sizzling. A shriek of pain left his throat, and he finally found the energy to thrash about, throwing the sword off his body and removing his burned tail out of the fire, but he suddenly felt a heavy paw slam down on top of his back, pinning him down to the ground as he lay on his stomach. The two fire dragons were on top of him once more.

Forzen needed to get out. He needed to do something, or else he was going to die.

Using his electricity as a last resort, he expelled a strong pulse of lightning from his body, sending his two attackers and the blacksmith standing a few metres away flying backwards, groaning in pain as electricity coursed through their bodies.

Forzen felt like he had no strength to get to his paws, but he knew he needed to. He needed to get out of Warfang, somehow. He struggled to his paws and began to limp slowly out of the decimated blacksmith stall.

Upon seeing him stumble out, an earth dragoness opposite the stall spat an earth missile at him, which slammed straight into his head. It shattered on impact, and spots filled Forzen’s vision as he fell to the ground once more. Everything hurt like hell.

That last hit was the last thing that he could take. He welcomed death now. He wished for it to come quickly. He lay there, waiting for the next punch, claw, slash, bite, whatever. He wanted to die so he didn’t have to deal with this pain anymore. Straight to the ancestors he would go, and all would be find. No more pain. No more suffering.

No more Warfang.

No more Cynder.

No more Muras.

No more Spyro.

He suddenly felt a set of jaws clamp down around his nape, as gently as they could. Forzen could only moan in pain as a response. He felt the breath of the unknown dragon whooshing onto the back of his head from his nostrils.

He tried to look around but everything hurt too much to do so. He could only watch as the ground fell away from him as he was lifted into the air. The world swirled around him, and his vision began to fade.

He was blacking out.

But he wasn’t dying.

He was going to have to live with the fact that this had happened, and no one in Warfang would see him the way he wanted to be seen: innocent, calm, friendly, and shy. He knew how fast word spread in Warfang, and he knew that by tonight, everyone would be well aware of this incident.

What a great first impression…

Chapter Text

Pain flared through his body.

Forzen winced, letting out a groan as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, the intense sunlight blinding him. He squeezed his eyes shut, however the light still shone through his eyelids, making his vision red. Knowing he couldn’t fall back into the darkness of sleep that he was in earlier, he groaned again as he opened his eyes once more, blinking furiously as his eyesight adjusted slowly.

Once he could finally see properly, he looked around the room he was in. He didn’t recognise it.

Forzen leapt up onto all fours with a frightened gasp, suddenly wincing as pain flared through his body. The stinging in his chest and stomach almost made him collapse to the ground again. As he had launched himself up to his paws, he had spread out his wings, almost defensively, and now that he had recovered from the shock of the unfamiliar room, he suddenly felt an odd weight on his left wing.

Turning to look at his wing, he suddenly noticed his wing was bandaged up. He looked down all over himself and saw his torso was wrapped in bandages as well. His face wasn’t, but he could suddenly feel the pain from the long scabs that ran down his face. He reached a paw up to feel the ugly scabs, wincing in pain as his scales ran across the somewhat raw flesh.

It took a while for everything to come back to him, and once he had, he almost wished it hadn’t.

The agony from before washed over him once more as he remembered the wounds he had been dealt, the blood that had poured out of him and splattered all over the ground. The fear of being beaten up again, with all of the dragons so intent on killing him. They almost played with him with the way they tortured him; it was almost like they were trying to get their revenge, knowing the way Spyro toyed with his own victims.

It was terrifying to think of the fact that these were normal, everyday Warfangian citizens. Not soldiers or skilled fighters, but regular people, just wanting to beat up and cut open a young purple dragon. A child.

With no one there with him, he was unprotected. They had the perfect opportunity to finally attack.

His mind went back to the reason why Forzen had run off in the first place, and it made his blood boil.

Muras.

The name echoed through his mind, and he had to suppress his growl. This was all Muras’ fault. The older purple dragon wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t pay attention to how he felt. He was so focused on himself and what he wanted to do, that he just stood and left to go talk with some other random dragon, leaving Forzen open for Fjor’gand and his band of bullies to come up and insult him, threaten him, and beat him.

Forzen still had no idea what ‘moras’tov’ meant.

Then he had run out of the restaurant in anger and fear. Sure, that part was his own fault, but it was only because of Muras’ actions that he had run off. Muras had left him vulnerable. Forzen had thought the point of being a mentor was to provide helpful life tips to the mentee, and to be someone who was safe to be around.

Right now, Forzen hadn’t felt safe around Muras at all. He didn’t feel safe around anyone .

So really, running off blindly into the streets of Warfang wasn’t really that much of a change for him. Everywhere was dangerous. Everyone and everything wanted him dead.

That brought him to the last thing he remembered before falling unconscious, succumbing to his wounds. Someone had saved him, picked him up, taken him away. He looked around the room again. This definitely wasn’t Muras’ house. The room… the building… was foreign to him.

Why would someone pick him up and take him to their house? It didn’t make sense. He saw the way everyone looked at him. They all wanted him dead. As they watched in shock as the violent events unfolded in front of them, Forzen could tell that every single civilian was silently cheering for Forzen’s assailants, hoping that they would kill the tiny purple devil that had infiltrated Warfang.

So why was Forzen in someone’s house? And more importantly, why had they treated him? He had been bandaged, and many of his wounds had been aided by red gems. Who in their right mind would take him in and heal him?

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a familiar wind dragon entered. Forzen scoffed. Yeah of course, my uncle, he thought. It’s all his fault too. It’s his fault Muras stood up and left me.

Forzen turned his head away from Aerus, who just sighed sadly at Forzen’s angry actions. “Forzen, I just wanted to check on you to see if you were alright,” the wind dragon said softly.

“Why should I talk to you? You’re to blame too,” Forzen deadpanned.

Aerus blinked, not expecting that response. “Uh… for what?” Aerus questioned, trying not to sound too defensive.

“Muras got up and left me because you did. He saw an opportunity to leave me for someone he really cared about, so he took it!”

“Forzen, I—”

“Oh enough already! Why do you care?!” Forzen spat. “Everyone in Warfang wants me dead! Everyone in this ancestor-damned city wants to see my blood paint the streets red! Why do you care what happens to me?! You should have just let me die!”

Aerus’ breath hitched as he tried to hold back tears, hearing the horrible, morbid words that the young purple dragon screamed at him. “Forzen, I care because I have a heart. I care because I can see you past the stigma of ‘evil purple dragon’ that everyone is placing on you. I care because… you’re my nephew,” Aerus murmured.

“Like that means a damn. All things considered, I’m not Cynder’s son. By that logic, I’m not your nephew,” Forzen clarified, using Cynder’s logic to his own benefit for once. “Besides, because of what happened, I don’t feel safe around you either, just like I don’t feel safe around Muras.”

“Forzen, I’m serious. Why else would I have saved you from that… that… torture?”

“I don’t know. Why did you?” Forzen grumbled with a shrug.

“I just told you. You’re my nephew. I can see you for who you are, not for what everyone else says you are. Forzen, we’re related, and I just want to get to know my own nephew better. I want to be… someone positive in the family, considering right now, you have no one positive in your family.”

“What family? I don’t have parents. Cynder disowned me, and I’ve disowned Spyro. There’s no way I’m calling that devil my father.”

An uncomfortable silence washed over them. Forzen just sat there glaring at Aerus, who looked back at him anxiously. Eventually, Forzen gave a long sigh, looking away finally, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, being careful not to agitate the massive scabs running over them.

“How long was I out for?” Forzen then asked.

“You were out for two whole days. It’s Laoday.”

Forzen moaned. “That means school starts in two days. I’m going to be killed there.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad, Forzen. They wouldn’t let the kids be violent at school, I can promise you that, Forzen.”

“Can you? Can you really? LOOK AT ME!” Forzen screamed suddenly, causing Aerus to flinch. “I’m a purple dragon! Do you think anyone will care about that?! Do you think they’ll say ‘no violent acts on a purple dragon’? Absolutely NOT! You wanna know why? I’m a freak of nature, corrupted and destined for evil, ‘tainted by the Dark Overlord’s blood’, because ‘all purple dragons are deceitful, demonic creatures and deserve to be MURDERED ON THE SPOT’! BECAUSE I’M A ‘MORAS’TOV’, WHATEVER THE HELL THAT EVEN MEANS!”

Forzen didn’t even notice Aerus gasped at the usage of the foreign word. He continued his spiel, his voice getting hoarse as his screams got louder and more emotional, more filled with hatred. Whether that was towards him, other dragons, or Forzen himself, Aerus wasn’t sure.

“Nobody gives a damn about me, Aerus! NOBODY. GIVES. A DAMN. I don’t care what sort of things I might learn at school, or what sort of good things you say will be there, because it will be different for me!” Forzen roared. “It’ll be different, because all purple dragons are tainted in the eyes of the public now! They’re all the same! And that includes me! How Muras can walk around without being bashed, I will never know, and I will forever be jealous of him over that!”

Aerus just stood there, staring at Forzen with horror. He stammered a bit, trying to get his words out. “You’ve been called… all those things?” he exclaimed.

“That and worse.”

“‘Tainted by the Dark Overlord’s blood’?”

“From D’varin, a youngling barely a few years older than me who used to beat me whenever he got the chance.”

“‘Deceitful, demonic creatures’?”

“From the mouth of one of the dragons that beat me up after I left the restaurant. It was… one of the many titles I had hurled at me.”

“‘Moras’tov’?!”

“From one of the teenagers at school. Yes.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“No. Do enlighten me.”

“It’s… an incredibly derogatory term towards purple dragons—basically a slur—that originated from ancient times. The ‘moras’ bit comes from the word ‘murasa’, meaning ‘purple’, which Muras is actually named after, and the ‘tov’ bit I’m not so sure. The meaning has been lost over the thousands of years it’s been since the word was coined. The only reason I know of it is due to the ancient history classes I took in school. I’m not sure where this kid that called you that learned it from; maybe he does ancient history, I have no clue.”

Forzen just scoffed. “My suspicions of it being a derogatory term was correct, I guess. What a surprise,” he said blankly.

Aerus just sighed, knowing that anything he could ever try would be useless in trying to help Forzen. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone for a while,” the wind dragon murmured as he turned to leave the room, a sad look on his face. “There’s some things in the room you can help yourself to if you want something to do. Books, parchment, ink and quill, whatever you want.”

Forzen didn’t reply, instead curling himself up so he was looking at the wall opposite from Aerus. He was only aware of Aerus having left after the sound of a few footsteps and the click of the door as it closed. A sad huff escaped Forzen’s lungs as he was left to his thoughts.

He felt so horribly alone. He wanted so badly to make some friends but there was no one he could trust. Everyone was either deathly scared of him, wanted him dead, or couldn’t care enough to make him feel safe around them. He didn’t care if what Muras did was an accident; it still shattered his trust. Aerus seemed nice, but Forzen didn’t trust him either.

At the very least, Muras and Aerus were the only ones to be remotely kind to him, which was a nice change however. The guardians, at least Torialis and Ash, had been… tolerant… of him. He didn’t know where they really stood regarding him being in Warfang.

But tolerant wasn’t caring for him. Leaving him alone in a place where he was so obviously uncomfortable and leaving him open to be bullied and attacked was not caring for him.

No one had cared for him since Jaarsol, and before then, Gur’ath. They were the only ones who ever properly cared for him. But Jaarsol was dead. Gur’ath had been corrupted and was a part of the Dark Assassin Corps. Despite the dire few years in the cave with Gur’ath and the other kids, they had gotten close and looked out for each other, until Gur’ath was taken, leaving Forzen alone, until he was moved out and given to Jaarsol in a private cave as his caretaker.

He wasn’t allowed to go outside, but being cramped up in the room was the best time of his life. He got to spend time with Jaarsol, and he got to be alone with her. He could finally feel safe with someone. She was very much a mother-figure in his life.

But now she was gone because of him.

This was a big reason why he was scared to make friends as well; everyone who loved him and who lived back always got corrupted or killed. In reality it was only two people, but they were the only two people he had.

It was lonely, thinking back on those he loved dearly, knowing they would never come back, knowing it would be near impossible to make more friends. He was scared of everyone, and everyone was scared of him.

Even Muras was scared of him. It was painfully obvious in the restaurant.

Forzen just felt so alone.

So alone.

So… alone…

The word lingered on his mind, and he couldn’t get rid of the terrible word. The word ‘alone’ echoed constantly in his head, and he had to fight back the tears that he could feel coming. He closed his eyes. Please, give me a friend. Give me someone I can trust, who isn’t scared of me, who actually cares for me, he prayed silently, although he knew the chances of that happening were next to none.

Forzen stood up and walked towards a shelf in the corner of the room. Inside it was some parchment and a jar of ink with a quill sitting in it. With a huff, he grabbed them and sat them down in front of him.

As he stared down at the parchment, he tried to remember back to when Jaarsol was teaching him how to write in the common dialect. He dipped the quill into the ink, before hovering it over the parchment on the floor in front of him, causing a few droplets of ink to splat onto it as he moved his lips, trying to figure out the letters he would need to write to get the word onto the parchment.

Once he believed he had it, he lowered the quill and wrote the word ‘ALONE’ on the parchment, in big, messy capital letters. He dipped the quill in the ink again, and underneath the first word, he wrote ‘SORRY’.

He grabbed the page and set it aside, revealing a blank sheet of parchment from underneath it, before he then dipped the quill in the ink again and wrote, in slightly smaller letters than before, ‘FORGIVE ME’.

Forzen wrote it as a prayer to the ancestors. He felt like he had failed them.

It was also a prayer to Jaarsol, for failing her. He’d said when he decided he wanted to see Du’ryal, that he would bring Jaarsol and Kyoren with him too, to reunite their family. Kyoren was then killed the day after he had told Jaarsol this, and then Jaarsol was killed not too long after. Forzen was the one that escaped instead. Jaarsol should have been the one privileged enough to leave Dark Peak. She deserved freedom after everything she did for him. She deserved to see her son again.

The loneliness washed over him even stronger as his thoughts continued to spiral around Jaarsol. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, feeling the moisture in them build up. With a growl, he rubbed his eyes violently, trying to rub the tears away. He couldn’t be weak. He had to be strong for Jaarsol. He had to keep her living in his mind.

He thought back to her, trying to picture her in his mind once more. He thought of her deep, earthy green scales and her emerald green eyes. They were the most vibrant green he had ever seen.

Forzen needed to honour her. He realised that he hadn’t done any special act of remembrance for her since she died. He’d talked about her, but that was hardly anything special. If anything, all it did was contribute to his sob story, knowing how Jaarsol’s story ended.

Looking down at the quill in his paw, and the last piece of parchment he had grabbed in front of him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, saying Jaarsol’s name aloud a few times. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so loud to him, as Jaarsol’s name cut through the silence in the room.

Once he had the name and the sounds figured out, he tried piecing letters to the name. Then, he tried to write the name down: ‘YARSOL’. Forzen smiled when he looked at the name, but it quickly disappeared. He had a strong gut feeling that something was wrong. He hadn’t spelled it right.

Turning back towards the shelf, seeing a few more pieces of parchment on it, he ran across the room to grab them, before placing them down in front of him, as he tried to rewrite the name a few more times. ‘YARSSOL’. ‘YARSOLL’. ‘YARSOLE’. But he knew deep down within him that they were all wrong; he couldn’t explain it, but he just knew he was wrong. Discouragement washed over him. All he wanted to do was do a special act of remembrance by writing Jaarsol’s name, but he couldn’t even do that right.

He wanted to cry.

But there were no tears in his eyes.

He wanted to give up, until he felt a soft whisper. It was ethereal and otherworldly, but it was… familiar. It was loving.

“You’re doing great, little one.”

It was her.

“Jaarsol? Jaarsol, is that you?” Forzen breathed, his heart speeding up rapidly. She had told him that dragon spirits were still able to communicate with the living, but it was entirely different thing to experience it.

“Yes, Forzen. Yes, it’s me.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice again,” Forzen whispered, trying to keep his voice down. He choked as he also tried to keep his tears in. “I miss you. I tried to do this to honour you but I just can’t do it. I don’t know how to spell your name and I know this is wrong.”

“Forzen, I really appreciate the act. I don’t care whether you spelled my name right or wrong. It’s the act that counts.”

“I just wanted to get it right! I wanted to do something right by you, especially after I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me, Forzen. You’re here now and you’re safe; that’s what matters to me. Don’t give up. If you can’t persist with writing my name, how can you persist with life? You’re going to need to be strong. Your life was, unfortunately, never going to be easy.”

“I… I know.”

There was a moment of silence, and for a brief moment, Forzen was scared Jaarsol had left him again. Her soft whisper cut through his thoughts before they could spiral too far.

“Try writing my name again. I’ll guide you through it. First of all, start with a ‘J’.”

“A ‘J’? But it doesn’t make that sound!”

“Sometimes it can. The ancient language is a strange one, and us dragons kept some aspects of the ancient language for some of our names. My name is one of them. So, write a ‘J’.”

“‘J’,” Forzen said, reading the letters as he wrote.

“Now for two ‘A’s. The double ‘A’ creates the elongated ‘aah’ sound in my name.”

“‘A’… and… another ‘A’.”

“Now for an ‘R’ to round the sound off.”

“‘R’…”

“And you got it right the first time you did it with the ‘S-O-L’.”

“‘S’… ‘O’… and ‘L’. Is that it?”

“Yes. You spelled my name, Forzen!”

‘JAARSOL’, the messy writing read. Forzen was overjoyed when he saw that he had written Jaarsol’s name. “I did it! I did it Jaarsol! I wrote your name!”

“Great! Write it again.”

And so he did. On another piece of parchment, he wrote ‘JAARSOL’ once more. He beamed at the sight of his caretaker’s name written on parchment.

What Jaarsol said next surprised him.

“Now, I want you to write your own name. I won’t help you, and I won’t confirm that it’s right. I want you to figure it out for yourself. You’re going to need to make your own decisions now, especially with you going into school. You need to be persistent. So persist, Forzen, and write your name. After you think you’ve got it right, I want you to keep writing, focus on making your writing neater, and smaller. And if you absolutely need the help, I want you to talk to the dragons that have been placed around you for help. I know you haven’t started off on the best first impressions with them, but they really do care for you, especially Muras. It’ll be his job to finish what I could not,” Jaarsol explained. “I wish you good luck. Goodbye, Forzen.”

With that, Jaarsol was gone. Forzen could feel it.

The purple dragon closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, before looking down at the sheets of parchment in front of him. He moved the ones he had written on to the side, exposing another blank page, which was to be purposed for his own name. He placed the quill in the jar of ink as he began saying his name a few times, getting his lips used to the name so he could figure out what letters were associated with each sound.

After about five minutes, he grabbed the quill, before slowly writing his name. ‘FORZEN’. It looked right. He was happy with how it looked. He wrote his name a few more times before he was sure it was correct. He’d have to make sure with Aerus that it was correct later on, but that could wait until later. He grabbed some more parchment, and started writing his name smaller, moving the quill slower to get smoother, neater movements. He spent the rest of the morning and a bit of the afternoon writing, and he was pretty happy with his progress, before he decided he was finished and wanted to read.

He looked up at the shelves looking for a book to read. Forzen reached up and grabbed out a book called Ul’eissus and the Spirit of the Sea, which seemed fairly interesting. It was a fantasy book, which seemed very interesting. It had a completely different magic system to the ones the dragons used, as well as some really different types of creatures. It helped that not only was it actually written by a fox, but most of the story happened around or in the ocean, which allowed so much more creativity for the creatures and magics as not much was known about what lived under the ocean at all.

He started reading the book, and he liked it. About half-way through the afternoon, the door opened and two heads, one purple and one grey, peeked in. Forzen didn’t notice. The heads quickly disappeared and the door closed silently, leaving Forzen to his book. Muras and Aerus would get Forzen later. Right now, it was best to leave him alone to read and ponder on the past few days.

Chapter Text

“Cynder! Master Frélix wants you, now!” an earth dragon called, running into the magic training room.

The dragoness in question stifled a growl, turning around with a raised eyebrow to stare at him straight in the eye. “What now? I’m in the middle of supervising a lesson on fearbringers with some new recruits here,” she deadpanned. “Can it wait a little longer?”

“No, Master Frélix said it’s very urgent. I don’t know the details, but all I know is that he’s waiting with a dragon from one of the other dragon cities in the Temple,” the dragon replied, panting as he tried to recover his breath from getting here as quickly as he could.

Cynder groaned, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut as frustration washed over her. “Fine. At least it’s not vital that I supervise these sessions like I would for a venomfang,” she huffed, before turning around to the ice dragon standing beside her. “Jupal. Take over this for me.”

Jupal, a soldier high in the ranks assisting her in the supervision, turned to her and nodded. “Sure thing, General. I’ll also let Vetar know you’re gone,” he said.

“Good,” Cynder murmured, before she turned to leave.

Spreading out her wings once she was outside, she flew as quick as she could to the Warfang Temple, using her wind element to propel herself forward in the air. Uncertainty gripped her. What advancements had been made now that the guardians were summoning her on urgent matters?

Considering her summons, there was a high chance it wasn’t something good.

She arrived at the Temple in no time, and immediately made her way to the meeting room, where Frélix stood waiting for her. However, the sight of the dragon standing beside him made Cynder falter, gasping with shock.

The dragon was clad in light steel armour, wearing a golden pendant around his neck with a ruby embedded into it. Underneath his armour, Cynder took notice of the colour of his scales. They were grey, indicating his element to be wind. She didn’t know how many wind dragons there were still alive, but there couldn’t have been many; she’d done many travels to many different cities over the years and even now, she had never seen another wind dragon apart from Aerus.

So where could this wind dragon have come from?

Before Cynder could voice her question, Frélix started speaking. “Cynder, there you are! This is Cybalt K’urren, a messenger of Queen Lehftin, the Queen of Typhaar,” Frélix said, the mention of her family’s home city catching her attention, her eyes widening at its name. “He has unfortunately come with some very grim news and a request for help.”

“Okay, sure. What’s the problem?” Cynder questioned.

“Well, since the war with Spyro began, we at Typhaar have been aware of everything happening, but we never ended up directly involved. However, about four months ago, one of the neighbouring towns nearby Typhaar was attacked by a bunch of dark dragons and we went out to help them, just out of kindness,” Cybalt explained. “Queen Lehftin is sure that that has now put a target on us, since after that, we’ve been having some rather infrequent murders happen. Whole families and households slain, and in the rare case of a survivor, we have always been told that the murder was a regular looking dragon, but… not quite right… not quite normal… as if something was controlling them. One of them said that she could see dark runes on the body of her parents’ murder.”

“Could that be the Assassin Corps?” Cynder murmured. “That sounds very much like what I was like under Malefor’s control.”

“It could be,” Frélix replied. “We lost track of what they were doing and where they were operating almost a year ago. They could be up at Typhaar now.”

“They’ve always been hard to track down and find,” Cynder huffed with a shake of her head, knowing that they had never been able to catch a member of Spyro’s Assassin Corps since they first discovered them four years after Armageddon. “Hopefully we can finally catch one and try and restore them.”

“Restore them?” Cybalt questioned. “What do you mean like that?”

“I’m sure everyone in Typhaar knows of my story, right?” Cynder asked in reply, to which the wind dragon nodded. “Well, these guys are like me. Taken away either as eggs or kids and corrupted to do Spyro’s dirty work. They often tend to go after people in positions of power to throw cities and towns into disarray, but I’ve noticed that sometimes they tend to just go on stealth-killing sprees.”

“Oh…”

“How many have been murdered over the last four months since they started? And how many have been regular citizens?”

“Most of them have been normal citizens. We’ve lost some guards, councillors, politicians, but we also lost all of their immediate families with them, as well as some random households throughout Typhaar,” Cybalt explained. “These murders have been happening maybe once every week or two, but there’s no real pattern as to when in the week they happen, or where they will attack, so we’ve never been able to anticipate them or track them. They’ve been getting more frequent over the last month tho, to the point where last week, we had four nights of murder. We think they’re stepping up their game and preparing to pick off the Queen soon. Her… her two daughters were killed two nights ago.

“We… we were hoping that you would be able to come over to Typhaar and help us deal with this situation. We can’t lose our queen; Typhaar’s already in enough chaos and disarray as it is. Everyone is scared. We heard you’ve been one of the main figures in this war and know not only Spyro but the tactics of darkness well, so we thought you would be a big help to us.”

Cynder turned to Frélix, an eyebrow raised, silently questioning him if he thought it was a good idea. The ice guardian hesitated for a bit, before giving a small nod. “Okay. We can have a look. No promises that we’ll find anything or if we can even do anything, and if we remain fruitless for too long, we’ll have to head back here,” Cynder said. “After all, protecting Warfang is a top priority of ours, particularly since it holds the biggest percentage of the dragon population, and the fact that it’s closest to Dark Peak and the most open to attacks.”

“I understand,” Cybalt replied, his voice shaking as the possibility of not finding anything and having to send Cynder back home entered his head.

“Great. I’ll take maybe one or two other soldiers with me for backup in case we need it, but I won’t take too many so we’re not cutting our own defenses too much,” Cynder added. “Master Frélix, if you could let the other guardians know, that would be great.”

The ice guardian nodded, before he turned and left the room. Cybalt wore an expression of relief on his face, smiling widely at Cynder. “Great, thank you so much! We really appreciate it!” Cybalt exclaimed. “We’ll leave just before sunset. It’s about a day’s flight, so we should be there by tomorrow afternoon if we leave then.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you here at sunset then. Bye, Cybalt,” the dragoness replied, before she turned and left to begin organising who was going to go with her.

After arriving back at the barracks and briefing everyone, she had the two soldiers picked to go with her. The first dragon was Ta’torol, an earth dragon originally from Urgussen, who was very large and bulky—taller than Cynder too, which was a feat not many dragons could boast—and had many scars running down his left arm and chest. He also bore half a tail, as it had been chopped off by Cynder during her years as the Terror of the Skies. Now, he wore a metal tailblade, which was just as deadly as hers.

The second dragon she had picked to take with her was named Forlorär, a burly lightning dragon who was known for his strength, which rivalled that of Terrador back in the day. He too had fought Cynder, and was there when Cynder had kidnapped Terrador. He was left with a huge scar under his left eye from that day, but nowadays he bore if with pride, and since Cynder’s redemption and new job as the general of the Warfang army, he had grown a lot of respect for her, particularly given the events of the first five months of the war, from Spyro’s betrayal to Armageddon.

It wasn’t long before Cynder also stumbled across her brother on the way to her house from the barracks to quickly grab some rest before the big flight and potentially more fighting. Aerus was startled to see her at first, not expecting her out of the barracks so soon in the day, and he could tell by looking at her face that something was up.

“Hey, Cynder. Is everything okay?” the wind dragon asked.

“Um… well, a dragon came to see Master Frélix earlier this morning, saying that there’s been some mysterious murders, likely from Spyro’s Dark Assassin Corps, happening in his city over the last few months. He said they’re getting more frequent over the last few weeks, and that he’s worried that their queen will be an eventual target,” Cynder explained.

Aerus winced at the information. “And… which city is this?”

“Typhaar.”

“Wait, Typhaar?!” Aerus spluttered. “As in my home Typhaar?! It’s in trouble?!”

“Aerus, please don’t panic. I, as well as two other soldiers, are going with one of the queen’s messengers to investigate.”

“Don’t panic? Cynder, that’s my home! You may have never lived there or had any ties there but that’s home to me, Cynder!”

“Aerus…”

“Let me come with you!”

“Listen to me, it will be safer for you here.”

“NO, CYNDER!” Aerus screamed, causing her to flinch at the sudden roar, something that Aerus didn’t normally do.

Aerus took a few heavy breaths, an almost horrified expression on his face; Cynder didn’t know whether that was from his uncharacteristic scream, the fact he screamed at his sister, the fact that he talked back to her regarding what was basically a military mission, or all three at once. At the same time, she could see the tears brimming his eyes as emotion crushed him. He turned his gaze, struggling to look Cynder in the eye.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, before he spoke again in a hushed, breaking voice. “It’s my home. And it’s in danger. I know that… Warfang is my home now, but Typhaar will always be home. It’s my birthplace. I was raised there, and I was loved there,” Aerus whispered. “All my childhood memories are there. I know you don’t know what that’s like, given your own childhood, but when you hear that your hometown, the place that you grew up in, is in danger and experiencing terrible things like several murders in a week, likely caused by Spyro’s cronies? It… it hurts. It hurts… a lot… I have to come. I have to.”

Cynder narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know what the right answer was. She watched as her brother frowned upon her expression change.

“Please, Cynder. I know it’s a military mission. I know I’m not a soldier. But it would mean the world to me if I could go along. I don’t know if I could live with myself knowing I sat around doing nothing, hours away from Typhaar, knowing it was in trouble, and knowing that Queen Lehftin could be an assassination target. I promise I’ll follow your orders, and I’ll do what you ask. I know what your role in this mission will be and I’m not going to step in the way of that. I trust you’ll do what’s right over there.”

She held her breath, still thinking it over in her head, before she finally let out a sigh. “Fine. You can come,” she said eventually, immediately continuing before Aerus could get too excited. “But… our relationship on this trip will not be one of brother and sister, you understand me?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand,” Aerus replied with a nod.

“Good. We need to focus on the task at hand, and we can’t let our relationship get in the way of that. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be looking out for you, but it will be out of a duty to keep you alive under my command, rather than from a sibling perspective.”

“I understand. Thank you so much, Cynder!” Aerus said with a smile. “You don’t know how much this means to me. To finally be able to go home… despite the dire situation… to potentially see old friends… I can’t thank you enough, Cynder. I just… hope it hasn’t changed too much over the past twelve years.”

Aerus’ smile was a sad one. Cynder faltered, completely unsure what to say or do. She didn’t do well with emotions, her own or other people’s. Before the War of Eternal Darkness, she was very emotional, and was easily upset, however afterwards, she became hard and filled with anger and hatred. She rarely even felt positive emotions. She had closed herself off to them many years ago.

However, even in her emotional state, she had never learned how to comfort others. She had never been good at it. In her current state, where she saw emotions as weakness and a distraction to the job at hand, she was even less equipped to comfort someone. She felt extremely uncomfortable watching her brother start to be sad. Maybe that was why she had let him come along? Normally she wouldn’t have done so, and normally she wouldn’t have cared how the other person reacted, but because he was her brother, it was… different for her. She knew she still had love inside her for him, even Aerus knew it. She just wasn’t brave enough to admit it.

Still, she tried, at least wanting to give Aerus a good last moment as siblings before she became his general for a few days. “You okay?” she asked, not sure what else to say.

“I… I don’t know. Call me emotional, I don’t care. I just… miss Typhaar. I’m scared for it and I’m scared for all the people in it. I don’t know what else has happened in the last twelve years since I… since we… left Typhaar,” Aerus murmured, before wincing as he thought of his deceased parents. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be like this on the trip.”

Cynder just watched as he winced and wiped his eyes. She suppressed her own wince as the images of her parents being cut up and slaughtered replayed in her head. They weren’t nice images. She still remembered vividly the way their blood poured onto the ground, the way that axe tore into her father’s throat, and the way her mother cried blood from her eyes being torn out. She remembered watching as her mother’s stomach was torn open, before her head was ripped off her neck. Even though she hadn’t thought back on those moments for years, the images were still all too vivid.

There was no surprise that they were as vivid as they were. They were her parents after all, slaughtered in front of her barely minutes after she met them for the first time. It took her years to realise truly how messed up she was from that. After going twenty-three years without ever seeing her parents, they were suddenly killed just after she saw them. They never even spoke or had a conversation. Her parents never even saw her.

She had no more tears to cry for them. She’d cried them out years ago.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried. Cynder had cried so much over the start of the war that now, she didn’t think she had any more left in her to give. Crying felt foreign to her now.

Cynder looked back at Aerus, who was forcing back the tears that were very close to coming out of his own eyes. He wiped his eyes again, clearing his throat as he tried to calm himself down. She felt so awkward watching him so emotional like this. She didn’t know what to do or say. However, one thing she was very sure of was that he wanted to move on from the topic. So did she.

“Alright. I’ll see you this evening then. We’ll meet up at the Warfang Temple at sunset,” she said. “Do what you need to do to be prepared beforehand so we can leave as soon as everyone’s there.”

“Okay. Thanks, Cynder,” Aerus replied, watching as Cynder then began to walk off. “See you then.”

It didn’t take long for sunset to arrive. It felt like it had come very quickly; Cynder was almost caught off guard by it. When she saw the time, she immediately made her way to the Temple to meet up with the other four dragons that would be accompanying her on the trip to Typhaar. Upon her arrival, she noticed that Cybalt and Forlorär were already there, engaged in conversation, and they both turned to greet Cynder when she arrived. Ash and Lagenon were also present, intending to see them off and wish them luck.

“Hey, Cynder. Thank you so much for agreeing to this,” Cybalt repeated. “It means a lot to me, Queen Lehftin, and Typhaar.”

“No problem,” Cynder said, deciding not to mention Cybalt repeating his thanks. “Oh, I should probably let you guys know as well, my brother Aerus is coming along too. Typhaar is his hometown and when he heard about what was happening, he was immediately worried and insisted on coming. Not sure how, but he managed to convince me to let him come.”

“All fine with me; the more help, the better,” Cybalt said with a smile, before pausing as something clicked in his brain. “Hang on a second, did you say Aerus?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We were best friends back in our youth. We met when he was thirteen; I might have been… maybe fifteen or sixteen then. I was probably one of the only friends he had during that particular timeframe,” the wind dragon explained, to which Cynder’s eyes widened with surprise on the revelation that this was one of her brother’s friends—it sure was a small world. “When I heard he’d gone missing, I was really worried. I knew him and his parents had gone to Warfang but I would have at least thought he’d write. For many years I thought him dead. Ancestors, it’s so good to hear he’s still alive.”

Cynder took a deep breath. She had to prepare herself for many more connections to Aerus to pop up when they got to Typhaar. It hadn’t properly clicked that there would be people in Typhaar that her brother would know until now.

“So, how’s he been going then?” Cybalt then asked, his voice pulling Cynder from her thoughts.

“Um… yeah, he’s been going great. He actually got a job as a librarian; he really likes his books. He only works part-time though, but he’s got enough money to sustain him, and he’s happy. He uh… He still struggles a bit with things though. He had a tough time during Armageddon, but then again all of us at Warfang did,” Cynder explained.

Forlorär murmured in confirmation, and Ash just scoffed. “It wasn’t just in Warfang. It affected the whole world; even the White Isle,” he said.

“White Isle? It affected there too?” Cybalt asked, receiving a nod from Ash. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“Because all four of us guardians were there at the time,” Ash explained. “We were doing our guardian training with the Chronicler, until Armageddon came up and we had to abandon the temple for the time being. The temple was extremely close to being lost.”

Cybalt just blinked. He opened his mouth to ask another question, until the sound of wingbeats distracted all of them, causing them to turn towards the sound. It was Ta’torol. Aerus showed up about a minute after the earth dragon arrived, and Cybalt was quick to greet him. “Aerus! Ancestors, it’s been so long since I last saw you!” he cried happily.

Aerus narrowed his eyes, as if trying to remember if he knew this dragon. He suddenly gasped with realisation. “Wait… Cybalt?! Is that you?” Aerus exclaimed.

“Sure is! It’s been twelve damn years, but we’ve finally found each other again,” Cybalt said with a smile. “I thought you were dead, but… oh ancestors, it’s just so good to see you again.”

“Okay, you can talk when we stop to rest, but the sun’s almost gone over the horizon and we need to get going if we want to be at Typhaar before nightfall tomorrow evening,” Cynder interrupted. “Now come on and let’s go.”

Cynder turned, flying off into the sky, before Ta’torol and Forlorär followed, leaving Aerus and Cybalt alone on the ground. “Don’t get offended if my sister comes across too harsh. That’s just… her. She’s been through a lot of stuff over the last twelve years, and it’s affected her quite a lot,” Aerus said to Cybalt. “Anyway, we should probably go; we don’t want to fall behind.”

“You’re right, I should probably be up front anyway,” Cybalt said, before spreading his wings wide and taking to the skies, rushing forward with his wind element to catch up with the rest of the group. Aerus was quick to follow suit.

The group flew for about an hour and a half before they stopped to rest for a few minutes. Aerus wanted to stop and rest for the night, but according to Cybalt, they were barely a fraction of the way there.

Aerus had forgotten just how far away Typhaar was, only now remembering that he and his parents had been travelling for three days before they’d stumbled across Spyro’s forced and were taken to Dark Peak. To be fair, they also took their sweet time travelling, especially since Kreshaar had never really liked long bursts of flying, and wanted to take time to enjoy the surroundings. They had even stopped at another town for a little bit.

Cynder had also said that it was quite dangerous to be on the ground at this time of night without any protection or city walls surrounding them, because at this point, they were still pretty close to Dark Peak. Her passing mention of bloodlusters also put Aerus on edge.

After the small break, Cynder had them flying for another two hours before they finally came to a rest. Adrano were both high in the sky, occupying opposite sides of it as they illuminated the rainforest below them. In this rainforest was a small but deep cave, that was just large enough for the five dragons to sleep comfortably in.

In the dark of the night, Cynder blended in so well that Aerus and Cybalt would jump when she moved, particularly the Typhaarian messenger. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the point where they could see the faint sheen of Adrano’s moonlight on Cynder’s dark scales, as well as her silhouette.

Even though he could see her silhouette for the most part, Cybalt was still quite jumpy, not having adjusted to the silent, dark dragoness sneaking around them. Noticing Cybalt’s jumpiness, Aerus felt an old childlike urge rise within him to play a prank on Cybalt and attempt to scare him. He immediately pushed the urge away, knowing Cynder would be on him like a flash if he did that, knowing that they needed to stay quiet so they could get to Typhaar without being spotted by anyone… or anything.

So, Aerus decided to make some softly-spoken conversation with Cybalt instead, walking up to him carefully and announcing his presence. “So, Cybalt. What do you do now, after these twelve years?” he questioned.

“I’m not sure if Cynder’s mentioned this to you or not, but I’m one of the queen’s messengers. The Queen heard of Cynder’s active involvement in fighting Spyro’s forces and decided to get her to help, because the Queen suspects it’s Spyro’s forces causing the murders,” Cybalt explained.

“Oh, Cynder mentioned a messenger, but it never clicked that it was you, even with the flight here! How long have you had that job for?”

“About… five years maybe? Probably closer to six.”

“Wow. That’s really something, Cybalt. I knew you wanted to do something like that but to actually have the job is a true achievement.”

Cybalt just chuckled in response. “And Cynder told me you work part-time as a librarian. Tell me about that.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. I like books, always have, so I guess it suits me. It’s interesting seeing what types of books people read, and because I get to handle them and put them back on shelves, I actually stop to briefly read the blurbs of the stories to see what they’re about. Some of them I’ve put on my reading list. It’s pretty relaxed most of the time,” Aerus explained.

“That’s good. You know, it’s really good to see you again, Aerus. It’s been twelve years. There’s so much to catch up on.”

“I know. Maybe I could come back to Typhaar sometime to visit for a bit longer once the war’s over. I have a friend who needs help with some very important things that all need to be done quickly because of the war. It’ll be a lot more relaxed when it’s over and I’ll be able to visit.”

“That is, if it ever finishes. Typhaar hasn’t been too involved in it, but it has affected us quite a fair bit, and it’s been going on for twelve years. I really hope the War of Eternal Darkness doesn’t last for any longer than it has; I’m sick of all this war, especially after the Dark War as well. Eight years was barely enough of a break to recover from that war.”

“Cybalt. Don’t worry about it. We’ve survived the war this long. I’m sure we can survive until the end. With the ancestors’ help, we can pull through it and this war will end.”

Cybalt just nodded. He opened his mouth to continue speaking until Forlorär walked into the cave holding a few wolves in his maw. “I managed to catch us some food. We’d better eat to get some energy,” he said after he dropped the wolves on the ground.

Aerus and Cybalt gave a small wince at the sight of the limp, dead canines. Just a few kilometres out of Typhaar, there was actually a small civilisation of foxes that were quite friendly with the Typhaarian dragons. Those foxes were sentient beings that walked on two legs, very similarly to many of the feline tribes and the moles, unlike the wild, feral wolves that lay dead in front of them. Even though they were merely beasts, wild animals, it still felt wrong for Aerus to eat canine meat. He got odd looks every time he turned down canine meat, but he was luckily never questioned about it.

He just heard Cynder give a low growl as she walked towards the pile of bloody wolf carcasses. “If the stories Aerus has told me about the fox colony near Typhaar are true, then you’re probably not going to want to eat these, are you, Cybalt?” Cynder asked flatly.

Cybalt just shook his head.

Cynder merely huffed in response, before she bent down and picked up a carcass in her mouth, before throwing it at the two wind dragons. They both yelped as the wolf landed on the ground in front of them with a heavy thud, its head twisted at an unnatural angle from its snapped neck.

“Seriously, you two. We can’t afford to be picky,” Cynder snapped. “Out in the field here, this is all we have, and we need energy to get to Typhaar, as well as deal with whatever is going on over there. If you refuse to eat it, I do not want to hear you complaining that you don’t have the energy, and I definitely don’t want to see you straggling too far behind. So I suggest you suck it up and eat the damned wolf.”

With that, Cynder bent her head back down and picked up another wolf from the pile, before stalking over to the far corner of the cave, submerged in darkness. The sound of snapping bones and the squelching of flesh and blood ensued not soon after as she began devouring the wolf carcass. The same sounds rose through the air much closer to them as Ta’torol and Forlorär also began to eat the wolf.

Aerus just turned to Cybalt and gulped nervously, before turning his gaze down to the wolf splayed out in front of them. Not wanting to think about the animal that he would now be forced to eat, Aerus closed his eyes and raised his tailblade, before cutting through the wolf’s flank. He picked up the flank and turned away from the wolf so that all he could directly see was a hunk of flank meat with a small patch of bloodied fur on one side of it. It was pretty unrecognisable as a wolf’s hide when the flank wasn’t a part of the body. He bit into it, trying not to focus on the taste of the meat and blood, but rather just focusing on getting food into his stomach.

There was the sound of a loud thump behind him, before there was the sound of more slicing flesh. He didn’t have to look back to know that Cybalt had come to the same decision as him, rolling the wolf over and taking the other side of its flank, before turning away from the carcass to disassociate the meat from the animal.

It wasn’t long before they all finally finished their food, before they all laid down to sleep for the night. Or… tried to, at least. Aerus couldn’t get to sleep. He was worried. He knew he was going to be on this trip to Typhaar, so he had sent Forzen, who was still staying with him, back to live in Muras’ house. It took a decent amount of convincing to get Forzen to go, but he finally did so.

The young purple dragon was far from happy about it, and seemed to be more than just angry when Aerus dropped him back off at Muras’ house. He also seemed to be… quite scared as well. He was worried for Forzen, especially since tomorrow was Glaenday, when he would start his first day of school.

He was also worried for Typhaar, his home. It was in danger. He didn’t like the sound of all the murders going on. He had come along to try and help stop it. But what could he do? The realisation of it all only just now seemed to hit him. He was weak. He wasn’t strong like Cynder. He wasn’t anything like Cynder. He knew he might have to fight, but he didn’t want to. He was almost scared too. Not only was he not the greatest at it, especially amongst his sister and two soldiers from the army, but the thought of violence terrified him.

After his experience being possessed during Armageddon and watching everything he did in the back of his mind, stuck inside his own body… it was horrifying. He hated watching the violent acts he was committing. The last thing he wanted to do was engage with even more violence.

But he knew he had to in order to protect his home, he had to fight. In order to protect his family, which he supposed now included the little purple dragon that was his nephew, he had to fight. In a time of war, fighting was the only way to protect.

He didn’t know how long he was pondering over his thoughts, before he was interrupted as a strangled gasp came from one of the dragons in the cave. A small, suppressed groan of frustration then followed, and it was feminine. It had to be Cynder.

Aerus looked over towards Cynder’s direction, squinting hard to try and spot her silhouette in the darkness of the cave. There was a few seconds of silence, before the sound of scales scraping against rock sounded as she stood to her paws. He could hear her claws tapping across the rock as she made her way over to the entrance of the cave. With a sigh, Aerus stood up and followed her.

“Cynder?” he began, but with a sudden, low growl, Cynder whirled around with bared teeth and a vicious snarl, her tailblade aimed at his throat.

Aerus leapt back with fear, and Cynder faltered. She let out a low growl, glaring daggers at him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you fool!” she scowled, withdrawing her deadly weapon.

“I just wanted to ask if you were okay. I heard you wake up,” Aerus muttered.

“I’m fine. Just a little nightmare,” she dismissed, looking away from Aerus and out into the dimly lit rainforest.

“You don’t have to dismiss it like it’s nothing, Cynder. You can talk about it if you need to.”

“Well, I don’t need to, so don’t bother,” Cynder spat, making Aerus recoil at the venom in her voice. “Do keep in mind what I said earlier back in Warfang. I don’t want any of this sappy stuff between us. On this trip, we’re comrades, and I am your general. No sibling relationship, remember?”

“No one else is awake, and it’s the middle of the night. Surely it’s fine just for tonight. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I am okay. And I’m not asking for your help.”

“You don’t seem okay. I was always told that talking about what’s wrong always helps.”

“And who told you that? Mother?”

“Um… yeah?”

“Okay let me make this clear, don’t you ever try to force Mother’s parenting on me, got it?” Cynder spat, and Aerus reeled backwards in fear. “I don’t care if that’s how you were raised, but I was not raised that way, and those types of teachings will never help in a world like our own. Not only that, but I never even knew her. Don’t try and pull the ‘but Mum always said’ card on me because I never heard any of that in the first place. I never knew or saw our parents before we saw them in that damned torture chamber. They were strangers to me. I know you’re my brother and I do care for you, but don’t you dare force the words and teachings of a stranger onto me, even if said strangers were my parents.”

“Cynder, I’m sorry. I—”

“Shut it. Go back to sleep.”

“I swear, I didn’t mean to—”

“GO.”

Aerus flinched. He was used to hearing his sister angry and fuming with rage. It was a very normal thing at this point. But he had never heard her this angry before. She wasn’t even yelling; it was almost scarier than when she was. Her voice was so thick with venom and rage that just the sound of her voice felt like it was tearing into him.

The wind dragon turned around and slowly made his way back to his sleeping spot in the cave. He turned back to get one last glance at Cynder, who stood there unmoving, staring at his, her eyes burning with fury. The way she was ominously silhouetted against the moonlight didn’t make things any better.

He laid down on the ground, curling himself into a ball. He wanted nothing more than to just lie down and cry, but he knew Cynder would have his head if he burst into tears right now. As he laid there with his back turned to her, he could hear frustrated growling and the sounds of foliage being torn up as Cynder clawed down the trees and bushes in the rainforest. He was successful on keeping his sobs in, but he was rather unsuccessful with keeping tears in. They dripped slowly down his face as he listened to Cynder take out her rage on the plants outside.

Her growls and grunts were shaking; Aerus knew that sound anywhere. She was on the verge of tears too. It had been years since anything had done that to her. His heart ached as he realised just how much he had broken her trying to bring their mother’s soft words into the conversation. They had always helped him, and he thought those words would help her too, but he was wrong.

Aerus understood Cynder’s point of view. He had never thought of it that way before, but now that Cynder had put it into words, the harsh reality of it all hit him with a force he couldn’t explain. She would never get to know her parents. She met them for the first time in that torture room, and watched them get torn apart and slaughtered. She never even got to speak with them. That was the only exposure to her parents that she had ever had. Aerus didn’t know what that would be like… what that would do to someone. Cynder had always been good at bottling up her emotions and not letting them show. He had no idea just how much that concept had messed with her. Even what Cynder had let out during their conversation, and what she was letting out now, was surely not all of it.

There was more hidden deep down inside her hurting soul, Aerus knew it.

Finally, the sounds of Cynder’s quiet wrath came to an end, and a few moments later, she stormed back into the cave, returning to her spot in the darkest corner of it. Very faintly, Aerus could hear her sniffling. He looked up above his paws to just faintly see Cynder wiping her eyes.

Ancestors, I made her cry, Aerus thought.

He’d always wanted her to be able to cry and let out her emotions, but not like this.

He felt awful.

It was hard for him to sleep that night, the guilt weighing him down and keeping him awake for the majority of the night.

“Alright, everybody up!” Cynder barked loudly.

Ta’torol and Forlorär woke up calmly and stretched, before standing up. Ta’torol rolled his head around, cracking some of the joints in his neck as a satisfied sigh escaped his jaws. On the other hand, Aerus and Cybalt weren’t nearly as calm as the two soldiers, jolting awake with a yelp due to the sudden shout cutting through their sleep.

Aerus groaned and looked up, seeing Cynder standing over him, looking down with an unreadable expression. There was still fury burning in her eyes when she looked at him, but Aerus wasn’t awake enough to fully register that. “Come on, Cynder. I’m tired,” Aerus complained.

She reached out and slapped him. “I did warn you I’d be waking you all up early,” Cynder snapped. “Now get up for breakfast.”

Ta’torol just smirked at the little argument, also not quite registering the animosity Cynder had towards her brother. He flicked his half-tail in amusement, before going to strap his metallic tailblade to the end of his tail. He made his way to the entrance of the cave, immediately looking up into the sky.

“Don’t worry, you too. It’s not that early,” Ta’torol chuckled.

“Oh yeah? What hour is it?” Cybalt groaned as he slowly stood up.

Ta’torol rolled his eyes. “It’s about the eight hour, probably close to the ninth.”

“Technically, we’ve slept in,” Cynder grumbled. “I wanted to be up before the eighth hour to get to Typhaar by the sixteenth. I want to talk to Queen Lehftin about what’s going on and get as much information as I can before tonight. With the rate the murders have been increasing, I’m sure they’ve probably hit almost daily by now; we’ve gotta keep our eyes open.”

With that, Cynder made her way outside, the two soldiers following her. Aerus and Cybalt stayed behind a little bit, neither ready to move. Cybalt approached Aerus, noticing his conflicted expression. “Hey, you alright?” Cybalt asked, placing a paw on Aerus’ shoulder. “You look awful.”

“Cynder and I had… an argument… last night, while you guys were all sleeping,” Aerus murmured.

“Oh. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. You’d be better off not getting involved either. Trust me.”

Without another word, Aerus left the cave, leaving Cybalt standing there in confusion, before he finally snapped out of it and followed his friend. When they found the rest of the group, they were plucking fruits from a tree; Cynder had suggested a bit of a sweeter, fresher breakfast rather than trying to find some more meat, however Aerus was also sure that she just didn’t want to deal with the way he and Cybalt didn’t want to eat wolf meat.

They ended up with nineteen large pieces of fruit. Cynder took four, leaving five for the rest of them. They ate in silence, and before long, they had taken off to the skies once more, flying in silence. As they flew closer and closer to Typhaar, the air turned grim among the five dragons as their reason for being there suddenly became all the more real to them. It was especially grim for Aerus. This was not just a fun trip to say hi to everyone and meet old friends; this was a mission to stop a murder spree. It was a mission to stop a potential regicide.

Their flight continued in silence. They flew, they rested, they flew again, stopped for lunch, and returned to the air once more. It was halfway through the seventeenth hour by the time they made it to Typhaar.

Upon arriving, Cynder could tell Aerus was hiding his excitement as he landed in this familiar city. She quickly got Cybalt to take them to see Queen Lehftin to inquire her in more detail about what was happening. Cynder wanted all of them to come with her, including Aerus.

The queen was quick to meet them in the foyer of Typhaar Palace once she was notified of their arrival. She was a very large dragoness, almost Cynder’s height, and wore luscious cyan robes down her glistening grey scales. She was astoundingly beautiful, especially for a three-hundred-year-old dragoness. Her voice showed a bit of age, but was still fairly smooth and regal.

“General Cynder, I’m glad you could make it,” she greeted, bowing her head to Cynder, to which she gracefully and respectfully repeated back to the queen. “There’s been some awfully pressing matters in Typhaar, as I’m sure Cybalt has likely explained to you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He’s told me,” Cynder replied.

“Now, we’ve tried to figure out who the culprit is on our own, but it’s been getting increasingly more dangerous now that we’ve had four nights in a row of murders, one of which included my younger brother last night. The murderer is always gone by the time we get there. They’re quiet and quick to silence their victims, but they’re incredibly messy.”

“Sounds like the work of Spyro’s goons. Anyone working for Spyro often turn out to be messy killers, from what I’ve noticed. It’s sickening.”

“So you agree that it might be someone working for Spyro?”

“Absolutely. I think I know what group of dragons it is as well. They’re known as the Dark Assassin Corps, and they’re a group of young dragons that have been raised to be killers. They rarely leave Dark Peak, but when they do, they’re on a mission to kill, whether the intent is to cause havoc, to scare people, to kill someone of importance, or all three. With the way the murders have been increasing, I’m bound to think your head might be on the chopping block soon, especially with your daughters killed, and now your brother.”

“I feared that too. There’s just this feeling that I have that I’m next, very soon. That’s why I sent Cybalt to reach out to you. Not only to protect me, but of course to protect my city and my people. They don’t deserve to be living in this fear.”

“No one does.”

“Now, tell me about this Dark Assassin Corps. You said they were all young dragons. How young exactly are they?”

“Children. Your Majesty, they’re like me.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, the queen’s guards looking nervously at Cynder, and the queen herself lowering her head in thought, shaking her head.

“This… doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

“I don’t either, but it’s true,” Cynder insisted. “I saw as those kids got taken to Dark Peak to get corrupted and to enter this group of killers. Twelve years ago, the kidnappings started. I remember the sieges on many of the smaller dragon towns, where the children were the targets. We failed to stop them, and they made off with dozens of younglings, all doomed to meet the same fate that I did all those years ago.”

“The thing I don’t get is why they would target here,” one of the guards murmured. “I mean, we’ve never really been involved in the war over the last twelve years, like… at all.”

“Is there something here that Spyro might want?” Ta’torol piped up.

“Like what?” Queen Lehftin questioned.

“Anything that might be of value to him,” Cynder clarified. “Don’t get me wrong, sometimes he does things like this for a bit of fun, or to try and spread his twisted ideology and to assert himself over other parts of the world, but if there’s anything valuable here that he could make use of, that could also be why he’s doing this. It could be a tactic to scare the answer out of you once he finally comes here himself.”

“Well… we do have many valuables here. We’re wind dragons; almost everything we produce is all about valuables. Gemstones, rings, jewellery… that’s what we do here. We even have several magic items and trinkets hidden away that we rarely let out into the open.”

“If you have items of magical value then yes, you are absolutely a target for something that Spyro wants,” Cynder explained. “We need to stay on high alert.”

“That much I can agree with.”

“Where are these trinkets located?”

Queen Lehftin leaned forward and whispered to Cynder, “Somewhere in the palace. However that is all I’ll tell you; I don’t want to tell you in case something slips.”

“Fair enough, that’s all we need to know. We’ll stick around here then: to protect you and to protect these valuables. Ta’torol, I want you stationed inside the palace with the other guards should anything happen in here. Queen Lehftin, increase the security around your chambers, and maybe have a guard be in there with you just in case. Forlorär, I want you patrolling the outer perimeter of the palace. Aerus, I’d like you to join him. Get some guards around as well. I’ll keep watch on the roof so I can get a wider view of the rest of the city too. I’ll notice if anyone enters the city walls from up there.”

“How come we’re fortifying the palace so much? We can’t be sure if they’re making a move for the palace yet,” one of the Typhaarian guards questioned.

“Just in case, especially with so many of Queen Lehftin’s relatives being targetted already. The city will fall into chaos and disorder if she’s killed; we need to make sure she’s protected and safe,” Cynder explained. “If they don’t make a move on her, that’s why I’m up on the roof. I have great night vision due to my shadow element, and I’ve gotten a very good eye for scouting for these sorts of things; it’s one of the few things I can thank my time as the Terror of the Skies for. I’ll be able to see any suspicious dragons and where they’re going.”

“Fair enough, that makes sense. Did you want any guards up there with you too, just in case something does happen?”

“May as well; a few extra paws couldn’t hurt.”

“Great. Agliar, would you be able to get Prafûr and Osmir and tell them to meet Cynder up on the roof of the castle by sundown?” Queen Lehftin asked the guard, to which he gave a nod and turned around, leaving them.

“Brilliant. Come sundown, I want everyone else to be in their position too,” Cynder ordered. “Until then, is there anywhere we can go for food, Queen Lehftin? We’ve all been flying all day and it’d be good to get our energy back up ready for tonight in case something happens.”

“To save you from trying to find somewhere, you can have dinner here. I’ll get the chefs to whip you something up as quick as they can, especially since it’s nearly sundown,” the queen replied with a smile. “Guards, please show them to the dining table.”

With that, they were guided down the hall to a large, fancy dining room, where a very long table sat. There was a really fancily decorated seat at the head of the table, supposedly for the queen, so nobody sat down there. All the other seats were still rather fancy, with large silver sequin cushions and fancy silver plates and chalices at each spot.

“So, how long will we be staying here, Cynder? I can’t imagine it’ll just be tonight,” Ta’torol questioned once they had sat down.

“I don’t think so either. I’d imagine we will stick around as long as we need to, hopefully only a few days. Hopefully everything dies down soon, as I think it’ll be best to leave once we’re sure that the queen, as well as the city, is safe, but we also need to make sure we’re not leaving Warfang vulnerable without us, too. Especially without me,” Cynder explained.

She looked at the guards in the dining room, who nodded. “The queen was hoping you guys would at least stay for a few days. We understand if we see nothing happen and you guys have to leave, but hopefully we can get to the bottom of this,” one of the guards said.

“I agree. But, considering the frequency of the murders you’ve had recently, I’m ninety-nine percent certain that we will see some action tonight, so be prepared and attentive. You’ll need it.”

There was a small silence, before Aerus then spoke up. “So, you’re getting Prafûr assigned to you I hear? That’ll be cool,” he said.

“Who is he? You sound like you know him,” Cynder replied.

“He’s one of our best guards here. Super fast, super skilled in combat, and I don’t think he’s ever lost a fight. Mother always used to speak very highly of him.”

“They knew each other?”

“He’s her older brother.”

“So… he’s my uncle?” Cynder stammered, blinking in surprise. “And he’s… alive?”

“By the sounds of it, yes.”

Cynder just stared at Aerus in equal parts shock, happiness, and fear. Her jaw hung open slightly, and the corners of her lips twitched, unsure whether they wanted to curl up in a smile or not. She had abandoned the thought of having any other family alive outside of Aerus, but now she had an uncle. And he was alive.

I know we’re on business terms tonight, but… tomorrow during the day I’ll have to catch up with him, Cynder thought to herself. I want so badly to know more about him, more about my mother. I want to know if I have more extended family still alive. Did Mother have any other brothers and sisters. Did Father?

Her thoughts were interrupted as several servants walked into the room with plates of food and a large bottle of wine. They thanked the servants as their plates of food were placed down in front of them, but Cynder stopped them before the first chalice could be filled with wine. “None of us will have wine, just water thanks,” Cynder murmured, a serious light burning in her eyes.

Without question, the servant holding the bottle of wine nodded, before leaving with it. Cynder caught sight of Forlorär frowning. “Forlorär, no frowning. You know we need to be on high alert,” Cynder scolded. “No alcohol; you know my rules when we’re stationed on.”

“Sorry,” the lightning dragon murmured.

It didn’t take long before the servant returned with a jug of water, pouring it into each of their chalices. Cynder thanked the servants, before they all left them alone so they could eat in peace. It didn’t take long for them to finish their food, and before long, they were on their way to their stations.

Ta’torol immediately made his way to find the queen, making sure he could be as close to her as possible. Cynder, Forlorär and Aerus made their way towards the palace doors so they could head outside. When they opened the door, they were greeted by a gorgeous sunset that painted the sky in a glorious, vibrant orange. The other thing that greeted them were two armoured wind dragons standing in front of the doors.

“Good evening. You must be General Cynder,” the larger wind dragon said.

“Yes, I am. Are you the two guards assigned to me tonight?” Cynder asked.

“Affirmative.”

“Great, then let’s go. Forlorär and Aerus, good luck.”

With that, Cynder spread her wings and flew up into the air, rising up above the palace so she could find a good lookout spot on the palace roof to stay the whole night. She quickly found a really nice spot and made her way up to it, the two guards following. They all settled down quickly, making sure each of them were turned so they could cover as many different parts of the city all at once.

“So, I’m told you’re my niece,” the larger soldier, to which Cynder assumed was Prafûr, said. “I haven’t heard much of you since the days of Malefor.”

“They’re days I’m not proud of. Nonetheless, I’m glad I’m now fighting against the darkness rather than on it. I’d much rather put everything I learned from my days as the Terror of the Skies against the darkness that raised me,” Cynder replied sternly.

“That’s good. I’m glad to have you on our side, and to be working with you,” the other guard, Osmir, said.

“Agreed. You and I will have to catch up properly tomorrow once this mission has passed,” Prafûr added.

“I agree, but for now, let’s just focus on the task at hand,” Cynder insisted. “Now, I want you guys to be aware that there’s a huge likelihood that the culprits are like me: children, barely in their teenage years, who were corrupted by darkness and manipulated to kill.”

“Great, Spyro’s doing that now?”

“Absolutely. And to a much larger scale; it’s not an isolated instance like it was with me,” Cynder explained. “There were dozens of children taken about twelve years ago when the main kidnapping happened. I don’t know how many more have been taken since. And this is why I want us all to be cautious.This darkness makes its host extremely deadly. They do not feel or have emotions; all they care about is the mission at hand, which in this case, is to kill. They will do anything to achieve that goal, and they will not stop at wounding someone enough to take them out of the fight. They will fight to kill.

“Now, I want us all to be completely silent once the sun fully sets, and completely attentive to all corners of the city. Keep a close look-out for unusual activity both in the sky and on the ground. Be ready to spring into action. And for the ancestors’ sake, be extremely careful and look out for each other. I really don’t want anyone dying tonight.”

With that, not another word was said, grim silence washing over them.

The sun set, and the two moons rose into the dark night sky. Now all they had left to do was wait until things started.

Chapter Text

An hour soon passed, leaving the sky absent of the sun, Adrano and Zella dominating the dark expanse of the sky above them. Cynder was just happy it wasn’t a cloudy night. The moonlight shone down of Typhaar, illuminating it in the soft moonlight, allowing much better vision as they looked down upon the city below them.

The city was tinted with a slight green glow, as Zella was shining much brighter than Adrano was tonight, which was quite a rare event; Cynder was a little unnerved by this, due to Zella being known as the Ghoulish Moon and sometimes bringing bad circumstances when it’s more prominent in the sky. She tried not to think too much on it however, just trying to focus on the task ahead of her, taking careful watch on the city below her as she covered one half of the city that was visible from the palace, while Prafûr sat behind her, monitoring the other half.

It didn’t take too long before Cynder spotted something; it wasn’t too far away from the palace, maybe a block or two away from the edge of the palace’s courtyard. A faint, distant silhouette landed in the dark, quiet streets, looking around cautiously and suspiciously, before lowering itself into a crouch as it stalked towards a building that looked very much like a house.

Cynder turned around to Prafûr and whispered in his ear, causing him to jump with the sudden sound and heat of her breath. “A very suspicious dragon just landed and sneaked into someone’s house,” Cynder said. “Come. We’re going to check it out.”

Without waiting for her uncle to respond to her, she slowly spread her wings out, before leaping off the roof of the palace towards the street that she had seen the dragon silhouette land in. Prafûr was slightly unnerved as he flew beside her, noticing as her striking emerald eyes glowed brightly, reflecting the light that Zella emitted, giving off the same ominous vibe as the Ghoulish Moon up above.

They landed, making their way slowly to the house that the suspicious dragon had walked into. The door was closed. Cynder reached forward to grab the doorknob, but hesitated as she heard faint whispering from inside the house. She put an ear against the door, trying to make out the words. As she did so, she pointed to Prafûr and motioned towards the window, telling him to see if he could sneak a look inside without being seen.

Cynder could only get a few words out, but she didn’t like what she was hearing. The voice, while a whisper, sounded masculine.

“...create… distraction… get guards over here while you… her. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll… done quickly. Make as much…? Sure, I’ll make noise, sooo much of it. Once they’re… you find her, and… her. We’ll meet up again and find… Alright, see you then.”

Oh ancestors, ‘distraction’? Cynder thought. Yeah, they’re definitely going to kill someone to distract the guards from the palace and pull them away from their stations. With the amount of noise he’s claiming to make, it’ll definitely be heard from the palace; we’re not that far away from it. The guards better not come running out to investigate; I was right, they’re going to try and get something. The Queen’s lucky we’re here too; it sounds like they’re going to kill her too. Hope Ta’torol’s ready.

There were footsteps, and Prafûr dived under the window back to Cynder, fearing the intruder would now see him through the window. “What did you see?” Cynder whispered, trying to keep her voice at a volume that Prafûr could hear her, but not the intruder.

“Fire dragon, young adult, covered in dark markings, kind of like yours. He was talking to a black gem that he held to his face; he also appeared to be listening to it, almost as if it, or something else, was talking back to him,” the wind dragon explained.

“Okay. Just like I thought, it’s Spyro’s Dark Assassin Corps. Keep your wits about you,” Cynder said. “Now, hold tight onto me. We’re gonna sneak in.”

Confused but not questioning her orders, Prafûr grabbed a firm hold of her leg. As he did so, Cynder pulled both of them into the shadows. She had to hold a paw over Prafûr’s mouth to keep him from making a noise, as sounds made in the shadows could still escape to the world above. Cynder understood Prafûr’s discomfort; being pulled under the shadows was a scary experience for those not wielding the shadow element, as they would only see a dark, swirling void in front of them, the sounds of the world above becoming a painful, garbled mess of noise. She knew this from Spyro’s personal experience when she had pulled him under as a prank during their high school days, leaving him incredibly freaked out and disoriented. Of course, due to Spyro’s exposure to darkness now, he could use it just fine.

Cynder stalked slowly through the shadows underneath the door, pulling Prafûr with her. When they had made their way into the home, she released the shadows’ hold on them. In her peripheral vision, she caught Prafûr shuddering as he tried to process what just happened, but she just started to stalk forward, watching the red dragon’s tail disappear around the corner of the hallway.

She peeked around the hallway to see the red dragon a few metres in front of them, his scales a deep fiery red with black and dark purple markings snaking up his limbs and neck. The markings appeared to be much larger and more intricate than hers, meaning that they were probably corrupted by stronger dark magic, which didn’t surprise her as Spyro had proven that he was significantly more powerful than Malefor. On the red dragon’s shoulder was a metal shoulder plate with a black crystal sitting inside it; that was likely the gem that Prafûr had mentioned.

Cynder was forced to stop and hide back around the corner as the red dragon stopped and whirled his head around to look behind him. She briefly caught sight of his hideous, slitted red eyes, and Cynder was very confident that he had seen him. She heard a sigh from around the corner, before a click sounded. Then there was more whispering; he had likely taken the black gem out of the shoulder plate and was now speaking to it again.

“I’m being followed,” he whispered, his voice much clearer to Cynder and Prafûr now that they didn’t have a door between them. “Yes, I’ll continue with the mission. Is Lorrith still with you? Yes, bring her over; I might need some backup considering who I think is in here. You still have Grol’ethe with you, right? Alright, thanks.”

There was a click as the black gem was returned to the shoulder plate, before more footsteps sounded. Cynder peered around the corner again, watching as the red dragon continued moving forward, quietly opening each of the doors and peering into the rooms. She turned back to Prafûr and beckoned him over to her, gesturing at her front leg for him to hold it again. He did so, and Cynder pulled them both back into the shadows.

She pulled them both through the shadows towards the mysterious red dragon, aiming to sneak up on him. However, the sound of the front door opening and another set of footsteps registered in Cynder’s ears, causing her to freeze in fear, not knowing what to expect.

“By Vaa’glan, Lorrith, that was fast!” the red dragon whispered, causing Cynder to tense as he used the name of another one of the major dragon demons in place of ‘ancestors’, particularly one of the ones on a similar level to Naar’voth—she had done her research on the draconic demons to make herself more knowledgeable on them should another Naar’voth situation happen again.

“I’m sure you know I have good control over my speed when it comes to my lightning abilities,” a more feminine voice whispered, as a yellow dragoness appeared around the corner.

Lorrith bore a similar body shape to Cynder, being very tall and very slender with some decently defined curves, however she appeared to be more curvier and slightly shorter than Cynder. The yellow dragoness bore long, blackened horns that covered her head and jawline, and a tailblade that split into an upside-down cone of four blades. A ring of blades around her abdomen lay flat against her body; Cynder was almost positive that they would fan out around her when she was in battle. Many large black spikes covered her shoulders. Around her neck was a choker, almost like Cynder’s; Lorrith had her own black gem lying inside the metal choker, rather than having a shoulder plate like her comrade.

“Yes, you make a fair point, Lorrith,” the red dragon whispered. “Now, I’ve been told that this house should be home to a small family of a mother, father, and two children, one in their teens and one still a hatchling.”

“Oh, that sounds fun, Flaris,” Lorrith whispered with a smirk. “I can’t wait to fill the night with their screams.”

“We’ll make them howl with pain,” Flaris chuckled as he peered into another room. “Anyway, I think I’ve found the kids.”

In the shadows, Cynder turned to Prafûr, who clearly seemed to be confused by the garbled whispers he could hear. “They’ve found the kids, and the red one’s got backup,” Cynder whispered as quietly as she could. “I wanna intercept them before they can do anything, so I’ll pull us out now.”

The moment Cynder and Prafûr leapt out of the shadows, Lorrith whirled around with equally horrific red eyes as Flaris, and a low hiss escaped her throat. Balls of deep purple lightning surrounded them, holding them suspended in the air, unable to move.

“I knew we were being followed, by Cynder nonetheless. What a surprise,” Flaris said softly, a dark chuckle leaving his throat as a demonic smile pulled at his lips.

“You two don’t want to do this, trust me. I’ve been in your position. You may think you want to do this but in the end you’ll truly regret it,” Cynder pleaded. “Don’t do something horrible, please.”

“You don’t know us, Terror of the Skies, if you’re even deserving of that name anymore,” Lorrith snarled, licking her lips. “I heard the stories of how you adored bloodshed, how your lust for blood suffocated your every thought. I also heard how you turned down Master Spyro’s offer to return to that life. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Don’t do this,” Cynder said again, trying to fight against the electric orb that held her in place, occasionally zapping her as the arcs of lightning bounced around inside the orb.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

With that, Lorrith turned and stepped into the room, while Flaris turned further down the hallway and spoke a soft chant, before a distorted wall shot up in the middle of the hall; it was a barrier, likely preventing the parents from getting in when they were woken up to the chaos that would soon ensue. He then turned and joined Lorrith inside the children’s room.

Cynder fought as hard as she could against the electric orb surrounding her, as did Prafûr, but they had no luck. They could only watch as the door opened, giving them a perfect view inside the room, as two wind dragons, one thirteen years old and one four years old, both female, lay asleep side by side in the middle of the room.

Cynder watched with horror as Lorrith effortlessly plucked her shoulder spikes out of her scales, before they grew back in place. She then threw the spikes she held into all four paws of the four-year-old youngling, pinning her to the ground and sending pain flaring throughout her paws. She immediately woke up with a loud squeal. The thirteen-year-old also woke up with horror at the sound. Before she could make a move to help her sister, Flaris thrust his tailblade down on her, slicing her torso in two, sending an agonised howl out of her jaws.

The screams grated against Cynder’s ears; they were hell to listen to. She found herself screaming for the two murderers to stop; there was no point staying quiet now that the silence had been destroyed by the children’s screams. She watched as Lorrith grabbed a firm hold of the younger sister’s head, her claws pulling back against the top of her forehead to keep the youngling’s eyes open and focused on her sister, as Flaris then moved around to the front of the older sister and thrust his claws into both her eyes. Both of the sisters’ screams tore through the air at an even louder volume.

This could definitely be heard from the palace. This could be heard throughout the entire neighbourhood. There were no other sounds to get in the way of this.

Cynder spotted movement down the hall, and watched as the mother and father slammed into the barrier, unable to get through, as expressions of unadulterated fear painted their faces. Cynder turned and looked into their eyes. She had seen those eyes many, many times in her life as the Terror of the Skies: a mother, terrified for her children’s lives, fear and sorrow gripping her as she knew she cannot do anything to save them, the grief all too real for her as she realised she might lose them forever; and a father, rage glistening in his eyes as hatred grew inside his heart for the monster that would dare harm his children, his claws wanting nothing more than to rip into those monsters the same way they were ripping into his kids.

Neither parent could do anything for their children, stuck on the other side of the invisible barrier that Flaris had created. But Cynder and Prafûr… they were on the right side of the barrier. Seeing their expressions made Cynder even more determined to get out of the electric orb detaining her, wanting to get in and save the children from any further harm.

With a roar, Cynder gathered all her strength to try and move even an inch inside the orb; she could make a few inches but that was it. The electric orb was too strong for her and she felt herself snapping back to her original position, the lightning inside the orb continuing to bite at her. All the while she watched as more blood was spilled inside that room, the older sister’s front paws being sliced off, followed by the younger sister’s wings.

She heard Prafûr snarling beside her, and turned to look at him as he too fought to get out of his own electric orb, but without luck. Cynder knew she needed a lot of power to get out of the orb, and it had to be elemental power. Raw physical power had no hold over this situation. Knowing none of her main elements could do anything, she called on the one element she rarely used: convexity.

Cynder felt the wild purple energy crackling in her clawtips, throbbing in her chest ready to force itself out, building up in her jaws. With a loud scream, she let it all out, feeling the powerful energy combust around her, breaking through the lightning that surrounded her. As she fell to the ground, she turned and released a beam of convexity at the lightning orb encasing Prafûr. It also combusted, throwing Prafûr to the ground.

“Quick, let’s go!” Cynder ordered.

They both ran into the children’s room, lunging at both of the remorseless monsters decimating the screaming children bleeding out onto the ground. Prafûr tackled Flaris to the ground, and Cynder attacked Lorrith. Cynder felt Lorrith struggle underneath her, and she fought with all her strength to keep the she-murderer pinned to the ground.

Lorrith snarled in pain, tossing her body around underneath Cynder, before she turned her head around and breathed a strong bolt of lightning at the four-year-old youngling, sending her flying into the air, the force plucking her out of the hold the spikes in her paws had on her.

The shoulder spikes remained embedded into the ground, and where they once stuck out of her paws now remained deep, bleeding holes that went in one side, out the other. The youngling fell on top of her older sister, sending them both sprawling out in pain. The four-year-old leapt to her paws, staggering as they gave way underneath her, but she tried her best to reach out and hold her sister’s face, covered in blood and optic fluids that streamed from her pierced eyes.

“Aela, I’m scared!” the younger sister shrieked, tears and snot streaming down her face at the awful pain flaring through her body, as well as the horrific sight of her older sister’s brutalised face.

“Wynna, is that you?” Aela cried, reaching out with bloody stumps towards her sister. “I can’t see you. Oh ancestors, I can’t see you!”

Cynder tried not to focus on the children’s heartwrenching exchange as she tried to hold Lorrith down, slamming her fist against her face forcefully. However, all the sounds were starting to get to her as she could hear the parents screaming and pleading in fear from behind the barrier too. As she beat Lorrith’s face relentlessly, she was astonished to realise that Lorrith was cackling , blood spilling from her nose and teeth, making her invigorated, crazy smile that much more terrifying.

The sensation of blood spraying across her tore her attention away from Lorrith, terrified that Flaris had gotten to the kids. Relief washed over her as she realised Prafûr had scored a huge slice across Flaris’ chest; large bloody cuts covered both of their bodies as they tore each other apart, sending even more blood spraying across the children’s bedroom.

This moment of distraction gave Lorrith the upper hand as the lightning dragoness breathed another beam of electricity, this time at Cynder, sending her flying across the room as well. Cynder slammed into the wall, quickly recovering as Lorrith was immediately to her paws and rushing towards the two children lying between them. Cynder rushed forward to intercept Lorrith, trying to prevent her from getting to Aela and Wynna.

They clashed, slashing and biting at each other, but in their clash, Lorrith had managed to turn herself around so that she was able to swing her tailblade at Aela. Cynder noticed and tried to pull her away, only just managing to make it a non-fatal blow. The cone of blades tore at Aela’s flank, causing her to collapse to the ground with another squeal of pain as blood streamed from her side, but it was not as deep as it could have been.

Lorrith snarled at Cynder, releasing another beam of lightning at her. Cynder was sent sprawling to the ground, and Lorrith reached up to pluck more spikes out of her shoulders, which grew back almost immediately, much like the last ones she had pulled out of her. Lorrith resorted to this knowing that Cynder would recover quickly, and only just managed to hurl them all at the two children before Cynder tackled her to the ground again. Three of the spikes slammed into Aela’s side, and one into the side of her face. Two scored hits on Wynna’s body, one slamming into her nostril and the other into the roof of her mouth, which was open from screaming in pain.

The lightning dragoness kicked out at Cynder, briefly knocking her off. Before Cynder threw herself on top of Lorrith again, Lorrith fanned out the blades around her abdomen, causing them to now stand erect and poised to strike around her stomach. Cynder saw this but reacted too late, as she thrust both of her front paws down with force onto Lorrith’s torso, severing her paws onto the blades.

Cynder immediately pulled herself free, crying out in pain as large bloody holes cut clean through her front paws. She tried not to pay too much attention to the pain as she stood, focusing on Lorrith again as she stood, bolting towards Aela and Wynna.

She was too late to pull Lorrith back from doing any harm to them. Claws slashed forward, and Wynna’s throat was torn open, silencing her with a spray of blood and a horrid choking sound. Aela shrieked. Their parents screamed from around the corner, knowing very well what that sound meant.

Cynder roared with rage, biting down around Lorrith’s throat and pulling her back. Lorrith thrashed about, throwing her limbs and tail in every direction. Her tail connected with Aela, sending her slamming against the wall with a heavy crack. Aela was still alive, but with the way her body refused to move after that horrific crack, Cynder knew she had broken her back severely and couldn’t move because of it. Aela sobbed pathetically.

Cursing with rage, Cynder threw Lorrith to the side, watching as she slammed into Flaris on the other side of the room. Lorrith was quick to climb off Flaris, who was grinning slightly, despite the small bloody holes left in his chest due to the ring of erect blades on Lorrith’s abdomen that had dug into him. They both laughed maniacally, before leaping back into battle. Lorrith spat three rapid bolts of lightning at Cynder and Prafûr, who both dodged each attack, before Prafûr leapt at Lorrith.

The corrupt lightning dragoness caught Prafûr by the throat in her jaws, before throwing him to the side; she quickly plucked more spikes from her shoulders and threw them at Prafûr, pinning him to the ground.

Lorrith, as well as Flaris, who was now standing on all fours, now both leapt at Cynder. She sidestepped away from Lorrith but was unable to dodge Flaris’ attack. She kicked him in the gut as she was thrown to the ground, causing him to stumble off her, before she scrambled to her paws and bit down hard on his throat. He just snarled and breathed a large stream of fire at Cynder, causing her to stagger off him, batting the flames away from her.

She growled in pain as Lorrith now bit down around her nape, pulling her further away from Aela, Prafûr and Flaris. Cynder thrashed in Lorrith’s hold, but didn’t manage to pull herself out of her grip as she felt herself being dragged further and further away. Cynder dived into her shadow, knowing that to be the only way out.

Cynder immediately leapt out of her shadow at Lorrith, but it was almost as if Lorrith expected it, as she sidestepped and slugged Cynder in the face, sending her sprawling into the ground. Lorrith lunged at her, and Cynder released a siren scream. The red sound waves shot through Lorrith, but they did nothing. Lorrith just cackled again as she held Cynder down with a paw around her neck. “That won’t do anything against us, dear Terror ,” Lorrith mocked. “How terrifying you are.”

A roar of rage burst from her throat, convexity following. Lorrith cried out as she staggered off Cynder, half of her face burned off from the harsh convexity beam. Cynder was quick to her paws to run forward and pin Lorrith down, placing her tailblade against her throat. She held both of her front paws on Lorrith’s head and shoulder, and stood with a hind paw on Lorrith’s flank.

Flaris was quick to react as he launched towards Aela, placing his own tailblade against the youngling’s throat. Cynder felt her heart lurch. Flaris just laughed darkly. “Let her go, Cynder, or I kill the whelp,” he threatened.

There was a cry of protest from down the hallway, but in the room was complete silence. Cynder and Flaris stared into each other’s eyes, and Cynder could tell there was no way that he was going to let up. Those maniacal, evil red eyes were dripping with bloodlust. Cynder grit her teeth, feeling her claws tighten around Lorrith’s head. The dragoness underneath her just giggled.

“If you kill Lorrith, I take the little whelp with her,” Flaris rasped darkly, his grin horrible, blood spilling from his gums. “So, if you were smart, which I don’t doubt that you are, I’d suggest you’d let her go.”

All Cynder heard was her heartbeat. She didn’t want to let go of Lorrith. Lorrith needed to be killed. It was the only way to stop this. But if she killed Lorrith, Flaris would kill Aela. And she wanted to avoid another child being murdered. She looked to the body of Wynna lying in the middle of the room between her and Flaris, her throat spilling out onto the ground below her, a dark combination of blood and optical fluids covering her face. Blood from her torso and legs pooled like a river below her, as the other half of her body and her two front paws lay scattered across the room, more blood pooling from them.

Cynder wouldn’t allow another child to die. She refused to. One tonight was enough. It was one too many. She had seen too many be torn apart in her lifetime, whether it was in her time as the Terror of the Skies or not. She had been the cause of too many young deaths; if she killed Lorrith now and Flaris took Aela with her, Cynder knew she would also be as much at fault for it.

She couldn’t do it.

Hating herself for it, she withdrew her tailblade and stepped off Lorrith’s body. Lorrith stood up with a growl, before stepping cautiously away from Cynder, watching her with an angry glare. Flaris chuckled. “Good girl, Cynder,” he said, almost mockingly, before he turned to Lorrith.

The two murderers locked gazes, before they nodded. Before Cynder could even register what was happening, it was all over. Lorrith whirled around, thrusting her coned tailblade into Prafûr’s chest, before pulling it out and bringing with it an impaled heart. At the same time, Flaris slammed his tailblade down, separating Aela’s head from her body with a sickening crack.

Cynder screamed long and loud.

Lorrith cackled wildly, before her red eyes pulsed with a powerful glow. The parents ran from around the corner into the room, and screamed when they saw the carnage that covered the room… the state of their two daughters.

Rage blinded the father, as he lunged forward at the two evil dragons that stood over the corpses in the room. Cynder cried out in protest, knowing that Flaris would be too strong for a dragon not professionally trained in combat. Lorrith rushed to her and held her back, pinning her to the ground. Cynder struggled against Lorrith, but she had such a strong hold on her that she was unable to move, being forced to watch as the two kids’ father leapt towards his demise.

He slashed twice at Flaris, but the large red dragon nimbly dodged both attacks. Flaris then thrust his head forward, slamming it into the face of the father. The wind dragon staggered backwards, disoriented from the hit, before Flaris charged forward with his horns aimed forward, thrusting them into the father’s chest. With a gurgling choke, the father collapsed onto Flaris’ head, before he threw him into the wall with a heavy crack. Blood streamed from his chest and nose, and Cynder knew that he was going to die.

“STOP, PLEASE!” Cynder pleaded, but she felt a firm paw slam down onto her head, applying pressure on it so she couldn’t move her jaw to speak. A wordless scream left her lips.

Flaris cackled as he painted the wind dragon’s body with rivers of dark red, tearing open his chest, stomach, face, and finally, his neck. It barely took thirty seconds, but it felt like a lifetime watching it happen. The father slumped over onto the floor, joining his two daughters in the bloody scene.

Lorrith suddenly leapt off Cynder, and she watched as the evil yellow dragoness lunged at the mother, who was in the process of running away. The murderess plucked more spikes out of her shoulder, slamming them into many different parts of the mother’s body as she literally pinned her to the wall. Wings, limbs, torso, even the sides of the neck.

“You will hang here and watch as those corpses rot, you hear me, worm?” Lorrith said with a dark giggle, before walking away from her.

Cynder had now managed to get to her paws, and was about to run to Lorrith to intercept her, but Flaris had snuck up from behind and bit down around her nape, before throwing her behind him and out of the bedroom window, the glass smashing spectacularly.

She blinked, her vision blurry and head throbbing from the impact. She took a good minute to properly recover from the blow, but she was shocked to realise that the two dragons hadn’t come out to follow her and continue attacking. They must have decided they had better things to tend to… such as the palace.

Standing to her paws, she was about to make her way back to the palace to help out, but remembered the mother still inside the house, hanging against her wall, forced to stare at her daughters, her mate, and a complete stranger, all bleeding out and rotting on the ground. She couldn’t leave her like that. So, she quickly ran back through the window that she had been thrown out of, devastated to see the state the mother was in: her body trembled in its bindings, and her eyes jumped erratically between each corpse that painted the bedroom red. She had no tears left to cry; her eyes were already completely red from crying all the tears she could give.

Cynder cursed inwardly. She had been in that position before. Many, many times. The loss of too many civilians, too many soldiers, too many friends… her own family, biological and mated… it had all broken her, so much to the point that experiencing loss like this didn’t make her cry anymore. It was natural to her. It was normal. She felt heartless, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. She felt like the Terror of the Skies again, watching as more families and cities got torn apart brutally , while she felt nothing .

The most she could do was help… show that she still cared even though she felt nothing towards the losses of any of these dragons.

That’s why she continued doing this. That’s why she pushed on for all these years, trying to lead dragonkind to a victory over Spyro, even when it seemed impossible, even when it seemed there was no hope.

Cynder ran towards the mother, ripping out the spikes that Lorrith had stabbed her with, carefully catching her when she finally fell down from the wall she was pinned to. The dark dragoness felt her heart sink when the distraught mother didn’t even acknowledge her. She just stared aimlessly at the ground, breathing shaky, arms trembling, the trauma slowly setting into her mind.

A distant explosion filled the air. “Ma’am, I need to go now. Are you okay if I leave you on your own?” Cynder asked.

No response.

“Ma’am?”

Still nothing.

“Can you hear me?”

A nod.

“I have to go sort out something else. I need to follow those two… monsters. Can I trust that you’ll be alright on your own?”

Another nod, a bit more hesitant this time.

“Alright. Go take yourself to the infirmary to get your wounds looked at. And for the record, I’m terribly sorry that we couldn’t save your family.”

“Thank you,” the mother croaked.

Cynder knew that was all she was going to get out of her. She just nodded back, before turning and bolting out of the front door of the house. She could see in the distance, the palace was lit by fire and bellowing with smoke. Cursing, she spread her wings and flew towards the palace as fast as she could, trying not to let her own wounds get in the way of getting there.

This is far from over. You’ve been through worse; hold in there, Cynder, she thought to herself. You still have a mission to complete. You still have a queen to protect, a city to protect. They’re counting on you.

You have to do this.

The palace was in a state of complete chaos when she arrived. Everyone who was stationed out the front of the palace was now in a fight with two more dragons on top of Flaris and Lorrith: an ice dragon and an earth dragoness, both of them bearing the same hideous red eyes and the same complex dark markings as the other two murderers. Three dead guards lay on the ground, blood spilling from their bodies. Cynder looked down and that the ice dragon was beating up Aerus, blood covering her brother’s face.

With a growl, Cynder dived, knocking the ice dragon off Aerus and stabbing him with her tailblade. The ice dragon snarled, breathing ice at her face, but she remained strong as she stood on top of the dragon, holding him down, the ice shards scraping past her face and drawing blood in areas where there wasn’t already. The ice dragon then gave a mighty kick, sending her toppling off him.

The ice dragon got up and roared, before opening his four wings—Cynder cursed once she saw the second set open out—and flapping them several times, summoning an icy gust around them, before he finished with a final strong flap of his wings, sending the ice shards towards Cynder. She cried out as the jagged ice shards slammed into her arms and legs, some of them managing to go completely through her flesh as her limbs were pinned to the ground, which the ice shards now penetrated.

The ice dragon leapt into the air, jaws wide open as a second and third row of fangs protruded from his jaws. They were already bloodstained. Before the ice dragon could leap on top of Cynder, Aerus slammed into him, knocking him back down. Flaris dove onto Aerus from behind him, knocking him off his ice dragon comrade. Flaris snatched up Aerus’ throat in his jaws, until Flaris was yanked off the wind dragon by Forlorär, leaving long bloody tears in Aerus’ neck where Flaris’ teeth had been dragged out from.

A wind dragon guard had also run up to Cynder and started pulling some of the ice shards in her body out. Once the ones pinning her to the ground had been pulled out, Cynder thrashed about, leaping onto the ice dragon who was beginning to help Flaris attack Forlorär, pulling one of the looser ice shards out of her body with a large squirt of blood, before shoving it violently into the side of the ice dragon’s neck. The ice dragon let out a pained gurgle, blood streaming from the deep stab wound, and staggered backwards, before lunging at Cynder, knocking her into Flaris.

Cynder kicked the ice dragon off her and then proceeded to roll off Flaris. Flaris was quick to get up, and breathed a long stream of fire at her and Forlorär. With a roar, Cynder let out a strong gust of wind, combatting against the stream of fire to keep it away from them. While Cynder did this, Forlorär leapt out to the side and released a crackling bolt of lightning straight for the corrupted fire dragon, hitting Flaris square in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Cynder leapt on top of Flaris, and began clawing at his chest, throwing blood everywhere. Flaris was now screaming in pain. It felt good to hear him scream after the two children he murdered. The corrupted ice dragon breathed a beam of ice at Cynder, hitting her hard in the side of the head, and she staggered off Flaris, head spinning.

Flaris didn’t get up. He just lay there, groaning in pain. He didn’t even have it in him to laugh like he had been earlier as deep bloody wounds covered his body, the ones from Cynder combining with the ones Prafûr had given him earlier.

Cynder shook her head with a groan, trying to recover from the ice beam, before she launched herself at the ice dragon, punching him hard in the face. Blood, as well as a broken tooth flew from the ice dragon’s mouth, his head being knocked sideways from the punch. He didn’t have time to recover as a guard leapt on top of him, clawing at his chest and neck, adding to the blood streaming down his neck from the ice shard Cynder had stabbed into it.

The ice dragon howled with anger, savagely kicking the guard off him, before standing and ripping the ice shard out of his neck with a large spray of blood. With a growl, he spat three more ice shards out of his mouth towards the guard that had attacked him, each one aimed at his throat. All three shards hit with deadly precision, and the guard fell to the ground with a pained groan, blood streaming down his neck. The ice dragon released two more ice shards aimed at the guard’s chest this time. He ceased to move once the cold weapons met their mark.

Cynder growled, running towards the ice dragon and biting down into his neck and throwing him to the side. The ice dragon slammed into Lorrith and the earth dragoness as they fought three more guards, now reduced to two as Lorrith cut one down with a tailblade to the throat. “Ja’goll! Are you alright?!” the earth dragoness exclaimed.

“I’m fine, Grol’ethe!” Ja’goll scowled, spitting blood from his mouth as he struggled to his paws, but one of the guards leapt on top of him, sending him tumbling back down to the ground.

Lorrith was quick to react, biting down on the assailant’s neck and pulling him off Ja’goll, before slamming the guard to the ground. She grabbed a firm hold of the guard’s body with all of her paws, before she yanked her head upwards, the guard’s neck still held firmly in her jaws. The guard’s head was torn clean off his neck with a massive spray of blood.

Lorrith seemed to have the most kills so far that Cynder could count, and also seemed to be one of the fastest fighters out of the lot, so Cynder saw it would make sense to try and put her out of the picture as quickly as possible, wanting to prevent any more casualties caused by this monster of a woman. Running forward, she spat a glob of venom at Lorrith, watching it splatter all over her face. The sizzling sounded immediately as it burned through the exposed flesh from the convexity burns Cynder had already given her, and for the first time, Lorrith screamed.

It was almost music to Cynder’s ears to hear that demoness scream after the amount of pain she had caused.

Ja’goll swore as he stood, watching Lorrith try not to touch her face as the venom ate away at her flesh. “Grol’ethe, cover for us. I’m taking Lorrith back to Dark Peak; Spyro can help her out,” he said. “She hasn’t got much time but at her speed she’ll be able to take both of us there fast enough to make it.”

“But Ja’goll—!” Grol’ethe started.

“No, we’re going; we can’t lose her. Besides, we still have backup!”

It’s several hours’ flight back there! Cynder thought. Is Lorrith really that fast, or has Spyro given them a resistance to the dark elements?

She remembered back to the fight in the house, when she had tried to use her siren scream on Lorrith. That won’t do anything against us, dear Terror, Lorrith had said.

Damn it, even my most potent elements won’t do anything, Cynder thought. I guess I’m stuck using wind and shadow to fight, but I can’t rely on it too much since I’ve already used convexity quite a few times tonight. I don’t know how much more my essence core can take; with how little I use convexity it’s definitely not used to it.

She was caught off guard as Grol’ethe tackled her to the ground, her tail raised to strike. Cynder cursed as she realised Grol’ethe’s club was covered in large, nasty spines. She watched the spiked club rush down towards her head; it would kill her instantly if it slammed into her head. With how huge Grol’ethe’s build was, Cynder knew she was outmatched in terms of strength. Cynder’s only option was to dive into her shadows.

Just in the nick of time, she let her shadows envelop her and she watched as a split second later, the spiked club flew over her face where her head had once been. She stood and ran to the side a little, before leaping out of her shadows and trying to tackle Grol’ethe to the ground.

Cynder merely landed on Grol’ethe, unable to pull the large, bulky dragoness down to the ground, so she decided to just start clawing at Grol’ethe, but found that her scales were incredibly hard to pierce. Grol’ethe let out a loud roar, before throwing herself down on the ground, rolling herself over so that she landed on top of Cynder. Cynder swore she felt a rib crack.

She felt Grol’ethe get off her, but pain flared through her muzzle as a heavy fist slammed into it. Then another. A third blow never came.

Cynder looked up to see Grol’ethe now distracted by Aerus and Forlorär as they had leapt on top of her, both trying to attack her with claws and elemental blows as they tried to throw her down to the ground, but without fail. Grol’ethe let out a snarl as she whirled around, throwing Forlorär off her as he lost his hold on her, but Aerus kept a firm grip. She then turned and aimed an earth missile at him, which slammed into the side of his neck.

He cried out in pain as he dropped from Grol’ethe’s side, pulling the earth missile out of his neck. It wasn’t deep, and it was closer to the base of his neck, but it was clear it still hurt like hell especially with the amount of blood spilling from the wound.

Cynder knew Grol’ethe was too strong for any of them to fight, even together. She didn’t want to have to do this, but she knew it was the only way to fight her off.

She called on convexity again.

Purple energy crackled in her jaws, and a wild, pulsing beam of convexity tore from her throat, engulfing Grol’ethe’s face inside it. Grol’ethe roared with pain, but Cynder kept the beam going. The earth dragoness tried to step out of the beam burning through her face, but due to the slow speed she was staggering, Cynder followed her, keeping her convexity beam aimed directly at its target.

It was maybe twenty seconds after she let out the beam when her chest began to hurt.

Ancestors damn you, essence core.

Cynder tried to catch herself from collapsing to the ground, calling off the beam of convexity. She breathed heavily, keeping her legs spread out in a wide stance to keep herself standing, despite the awful pain in her chest. She looked up as Grol’ethe picked herself up off the ground, her face disfigured beyond recognition.

The dark green scales were black and crusty; most of the ones around her eyes, the bridge of her snout, and her right cheek were completely burned away and revealing horribly charred flesh. The flesh around her right cheek was so horribly burned that some of it had shriveled up into thin, black shreds that revealed the bone of her skull underneath.

Grol’ethe cursed Cynder, her voice harsh and raspy, before she turned and took flight after Ja’goll and Lorrith, leaving them. 

“Are you alright, Cynder?!” Aerus asked as he and Forlorär ran towards her.

“I… I’m in a lot of pain. My essence core… I’ve used too much elemental magic for tonight,” Cynder croaked.

“I suppose using convexity will do that with your situation,” Forlorär murmured.

“I used it three times earlier as well; I’ve used it quite a lot tonight. I’m surprised my essence core held out as long as it did among the other elemental attacks I was using,” Cynder replied.

“How did… how did what you were doing go?” Aerus questioned.

“Terribly. We lost Prafûr, as well as two children and their father. Their mother… she was alive last I saw her but I don’t know how she is now. She was… mentally destroyed. I told her to go to the infirmary to get some medical help before I came here, but I don’t know what happened to her afterwards.”

“I’m just… I’m just glad it’s over now. We won.”

“No. We didn’t. They said they still have backup. More will be coming, either tonight or tomorrow night, I don’t know. I just hope it’s not tonight,” Cynder said as she looked around, taking note of the fire surrounding them, illuminating the front of the palace. “It looks like no one’s made it in the palace yet at least, so hopefully the Queen and everyone and every thing inside is still safe.”

Cynder inhaled to continue speaking, but a pained cry interrupted them. It was young and prepubescent. Cynder turned to the source of the sound, before swearing, standing and running towards where Flaris lay. He was smaller than he originally had been, tears streaming down his face as huge pools of dark blood oozed from countless wounds on his body. She looked at the wounds that she had dealt to his chest from the last time she had seen him in that battle and gasped with horror at the reality of what she had actually done.

His chest was an awful mess, consisting of a huge gaping hole that betrayed view of his lungs and heart, and Cynder noticed that she had actually clawed out some of the outer membrane of his lungs. The ribcage was cracked; that had allowed her to get into the lungs. She watched the heart lurch weakly with every beat; it was struggling to pump blood through his body.

Ancestors, she had done this. Throughout all of this, she had completely forgotten that he was still a child, and she had done this.

If Flaris was to die, she would have just committed child murder also.

She would have done it again.

She felt cursed. She had done many atrocities and killed many during her time as the Terror of the Skies, but she always felt that killing children was the worst out of all she had done. She vowed not to do many things again after she became a regular dragon again, but child murder was the biggest one out of the lot. And she had done it again in Armageddon. She had since vowed she would never kill another child, and now here she was, about to watch another child die by her claws.

She looked down at her claws, covered in a thick, red layer of blood. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry. Why did the tears never come when she wanted them to?! Curse you ancestors, let me cry of my own will for ONCE!! Cynder thought.

At least, if Flaris did die, he wouldn’t die corrupted; that was one thing Cynder was at least happy about. The darkness had been dispelled from his body, most likely because he was going to die. It made Cynder wonder how close she was to dying in the realm of Convexity, since her body also returned to normal when she was defeated.

Cynder wouldn’t let Flaris die alone.

With a shaky breath, Cynder hesitantly put a soft, bloodied paw on Flaris’ shoulder. He let out a whimper, before he cried out in pain. “You’re going to be fine, Flaris. You’re going to be fine,” she whispered. “I’m with you.”

“I… I… I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Flaris stuttered, spitting up blood. He coughed and tried to inhale, but instead he could only let out a horrid, hoarse wheeze. Ancestors, he couldn’t breathe. He stammered, trying to speak, but he was running out of air. His face was contorted in pain, but something in his eyes betrayed the fact that what he wanted to say was important. Cynder bent down towards his mouth and gently breathed a small gust of wind into it, despite her essence core protesting the action, and he finally inhaled. “I… I-I-I w-w-was the f-f-f-first one to… t-t-to… to be c-c-corrupted. I-i-it’s only fitting that I-I-I was the f-f-first… first one to… d-d-d-die. I-I-I’m s-s-s-so s-s-sorry for… what I… d-did.”

With that, he ceased breathing. He ceased blinking. His head slumped to the side and that was it.

Flaris was dead.

As if the ancestors finally decided to give her mercy, she felt tears prick her eyes. Before she knew it, she was crying. She let out a long scream, raw and filled with emotion. She hadn’t felt this much emotion in so long, and… it hurt. Ancestors, it hurt. She had forgotten how much it had hurt to cry—to really, truly cry, not the brief quiet sobbing she had done the night before. She screamed again.

Once her second scream died away in her throat, she wiped her eyes with her wrists, as he paws were covered in blood, trying to clear her eyes a little bit so she could gaze upon Flaris’ body once more. Before her vision was blinded by tears once more, Cynder reached forward and slowly closed Flaris’ hollow crimson eyes, before she stepped back and let her sobs control her.

She was thankful that everyone had decided to give her space while she cried. She needed this. It didn’t take long for her to calm down. As much as Cynder wanted to keep crying, she knew her job was not over. She could cry later once she got home. If she was able to cry again.

Once Cynder had calmed down to just intermittent sniffles and whimpers, she heard Aerus stepping up towards her. She felt his paw on her. She refused to look at him, but she knew that he was crying too.

She despised what he said next.

“It’s alright, Cynder. This was nobody’s fault,” Aerus murmured softly.

“What in the HELL are you talking about?!” Cynder snarled, whirling around to glare daggers at her brother. “That… That corpse right there… It’s all my fault! I killed him! A CHILD!”

“Cynder, no. Aerus is right,” Forlorär said softly but cautiously. “It’s not your fault that you killed him. It was a violent and bloody battle. It’s Spyro’s fault. He corrupted Flaris, sent him here, and cornered you to the point where you had to kill the kid. Same with the other kids that were here. I think we all forgot in the moment that those violent, murderous beasts were actually kids, but that’s what this corruption does. It makes us forget. It makes us fight for our lives, and makes us truly think that these are bad people.

“It happened with you too, for many years. No one bothered to think that you were a child, corrupted and turned into a monster. They just saw what was in front of them: a scary dragoness that wanted to kill and maim and bring glory to her Dark Master. You only survived because we had no one as strong as you who could actually fight back and hurt you. You only survived because Spyro—”

“Don’t finish that,” Cynder snarled.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Forlorär murmured. “My point is, it’s not your fault that in the heat of battle, you felt so cornered that you had to bring harm to these kids, so much so where it took the life of one of them. You saw how they fought. We had no chance against them without holding back. We had to give it our all.”

Cynder sniffled, before nodding softly. “Thanks, but… I still feel like it’s my fault. I mean, after how my life started, I just… I feel horrible. They’re suffering the same way I suffered. Even worse if those dark markings mean anything. Flaris never got the chance to be redeemed. He never got to have a life outside of his corruption,” she replied.

“At least he’s with the ancestors now. They won’t judge him. He’s lucky he won’t live to get judged by society like you were.”

Cynder scoffed. “You’re right there, but he didn’t deserve to die. If he did, then that just means that I deserve to die too. We’re the same in that we were corrupted and used as kids, tormented by the dark warlord of our respective timeframe.”

Forlorär sighed sadly. Nobody said a word for a few minutes, not even the guards. They all mourned Flaris.

There was a sudden heavy thud that snapped them out of their mournful state. Another thud followed, and Cynder realised with fear that it was coming from inside the palace. She got up, turning and running into the palace, slamming the doors open with her shoulder. As she ran, the sounds got louder the closer she got to Queen Lehftin’s chambers.

Ancestors, that’s not good.

Two massive earth dragons, although not as bulky as Grol’ethe, also bearing the same complex dark markings, were currently attacking Ta’torol and the two other wind dragons guards that were in the palace. Queen Lehftin lay squashed up in the corner of the room, groaning and crying with pain, blood streaming from her shoulders. Her hind paw had been sliced off, her blood streaking across the room from her stump to where the paw now lay. Cynder noticed one of the corrupted earth dragons had a heavy clubbed tail, whereas the other had a metal blade, much like Ta’torol’s, which was smeared in huge amounts of blood.

Cynder saw the earth dragon with the clubbed tail slam his club into the head of the guard he was fighting, sending him crashing down to the ground with a heavy thud. The earth dragon grabbed the guard by the neck, before throwing him at the wall. The earth dragon then ran towards the downed guard, pressing his paw hard on the guard’s snout, holding his head against the wall, before swinging the club at the guard’s head, crushing it between the wall and the club with a massive snap of the skull and a spray of thick blood and broken pieces of brain. His left eye was popped clean out of its eye socket. The marble wall was dented and cracked too, stained a dark, deep red.

Cynder let out a roar as she lunged at the earth dragon, cursing Spyro for forcing children to cause this carnage. She cursed him for doing something that Malefor had done to her, something that Spyro had always cursed back in his days as a just, loving, caring dragon.

You truly have become the monster you fought so hard against, you devil, Cynder thought.

She sliced her claws down the earth dragon’s right eye, drawing blood from the skin around the eye, as well as the eye itself, but it was not enough to cut the eye out. The eye was good as dead anyway as its black optic fluids began to slowly ooze out with the blood, pooling out on his bottom eyelid and down his right cheek. The earth dragon cursed her, spitting two large boulders at her, both of which hit her in the chest. They hit with incredible force, too. The first was enough to cause her to stumble, but the second sent her sprawling to the floor.

The dragon leapt towards her and held her head down firmly to the ground, claws digging into her forehead and drawing blood. She felt the soft plip-plop of the mixture of blood and optic fluids landing on her snout from the stream of the gore that rolled down the earth dragon’s face. Cynder fought the dragon’s strong hold, but he released another two earth missiles that went clean through her forepaws, pinning even those to the ground, before he turned and did the same with her hind paws and tail.

Now she truly was stuck, with her limbs pinned down with earth missiles and her head immobilised with the heavy green forepaw that pressed it down. Her body was pretty much useless. To make sure it was useless, the earth dragon on top of her spat another earth missile into her back between her wing shoulders, wedging itself into her spine with a spray of blood. This one forced a scream out of her.

She watched as the earth dragon with the tailblade slit the throat of the guard he was fighting, before punching Ta’torol in the face, causing him to step back, blood streaming from his nose. Forlorär launched himself at the dragon that slugged Ta’torol in the face, only to receive a tailblade to the face, the long, wild cut running from Forlorär’s snout to his forehead up the middle of his face. The lightning dragon growled, stumbling backwards before collapsing, holding his paws to his snout and groaning in pain.

She saw Aerus lunge at the earth dragon on top of her, but the clubbed tail just slammed into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious as well as drawing blood from her brother’s temple. The dragon on top of her inhaled and let out a shout. “D’varin! Block the door, will you?!”

D’varin, the dragon with the tailblade, turned and slammed his forepaws into the ground, causing a heavy tremor to rip through the ground in front of him as a heavy barricade of rocky pillars burst out of the ground in the doorway of the Queen’s chambers, forbidding all entry to the room. “You happy? Now how about you actually do something, Trogon?!” D’varin scowled.

Both Ta’torol and Forlorär were the only ones that were still able to fight; Cynder knew that they didn’t stand a chance, dread pulling at her. Forlorär was back up on his paws, and Ta’torol was already in claw-to-claw combat with D’varin. Trogon, the dragon standing on top of her, spat an earth missile at Forlorär, which landed in his neck with a spurt of blood, knocking him back down to the ground. He didn’t get back up. D’varin on the other hand was quick to snap his fangs down around Ta’torol’s neck, dragging him to the ground before with a twist of his head, he snapped his opponent’s neck.

Cynder’s heart broke.

D’varin let out a loud laugh, before he began to step towards Queen Lehftin, blood dripping down his jaws. He dragged his metal tailblade on the ground with a dreadful scraping sound, leaving behind a trail of blood. “Now, my queen. Spyro knows you have the Ring of Spirits. Tell me where it is. Don’t make it hard for us,” D’varin said.

Queen Lehftin didn’t answer. She just stared at the carnage around her, before looking pleadingly at Cynder. Cynder caught Queen Lehftin’s gaze, and the look in her grey eyes told her what she wanted.

Attack him. Kill him.

Her mouth was still free, so she could still spit venom at D’varin. She opened her mouth wide, getting ready to spit venom at D’varin, but the assassin followed Queen Lehftin’s gaze to her, and scoffed. “Oh, Cynder. We can’t have that. Here, Trogon,” D’varin said, before his markings glowed a bright purple and a dark crystal materialised in his paw.

D’varin threw the crystal at Trogon, who caught it and stabbed Cynder in the neck with it. Cynder let out a scream as she felt the crystal sucking her mana out of her. It hurt . Her essence core flared up in pain as her mana was sucked clean out of her; it was some of the worst pain she’d ever felt from it.

It wasn’t long before she felt completely empty inside. Not as empty as the time where she almost lost all her ancestrite twelve years ago, because she knew it was still there due to her essence core pulsing with pain, but all her mana was completely gone. Now there really was no way she could use her elements to stop D’varin. Trogon had her well pinned, and she was way too wounded, exhausted, and filled with pain to be able to fight back against him.

All she could do was watch.

D’varin turned back to Queen Lehftin, who was crying even harder now. “Oh, poor queenie. All your guards are dead, even the Warfangian assigned to you by Cynder over there. I could never even begin to imagine how… how trapped… and frightened you must be. It’s just a regular night for me, spilling blood and taking what rightfully belongs to the darkness,” D’varin chuckled lowly. “Now, where is the Ring of Spirits?”

Queen Lehftin didn’t answer. She let out a few pained groans as she tried to calm her fearful sobbing down. She opened up her paws slowly, ready to summon a gale, but D’varin was quicker, creating another dark crystal with a flash of his dark markings, stabbing Queen Lehftin in the neck with it. The Queen screamed with pain. She stopped once her mana was ripped from her, but her painful groans kept continuing as the dark crystal continued to cause her pain.

D’varin chuckled with sadistic glee. “My Queen, this doesn’t need to be hard. Tell me where the ancestor-damned ring is, and I will consider not killing you,” he said. “Is it in a relics room? Where might this relics room be? Or… are you hiding it somewhere else?”

“It’s… it’s in the palace, but it’s not in the relics room. It’s too valuable and dangerous to put in a relics room. It needed to be somewhere where no one could find it. Where no one could use it,” the Queen croaked in between coughs. “We swore many millennia ago that we would protect it and prevent anyone from using it, and now, our oath as Typhaarian dragons still stands.”

“TELL ME WHERE IT IS, DAMN IT!” D’varin roared, drawing his tailblade and placing it threateningly on Queen Lehftin’s throat.

Cynder watched with horror as a small bead of blood dripped down Queen Lehftin’s throat. She silently pleaded that she would just say its location and be done with it. Spyro already had heaps of powerful relics that he had collected over the years. At this point, what was one more? She had no idea what the Ring of Spirits was, but there was so little hope after twelve years in the war and no chance of any victory that she almost didn’t care if the Dark Overlord got another one.

Queen Lehftin slowly shook her head. “I will not risk the safety of Typhaar and the rest of the world,” she breathed.

D’varin blinked, before a low growl rumbled in his throat. He lowered his tail before he kicked Queen Lehftin, rolling her over so her underbelly was exposed. He flashed his tailblade across her chest three times before he placed it back on her throat. The Queen screamed in pain as blood ebbed from her chest; they weren’t deep, deadly wounds by any means, but they were still pretty vicious and large.

“Tell me where the damned ring is, I swear to Naar’voth,” D’varin growled the gritted fangs.

Cynder felt sick at the mention of that horrid demon’s name.

Again, the Queen refused to answer, and D’varin slugged her in the face. Blood streamed from her nostrils and mouth. A few fangs hung loose from her gums when she parted her lips to let out a groan. D’varin pressed her for an answer again, but she still refused to say anything.

“I will get an answer out of you, queenie,” D’varin snarled, before he created two more dark crystals. He stabbed Queen Lehftin in the shoulders with the dark crystals, before they began to glow an eerie violet colour. D’varin slowly pushed the crystals further into her body, and the wet squelching of flesh and blood reached Cynder’s ears, before it was overpowered by the sound of Queen Lehftin’s hoarse screams of pain. She reared her head back as she screamed, and she eventually had to stop with a gurgle as the blood building up in her mouth began to run down her throat. She swallowed, lowering her head and let out another scream as D’varin suddenly yanked the dark crystals out of her body. The purple colouring was almost completely gone as the crystals were coated in a thick layer of dark, wet blood.

The crystals began to glow again, and red mist began to flow from Queen Lehftin’s deep wounds, before turning purple as it neared and entered the crystals. Queen Lehftin began to convulse violently as the red mist bellowed from her body. Her grey scales began to wilt, showing off her pink flesh. Her flesh was slowly going dark as it began to rot, pus and blood oozing from many areas on her body now as her flesh deteriorated even further.

Cynder let out a muffled scream of protest as she realised the red mist bellowing from Queen Lehftin’s body was her own life force.

“LAST TIME, QUEENIE! WHERE IS THE RING OF SPIRITS?!” D’varin roared.

“I-i-i-it’s underground. U-u-u-undern-n-neath T-T-Typhaar,” Queen Lehftin stammered weakly, spitting bloodied saliva from her mouth. “I-i-it’s too d-d-d-danger-r-rous to even k-k-keep in the r-r-relics room, s-s-s-so it was k-k-kept u-underg-g-ground, and has been th-there for m-m-m-millions of years.”

D’varin smiled and lowered the dark crystals. The bellowing red mist from Queen Lehftin’s body stopped, and she collapsed, a bleeding, rotting, messy husk, only just holding onto her life.

“Thank you for answering me. It didn’t have to be that hard now, did it?” D’varin asked, his voice a low whisper. “It’s a good thing that Trogon and I are earth dragons. Thanks for letting us know it’s underground. We’ll get to excavating promptly. Have a good night.”

Cynder thought D’varin was going to simply turn and leave. He did, but not without shoving both dark crystals deep into Queen Lehftin’s chest. She howled once more, her violent convulsions resuming, even stronger than they had been before. Her howls turned to horrid gurgles as blood bubbled in the back of her throat, splashing out of her mouth and running down her face. Her scales disintegrated and her flesh rotted, shriveling up and tearing itself apart. Suddenly, her cries and convulsions calmed, before she lay still, her rotted eyes staring up sightlessly towards the roof of her chambers.

Cynder let out a muffled scream, trying to fight Trogon who stood over her, but he held her down. Tears brimmed her eyes again. This wasn’t meant to turn out like this! Nobody was meant to die, especially the Queen! She looked around the room. There were dead guards. Ta’torol and Forlorär were dead. Aerus lay unconscious a few metres away from her; blood streamed down his face from where Trogon’s clubbed tail had smashed into his skull. He’d wake up with a heavy concussion, if they were even lucky enough to get out of this situation.

She didn’t like their chances. She wasn’t sure what D’varin had meant by ‘excavation’, but she didn’t like it one bit.

D’varin’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Trogon, let’s go find this damned ring. Make sure Cynder’s silent and fixated to the ground. She can suffer awake,” he said with a chuckle, before turning to her. “She can know that we are better servants than she ever was. She can know that she gave up her chance to ensure her safety and that she would have life by denying our Master. She can suffer, and she can die, with no one to come and save her.”

Trogon laughed with his comrade, before he stood off Cynder’s head. She raised it, until a large boulder struck her violently in the head, sending it slumping back down to the ground on its side. She was somehow still awake. Her vision swam, but she knew she was very much conscious. She opened her mouth and groaned, before a small earth missile shot through her open mouth and pierced through her tongue, sticking it to the ground. A howl tore from her throat.

She then felt a hard encasing of earth form over her snout, stopping her from moving her head. The earth missile on her tongue would have been enough to stop Cynder from moving her head. She wanted her tongue intact, not in two pieces. She wouldn’t dare try to rip her head backwards to free herself; the earth missile was halfway down her tongue, so she’d lose the majority of it.

With that, D’varin and Trogon turned, breaking open the barricade in front of the doors and leaping out. She could hear faint shouts and roars burst out when the two assassins made their way out of the palace, but they died out very quickly. By the sounds of it, most of the guards outside died, but she knew some probably ran off.

Cynder was here alone. She felt tears brim her eyes once more and she didn’t stop them. She wept. Everything hurt like hell. Even her emotions. This room… this room was a mess. Blood was splattered absolutely everywhere. Everyone in here was either very dead or very unconscious. She was the only one still awake, but she was very wounded. Blood spilled from her body in torrents, and the dark crystal was still embedded in her neck. Either the dark crystal would kill her, or she’d die of blood loss.

This was not the way she wanted to die. Ever since the Dark War, Cynder had believed that the remainder of her life would be in peace, and that she would be able to die peacefully when the time came to it. That’s all she’d ever wanted. A peaceful death.

This was anything but peaceful.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did Spyro have to do this to her? To the world? The world that he saved. Why did her death have to come now? She’d survived Armageddon of all things, and now she was left here to die by the paws of two dragons.

At least she’d be with the ancestors. She felt terrible, knowing that Aloelle, Terrador, her mother, had all asked her to speak with them, communicate with them, all those years ago. She barely did. She barely prayed, she barely spoke to the ancestors, she… she just stopped… believing. At least she could make it up with the ancestors now, and she could be with her parents.

She didn’t want to die but now she was starting to accept it.

She would be with her parents, but also with her friends. With Rubblerust and Tyrax. With Electrika. She’d be with the guardians: Terrador, Volteer and Cyril. She’d be able to go see the dragoness she killed in Armageddon and apologise. She’d be able to see the dragoness’ son she killed as well. She’d be able to see Vetar’s family and apologise to them. She’d be able to see her Uncle Prafûr once more. She’d be able to see Ta’torol and Forlorär. She’d be with Logron. She didn’t know if she’d be with Hunter since they’re different species and likely with different spirits, but she hoped she’d see Hunter… somehow .

She’d be with everyone.

So why won’t she die? Why was it taking so long? Everything hurt like hell. She heard her painful screams, muffled by the encasing over her snout. Ancestors, just make it quick! Please! She just wanted to die! Instinctively, she tried raising her tail, but pain flared up in it as she tried to move it. The squelch of the earth missile in her tail ripping through more flesh and spilling more blood reached her ears, and she winced at the sound.

The sound of pawsteps now reached her ears, before there was a gasp and a guard ran in, breathing heavily with shock at the sight of the carnage in front of him. Cynder let out another muffled scream, and his attention was brought to her. “Ancestors, there’s one alive! Guys, come on!” the guard shouted, and three more ran in through the doors. “Get her out and to the infirmary, she might be the only one still alive!”

The guards ran to her and began inspecting her. “Alright, pull the dark crystal out first, La’nul. That’ll be weakening her. Be careful though, we don’t want it to affect you too; smash it once it’s out,” the first guard ordered. “Herith and Araelon, pull the earth missiles out of her limbs. I’ll work on the muzzle. Once you’re finished with the crystal, La’nul, I want you to help me out. The stone casing looks strong.”

The other three guards nodded and got to work on freeing Cynder. With a spurt of blood, the dark crystal was out. Cynder winced in pain. La’nul threw the dark crystal at one of the bloodied walls of the palace foyer, causing it to shatter with a large spray of delicate minerals as well as a cloud of dark purple mist, which dissipated after a while.

La’nul then turned to what seemed to be the leader guard and helped him claw at the stone encasing over her muzzle. On a count of three, the earth missiles in her forepaws were yanked out, forcing another cry from Cynder and more blood. Then came the ones in her hind paws, followed by the one in her tail. The only one that was left was the one in her tongue, and that one hurt the most. She felt her whole mouth going numb as blood flowed from her tongue.

Air quickly rushed into her mouth and nostrils. It was only after the stone casing around her muzzle started to fall apart after the intense clawing that she realised she was being suffocated with no access to air inside the casing. La’nul swore as he noticed the earth missile in her tongue. “There’s another earth missile in her tongue, Ulyzon,” he said to the leader guard.

“We need to get rid of this encasing first so it doesn’t get in our way. Now that we’ve got some holes inside it, it shouldn’t take too long to get rid of it,” Ulyzon replied.

Before long, the stone encasing was destroyed, the rubble thrown off to the side. Ulyzon stepped up towards her open mouth and saw the pinned and pierced tongue. “Okay, we’re going to have to be very careful with this one,” Ulyzon said. “La’nul, can you press down on the tongue on both sides of the earth missile to keep it down? Cynder, are you able to open your mouth a bit wider?”

“I cahng’,” Cynder murmured. “Ish ngung, I cahng’ ‘oo’ ih.”

She had no idea if Ulyzon understood that last bit saying that she couldn’t move her mouth because it was numb, but he seemed to understand the ‘I can’t’ bit as he let out a sigh, both out of frustration and sadness. “Alright, Araelon, can you pry Cynder’s mouth open a little wider please?” Ulyzon asked.

Cynder felt Araelon’s paws grab her jaws and pull them apart a little more. La’nul was now able to get his paws inside there to press down on her tongue, and he cringed as he touched her soft tongue, but also pointed out something wrong with it. “Ulyzon, her tongue’s super dry and rough,” La’nul reported.

“She’s probably dehydrated with all the blood loss and action, and who knows how long she’s been in here alone for?” Ulyzon muttered. “Alright, Cynder. I’m going to pull the missile out. This is probably going to hurt. A lot. Brace yourself.”

Ulyzon grabbed a firm hold of the earth missile and pulled. Pain flared through her tongue as blood sprayed from it, and she let out a howl, pulling back her lips as far as they would go. Ulyzon, La’nul and Araelon stepped back, and Cynder closed her mouth, before spitting and coughing up blood. Her tongue hurt, and now she realised how dry it was. As a matter of fact, her whole mouth felt dry. At least she could feel her mouth again.

“Are you alright, Cynder?” Ulyzon asked.

Cynder just nodded. Ulyzon smiled at her, but it was a sad smile. “It looks like you’re the only survivor though,” he said.

“No,” Cynder croaked. “My brother Aerus was only knocked unconscious. He’s the only other who survived.”

“Go check on him,” Ulyzon ordered to Araelon.

Araelon nodded, running over to Aerus and checking for a pulse. “Yes, he’s alive,” he reported.

“Great. I want you to carry Aerus. La’nul, help me with Cynder. We need to take both of them to the infirmary, now,” Ulyzon said, before turning to La’nul. “Alright La’nul, we’ll need to be careful; Cynder’s very wounded, and we don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Understood, Ulyzon,” La’nul replied.

Soon, Cynder and Aerus were on the guards’ back as they turned and left, trudging through the dark of night towards an infirmary. It wasn’t took long after they stepped outside the palace before the ground began to shake violently.

Dust and dirt bellowed up from the ground, and cracks appeared in the cobblestone pavements. Loud screams filled the air as the rest of Typhaar awoke with the heavy tremors. Some buildings even cracked. Some of the cracked buildings also collapsed, silencing some of the screams and crushing the inhabitants underneath the rubble.

The loudest crack shot through the air, deafening and thunderous, as the palace split in two, clouds of rubble being thrown up into the air. It was a horrific sight, watching an entire city crumble to ashes around the palace.

Suddenly, a small, but bright, glowing gold ring shot out of the ground underneath the palace, leaving a trail of dust behind it. The sound of laughing filled the air as two silhouettes flew towards the floating ring, before flying away.

The rumbling and exploding dust continued, however, reducing Typhaar to a heap of rubble. A building collapsed nearby, almost flattening Herith. Another building collapsed. This one landed on top of Cynder, La’nul and Ulyzon with a loud crash.

Cynder’s vision went black.

Chapter Text

“Hey Forzen. Wake up.”

Oh for ancestors’ sake, Forzen thought as the sound of Muras’ voice from outside the door woke him.

This was the last place he wanted to be right now. Since Aerus had decided he wanted to go on this big trip to a far away dragon civilisation with Cynder and some other soldiers, Forzen had ended up living with Muras again. The older purple dragon had spent all of yesterday trying to explain to Forzen that he will try better to take care of him and that he was sorry for what happened at the restaurant they went to a few days ago, but Forzen was having none of it.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he started school today, Forzen would have outright ignored Muras.

I don’t want to go to school.

But he had to.

“Forzen, you have school in an hour, time to get ready,” Muras called from behind the bedroom door, knocking on it to try and wake up the younger purple dragon.

“Yes I know, I’m awake!” Forzen groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Forzen gave a large yawn, before he stood up and walked to the window in his room, looking out at the sky. It was still pretty early in the morning, the sun peering over the tall buildings around them and filling the sky and the city below it in a warm orange glow.

He groaned at how early it was, but eventually turned and made his way out of his room, closing the door behind him. He could smell food cooking downstairs. It was pancakes; Muras had made it twice when he was first staying with him, and as much as Forzen didn’t feel like saying it out loud, he kind of liked them. At least there was something good to start off the day.

Sitting down at the table, Muras served him a plate with three pancakes on it, topped with some cream and some blueberries. Muras made his own plate and sat down at the table across from Forzen. He awkwardly looked up at the older purple dragon, before he looked back down at his plate and began eating wordlessly. His eyes never left the plate of food; it was something to distract himself from Muras. The distraction didn’t last for long, as Muras tried to speak to him, to his annoyance.

“So, first day of school today. You… excited?” Muras questioned; even he sounded awkward asking Forzen this.

Forzen just scoffed. “More like dreading it,” he murmured around a mouthful of food, before swallowing. “I’m expecting today to be absolutely horrible. In fact I’m almost certain it’ll happen.”

“Hey, school’s not all that bad.”

“See, this is what you don’t get!” Forzen snapped, slamming a fist on the table. “I had a few kids in school try to beat me up the other day, before all of Warfang decided that I needed to die! No one trusts me! Everyone either hates me or has some ulterior motive! I don’t feel safe going to school!”

Muras blinked, not expecting Forzen to start yelling at him the way he was. The young purple dragon was usually much more reserved; this was the second time in knowing him that he’d ever blown up like this; the first was in the restaurant where he claimed that Muras didn’t care about him, which he wasn’t wrong to believe at the time. The restaurant was a mistake. But Muras knew he couldn’t be with Forzen all day every day.

“Forzen, surely the teachers will look after you,” Muras said. “They looked after me when I was a kid.”

“What did you not get from what I just said? Everyone hates me. They hate me because I’m Spyro’s son. They hate me because I’m purple. Two evil purple warlords in a row, Muras! This is the legacy I have weighing on my shoulders. I can’t prove that I’m not like them because no one will ever believe me! Malefor started out good! Spyro started out good! Who’s to say I won’t follow their pawsteps when I reach my twenties?”

“Forzen, you don’t know that you’ll—”

“Exactly. I don’t know that. And that’s what terrifies me. I just want to do good, I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to be like Malefor and Spyro. But am I truly a risk just by being here? What if everyone’s right about me? I’m scared about the abuse but maybe I deserve it.”

“No. You… you don’t deserve that, Forzen. No one does. Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“So how did you get through it, huh? You came after Malefor; how did you ensure you didn’t turn evil? How did you ensure that you weren’t bullied or beaten every day in school? Malefor may have been imprisoned sixty years ago but his influence was still as strong as ever. How did you, a purple dragon, end up so good and… and… accepted… by everyone here?”

Muras blinked. Forzen was confused; the way Muras reacted was very odd. The way he flinched at Malefor’s name this time, the way he struggled to figure out what to say, the way he looked… almost guilty. Sure, Muras was often pretty nervous and cautious around him, particularly after the last time he blew up at him, but this was a whole different level.

“I… I did turn evil. For a time. Luckily, I was able to be… brought back by some amazing young soldiers before… before terrible things happened. I hid for a few years after that. It was Cynder who brought me back to Warfang twelve years ago, and while yes it was rough, I… I found my way in the end. Everyone knows who I am. Everyone knows I am on their side. They may not like me, but I’ve proved myself many times that I am an ally to Warfang. It wasn’t easy, and it won’t be for you, but that’s all I can suggest you do.”

Forzen didn’t know how to react to that information. Even Muras turned evil? Sure, he didn’t like Muras, but he could tell that Muras had a very good heart and wasn’t tainted by darkness. Had he really been under the control of darkness at one point?

“How old were you when you turned evil?” Forzen murmured.

“Twenty-nine.”

“Do you know how old Malefor was? It’s okay if you don’t, it was a thousand years ago, according to what Jaarsol told me about him.”

“Umm…” Muras stammered, wincing slightly before finishing slowly, “I… I believe he was twenty-five.”

Great, so I do have to worry about my twenties, Forzen thought, feeling his heart sink and his lungs get heavy. Spyro was twenty-three, Malefor was twenty-five, Muras was twenty-nine. Is it just our destiny to be tempted by darkness when we’re twenty? Is there something inside us that just… flips once we reach that stage of development? If this is what my destiny as a purple dragon is, I don’t want it.

“Forzen? What’s wrong?” Muras’ voice cut through his thoughts.

“Are we destined to turn evil in our twenties? Is there… something inside us that causes us to change once we hit that threshold? I know it’s eight years away, but I’m closer to my twenties than not. What if… what if I turn evil when I hit twenty? What if something in me just… snaps? Am I really a danger to Warfang? Maybe everyone is right. If every purple dragon is destined to go dark in their twenties, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t even be alive; I’m a monster… a demon.”

“No you are not,” Muras said sternly, making Forzen jump slightly at the ferocity behind his voice. “The way purple dragons work is our body is extra sensitive to both the forces of darkness and of light. I, as well as Spyro, and possibly even Malefor, had outside factors that contributed to our turning. Spyro and I shared the same one, actually: as children, we were thrown into the Well of Souls during the Night of Eternal Darkness, and faced exposure to a massive beam of darkness that our bodies absorbed—we both would have been about your age.

“However, it manifested inside our bodies in many different ways. For me, it made me crave violence and fighting. I did everything I could to be able to fight something, whether it was join a war, or hire criminals to do something bad so I could come in and fight them. Eventually it got so strong that I couldn’t control my violence. With Spyro, it created a second entity that lived inside him. It’s a cliché name, but everyone knew it as Dark Spyro. Spyro remained his pure self, but Dark Spyro would always try and tempt Spyro with negative thoughts. It came out when his negative emotions got the better of him: grief, rage, sorrow. I don’t… I don’t know how Malefor was inflicted, but I know he had the dark energy imparted into him as well.

“To my knowledge, you haven’t had any of that yet. Not one ounce of dark energy injected into you. You should be fine. As long as you avoid anything of that sort happening, you should be fine.”

Dark energy? Does that include…? No. I can’t ask him. He can’t know just how truly broken I am, Forzen thought. It was a curse, a spell. It wasn’t an injection of dark magic. Right?

No. It wasn’t. It was a curse, a spell put unto me to control me. Not to have me turn. I’m fine. I’m okay.

I won’t turn evil.

“I’m sorry if this has made you doubt, Forzen,” Muras murmured.

“Please don’t do that; I don’t need your pity,” Forzen scowled, before taking another bite of his pancakes; he hadn’t had any since the conversation started, and now they were starting to get cold. “You never told me how you managed school.”

“Oh, I uhh… it was fine,” Muras replied.

“Even with the legacy of Malefor looming over you?”

“I mean… yeah, I guess so. I was… never really that popular, but I never strived to be. I had just one friend outside of my adopted brother, and that was all I felt I needed. I was close to the guardians too. I was content in school. You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like for you, and I’m sorry for assuming. But if you ever want to talk or need help, you can always talk to me, or the guardians. Hopefully even the teachers are of help, but I know you aren’t believing that will happen.”

“Not at all.”

An uncomfortable silence washed over them as the conversation came to an abrupt end. Forzen downed his food, immediately standing up and making his way to the bathroom when he was done, not even giving a glance towards Muras. He got in and decided to run a quick warm bath to wake himself up, and to give himself a chance to relax before beginning the awful day that awaited him at school.

As he relaxed in the warm water, he sat there trying not to worry, knowing it would only make him more scared to go. He had to do it, he knew that. Worrying about what was going to happen was just going to make it harder for him to step out of the house and make his way to school. He hoped there would be some nice dragons his age that he could hopefully make acquaintances with, but he didn’t like his chances.

He knew from experience how cruel kids could be, even at a very, very young age. Being around a bunch of twelve-year-olds wouldn’t make matters any better. In fact, Forzen was sure it would be worse, considering they now were much larger and stronger than a mere three-year-old, had way better motor skills, and had much better control over their elements. He was expecting to be attack by much more elemental attacks than he had been earlier in life; none of the younglings in that cave had any clue how to use their elemental abilities.

Forzen was just thankful that nobody had… that element. That element was all but extinct, except for Cynder.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

With a large sigh, Forzen washed his face, before quickly scrubbing at the rest of his body, before getting out of the bath and draining it. He dried himself quickly, using his wind element to aid him, before making his way out of the bathroom and towards his room to grab his school gear.

Before long, Forzen was on his way to school, Muras walking alongside him to accompany him there, and to make sure he would be okay. Of course, being the first day, it was nerve-wracking, but the added pressure of the potential threat that would lurk around every corner was put onto Forzen’s shoulders. Muras understood that now.

Deep inside, Forzen was thankful that Muras was there to at least walk him to school. He lost count of all the dirty, hateful looks that were directed at him as they walked through the streets. One or two dragons said hi to Muras, but didn’t bother acknowledging Forzen, and even then, a brief ‘good morning’ was as far as it got for Muras. Forzen wasn’t sure if that was because he was there, or if there was also as much concern around Muras as there was with him; Muras was just much more well-known in Warfang, so no one acted on their fear of him.

How Forzen wished that day would come for him.

Eventually, they arrived at the school grounds, and Forzen found himself frozen as he stood in front of the front gates. “I guess I’ll see you this afternoon after school?” Muras murmured.

Forzen just said nothing as a shudder shook his form. Muras gave a sigh, wrapping his wing around the younger purple dragon. “I know you don’t want to go in there,” Muras said softly. “I hope it’ll all go well. I won’t be that person who just says ‘it’ll all be okay’. I know it’s not like that for you. I understand your fears now. But… please stick it out and give it a go. You know the guardians asked this of you if you wanted to live here. Plus, school will help you learn a lot more than I could ever teach you, and… it’s part of being a normal child. Normalcy was what you wanted, right?”

“Um… yeah, I guess,” Forzen gulped. “Is bullying and abuse in schools normal?”

“Uhhh… bullying sometimes, depending on the people; it is an unfortunate event that isn’t all that uncommon. Fighting can be fairly common too, but to the point of where it’d be classified ‘abuse’? I can’t say abuse is super common, sorry.”

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence, before Forzen let out a great sigh and walked forward, muttering a low goodbye to Muras. The young purple dragon didn’t look behind him or even pay attention to Muras; he didn’t want to know what the response was. All he wanted was to focus on school and nothing but school until he got home. He wanted to focus on surviving the social life here without getting attacked, and do well in classes, and get on all the teachers’ good sides. He didn’t want to cause trouble. He just wanted to learn. He wanted to do this for himself and the guardians.

Forzen was at least happy that Muras was willing to try and understand him, and wasn’t trying to promise false positives on him when they both knew it wasn’t going to happen. It was a start at least, and Forzen was really appreciative of it.

He tried to stay out of sight before school began. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He basically just sat in the corner of the courtyard by himself, watching how everyone else talked and interacted and played with each other. There were many dragons older than him; those his age appeared to be the youngest here at Warfang Academy. The oldest of the students probably would’ve been around eighteen or nineteen, but there were a higher amount of sixteen-year-olds at the school.

When the bell rang, everyone packed up and made their way to their lockers to get their books and gear for the first lesson. Forzen made his way over to his; he got a bit lost trying to find it again as he had only briefly been shown during the tour four days ago, but he got there eventually, and got all his maths gear out just in time to rush over to the classroom and begin class.

Phew, I’m not late for my very first class, Forzen thought.

There were a few murmurs when he stepped into the classroom, but everyone was already so engaged with each other that he mostly went under everyone’s radar. He found a seat in the back corner of the room and took it, making sure he was out of everyone’s vision, except the teacher’s—he knew this would be unavoidable, but he preferred only the teacher be able to see him rather than the whole class.

Eventually, a large ice dragon stepped into the room, speedwalking up towards the front of the classroom. This was the teacher, Forzen was sure of it.

“Alright, everyone be quiet!” the dragon boomed. “Roll call! Anagrol.”

“Present.”

“Apharia.”

“Present.”

Forzen blinked. This was way too familiar to him, as they had done occasional roll calls at Dark Peak for each of the kidnapped younglings cramped in the cave, probably so they could keep track of them all to make sure no one had escaped, and Forzen also assumed so they could assign names to faces so they could communicate which dragon they would take to corrupt next. At least the concept was familiar to him so he wasn’t too caught off guard when the teacher got to his name in the roll.

“Follin.”

“Present.”

“Forzen.”

“Present, sir.”

Damn it, I was the only one who said ‘sir’. Why did I have to be so proper and… stand out? No one else said ‘sir’! Forzen thought, looking around at the class awkwardly as a few raised eyebrows and confused glances were sent his way. Now everyone’s noticing me!

“Sir, huh? I like it,” the teacher scoffed with a slight smirk. “Master Tegliath, by the way. Welcome. Moving on! Fravlin.”

“Present.”

At least that nightmare’s over. Just get to teaching already, Forzen thought.

Master Tegliath made his way through the remainder of the roll call, before he began to teach. Forzen had no clue what to expect going into his first mathematics class, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so hard. He’d learned a little bit from Jaarsol, and Muras had even taught him a few things, but he had mainly spent his time learning how to read and write from both Jaarsol and Muras, so he didn’t have the strongest grasp on numbers and how they worked. He could do some basic addition and subtraction, knew a little bit about date and time, and he had barely touched on the concept of multiplication.

However, he was not expecting to see letters appearing in the equations that Master Tegliath was writing on the chalkboard; Forzen had assumed that maths was all about the numbers.

Just how far behind am I? Should I know all this stuff by now? the purple dragon thought.

It didn’t take long for him to realise that the letters were placeholders for unknown numbers, which put the equations in a bit more perspective, but the concept of then moving things around in an equation to find out what numbers the letters were confused him. He had never thought of equations this way before; he knew that two plus two was four and three times two was six, but he’d never seen it as two sides of an equals sign.

He was going to have a lot to catch up on.

Master Tegliath didn’t seem to mind him, so maybe Forzen could ask him for some extra help after class. He didn’t want to put his paw up and ask now; that would be putting way too much attention towards him, and it was embarrassing to be so behind. He would much rather try and understand what he could now and ask for help one-on-one with the teacher.

However, he didn’t know if that was normal to do at school. Was he allowed to ask for help? Everyone else seemed to be understanding what was going on so no one was currently asking for help. Or were there other students like him that were struggling but not wanting to speak up about it?

Before long, Master Tegliath was writing out some questions on the chalkboard for everyone to answer now that he had finished teaching the main concept. He wrote up ten exercise questions, going from easier to harder, with each of them requiring the students to find out an unknown number.

Wanting to at least show he was willing to put in the work and give it a go, Forzen attempted to answer the questions, but could only really provide answers for the first four. He had no idea if they were right or not, but he gave them his best effort. Questions five to seven were hard; he’d never seen those curvy lines—brackets, Master Tegliath had called them—before, and had no idea what to do with them. He also had never heard of division before; over the course of the lesson he had learned to do the inverse of an operation when moving something to the other side of the equation, knowing that addition became subtraction and multiplication became division, and vice versa for both, but he had no idea what that was.

Forzen spent so long on the questions before Master Tegliath had stood back up in front of the chalkboard from his desk, that he never got a chance to even look at questions eight to ten. As Master Tegliath took the class through the answers on the chalkboard, embarrassment washed over Forzen when he realised he didn’t even get questions three or four right. He only got two of the four questions he had fully answered right, leaving him with six more questions he hadn’t ended up with an answer to.

When Master Tegliath showed the answers and the working, Forzen was still lost. At least he was properly starting to understand now that everything in the brackets had to be done first, and that anything inside the brackets was multiplied by the number that was sitting next to the brackets if there was no operation symbol beside it. He was slowly understanding the concept of division too when Master Tegliath was going through the questions with the class; it was like a backwards multiplication.

But it was all so much for Forzen to try and wrap his head around at once. He was so behind that it felt almost unfair that he had to keep up with everyone in the class.

It didn’t take long before the class was over, and Master Tegliath had excused the classroom. Everyone was quick to leave the classroom, wanting to get out as soon as they could and then wander slowly to their next class. As the stream of students funneled through the door to the classroom, Forzen stayed behind to make sure he was the last to leave, mainly because he didn’t want to be seen out at the front of the pack, but also so he could stay behind and ask Master Tegliath for help.

“Excuse me, sir… u-u-uhh, Master Tegliath,” Forzen said softly once the last few students had left the classroom.

The ice dragon jumped slightly at the desk as he packed his own gear up, not expecting anyone to have stayed behind, his back facing the rest of the classroom. He turned around, blinking when he saw Forzen there. “I appreciate you calling me ‘sir’, but really, ‘Master Tegliath’ is perfectly fine,” the ice dragon said, appearing a little unsettled by talking to the young purple dragon one-on-one, but trying to hide his discomfort. “Forzen, was it? What’s wrong? You should probably go on to your next class so you’re not late.”

“I know, I’ll go soon but… I just have a question,” Forzen murmured. “Is there a time, maybe after school or something, where you could… I guess… help me with some of the concepts? I’ve… never really done much math as I never really went to school growing up so… I… didn’t really understand much of today.”

“Why didn’t you ask for help if you weren’t understanding things? That’s what us teachers are here for: we help teach the students.”

“I… I was embarrassed. And I didn’t want to bring too much attention to myself… you know, being purple and new and all that.”

Master Tegliath just nodded, as if he hadn’t really thought of that. “I guess that makes sense. We are aware of your situation after all; the principal was sure to let all the teachers you were going to have know a little bit about you so we were prepared and… not caught off guard by a sudden purple dragon being present,” he said with a shrug.

“I also didn’t want to slow the lesson down since… well… I don’t even really know much about stuff like division,” Forzen said, taking every piece of strength within himself to not get caught up about the fact that the principal had blabbed about him to all of his teachers, although at the same time, he understood why.

Master Tegliath nodded. “Well, I’ll see what I can do and I’ll let you know. I do have many other classes so I am a bit busy, and do also continue work once all the students leave for the day,” he explained. “I recommend you go talk to whoever’s taking care of you—Muras, I think it is—to help you with some of these concepts, but I’ll let you know if I have an afternoon after school free and we can spend maybe an hour or so going through some of these assumed knowledge concepts if that sounds alright.”

“I… yes, that sounds great. Thank you,” Forzen said with a small smile.

“Great. Anyway, we both have classes to get to. You better head off to your next class.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you!”

With that, Forzen turned and almost sprinted to his next class, which was literature. As he ran, he couldn’t help but think about the conversation he had just had with Master Tegliath. His unease around the young purple dragon was very noticeable, but Forzen was just glad he was willing to actually have a conversation and not try and be rude to him, even going so far as to potentially offer help to him.

Maybe the teachers weren’t so bad after all.

Maybe all his teachers being aware of his current situation being an escapee from Dark Peak and being under Muras’ care and having the guardians make him go to school was working to his advantage.

Maybe school wouldn’t be so bad.

Literature was a pretty chill class. It was basically free reading time, where all the students were just told to find a spot to sit and read the assigned reading they had for the term. It was a smaller novel called Siren’s Call , a romance story about a young dragon who fell in love with a dragoness with siren powers, who had used them against him to try and allure him towards destruction like a siren normally would, but they both ended up actually falling in love with each other. Forzen thought it was a bit weird and didn’t really like the sound of it, but knew he had to read it since it was a required reading for the subject.

So, he sat down and read it, beginning from the start. He was a few chapters behind the class, and with how slow Forzen was at reading, he knew it would take him quite a while to catch up. He was definitely going to have to take the book home and read it in his own time.

Playing catch up was going to be the death of him if every single class required him to do this.

He got through about three and a half chapters during the class, before Mistress Yorrine dismissed them to recess. Forzen was just happy he got to sit and take the book at his own pace without any interruption or struggle. He didn’t know what he thought of Mistress Yorrine; she sat at her desk doing her own work while everyone read, so he didn’t know what she thought of him either. The ice dragoness was easily the type of person who was into books, Forzen could tell, mainly due to the sophisticated way she talked and how her posture was; the fancy eyeglasses she wore added to that look too.

Recess was pretty uneventful. Forzen didn’t even feel comfortable going up to collect food from the food hall’s kitchen, so he sat in the very corner of the room, alone. He didn’t talk to anyone, and he didn’t even bother looking at anyone. To help pass the time, he had brought Siren’s Call with him to continue reading, as well as to get caught up on the book so that he was up to the same spot as most of the class was; it was the only bit of schoolwork so far that he felt he could actually do on his own, so he took comfort in that fact and wanted to make the most of it.

Due to the food hall being much more open, and having many, many more students occupying it, Forzen couldn’t help but periodically look around as he read, watching the many students both his age and older sneaking cautious, wary looks towards him. Forzen could tell they wanted to walk up to him and punch him, but by their expressions and body language, Forzen could tell they were too scared to, for fear that the ‘evil purple dragon’ would kill them in retaliation.

Forzen’s sound element allowed him to hear the murmurs of the students a few tables away or walking past his table, whether he wanted to or not. He was okay at controlling his sound element, but there were times, particularly when he was stressed, where the powers would start kicking in on their own and he was able to hear everything , unable to tune out the noise. It made reading hard, but still, Forzen persisted, wanting nothing more than to just do his schoolwork.

When recess was over, it was straight to the oval for physical education. Great, sports. Out in the open, competing against other students, Forzen thought. This is going to be hell.

The whole way there, it was almost like he was treading on eggshells. He was outside, nowhere to hide himself, and his bright purple scales gleamed brilliantly in the harsh sunlight shining down on them. He stood out .

Master Ploroth, a large fire dragon with a strong but lean build, was already on the oval waiting for them. “Hurry up, everyone! You know what I say: ‘on time is late and early is on time’, now get moving! All of you are already late!” he barked.

Forzen watched as the dragons he was following started to pick up their pace into an even jog, and so Forzen broke into a jog too, following behind them, not wanting to fall too far behind, and particularly not wanting to get in trouble with the teacher. He could tell already that Master Ploroth was not one that he was going to like.

Once everyone made their way towards Master Ploroth, stopping in front of him, the fire dragon immediately began the roll call. Forzen, from the back of the group, looked around and analysed his class. His heart sank when he saw Fjor’gand standing at the front directly in front of Master Ploroth.

Damn it, why does he have to be here? Forzen thought. Why is he in my class to begin with? He’s fifteen! He’s three years older than most of us. Did he get held back a few years or something?

“Forzen, are you deaf?” Master Plogoth’s booming voice bellowed.

He blinked, shrinking into himself. “Uhh… no, sir,” Forzen stammered.

“Answer your name when I call it out, dimwit. Are you here, Forzen?”

“Y-y-yes… Yes, I’m present.”

“Good. You’ll do well to pay attention in my class.”

Ancestors, that’s embarrassing, Forzen thought once Master Plogoth began to move onto the rest of the roll. Already in trouble and already called out in front of everyone.

Everyone’s looking at me!

Forzen shrunk into himself even further as he looked around, seeing several pairs of eyes glancing back at him occasionally. On the other side of the group, he could see Fjor’gand giving him the meanest grin he could muster. Forzen knew he wasn’t going to escape Fjor’gand’s bullying for the rest of the day.

“Alright! Now, to start off the day, I want everyone to do ten laps of the oval! I expect to see everyone finished in under ten minutes,” Master Plogoth said. “Alright, now go!”

To emphasise the ‘go’, Master Plogoth slammed his tail on the ground with a large thud, jolting everyone who wasn’t paying attention into action. Every student broke into a jog, making their way to the track and starting to run around it.

Forzen knew he would be pretty good at this; he had pretty decent stamina due to the long training sessions that Spyro had forced him to do, which Jaarsol had never liked but she had been forced to teach him for that long anyway. Even the sessions with Muras had been long and grueling. But, Forzen didn’t want to make himself look amazing or stand out. He just wanted to be normal, average, someone who didn’t stand out. The problem was, that would place him in amongst the large majority of the rest of the students, and he didn’t want to be among the largest group of students.

So, he purposefully fell back slightly, jogging slowly along the back of the back, knowing that he wouldn’t get called out for being incredible at this, and he wouldn’t be among eighty percent of the rest of the class.

This strategy didn’t help him much either, as when he finished his ten laps, Master Ploroth was not impressed. “Fjor’gand, good job. Margrith, a bit sloppy on lap eight but you did good. Ulvar, you can do better. Forzen, that was awful,” Master Ploroth said.

“Wait, what?” Forzen murmured.

“I’ve heard good things about your abilities from the principal and the guardians. I expected better from you. Be honest, were you holding back?”

“No! No, I wasn’t!” Forzen exclaimed, not realising how overly defensive he was becoming.

“Don’t lie to me, purple boy. I know when someone’s holding back when I see it.”

“I… yes, I was holding back.”

“Well don’t. I expect the best from everyone in this class, including you. And I don’t want a purple worm like you lying all lesson to me about what you’re capable of. Academics-wise you might be handicapped, but I know you have skill in the physical.”

“Sorry, Master Ploroth.”

“As punishment, ten more laps! Everyone!”

A chorus of groans and curses aimed at Forzen filled the air. “Twelve!” Master Ploroth snapped at the sound of the complaints. “Any more complaining or slacking and I’ll add more! Now go!”

His tail slammed the ground again.

With an internal sigh, Forzen joined the rest of the group in the jog, picking up the pace to something that would be a bit more natural for him. He was in the front seven students of the group, right behind Fjor’gand. The earth dragon in front of him turned back and scowled, shaking his head.

“What’s your deal, huh?” Fjor’gand spat. “Are you trying to wear us all down so you can attack us later? I know most of us have combat classes up next, so is that your goal? You going to try and kill us all in combat?”

“No, I would never,” Forzen replied, trying to appear as calm as possible. “Hurting anyone is the last thing I want to do.”

“I find that hard to believe, devil.”

Forzen wasn’t expecting the sudden earth missile that was sent his way. Adrenaline took over him and he bolted to the side, dodging the earth missile. However, another dragon was coming up beside him to overtake, and in the motion of dodging, Forzen had thrown himself into the poor ice dragon that was now being sent sprawling to the floor.

Meanwhile, Fjor’gand’s earth missile made contact with the leg of the fire dragoness running a few metres behind Forzen, causing her to stumble and fall as her leg gave way underneath her. This sent her crashing backwards into the larger group of dragons running, causing the majority of them to fall over like dominoes.

Frustration welled up in Forzen’s chest as he heard Fjor’gand’s nasty laugh fade away as he bolted away from him, several of the other dragons running past them. He slowly got up, turning around to offer the ice dragon he had collided with a paw up. The ice dragon just slapped Forzen’s paw away, before getting up himself and immediately continuing the run.

The purple dragon sighed sadly as he followed the ice dragon’s example, breaking into a jog again and completing the last of the twelve laps.

“Forzen, what in the hell was that?” Master Ploroth grumbled when the run was over.

“What, when Fjor’gand attacked me and I was forced to dodge? I didn’t intend to knock over another classmate, I promise.”

“I don’t care. I had planned to play some pawball today but I think a few more laps is required of everyone, am I right, Forzen?”

“Wait, why are you—?”

“The answer is ‘yes’, purple worm. Now, ten more laps. Go!”

As they started running, Fjor’gand passed him with a smug smirk and a low chuckle. He did that just to get me in trouble, knowing Master Ploroth would be on his side! Forzen thought. What a self-centred, deceitful, awful brat! And Master Ploroth is calling me evil for lying! I can tell this class is going to be an awful one.

Everyone spent the rest of the entire lesson running, as Master Ploroth had given them even more laps to run after their third set of laps, mainly because there wasn’t any time to start a proper game of pawball. Forzen spent the whole lesson hearing everyone muttering curses under their breath towards Forzen for making them do nothing but run laps, particularly since it was all punishment. It felt almost like Master Ploroth was trying to make everyone hate him; Forzen hated to admit it, but it was working.

The walk to the next class was just as awful. Throughout the course of the lesson, the students had slowly started to gain the confidence to start pushing Forzen around, particularly after Fjor’gand had decided he would be the first to antagonise and attack Forzen. It wasn’t too bad, just being heavy pushes and shoves as they walked past him, but Forzen had almost lost his balance several times, almost sending him slamming face-first into the pavement as they walked into the combat building where all of the arenas were.

Forzen was not looking forward to combat; Torialis had put Forzen into the intermediate combat class. Fighting was the last thing Forzen wanted to do in school, particularly at a more advanced level than normal. He was hoping he would get put into the lowest level of combat, considering he was new to the school, and that he wouldn’t have to put in so much effort, but now the expectations were already put pretty high with him being put into the intermediate classes, by one of the guardians too. He swore he was the only one here to be partially enlisted by the guardians and have them personally pick what level of combat class he was to go to.

There were four levels of combat classes: beginner, novice, intermediate, and expert, the latter of which was saved for much older, more experienced dragons in their very late teens, usually sixteen to eighteen. Forzen was placed pretty high in the ranks, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t even think he was that great of a fighter, since he hadn’t had much experience outside of training dummies and the few dark dragons he had fought upon his escape from Dark Peak. He didn’t want to change that either, as he knew that combat classes probably would involve many duels.

The last thing he wanted to do was fight a fellow dragon. He was only hoping that they would be fighting against dummies.

Luckily, that was the case, as Master Almai, a large earth dragon who actually used to be a member of the military up until ten years ago, had put each of them in pairs and made them work together to fight against a bunch of dummies. Unfortunately, instead of being shaped like apes, the dummies were shaped like dragons. Forzen was glad however that they wore the colouring of shadowclaws, meaning he could truly class them as a proper opponent; it made sense that they were learning to fight against other dragons since they were their enemy, but it was also way too dangerous to fight against actual shadowclaws conjured up in the ring. Forzen didn’t even know that it was possible to create these types of dummies in a dragon form until now.

Forzen had been paired up with an earth dragoness named Giaala, who didn’t seem too impressed to be in a pair with him. Luckily for him, she had sucked it up and gone with it, not wanting to cause a scene or get in trouble with Master Almai. However, when it was their turn to come up and step in the ring, Giaala walked close to him and threatened him under her breath. “I’m only in a pair with you because Master Almai asked us to be in a team. But I want nothing to do with you, so don’t expect me to come to your rescue if you get caught in a rough situation,” she whispered, before adding with a smirk, “Not that you’ll need it anyway, little purple devil.”

“Alright, Forzen and Giaala, you have three minutes to beat as many shadowclaw dummies as you can and survive,” Master Almai boomed, his voice thick and deep. “Giaala, remember your training. Forzen… I’m surprised Master Torialis put you here especially considering you’ve missed many of our lessons on how to fight these things. Good luck.”

“I should be fine. I know these creatures well,” he said with a small voice.

“Yeah, the little devil grew up with them!” Fjor’gand blurted out from the seating on the other side of the ring.

“Fjor’gand, that’s enough out of you!” Master Almai snapped. “I’m well aware of where he comes from.”

“So why are you letting him in the ring? What if he tries to kill Giaala in there?” another student, a lightning dragon, called out.

“ENOUGH!” Master Almai roared, slamming his paw down on the ground with a huge thud; Forzen swore he could feel the ground shake from the impact. “If all the guardians, as well as General Cynder , trust him enough to allow him to be at this school as my student, then I trust him. Now, my job is to sit here and teach, coach, and grow you. Your job is to listen and follow my instructions. I don’t want to be the harsh ex-military teacher but I will pass out punishment after punishment if any one of you insult one of my students and get in the way of me trying to teach him, do you understand that?”

“Yes, Master Almai,” a chorus of nervous voices echoed around the room.

“That goes for you too, Forzen. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you dare try to be sneaky and try to harm anyone behind my back—”

“I would never, Master Almai,” Forzen interrupted. “I will never harm another dragon. I’ve seen enough harm come to innocent dragons and I refuse to add to that.”

“But aren’t these dummies dragons? Aren’t the shadowclaws and venomfangs and all them dragons as well?” the lightning dragon from before asked.

“Fine, any dragon that isn’t affiliated with Spyro will not see harm come from me. Spyro and his Dark Army are the real enemies here,” Forzen clarified. “Now can we please start the fight? I don’t want to delay it any more than we have to; I just want to get in, do the match, and then get out.”

“Sounds good,” Master Almai replied. “Now, enter the ring you two.”

Forzen and Giaala exchanged a brief look at each other. Forzen noticed Giaala wore both hatred and concern, both towards him, on her face. He tried to appear neutral, but he knew his face was betraying his own fear. He was scared to fight. With a huff, Giaala turned and stomped into the ring, Forzen slowly following her. They both came to a stop on one side of the ring, staring into the middle of it where the dummies would soon emerge from. Giaala looked beside her at Forzen and gave another huff, before quickly speed-walking over to the other side of the ring to physically get away from him.

The purple dragon just shook his head with a sad sigh. He didn’t want to do this any more than Giaala did; he’d be much more comfortable if he was on his own, but that wasn’t the case. He just didn’t want to get in trouble with any teacher, let alone Master Almai, so he did what he had asked without question, even though he dreaded it in the back of his head.

At the very least, he could be thankful that Master Almai was on his side.

“Begin!” Master Almai boomed.

The moment the first three shadowclaw dummies manifested, they immediately leapt into action, all three of them lunging towards Forzen. He could faintly see two more appear and start attacking Giaala, but he was too focused on trying to protect himself that he had to briefly ignore his fighting partner.

Strong gales tore from his maw as he sent two of the shadowclaw dummies slamming into the near-invisible barrier that had now been erected around the ring. The third dummy knocked Forzen to the ground, pinning him down. With a loud roar, the dummy raised its wooden claws to rake them across Forzen’s chest, but the purple dragon was quick to let out a burst of lightning from his body, throwing the dummy off him as it writhed with heavy spasms. Forzen was quick to get up and sweep his tail around, knocking the first shadowclaw dummy down as it lunged towards him.

The second dummy was also rushing towards Forzen, but he whirled around and sent his tailblade straight through the straw that made the dummy’s chest area, feeling something shatter inside it.

Just as I thought, the essence crystals are in these dummies as well, Forzen thought. I wonder if the overloading trick will work on these dummies too.

Forzen pulled his tailblade free from the straw chest of the second dummy, causing it to slump to the ground dead, before whirling it around and slicing it across the face of the first one, which had now recovered. It cried out in pain, before Forzen jumped on top of it and bit down into its neck, letting lightning build up in his mouth before releasing it into the dummy’s form. It writhed violently for a few seconds, before its chest ruptured as the essence crystal burst and the lightning burst out of it, igniting the straw.

The purple dragon then dove to the side as the last remaining dummy lunged at him. It landed on all fours, before whirling around and lunging at Forzen again. A deafening sound-enhanced howl tore from his throat, knocking the dummy down to the ground as it clutched its ears.

In his peripheral vision, Forzen could see Giaala struggling against the two dummies that had attacked her at the start of the fight. He noticed them overpowering her, knocking her to the ground and starting to beat her face in.

Forzen bent down and picked up his opponent in his jaws by the neck, before lifting it up and hurling it towards Giaala’s attackers, knocking them off her. He then leapt at his last opponent and ripped its head off with ease—the dummies being made of straw made it easier for him to do that.

“Are you alright, Giaala?” Forzen asked.

“I can fend for myself!” Giaala snapped back.

“You’re my partner in this fight; we’re supposed to look out for each other and help each other,” Forzen replied as one of the dummies attacking Giaala launched itself at him, to which he used a bolt of lightning to send it flying back into the barrier wall. “Now I’ve never fought alongside anyone before but if I know this concept, you should be very familiar with it.”

“Can it, purple dragon. I’m perfectly fine.”

Giaala released a rapidfire shower of earth missiles at the other dummy that was now back on all fours. It staggered backwards as the earth missiles pierced its body, but it was mostly unfazed and leapt right back into action once Giaala’s attack ended. She summoned an earth pillar that shot up right in front of the dummy, sending it crashing into the thick rock and sliding to the ground, slightly concussed.

Meanwhile, the second dummy had stood up, now joined by two more dummies that had been summoned in, and all three of them attacked the pair of dragons. Forzen and Giaala both dodged the first two dummies that leapt at them, but the third one targeted Giaala. She hadn’t fully recovered from the first dodge, and was too slow to dodge the second attack, and so the dummy sent her sprawling to the ground.

Forzen rushed forward and clamped his jaws around the dummy’s tail before yanking it backwards, pulling the dummy off Giaala. He then thrust his claws through the soft straw and felt the crystal suspended inside the dummy’s body, crushing it.

Before he could realise what was going on, he felt dull wooden claws scraping down his back and a long straw tail sweep his feet out from underneath him, and he collapsed on the ground. Lying flat on his stomach, he tried to get up, but one of the dummies thrust his head into the ground, holding it firmly in place. He could feel a second dummy holding his tail and back limbs down, before the third one started beating at his back. Being dummies made of straw and wood, they were much less dangerous than a real dragon with teeth and claws, and less durable than a scale-clad dragon, but they still packed quite a heavy punch.

Forzen felt the dummy holding his head lift it into the air, before thrusting his face down into the ground again. As his head was raised, he briefly saw Giaala standing a few metres away, unoccupied by any opponents, just watching him.

“Help me please,” Forzen croaked, before his head was slammed into the ground again, the other dummy still going to town on his back; it was definitely badly bruised by now.

He was expecting some weight to be pulled off him due to an attack from Giaala, but nothing happened. His head was lifted up again; she was still standing there. Back into the ground his face went. For a fourth time, his head was lifted up, but Forzen was quick to move this time, knowing he had to be the one to help himself.

Forzen let lightning build up inside himself, before letting it out in a massive explosion, sending all three dummies flying into the air. He staggered to his paws, dazed and in pain from his looming concussion and his back. He gave a brief look at Giaala, her face defiant and firm, and Forzen knew that he was never going to receive her help.

He shook his head, before turning to look at the three dummies lying on the ground. He was prepared to lunge at them, before they suddenly disappeared.

“Three minutes is up!”

Master Almai’s booming voice signalled the end of the match, and Forzen took this chance to sit down and calm his breathing and adrenaline. A few moments later, Forzen noticed three red gems get dropped in front of him. He looked up and saw Master Almai standing there, having given him the gems, but the large earth dragon was looking past him at Giaala, a disapproving look on his face.

“What happened, Giaala?” Master Almai demanded.

“What do you mean? They were too hard to fight,” Giaala murmured.

“I know that. The whole point of this exercise is to practice fighting with a partner, you know that. We’ve been working towards this all term. I purposefully made these harder to fight on your own, because you’re supposed to work together as a team. Combat isn’t all about how you perform on your own, Giaala.”

“Forzen seemed to be fine on his own. I didn’t think I needed to do anything at the end. He had them all and was taking care of them.”

“Yeah, and ended up with a concussion and a badly bruised back because of it, something that in the field can seriously handicap you, and you won’t have red gems easily at your disposal or the ability to magically make the enemies disappear when it gets too hard. Forzen’s greatly skilled, I think everyone can see that, but even he was outnumbered. He had the right idea this whole match when he helped you out. Why couldn’t you return that?”

“I didn’t ask for his help.”

“What’s this about, huh? The fact that he’s a purple dragon? You heard what I said earlier. He is a fellow student of my class, and you are to treat him with respect. He is fighting on your side so I expect you to be looking out for him the same way he looked out for you. In a real fight, if he hadn't come to help you when you were knocked down, you probably would’ve been killed. There’s a good chance Forzen would have been killed too if those were three real shadowclaws. Those dummies are but a fraction of a shadowclaw’s real power, and this isn’t even getting to venomfangs or fearbringers, mind you.”

“Why are you training us like this anyway? This isn’t the military.”

“If this was, I would be much stricter on you right now. General Cynder does not exert this much grace when someone puts their fellow soldier in jeopardy.”

Forzen flinched at the mention of Cynder’s name, but stayed quiet as Master Almai continued to scold Giaala.

“This is intermediate combat, the level where we start to get serious. It never used to be this serious, but living in a time of such long-lasting war, we have to be serious about this. I’m not looking to make soldiers out of you; I’d probably be starting to look for those qualities in the expert class. But I do expect that you are able to hold your own and protect those that cannot protect themselves… so you can protect yourself. I don’t expect you in the front lines, but to be able to protect yourself and others when things get rough in the middle of a siege and you can’t run from a fight. Your stubbornness to protect your partner could have gotten him killed.”

“But he’s a—!”

“Right now, I don’t care who or what he is! Just now, he was your partner, fighting alongside you, not against you! He stuck his neck out for you to protect you! I expect that to be mutual! When it comes to life and death, I expect all petty grievances to be pushed aside, because in moments like that, they don’t matter. Right now, Forzen is on our side and he has given us no reason to resent him. If General Cynder and the guardians are willing to give him a chance, then so should we.”

Master Almai looked up and addressed the whole class. “Do you all understand that?” he growled.

Silence.

“I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!” Master Almai thundered with a heavy slam of his paw.

“Yes, Master Almai,” the class echoed in a nervous chorus.

“Thank you. I don’t care what happens outside of this class or even outside of the school grounds. But in my class, you will treat Forzen with respect, as I have just seen him go out of his way to protect someone he doesn’t even know, and someone who hated him. I get the feeling he would do the same for everyone else. Treat him with respect, and look out for him in team exercises like this. And I pray to the ancestors if there’s a time you find yourself in a real battle, fighting alongside Forzen, you do your damned best to put aside all your grievances and look out for him.”

An uncomfortable silence washed over the class. The large, intimidating earth dragon looked around the class, making sure to catch the eyes of each of his students, before he turned back to Forzen and Giaala.

“You two, back to your seats,” he said quietly, his voice deep but smooth as he spoke gently. “And Forzen, good job.”

“Thank you, Master Almai,” Forzen whispered as he stood and made his way back to the seats, limping slightly.

“Alright, Hargould and Thrazo, you two are up next. Same test, same dummies. Up you get, let’s go.”

Forzen made his way into the back corner of the room, sitting on the top row of seats and leaning against the wall as he watched the rest of the students come out into the ring and fight. He watched as they fought in tandem with their partners, looking out for each other the same way he had done for Giaala. He had looked out for her in his peripheral vision, noticed how many dummies had gone to attack her, and had tried to look out for his partner. It had hurt him when he realised near the end of the fight that she didn’t reciprocate the action, and never would.

He was thankful for Master Almai, speaking up for him like that, but at the same time, he wished he didn’t. It was embarrassing. Not only that, he knew everyone else would hate him for it. That was a very harsh scolding.

They had lunch next, a time of the day largely unsupervised by the teachers as they too had their own lunch break. He noticed there were maybe two or three teachers out in the food hall during recess, and knew it would probably be the same for lunch. If he got attacked, there was a good chance that the teachers wouldn’t see. And if they did, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t care. He had gotten lucky with Master Almai and Tegliath so far. He was unsure what Mistress Yorrine thought of him, and Master Ploroth definitely hated him; the way he picked on him and gave out punishments to the entire class to put an even bigger target on his back was clear as day.

Forzen was terrified to go to lunch.

Once the class was over, he followed the class at the back of the pack out towards the food hall. Much like in recess, he didn’t go over to the food table to get food. He just found a spot in the corner of the hall and sat by himself. His stomach rumbled in protest, but he knew he could last until dinner tonight. He’d been without food before.

“Hey.”

Forzen knew that voice; it was Fjor’gand. Holding in his sigh, he continued to look straight ahead, refusing to look beside him towards the fire dragon.

There was a sharp poke in his shoulder.

“Little devil, look at me.”

I will not give him the satisfaction he’s looking for, Forzen thought.

“Are you there, moras’tov?”

“Just go away, I’m not in the mood for this,” Forzen groaned.

“What are you in the mood for, moras’tov? Murder?” another voice piped up.

This finally got Forzen to look to his side, and felt his heart sink as he saw Fjor’gand with his whole gang standing in front of him. This better not be a frequent thing, Forzen thought.

“Absolutely not,” Forzen said, trying to keep his cool as to not agitate the gang. “That would be the last thing I would ever want to do. I don’t even like fighting.”

“You fought way too well in there for someone who hates fighting,” Fjor’gand said. “You’re hiding something from us.”

“I was raised in Dark Peak. I was forced to train and learn how to fight. It doesn’t mean I like doing it. The only thing I want to use my combat skills on are the very dragons that imprisoned me. The only dragon I want to use my combat skills even more than the Dark Army is that devil of a purple dragon that tarnished the legacy of all us future purple dragons. You’re calling the wrong purple dragon ‘devil’, I can assure you that, Fjor’gand.”

The earth dragon reached out and clawed Forzen’s face. The purple dragon just took it, feeling pain flare throughout his face as blood began to drip down his snout. “You don’t have the right to speak my name, moras’tov!” the earth dragon scowled. “Not after what you pulled during physical education and intermediate combat. Are you here to sabotage our classes and get us all into trouble?”

“What are you talking about? It’s obvious Master Ploroth was picking on me, and I did the right thing in combat today!”

Fjor’gand clawed Forzen across the face again. “You dare talk back to me?” he spat, his dark green eyes burning with rage. “You’re lowly scum that doesn’t deserve to be here! You don’t deserve to be amongst us, learning everything we’re learning, eating the same food we’re eating, talking to all of us like we’re equals! We are not equals! You’re a monster! A devil! You deserve to die! You deserve to go back to Dark Peak! You deserve to go down to hell!”

“You’re calling me the monster? You’re the one who’s attacking me!” Forzen murmured, shrinking in on himself.

He knew what was coming next.

“If you won’t take yourself back to hell, we’ll kill you and send you there ourselves!”

Before Forzen could try and dodge, Fjor’gand reached out and grabbed the back of Forzen’s head, slamming his face into the table at such incredible speed and strong force that it left an imprint of his head into the table. After about seven or eight impacts against the table, Forzen felt jaws against his nape, as one of Fjor’gand’s gang members bit down and pulled him off his seat, throwing him against the wall.

He barely had time to slide down to the ground as Fjor’gand and another gang member, another earth dragon, leapt forward and grabbed a firm hold of him, pinning him against the wall off the ground; only his tail touched the ground as it lay limply underneath him.

Pain seared through his shoulders as he felt earth missiles piercing through them, going in one side and out the other, sticking him to the wall. Both earth dragons continued to fire earth missiles at him, piercing through his paws, his wings, and the base of his tail. They then stood back, looking up at him with dark grins of satisfaction.

Forzen felt his blood soaking his scales, hearing it dripping down on the floor. His nose burned with pain as blood streamed down it and into his mouth, which was flooded with an overwhelming metallic taste. He opened one eye slightly, the other one unable to open, as both were so incredibly swollen and bruised from the impacts against the table.

As he looked around, he saw every student staring at the scene, each and everyone cheering and shouting for more blood to be spilled.

“Now, burn,” Fjor’gand growled.

The fire dragon in his posse opened his mouth, the back of his throat glowing an ominous orange as fire built up in his maw. Forzen closed his eyes, waiting for the horrible burning sensation of fire to overtake him.

But it never came.

“WHAT IN THE ANCESTORS’ GREAT NAMES IS GOING ON?!”

Three teachers and two of the kitchen staff had run up to the scene unfolding in the corner of the food hall, grabbing each of Forzen’s attackers and pulling them back; Forzen had no idea who any of the teachers were.

There was more angry shouting from the teachers, but Forzen couldn’t make out the words as his concussion claimed victory over him, sending him into the realm of unconsciousness.

“Oh, thank Aloelle, he’s waking up!”

Forzen opened his eyes to a blurry purple figure in front of him. “Muras?” Forzen croaked. “What happened?”

Forzen tried to sit up, but collapsed back to a lying position in the bed he was in as his head spun. “Forzen, slow down. Lie down,” Muras pleaded.

“You suffered a very heavy concussion,” a soft, feminine voice sounded from behind Muras, and when Forzen’s vision cleared, he saw a nurse standing behind Muras, a relieved look on her face. “Those students did quite a number on you.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Forzen coughed. “I expected it.”

“You can protect yourself, you know?” Muras said, breathing slowly to try and calm himself down. “There’s no need for this level of violence in school. This… this is beyond bullying.”

“I refuse to fight any dragon, even if they attack me first. I will not stoop so low to harming another dragon on purpose. I will not become the dragon that Spyro is.”

“Forzen, there’s a level where self-defense is important!”

“I. Will not. Fight another dragon.”

Muras stared at Forzen with disbelief, swallowing and shaking his head in worry. Forzen knew the older purple dragon had nothing more to say, and there was nothing he could do to convince him to implement self-defense. Even the nurse standing behind Muras looked pretty surprised.

“Look, I know I will have to do duels in combat class, I get that. And I’ll do it, for the class. But in moments like this? No way. I will not lay a claw on any dragon, regardless of how far they go, regardless of how much they hurt me and pull me apart. I’ve seen way too many dragons get pulled apart in Dark Peak. I will not contribute to that.”

A brief silence overtook the room, before the nurse broke it with a sigh. “You’re lucky it was mainly pierce wounds from earth missiles. They can be healed with red gems, and while the cuts on your face are deep, they can also be healed, although there is a very small chance they might scar,” she explained to him. “The concussion and bruising will last for a while. I want you to take the rest of the day, and tomorrow off school to recover. Come back on Marouday. Nurse’s orders. I’ll let the principal and your teachers know of your current state, as well as the incident that happened in the food hall.”

There was a sharp knock on the door to the school’s nursing room. The nurse turned and looked out the window, before nodding. The door opened, and Master Almai walked in. “Master Almai? What are you doing here?” Forzen croaked.

“I heard about what happened, and I am appalled to hear about it especially after the scolding I gave everyone in class,” the large earth dragon said. “I wanted to come in and make sure you’re okay.”

“With all due respect, I think the scolding was part of the reason why Fjor’gand and his gang attacked me.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Master Almai thought about that being a possibility.

“I take it you’re one of Forzen’s teachers?” Muras questioned.

“Yes. Master Almai,” the earth dragon said, turning to Muras and reaching out a paw, to which the older purple dragon took it and shook it firmly. “I’m his teacher for intermediate combat. You must be Muras, his primary caretaker?”

“I…” Muras started, before looking over at Forzen cautiously, noticing the way the younger purple dragon flinched at the word ‘caretaker’.

“Y-yes. He is,” Forzen eventually murmured, causing Muras’ eyes to widen in surprise.

“Well, I just want to apologise on behalf of the entire school for what happened today. To both of you,” Master Almai said softly. “What happened just now wasn’t right, and what happened in class today was unfair as well.”

“Enough with the pity party. You don’t really care for me; you can tell me what you really think of me,” Forzen snapped, looking up and seeing Master Almai almost recoil with shock at what he was saying. “I can take it. I’ve been hated and beaten all my life. What’s one more dragon that hates me in the long run?”

“Forzen… I’m not just saying it.”

“What you said in class was just to keep everyone in line and to make sure they abided by your rules, right? You said you didn’t care what happened outside of the classroom. So why the hell are you here?”

“I didn’t realise it would be this bad. Forzen, this isn’t petty grievances. It’s not even bullying. It’s full on assault,” Master Almai said carefully, before turning to Muras. “I hope this is all coming as a shock to you too, Muras.”

“I’ll admit, I was originally blind to the possibility of what might happen, but Forzen and I had a talk this morning that showed me just how bad the hatred could really get. I just… I didn’t expect it to be this intense so soon,” Muras murmured. “I was hoping I would get the chance to prepare myself to seeing Forzen end up like this, not to see it happen on day one.”

“I just… why didn’t you defend yourself, Forzen? You had every right to,” Master Almai questioned.

“You heard what I said in class today. I will never harm another dragon. When you’ve seen all that I’ve seen, I’m sure you would refuse to hurt anyone purposefully too, even if it was just a few scratches.”

“Forzen, I don’t know what horrors you’ve seen in Dark Peak, but just know I’ve seen some horrible stuff too. I was in the army up until ten years ago. I was one of the many corrupted by Naar’voth in Armageddon. I have experienced some awful things… I did some awful things under Naar’voth’s possession. So… I kind of understand you, at least a little bit.

“That’s why I left the army. It was getting too much for me, and I knew I would be of much better use being able to teach the next generation to fight for themselves and protect themselves in a time like now. I saw too many young dragons pass in my time in the army, both during the Dark War and in this current one. If I can pass on all my knowledge to help make sure the next generation can protect themselves, then I believe I’ll be making the best use out of my skills than I ever could in the army.

“But… not using self-defense? That’s crazy to me. You could have died there if the other teachers hadn’t stepped in. It’s not worth getting yourself mutilated trying to stand by that moral.”

“And if I fight back, then what?” Forzen challenged. “They’ll just see me as the enemy. They’ll see me as the devil they want me to be, because now I’m fighting back. That’s when they’ll come together and fight as a unit. Because now they’re fighting against me, rather than alongside me. They want me dead, the lot of them. So no, I will not fight back. I will not give them the devil they want me to be. Because I am not that. I am not the Dark Overlord, or the Dark Master, or the Dark anything. I am just a purple dragon, trying to survive. To be able to live here, the guardians said I must learn and be in the school. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Master Almai just stared at Forzen, before slowly nodding his head. “I understand,” he said softly. “Not fully, of course, but… I can see where you’re coming from. Not being a purple dragon myself, I don’t truly understand the hate and hardships that you have to go through. I’ve known Muras to be trustworthy for the last few years from General Cynder. There’s every reason for me to believe you are the same, particularly if you have Muras, the guardians, and General Cynder on your side.”

She’s hardly on my side, but believe what you will, Forzen thought, trying to hold back his scoff.

“I just… didn’t think the hate would truly be this bad,” Master Almai said.

“Think about it for a second. This is something I don’t like to talk about, but… I’m Spyro’s son,” Forzen explained.

“I know.”

“Think about it. I’m Spyro’s son.”

“They think you’re like him,” Master Almai murmured after a few seconds, his face going pale as it all clicked.

“That’s why the hate is so violent. That’s why I’m doing everything in my power not to provoke anyone, to do the right thing, to not fight back if I’m getting attacked, and to look out for my fellow classmates if they’re in trouble despite the fact that they despise me. I’m trying to be everything my devil of a father is not.”

Master Almai nodded slowly, letting out a sad sigh, before looking at the clock on the wall; the mechanical contraption was a recent invention made by the moles over the last five years, making the ability to tell time much easier. “Alright, I need to go to my next class. I… I wish you a good recovery, and I’ll see you back in class on Marouday,” Master Almai said. “And just know, I’m on your side, okay Forzen? I’ve got your back, even if I’m the only teacher who truly thinks that, who truly sees you for who you are, who really wants to see you flourish.”

“I want to believe that, I really do, but—”

“It’s true, whether you want to believe it or not. I’ll do my best to see if I can get the assault to stop; there’s no way I want that continuing in this school. No student deserves to feel unsafe. Even someone like you,” Master Almai said, before turning to Muras. “If there’s some time you and I can catch up later, I would like to speak with you. I have to go teach now, but let me know what times suit you and I can try and make time for it.”

“Alright, thanks Master Almai,” Muras said.

The large earth dragon just nodded, before he turned and left the nursing room. Muras turned back to Forzen, a sad look on his face. “Are you alright to stand and walk back home, or do you want me to carry you?” Muras asked. “I know it’ll be much comfier resting at home than in the school nursing room.”

“I… I think I can stand,” Forzen muttered, rolling over and doing his best to get off the bed. He set his paws down on the ground, managing to stand with shaky paws for a few seconds, before his legs gave way underneath him and he collapsed to the ground. Muras was quick to shove his large paw underneath Forzen to catch him.

“Nope, I’m carrying you,” Muras said firmly, before bending down and picking up Forzen gently by the nape, being careful not to agitate the half-healed bite wounds on it.

The older purple dragon placed his mentee gently on his back, before he turned and also made his way out of the nursing room, beginning the walk home.

Hopefully Marouday goes better than today, Forzen thought. I don’t think I could stand every day being like today, particularly the assault part.

Chapter Text

It was Xurday: Forzen’s third day at school. Luckily, there had been no more massive violent outbursts towards him since returning to school yesterday; the young purple dragon was unsure whether Fjor’gand had gotten in trouble for it or not, or if the teachers had told all the students at school not to start any fights with him, particularly considering how intensely violent the one on Glaenday had been.

Classes weren’t too particularly awful either. Physical education still sucked, and the literature lesson yesterday had once again been a free reading session. Maths was still hard, and while Forzen hadn’t had a time to meet up with Master Tegliath to get some extra help, he was finding a few concepts were a bit easier to grasp after yesterday and today’s lesson with him—the extra tutoring he had from Muras on his day off on Vielday helped too.

He’d had some new classes too, going into science, magic theory, and history. He wasn’t a huge fan of science and found it boring, and his teacher, an electric dragoness named Mistress Veela, didn’t particularly like him much either, also it was a lot more subtle than Master Ploroth.

Magic theory was… somewhat interesting, but Master Avorin seemed quite nervous about teaching much of this information with Forzen present; Master Avorin seemed more scared of Forzen than anything, which he supposed was a nice change from the hatred from some of the other teachers in the school—Master Ploroth and Mistress Veela weren’t the only ones to dislike him; in fact, he received quite a lot of hate from teachers that weren’t even teaching him as well, from just walking past them between classes or in the food hall.

Master Krygour, the history teacher, also seemed to have a heavy dislike for him, but it was mainly just dirty looks that Forzen received from him. He didn’t know what was going to come next, but he hoped that Master Krygour would keep everything to himself.

Really, the only teachers he’d met so far that seemed to not mind him were Master Tegliath and Master Almai. He was still unsure about Mistress Yorrine, but he wasn’t willing to walk up to her and talk to her. Master Almai particularly didn’t seem to have an issue with him, to the point where he visited him in the nursing room. Forzen didn’t know if that was normal or not, but it was very weird. The way he talked to him and tried to look out for him was very strange too. Why did Master Almai care so much about him?

He sighed, taking another bite of the apple pie that was on his lunch tray; he had finally decided to go up to the food counter and get some food, mainly after Muras pushed him to do so after coming home hungry yesterday. The dragon serving him his food was actually really nice, and Forzen realised it was actually one of the ones who had come to his aid on Glaenday when he was assaulted.

However, his sitting situation remained unchanged, as he sat alone at his own table, trying to stay as far from everyone else as possible. He sat at the same table he had been assaulted at, as there were no other tables that had no one sitting at it, and the school hadn’t bothered to remove it or try and fix the table. He sat on the other edge of the table, not wanting to sit directly at the large imprint of his face into the table, which was still slightly stained with blood. It was an awful look, and Forzen felt like it was almost a statement from the school, but he tried his best not to think about it or even look at the malformed table edge.

Recess and lunch were usually pretty slow and lonely, but at least he had some food to focus on this time to help him pass the break quickly, so he couldn’t be too upset about that. He had combat again after lunch, his first lesson with Master Almai since Glaenday, as he missed Vielday’s lesson and didn’t have one yesterday. He had no idea what to expect from the class, but was almost looking forward to it. It was good to have a teacher who had no negative bias towards him and wanted to see him do well. It felt unusual for Forzen, even though he knew that was probably the norm and that most students would have most teachers treating them this way, but when Forzen only had two teachers that treated him somewhat kindly, he knew he could at least be thankful for that.

After combat was history, and Forzen was very much not looking forward to it. Master Krygour had said that they were beginning a new unit today, which was about some of the past major wars that Warfang had experienced. Considering the current state of the world, as well as his current social standing, Forzen dreaded the conversations that would start up in the class.

Slowly, he finished his apple pie, before pushing the lunch tray away from him and leaning forward with a sigh. He looked up at the front of the lunch hall where a clock hung above the food counter—Muras had tried to teach Forzen on Vielday how to read a clock as well, but since it was quite hard for Forzen to wrap his head around, Muras just made Forzen memorise where the hands pointed at the important times of the day, like the start of each class, the lunch breaks, and the end of school. There were still quite a few minutes left of lunch break.

Time to sit here for like five or ten minutes, bored out of my mind, Forzen thought. I should have brought my book for literature to read, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to read ahead.

He slumped forward on the table with a sigh, letting out a yawn as he sat there waiting for time to pass and the bell to ring so he could get up and get to class. It didn’t take long before a loud clattering sound reached his ears, and he got up and looked around to try and see where the sound had come from; a few other dragons turned towards the sound too, but quickly went back to eating and hanging out with their friends.

Forzen had to suppress his groan when he saw Fjor’gand and his gang in the middle of the room, laughing loudly and making fun of the dragon sitting at the table they were standing at; Forzen couldn’t see who they were picking on as they all stood tall in front of the table, blocking his vision to see who was there. The purple dragon watched as Fjor’gand kicked something along the ground, causing another loud clattering noise. It was likely a lunch tray that he had grabbed from the person at the table and thrown onto the ground.

He could faintly hear some frustrated protests from Fjor’gand’s victim, but he couldn’t make out the words, particularly since Fjor’gand and his friends were laughing too loudly, not to mention the noise of every other conversation in the room drowned out the noise, making it hard to focus on one particular area. Forzen wished he had the ability to do that, but he wasn’t as in tune with his sound element as he needed to be to figure out how to do that.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind, and Forzen cursed himself at the thought of it.

I should stop it and help whoever they’re making fun of.

No. No, you should not, Forzen. You know what they did to you on Glaenday; what if they attack you again for walking up to them and trying to stop their fun?

It’s the right thing to do. It’s not right for anyone to be made fun of and have their food thrown to the ground.

They’ll just start bullying you, you dimwit. What will you do then? No one will come to aid you. You got lucky with those teachers and kitchen staff. You might not be so lucky today if they attack you and try and kill you.

They won’t.

How do you know that? You don’t know if they got in trouble for what they did.

Whoever this dragon is… they have a common enemy with me. It’s like what Master Almai said; we need to look out for each other.

Are you crazy?! You don’t even know said dragon! You can’t even see them! Besides, this isn’t combat class, nor is this even a fight you should be in! And what are you talking about, ‘enemy’? What happened to not wanting to harm another dragon.

Fjor’gand and his gang harming us kind of makes them enemies… in a much less important sense, but still. And besides, I never said I was going to attack them. I just want to get them to stop bullying this other dragon.

Alright, you do you. But you’re to blame if they, or anyone else, decides to hurt you, got it?

Forzen ignored his inner voice, trying to shut it out. This was probably a very, very stupid idea, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He would want someone to stand up for him; he knew if he wanted that, he had to reciprocate, even if he was the first one to stand up for someone.

Slowly and cautiously, Forzen stood up out of his seat, walking through the room to Fjor’gand and his gang. He could hear a few murmurs amongst some of the other students watching him walk towards his target.

“Oh ancestors, is he going to enact his revenge to what happened on Glaenday?”

“He’s going to kill them.”

“Ancestors, we’d better get out of here before it becomes a bloodbath.”

“Surely attacking them would get that monster kicked out.”

“This is scary.”

Am I really that scary? I am the one who’s scared, can’t they see that? Or are they too blind to the fact that a purple dragon is walking down the hall towards the very dragons that assaulted him and thinking that it’ll end in me trying to kill them?

I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?

“Hey, Fjor’gand.”

The earth dragon whirled around with shock, a mix of fear, surprise and confusion in his eyes. “What in the…?! What are you doing here, moras’tov? Can’t you see this is none of your business?” Fjor’gand snarled.

“I’m just looking out for a fellow victim of your bullying and rudeness,” Forzen said, trying to be as calm as he could be. “Please just leave this dragon alone.”

Now that he was up a bit closer to the table, Forzen looked through the bodies of Fjor’gand’s gang to see who was sitting at the table, and he had to try not to show the dread that hit his heart. Sitting in front of him, with sauce and chunks of meat dripping down his face, was a lean brown dragon, marking him as a null. The null dragon was sixteen years old, four years older than him.

There was no doubt about who this dragon was.

This was Du’ryal.

Okay this was an awful decision, I should have stayed at my spot, Forzen thought, his heart racing, but he tried his very hardest not to show his fear.

“You don’t get to order me around, moras’tov. Just because you’re special and purple does not mean you’re at the top of the food chain, got it?” Fjor’gand scowled, getting into Forzen’s face.

The purple dragon stepped back slightly, trying to get away from the savage glare that Fjor’gand was sending his way. He swallowed, trying to calm his breathing. “I’m not saying I am, Fjor’gand. I’m just trying to do the right thing. Bullying isn’t right. It doesn’t make you look strong or special. You might be at the top of the food chain, but just know that you’ll have further to fall once you really start to get yourself into trouble doing this,” Forzen said.

“You don’t know me!” Fjor’gand roared, spittle flying from his mouth into Forzen’s face. “Don’t you dare talk about me like you know who I am! You dare spit out these threats to my face and think you’re all high and mighty for it!”

“I can promise you, that’s not what I’m doing, Fjor’gand.”

“Did you not learn your lesson from Glaenday, moras’tov? You are not fit to speak my name, so wash it out of your cursed mouth, or I’ll do it for you. I’ll rip your tongue out and wash your mouth out with your own blood.”

“You know you’ll just get in trouble for it.”

“We didn’t get in trouble for what happened on Glaenday,” the fire dragon in Fjor’gand’s posse piped up. “What makes you think we’ll get in trouble for giving you what the devil deserves?”

“I’m sure no one would complain if you couldn’t speak. No one likes a smart mouth like you,” said the other earth dragon.

“Wait, what do you mean you didn’t get in trouble for Glaenday?” Forzen murmured.

“Exactly what we said! No one gave a damn what happened,” Fjor’gand replied with a dark smile, before he punched Forzen in the face.

Several cries of surprise filled the air as Forzen was sent crashing backwards into the table behind him, causing many students to get up from their spots and scurry away to a safe distance, not knowing what would happen next. The fight was now amongst everyone, not in the corner of the food hall where everyone could safely spectate.

Everyone was terrified of how Forzen would retaliate. But he would not give them an answer. He would not retaliate.

Forzen just stood up, before Fjor’gand immediately threw him back down to the ground by shoving him against the tables again. He felt his wing joint pop as it landed hard against one of the metal lunch trays, dislocating it. Before Forzen could recover, his face was punched yet again, before Fjor’gand spat a somewhat large boulder at his chest, winding him quite severely and making it hard to breathe as it shattered in a cloud of dust and rubble.

“That’ll show you to mess with me and get in my way,” Fjor’gand scowled. “Come on, guys, we’re done here.”

He turned and left, leading his gang with him. He turned to spit on Du’ryal as they walked past him. Du’ryal just groaned in disgust, wiping his face with a cloth. An ice dragon sitting next to Du’ryal reached out with a metal prosthetic arm and helped him clean the food off him.

“Thanks, Frozard. Ancestors, I hate those guys,” Du’ryal murmured under his breath.

With a groan, Forzen picked himself up off the table, wiping his snout free from the blood that was slowly dripping from his nose. He made his way over to Du’ryal and Frozard, his voice shaking slightly with the fear of talking to Du’ryal.

“Are… Are you two okay?” Forzen asked.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Du’ryal murmured. “Now get out of here, you purple monster.”

“What?”

“Go. Leave us alone. Find someone else to antagonise.”

“Antagonise? But I wasn’t—”

An ice shard tore from Frozard’s maw, embedding itself into Forzen’s shoulder. He staggered back with a cry of pain, before pulling the ice shard out of his shoulder with a small cry of pain.

“Frozard, I’m perfectly fine to stand up for myself,” Du’ryal said softly to his friend, but the ice dragon didn’t pay attention to him.

“Get out of here, devil,” Frozard scowled at Forzen.

The purple dragon blinked, before nodding slowly. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just wanted to help,” Forzen said softly, before turning and walking back to his corner of the food hall.

“We never asked for it!” Du’ryal called out behind Forzen.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Forzen thought, cursing himself at his stupidity. You just had to go and make things worse. You can’t even do good properly without upsetting others. Are you really capable of doing good? Maybe you truly are destined to be evil. It’s the path Malefor and Spyro have both set for you. It would just be easier to follow it.

He slammed his paws on his table, before lowering his head into his paws and digging his claws into his flesh, causing small beads of blood to run down the back of his head.

No. No, that’s not true. I will never be like Spyro. I will never be like Spyro.

He choked on his breath, trying to hold back a sob, trying to hold back the tears. “I will never be like him,” he whispered to himself with gritted teeth, his arms trembling and teeth gritted so hard that his jaw hurt.

The bell rang, and Forzen looked up at the clock. The time looked right; it was just how he memorised for the end of lunch. It was time for class with Master Almai. He just hoped he would take it easy on him today, particularly with his still dislocated wing. He tried to reach back to put it back in place, but he couldn’t reach his wing joint. Damn it, now I have to go the rest of the day with a dislocated wing, Forzen thought.

With a sigh, he got up and started to make his way to the classroom. As he walked, he saw Fjor’gand walk up beside him. “You better behave today, moras’tov. No spectacles that involve Master Almai giving us all a scolding, you hear?” the earth dragon scowled. “If you do, you’re dead.”

Before Forzen could even respond, Fjor’gand sped up into a small jog, making his way past Forzen and away from him. He just shook his head, knowing that this was to be expected. He wasn’t safe at school, he knew that. Everyone hated him and believed he was evil. There was no way he was going to get any respect from anyone—except for Master Almai and maybe Master Tegliath, but he had no idea why they were being so nice to him, particularly Master Almai.

As Forzen had thought on it longer, he would’ve expected Master Almai to be way more hateful towards him, having been in the military throughout the beginning of Spyro’s fall and experiencing all the horrors that he had done. Why did Master Almai not see Forzen the same way, being so very capable of so many horrible things?

He walked into the class, sitting in the back corner of the tiered seating in front of the training rings. He was one of the first few students into the classroom, and watched as all the other students walked in, took one glance at him sitting in the back corner, making sure they all crowded up in the far front corner to distance themselves as much as they could from him.

Master Almai was the last dragon to enter the room, stepping in and briefly locking eyes with Forzen. Forzen could see his expression lower into a sad frown, and so the purple dragon immediately pulled his eyes away from his teacher’s, not wanting to feel any pity from him.

Luckily, Master Almai didn’t seem to linger on it too much either, as he immediately began the roll call without any extra hesitation, before starting the lesson.

“Alright, everyone. Today, I think we’ll take our rounds solo and go for efficiency. I want to see just how quickly and cleanly you guys can individually defeat five enemies,” Master Almai explained.

“Master Almai, will they be as hard as the dummies you put us against on Glaenday?” a fire dragoness asked.

“No, Ifiera. Since you will be fighting by yourself, I will not make them as challenging. I still want to give you guys a challenge, so don’t expect it to be easy, but it should still be very possible for those of your experience and skill level,” Master Almai explained.

A chorus of relieved sighs went around the class. “Thank the ancestors, those things sucked on Glaenday,” a lightning dragon murmured.

“They were way too strong, it was ridiculous,” an earth dragoness agreed.

“That was why I had two of you together and was focusing on teamwork,” Master Almai explained. “And remember, this is intermediate combat. It’s quite a complex, difficult level of assessing your combat skills that can get pretty intense. It’s my job to challenge you. Be thankful you’re not an expert, or worse yet, in the military. Now that training is hard.”

“Oh yeah, you used to fight against real shadowclaws for practice, didn’t you?” an ice dragon piped up. “That’s actually so crazy!”

“We had to simulate real ones because in reality, we were going to fight hordes of genuinely real ones and had to prepare. But I digress; we have training to get to. Five enemies, as quick as you can, and as cleanly as you can. Don’t take your time trying to tear apart the enemy when one swift stroke could be all that you need to win. Focus on trying to get killing blows. On top of that, these dummies will have ink in them, replicating blood. As part of efficiency, make as little mess as possible. Sometimes, we want to avoid mess. Got it?”

“Yes, Master Almai,” the class responded.

“Great. Now who wants to go first?”

“I will!” a familiar voice shouted as a dark green paw shot up in the air.

“Alright, Fjor’gand. You’re up.”

Master Almai stepped aside as Fjor’gand got up and made his way towards the ring, chuckling under his breath. “I’ll show all you losers how this is really done,” he murmured under his breath; only a few dragons heard this, including Forzen.

Somehow, Master Almai hadn’t heard his remark.

Fjor’gand stood confidently in the ring, puffing his chest out proudly, before the energy barrier went up around the ring. “Alright, Fjor’gand. Five dummies coming your way. Begin,” Master Almai said.

The earth dragon burst into action the moment the five dummies materialised in front of him. Rushing forward, he leapt into the air and swung his clubbed tail around, slamming it into the head of one of the dummies and sending it flying sideways into two other dummies. He landed on the ground and immediately had to duck to dodge a tail swing up over his head as the fourth dummy tried to smack him in the head too.

He quickly got back to his paws and leapt backwards away from the fifth dummy trying to claw at him, and he clawed back, scoring some hits. Ink started to spray from the wounds as Fjor’gand clawed through the straw. He eventually clawed deep enough into the dummy to fit his paw into the wound, thrusting his claws in and pulling out the dark crystal inside, tossing it to the side. The dummy fell to the ground with a thud.

Fjor’gand then was tackled to the ground by two of the other dummies, raking their blunt wooden claws down his face and chest; they weren’t enough to cause serious damage, but blood was still drawn. With a low growl, Fjor’gand shot two earth missiles out of his maw, landing into the eyes of one of the dummies, causing it to cry out in pain and leap off him. Another earth missile shot out of his maw towards the second dummy pinning him to the ground; it slammed into its chest, causing ink to spill down it. It wasn’t deep enough to pierce the crystal in its chest though.

As it staggered off him, Fjor’gand picked himself up and tackled the second dummy to the ground, grabbing a hold of the end of the earth missile protruding from its chest, and pushing it further into its chest with all his might. More ink was pushed out of the dummy’s chest, before there was a crack and it lay still, purple mist rising from the wound.

There was a roar as a third dummy launched itself at him. Reacting quickly, Fjor’gand pulled the ink-stained earth missile out of his downed opponent’s chest and thrust it into the chest of his new attacker. The sharp piece of rock went all the way in due to the speed that the dummy had launched itself at Fjor’gand, and with a spray of ink and purple mist, it also fell silent.

Fjor’gand tossed the dummy into another one that was running towards him, sending it sprawling to the ground underneath the corpse. He then turned to the other dummy still standing, before narrowly dodging a bite that was aimed for his throat. He swung his clubbed tail around, slamming it into the dummy’s head and sending it staggering backwards, dizzy and its head swollen and dripping slightly with ink. He leapt forward to try and whack it in the head with his club again, but it dodged, sending his club slamming into the ground.

The earth dragon leapt forward and tackled the dummy, pinning it to the ground. Adrenaline filling him to the brim, he raised his clubbed tail and slammed it into the dummy’s head three times with such incredible force that it very much broke its face, deforming it and covering it with ink.

Forzen winced as he watched Fjor’gand do this; he knew it was very possible he would be in that situation, and being a bloody mess with a horrifically bashed-in face was not a spot Forzen wanted to be in. He was just glad it was the dummies in the ring and not him.

Fjor’gand was eventually pulled off the dummy by the other one, and it bit hard into his neck, throwing him to the ground. He grunted in pain as he landed flat on his back. Another earth missile shot out of his maw, catching the dummy in the throat as it soared towards him. It landed with a crash on the ground, allowing Fjor’gand time to get up. He watched as both dummies prepared to also get back up, but they were immediately stopped as Fjor’gand summoned two massive earth pillars out of the ground, impaling the dummies through their chests as purple mist began to spill from the entry and exit wounds.

“And that’s five; good work, Fjor’gand. That was three minutes and thirty-seven seconds: a pretty good speed,” Master Almai said from outside the ring.

“Thank you, Master Almai,” Fjor’gand said with a smirk.

“However, I also asked for clean kills. There’s quite a fair amount of ink on the ground. Not bad, though; could be worse. Could be better too. Three out of five for clean kills.”

“What? Not even a four or a four and a half?”

“Not even a four. Now sit back down.”

Forzen had to try not to smile as he watched Fjor’gand return to the seating, grumbling under his breath how unfair the criteria was. He sat back and watched as the rest of the class went through the ring, attempting the same task that Master Almai had given him. Most of them took a little longer than Fjor’gand to do the task, most of them over four minutes, and some up to five, and the majority of them only got three out of five for cleanliness; there was the occasional two, and even more occasional fours.

I don’t know if this is being cocky or not, but if anyone’s gonna get a five it’ll probably be me, Forzen thought. No one else is using my overloading method. To be fair, only lightning dragons would be able to do it, but none of them are even trying to do that. Maybe they don’t know it’s possible; after all, Muras looked pretty surprised when I did it.

“Alright, Forzen. You’re up!” Master Almai said.

The purple dragon blinked. He wasn’t expecting his turn to come so soon, but he supposed it was bound to happen this lesson. As he got up, he felt pain flare through his back. Ancestors, I forgot about my wing, he thought, wincing. I don’t want to draw attention to it in the middle of class, so I guess I’ve gotta stick this out with a dislocated wing.

It’s not the worst pain I’ve had, I’ll be fine.

Forzen caught sight of the concerned look that Master Almai was giving him; he was sure that Master Almai had noticed the dislocated wing, too. He opened his mouth to ask, “Forzen, are you—?”

“I’m doing this, okay?” Forzen interjected with a huff.

“I… okay,” Master Almai murmured, before bringing up the energy barrier around the ring once Forzen had stepped in. “Five dummies, as fast and as clean as you can. Begin.”

As Forzen had seen countless times in the last few minutes, the ring became populated by five dummies, ready to attack. He let out a loud shriek, sending all five of the dummies slamming into the back of the ring as deep indigo sound waves shot towards them. He leapt onto the first dummy, thrusting his claws into its neck and letting deadly waves of electricity pulse out of his claws and into its body. The dummy thrashed for a few seconds, before there was a loud shattering sound and a puff of purple mist from its neck, before it collapsed.

Without hesitation, Forzen jumped off the dummy and onto the second one, proceeding to follow the same process. A shatter and a cloud of purple mist later, the second dummy collapsed to the ground too.

Forzen was not so lucky when he tried to attack the third dummy. He leapt on top of it, but the other two dummies pulled him off, yanking him by both of his wings with incredible force. He cried out in pain as his dislocated wing was tugged on, but a new pain tore through his other wing as he landed on it, spraining it quite badly. The dummies jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground as he lay on his back, his wings splayed out uncomfortably underneath him.

Wanting to get them off him as quickly as possible, a massive gust of air tore from his maw, sending the two dummies flying into the air. Forzen hissed with pain as he rolled over, trying to get up to his paws, but he was knocked down again as the third dummy had recovered, running forward and punching him across the jaw, sending him collapsing to the ground again.

Another gale left his throat, the forceful winds throwing the dummy’s paws from underneath it as it landed on the ground with a thud. Now, Forzen was finally able to get back to all fours, leaping out of the way as the fourth dummy now lunged at him. Directing the elemental energy to his paws again, Forzen instead formed the lightning into large orbs, before throwing them at the remaining dummies. They shook with heavy tremors as the electricity coursed throughout their bodies, and Forzen used this to tackle the third one to the ground and slay it with the same method as the other two, shoving his claws in its neck and discharging large amounts of electricity into its body.

Three down, two to go.

He turned and lunged towards the fourth dummy, but it turned and swatted him out of the sky with its tail, sending him landing with a thud onto his stomach. All the air left his lungs, and he lay there on the ground, winded and groaning. He was brought back to his senses as he was punched in the face yet again. He saw the dummy’s fist lowering down on him again, but he reached out and bit down on it, instead directing the electricity to his teeth.

The dummy jolted and cried out as the lightning ran through its body, but it didn’t die from it. It was pretty badly hurt from it though, so Forzen took this time to slowly struggle to his paws and bite down on the dummy’s neck injecting more electricity through his teeth much closer to the vital parts of the body. The taste of the ink dripping into his mouth sickened him, but he much preferred it be ink than blood.

Forzen felt the dummy fall limp in his jaws, so spat it out and watched as it slumped to the ground, silent. He turned towards the last dummy, just in time to watch it launch itself at him. He just barely had the time to dodge, but not without getting some claws flashing across his chest, opening up some thin scratches that bled lightly.

The purple dragon whirled around and let out another screech with his sound element, watching as the dummy lowered itself to the ground, paws against its ears as it cried out in pain. He let the attack go on for a few more seconds, before rushing forward, punching the dummy in the head twice, before digging his claws into its neck and electrifying them one last time.

A shattering sound was heard, and with the purple mist that followed came silence. Forzen slowly stepped off the dummy, before the five dead dummies dissipated. He turned to Master Almai, who looked at him with wide eyes. “Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds, a killing move I’ve never seen, and the cleanest round we’ve had all day: five out of five,” he murmured.

Forzen shrunk in on himself, worried that he’d scared one of the only teachers who had gone out of their way to show any care for him. He looked around the room, seeing the rest of his classmates stare at him with awe and fear.

“Uhhh, thank you, Master Almai,” Forzen said softly, bowing his head slightly, before turning and walking out of the ring and towards his seat.

“Forzen!”

The purple dragon flinched as he reached the stairs to the tiered seating, suddenly wondering if he was in trouble. He turned around, looking cautiously at Master Almai with big, worried eyes.

“Calm down, Forzen. You’re not in trouble. You’re dismissed for today. Go to the nursing room and go get your wings checked out. They don’t look too good.”

“I… Thanks, Master Almai,” Forzen said with a nod.

“Who’s your next teacher?”

“Master Krygour, sir.”

“Alright. If you end up being late, let him know that I sent you to the nursing room and that they were doing what they needed to do. If he has a problem with it, he can come to me about it. Not to you. Got it?”

“Yes, understood.”

“Great, now go.”

With that, Forzen turned and made his way out of the classroom and out towards the nursing room. It was a bit awkward getting called out in front of the class like that, but he was at least glad he was going to get his wings checked out. Getting the dislocated wing pulled on had not been a fun experience, and the sprain in his other wing hurt immensely too.

He got to the nursing room and knocked on the door. “Come in!” he heard the nurse call from inside.

Forzen opened the door and stepped in, noticing the same ice dragoness from Glaenday in the room. The nurse turned to him and sighed. “Twice in one week, Forzen? What did they do this time?” she groaned.

“Nowhere near as bad as Glaenday, but… they dislocated my left wing. I just came from combat and the simulation match made it worse, and also sprained my right wing. Master Almai told me to come here to get them looked at,” Forzen explained.

The nurse gave a sigh before she stood and walked up to Forzen, gently touching his wings as she had a look at them. “Okay, the sprained wing isn’t too bad; it can be healed with red gems. I’ll have to set the dislocated wing and maybe give you a few red gems for that too, but it should be fine afterwards, maybe just a bit tender,” she said.

“Okay, that sounds good.”

“I’ll start with setting the dislocated wing.”

“Okay.”

Forzen winced as he felt a paw push down against his back and another paw grab a hold of his wing just above the joint. “Alright, I’ll set it on three. Nice deep breaths. One, two, three!”

CRACK!

The purple dragon couldn’t hold back his cry of pain, but the pain quickly subsided as his wing was put back in place; it felt way more natural to him now. He flexed his left wing softly, feeling it move the way it should.

He looked up, watching the nurse move towards her desk and pull out some red gems from her drawer. “Alright, here’s some red gems. I’ll break these over your wings and they should be fine in no time,” the nurse said.

It was always weird feeling the red gems work their magic on him; it was never something that he had experienced until that day where he had shown off his power to Cynder, Muras and the guardians. He still wasn’t sure if he liked it or not; it was warm and soothing but it was also ethereal and mystical. It almost felt unnatural, even though dragons had been connected to these gems since the dawn of time.

Eventually, it was done, and the nurse stood back. “Any pain?” she asked.

“Um… no, nothing’s hurting now,” Forzen replied.

“Good. Well I’d better let you head back to class. The next one is starting in about a minute, so you might as well get your stuff ready for your next class.”

“I will. Thank you.”

With that, Forzen turned and left, quickly making his way to his locker to grab his history stuff. By the time he got to class, everyone was already seated and ready to begin class. He tried to sneak in as quietly as he could, making his way to the back corner of the room, but Master Krygour had a keen eye.

“Forzen! You’re late. I’ve just marked off the roll,” Master Krygour scorned.

“I’m sorry, Master Krygour. I was in the nursing room after getting some injuries in combat,” Forzen explained, his voice small.

“Does it look like I care, little purple devil? You came in late and interrupted my class. You can stay in thirty minutes after school, got it?”

“Yes, Master Krygour.”

“Now sit down and pay attention,” Master Krygour growled, before turning and addressing the rest of the class, who were all trying to keep in their giggles as they watched the teacher tear into Forzen. “Now, as you all know, today we will be starting a new topic on war history. We will be looking at some of the biggest and most impactful wars in our known history, with three main ones in particular: the Dark War, the War of Blood and Bone, and the Sinister War.”

“The Dark War? But didn’t that only end twenty years ago?” a young fire dragoness asked.

“But it began about a thousand years ago, and it has been incredibly influential in the formation of our many current customs and practices, particularly the introduction of combat classes into the schooling system, as well as the current state of the guardianship program; the Dark War was the main thing that caused the newly formed guardianship program to truly evolve into what it has become now.

“Now, we will be looking at the major events of each of the wars, starting with the Dark War, since it’s the most relevant to us, particularly with the current war we are living through with the Dark Overlord Spyro, who was one of the most important people in the Dark War. However, no one is more important in this war than Malefor, who was the one who started the war.

“As you know, the Dark Master Malefor was born a thousand years ago. The guardians of his time were intrigued by him, having only heard of the phenomenon of the purple dragon before. They were curious, too curious, and taught him everything they knew, particularly once they found out he could wield all of their elements. They passed down every piece of knowledge they could give him, and they worshipped him.

“The power got to his head and he began to show the true colours of a purple dragon, previously unknown to the guardians of his kind. He grew lustful for power, killing everyone close to him: his friends, his family, and the guardians. It took many bloody battles to finally banish the devil to the Convexity dimension, and by then, he had done enough damage. The violence continued when Malefor realised he still had control over his army from the realm of Convexity, and so the war continued for a thousand years until he was revived, and then slain twenty years ago by the next purple devil to rise.”

Forzen felt his heart racing as Master Krygour spoke about Malefor. Yes, it was true that Malefor was truly evil, and Forzen hated the thought of Malefor as well, but the way Master Krygour spoke about him almost sounded like he was insinuating things about him , particularly regarding his comment about ‘the true colours of a purple dragon’.

He had never felt so uncomfortable, so unsafe, since moving to Warfang, even being in Cynder’s company. Here he was in school, a place that was supposed to be safe and where he could learn so many things that would help him later in life, only for his teacher to start indirectly spitting hate towards him. He didn’t know what the culture of this classroom would become with him being there. Would everyone else get in on the hate? Would Master Krygour encourage it? Would he incite violence towards him?

It almost felt more unsafe than Dark Peak. He knew Dark Peak was unsafe; he knew to expect it. Here? It was supposed to be safe. It felt worse feeling unsafe in a place where he was supposed to be safe, rather than feeling unsafe in a place he knew he would already be unsafe in.

Ancestors, I just want to leave. I don’t want to be in this class anymore, Forzen thought.

He couldn’t just leave, though. He knew he would get in trouble. He was already in trouble for being late. Forzen couldn’t handle the thought of being in any more trouble with Master Krygour.

“Now, to start things off, we’re going to start this topic learning about the start of the war. Unlike other wars, the Dark War did not have a very complicated start. It began simply: a purple dragon was born, taught all of our knowledge and skills, and then the demonspawn grew lustful for power and wanted to take the world and recreate it in his own image.

“He was in his late twenties when he committed to the cause, killing one of the guardians, as well as his mother. His father… he corrupted him, and turned him into a savage criminal that did unspeakable things, which later led to his execution. Meanwhile, Malefor continued to roam free, leading a war that would not end for another thousand years.”

“Wasn’t Spyro in his twenties when he decided to turn?” an ice dragon called out.

Master Krygour paused, not expecting the sudden question, but recovered quickly. “Yes. Yes, he was,” he replied.

“What about the demon sitting in the corner of the class? Will he turn evil too?”

All eyes turned to Forzen.

Get me out of here, NOW.

“Um… I’m not sure. Probably,” Master Krygour said bluntly, shrugging. “He’s Spyro’s son after all, so you never know. Like father, like son, as the saying always goes.”

“You don’t know that,” Forzen said.

“Besides, there’s been a pattern so far with Malefor and Spyro, so who knows, he could be next.”

“Yeah, who knows what that purple freak looking after him is teaching him,” an earth dragoness spat. “He could be teaching him all sorts of dark magic and rituals outside of school.”

“No, he’s helping me with my schoolwork and reading and writing. He’s helping me learn my elements as well but there’s absolutely no dark magic involved.”

“You expect us to believe that Malefor isn’t teaching you dark magic?” a fire dragoness scoffed. “Someone like that doesn’t just change; his story of ‘the ancestors purified me’ is a whole bunch of garbage.”

“Malefor? No, his name’s Muras. Malefor’s dead; there’s no way he could be teaching me or even walking around Warfang,” Forzen said, confused.

“Don’t play dumb, little devil. Don’t pretend you don’t know who your caretaker is,” another earth dragoness jeered.

“There is no way he can be Malefor!”

“You really don’t know, little devil?” Master Krygour asked, his voice both sly and surprised. “Well, let me give you a bit more of a recent history lesson about the Dark Master that we will be studying extensively about throughout this term: Malefor came back twelve years ago, claiming he was brought back from the dead by the ancestors, purified. For weeks, he hid his identity from everyone, lying every day about who he was and playing mind tricks like changing the colour of his scales. Eventually, Spyro brought the truth to light, and now he lives in his true colours, in shame. And now, if what you’re telling us is true, he’s spun his web of lies once more to make you believe that he is completely separate from Malefor.”

How can this be true? Did he really lie to me? About everything? Is he really that horrible monster that Jaarsol told me so much about? Forzen thought with a shiver, his heart thumping against his chest and sweat dripping down his face. What else is he hiding from me? How could he hide this from me? He said I’m his purpose and that his role is to mentor me—what if that’s to raise me in darkness? What if he’s still evil? Surely someone as horrid as Malefor doesn’t just change, right?

What do I do? Who do I go to? Who do I trust?

“Wow, you really didn’t know. That actually surprises me, little demon,” Master Krygour scoffed.

“Stop calling me that, please,” Forzen whimpered.

“Why not? It’s what you are, whether you like it or not,” a fire dragon spat. “It’s like Master Krygour said, there’s a pattern. You’re next in line. It’s bound to happen.”

“I don’t know why they’re letting a freak like you run free,” an earth dragon growled.

“It’s because Malefor’s involved; he probably convinced the guardians to keep him around and let him come here. There’s no way the guardians would want to upset Malefor; he could destroy Warfang in one blow if he wanted to,” an ice dragoness said.

“Stop it, please! I’m not evil!” Forzen pleaded.

“Do you know that? Do you truly, deep inside your soul, know that?” Master Krygour said lowly. “Speak, moras’tov.”

“STOP IT!”

The class became full of screams and young teenagers scattering as Forzen broke into a sprint, thinking he was going to kill them. He just wanted to get out. He sprinted straight out of the classroom, his heart racing a million miles an hour as he ran outside of the building and flew up into the air. He flew across Warfang, before he saw the top of the library and landed on top of the large building.

The building stood tall over Warfang, being the second tallest building in the city besides the Warfang Temple, allowing him a beautiful, wide view of the city. He watched as the streets crawled with dragons of different shapes and sizes and colours: reds, yellows, blues, greens…

No purple. Aside from Muras, he was the only one.

Or was it Malefor? How true were Master Krygour’s claims? How true was the rest of the lesson? The problem was that after what had just happened, he didn’t know if he could trust Muras enough to ask . He didn’t know if he was safe around Muras. For someone who used to be a genocidal maniac skilled in dark magic who led a thousand-year war, Muras suddenly didn’t seem trustworthy or safe to be around any more.

I feel so lost… so alone. Even Muras is hiding stuff from me… and something as important as that, too.

Ancestors help me.

Help me, please…

Chapter Text

It was later that day, around four o’clock in the afternoon. Muras’ mind ran nonstop, trying to think of what Master Almai might want to talk to him about. He had sent an urgent letter to him to come and visit him in his office this afternoon. Muras just hoped that Forzen wasn’t in trouble for anything. He had done everything he could to leave work early so he could get there as soon as he could; Master Almai had just told him anytime this afternoon was fine, so Muras wanted to get there as early as possible once school was finished.

The school grounds were almost completely empty when he got there, the majority of the students having gone home. That was pretty normal; everyone was quick to vacate the school grounds back when he was in school, too. There was no reason to stick around at school any longer than was necessary.

He made his way through the school, trying to remember where all the offices were from the school tour last week. Eventually, he came across another teacher walking down the hall back to their office. “Excuse me!” he called out.

The teacher let out a small yelp as she whirled around, not expecting the sudden shout, from Muras no less. “U-uhhh, Muras. What can I do for you?” she stammered.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Master Almai’s office; would you be able to show me to it?” Muras asked.

“Um… sure, I guess. I-I-I can do that.”

The teacher led him down the halls, stopping when they had arrived. She then quickly walked back down the hall as fast as she could. Muras shook his head with a sad sigh, before turning towards the door he now stood in front of. ‘Almai Veogol, Intermediate and Expert Combat Teacher’, the door read.

Raising his fist to the door, Muras knocked on it. “Come in,” came Master Almai’s voice from inside.

Muras slowly opened the door, looking inside to see Master Almai sitting at his desk. He looked up, pushing some paperwork aside as he realised who was standing in the doorway. “Oh, Muras! Great to see you. Please, take a seat,” the earth dragon said.

“Is something wrong with Forzen?” Muras asked as he walked forward and sat down across the desk from Master Almai. “Is he in trouble?”

“No, he’s not in trouble. I’m just concerned for him. He walked into my class this afternoon with a dislocated wing that I am almost certain came from a fight during lunch,” Master Almai explained.

Muras groaned, bringing his paws to his head and rubbing his temples. “Was it bad?” he asked.

“I don’t know. If he was in pain, he did a very good job of hiding it. I almost told him he didn’t have to do a match in the ring, but he told me he was doing it before I could properly start my sentence. I do think the fight made it worse though; some of the dummies ended up pulling at his wings, and he then sprained his other wing later on in the fight. I sent him to the nursing room afterwards.

“But anyway, I decided to call you here because I thought it would be good to try and figure out how we could help him be a bit more diligent in protecting himself and not letting himself constantly get hurt.”

“How, though? He won’t attack another dragon; you heard him yourself in that nursing room,” Muras challenged.

“He doesn’t have to cause any harm to them,” Master Almai clarified. “I think he just takes the attacks, judging off what I know of him so far. I want to see if we can maybe get him used to physically protecting himself when he does get attacked, just to minimise the chances of him getting assaulted. A push or a shove here and there, actually trying to dodge attacks. I’ve seen him fight in the ring, Muras; from what I’ve seen, there’s no reason for him to be coming out of a high school fight with a broken wing, and especially not the state he was in on Glaenday.

“Now, I probably don’t have the margin to do that myself, but I know you’ve been doing extra training sessions with him outside of school more specific to his elements. Do you think you’d be able to get in the ring with him and maybe try and help him work on his defenses against real dragons? Real dragons that he doesn’t want to hurt but that want to hurt him.”

“Do I have to be the one to do it? I kind of don’t think it’s fair on him if he has to protect himself against a much larger adult dragon,” Muras murmured. “I don’t want to just put himself on the spot like that, too.”

“Firstly, it’s combat and defense training. You have to put the student on the spot if you want them to learn from it. You can’t teach someone in combat and defense if they don’t feel threatened or uncomfortable. I’m putting all my other students through that, too.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I know because I lived through it. My father was in the military, I also went through intermediate combat in school, and then I joined the military. I’ve been raised in this way my whole life. Ultimately, particularly in our current war, that style of training was the only reason I survived. I faced death way too many times in my years in the army. I watched as many of my best friends were killed by Spyro’s dark forces. Even Malefor’s forces.”

“I… I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, he needs to know what it’s like when an adult attacks him, because I’m sure there’ll come a day when an adult attacks him.”

“It’s already come and gone.”

“Excuse me?” Master Almai exclaimed, leaning forward with wide eyes.

“It… It was his fourth day in Warfang, the same day as our tour of the school. I never saw what started the riot, but if Cynder’s brother hadn’t have gotten involved, I’m very sure Forzen would be dead. He was covered in blood, burns covering his body, his wings broken. From what Aerus told me, he had completely given up trying to get out. He had accepted death. I don’t know if he had tried to get away at first, but I think that might be why he doesn’t defend himself anymore, because I agree with you, I don’t think he’s trying to defend himself either. I think he’s still in the mindset of accepting the abuse from everyone who hates him.”

Master Almai shook his head sadly, scratching his forehead. “With the kids here in school… it’s all learned hatred. Sure, we still have attacks from Dark Peak and Spyro is very much at large, but most of the students we have here, particularly those Forzen’s age, will not have seen the worst of Spyro. None of the children here were around when you… when Malefor was at large. All the adults, though? It’s far from learned hatred; it’s hatred from experience. They lived through all those things. It’s only a matter of time before they attack him again, the same way all those dragons attacked you when Spyro revealed your identity to Warfang.”

“Yeah… yeah I guess that’s true,” Muras murmured. “I don’t know, I worry for Forzen… a lot. I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know what I can do to make everyone feel more comfortable around him. I know even after twelve years everyone is still wary of me, but I don’t have to worry about being beaten in the streets at random, and I’ve been able to get a job, have a house, and live somewhat comfortably. I know many still hate me, but they tolerate me enough to not really care about me. I don’t know how to make people see Forzen that way. It took twelve years to get to this point; I don’t want Forzen to have to wait twelve years to get to this point, possibly more considering he’s probably got it worse than I had when I returned here.”

“I guess some questions are never easily answered,” Master Almai sighed sadly. “But rest be assured that I will do the best I can to ensure that he’s safe in these school grounds. I can’t speak for the rest of Warfang, but as long as he’s on campus, I want him to be able to walk around safely, go to each of his classes, and not feel constantly threatened.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate your help with all this, Master Almai,” Muras said with a small smile. “Is… there anything else you want to talk about regarding Forzen?”

“It wasn’t on my mind until now, but today he did display a pretty impressive control over his powers during combat class today, even making use of a killing technique for the straw shadowclaw dummies that I’ve never seen before. I know you’re doing some training with him as well; has he shown you this as well?”

“Yes, it was in one of our first training sessions, shortly after he first unlocked his lightning element. He asked to demonstrate it, and so… well, I hesitantly allowed him.”

“Hesitantly? Surely you knew of his combat prowess; what was there to worry about?”

“Well… until you mentioned straw shadowclaw dummies, I never thought to make those…”

“You put him against a real shadowclaw?! Are you insane?!”

“He assured me he could do it, and I’ll be honest, he did a spectacular job. I don’t plan to put him against real dark dragons for the near future, but I at least know he can hold his own against one of them.”

“Wait, you’re telling me he actually killed a shadowclaw?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Why the hell isn’t he in expert combat then? Ancestors, that’s incredible! I know he has large amounts of skill in combat but I wasn’t expecting that from him!”

“Torialis specifically wanted him to be in intermediate. He didn’t want too much attention and stress to be forced upon Forzen, and he didn’t think it would be fair to throw him in such an intense class when he knows none of the students and teachers here, and doesn’t even know anything about the schooling system. I’d even suggested putting him in novice combat while he got used to everything and everyone, but Torialis had said that also would’ve been a disservice to Forzen, which thinking over it again I think I’d agree with him.”

“Yeah, I see your point. At some point I’d love to see him up in expert combat with me, but until he’s ready, I’ll make sure he’s thriving the best he can in intermediate. He’s incredibly gifted with his elements; he has quite a lot of control over them. You’ve taught him well.”

“I’ll be honest, lightning’s the only one I taught him, and that overloading kill move he did on the shadowclaws was something he picked up from slaves at Dark Peak. I haven’t bothered trying to tackle sound, as I’ll need to do a bit of research on it first since I can’t use it, and since Cynder wields wind, the guardians want her to train him in the wind element.”

“Okay, I don’t like that decision at all,” Master Almai said, concern edging his voice. “After years of training under Cynder, as well as the new hatred I hear she seems to have towards Forzen, I’m scared for what she will put him through.”

“I will aim to be there to make sure as much as I can to make sure she doesn’t go overboard, trust me,” Muras said firmly.

“Good. You know how relentless she can be.”

“I do… way too well. I made her that way, after all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

An uncomfortable silence set down between the two dragons. Muras became lost in thought, trying not to let his brain conjure up all the horrible possibilities that could happen with Cynder training Forzen. She was already pretty abusive in that first session where she made Forzen demonstrate his elemental capabilities to the guardians, putting him against conjurations of real dragons, before showing no restraint or empathy towards him, and finally strapping him to the power reader, which ended up setting off a pretty full-on trauma response.

He tried not to let himself think about how abusive Cynder might be towards Forzen in their training sessions, what unfair matches she would put him in, and how unrelenting she would be.

I need to be there to make sure she doesn’t do anything horrible.

“Anyway, there’s one more thing I want to ask you about. It’s not really got anything to do with Forzen’s schooling, and it’s only a thought I’ve just now had,” Master Almai said, cutting through the silence and pulling Muras from his thoughts.

“Um… yeah, ask away,” Muras said.

“I thought I should ask… have you told Forzen who you really are?”

Muras faltered at the question. “As in… that I’m Malefor? Uh… no. No, I haven’t. He doesn’t know,” Muras replied.

“I know this is asking a lot of you, and I really don’t want to pry into your personal life and your relationship with Forzen, but I really think you should tell him. He deserves to know.”

“But… I can’t do that to him. If he found out who I really was… that I was another purple dragon that ruined our legacy and made everyone hate him… it would break him. It would destroy his trust in me.”

“Any more than it would if he found out another way? It’s bound to happen, particularly with the way the other kids are treating him. What would be worse: you going up to him, admitting you were hiding something from him, sitting him down and telling him gently, and in a way that you can control it, or a random kid rocking up and telling him, in a way that would probably be very biased and inaccurate, and find out that way that you’ve been hiding this from him? He’d lose more trust in you the second way.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“He deserves to know, Muras. And like I said, if you get in first to tell him, it means you get control over the situation. Not some random kid.”

“I… okay. I’ll do it,” Muras murmured nervously after a deep breath.

“I know it’s a big ask, but it’ll benefit the both of you in the long run; I’m glad to hear it. Sooner than later would be best. Tonight would be great, if that’s possible.”

“I’ll see how it goes, but I could try tonight.”

“Alright, I think that’s pretty much everything I wanted to talk to you about,” Master Almai said with a soft smile. “I hope we can meet again in better conditions next time.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the chat, and thank you for keeping an eye out on Forzen,” Muras replied, standing up.

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. The kid deserves it.”

Muras turned and began to walk out the door, before almost colliding with a thinly built but tall ice dragon. He leapt back at the sight of Muras, letting out a small yelp. “Oh, I’m sorry!” Muras apologised frantically, feeling awkward for scaring the dragon, who appeared to also be a teacher.

“Ah, Master Krygour!” Master Almai said from in his office, walking towards the door and seeing the history teacher standing a few steps away, trying to calm his breath as he looked cautiously at Muras. “I was meaning to ask, did Forzen make it back to your class okay after his trip to the nursing room?”

“Uh… yeah, he made it back. His presence was… a bit disrupting, mind you,” Master Krygour replied.

“Disrupting? He didn’t cause any trouble, did he?” Muras asked.

“It was more the other students didn’t like him around. I… I tried to calm them down but they kept insulting the poor boy. Didn’t help we were beginning our unit on the Dark War, too,” Master Krygour explained.

“Wait, unit on the Dark War?” Muras queried. “That’s taught here now?”

“I mean it began a thousand years ago; it’s very much part of history. It was just unfortunate that we had to start looking into the corrupt purple dragons, which I think gave the class the urge to turn on the little de—the little purple dragon.”

“Okay, what was that you were about to say?” Master Almai challenged, picking up on Master Krygour’s speedy correction.

“What was what?”

“I’m not stupid, Krygour. Spit it out. You were about to call Forzen a devil, weren’t you?”

“Come on, it’s all I’ve been hearing from the class today; it hasn’t been easy to get out of my head.”

“It wouldn’t be that hard if you didn’t believe it. You hate him too, don’t you?”

“Almai, you’re looking way too far into this, I promise you.”

“The truth, Krygour,” Master Almai snapped, slamming his paw on the ground.

Master Krygour jumped at the sudden loud thud and the heavy tone in Master Almai’s voice. Even Muras jumped, being so caught off guard by Master Almai’s sudden demeanour change.

“Almai, there’s no need for this. There’s no need to scold me like I’m some child,” Master Krygour stammered. “I tried to stop everything and get back to teaching, I swear!”

“Has anyone told you you’re a bad liar, Krygour? I’m usually pretty good at seeing through people but you’re just making it plain easy,” Master Almai shot back.

“Why do you care so much about this?”

“Because Forzen is one of my students too, and I have vowed to make sure all my students are safe when they’re in these school grounds. If I find out you incited any hate towards him, I’ll be talking to Hyrath about you.”

“All your students? They’re all in danger with a purple dragon wandering the school halls. What if he hurts them?”

“From my view, the only one who seems to be getting hurt is Forzen. My other students are perfectly fine. Unless I am given an explicit reason to push Forzen out, I will advocate for his safety. Now, what happened in that class?”

“You’re not required to know everything that happens in my class. I don’t have to tell you. Particularly not with him around,” Master Krygour spat, gesturing towards Muras.

Master Almai shot forward, grabbing the thin ice dragon and pinning him against the wall, pushing down against his smaller form with every bit of power the strong, burly earth dragon could muster.

“So now the mask is dropped. I see your hatred for purple dragons, it’s clear as day. I may not have known you well since I started working here, but I never thought you to be a bigot. How wrong my judgement was,” Master Almai growled. “Now, tell me what happened in your class. Is Forzen okay?”

“He… he ran out of class,” Master Krygour croaked, wincing as pain flared through his body from the intense pressure that the other teacher was exerting on him. “I don’t know how he is, but he damn near scared half the class to death when he made a mad rush across the room towards the door.”

“And what happened to have made him do that? That’s not like him; he only ever seems to run out when he is extremely upset by something, which in the time I’ve known him for, has only happened once,” Muras said.

“How am I supposed to know? I’m not in that worm’s head.”

“What was said that made him react that way?” Master Almai growled, increasing his pressure on Master Krygour and causing him to cry out in pain.

“I-I-I don’t know, I was just talking about Malefor’s descent into darkness and the start of the Dark War!”

Master Almai slapped Master Krygour across the face. “That’s a load of grublin dung and you know it!” the earth dragon snarled. “It’s obvious you’re trying to protect yourself now that your true nature’s been revealed!”

“What were you saying about me?” Muras questioned, his tone suddenly very serious.

“Just about how you let your ‘impressive’ powers got to your head and how you showed the true colours of your kind, growing lustful for power and taking the lives of everyone around you, including your family,” Master Krygour snarled back through gritted teeth, hatred dripping from his voice.

“You dare get my family involved in these lies of yours?” the purple dragon challenged, stepping closer and getting equally into Master Krygour’s personal space as Master Almai was.

“Lies? You dare to pass off your crimes as lies? Everyone knows what you did! Everyone knows how you killed your mother and corrupted your father, turning him into a sick, twisted agent of darkness. Everyone knows how you tortured your brother so much you brought him to suicide!”

A lightning infused fist slammed into Master Krygour’s face as an angry howl burst from Muras’ jaws, tears brimming his eyes. “HEY!” Master Almai shouted, raising a wing between Muras and the other teacher before Muras could throw another punch at Master Krygour. “Starting a fight is the last thing we need; calm yourself, Muras.”

“But he’s teaching them misinformation, and pushing onto Forzen that our ‘true colours’ are murderous and twisted! This isn’t right! Yes, my family died after my corruption, but they didn’t die at my paws! Yes, I grew lustful for power, but—”

“But what?” Master Krygour coughed. “Why does it matter if those things happened regardless of the specifics?”

“Shame on you, Krygour. I thought you prided yourself in being a history teacher and getting caught up in accuracy. This is nothing but bigotry and your own personal hatred, and a lack of understanding,” Master Almai scolded, before turning to Muras. “Yes, I admit that for many decades the false truth may have been taught, but no one knew any better, since there were no records of what really happened. Perhaps you might be able to shed light on the truth.”

“You trust him not to twist his own web of lies and make himself seem like the good guy?” Master Krygour spat.

“I was equally as much the victim as I am the villain in the Dark War,” Muras explained. “I refuse to claim to be the good guy or paint my name in a good light, because I am aware I did some awful things, whether it be a thousand years ago or as recent as twenty years ago. I just want to correct the false information in recorded history, and help people understand what happened to me. So yes, I will do what I can to help correct Warfang’s records.”

“You can’t let him do that! He’ll taint everything! That devil will use that opportunity to brainwash Warfang, and then he and his little devil apprentice will drown Warfang in darkness and feed it over to Spyro! They’re all under cahoots!”

“And there are your true colours, Krygour,” Master Almai growled. “Are you serious? ‘Little devil’? You better not have called him that this afternoon. Now don’t you dare lie; you have nothing to hide now.”

Master Krygour’s face darkened significantly, his eyes gleaming with hatred, both towards Muras and Master Almai. “I might have,” he said darkly. “Honestly, I was quite surprised by him in class. I thought he would defend himself a lot more. I also was really surprised he didn’t know that his mentor was the great Dark Master.”

“YOU TOLD HIM ABOUT THAT?!” Muras roared, tears now streaming down his face as he realised he had missed his chance to tell Forzen in a controlled setting.

“Actually, I didn’t. The students did,” Master Krygour clarified with a dark smile.

This time, the punch came from Master Almai, coupled with a violent curse. Master Krygour groaned as the back of his head slammed against the wall, and he spat out blood that was now starting to ooze out from his gums.

“For the love of the ancestors, keep your class in check, you bigoted bastard. I will be taking this to Hyrath, and I will see to it that you either get fired, or you lose your chance to teach any class that Forzen’s in, and any class that focuses on the Dark War, do you understand?” Master Almai snarled.

“You’re making that all up,” Master Krygour laughed. “You have no power over me. You can’t convince Hyrath to do any of that.”

“I can at least try. Now get lost. We’re going to find Forzen to try and fix the damage you caused.”

“Hope you have bad luck with that.”

“Go to hell,” Muras scowled.

“You first, devil.”

Master Almai punched the ice dragon once more, causing him to slump to the ground in pain. The earth dragon had to hold himself back from punching the horrible dragon a third time; just looking at him made his blood boil. Master Almai bit his lip, shaking his head, before he spoke.

“You would do better than to antagonise Forzen if that’s what you truly believed about him. If you truly thought he was a devil, I would think trying to upset him, antagonise him, and spill your bigotry on him would be the last thing you’d do. After all, if he really was evil deep inside that ‘dark heart’ of his, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were his first victim,” Master Almai growled lowly. “Likewise with this other ‘purple devil’ standing a few metres away. Think twice before you act next time.”

Master Krygour flinched as he realised what Master Almai was saying. Muras knew the large earth dragon didn’t believe in the words he was saying, but he sure made it very believable, particularly for someone like Master Krygour who truly did believe that he and Forzen were hellspawn.

However, Master Almai wasn’t finished. He turned and spat on the ground beside Master Krygour, before he uttered one more word, his voice dripping with more venom than Muras had expected from him.

“Gab’vaal.”

Muras’ eyes widened. It, like ‘moras’tov’, was an ancient word, and while superstitious at best, was an ancient curse that someone would say when they wished the worst suffering on another dragon. The exact curse was long since lost to time, but it was easily a hundred times worse than a simple ‘go to hell’. He was surprised that these ancient words were still known amongst a small few dragons in the modern day, however it was also a bit sad to know that it seemed to primarily be racist slurs or the worst curse anyone could mutter at another being.

He watched as Master Krygour’s eyes also widened, signifying that he knew the meaning behind the word as well.

Master Almai then turned and broke into a sprint, urging Muras to follow him. They both made their way out of the building as fast as they could, immediately taking to the skies, trying to get a wide look at the massive city from above.

“Hopefully it’s not too hard to find one lone purple dragon amongst all these other colours,” Master Almai murmured.

“I’m so scared,” Muras whimpered. “I left it too late to tell him. What will he think of me now?”

“Muras, we will cross that bridge when we find him. For now, finding him is the most important part. We don’t know where he is, who he’s with, what’s happened to him… I just want to find him and make sure he’s safe. Can you help me with that?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I think so.”

“Great. Now let’s go find Forzen.”

They flew up high in the air for a few minutes, keeping a few metres apart to try and get the widest reach they could while still being able to see and hear each other. As Muras searched, he could feel his heart racing and more tears threaten to leave his eyes. He fought hard against his emotions, knowing that crying would only blind him with his tears and stop him from scouting for Forzen properly.

He couldn’t believe how quickly this afternoon had fallen apart, particularly his plans for tonight. He was supposed to sit down and tell Forzen about his true identity as Malefor, only to find out that Forzen had already been told hours ago during school, and had run off to who knows where. Was he safe? Would he ever trust him again?

Every minute that passed was long and agonising. Every minute that passed was another minute that Forzen spent alone, probably hating him, more and more with every single second that ticked by.

Curse you, Malefor. Curse the darkness in the Well of Souls for infecting me. Curse those damned cultists that stole me away and left me to starve down in the Well! Muras thought, rage building up inside him. You ruined my life! You tainted the legacy of me, my family, and of all purple dragons!

I never had this pressure and hatred from the previous corrupt purples; they were too few and far between to have impacted my world the way I impacted the current world! Spyro isn’t helping matters either; curse you, too!

So many evil purple dragons; I’m sure we’ll only ever be thought of as evil creatures many millennia into the future after this. I worry for all the purple dragons to come, knowing that this is the legacy that Spyro and I—no, Spyro and Malefor—have set for them.

“I found him!” Master Almai shouted, tearing Muras from his dark thoughts.

Muras followed Master Almai’s claw down to the roof of the library, where a lone purple blob sat. As they got closer, it slowly began to look more like Forzen. Muras shot forward, Master Almai following close behind him, before they landed on the roof behind Forzen.

“Forzen, I—!” Muras started.

“What are you two doing here?” Forzen interrupted, his voice low and dark.

Both adult dragons faltered, wincing at the venom and heartache in the younger purple dragon’s voice. A few moments passed, before Forzen turned around, looking at them with judgemental, untrustworthy eyes. “I have no idea why the hell you’re here, Master Almai,” Forzen said, confusion edging his tone slightly, before he turned to Muras and spoke with pure malice. “And you, Malefor… get out of my sight.”

“Forzen. Let me explain. Please,” Muras pleaded softly.

“Explain what?! That you lied to me?! Well yeah, I already figured that out!” Forzen snapped. “You come to me, pretending that you and Malefor are completely separate dragons, and that you were supposedly born between Malefor and Spyro! Jaarsol told me the legend! Once every ten generations! Of course I’m the exception since I directly inherited my cursed purple dragon genes, but you? It didn’t add up!”

“Forzen…”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last… however long it was. Thinking about how much you lied to me. How you so easily hid something as important as you being Malefor, the Dark Master, the murderer of millions, the one who almost led the world to its demise! You don’t think I deserved to know that? You know, the one seemingly good purple dragon who is overshadowed by a not so distant history of two other purple dragons in a row going evil and starting wars? A history that is still in the present? You wouldn’t think that the poor kid whose father is an evil purple dragon should deserve to know that his mentor also used to be one? How do I know you’re not still evil? I can’t… I can’t trust you right now!”

“Forzen, please just calm down so we can talk about this,” Master Almai said gently.

“Butt out of it! This doesn’t concern you in the slightest!” Forzen snarled, before turning his attention back to Muras. “You told me you were evil for a time, Muras. By that, I thought you meant a few hours, a few days, max! But no, in truth you were Malefor, the evil purple dragon who spent one thousand years trapped away in Convexity, before roaming the world freely for another three years after that! I don’t know how long you roamed around for before you were imprisoned in Convexity, but I’m confident it was several more years, right?”

“Yes…” Muras murmured.

“How many?”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty… whole years? Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Muras suddenly collapsed to the ground as lightning tore through his system. He looked up once his body had stopped thrashing, surprise taking over him as he realised Forzen had just attacked him. Looking at Forzen broke his heart. The young purple dragon’s eyes were bloodshot, red with emotion, tears threatening to surface, but Forzen fought against his emotions with everything he had; Muras could see the fight taking place as he grit his teeth and trembled with anger and emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Muras whispered under his breath.

“HOW COULD YOU HIDE THIS FROM ME?!” Forzen screamed. “YOU DIDN’T THINK AT LEAST ONCE THAT I NEEDED TO KNOW ANY OF THIS?!”

“Forzen. Please don’t yell over the top of me; let me explain,” Muras croaked as he lifted himself back into a sitting position; Master Almai stepped forward to help Muras sit up, but the purple dragon shrugged the teacher off him.

“You better not tell me any more lies, you got that? You’ve caused me enough pain and trauma in the week I’ve been here. This is your last chance before I ditch you and Warfang for good. I still don’t know if I can trust you, and once again you’ve failed to prove that you can be. I don’t feel safe anywhere, and all I want is just one dragon who can teach me things and not hurt me again,” Forzen said, his voice small and quivering with emotion. “So please, no more secrets about purple dragons. Tell me the truth about you, and tell me everything you know about how we react to dark magic. I need to know whether I’m truly doomed to the same fate that you and Spyro were. I need to know whether I truly am a devil like everyone says I am.”

“Okay. I promise. No more lies. No more hiding things. So, as you now know, I was born a thousand years ago. I was raised as a good kid, in a good home, with good parents. The guardians cared for me and helped teach me about my elements once they discovered I could use multiple of them, kind of like the way I was teaching you with your lightning element,” Muras explained. “However, there was a cult in Warfang that believed purple dragons were a mutation, a curse, sent by the ancestors themselves, so when I was ten, they kidnapped me and threw me into the Well of Souls as a sacrifice. Whether it was a sacrifice to the ancestors, or to the dark spirits that slumbered inside the Well, I don’t know.

“I was stuck in there for a few weeks before I managed to make it out, and in that time, the Night of Eternal Darkness had come and gone, and during that night, I had become entranced by the dark energy surrounding me, and… well, I had absorbed a lot of it. My belief is that exposure was what eventually made me turn.

“Now, I made it back home eventually, and over the next nineteen years I would go through several trials all accumulating to my eventual downfall to becoming Malefor. I had several family members pass, and when I was twenty-one, one of my best friends committed suicide.

“Two years after that, a war broke out between Warfang and a wolf civilisation, and I joined the army to help fight. I became a large target in this war, and I was eventually captured and held for ransom. Warfang sent a rescue mission, but it was a glorious failure; seeing all those dragons die trying to save me… it broke me. Warfang sent another rescue mission three months later and I was successfully rescued, but by that point, my mental state was deteriorating and I found myself more agitated, more angry, more susceptible to darker thoughts.

“Right before I turned twenty-five, I single-handedly ended the war. I slaughtered the entire city we were at war with. I’m sure you remember on Glaenday when you asked how old I—and by extent Malefor—was when I was corrupted; twenty-five was one of those numbers. I didn’t make up either of those numbers, by the way; I chose those because they were very key times to my descent into Malefor. That day I slaughtered the wolves… I’d never felt so much rage, so much hatred… so much bloodlust. But that day I was also seen as a hero for ending the war.

“That was when I got the idea to hire others to fake big crimes so I could come in and save everyone. I got obsessed with being the hero. That was the moment I grew in my lust for power. This went on for a year and a bit, before I was caught and imprisoned for a few months. I was nearing twenty-eight when I was released and my mind was fading fast . The darkness inside of me was growing, and I couldn’t stop it. I became a bully and a very horrible person, eventually driving my foster brother to suicide.

“The other number I gave was twenty-nine. That’s because on my twenty-ninth hatchday, Malefor was truly born. I fully gave in, and lost all control. I killed a guardian that day. I was eventually overpowered and exiled, so I returned to the Well of Souls and built my ape army. In the time between then and my next return to Warfang, both my parents died. Father went mad. He—”

Muras paused. He couldn’t go into too much detail. It wasn’t appropriate to talk about everything his father did to Forzen. He was only twelve; he didn’t need to know that his father had become  a rapist in his maniacal madness. Muras looked behind him, only now remembering that Master Almai was still there, also listening intently.

“—He started killing people, and… doing other horrible things to people. Worse than killing them,” Muras explained carefully; he looked over to Master Almai, whose eyes were wide with horror as he pieced together what Muras was so carefully implying. “He was later executed, and my mother killed herself in response to everything that had happened. This is why Master Krygour probably told you that I killed my family. Because… in a way, I did. And I regret it every single time I think of them.

“Even back then I regretted it. But that regret turned to shame, and that shame turned to hate. I had nothing for my true self to cling onto, and so my darkness took over. In my last moments, I named that darkness Malefor, and so I would then take on that name, erasing Muras from existence for centuries. It was only when the ancestors purified me and allowed me to return, intending for me to mentor you, that I came back as the dragon I used to be, before all the darkness.”

Forzen just looked up at Muras. The purple dragon couldn’t read the younger one’s expression. Muras hoped that was enough for him. He hoped the shortened, paraphrased recount of his life was enough for Forzen to accept it. It was all the important major information, omitting all the super detailed stuff that he had told Cynder back in his cave all those years ago, and the full details of his father’s atrocities.

“So… the Well of Souls… that exposure to its dark energy was what put that growing darkness in you, right?” Forzen asked.

“I believe so, yes,” Muras replied. “I can only assume; I don’t know the ins and outs of how dark magic works or how our bodies, our essence core, our convexity blueprint, reacts to it. I can’t say I’m an expert of how corruption of a purple dragon even works, or even if I understand everything that happened with my mind, but I have a pretty strong feeling that that is what caused it. Same with Spyro’s case; he was affected by the Well’s dark magic when he was twelve, even more so than me. Unlike me, Spyro developed a completely separate dark alter ego. I don’t know what caused his reaction to be so different from mine, but I can only assume that this dark alter ego helped him make the turn to darkness.”

“So I’d need to have dark magic from the Well in me to be susceptible to going evil?”

“Oh, Forzen…” Master Almai murmured. “You’re scared you’re going to go dark, aren’t you?”

“It’s not that farfetched of a fear to have, isn’t it? When my own father is the current evil purple dragon, and the last one was vanquished barely eight years before he fell into darkness, and no one knows what causes that switch, of course I’m scared!” Forzen exclaimed. “For all I know, it could just be something that happens to purple dragons! From what I know, Spyro was one of the most humble, peace-loving dragons around before his corruption. From what you tell me, Muras, you were a pretty good kid too. So what happens if all the effort I’m putting in to be as good and as peaceful as I can, to try and prove that purple dragons can be good, all ends up for naught and I turn evil out of nowhere?

“And, if it is exposure to dark magic, what does that mean? What does ‘exposure’ mean? Is it like catching a contagious airborne virus or do I have to have it directly injected into me? I worry because I have been around dark magic for all my life; I was raised in Dark Peak, surrounded by kids who were taken away and came back as mutated, murderous monsters, surrounded by artificial dragons that were crafted from scratch with dark magic. I don’t know what’s inside me, and I’m scared that being here is a bad idea.”

“Forzen. There’s nothing to worry about just yet. I’ve been through this myself, I’m sure I can pick up signs if there is something happening inside you,” Muras said firmly. “Please trust me on that.”

“But what good is it if we can’t stop it? Yeah, if we pick up the signs early, that’s one thing, but if we can’t stop it, what’s the point?”

“I… I don’t know…”

Forzen sighed, lowering his head as he stared at his paws. Muras looked back at Master Almai, who had the same dejected expression as both the purple dragons did.

“I feel… so hopeless… so stuck. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What am I here for? Why do I need to be here learning all this stuff, trying to get people to like me, if it’s all going to be for nothing in the end?” Forzen croaked, his voice breaking as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

“Tell you what, Forzen… I’ve not been much of a research person, but… if there’s a way I can try and find a solution, or find a way to know how our bodies work, then I will do my best to do that,” Muras suggested. “I can talk to the guardians in the morning and see if I can get Master Lagenon to help out. I’m sure it’ll be good information to pursue, both to help us understand you, but also to help future generations understand their own purple dragons when their time comes.”

“Are you sure, Muras? Haven’t you got enough on your plate already?” Master Almai asked, stepping forward. “You work, you’re mentoring Forzen, and you said you were going to provide something to help teach the history around your descent to darkness, something that’s a bit more accurate to your story.”

“I can figure something out, Master Almai. I want to do this,” Muras countered. “Anything to help Forzen, and the future generations of purple dragons. I’m sick of all the problems that Forzen’s had to deal with, and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through the same. I don’t want anyone to be clueless and ill-prepared on what to do should a purple dragon be exposed to darkness, because I think we are very susceptible to its effects. I want to be able to prevent situations like this one, with two evil purple dragons back-to-back.”

“Muras—”

“Do not fight me on this one. Please. I’ve done enough damage, to the world and to the future of purple dragons. I want to make things right. Too much is unknown about us, particularly since I destroyed many of the records all those centuries ago. Too much lost knowledge, too much that everyone is unprepared for in terms of raising and aiding purple dragons, particularly in keeping them safe from darkness. I need to find answers.”

“I… okay. Just know, if you need help with any of Forzen’s training, if time is willing I will be happy to help if you need time off that for anything else. I may not be able to help him with his elements, unless of course he discovers earth, but I can at least help him train. It might allow me to figure out how best to help him in a school setting for combat class too.”

“Only if Forzen’s okay with that,” Muras said, turning to Forzen.

“I… Yeah, I guess that’s fine,” Forzen said, before murmuring under his breath, “It wouldn’t be the worst arrangement I’ve gotten for this training crap…”

Muras sighed as he caught the words. He’s not wrong. I worry for his training sessions with Cynder, Muras thought. I bet he’s terrified for them.

The purple dragon then turned back to Master Almai with a soft smile. “Then yes, your help will be greatly appreciated if you’re needed,” Muras replied.

“Great,” Master Almai said, before looking out over the sky to see the sun setting. “Anyway, I should probably head back and pack up everything in the office, and maybe talk to Master Hyrath about that scum teacher.”

“Scum teacher?” Forzen questioned.

“We ran into Master Krygour after a meeting that we had,” Master Almai explained. “We heard what happened in history and can I just say that I am awfully sorry to hear what happened, and I will make sure that it won’t happen again.”

“Master Almai, it’s fine… you don’t have to—”

“You can’t persuade me otherwise, Forzen. What he started in that class… that’s not appropriate, and very unbecoming of a teacher. No student deserves that,” Master Almai said firmly, before he looked back at Muras. “Can I trust you two on your own now?”

“I… I think so?” Muras said with uncertainty, looking to Forzen for confirmation.

“Yeah, sure. For now. Don’t expect me to hang around you much,” Forzen grumbled.

“I understand. I’ll give you your space to process everything and be alone. Now, we should head home,” Muras said.

With that, the three dragons all turned and left, Master Almai returning back to the Academy, and Muras and Forzen returning home. Not a word was spoken between the two purple dragons as they flew back to Muras’ house. The older purple dragon gave a few glances towards Forzen, and sighed.

You don’t deserve any of this torment, young dragon. None of it, he thought. No dragon does. I promise I will make it up to you, Forzen. If there is anything I can do to prove that you won’t become evil, I will find it.

You deserve a good life, and I intend to help you get that.

Chapter Text

Cynder woke up to her heavy coughing wracking her body. Her body ached and her throat burned. She tried to open her eyes, and squinted as bright candlelight assaulted her vision. In front of her was a nurse who had spots of blood all over her paws. As Cynder looked over herself, she noticed she had several bandages around her limbs, some of them stained red with small spots of blood.

As her vision cleared up, she saw the interior of a large cave with several torches illuminating it with a warm orange light. Looking around, there were five other nurses walking around, with about thirty wounded dragons lying throughout the cave. Each of the nurses were also wounded, bandages wrapping around their upper legs and shoulders, one of them even with one wrapped around the left side of her face, covering her eye.

“Oh, thank the ancestors. You’re finally awake,” the nurse tending to Cynder exclaimed, relief washing over her.

“What happened? How long was I out for?” Cynder croaked.

“It’s been two days since Typhaar was reduced to rubble. Just over thirty of us were able to get out of Typhaar alive.”

“Reduced to rubble? What…?”

Cynder stopped herself, as the memories washed over her, her mind replaying the moment the Typhaarian guards pulled her and Aerus out of the palace, before the entire city was destroyed due to the ‘excavation’ that D’varin and Trogon had done. The moment Aerus’ name entered her mind, she immediately jolted up, looking around her frantically, ignoring the pain shooting through her legs.

It took a few seconds, but she finally found him, lying beside her, curled up and bandaged like her. Relief briefly washed over her, but a small bit of fear still gripped at her heart. “Is he okay?” Cynder pleaded.

“He’s fine; he woke up early yesterday morning, and he was up for all of today as well. He went back to sleep about two hours ago,” the nurse said.

“Oh, thank the ancestors. Um… do you know how we got here?”

“Some guards found some other survivors and followed them over here to the hideout. They were also pretty roughed up from the destruction of the city. One of them succumbed to his wounds about an hour after they walked in with you. We did the best we could to help him, but we were unable to. The other three are still alive and being cared for.”

Cynder just nodded. “How are we?” Cynder asked, gesturing to herself and Aerus’ sleeping form. “We kinda need to get all the way back to Warfang, sooner than later would be preferred. How long will it be before you think we’re healthy enough to make the flight back?”

“Well, your bodies need a lot of rest, and they were very badly wounded; there’s only so much red gems can do. Your brother’s head wound worried us quite a lot; it looked like a very heavy blow from an earth dragon’s clubbed tail, due to the shape of the wound, but it was very big and had been bleeding quite a lot. Luckily, he woke up with just a concussion, but don’t think he’ll be able to do long flights for the next few days due to how concussed he was. He had other very deep cuts and claw wounds over his body, as do you, but the red gems did a pretty good job at dealing with them for the most part.

“As for you, your worst wounds were the deep punctures in your neck and limbs, as well as many severe grazes to your head, those of which I’m assuming came from the falling rubble that almost buried you and the guards, according to their recount, where you had been knocked out instantly from the impact. Your right wing was also broken from it.”

“So you’re saying we’ll be stuck in here for the next few days…” Cynder murmured.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you have any other red gems you can give us to speed up the process? Please? I’m the leader of the Warfang Army, they need me over there!”

“We’ve already given you two the amount you need; extra red gems won’t speed up the process. Your brother’s head wound has been mended, and your wing has been fixed, but with your wing still tender and healing, and your brother concussed, it is not safe to go on that long a flight yet.”

“Just try! Please!”

“Do not beg any further, you’re not getting any!” the nurse snapped, causing Cynder to recoil; Cynder felt anger build up inside her and was about to retaliate, before she realised she didn’t know much about anything medical and that it was probably a good idea to listen to the nurse. “They won’t help you. Even if red gems were able to help you, we don’t have the amount to spare on a concussion and a healing wing, now that your major wounds have been treated by them. There are others that need them more.”

The nurse gestured over to a spot a few metres away. Cynder followed her gesture to a young wind dragon, about thirteen years old, lying in agony as he lay flat on his back, his limbs splayed out around him, each one of them awfully mangled and twisted, with dark, crusted blood covering his limbs. His face was also disfigured, his jaw hanging crooked and the left side of his head seemingly caved in. Cynder realised with horror that this poor dragon must have been completely crushed by large amounts of rubble, and only just survived, having been pulled out in time.

A mother looked on with concern, sitting back a few metres as she watched two nurses working around the teenager, cleaning his wounds and breaking red gems over them, before wrapping them up in clean bandages. The old bandages lay rolled up beside the nurses, stained red with blood that had dried into the fabric.

Focusing on the mother, Cynder noticed her right eye was bandaged up, and she was missing a paw, the stump at the end of her arm also bandaged up. Her body was covered in partially healed grazes and scabs, and some other wounds had turned into scars.

Guilt washed over Cynder as she realised how selfish she was being. This poor kid definitely needed the red gems way more than she and Aerus did. As she looked around, there were a few other dragons scattered throughout the cave that were also in awful, bloody conditions.

As she looked over them, she realised that for the first time in a very long time, she was starting to feel sick at the sight of these wounds. She’d been in so many gory fights for so many years that she’d become desensitised to the immense wounds that she had dealt and seen dealt. She, as well as her soldiers, had come to expect seeing so much gore in these fights. These were regular dragons, just living their lives, unaccustomed to anything so brutal, and now they were thrown into such immense pain and awful disfigurements, wounds, and losses of body parts.

Cynder didn’t know what that was like. She’d been around this type of stuff since she was born, being raised under Malefor’s control. But after she had been rescued and started to life a normal life, she grew a heart. She knew she’d lost that heart after Spyro turned and started yet another war, but had it really changed her that much? Was she really that heartless?

Warfang had also been abundant with red gems, even to cater to the insane amount of heavy wounds that each attack on the city saw; there were many scouting parties that searched for them, and recently there had been a few farms for red gems that had been made, trying to make more and more to help cater for Warfang’s needs. The aftermath of big fights also only seemed so severe when there were actual deaths or wounds that red gems couldn’t heal completely, but everything else was almost completely dealt with red gems. Cynder had never thought of what might happen when there was a shortage of them. She never thought of how many awful wounds would be left untreated, and that a priority system would have to be put in place to help cater for dragons in conditions like that.

The agonised cries of the thirteen-year-old dragon finally registered in her ears, and her stomach twisted at how awful they were to listen to. No dragon, no child , deserved to go through that much pain. She hated watching and listening to him, but at the same time, she couldn’t tear her eyes and ears away. Her eyes kept flicking between the teenage boy and his distraught mother, who was forced to watch her son scream and cry in complete agony as his nurses dabbed at his awfully raw wounds with wet towels to try and clean them of the dried, crusted blood. The mother’s exposed eye was red with emotion, but it was completely dry; she had no more tears to give.

It was only when the nurse started speaking again that her attention went back to the nurse standing beside her. “Dragons like that… they need the red gems more than anyone else here,” the nurse explained sadly. “We’ve managed to see all thirty of the dragons in our care, and done our best to make sure everyone’s at least been cared for, but right now, these ones are our priority and seek all of our care.”

“I understand. I… I’m sorry about insisting about the red gems,” Cynder apologised.

“It’s alright. I just… needed to make sure you understood why we couldn’t give you two any, regardless of if they would even help or not.”

“I know. So… with a natural recovery rate, do you know how long it’ll take before my brother and I are able to make the flight back to Warfang?”

“I’d like to keep watch over your brother for another day or two since he had such a heavy concussion. You on the other hand, I want to keep you here resting that wing for three days,” the nurse said, and Cynder’s heart dropped at the time frames she was given, even though she knew the nurse was right. “The last thing I want you to do is to overexert and put too much pressure on that wing while it’s still coming out of being broken; we mended it for the most part, but the bone isn’t fully healed yet. So for now, I want you here for three days.”

“Oh. Okay… I understand.”

“Great. Feel free to get up and have a walk around if you need to stretch your legs or have some time to yourself. I know it can be quite overwhelming in here, particularly with the smell of so many wounds and the sounds of agony. Just… no flying, got it?”

“Got it. Thank you.”

The nurse said nothing more. She nodded with a smile, before turning and walking off in the other direction towards another patient, leaving Cynder alone in her thoughts. The first thing that came to her mind was the end of that night in Typhaar when the queen had been killed, the Ring of Spirits stolen, and Typhaar destroyed.

She had failed.

It wasn’t a new concept to her; they had lost many battles over the course of the war, more than they had won, unfortunately. But this was the worst failure she had ever had. It wasn’t just a large amount of deaths or captures, or just an ancient artifact stolen, or the destruction of a large amount of infrastructure. An entire city was gone. Erased from existence. Only thirty made it out alive. She didn’t know how big Typhaar was, but there were easily several thousand dragons living in the city.

Thousands of dragons, completely erased from existence, crushed by their own home.

It was one of the biggest tragedies she had seen since the war started. As she thought of all the tragedies she’d seen, she almost put it higher than Armageddon. She knew Armageddon was many hundreds or even thousands of times worse than this, but the difference was they had won against Armageddon. This was far from a victory. She hadn’t been able to stop this, and it was tearing her apart as she thought of this.

It was purely irrational and made no sense to rank this higher than Armageddon on the ‘tragedy severity list’ that she was internalising, but that was what it felt like to her. She hadn’t had a failure this big in years.

Her mind started to get loud, combining with the sounds of agony around her, particularly from the poor teenage boy with awfully mangled limbs. It was getting way too much for her. Her head began to hurt as it started churning with the screams, the thoughts, the guilt and hatred, the sights…

She felt her breath quicken, her chest tighten, sweat start pouring down her face. From that moment, Cynder knew that she was getting way too overwhelmed, as the reality of everything hit her all at once.

I need to get out of here.

Leaping up to her paws, she speed-walked over towards the mouth of the cave and left, stepping out into the forest. She sighed as the ambient noise around her quietened down, and she began to take a small walk in the forest to gain her sanity after her near breakdown. It was nice to be surrounded by quiet for a time, and to take in the soft white moonlight from Adrano that shone down on the serene forest below the sky.

However, the serene forest didn’t last for very long, as she stepped out of the edge of the forest to a large plain that stretched down a large hill. At the bottom of the hill lay what was left of Typhaar. It was nothing but rubble, every building destroyed, as a large gaping hole stretched across where Queen Lehftin’s palace had once been.

Seeing the state of the city made the realisation of how much she had failed even worse. She felt her breath catch in her throat as her heart ached for the many thousands of lives lost, but she couldn’t bring herself to cry. She almost felt unable to.

A few brief moments passed, before the sorrow gave way to pure anger, at herself for failing, and at Spyro for corrupting those poor kids and forcing them to commit these atrocities. A raw scream tore from her throat before she turned and started attacking a thick tree, tearing into it with her claws and tailblade, eventually chopping it down. Feeling the rage still burning inside her, she moved to another tree and tore at it as well, knocking it down just like the first. As the second tree fell, it collapsed into another tree, causing both trees to explode into tiny splinters as it threw pieces of wood everywhere.

Cynder watched her carnage, but it still wasn’t enough for her. She reared her head and cursed Spyro at the top of the lungs. She then started to curse the ancestors. She screamed and howled until her throat hurt. Her head spun from her screaming, and she sat herself down to the ground. Rage still seethed inside her, but she’d let enough of it out where she was able to just sit in silent anger. Her breath was heavy and quivering, and she tried to slow it down to calm her anger.

She didn’t know how long she sat there under Adrano’s soft light, trying to calm her rage, but eventually she finally felt it dissipate, taking on the form of a shadow in her heart, the way it usually had for the past twelve years. It was a constant shadow that had lingered in her heart for so long, she didn’t know what it felt like to live without it anymore. She didn’t know what calmness felt like. There was always some form of anger, fear, or horror lying dormant inside her, ready to break out.

Suddenly, she became aware of a soft green light before her. She jumped, before whirling around to look at the large green spectre standing behind her. It was the spirit of a very familiar bulky earth dragon who had been a very large part of her teenage years when growing up in Warfang. Terrador looked upon her with sorrow in his eyes as he watched her suffer. However, at the sight of him, her face twisted with disgust.

“Go away,” Cynder spat.

“Cynder, I just want to make sure you’re all right,” Terrador said softly, his deep, gravelly voice sending chills down her spine.

“You said this when you last visited me four years ago. I’m. Fine. Now leave me alone.”

“You also said that four years ago. Cynder, you’ve just gotten worse since then, same with the world around you. You’ve… you’ve been shutting all of us out since then… since before then even; last time I visited was a struggle to get through to you.”

“I don’t need ghosts of the past haunting me any more than they already are. I just need to move on with life and keep fighting, keep trying to win this damn war. Getting caught up talking with apparitions won’t help that.”

“Apparitions? Ghosts of the past? Is that all you see us as now? Not old friends and family? Ancestors?”

“If the ancestors really cared, they’d get rid of Spyro for us! They wouldn’t keep us suffering down here! You say you all care, but every time you visit just brings more pain! You remind me of my past failures. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect my parents. I couldn’t protect my comrades. Every time you try to visit me to make sure I’m okay, to try and ‘help’ me, you only make things worse! I hate it every time you visit me!”

“Cynder…” Terrador muttered, shaking his head sadly.

“Don’t you dare!” Cynder scowled, taking a threatening step forward.

Terrador stepped backwards, trying to keep the space between him and Cynder. He knew he was a spirit and she couldn’t harm him, but she’d grown so intimidating over the years that she scared even him , even in a spirit form. Terrador would hate to be alive and subject to the full force of Cynder’s uncontrollable anger.

“You don’t get to speak. It’s my turn to speak. You want to know how I’m doing? Fine. I’m doing awful !” Cynder screamed, her voice raw. “Twelve years this war has raged on and I have had to lead Warfang in it and try and protect everyone! Twelve years I’ve had to fight for my life, fight for the life of my comrades, my superiors, my fellow citizens! Twelve years I’ve been forced to kill or be killed! Twelve years I’ve had to watch families, friends, and couples suffer as they lose people they love, or watch their loved ones become crippled or disabled from their wounds! I could go on and on about how horrible these last twelve years have been, and that’s not even including the first twelve years of my life when I was forced to do atrocity after atrocity, killing and torturing and maiming because I loved it!

“Twenty-four years of my life has been drowned in blood, trapped in an endless loop of violence and darkness and self-hatred, and these last twelve years in particular has been failure after failure after failure! Do you know what that does to someone Terrador?! I am so close to just giving up! It feels like there’s no point continuing to fight because we fail more than we win, and every time we fail, people lose loved ones! We lost thousands of lives that night in Typhaar! I can’t keep watching as we continue to lose lives at our own hands because we can’t protect them!

“I’ve gotten to the point where I want to just give everything up to Spyro and tell him ‘they’re your subjects now, not mine, so you do what you want with them and if they get themselves killed it’s their own fault’! I’m this close to giving myself over to him because I know that even if he corrupts me and I return to the hellish trap I was raised in, he will take care of me! I can feel Spyro’s victory on the horizon! I don’t want him taking any more lives than he has to! If I just give everything over to him, we wouldn’t have to lose any more families from pointless sieges as Spyro tries to take away everyone’s freedom!

“And now after all this, my son is back! That cursed purple devil who I brought into the world! I don’t know what his true intentions are! What if after all this time, he’s on Spyro’s side, trying to act all innocent just to get on our good side, just to kill us from the inside?! What if he was Spyro’s great plan after all this time?! I helped Spyro make that weapon! I let his little devil form inside me, feed off me to create his egg! He’s just as much my failure as Typhaar is! If anyone dies by his claws, it will be my fault, because I MADE HIM! He carries my blood as well as Spyro’s! THE BLOOD OF THE TERROR OF THE SKIES IS INSIDE THAT MONSTER! MY SON WILL BE TWICE THE MURDERER THAT I EVER WAS AFTER BEING RAISED BY MY TWISTED, DEVILISH HUSBAND!”

As Cynder finished screaming, she was only just aware that she was now inches away from Terrador’s face as she howled in his face, spittle spraying from her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She felt her entire body trembling with self-hatred and fear. Her throat burned and her heart raced. Her heart ached even more as she suddenly realised that for the first time, she had actually admitted Forzen’s blood ties with her, that he was actually her son. As much as she had disowned him, nothing could remove the truth that he was, biologically, her child.

Cynder became acutely aware of Terrador’s face, watching as it became full of terror and anguish as he simply watched her outburst, letting her scream at him to her heart’s content. She took in a hoarse, ragged breath as she stepped back a few steps and sat down, looking down at her paws. Her trembling got worse, and her tears began to spill down her face faster, flooding out of her eyes.

Before she knew it, she found herself continuing to ramble, words spilling from her lips in a hoarse croak. “If my son kills anyone… I will never forgive myself. That I could bring such an awful creature into this world, and let him run around and do what he wants… that I would let Muras teach that monster how to use his elements and how to kill things. My responsibility as a mother is to make sure he never learns his elements. Even if the guardians force me to teach him wind, I will beat the will to learn out of him, so much so that he will never want to take lessons from me again. I will not comply with teaching my son how to kill.”

“So… why continue doing everything that you’re doing? Leading the army, protecting Warfang, silently allowing Forzen to stay in Warfang?” Terrador challenged. “If all this is what you really think, why don’t you just leave?”

“Because… at the same time, I can’t bring myself to do that to my friends… my brother, the only family I have left… my comrades. I can’t just… leave them; they need me,” Cynder explained. “And they will never understand my point of view. They’re too blind to see the truth. They will never see Spyro’s victory coming. As much as I can, and as much as I just want to give him the victory at this point, I can’t throw everyone else under like that. They don’t deserve that awful reality, especially if they don’t know it’s coming. I only exist to delay the future because I also care about them. Besides, if I gave Warfang up to Spyro, I’d be no better than Apata’s father, who gave their home up to Malefor out of the same fear I’m feeling. I can’t do that to my friend. I can’t put her through that again.”

“Have… have you ever thought that maybe you’re wrong?” Terrador asked. “What if you could be the victor over Spyro?”

“It’s impossible. It’ll never happen. Spyro was always meant to be the hero. This world… it’s all his. It’s his story, his world. He brought it back together. He recreated it. He owns this world; there’s no way he could ever lose it. He is the hero of his own story, and his story will continue to see him win,” Cynder murmured. “Me on the other hand? I’m the villain. Always have been, since the moment we first met in Concurrent Skies. I only exist to get in the way of his plans and his goals.”

“You can’t seriously think that.”

“And what if I do?”

“Please rethink all this, Cynder. Your worldview, after so many years of trauma and horror and darkness, is twisted beyond belief. It’s broken. It’s only got this strong of a grip on you because you’ve let it, and you’ve refused to see any other worldview. You’ve let it consume you from the inside, from bottling up all these thoughts and never telling anyone, pretending to look like you’re on the same mindset as everyone else and trying your hardest to win a war that you think is lost before it’s even over.”

“There is nothing you can do to make me see another view. Not now anyway.”

“Cynder…”

“JUST GO AWAY ALREADY!”

The floodgates crashed down, and Cynder broke. She turned into a sobbing, wailing wreck, her cries shaking her body as tears, snot and saliva ran down her face as she sniffed, cried, choked, and gagged on her heavy emotions. She almost felt like throwing up.

Terrador just watched as Cynder broke in a way she never had before, his heart aching as he watched the awful display before him. There was nothing he could do or say to bring her back from this. She was beyond repair. Only a victory against Spyro, a permanent victory, would bring her back, but she didn’t think it was possible.

He watched as Cynder eventually looked back up at him, and her features twisted into rage once more. “GO AWAY, TERRADOR! NEVER COME BACK!” she howled, before a heavy beam of convexity tore from her throat towards him.

The blinding purple beam went straight through his spirit form, before slamming into a tree that was standing strong behind him, before going up in flames as the convexity beam burned a large hole through the trunk, the wood being set alight.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Terrador whispered sadly, before his spirit form dissipated from the physical world, taking the soft green light with it.

With the darkness of night her only friend, Adrano now covered by thick cloud cover, and the eerie warm light of the burning tree in front of her, Cynder gave way to her emotions, feeling the crushing weight of everything finally hit her as she had finally verbalised her every haunting thought that had plagued her over the past decade. She had let it all out for the very first time.

Hearing those words finally leave her head and come out of her mouth… hearing herself say those words… it broke her more than she thought it would.

She didn’t know how long she sat there crying for. All she knew was that it had easily been several hours that she had spent crying at the edge of the forest, looking over the wreckage of Typhaar from a distance. The sky was starting to brighten, sunrise close to coming. All through this, Cynder hadn’t slept a wink; she’d spent the entire night doing nothing but crying. It was an unfamiliar feeling to her, after so many years of not crying. Even when she was a crier, she didn’t think she’d ever cried this hard before.

Everything hurt .

By the time the sun was peeking over the horizon, the endless wells in her eyes finally dried up, and she could produce no more tears. She sat there in silence watching the sun rise, before she finally got up, wiped her face free of her tears and snot, before she made the trek back to the large cave that all the survivors had been in.

She stumbled back into the cave, carefully stepping around the many other injured dragons. She found her spot by Aerus, who was still sleeping, and sat down a few metres away from him. As she looked around, she noticed just how quiet it was. Most of the dragons in agony who had contributed to the overwhelming cacophony last night were all asleep, including the thirteen-year-old dragon a few metres on the other side of her.

Cynder turned to look at him, and gave a sad sigh when she saw him sleeping on the ground, his face still painted with a pained frown, his bandaged legs held out in front of him, the bandages slightly stained red with fresh blood that seeped from the raw wounds. There was no doubt the blood would dry and harden up around the wounds again by the time the bandages would need to be changed.

“You doing okay?” a soft feminine voice asked her.

Cynder looked over slightly, to see the mother of the young dragon staring at her with wide, caring eyes. “I… I’m fine. It’s just been… a rough night for me. I needed to get out for a bit and… I’ve never felt so many emotions before,” she murmured, trying to keep the details vague.

“At least you’re still feeling. That’s the important part,” the mother said, her thin lips pulling up into a smile. “It shows you still have a heart.”

“It… doesn’t feel like it most of the time. I don’t know what having a heart feels like anymore.”

“It feels like that,” the wind dragoness said, gesturing to Cynder. “I can tell you’ve been crying while you were gone. I also saw the way you looked at my son last night. You worried for him, even though you don’t even know him.”

Cynder glanced down at the young dragon, watching his chest rise and fall softly with each unconscious breath he took. “Will… will he be okay?” Cynder asked.

“The nurses believe so, but they’re not sure how his paws will recover. He may be able to use them again, or they could end up deformed after how badly they were mangled from being crushed under so much rubble. He ended up completely crushed under three stories; it’s a miracle he’s even still alive to be honest. It’s a miracle that his wings were only broken; they’ll make a full recovery. His face will also recover, but it’ll scar pretty badly, and his jaw will remain slightly crooked from the break it had.”

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Again, I’m just thankful he’s alive. I’m thankful I still have one of my four babies still alive after that collapse.”

“One of four?”

“His three sisters died. His father also died. Us two are the only ones who survived.”

An uncomfortable silence washed over them. Cynder had no idea what to say to the grieving mother. The dragoness was aware of this, and stood up, limping over to Cynder on three paws, before placing her remaining front paw on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to say anything. We’ll be fine. Petrius is… he’s a strong dragon. Always has been. He and I will get through this, I’m sure of it,” the mother said with a smile.

“How are you so strong? How are you so hopeful? In a time like this, how can you smile?” Cynder asked, her voice wobbling.

“Because I know the rest of our family is looking over us and praying for our safety. And I know that wars don’t last forever. This will pass eventually, and I’m hopeful that we can win this.”

“How? How can you believe that given all the tragedy that’s just happened?”

“You’re from Warfang, aren’t you?”

“I… Yes. I am.”

“I believe that because Warfang is strong. Warfang is powerful. Warfang won against Malefor. Warfang has come out victorious over many, many wars that it has been part of. I trust that there are many in Warfang who are doing their very best to make sure that they are doing everything they can to protect their home, as well as try and bring an end to this war, and return peace to the entire world. That includes you, Cynder.”

“You… you know who I am?”

“Word spread pretty quickly that the Queen had called for you, Cynder. Many people in Typhaar knew who you are, particularly since you are also a Typhaarian by blood. I know you haven’t had an easy life, but your childhood experiences have helped build you up for this. You know warfare. You know how to fight, and now, you can put that into a much better use. Instead of fighting to destroy, you’re fighting to protect. And many look up to you for that, both in Warfang and in Typhaar, and I’m sure across the rest of the world too.”

Cynder swallowed awkwardly. She wasn’t that special. She was just a broken dragoness who was in over her head, thrown into a situation too big for her. There was no way people saw her like that… right?

There was a soft moan from the young dragon as he woke from his sleep, his pain pulling him back to the waking world. “Mum?” he whimpered, his eyes slowly opening.

“I’d better go to him,” the mother said to Cynder. “Go to your brother. And do your very best when you get back home. We believe in you.”

I wish I could believe that, Cynder thought.

The dragonesses turned and made their way to their respective families. Cynder sat down beside Aerus, looking over his bandages and wounded body sadly. It didn’t take long before he too woke up, letting out a small groan as he rolled over. He sat up, yawning widely, before he noticed Cynder sitting beside him.

“Oh, Cynder! You’re… you’re awake!” Aerus exclaimed with relief. “How… how do you feel?”

Cynder didn’t feel like going on a big spiel about how physically she felt fine but was a wreck mentally. At least… not now, anyway. Right now, only one thing mattered, and that was the fact that they were both alive.

Without even thinking, Cynder reached out and for the first time in twelve years, initiated a hug.

Aerus gasped with shock, at first thinking Cynder was trying to attack him, but when he felt her embrace him and hold onto him firmly, he felt his own eyes tearing up. She was hugging him. What had brought her to finally initiate a hug with him? He felt the way she held onto him, never wanting to let him go. He felt the way her breath trembled against his neck, and the way her arms shook.

Something had seriously messed with her to make her want to hug him.

He would ask later; he was just happy that his sister was finally hugging him.

Aerus gently returned the hug, and Cynder just held him tighter. They sat there, hugging in silence for what felt like ages, before Cynder finally spoke. “I thought I lost you. I saw you go down, your head covered in blood. I saw the way everyone else died: Ta’torol, Forlorӓr, Queen Lehftin, Uncle Prafȗr… I thought you had gone too.”

“Uncle Prafȗr… he died too?” Aerus asked.

“Yeah…”

“How did he die?”

“Tailblade to the chest. He was trying to help save a family from being murdered… only the mother of the family made it out.”

“At least someone made it out. He’ll be happy to know he sacrificed himself to keep another life alive. That was the way he always wanted to go; he always talked about it ever since joining the guards. Either naturally or in battle, protecting others. I… I guess it does make it just us left now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our family. Only we remain alive now. Mum and Dad are dead, so is Uncle Prafȗr, and his other two sisters are also dead; one died a few days after hatching, and the other passed from sickness in her early twenties. Dad didn’t have any siblings. Uncle Prafȗr and Aunt Mimala didn’t have any kids either; Mum was the only one out of the three to get married and have children.”

“So… we’re alone now? It’s just us?”

“I guess so.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, you hear me? I can’t let anything happen to the only family I have left.”

Aerus felt Cynder squeeze him even tighter, her hold becoming almost protective now.

“Thanks, Cynder. Let’s promise to look out for each other, okay?”

“I promise. I love you, brother… even though I do an awful job at showing it.”

“I know. I know you do, even though you don’t know how to say or show it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

If Cynder had the tears to give, she would’ve broken down into tears again in that moment. Right now, she was no longer General Cynder. For the next few days, she just wanted to be plain old Cynder. She wanted to be Aerus’ sister. She wanted to make the most of their time together, even if it was in recovery, before she was thrown back into her tough line of work.

Warfang could wait. The nurse gave her three days before it was safe for her body to make the flight to Warfang. She could spend those three days just being here, resting, and being with Aerus.

At least that was something she could look forward to in these dark times.

Chapter Text

Going to history class was the last thing Forzen was wanting to do today. After how the last lesson went with Master Krygour throwing all sorts of insults and prejudice against him, as well as harshly revealing Muras’ true identity as Malefor to him, it was the last place he wanted to be. Forzen had done his best to not become a hateful person, as to try and be as different from Spyro as he could, and also because Jaarsol had taught him that hatred ruins people from inside, but Forzen couldn’t help but hate the ice dragon for what he did.

He had thought about skipping history class, pretending to forget that he was in the class, but since he was caught between a large group in his class as they funneled out of the math classroom, Forzen knew he couldn’t sneak away without it looking sketchy. The last thing he wanted to do was give false impressions that he was a really shady and secretive person who was running off to ‘scheme’ and ‘plan’, even though it wouldn’t be true. He’d received enough hatred and prejudice during his short time in Warfang; he didn’t want to add more to that by the actions he made.

So, Forzen found himself walking amongst the rest of his class, trying to stay towards the back so as to not be around absolutely everyone in the class, on his way to history class.

He was a bit surprised when Master Krygour did not greet the class and let them in, nor was he even present. Instead Master Hyrath, the principal, stood outside of the classroom and allowed them into it. Questions clouded his brain as he walked in and took a seat in the back corner of the class. What had happened to Master Krygour? Why was he not here? Why was the principal of all people here? Was he teaching them, or was the whole class in big trouble?

As the last of the students made their way into the room, Master Hyrath closed the door behind the last student, before making his way to the front of the classroom. He did the roll call, before he then put the roll on the teacher’s desk beside him and cleared his throat, ready to address the class.

“Alright class, now I wanted to start today off by owing you an apology on behalf of Master Krygour and his behaviour recently,” Master Hyrath said, his voice calm and level, yet still betraying some of his frustration. “It has been highly unprofessional, uncouth, and extremely inappropriate. It was very targeted and unjust towards one of the students in this classroom, and I believe that many of the other students here also joined in, following Master Krygour’s lead.

“I will not stand for behaviour like this in my school, particularly from my teaching team, so Master Krygour has been prohibited from teaching this particular class, especially for the current topic at hand, which from what I heard, was grossly inaccurate and exaggerated to the actual historical events. As for all of you who joined in on this behaviour, I will let you off once, but if it ever happens again in my presence, there will be punishments.”

“What?! Did that purple devil really just dob us all in like that?” a lightning dragon complained.

“No, actually. Forzen had nothing to do with it. Master Krygour mentioned it in passing to another teacher who will remain unnamed, who then in turn told me. It happened after hours, so Forzen was not even present in the school grounds,” Master Hyrath corrected, his voice stern and intimidating. “Now I will not tolerate any targeted verbal harassment towards Forzen. Final warning. And that goes to everyone .”

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“What makes you think I’m not? I am very serious about how I run this school. I don’t care what you think about him being here. He is your classmate and he is here to learn, just like the rest of you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Master Hyrath,” the class chorused.

“Great. Now, onto the class content, I understand that Master Krygour tried to tell you all about the rise of Malefor in the beginning years of the Dark War, am I correct?” Master Hyrath boomed, receiving several nods from the class, including Forzen. “Alright. Well, I think for now, we can come back to the topic of the Dark War. We’ll move onto the War of Blood and Bone and come back to the Dark War at a later date.”

A paw shot up in the air. Master Hyrath held back a frustrated growl, before turning towards the earth dragon who had raised his paw. “Yes, Gagrath?” Master Hyrath said.

“How come we’re changing topics so soon? We just started the Dark War. Why can’t we just continue what we were already learning?” Gagrath asked.

“Because going off the combination of what I heard Master Krygour say last week, combined with what’s in our textbooks, I believe that our unit on the Dark War needs some… heavy revisions. I will be working with Muras and General Cynder on rewriting our unit on the Dark War, and there’s potentially a chance I might even get them to sit in on a lesson with you and talk to you about some of what happened.”

Forzen’s eyes widened. So that’s where Muras had gone yesterday. Cynder and Aerus had returned from Typhaar on Aloeday, and Cynder had brought some awful news with her regarding the wind dragon city, or so Forzen had heard. He still didn’t know what happened. Then yesterday afternoon after school, Muras had gone out for some time after Forzen had returned home; Muras had said he’d had a meeting to go to, but didn’t really explain what it was. It must have been a meeting with Master Hyrath, and by the sounds of it, Cynder as well, to talk about updating the teachings on the Dark War.

The young purple dragon’s heart skipped a beat as Cynder’s name entered his mind. He had his first elemental lesson with her for his wind element this afternoon after school. His dread for history class paled in comparison to his dread for his first lesson with Cynder.

“Alright, if you could open your textbooks to the chapter on the War of Blood and Bone, we’ll begin by looking at an overview of that war, and going into depth on how it began. Now, Styvar, would you like to read the overview box?” Master Hyrath said, his voice cutting through Forzen’s thoughts, making him remember that he was in a classroom and needed to learn.

Scrambling for his textbook, he opened it to the correct page, and began to follow along as Styvar began to read through the section he was asked to.

As the lesson went on, Forzen found he was actually learning quite a lot, even though the content put him at great unease due to how intense it all was.

The War of Blood and Bone was a war that took place three hundred thousand years ago, being one of the bloodiest conflicts known to dragonkind. Torture ran rampant among both sides of the conflict, including Warfang, and dragons’ body parts were used as bargaining chips for each side. Streets and homes were decorated with body parts of slaves from the other side, and rituals were made with them, due to the belief that the ancestors would strike their enemies down and pull them down to hell. It was barbaric, one of the most barbaric displays since the extinction of the sinister dragons.

The battles in this war were incredibly extreme, ranging from the Eyeless Siege, the Battle of Red Rivers, the Battle of Lost Skeletons, and the Rush over Bone Sea, just to name a few. Forzen was not particularly excited to learn about any of them. The names themselves put him on edge and made him feel sick.

Luckily, the rest of the class went by pretty quickly, putting an end to Forzen’s own torture of sitting through learning about these gruesome events. He knew he would have to come back and learn more about them, but at least now he was able to get a break from it.

As he got up and started to make his way out of the classroom, being the last one out as usual, he paused to look over at Master Hyrath, who was currently packing up his own gear, ready to head back to either his office or the next lesson, he wasn’t sure.

“Um, Master Hyrath?” Forzen asked nervously.

“Yes, Forzen?”

“I just… I wanted to say thank you.”

“No need to. I didn’t do it for you.”

Forzen blinked, confusion washing over him, mixed with a small hint of fear. What would Master Hyrath say to him now that there was no class present? He remembered back to the first time Forzen met the principal, noticing the light of distrust in his eyes.

“To make things clear, I, like many others in this school, still don’t like you or trust you,” the principal explained coldly, causing heavy disappointment to wash over the purple dragon. “I don’t like you being here as much as most of the other dragons in this school, both student and teacher. However, I still need to remain professional, and a teacher, first things first. We are here to teach, just like you are all here to learn.

“Not only that, but I do still have an image to uphold for the school, and that is one of safety for the students here. I do not want stories going around of other students in my school getting beaten, abused, bullied, and targeted, including you. Because I’ve noticed that since you’ve been here, many bullies have been able to get away with a lot more. I’ve heard some of our nullen students are getting targeted a lot more, as well as some of our disabled students. I will not let abuse against you be the start of abuse toward others as well, so I’d prefer if there was none at all.

“On top of that, the fight you got into with Fjor’gand and his group on Xurday, while you were the only one hurt, did put everyone else in the lunch hall at risk. I will not tolerate anyone getting hurt because a fight was picked. Now, I am aware you didn’t retaliate, and that you were trying to stand up for one of our nulls, which I do appreciate, but it was still a fight that didn’t need to happen, and I’d appreciate it if you avoided interacting with those students again.”

“I know, I’m trying. I don’t like being beaten as much as you like the fights happening. I… I am sorry for getting myself involved in that situation on Xurday, though,” Forzen replied.

“Don’t apologise to me,” Master Hyrath shot back. “Apologise to the rest of the lunch hall for endangering them with a potential fight when you got yourself involved and allowed the situation to escalate, knowing you’d fuel their anger even more.

“And one more thing. I know, regarding safety, that most parents and families would be just as concerned of their child’s safety due to you simply existing and being a part of this school. I’m following orders from the guardians, but in turn, taking a big gamble. I don’t know what I’d do if everyone’s suspicions were right and you do turn out to be evil. So I’m entrusting our public image of safety with you as well. Don’t do anything that would put others in harm’s way, and for the ancestors’ sake, be good. Now get out of here, purple dragon. I have places to be, and I know you do too.”

Forzen felt his chest tighten as Master Hyrath began to say the word ‘purple’, convinced that he too would call him a ‘purple devil’. It was actually nice to be called a dragon for once, as weird as it sounded. It definitely beat being called a devil, something he knew he was not.

Making his way to his literature class, he found himself walking past Fjor’gand as they made their way to the same classroom. Forzen tried not to acknowledge Fjor’gand, not wanting to start anything. Ancestors, I hate having to share almost every class I have with this bully, the purple dragon thought. I hate having to run into him between most of these classes.

His thoughts didn’t get much further as Fjor’gand ran up beside him and slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. “Ancestors, can we just get to our classes in peace?” Forzen exclaimed. “Aren’t you sick of picking fights all the time?”

“No and no,” the earth dragon said with a dark sneer. “There will be no peace as long as the enemy is lying right underneath our noses, camping in our very own school. I will pick fights as long as I can, and beat you to a pulp every time, with the hopes that one day I can finally kill you, that one day I can say I killed the Dark Overlord’s devilspawn.”

“I am not your enemy,” Forzen coughed. “Please tell me how I can prove—”

Forzen was cut off as Fjor’gand hit him in the face, before putting his paws around his neck, pinning the purple dragon to the ground and cutting off his air supply. The purple dragon felt his paws reach up and try to pull at Fjor’gand’s, but he wasn’t having much luck. The earth dragon was very strong.

“Another thing, moras’tov: you are not fit to speak or invoke the ancestors’ names. You are not worthy of their time or compassion. They do not even care about you. Not even hell cares about you, you piece of dirt. You’re weak. It’s hilarious for a devilspawn like you.”

“Maybe… I’m purposely not fighting back,” Forzen choked. “I refuse to hurt another dragon. That… is my vow… to the ancestors, and to Warfang.”

Forzen felt his vision go blurry, his throat constricting even more. He was running out of air very quickly. He could barely see how Fjor’gand was reacting to what he had just said through how blurry and dark his vision was becoming.

This is how I die, isn’t it? I die by another kid.

It shocked him how willing he was to accept death, but he would not turn back on his vow to never hurt another dragon. If he was to die upholding that oath, he would. Maybe he was better off dead, so that way Warfang would have one less purple dragon to worry about.

“Fjor’gand, what are you doing?! We’re gonna be late!” a voice from the distance called.

Forzen heard Fjor’gand growling in frustration, before finally letting go of Forzen. Air rushed into his lungs, which were burning from the lack of oxygen. “Fine. You’re off the hook for now, moras’tov. I’m not getting in trouble with Mistress Yorrine for being late again,” Fjor’gand spat, before he ran off in the direction of his friends.

The purple dragon coughed violently, trying to regain his breath properly. He sat up, remaining in that spot for a good minute before standing up. He almost collapsed again, feeling lightheaded from how little air he had just had, but he managed to catch himself as he stumbled forward.

Eventually, he made his way to the classroom, to where the class was already in progress, each student sitting around the classroom continuing to read Siren’s Call , nearing the end of the book. Mistress Yorrine looked up from her desk at the sound of Forzen opening the door, and for the first time outside of marking the roll, she finally spoke to him.

“Three minutes late to class, purple wyrm,” the ice dragoness scowled. “You’re to stay back after school for fifteen minutes.”

Forzen winced; his first session with Cynder was pretty much immediately after school. He couldn’t leave Cynder waiting. The thought of that terrified him. “I’m sorry, I kind of can’t—” Forzen started.

“Backchatting is another five minutes.”

“Can’t I—?”

“That’s another five. Am I clear?”

Forzen just blinked, not expecting her to not even listen to him. His silence seemed to annoy Mistress Yorrine even more. “Answer me, lizard. I can keep adding minutes to your detention as long as I want. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now sit down and read.”

So she’s quiet but has a very short fuse and lots of venom, Forzen thought as he sat down. Now I see why Fjor’gand rushed off instead of actually finishing me off. Ancestors, I just hope Cynder’s understanding of this.

Knowing her, she’ll probably chew your head off for this as well.

Don’t need to rub it in.

You know it’s true.

Forzen fought to keep his frustrated growl in, but was successful. He sat and continued reading, hoping that the day would go by soon so he could sit his detention and then head over to the Warfang Temple to meet up with Cynder for his wind element training.

The class went by relatively quickly, and before long it was lunch time. Forzen, as usual, was one of the last students to leave the classroom, wanting to stay behind everyone. “Hey, purple boy,” Mistress Yorrine called from the other end of the classroom as he made his way out the door.

Forzen turned around with a wince. “Yes, Mistress Yorrine?”

“Head straight back here after school. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

“You better not. Now goodbye.”

Forzen shivered under her cold gaze, before he turned around again and finally made his way out of the classroom. He went to his locker and put his books away, briefly noticing how everyone tried to keep their distance from him, whispering amongst themselves about him. Due to his sound element, he was able to pick up a large majority of what was being said.

“He terrifies me. Why is he even here?”

“It’s only been a week since he started here but it feels like a lifetime.”

“When will they kick that devil-child out?”

“He doesn’t belong here.”

“I don’t know how the guardians let him come here.”

“I heard some of the teachers are protecting him. Do they know what he’s capable of?”

“He could kill us!”

“He’s a purple dragon, he’s strong enough to level the entire school!”

I’m strong but I don’t even have that much power yet, Forzen thought. Besides, I wouldn’t even dream of killing or even hurting anyone here. I don’t know how to prove that to them.

He closed his locker gently, frowning dejectedly before marching sadly to the lunch hall to grab some food. He made his way to the queue to get food and stood in line quietly, not even attempting to talk to anyone else. He was already getting concerned looks from the people in front of him.

“Hey, moras’tov.”

Forzen tried to hold in his frustrated groan. He had already dealt with Fjor’gand today, and he was the reason Forzen now had to spend twenty-five minutes sitting in detention after school, just for being three minutes late and complaining twice. He tried to swallow his anger, knowing that he would do something he would regret if he acted out of it. He wouldn’t respond. Fjor’gand didn’t deserve his attention, particularly not with the way he had been treating him.

He suddenly stumbled forward into the dragon in front of him as Fjor’gand pushed him from behind. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry!” Forzen exclaimed to the dragon in front of him, suddenly terrified as he realised the dragon in front of him was actually Du’ryal.

“Watch it, you purple brat,” the brown dragon snapped. “Push me again and I won’t hesitate to beat your face in. I don’t need elements to beat you to a pulp.”

“I didn’t mean to run into you, I’m sorry.”

Du’ryal rolled his eyes, before he turned back around. Forzen’s heart was racing, particularly as he started to hear Fjor’gand and his friends giggling behind him. He was about to turn around and ask them what they were planning, but he found out long before he could say anything.

Fjor’gand pushed him forward again, hard. Forzen fell with force into Du’ryal, who whirled around with an annoyed growl. “Knock it off, devil!” he snarled, before he delivered a strong punch directly into Forzen’s snout.

Staggering back, Forzen tried his best to keep his balance and prevent himself from collapsing onto the ground, however Du’ryal followed up with his first attack with a swift headbutt to the face. This time, Forzen went down, sprawling out onto the ground as he fell out of the line.

With a groan, Forzen reached up, feeling the front of his face. Blood was dribbling slowly from his nostrils. Coughing, he stood, starting to make his way back into line, before he realised his spot was gone. Fjor’gand and his gang had stepped forward, taking his spot in line. Fjor’gand smirked deviously at Forzen.

“Come on, is this really necessary?” Forzen asked. “I’m just trying to line up for food.”

“Firstly, you acknowledge me when I speak to you, and only when I speak to you. Secondly, you don’t deserve our food. Evil creatures like you should feed on blackened slop,” Fjor’gand snarled. “But if you want our food that badly, you’re going to have to join the back of the line, and who knows, you might still have to fight your way to get food. Or you might just get scraps.”

Forzen frowned. “I’m not evil or blackhearted. I just want some food,” he said.

“Back of the line you go then.”

The purple dragon turned to look at the line, which had gotten over twice as long as it had been when he first stepped into the line. His stomach growled, demanding food. With a bitter sigh, Forzen made his way all the way to the end of the queue.

“Enjoy your scraps!” Fjor’gand teased with a laugh.

Rude bastard, Forzen thought. I’m literally just trying to exist and he goes out of his way to make my life hell.

Eventually, Forzen got back around to the serving table where he finally got some food. It wasn’t scraps, but he was definitely nearing the end of most of the food supply. The meat was a bit smaller and drier than normal, the potatoes were burned and pieces of charcoal came off the bottom of the tray as well, and they were apparently out of gravy, so he had no sauce to go with his meal.

He sat down at his normal table in the back corner of the room, eating his sad meal alone, before he just sat there with nothing to do when he was done. Eventually, the bell rang, and it was time for the next class.

The last two lessons went by smoothly, with Forzen doing his very best to just blend in. He frowned as he left his final class, making his way to his locker to put his books away. At first he felt dread wear down on him as he thought of the training lesson with Cynder this afternoon, but the dread got even worse when he remembered his detention, which would make him significantly late to his training session, which would anger Cynder even more and would probably make her less lenient with him.

This afternoon is going to be hell. Help me ancestors, Forzen thought.

He made his way to Mistress Yorrine’s classroom, knocking on the door once he arrived. “Come in, purple boy,” she said from inside.

“Hi, Mistress Yorrine,” Forzen murmured quietly.

“Now, do you know why you’re here?”

“For being late.”

“And?”

“Umm… I guess I complained?”

“Good. I trust you won’t do either of those again, right?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“No. You won’t do it again. I don’t believe in trying. It’s half-hearted and cowardly, and gives you a reason to back out. Hold yourself to your word. Now let’s try again. I trust you won’t be late or complain in my classroom again?”

“I… I won’t, Mistress Yorrine.”

“Good. Now sit down. Your twenty-five minutes begins now.”

It was the longest, most boring twenty-five minutes that Forzen had ever sat through. He had nothing to do, not even writing lines. A few times throughout the detention, he noticed a few other teenagers walk by the classroom, pointing and laughing at him as they saw him in there. About fifteen minutes into his detention, the pointing and laughing stopped as Mistress Yorrine got up and threatened the kids with their own detention if they continued to be rowdy and rude.

Well, at least this detention doesn’t seem to be a target on me, Forzen thought. She must just like to give out detentions.

By the end of the detention, Mistress Yorrine actually seemed nice to him. She walked up to him once the twenty-five minutes were over, and gave him a soft smile. “Alright, Forzen. Up you get. You’re good to go now,” she said.

“Uhh… thank you,” Forzen stammered, not expecting to actually be called by name.

“Let me guess, you think this was a target on you, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“It has nothing to do with your scale colour or anything. I just do not tolerate people being late to class and disrupting the lesson once it’s started. If you waste my time, I’ll waste your time.”

“I… I understand.”

“Good. Now scram. I have work to do.”

With that, they both left the classroom, and Forzen immediately broke into a sprint, running down the hall and leaving the large building that the classroom was inside. Once he was outside, he spread his wings out and shot into the skies as quick as he could. He needed to save as much time as he could; he’d already wasted twenty-five minutes of Cynder’s time with him.

As much as Forzen now understood Mistress Yorrine’s reasoning behind keeping him back, it was not just his time that she was wasting. She was wasting Cynder’s time as well, and Forzen knew that wasting Cynder’s time was something that one did not do, purely going off what he knew of her. However, Forzen knew if he tried to tell her that he had detention, that Cynder would not believe him for one minute and claim he was making excuses.

It was the truth though, and lying was the last thing he wanted to do, even if he knew Cynder wouldn’t believe him.

He made his way to the Warfang Temple. The guards noticed him approaching the front doors, and they all suddenly got very offensive. “Hey, purple devil. What are you doing here?” one of the guards snarled.

“I’m here for my training session with General Cynder. Please let me in, I’m already late enough as it is,” Forzen said, trying to keep as calm as possible.

“Can we trust you, you evil swine?” the other guard growled. “What if you just want in so you can kill the guardians?”

“I swear, I’m just here for training. Nothing else. Please let me in.”

The guards looked at each other, hesitating. “The General did walk in thirty minutes ago wanting the training room,” the first one whispered.

“Alright, we’ll take you there ourselves,” the second guard said.

“Thank you,” Forzen said with a smile, trying to seem as nice as he could.

“No funny business, understood?”

Maybe his smile came off too nice. Forzen winced, before looking up at the guards and nodding. With a scoff, the second guard turned and opened the door, allowing Forzen in, before he led the purple dragon down the halls towards the training arena. The silence between Forzen and the guard was incredibly uncomfortable, but Forzen also didn’t feel comfortable trying to start a conversation, so he forced himself to tolerate the silence. He wouldn’t even know what to talk about anyway.

Eventually, they arrived at the training arena. The guard opened the doors, and Forzen walked in, suddenly noticing Cynder standing in the middle of the training ring, standing over a bunch of slain fearbringer dummies, blood splattered over the floor and her scales. “There you are. I was wondering if you’d forgotten,” Cynder said, letting the dummies disappear as she walked ominously towards Forzen.

Forzen suddenly realised he was alone as he heard the door slam behind him, and suddenly realised that Muras was also not present in the room. He said he would be here. Where was he?

“Ancestors, you’re half an hour late. Where the hell were you?” Cynder snapped, towering over him as fearbringer blood dripped from her face.

“I had detention because I was late to class,” Forzen explained. “I didn’t mean to be late, I’m sorry, Cynder.”

“ General Cynder,” the dark dragoness corrected sternly. “So you thought that because you were late to class at school you would get to be late to my training session as well, hmm?”

“It wasn’t my decision! I wanted to come here first thing after school but my teacher wouldn’t let me! She gave me more time for trying to explain that I had to be here!”

“I don’t care. You’re here late and so you’re wasting even more of everyone else’s time. Pathetic!”

At that last word, Cynder reached forward and slapped Forzen across the cheek. One of her claws was bent inwards and caught the edge of Forzen’s cheek, leaving behind a thin bleeding line across the left side of his face.

“I’m sorry. Uh, where’s Muras? He told me he was going to be here,” Forzen asked, reaching up to try and wipe the blood off his face.

“He got food poisoning, so he’s at home throwing up. So I guess that means we have each other to ourselves,” Cynder explained, her voice monotone. “And for the record, I don’t think either of us are looking forward to that, so do what I tell you to and we can make this easy for ourselves.”

Why do I feel like she’s still going to make this the worst experience I’ve ever had? Forzen thought, but nodded outwardly. We’ve barely started and she’s already hit me!

“Alright, into the ring and show me what you know of the wind element,” Cynder demanded, walking over to the ring that she was standing in earlier.

“Can I at least get plain straw dummies for this since it’s just a demonstration?” Forzen asked, knowing she would give him live shadowclaws.

“No. You’re not in school now. You’re in training with me. We go for real, even for a demonstration.”

“What about apes?”

“No. You’re getting dark dragons and that’s final. Now get the hell in there and show me what you can do.”

Forzen gulped, before he finally stepped into the arena, making his way towards the middle of it. Cynder didn’t even warn him when the simulation was beginning. Without any prior calls, Forzen watched as the barrier went up and almost immediately two fearbringers appeared in front of him.

Two fearbringers.

Ancestors help me, Forzen thought, feeling his heart start to race, slamming against his chest in an attempt to break free.

It had been quite a while since the last time he felt this much adrenaline, this much fear. Not even escaping Dark Peak and the threat of being caught crushed him with this much fear. This time, he stood staring down the very creatures that terrified him most, with the very dragoness that hated him the most in control of them.

He barely got a second to breathe before the fearbringers launched into action. The first one lunged directly at him, while the second one created five orbs of phantom fright around it, ready to send them shooting towards Forzen. The purple dragon’s eyes were more focused on the orbs of phantom fright floating in the air, hardly giving himself any chance to dodging the tackle from the first fearbringer.

He was slammed into the ground, feeling the fearbringer’s massive paw holding him down as it stood snarling gleefully over the top of him. Forzen noticed its throat start to glow red, and he realised that this fearbringer wasn’t safe too.

Panic filled him, all sense of strategy leaving him entirely. He clawed at the fearbringer’s legs, but it didn’t budge. A screech tore from his throat as sound waves enveloped the fearbringer’s head. It flinched and snarled in pain, but it had less of a reaction than Forzen had hoped for, pushing down with more force as all the air left Forzen’s lungs, putting an end to his deafening screech.

Forzen lay there watching as the large fearbringer above him prepared to use its dreaded siren scream on him. He choked, trying to fight for air but unable to breathe in, the fearbringer keeping his chest in place, unable to expand with air.

He infused his body with lightning as a last resort, before sending it shooting from his chest into the fearbringer’s body. Its front legs wobbled as lightning shot up them, before it collapsed on top of him, before rolling sideways off him, trembling as electricity coursed through its body.

A large gasp overtook Forzen as air rushed back into his lungs, now that all the weight had been taken off his chest. The oxygen burned as he took a huge amount of it in at once, but he was just thankful to have air again.

Suddenly Forzen became very aware of five red orbs shooting towards him from the other fearbringer. He just barely rolled away as the phantom fright orbs slammed into the ground, dissipating with a haunting red mist that rose into the air. Relief washed over him, but not for long as Forzen watched the fearbringer release more phantom fright orbs at him.

Forzen scrambled across the ground, just narrowly being missed once more. Now he tried to stand up, but was immediately thrown off his paws again as the fearbringer swung its tail around and walloped him in the chest, sending him flying back into the invisible barrier around the training ring. He felt himself falling down to the ground after the initial impact with the barrier, but was suddenly aware of the fearbringer lunging at him and slamming its fist into his face in a downward motion, sending him slamming into the ground forcefully.

The purple dragon coughed, spitting up blood. He looked up and immediately rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding a siren scream from the fearbringer that stood over the top of him. He tried to stand but immediately stumbled, watching as the red sound waves from another siren scream shot over his head.

His heart ached as he felt it thumping against his chest faster than it ever had, and he could hear the blood roaring in his ears. His breath was heavy and jagged, his muscles burning. He had never felt so much panic in his life.

Standing up, he turned around and watched as the first fearbringer slowly got to its paws, the second one stepping forward ominously behind it. They both split and walked in separate directions around Forzen, making it hard for him to keep track of both of them.

The one to his left made the first move, lunging towards him with claws outstretched. Using his wind element to propel him sideways, he narrowly dodged the attack, sending the fearbringer crashing into the other one. Now that they were both down on the ground in a tangled mess of black and red limbs, Forzen summoned a tornado around them. The tornado lifted them up in the air and threw them around ferociously, before Forzen sent them flying into the barrier at the other end of the ring.

Forzen leapt into the air above the fearbringers as they slid down to the ground, before he gave a mighty exhale and out came a strong gust of wind aimed at the fearbringers, pushing them even further into the ground. He held them there for a good ten seconds, before he felt himself running out of breath. He stopped, trying to get his breath back, but didn’t get the chance as he saw one of the fearbringers look up and release a siren scream at him.

A panicked scream tore from his throat, before Forzen practically dived into the ground to dodge the attack. He propelled himself down with his wind element, allowing him to shoot down with great speeds in order to dodge the attack. However, it sent him going too fast, and he too slammed into the ground. He groaned with pain, and was very sure he had broken something in his tail or hip.

He got up anyway, watching as the two fearbringers closed the distance between them and him. He stepped back cautiously, waiting for their next move. Forzen wanted to move first, switching to electricity to kill these things, but he wanted to be cautious, since he knew they could attack him with their fear element at any time, and that would not end well.

Sure enough, their throats both started glowing red as siren screams tore from their maws. Forzen used his wind element to propel himself out of the way, only just narrowly doing so. He noticed that the fearbringers were getting much quicker with their attacks, and much more accurate as well. It was getting harder to dodge.

Wanting to try and confuse them, Forzen broke into a sprint, using his wind element to power his movements and speed himself up. He ran circles around them, gradually getting faster and faster until he realised they were struggling to keep track of him. By this point, he called back the wind element propelling him forward, before he leapt into the air from behind the fearbringers, hoping to land on the back of one of them.

However, the fearbringer was quick to notice what was happening, as it whirled around and swung its tail around. This time it was the blade that caught Forzen, and he was sent slamming back into the ground, the tail knocking him down to the ground as a nasty slice tore open his front, running down his left shoulder to the bottom of his chest. It wasn’t too deep, but it was big enough to start bleeding profusely, causing several large droplets of blood to drip rhythmically onto the ground below Forzen.

He cried out in pain, not even wanting to look down to see how bad the wound was. He also knew if he looked down, that would give the fearbringers an opening to attack. He wanted to be the one to make the first attack this time, knowing that the longer he waited, the more he would tire himself out, and the more open he would make himself to their attacks.

Taking a deep breath, he let out another gust of wind from his maw, slamming into the two fearbringers and throwing them off balance. Forzen rushed forward, before leaping high into the air and letting out another strong gust of wind, slamming the fearbringers further into the ground.

The purple dragon landed on top of one of the downed fearbringers, scrambling up towards its head, before digging his claws deep into its temples. The fearbringer snarled in pain, before Forzen guided his lightning element to his claws, sending vicious volts of lightning shooting into the fearbringer’s skull. The black and red dragon screeched in pain, writhing as sparks and crackling bolts of electricity shot out of its head, bursting through scales and flesh as it burned through its skin. Smoke began to rise from its head, and even out of its eye sockets. Suddenly, there was a loud crack as sparks flew everywhere, the lightning searing through its skull and into its brain, destroying the life crystal inside. Red mist joined the smoke rising from its head as the fearbringer slumped to the ground, dead.

In the time it took for Forzen to kill the fearbringer, the other one had finally recovered, standing up and turning towards Forzen with a snarl on its face. It opened its maw, which glowed bright red, and a siren scream tore from its throat. Forzen noticed the fearbringer just in time, only barely dodging the horrid red sound waves pulsing towards him. He ducked, before rolling off the dead fearbringer, trying to get away.

Another siren scream narrowly missed him, and Forzen counteracted with his own sound attack, a loud screech tearing from his lungs as violent, pulsating indigo sound waves enveloped the fearbringer. It howled in pain, reaching up to its ears and staggering backwards, disoriented and in agony.

Knowing Forzen had the fearbringer in a death trap, and not wanting to prolong the fight anymore, he used this moment to do what he had when he demonstrated the sound element to the guardians. Increasing the power behind his shriek, he watched as the sound waves became more violent and angry, the volume inside the beam of sound growing exponentially louder. The fearbringer let out a cry of agony, before shooting out another siren scream. It was so disoriented that the siren scream was aimed in a completely different direction than Forzen was.

Forzen watched as dark red blood poured from the fearbringer’s ear holes, before red mist also began to rise from its ears. The sound attack is affecting the crystal inside its head! Maybe this could be another way to exploit the dark dragons’ weaknesses! Forzen thought.

The purple dragon intensified the attack even further, before there was a similar sounding crack as before, and the fearbringer slumped over, dead, red mist billowing from its ear holes, which now had rivers of blood streaming from them.

“You used your wind element, I’ll give you that, but I didn’t ask you for your other ones,” Cynder deadpanned, disappointment dripping from her voice; as she said this, the barrier around the ring disappeared, as did the two fearbringer corpses. “The whole point of this was to show me what you can do with your wind element.”

“I’m sorry, I panicked,” Forzen whimpered, curling in on himself as he turned around to look at Cynder. “I don’t… I don’t do well with fearbringers.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Um…”

Flashes of distorted, warped images tinted red rushed through Forzen’s vision. He felt his chest tighten.

“Nothing. It… it’s fine,” Forzen stammered.

“Then I bet you wouldn’t complain if I gave you more to fight against… right here, right now,” Cynder challenged.

“NO!” the purple dragon screamed.

“Then spit it out,” Cynder snarled, her eyes gleaming with hatred and contempt.

“I… During my time in Dark Peak, fearbringers brought the worst pain onto me out of all of Spyro’s dark dragons. I’ve seen and experienced horrors I wouldn’t even wish on the bullies at school from them. Please, I don’t want to fight any more of them.”

Cynder frowned, deep in thought, before she let out a low growl. “Fine. But only for today. I’ll be putting you up against more, I can promise you that, whelp,” Cynder snarled. “Now, about your wind element, I still need you to demonstrate to me everything you can do with it.”

“Well, luckily I think that’s about everything I can do with it: just very simple breath attacks and a little bit of tornado summoning. I can also use small bursts of wind to launch me forward, but yeah… that’s about it.”

“You’re serious? That’s it ? You are a purple dragon for ancestors’ sakes, and that was all you could show me of your wind element? That pathetic display of wind magic is what a purple dragon holds? I should be grateful that you aren’t as powerful as I thought you were, but really I’m annoyed. I’m disappointed, and I’m mad. Because now I’m expected to teach you even more, and what use are you to us if you can’t even use magic?”

“I’m still learning, Cyn—”

Cynder roared angrily at him.

“—General Cynder,” Forzen corrected himself, cowering in fear as Cynder glared daggers at him. “I haven’t had anyone teach me this element yet! I only am more skilled with lightning because I’ve had Muras teach me! Sure I had Jaarsol trying to teach me but she wasn’t a wind dragon; this was basically all she was able to help me learn while not knowing a thing about the element herself!”

“That doesn’t explain your knowledge on the sound element,” Cynder shot back.

“I know. I don’t know why I’m so strong with it. Maybe I’m more naturally talented with it? Can that happen with purple dragons? Just a more natural talent in one particular element over another? I don’t know! Maybe the sound element’s just that much stronger? I don’t know how it works! I don’t know how any of my magic works!”

“Fine. I’ll teach you then, if that’s what you really want,” Cynder snapped, although Forzen could tell there were other thoughts running around in her brain, thoughts that he may never know. “And for the record, don’t you dare yell at me like that or I’ll beat you to a pulp, heal you up with red gems, and then beat you again. You hear me?”

“Yes, General Cynder.”

“Now, the thing with the wind element is you can’t just rely on your own breath to using it. Your breath has a limit. Using only your breath, you are forced to stop once you have nothing left in your lungs, and then you find yourself trying to regain your breath and wasting time in the middle of a fight, opening you up to possible injuries. That was what happened in that fight just then,” Cynder explained. “Now, what is around you?”

“Um… a building?”

Cynder reached forward and slapped Forzen across the face. “ Air , you wyrm!” Cynder growled. “ Air is around you, all around you. A limitless supply of it. A wind dragon can connect to it, bend the air to their will, make it do what they want it to do. You could use the wind element to lift something up into the air, keep yourself flying without using your wings, make you fly at impossibly fast speeds, conjure up massive tornadoes and wind currents, and more.”

“Oh…”

“‘Oh’ is right, you stupid whelp! I thought you would have known better, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Hey, I wasn’t even taught by someone who knew the wind element, okay? Jaarsol and I were both learning as we—”

Forzen was hit across the face again, this time with claws. He was sent sprawling to the ground, three large gashes covering his face as her claws flashed across his flesh. Thin beads of blood dripped down his face. He winced as he fell, landing on the large bloody gash running down his shoulder and chest.

“I know that. I’m calling you stupid, not her. You’re the one with the wind element. You should be able to feel the air all around you.”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“Then learn.”

“Then teach me!”

“I want you to figure it out for yourself. No better teacher than experience. If you still can’t figure it out by then, then I’ll give you the answer.”

Cynder stepped back and the barrier reappeared around the ring. Forzen looked around in horror, before he leapt up against the barrier and slammed against it with his fists. “Hey, let me out! At least let me heal myself before throwing myself into another fight!” Forzen pleaded.

“No. You’ll live. I’ve given you enough lenience in going along with your wishes to not use fearbringers. So, I’ll give you three shadowclaws instead. Go.”

“WHAT?!”

This is so unfair, what did I do to deserve this? Forzen thought as he whirled around and watched three shadowclaws materialise in front of him.

The shadowclaws rushed forward, and Forzen was forced to leap out of the way of their attacks, dancing around them as quickly as he could, knowing that these dark dragons were very fast and very aggressive with their physical attacks.

As he jumped around, he slipped, sliding around as he tried to regain his balance. Due to losing control of his body, he was unable to dodge the next attack as a shadowclaw swung its long, lethal claws around, catching him across the other side of his face, drawing several long, vicious cuts across his face, mirroring Cynder’s scratches running down his other cheek.

Spitting blood from his mouth, he leapt backwards as the large black and purple dragon lunged at him, swiping at his face again. He used a gust of wind from his maw to send the shadowclaw flying backwards into the other two behind it, sending the three of them sprawling onto the ground, writhing about as their limbs tangled around each other. Angry snarls rose from each of the shadowclaws as they tried to untangle themselves.

Forzen stood back, trying to use this very brief downtime to try and figure out what Cynder was wanting him to learn. He tried to focus, tried to reach out to feel the air around him, but he was struggling to do so under pressure. Usually Muras would tell him to close his eyes to truly focus, but he was being thrown into the ring against three horribly deadly opponents. He couldn’t afford to take his eyes off them.

He barely got a couple of seconds to attempt to connect with the air around him as the shadowclaws resorted to their shadow elements, each one of them diving into their shadows and then leaping up into the air all around Forzen. The purple dragon felt his chest lurch with fear as shadow fire built up in all three of the shadowclaws’ throats. Using his wind element, he launched himself forward to dodge the attack. He barely dived out of the way as the dark shadow fire slammed down onto where he was once standing, a large black inferno rising into the air. For a brief moment, the shadowclaws appeared confused as to where Forzen had gone.

The purple dragon tried to reach out again, but barely felt anything. He didn’t get much of a chance to readjust anything this time either, the shadowclaws bursting into action almost immediately after getting over their confusion.

For a good few minutes, he let the shadowclaws gang up on him constantly, before dodging out of the way as they all tried to attack him at once, trying to use these brief moments to feel the air around him, but with the extra stress and adrenaline, and the threat of potentially being killed by these dark beasts, he was struggling to focus.

Eventually, the shadowclaws caught onto his strategy, and so they proceeded to all take turns attacking him, leaving Forzen without a window to feel the air around him.

“General Cynder, I can’t do this with so much going on! What happened to normal training?!” Forzen pleaded.

“This is normal training,” came Cynder’s reply.

“For skilled fighters in the army, maybe! I’m trying to learn an element here!”

“This is your normal training. As long as you’re in a session with me, this is your normal. Get used to it.”

Forzen was ready to fire back another complaint, before he was slammed in the head with a heavy paw, sending him sliding across the ground. A shadowclaw leapt on top of him and with a devilish grin, opened its maw ready to bite down around his neck and snap it into two.

As much as I hate to be on Cynder’s bad side, she won’t kill me. She won’t be allowed to. She’ll get in trouble for it, Forzen thought. These things on the other paw, won’t hesitate to kill me. Cynder would pass it off as an accident. I don’t care if I make Cynder mad, I’d much rather kill these things and get out of here.

With that, he let electricity flow throughout his body. He fired the lightning up into the shadowclaw’s paws as it pinned him to the ground. The shadowclaw screeched in pain, reeling backwards and freeing Forzen from its grasp. The purple dragon stood up, before leaping high into the air and grabbing a firm hold of the shadowclaw’s throat, digging his claws in. Lightning surged through his claws into the shadowclaw’s body, before frying it from the inside out. There was a crack, and the shadowclaw went limp, smoke and purple mist rising from its neck wounds.

“No more lightning! We’re here to learn wind, damn it!” Cynder scolded.

I can’t while I’m in this ring fighting these monsters, Forzen thought with a scowl.

Forzen then dealt with the other two shadowclaws swiftly, ending them in the same way as he had the first. He dropped down to the ground, breathing heavily, as the three shadowclaw corpses dissipated. The barrier around the ring also disappeared.

The purple dragon’s breath halted when he saw Cynder storming towards him, anger in her eyes. “You dare disobey me?” she roared, before clawing him across the face yet again, digging into the wounds already there.

Forzen staggered backwards, crying out in pain. Every inch of his face burned with agony, blood dripping down his face as his cuts ran across the length of his snout and cheeks. Cynder lashed out again, catching him over the eye. It wasn’t deep enough to cut out his eye, but the wound was still pretty deep. Blood flooded over his eye, and he was forced to keep it closed to keep blood out of his eye.

“I was more concerned about life or death than trying to feel for air, I’m sorry!” Forzen exclaimed.

“You’re not sorry.”

“Okay, you’re right! I’m not! I can’t focus on trying to learn while I’m fighting for my life in there!”

Cynder’s eyes shone with bloodlust. Forzen was terrified she would rip his throat out. Instead, she just stared at him, before he suddenly felt a strong constricting weight around him. Confusion filled him, as Cynder had not moved from where she stood a few metres in front of him.

That was until he realised what she was doing: she was increasing the air pressure around him.

His heart fought to keep blood pumping throughout his body, the pressure proving the task more of a challenge now. Moving was hard. His head spun. “Stop it, please,” Forzen pleaded, suddenly finding even talking and breathing hard. “Help…”

The purple dragon collapsed to the ground, his vision blurry and chest hurting. Cynder kept him there, lying on the ground in agony, for what felt like hours but in reality was just a few seconds.

Eventually, the air pressure around him returned to normal. He felt normal air rush into his lungs, and freedom return to his joints. Everything felt so light around him compared to the crushing heaviness he had felt around him for the past few moments.

“We’re done here. Go home,” Cynder said, before turning and walking off.

“But… I didn’t learn anything!”

“Then that’s your own problem. Maybe instead of doing whatever the hell you want and start zapping things left, right and centre, you actually listen to me and do what I’m telling you to,” Cynder scowled. “I’m done for today.”

“But…”

“Go. Home.”

With that, Cynder dove into her shadow, before she was gone. Forzen sighed dejectedly, before he stood up and limped his way back to Muras’ house, leaving through the front doors of the Warfang Temple, only to have more rude jeers thrown at him from the guards standing at the entrance.

I feel awful, Forzen thought. I hate all of this: school, learning my elements, living here… it’s all horrible. No one treats me like an actual dragon, except for Muras and Master Almai. And maybe Uncle Aerus. That’s it… and it’s kinda sad. Why does everyone go out of their way to hate me when they don’t even know me yet?

Forzen walked dejectedly back home, making sure not to make any eye contact or interact with anyone. All the way back, he felt his face and torso burning with agony, the cold breeze of the early evening rushing past him. It crossed his mind that he could spend this time trying to feel the air around him properly, particularly with it being so active, but it was the last thing he wanted to do right now, particularly with his current physical state. Besides, he was out in the middle of the Warfang streets; he didn’t feel safe stopping right there and trying to work on his elements.

Eventually, the young purple dragon made it home. He walked inside and was greeted to the sound of Muras retching in the bathroom from his food poisoning. Forzen groaned to himself; he was going to go there to wash his face and chest free from the blood, but now he had to wait even longer.

He looked down, looking over the massive gash running from his shoulder and across his chest. Streaks of dark red covered his beige chest scales, starting to dry up and become hard and crusty over the top of his body. He winced, knowing his face was probably in a similar situation; he could almost feel the blood hardening on his face.

With a huff, Forzen turned and made his way back to his room. He just sat down, not even wanting to grab a book and read. He laid down on the ground and did nothing. He would have laid down on his bed to wait but he didn’t want to get half-dried blood all through his bed, or fresh blood if he accidentally re-opened his wounds.

He didn’t know how long he was lying there for before there was a knock at his door. “Hey, Forzen, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your training session, but…” Muras started, before he cut himself off as he opened Forzen’s door and saw his bloodied state. “What… what happened?”

“Cynder happened,” Forzen murmured.

“Wait, she did this to you?”

“Half of it was her, but it may as well have been all her. She made me fight fearbringers and shadowclaws today, and expected me to just… learn the new techniques on the spot instead of properly teaching me.”

“What? How was this allowed to happen? I thought Torialis was supposed to be with you!”

“No. No one else was there.”

“But I sent Cynder a message telling her to have Torialis supervise in my absence! Did… Did she purposefully not get him there so she could do this to you?”

“I don’t know. This is the first I’m hearing of someone else outside of you being there.”

“Ancestors, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry this happened. I’m… angry and appalled that Cynder used this situation to get at you like this.”

“Sounds almost too coincidental.”

“She wasn’t the one to give me food poisoning, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Her poison’s too lethal for that; I would have died by now if she had. Besides, it was my fault for suggesting to Aerus that we try a new place for breakfast. I’m never going back there again.

“But that aside, I need to have a stern talk with Cynder, and maybe fill Torialis in on this as well. I can’t let this happen again. It’s straight up child abuse.”

“Don’t think she sees it that way,” Forzen murmured. “I think she sees me as a demon, just like everyone else. She didn’t call me ‘devil’ or ‘demon’ like everyone at school does, but I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to call me that. I’m surprised she didn’t just say it honestly.”

“That name-calling is still happening?”

“It’s been a week, Muras. It’s not going to magically stop over the course of one day. Besides, with half of the teachers also hating me and going out of their way to make life hard for me, I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon.”

“How the hell are we going to make them realise that you’re not a devil?”

“I don’t know. Don’t care honestly. I gave up caring ages ago. I’ve come to accept that even though it hurts to be called those names, I will never be able to make them see me as anything else than Spyro’s little devilspawn. The name-calling does beat the violence though.”

“Violence? Don’t tell me you got beaten again…”

“I got choked at school. I swear I was about to die. I’ve never been that long without breath before.”

“Forzen…”

“I don’t want your pity. Just leave me alone. Especially with your vomit breath.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Did… did you want me to bring red gems for you?”

“No. I’m fine. Leave me alone, please.”

Muras looked at Forzen with sorrow in his eyes, before he nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Forzen sat there alone for about an hour before he decided it was probably a good idea to wash his wounds off. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

Forzen came to a stop in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. His face looked awful . The wounds looked almost black with the way the thick blood had crusted over the wounds, and his cheeks were stained with dried red streaks. The cut over his left eye that Cynder had gifted him had also hardened up, and with the blood running down his face from the cut, it looked as if he had been crying blood. His flesh was red and swollen under the wounds and torn scales. His chest didn’t look any better than his earlier looks at it.

He turned on the water and began to run his paws underneath the running water. He started with his face first, reaching up with both of his paws which dripped with cool water. The moment he touched his cheeks, he jerked backwards from his own paws, hissing in pain as his wounds burned with pain again, his gentle touch against the raw flesh meaning nothing to the wild gashes across his face.

Biting his tongue, he tried again. He flinched once more as he touched his face. Trying one more time, he reached up to softly touch his cheeks. He was accustomed to the pain now, so began to rub gently, trying to free his face from the dried, crusty blood. He spent a few seconds wiping his cheeks, before he took his paws away and looked at them. The pristine water covering his paws was now a soft, murky red, and as he put his paws back into the running water coming out of the tap, he watched as rivers of cloudy red water washed out of his paws.

He repeated the process again after he had washed the bloodied water off his paws, reaching up with freshly wet paws and softly wiping his face, running his paws over his cheekbones, his temples, and then with a fresh set of water, over his eye and back over his cheeks again. He had to go over his face several times, as washing his wounds and rubbing them irritated them slightly, causing small beads of fresh blood to trickle down his face, although it was luckily not as much as it had been before.

Without the thick layer of drying blood covering his face, the cuts didn’t look as bad, although they were still pretty deep and jagged, particularly the ones Cynder left over his eye. The flesh was raw and red, and Forzen had a deep hunch that these wounds would scar. Maybe red gems weren't such a bad idea after all.

Once Forzen’s face was clean, he repeated the entire process with his chest wound. Like his face, he flinched a few times before being able to actually start rubbing water over his wound, his chest not used to the contact the same way his face was. Eventually, he was able to clean it up, leaving it at a similar state to the wounds on his face.

The purple dragon turned off the water, before looking at himself in the mirror one more time. He hated how he looked. The wounds were awful to look at; just the sight of them made him hate himself even more.

I know I don’t deserve this, but what if I do? Forzen thought, his thoughts going dark once more. What if this is punishment for something that happens in the future? Everyone says I’m going to be like Spyro. It’s the last thing I want, and I will do anything to prevent that, but… what if it does happen? Is that why I’m getting all this hate and abuse? Will I do something bad?

What have I done to deserve any of this? All I want is to live a normal life where I can just be me. I want to live a life where I don’t have to be the son of the Dark Overlord, the purple devilspawn… I want to life a life where I don’t have to be a purple dragon… a damned moras’tov . I don’t want any of this.

Forzen almost felt himself shed tears as he spoke the word ‘moras’tov’ over himself in his mind. Since learning about the meaning of the word, he’d never spoken it over himself before. But now after calling himself that… it brought a new level of hurt to it that he didn’t think was possible.

No. No, don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare even think about shedding one damn tear, Forzen thought, reaching up and flashing his claws above his right eye. There is no crying here. Not now, not ever . Even if you get called that… that horrible insult.

Forzen raked his claws down his face again at the reminder of the word, before growling in frustration as he watched fresh blood drip down the right side of his face. I just cleaned that… he thought, before he turned on the water and got back to washing his face.

Luckily, it wasn’t as painful to clean the blood off this time, as the wounds were much thinner than the ones Cynder and the dark dragons had left, but they still stung an awful amount.

He finished cleaning his face, turning off the tap and immediately walking out of the bathroom. He wouldn’t entertain the thought of looking at his scratched-up face in the mirror again. He wouldn’t entertain the thought of adding to the scratches any more than he already had. He went straight back to his room.

Forzen was about to shut the door behind him, before he turned around and called down the hallway, “Muras?”

“Yes, Forzen?”

“Can you bring me some red gems?”

“Sure thing. I’ll just be a moment.”

“Leave them at the door please. Just… I want to be left alone tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

Forzen then turned back into his room, closing the door behind him and instantly making his way to the bookshelf. At this point, reading was the only thing getting his mind off being choked by Fjor’gand at school, getting beaten and abused by Cynder, the horrible gashes covering his body, and the thought of adding more gashes to his body. All he wanted was to get swallowed up by another world and not have to think about what was going on in this world.

His attention on the book was briefly interrupted by Muras knocking on the door and telling him that the red gems were sitting outside. Forzen got up, grabbed the small stash of red gems, before breaking them over his body. He felt the wounds close up, but as he looked down over his chest, he noticed a small lump in his flesh where the wound was.

I guess that wound’s scarring, Forzen thought as he reached up to his face. And the one over my eye Cynder gave me. Thanks ancestors for leaving me with permanent reminders that my own mother wants me dead and will do anything to draw out my suffering.

He scoffed, before he sat back down at his book and continued to read through the majority of it, reading until late in the night before he decided it was getting late and he should sleep.

He dreaded to think about what tomorrow would bring, particularly since the days never seemed to get any better.

Chapter Text

“Muras? Come in,” Torialis said, waving Muras into his office. “You’re lucky you caught me at a bit of a quiet time in my busy day today. What did you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Forzen’s training sessions with Cynder,” Muras said, stepping in and closing the door behind him, before taking a seat across the table from Torialis.

“Oh yeah, I think his first one with her was on Vielday, am I right? How did it go?”

“It… didn’t go well at all. I had to pull out from supervising because I got food poisoning on Vielday morning. I had originally told Cynder to have you take my place while supervising, but to my knowledge, she never came to you about it.”

The earth guardian looked at Muras with narrow eyes as he spoke. “No. No, she didn’t,” Torialis murmured. “Muras, what happened?”

“I think Cynder purposefully ‘forgot’ to inform you about this so she could have Forzen all to herself without supervision. And as you can probably imagine, she abused him. Badly.”

“Go on.”

“Well… Forzen hasn’t told me all of the details, but she hit and clawed him across the face a few times during the session, and also put him in the ring with multiple dark dragons at once, the first fight being two fearbringers and the second being three shadowclaws. She also barely taught him anything. From what he told me, she proceeded to give him vague tips and then throw him into the ring and have him figure out these new techniques all on his own, in the middle of an intense fight where he didn’t have time to stop and try and figure out what he needed to do. On top of that, Cynder would proceed to get angry at him and claw him again when he disobeyed her and used his other elements to keep himself alive in the fight. I never saw the extent of the wounds until after Forzen had asked for red gems, but even after that, the wounds had scarred. I shudder to think about how bad they were before all that.”

“So you’re telling me she abused him and didn’t even teach him anything? This was just an excuse to abuse him and not get in trouble for it.”

“I think so too. You’ve seen the way Cynder looks at him.”

“Yes. It scares even me. I wouldn’t want to be in Forzen’s position, being alone with her, subject to her wrath. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll have a chat with her later this afternoon,” Torialis said, before grabbing a piece of parchment and beginning to write up a summons message to Cynder. “While you’re here, is there anything else you wish to disclose regarding Forzen to me? Any other progress with his education and social standing? Anything… out of the ordinary… that we need to be aware of?”

“In terms of suspicious activity, absolutely nothing. I truly believe he’s a good, benevolent kid with no ulterior intentions. His education’s going well too; he’s learning things, and his reading and writing has gotten much better over the last week and a half that he’s been attending school,” Muras explained. “As for his social standing, it’s not getting any better.”

“How so?”

“He gets beaten at school as well. He’s bullied almost constantly, called names like ‘devil’ and… and ‘moras’tov’... I’ve talked to one of Forzen’s teachers last week too; he does nothing to try and stop it or stand up for himself. Forzen just… he just takes it.”

“So he’s just getting abused left, right and centre, isn’t he?”

“Pretty much.”

Torialis groaned, rubbing his forehead with a large paw. He folded up the message to deliver to Cynder, before putting the guardians’ wax seal over the top of it. “I shall have a talk with Hyrath as well to see what we can do about the school situation for Forzen. I might get the other teacher you talked with into the conversation as well, since it seems like he knows a deal more about what’s going on with Forzen at school than you do. Which teacher was it?” Torialis asked.

“It was Master Almai.”

“Is he on good terms with Forzen?”

“I don’t know about good terms, but he’s on better terms than some of the other teachers by what it seems like. Master Almai actually does care for Forzen, which is more than I think his other teachers can say. He’s one of the only ones who hasn’t gone out of their way to chastise him, but he’s also one of the only ones to actually try and connect with him.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’ll organise a meeting with them either tomorrow or over the weekend. In the meantime, I’ll organise for Cynder to be here so I can talk to her about how she handled her training session. Would you be able to come along as well, around the thirteenth hour maybe?”

“I’d much rather prefer not to be. I can only take so much angry Cynder, and given the subject matter is Forzen, I think it’ll be too much angry Cynder for me. Particularly since I’m the one dobbing her in…”

“Okay, that’s understandable. I’m more than happy to do it alone; I just wanted to check if you wanted to be there since you are Forzen’s current caretaker.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. Anyway, I’d… I’d better head to the library. My shift starts soon.”

“I understand. Thanks for letting me know about this. You’re dismissed.”

With that, Muras stood and left, leaving Torialis alone. How is all this going so horribly? Torialis thought with a shake of his head. I know Cynder is an angry person with lots of hate in her heart, but I didn’t expect her to become so abusive. All these years in the military fighting this war has hardened her up too much, I think.

Shaking his head, he let out a low sigh, before he stood and grabbed the letter to Cynder. He made his way out of his office and down the hallway. He eventually stopped at the postage office in the front wing of the Temple, dropping off the letter. “Take this to Cynder now. Urgent,” Torialis ordered, before turning around and making his way to the meeting room.

He walked in, noticing he was the last one in the room for the meeting. Around the centre table sat the other three guardians, as well as Derilan, who was now the representative of the feline tribes, a mole named Malcolm, who was the representative for the moles, and a vixen named Lavie, the fox representative. This was a meeting that happened every month where the guardians and the representatives for the other tribes living in Warfang had what was like a wellbeing check, to make sure the citizens of Warfang were thriving, and to see if there were any improvements that could be made to the city.

This meeting was something relatively new that had been started by Ignitus and Terrador, the two eldest of the previous set of guardians. In the guardianship training they had, Torialis had been instructed by Ignitus to keep this meeting going, knowing it was an important, beneficial meeting that kept the city running to its best capacity. Of course, most meetings were discussing the unrest amongst the citizens about the current raging war, alongside a few other issues, conflicts, updates, and news, but today’s meeting would prove to look a little different due to one major change in the city over the last three weeks.

“Good morning, all. Sorry I’m late. I had a quick visit from Muras today,” the earth guardian said, before sitting down between Ash and Frélix. “Now, let’s review the state of Warfang. How is everything going?”

“I mean, tensions have been running at an all time high for the last three weeks,” Frélix murmured. “Forzen’s sudden appearance has got many dragons on edge, and many are very fearful that he’s a spy.”

“It’s not just dragons either,” Derilan added. “Many of us felines are very concerned too, particularly after that purple dragon’s father wiped out the cheetah village. There’s only a small amount of us cheetahs left here in Warfang, and scattered throughout the rest of the continent, and I know the ones here are very concerned. They’re asking for him to be killed. The panthers, leopards and tigers are also advocating for the death of the purple whelp.”

“The foxes are also extremely on edge. As a tribe, we’ve taken several hits from the evil purple dragons, starting with Malefor, and now with Spyro. Spyro’s last attack on us three years ago is the whole reason us foxes are even seeking refuge here, after all. Spyro killed our elders and destroyed our dens. He is the reason most of our children are dead, and we have very little of the next generation here with us now.”

“I concur,” Malcolm added. “The addition to Forzen living in our city has brought as much unrest to the moles as it has with the felines, foxes, and dragons. A few of us remember how badly Warfang was decimated near the end of the Dark War under Malefor’s watch. Even more of us remember how much Spyro decimated Warfang before, during, and after Armageddon.”

“Okay, is there anything else that needs to be brought up? We can touch base on Forzen later once we go through everything else that needs to be reported, since it will probably take up most of our meeting,” Torialis suggested.

“There is nothing else to discuss!” Lavie snapped, standing up in her chair and slamming her paw onto the table. “Every single one of us has said that the existence of Forzen is the number one source of unrest amongst all of our tribes! We never even had a meeting with you guys about him being let in! He just appeared, and was apparently ‘allowed in’ by the guardians! He is Spyro’s son ! Shouldn’t that be of any concern to you?!”

“Trust me, we all talked together about it, with Cynder and Muras also in the room, and did a sanity check on Forzen ourselves. We trust him,” Torialis said, before stealing a glance at Frélix, who was glaring at him. “For the most part, at least.”

“That brings up another question, why is Muras still allowed to be here?!” Lavie continued. “By the gods, he is Malefor! How insane do you think that is, that we are housing both Malefor and Spyro’s son here inside Warfang?! Have purple dragons not already done enough to prove that they can’t be trusted here?! Have purple dragons not already proved that they are devilspawn?! Why are we keeping them here?!”

“Firstly, you can’t blame us for Muras. He was here and accepted by Warfang long before we came back from guardian training,” Ash said softly. “Secondly, Muras was purified by the ancestors and sent back to us for a greater purpose: to mentor Forzen and teach him the ways of good. He’s here for a reason, and Forzen is here to learn good ways, rather than being raised under the evil of Spyro.”

“Tsavarok!” Lavie cursed, slamming the table again.

“Lavie, calm down,” Malcolm said cautiously.

“No, I will not! These guardians are actively keeping us threatened by the purple dragons, who are sitting around waiting for the perfect time to kill us off! They’ve gaslighted themselves into believing their lies that the purple dragons here are trying to do good, and that their so called ancestors are behind Malefor’s return!”

“You dare blaspheme against the ancestors?” Frélix threatened, icy mist rising from his mouth and nose.

“Frélix, enough,” Lagenon snapped, trying to keep his fellow guardian under control.

“You don’t control me, lightning breath! She’s insulting our way of life!”

“FRÉLIX!” Torialis roared, causing silence to fill the room. “Control yourself, please.”

Frélix let out a low growl before snorting, icy mist billowing from his nostrils. Torialis glared at Frélix, before turning to Lavie. “That goes for you too, Lavie. Let’s try and remain civil here, for the love of our ancestors, gods and spirits,” Torialis said, receiving a dark glare from Lavie, before she sunk back in her seat with a huff.

“Torialis, I understand that you believe your ancestors sent Malefor… Muras… back here under a mission for good, and that they purified him. But look at this from our perspectives,” Malcolm explained gently. “As much as we are willing to respect draconic culture and religion, we do not believe in the same spirits as you. We don’t believe in your ancestors. Therefore, it is hard for us to believe that your ancestors were the ones to bring him back, and that he’s supposed to be good now that he’s been in contact with them. We don’t know if we can trust that, because we don’t believe in the draconic ancestors.”

“We may have gotten more used to Muras over the years, but it still hasn’t stopped the distrust towards him,” Derilan added. “However, with Forzen being added to the picture, it’s just created more concern. Two purple dragons together can’t mean anything good. Even if Muras is good, what about Forzen? What if Forzen is somehow influencing Muras back to the dark side? Torialis, the purple dragons have done harm to all of us as well, but especially towards the dragons. If there’s this much unrest in our own tribes… how bad is it amongst the dragons?”

Torialis turned to his fellow guardians, they all looked at each other, waiting for someone to respond. It was Frélix who spoke. “While we haven’t had a public violent outburst like there was on Forzen’s fourth day here, I have noticed lots of people are scared and hateful towards Forzen. They want him dead. No one trusts him. I know why we kept him here, but… is it really a good choice to allow him to stay here?” the ice guardian said. “No one should be living in fear day in, day out, and we’ve had enough of that without Forzen here. Paranoia runs rampant now. It’s not good for the city and its civilians, Torialis. The unrest is real bad.”

“Okay, so why haven’t I heard of any of this?” Torialis asked.

“From the people who have talked to me about it, they say they only feel comfortable approaching me. I’m sure it’s no secret that I was the least willing to go along with our decision, so I think they wanted to come to me about it.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me about this? We could have been brainstorming how to help with the unrest long before now.”

“I was going to; I’ve been fighting back and forth on whether to tell you earlier or to wait until this meeting when everyone is here.”

“Really, Frélix? This is important information that all of us guardians should know!” Lagenon scolded. “We can’t help Warfang if we don’t know what the problems are! How are we supposed to provide solutions and aid if we don’t know what everyone’s complaints are?”

“I’m sorry!” Frélix snapped. “Can we just… focus on trying to find a solution instead of getting angry at me, please?”

“I agree. There’s more productive things we could be doing than scolding Frélix for not telling us something, even if it is something as important as this,” Ash said. “Now, is there anything we can do to help people trust Muras and Forzen a bit more, and ease the concerns and especially the hatred towards them?”

“Last week, Muras came to me about updating some of the history records and textbooks regarding his past and his experiences during the Dark War. He thinks that maybe the truth would help people understand who he truly is and what actually happened,” Torialis explained.

“And do tell what those events were. I for one would like to know more about this ‘Muras’,” Lavie said darkly.

“Well, the main one is that his corruption was not by choice. It was forced onto him as a child, through the power of the Well of Souls. Growing up, this dark energy he absorbed slowly got a stronger hold on him, before it turned him into who we know now as Malefor.”

“You expect us to believe that? Are you sure he wouldn’t just make that up?”

“Why would he need to do that? What exactly would he get out of that?” Torialis challenged.

“Lulling Warfang into a false sense of security. He’ll make us feel secure enough with him that he’ll turn on us when we least expect it and throw us back into darkness. He’ll turn back to darkness with Spyro and bring Forzen with him. Having three purple dragons in this world is dangerous, Torialis. Can’t you see that?”

“Having a purple dragon on our side is also an asset,” Lagenon interjected. “Purple dragons are powerful creatures. Having both Muras and Forzen on our side could help turn the tides of the war.”

“How do you know they won’t just turn back to darkness?” Lavie scowled.

“That’s the risk we have to take. We needed a purple dragon to win the war against Malefor. Spyro is significantly stronger than Malefor was. He will need a purple dragon again.”

“I would prefer not to intentionally weaponise him,” Torialis explained. “I like to think that’s part of what caused Spyro to turn. He was forced to fight and taught to kill at a very young age by the previous guardians, and I think that got the gears going for what’s happening now. Despite his claims that he’s doing this for the greater good, I think violence is the only way he knows how to address major problems going on, because that’s all he was taught from other dragons as a child.

“I do agree that Forzen is an asset in this war, I’d prefer him to want to fight on his own accord. I want to train him as a matter of self-defense if he is thrown into a fight against his will, such as in a siege, rather than force him to be offensive and kill, kill, kill, like the last guardians did with Spyro. I’d feel more comfortable giving him a good reason to fight rather than just making him fight. Even though he’s strong and very powerful and could help turn the tides of this war, he is still a dragon like the rest of us. He is still a child . And like all the children here, they deserve to be protected with every ounce of our power.”

“He’s a purple child,” Lavie snarled.

“Lavie. I think that’s enough,” Derilan murmured.

“What?! I’m surprised you’re sticking up for that purple whelp, particularly after what his devil of a father did to you, your home, and your family!”

“Forzen had nothing to do with the destruction of my home and the death of my father! That whelp would have been barely a few weeks old by the time the cheetah village was burned to the ground and my father slaughtered by the Dark Overlord.”

“I actually can’t believe you’re standing up for that whelp.”

“I don’t know if I am or if I am not. I don’t know where I stand with him anymore. But what I do know is that Fozen is an asset, and teaching him in the right ways would benefit us significantly.”

“And you trust Muras with that?”

“Better a dragon who actually understands how Forzen’s body works, and there’s no one better but another purple dragon,” Malcolm stated with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Muras has done his best to provide for Warfang and be a positive part of society, and has time after time protected us during sieges,” Ash added. “We have no reason to doubt him or think of him as evil, even after his evil past as Malefor. He’s a changed dragon. Let that be your proof of him being good, rather than stories of our ancestors that you do not believe.”

“And what about… Forzen?” Lavie asked, spitting out his name with hatred.

“He hasn’t actually done anything wrong,” Torialis said. “He’s completely innocent. From the way he holds himself, he is not affiliated with Spyro in any way. He refuses to even call Spyro his father.”

“He could just be acting, pulling you around his claws.”

“I watched that kid during the meeting the guardians had with him,” Derilan said. “That kid has no acting bone in his body. I may not trust him, and I may hate him, but I know for a fact that there’s no acting going on with him.”

“So why don’t you trust him then, if you can see all that in him?”

“I don’t trust him because I know what purple dragons are capable of. I have seen the destruction they can cause, how quickly and efficiently they can kill. He may be but a whelp, but give him time and practice, and he could become one of the most formidable foes we have ever seen. I don’t trust him because I don’t know what discovering all this power will do to him. I don’t know what exposure to darkness will do to him. Going off Muras’ story, it ruined him, and it also ruined Spyro. I’m sure you know what Spyro was like up until twelve years ago.”

“He was selfless, loving, kind, and looked out for others. He was what you’d expect from someone titled ‘the Saviour of the World’,” Frélix said. “But now… now he’s the Dark Overlord. He’s succumbed to darkness, and fallen into a monster worse than Malefor ever was. He’s been consumed by evil, and I think his bloodlust has even taken over his original motives as the Dark Overlord. He’s grown so in love with murder that he does it for fun now.”

“Exactly,” Derilan said. “My greatest fear is that we will put our hope into Forzen, the same way we did with Spyro, only for Forzen to fall the same way Spyro did twelve years ago. He seems pure, but everyone knows that the purer someone’s heart is, the further they fall when they have the opportunity to. I’ll be honest, the fact that he’s not even somewhat bad—not even evil but just bad—concerns me more than if he was.”

“So… what? We just let him roam free? What are we going to do with him?” Lavie asked.

“I had the impression of just that: let him roam free,” Ash said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He deserves to be a kid amongst all this and explore. He deserves to not feel like a slave or a prisoner by those who are technically on his side.”

“We are not on the same side as him, where are you even pulling that idea from?” Lavie snarled.

“We both oppose Spyro, do we not?” Malcolm asked.

“I mean yeah, but—”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. That is basically our approach to Forzen at this current point in time, at least the way I see it.”

“How do we know if Forzen is Spyro’s enemy, though?”

“That doesn’t matter. Forzen sees Spyro as his enemy. We both see Spyro as the enemy.”

“I still don’t agree with just letting him roam free doing what he wants, though.”

“Okay, then what do you propose? And no, we are not killing or imprisoning him, understand?” Torialis threatened.

“We have a guard follow him at all times. No, two. Two guards,” Lavie suggested.

“Wouldn’t that make people more concerned about him?” Ash asked. “If Forzen is in need of guards being around him to escort him everywhere, throughout every second of every day, I think that would just broadcast the wrong message to the rest of Warfang. I don’t think Forzen would be very happy with us either, and I think it would give him the wrong idea of Warfang as well.”

“I gave you an answer that wasn’t killing him and now you’re complaining about that?!” Lavie snapped, standing up in her seat and slamming the table again, her fist shaking. “This would have been no different to if I had just said to kill him!”

“Lavie, enough!” Torialis shouted. “You are being… very difficult to work with and extremely uncooperative. I know you’re angry and upset—”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel towards that little monster.”

“—but that is no reason to be so hostile in this meeting! We are trying to brainstorm ideas that would benefit both Forzen and Warfang and put thought behind this. We are trying to be civil about this manner and think with clear minds. No matter how much we dislike Forzen, we must remain unbiased in this decision!”

As Torialis said the last sentence, his gaze flicked to Derilan and Frélix briefly. The ice guardian huffed as Torialis implicitly hinted at his behaviour, and even Derilan frowned slightly, even though he knew his dislike was very strong towards Forzen.

“Tell you what, if it helps from a training point of view, considering Forzen’s training sessions are to help him learn how to fight and use his elements, I will have Muras and Cynder book their sessions through me so I can also be there to supervise what is being taught,” Torialis suggested.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Derilan said with a nod.

“I agree,” Lagenon said.

“It’s a good way to passively monitor what he’s being taught, and to keep him in sight as much as you can,” Malcolm mumbled. “It’ll also give you the chance to interject if you need to, which will be helpful if Forzen gets too out of control.”

And Cynder, Torialis thought. This is also partially my thinking to stop Cynder’s abuse towards that poor whelp.

“What about in school? He’s in school right?” Lavie challenged, to which all four guardians nodded. “He’ll have combat classes. Won’t he be fighting and sparring against other children? Can we trust him to not go overboard during those classes? Can we trust him to not ‘accidentally’ kill another young dragon?”

“I trust Master Almai. He’s one of the most trustworthy teachers and ex-soldier I know,” Torialis said firmly.

“ I don’t know Master Almai. How do I know if I can trust him?” Lavie asked.

I didn’t know this vixen was capable of this much sass and disruption. She’s not usually this hard to work with. Is this situation showing her true colours, or does it really just have her that riled up? Torialis thought.

“You can’t expect him to be at every lesson of Forzen’s every day,” Malcolm murmured.

“I never said he needed to. Just the combat ones. Torialis’ word on trust isn’t enough for me when it comes to that purple whelp,” Lavie growled. “I need him there to make me feel comfortable with having that purple dragon living here, eating the same food as us, breathing the same air as us.”

“Lavie, what you’ve been saying this whole meeting has been getting quite into the field of racism,” Ash murmured. “It’s very uncouth of you, particularly in a setting like this.”

“What, you upset that I’m picking on a dragon with purple scales? I’m sorry that purple dragons haven’t had the best reputation recently, and I’m sorry that I am terrified to even think of being near one, particularly when the one in question is Spyro’s son!”

“Ija vokka!” Malcolm cursed in his own tongue. “Give it up, Lavie. We’re trying to brainstorm ways to keep him in check while still giving him the freedom he deserves! Being the descendant of a bad person doesn’t inherently make someone bad!”

“Why is this such a problem now? Everyone out there are saying things like this!” Lavie exclaimed, pointing out at the doors. “Everyone out there panics the moment Forzen walks into view! Everyone hates him and wants him dead! What is so different with me trying to voice my concerns with him?”

“SILENCE!” Torialis roared. “I shouldn’t have to raise my voice so much in one meeting, ancestors damn it! Now, until he proves to us otherwise, we will be treating Forzen like any other child! Free roam of Warfang, providing an education, and allowing him to learn and explore his elements! We are being cautious about it, which is why I suggested that I supervise these training sessions of his, so that I can monitor what is being taught to him! If you so badly want his school sessions supervised by a guardian, I can volunteer myself or Ash to do it, if that’s okay with you, Ash.”

“All fine by me, Torialis,” the fire guardian said with a soft smile.

“Just know that if we are to be present during every single one of Forzen’s combat classes, there will be questions and concerns amongst the other students, which will provide us with extra grief trying to calm down the rumours and concerns that may arise from this.”

“I understand, I’ll take whatever punishment I need if it becomes too much of a hassle for you. Just do it,” Lavie scowled, her gaze lowering to look at her paws as she circled her claws around each other.

“Good. Are there any other suggestions?”

“I think to start with, that should be plenty. We’re monitoring what Forzen is being taught in a combat situation, which is probably the biggest cause of unrest in Warfang at the moment: Forzen breaking into a violent rage and starting to attack everyone,” Lagenon said. “If we need more, we can always come back and discuss more options, but right now I think that’s fine.”

“Alright, is everyone in agreeance?” Torialis asked.

“Aye,” Ash, Lagenon and Malcolm said, before Frélix and Derilan followed after brief hesitation.

“Lavie. Is everyone in agreeance?”

“Aye,” Lavie eventually spat, rolling her eyes.

“Great. Meeting dismissed.”

Torialis was the first one out of the room, his head spinning from that awful meeting. He wasn’t expecting so much hostility and anger, and for basically the entire thing to be surrounding Forzen. He should have expected Forzen to be the topic of this meeting, considering it was the first one since the purple dragon’s arrival in Warfang, but it just never crossed his mind.

The earth guardian made his way out to the front door of the Warfang Temple, leaving and walking down the street. He needed a walk to clear his mind, maybe have some lunch. Ancestors know he needed a quick reset of the brain, particularly since he had his meeting with Cynder later this afternoon, which he was not looking forward to in the slightest.

He had just barely gotten out of the Warfang Temple when he heard pawsteps rushing up behind him. He turned around to see Ash running up behind him. “Torialis, are you alright?” Ash asked.

“I’m fine,” Torialis sighed. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You looked so stressed at the end of that. I could tell you wanted to snap more than you did.”

“It wouldn’t have been very professional of me to do. I had to keep it in.”

“Toralis, what’s wrong? There’s more on your mind than you’re showing.”

“I… It’s just been a big day, particularly with that meeting. And I have a meeting with Cynder in about an hour that I am really not looking forward to.”

“Did Cynder do something to get herself in trouble again?” Ash said with a chuckle, trying to keep it lighthearted, particularly knowing how many meetings Torialis had had with Cynder that was him trying to talk sense into her; usually they didn’t end up going too well.

“Yes.”

“Ancestors… Love that dragoness and she means well, but she can really let her anger get to her head often. What did she do now?”

“She had a training session with Forzen on Vielday. Muras told me she beat him during it. Badly.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah… I’m not looking forward to that conversation with her.”

“I can imagine. She’s… she’s terrifying when she’s in that kind of mood.”

“It’s not even that that’s bothering me, although it is true. I’m just sick of having to scold her all the time when she makes decisions like this. She was doing well before Forzen came into the picture too. I don’t remember the last time any of us had to scold her before Forzen’s arrival.”

“I think that boy’s turning Cynder into a different person. Have you seen her around him?”

“I have. It’s like she has to fight to stay put and not choke him. She’s already incredibly awful towards him even while fighting her anger back. I don’t know the extent of what she did to Forzen, nor if she even went all out or not. I shudder to think of what she put that poor boy through two days ago.”

“Do you think maybe visiting him will be helpful in any way? Go check on him this afternoon once school’s out.”

“With the day that I’m having, I don’t want that on my plate. I’m already drained and stressed.”

“I can go visit Forzen on your behalf if you want. Check up on him, try and have a chat to him, all that stuff.”

“If you want to and if you have the margin for it, go ahead. You’re the only other guardian I trust around him without me around. Lagenon’s probably okay but I know he’s also very cautious of Forzen. Frélix is an awful idea.”

“I… I appreciate it.”

“You’ve shown you care about him. You especially showed that in the meeting earlier. I want to thank you for standing up for him.”

“You don’t need to, Torialis. I worry for Forzen. This environment, while obviously better than what he would have grown up with at Dark Peak, is awful for him. Particularly with Cynder doing whatever she is towards him, and from what I’ve heard, no one at his school likes him either.”

“Yeah, he’s getting bullied and beaten at school as well.”

“I was worried about that… Ancestors, I feel so bad for him. No child should have to live like this. And this is an absolutely atrocious way to treat someone who literally just moved here three weeks ago.”

“I will say, I can’t say I blame them,” Torialis said, shaking his head and stifling a sad chuckle. “The worst thing is, I can understand full well why they’re doing this to him. I feel awful thinking that way and being able to see the other side’s perspective even though their actions are so awfully wrong.”

“I know, that’s what’s hard about this. Particularly because there’s still so many unknowns around Forzen. What if he really is evil underneath all this? It’s not a possibility I want to think about, nor is it an event I think even is possible, but every time I hear that argument and get preached at about who his father is and the recent track record of the purple dragons, it does sew doubt into me, even though I’m quick to throw it away. The scary part to me is that there’s the tiniest chance that everyone else is right, and we’re sitting here taking a pointless risk trying to let him live and learn here, trying to teach him good things, and trying to make an ally and friend out of him.”

Torialis just grunted wordlessly in acknowledgement, looking down at his paws as he walked along the streets of Warfang to the restaurant he usually liked going to. He and Ash walked beside each other for a few minutes in silence, before Torialis looked up and saw that they had arrived at the restaurant: Wings of Fury.

It was a strange restaurant for an earth dragon to enjoy. It was a restaurant ran by a large family of fire dragons, and they specialised in spicy chicken wings, with even their mildest being very hot. Occasionally, other dragons might show up, but the owners said that they’d only ever seen four ice dragons try the restaurant out, and none of them liked it. Spicy food was very much a fire dragon thing, and it was rare for other dragons to enjoy it. Ice dragons in particular had a very low tolerance to heat, meaning that they pretty much never ate spicy food, and if they did, it was usually a dare.

But, Torialis had always been somewhat fond of hotter food, although he usually stayed towards the milder side of things, particularly at Wings of Fury. He and Ash often frequented Wings of Fury on their lunch breaks. Ash followed Torialis inside, before they made their way towards the front counter, where a lean fire dragoness stood.

“Torialis, did you want to have a competition, just to help get your mind off things for a while?” Ash suggested.

“And what, burn my face off? I like spice but I’m not going to put myself in huge amounts of pain doing it,” Torialis said with a slight chuckle.

“Come on, for old times’ sake.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing, but I do have a meeting with Cynder I want to give my full attention to. If I didn’t have that and some other meetings today, I probably would be up for it, even though I know you’ll win,” Torialis said. “I just want to enjoy some good food, give myself a bit of a kick, and then head off to my meeting with Cynder.”

“Okay, okay, I wasn’t going to force you to do it!” Ash chuckled, elbowing Torialis in the ribs playfully.

Torialis rolled his eyes, unable to stop the smile pulling at his lips. They then walked up to the counter and ordered, before finding a table and sitting down. Torialis had gotten one of the milder options, while Ash had gotten the hottest one there was, which was something he hadn’t done at this restaurant before. The dragoness taking their order was surprised, saying that even most fire dragons couldn’t handle their hottest food, but Ash was intent on giving it a go.

Sure enough, it was too hot for poor Ash as he felt the full force of the heat assault his mouth after taking the first bite of his chicken wings. Torialis couldn’t help but burst out laughing as Ash’s confidence got the better of him, his eyes welling up with tears as steam started to rise from his nose, coughs taking over him. All through this, Ash was laughing too, but he was also slightly embarrassed.

There wasn’t much conversation as Ash was just focused on trying to eat his food as quick as he could, wanting to eat the whole thing to be respectful to the fire dragons that had cooked it, while Torialis was enjoying the spectacle before him. He didn’t think that Ash had intended to be such a humorous side attraction to his lunch break, but he was glad it had happened. He needed a mental break from guardianship briefly before he went back into more heavy meetings, so having a lighthearted laugh was good.

The dragoness that had served them came around with a glass of milk for Ash, who gulped it down quickly, before wiping his paws and face with some napkins, wanting to rid himself of the sticky hot sauce that had been on the chicken.

There wasn’t much to talk about afterwards, so Ash sat there while waiting for Torialis to finish his meal, before eventually they paid for their food and then made their way back to the Warfang Temple. He spent the whole walk back hardening his emotions up ready for his meeting with Cynder in a few minutes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do this without that preparation beforehand.

Cynder was unpredictable. Torialis didn’t know how she would be feeling and what she would bring to the conversation. Her anger was often changing. She could be silent and just want to get the meeting over with, which would be the easiest scenario for Torialis. Or she could push back and argue a bit. Or she could be outright defiant, screaming back at him and threatening him.

There were many ways this meeting could go.

Ash wished Torialis good luck before they went their own separate ways, Torialis heading all the way back to his office. He sat down at his desk and looked up at the clock. It was almost the thirteenth hour. Cynder would be here any moment soon.

Before long, she finally walked in. Her eyes were filled with annoyance and frustration, and Torialis had to hold in his intimidation as she sat down in front of him, emerald eyes glaring at him hauntingly.

“So, what did you summon me here for? Hopefully it’s not to scold me again,” she growled.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s exactly that,” Torialis huffed.

“What a waste of my time. I have a job too, you know? A very important one, at that. I know your role as guardian is very important, but so is mine, especially considering my job is the one that keeps Warfang safe! My job is the one that keeps people alive!”

“Admittedly it’s a waste of my time too, but because of your behaviour, I need to have these conversations with you.”

“Okay, and what exactly have I done to apparently waste both of our times here then?”

“Child abuse.”

Cynder’s eyes went wide, as if suddenly realising she had just been found out for what she had done. Meanwhile, Torialis stayed completely blank-faced, glaring judgmentally at her. The brief look of shock in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, before rage took over her expression.

“You dare call me beating up that purple whelp child abuse? He is no child, he’s a juvenile devil!”

“Oh, here we go…” Torialis groaned.

“His very existence is a threat to our own existence, and you are just giving him the absolute freedom to do whatever the hell he wants?! Torialis, he could kill us all if we don’t do something about him!”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that he’s only here to live as best a life he can get, and to learn? I’m sure you’ve noticed it yourself: he has no ulterior motives. I have never seen anyone so genuinely shy and scared about everyone and everything. He doesn’t have it in him to betray us and start killing everyone. You’ve heard how he talks about Spyro; he hates him. I don’t think Forzen wants anything to do with darkness.”

“Some of the worst people are the best actors, Torialis. He’s pulling wool over our eyes! He deserves to be beaten and punished!”

“I don’t see that in him, Cynder. Everything you are spitting in my face right now is just a result of your trauma with Malefor and Spyro, and I’ll be honest, blatant racism at this point.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“You’re literally calling him a devil just because his scales are purple! You’re beating him and cutting open his face because he’s a purple dragon!”

“I’m doing all that because he is Spyro’s son!”

“He is your son too!”

“DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Oh I dare!”

“DON’T YOU EVER CALL THAT WORM MY SON AGAIN!” Cynder shrieked as she thrust her face into his.

“You don’t scare me, Cynder,” Torialis growled, burying his emotions, his fear, his intimidation; he was blank and empty. “And I don’t care what you think of him as your son, nothing can take away the fact that he biologically came from you. He is a part of you. Surely he owes some respect from the dragoness who brought him into this world.”

“Whatever son of mine he might have been was taken away by Spyro’s devilry. He spent twelve years in that hellish mountain. Who knows how much darkness he has taken in?”

“You know he was taught by one of our own throughout those twelve years, right?”

“Torialis, he hasn’t told us everything! Who knows what he’s hiding from us? Spyro can’t have just left him alone in another dragon’s care, right? Surely Spyro imparted something into him to keep him under control, right? What if Spyro takes control of Forzen and he destroys the entire city? We will be at fault because we welcomed him with open arms into this city!”

“Then that’s the risk we have to take. Cynder, Forzen’s an ally right now. He can help us. And in turn, we can help him. He wants Spyro gone as much as we do, and he also just wants a normal life as much as we do. Even in these times of war and darkness, surely we can give him as normal of a life as we can. Doesn’t he deserve that much?”

“No.”

“Cynder…” Torialis growled.

“I will not teach him how to kill!”

“Okay, so what has beating him and cutting him got anything to do with it?!”

“Because he’s Spyro’s little devil and he deserves it! And also to scare him away from learning his elements with me so he doesn’t ever learn them! He shouldn’t ever learn how to use his elements, and shouldn’t ever learn how to use them to attack and kill things!”

“Cynder, you need help. Like… serious help. Beating up Forzen does nothing but make you a child abuser. It does nothing but make you look bad. And besides, these lessons are supposed to teach him how to defend himself and defend others. They’re meant to teach him how to control his elements.”

“If he has control over his elements, he can freely use them to hurt others!”

“But he also will know how to use them to prevent hurting others. An out of control element is dangerous and unpredictable. And particularly with elements like his, particularly sound, he’s at more risk of harming others without control. He only has three elements unlocked; we don’t even know what other crazy elements he has at his disposal. I’m also assuming because he’s purple he’ll be able to use convexity, and that is a scary, destructive element that I do not want him to have no control over.”

“If he’s this dangerous, why are we keeping him here?”

“Because he wants the same things as us! He can help us! Treating him like this isn’t going to want to make him do it! Stop thinking about yourself for once and think about how he feels!”

“About myself?! Torialis, thinking about others is all I do!” Cynder screamed, her emotions flaring up. “I know it doesn’t seem like it with the way I am now, but I don’t go a single day without putting others before myself! I sacrifice every day to building a strong army that can fight against Spyro’s forces! I sacrifice time with my brother to be in those barracks every day, and then out on the battlefield every time there’s an attack! I mourn for the lives we lose, even though I don’t know any of them!

“I haven’t told you about how Typhaar ended up yet, but we failed! WE FAILED! Time and time again, WE KEEP LOSING PEOPLE! I saw many dragons reduced to awful, bloody conditions in the aftermath, where only thirty of us survived out of a city of thousands! Moments like that tear me apart because all I can think of is those who unfairly lost their lives in awful, traumatic ways, and we couldn’t stop them! I fear every day that Warfang will join Typhaar and many other cities!

“You claim I don’t care about others?! It’s all I do, you heartless bastard! You might think that’s rich coming from me but under my emotionless, angry shell, I still feel, and I feel very strongly!”

“Then stop for one second and think about Forzen,” Torialis challenged. “How do you think he feels? He’s just escaped Dark Peak and found himself in an unfamiliar city, but one that seems to be safe and promising, only to find everyone, including his own mother, hate him, belittle him, beat him, tear him open, and call him ‘devil’... call him ‘moras’tov’. Try and at least understand how he feels about being constantly labeled as evil, when he knows he is the furthest thing from that! I would have thought YOU out of all dragons would understand that, with a past like yours!”

“Stop it!” Cynder snarled.

“Put yourself back in the paws of a fifteen-year-old Cynder, returning from the core and wanting a normal life in Warfang, only to find everyone hating you and claiming you were still evil and out for blood! Put yourself back in the paws of a Cynder who just wanted to feel loved and cared for, only for everyone to belittle you, beat you, tear you open, call you ‘she-devil’...”

She knew where Torialis was going to go next. “I SAID STOP IT!” she screamed.

“...call you ‘Malefor’s whore’.”

“ENOUGH!”

Cynder slammed her paws on Torialis’ desk with such force it cracked, sending splinters flying. She stood there, staring at her fists, which shook with rage and terror. Her eyes were bloodshot and wet with tears, as everything she had buried from her childhood hit her once again. Suddenly, she felt like that little girl again, so small and so vulnerable, so full of hurt and shame, just wanting to start again, but no one would let her. Every day she was reminded of her past as the Terror of the Skies. Every day she had titles and labels pushed upon her, including those that were never even true to begin with, much like ‘Malefor’s whore’, and many more that were even more vile.

She looked up. Torialis still wore that same, emotionless look on his face. It hurt. Deep inside, Cynder knew Torialis didn’t mean the words he was saying, that he was saying them and bringing up those memories to prove a point, but looking at him stare at her blankly after saying those words… it hurt. She didn’t even know she could still feel this old pain. She thought she had moved past it all those years ago. She was twenty years older than she was back then. How did those words still hurt her?

“Think about it, Cynder,” Torialis continued, this time much gentler, now that he could see how much she was hurting from what he had said to her. “Think back to how you felt all those years ago, and then think to how Forzen feels now. You two are not all that different, you know?”

“But he is different.”

“HOW?!” Torialis yelled, finally losing his composure. “WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST THE POOR KID?! WHY ARE YOU BEATING HIM UP AND TEARING HIS FACE OPEN?! WHY ARE YOU FORCING HIM TO FIGHT BATTLES IN THE TRAINING RING THAT HE IS ILL-PREPARED FOR?! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO GAIN FROM ANY OF THAT?!”

“You claim he’s like me. But I look at him and I see a dragon who’s like Spyro,” Cynder explained. “He may be pure and kind-hearted, like Spyro used to be. But Spyro never stayed that way. I’m sure you know Muras’ story. He was the same. Purple dragons don’t stay good. How long will we keep him here before he suddenly decides to go berserk and start another war, or just join Spyro if we haven’t won by then? Who’s to say he won’t overthrow Spyro and take over?

“If there was one thing I noticed during our training session on Vielday, it was that Forzen is incredibly skilled with his elements. He may not have the raw power that Spyro did, but he has more skill and control than Spyro ever had at his age when he was learning his elements. And that terrifies me. I know you don’t want him to have no control, but I also don’t want him to have full control. Forzen’s dangerous, and knowing how the last two purple dragons turned out… I don’t want to prepare Forzen with incredible, unbeatable skills, for him to turn dark and use them on us. We struggled with Malefor, we’re struggling more with Spyro, I worry about how much we’ll struggle if Forzen turns evil.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t get that out of my head. Purple dragons are destined to destroy the world and start fresh. That’s what Malefor wanted to do, and that’s to some extent what Spyro is trying to do, in his own way. That’s what almost happened with the Destroyer and it’s what almost happened with Naar’voth, even though Naar’voth took control of Spyro during Armageddon, where the Destroyer was still under Malefor’s full control. There might be a bit of me in Forzen, but I see more of Spyro in him and that’s what terrifies me.”

“Cynder, please just—” Torialis started.

“Don’t!” Cynder interrupted. “Please just… don’t! You can’t change my mind, Torialis. I am terrified of that boy. I hate him and I fear him. That will never change.”

“Think of it this way: if you hurt him this much now, won’t it just fuel him to hate you even more if he ever does go dark? Aren’t you just fueling his revenge?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. All I know is that right now in this very moment, it’s scaring him into doing nothing. He stays away from me, he’s scared to speak up, he’s scared to talk back or challenge anyone. All he does is comply, which is what helps us right now. We can be the ones to control him, not Spyro.”

“Cynder, this isn’t about controlling him.”

“Then what is it about?!”

“It’s about building a good dragon. A good dragon that knows good from evil, and who is able to protect himself and those around him from evil. I think he’s already got most of that. I’ve heard of the way he refuses to hurt another dragon. It matched perfectly with what I saw on the first day he arrived.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Silence filled the room for a few moments as the two dragons stared uncomfortably at each other. Cynder wiped her wet eyes, sniffling as she tried to keep her emotions under control. It wasn’t long before Torialis had begun speaking again.

“I want you to keep teaching Forzen his wind element, and any of your other elements should he unlock them. However, all training sessions must run by me, and I will also be present for each and every one of them, even if Muras is already there. I won’t be upfront and active, but I will be watching. This will be enforced, as it is still part of Forzen’s training, and he is much better taught by someone who is skilled with his elements.”

“What about sound? We have no one here who can use that element,” Cynder said.

“The sinister elements are the only ones where we won’t be able to provide Forzen with personal experience and someone skilled in the element. We will just have to try our best and learn alongside Forzen, and look into doing research on those elements ourselves. You don’t have to be part of that if you don’t want to; that was likely going to be mostly Muras and us guardians.”

“I don’t want to be a part of that. I want as little to do with Forzen as possible.”

“That’s fine. And one last thing: you will not attack Forzen again, and you will not throw him into scenarios in the ring that he cannot handle, particularly while he is still learning. Understand?”

Cynder glared at Torialis, before huffing, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of here.”

With that, Cynder stood, and with a growl, whirled around and marched out of the room. Torialis watched her go, staring out at the empty hall for a few moments, before he let out his own growl and punched his desk also.

That went absolutely awful, Torialis thought. Not only was she super unhelpful like I thought she would be, but I think I went way too far. She didn’t deserve that comment, even though I was trying to prove a point.

And after all that, I don’t think we came to an agreement. She’s just reluctantly going along with what I say because I’m the guardian. Pathetic.

Torialis stood, before closing the door to his office and stomping down the halls, making his way to the guardians’ bedchambers. I’m going to have a nap… I’m wrecked, Torialis thought. I’m exhausted and I’m angry. Why is everyone being so horrible right now towards that poor kid? I see their point of view, but he’s not like that. And he’s just a kid.

I hope things get better, I truly do.

For him… and for all of us.

Torialis entered his room and collapsed on his bed. He spent ages trying to sleep, but it probably took an hour before he finally gave way to his slumber. His thoughts were too wild, too strong, too negative. Everything that had happened today kept him awake. Everything that had been said kept him awake.

The thought of Forzen getting ripped apart by Cynder’s claws again kept him awake.

He welcomed sleep the moment it washed over him.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since Forzen’s first training session with Cynder. Since then, his scars had healed pretty well, even though his face would be permanently marked by the events of that training session. Muras had allowed Forzen to have it easy to also get over the mental and psychological pain that he had endured from the session, and so had postponed his own training sessions with Forzen for a few days.

The only training he had done was during combat class at school, which he knew he couldn’t skip out on, and he was fine with it. Just two days ago, Forzen had also been moved up from intermediate to expert combat, which had worried him, but after three weeks in intermediate, Master Almai had decided that Forzen would be better off in the expert class, particularly after upping the difficulty on some of the simulations during intermediate combat and watching him emerge victorious, something that Master Almai wouldn’t expect from any of the intermediate students.

Master Almai had also questioned him about the scars on the first combat lesson he had after the training session with Cynder, but he had refused to tell him, just wanting to focus on the class. To ease his worry, however, Forzen did tell Master Almai that it wasn’t from school or from anyone in the school. It didn’t make Master Almai any less concerned, but he seemed happy enough with that answer.

Throughout the week, Forzen had tried to spend some of his alone time doing what Cynder had asked of him back in the training session, now that he had time to be on his own and do it, without the pressure of Cynder’s prying eyes and her awful tests. It had taken him two days, but he had eventually been able to reach out and feel air. He could feel it surrounding him, soft and motionless, almost invisible, but still there.

He hadn’t managed to figure out how to manipulate the air around himself to make him move even faster or to manipulate it in the form of an attack—this was something he hadn’t quite had a chance to practice, but for today’s combat lesson, he planned to try it out. However, he had been practicing using wind to pick up and move objects around. He had figured out how to use the air around books to pick them up and move them through the air towards him, and eventually he had gotten to the point where he could move his bookshelf from one side of the room to the other. The bookshelf was tricky though, due to its size and weight being much larger than what Forzen had been practicing with beforehand.

Forzen wasn’t sure what he could do with the wind element. Could he hold opponents in place? Hold their elemental attacks in place? Could he manipulate the air around him into other attacks that weren’t just tornados? He wasn’t sure, but his goal today was to find out.

The purple dragon walked into the classroom and sat down at the very back of the seating, as he usually did. He watched as more students filed in, before Master Almai closed the door and made his way towards the centre of the room, looking over his students. He marked the roll, before beginning the lesson.

“Alright, so today, we will be doing a round of duels, where you will be pitted against each other in a fight. The rules are no lethal blows, no furies, for those who have figured out how to use them, and the battle will be over when your opponent has been knocked out, pinned down for ten seconds, or has forfeited,” Master Almai said.

The moment he said that, Forzen’s blood froze. He knew this moment would be coming, due to the nature of this class, but Forzen had always been dreading it. He had to fight a real dragon.

“Wait, so we’re fighting against each other?” one of the students asked.

“Yes, Larissa, that is what I said,” Master Almai replied.

“I don’t want to fight against him!” Larissa exclaimed, pointing back towards Forzen, who shrunk back in his seat.

“Me neither!”

“I don’t want to fight him either!”

“Same with me, he’ll kill us!”

“Well too bad, someone’s going to have to. He’s going to need to go through this lesson as well,” Master Almai said firmly.

“It’s alright. If no one wants to fight I’m happy to sit out,” Forzen said softly.

“Forzen, you’re not sitting out and that’s final. I know you don’t want to fight anyone either, but sparring is part of this class. You know this.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“If it makes it easier, we’ll get the match with Forzen done first so it can be out of the way and we don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, deal?”

“Yes, Master Almai,” a chorus of voices replied reluctantly.

“Alright. I won’t do this every time, but since this will be the first time, I’ll do it this once. And there will be more sparring lessons, so I want everyone to know that there is a chance I will pair you up with Forzen, okay?” Master Almai said. “Does everyone understand?”

“Yes, Master Almai,” a few students murmured, and a few others nodded hesitantly.

“Great. Alright, Forzen. Down here in the ring. With you, I want…” Master Almai started, looking around the students sitting in front of him. “...let’s go with Corahgul.”

The ice dragon sitting in the middle of the seating sat up straight, his eyes wide with concern. “Wait, me?” he stammered.

“Yes, you. Get over here.”

Forzen watched as Corahgul stammered a bit more, before hesitantly standing up and making his way down into the ring. “Please don’t be too mean to me,” Corahgul murmured, strong fear edging his voice.

“Likewise. Let’s just get this over with; I really am not keen to do this,” Forzen replied.

“I don’t trust that. I’m sure you’re just jumping with joy on the inside to be able to beat someone’s face in.”

“Corahgul, let’s not antagonise, please,” Master Almai scolded. “This is simply a sparring match as part of education, not an official duel or proper fight. If I feel it is getting too out of hand, I’ll put an end to the fight. I’m sure you know this already, Corahgul; you’ve done enough of these to know how they work and how I deal with them.”

“Yes, Master Almai,” the ice dragon said.

“Forzen? Do you understand?”

“I do. Thank you,” Forzen replied, his eyes gleaming with a faint gratitude that only Master Almai saw.

“I only hope it doesn’t have to come to me having to step in,” Master Almai said, taking a quick warning glance towards Corahgul, before he turned and stepped out of the ring.

Forzen and Corahgul stared at each other. Both of them were as scary as each other to them. Neither of them wanted to fight. The thought of hurting an innocent dragon, even in a regular sparring match, which was a normal part of dragon life and training, upset Forzen significantly. The thought of going up against a powerful purple dragon whose affiliation was still unclear terrified Corahgul, particularly when no one knew much about Forzen, and many had immediately jumped to suspecting him as devilspawn, a dragon with evil intent.

They watched as the energy barrier went up around them, shutting them in the ring with each other.

“On my count. Three, two, one, fight!”

Corahgul burst immediately into action, leaping into the air and whirling around. As he did so, he let ice shards form around his tail, before flicking them off his tail at Forzen. The purple dragon leapt out of the way of the barrage of ice shards coming towards him, before he had to dodge again as Corahgul came down to try and land on top of him.

Forzen ducked as Corahgul ran forward and tried to slash at his face. The purple dragon whirled around in place, sweeping his tail underneath Corahgul’s paws. The ice dragon collapsed to the ground, before rolling around to try and stand up before Forzen could attack him while he was down. However, to Corahgul’s surprise, Forzen made no move to attack him. Forzen was too scared to attack. He knew he had to, but just doing it was the hard part. This was different than Muras telling Forzen to use an electric attack on him as a demonstration. This was an actual fight. Even the tail sweep felt wrong to him.

Forzen burst into action again as more ice shards were shot at him. He leapt out of the way of them, but was suddenly caught off guard as Corahgul let out a beam of ice breath at him, freezing his paw to the ground. An awful chill went up his body as his paw froze, and Forzen tried to pull his paw out of the ice that had encased it and kept it on the ground.

He looked up to see Corahgul lunging towards him, his fist reared back, preparing to punch him across the face. Forzen let out a cry of fear, before finally, he let loose an attack. Lightning shot out of his mouth towards Corahgul, and the ice dragon suddenly shot backwards from the force of the lightning bolt. He landed on the ground with a thud, coughing as he stood himself back up.

As Corahgul recovered, Forzen looked back down at his paw, before running electricity through his body and out of his paw, trying to use lightning to break through the ice. A small yellow explosion went off, sending shattered pieces of ice flying everywhere, freeing his paw.

The ice dragon leapt forward again, claws outstretched ready to slash him, but Forzen stepped back again. He dodged a few swipes from Corahgul, before he finally let out his own attack. The punch landed, and Forzen almost felt sick when he felt the heavy impact of Corahgul’s jaw on his fist. Corahgul staggered backwards, groaning in pain, before he leapt forward and headbutted Forzen. The purple dragon retaliated by punching Corahgul again.

Forzen was the one to step back, his breath heavy and heart racing as he realised that he was actually hurting another dragon. He hated this.

He didn’t have to win, did he? Surely he could just… let Corahgul win?

He was forced out of his thoughts as he felt several blunt ice shards slam into the side of his head, shattering on impact. He was lucky they were blunt, as sharp ones could have pierced the flesh and stuck themself into his head, and that was something he absolutely did not want.

Stumbling backwards, Forzen shook his head to reorient himself. He leapt backwards to try and put space between him and Corahgul, using his wind element to try and spring himself further backwards, which worked.

Using his wind element reminded him of his whole goal of making this lesson a chance to practice. He’d gotten so caught up in the fact that he was actually fighting another dragon that the adrenaline and horror had gotten in the way of his goal. Clearing his mind, he tried to focus on his goal. He didn’t have to win. He could throw the match and end it once he felt he had done enough. But right now, he wanted to try some things.

He watched as Corahgul inhaled, ready to fire more ice shards at him. As the ice shards shot out of Corahgul’s maw, shooting at high speeds towards him, Forzen tried to feel the air around the ice shards. It was hard, due to how fast they were travelling through the air, but eventually, he got it. He increased the pressure all around each shard, much like a fist grabbing hold of it.

Suddenly, the ice shards came to a halt in mid-air, just a few inches away from his face. He had caught them and brought them to a stand-still.

“What?!” Corahgul exclaimed, fear edging his shout.

I did it! Forzen thought, trying to keep his excitement to himself.

He looked at the ice shards that hang suspended in the air, their blunt forms all pointing at him with intent to hurt him. Forzen then tried to push the ice shards out away from him. Pushing at the air in front of the ice shards, he flung them out in a wide angle away from him, but also from Corahgul, not wanting to deflect them back towards him.

“How are you doing that?” Master Almai whispered to himself with awe, although Forzen could hear it due to his sound element, all his elements on edge due to the fight.

Fear began to control Corahgul as his attacks started getting more desperate. He spat more ice shards at Forzen, who once more caught them in the air with his wind element, holding them still. The more Corahgul did this, the more his ice shards began to get sharper and sharper. Forzen wasn’t sure if Master Almai had noticed, but these could easily pierce his flesh now, as opposed to the blunt ones Corahgul had been attacking with earlier.

Forzen leapt back as suddenly Corahgul lunged at him, claws outstretched. The ice dragon assailed him with fast and violent swipes, claws intent to catch him and draw blood. Forzen dodged as much as he could, but one lucky claw caught the edge of his cheek, opening a new wound above one of his scars. He could feel the thin beads of blood dribbling down over his scar.

The purple dragon spun around, swiping his tail underneath Corahgul’s feet and sending him collapsing to the ground. Corahgul barely got time to stand before Forzen completed his spin, stretching his wings out wide and slapping the ice dragon across the face with them.

Adrenaline got the better of Forzen. He was already fighting back, and now his body was starting to get in a really bad spot because of it. His body, fueled by adrenaline, moved faster than his mind could, and so he then suddenly spat out a few strong bolts of lightning at Corahgul, preventing him from standing up, before using his wind element to pick him up and throw him into the barrier at the other side of the ring. He grunted as he hit the energy wall, before he slumped forward and landed face-first into the ground.

Forzen finally caught himself before he could do any more damage, and immediately stepped back with fear. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go that far!” he exclaimed, his body shaking as his mind caught up with everything his body had done on autopilot.

Corahgul looked up at Forzen with fear in his eyes. “He wins. I’m done,” Corahgul whimpered.

“A swipe with a tail, a strike with lightning, and then getting thrown to the other end of the ring, and you’re calling it there?” Master Almai asked, a little bit surprised. “You’re in expert combat; you’ve been through worse, from myself and other students. Why are you backing down so soon?”

“His powers scare me. After seeing… whatever he did to hold my ice attacks in place… I don’t want to know what else he can do with those elements of his. I don’t even know what other elements he’s capable of using,” Corahgul said. “Even with few attacks as well, Forzen’s strong; there was a lot of power behind some of those strikes, particularly the lightning.”

“Very well; I guess this is the first time anyone’s really fought with him, and I suppose none of you are really familiar with his elements since he just moved up from intermediate to expert combat this week,” Master Almai murmured with a shrug. “Forzen has the first victory of the day.”

Silence.

Master Almai glared at the rest of the class and made a motion with his claw to get them to applaud, which only a few students did, hesitantly.

“You don’t have to make them applaud for me, Master Almai,” Forzen said, picking up on the motion. “There was nothing good about what I did.”

“Don’t be too humble about it, Forzen. You’re a good fighter.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

Master Almai stepped back in surprise, not expecting Forzen to suddenly yell at him. The large earth dragon looked down at the younger purple dragon, feeling slightly intimidated by the angry, yet hurt glare that he was giving him.

“I hit him,” Forzen continued, a bit quieter as he tried to keep his frustration in. “You know my stance on fighting other dragons, Master Almai. I know it’s required of me due to what is taught in this class, but it doesn’t mean I can’t hate what I did. I know everything that happened in the fight was tame compared to normal, but… I just don’t think I can go all out on another dragon.”

“I understand, but I can’t give you exemptions to certain aspects of class just because it makes you uncomfortable. As much as I know your viewpoint very well, this is something that needs to be taught to the class, including you. Even if it’s a matter of protecting yourself if you get jumped, being able to hold your own against another dragon is important. Besides, it helps me assess your skills a lot better than a mere dummy can. As helpful as dummies are, they can be limited, and they can’t think like a living, breathing opponent. This is why we have live sparring matches with peers, as far back as history records it. Even outside of school, in the army, we do this. If it helps, I can let you know ahead of time if we’re doing a sparring lesson, to help you prepare yourself mentally beforehand.”

“I’d prefer not to do it at all, but for now, fine,” Forzen huffed. “Anyway, are we done? I think the others should have their sparring matches now.”

“You’re right. Please, go to the chest and grab some red gems for that cut. Corahgul, do you think you’ll need any?”

“I don’t think so. I just got slapped a few times and then hit with some lightning. I think I’ll be fine without; I don’t think I’m bruised,” the ice dragon said.

“Great,” Master Almai said, before turning to the class. “And to everyone else as well, the rest of you will be fighting Forzen at some point. I think it’ll be a good challenge for all of you, and after all, he needs someone to fight against. Don’t be afraid; he has your best interests at heart, and as you saw just now, hurting any of you even in a controlled sparring match is the last thing he wants to do.”

“You don’t have to stand up for me, Master Almai,” Forzen murmured, before walking over to the red gems chest with his head low.

Forzen could tell Master Almai had an argument against his statement, but the earth dragon held his tongue and instead proceeded to continue the class, calling up the next two students to fight each other.

The purple dragon made his way back up the grandstands, sitting in the corner as he looked down upon the sparring matches. Now that these students were fighting each other, with Forzen not in the mix, there was high amounts of friendly competition as they all tried their very hardest to beat each other, not holding back. There were heavy blows, some bloody cuts drawn, but nothing too serious as this was still a controlled setting in the school.

He winced watching some of the fights; he didn’t know if he could be that violent towards another dragon. It especially unsettled him watching earth dragons drive their opponent’s face into the ground several times in succession, lightning dragons hold a lightning breath attack for an extended period of time, not ceasing the flow of electricity into their opponent’s body. He had to sit and watch as his classmates delivered some pretty heavy blows and punches, as well as quite a few large swipes of their claws, sending a few droplets of blood spraying over their bodies and the floor. It was especially visible on the pale blue ice dragons, as the dark red blood contrasted the most out of all of the dragons who participated.

Eventually, the lesson had finished, and it was onto the next class. He had maths next, which was good for him. He didn’t care much about the content in the class; it was a bit tricky sometimes and he didn’t really enjoy it, but at least Master Tegliath was nice and didn’t have anything against him like most of the other teachers here.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he hadn’t been focusing on where he was going, and felt himself bump into another body. Flustered, he realised he’d collided with a group of girls his age also going to the same class as him; he had seen them before sitting on the other side of the classroom, although he didn’t know their names. Three of them were ice dragonesses, one was a lightning dragoness, and the other was a fire dragoness.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” one of the ice dragonesses exclaimed, narrowing her piercing ice-blue eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Forzen murmured nervously, stepping away from the group of girls. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Maybe you should use your eyes more,” the lightning dragoness said, large amounts of sass edging her voice as she whipped her head around.

The other dragonesses followed. The ice dragoness who had spoken to him kept her gaze on him for a little while longer, before turning back to her friends silently. The other two ice dragonesses immediately started to laugh and gossip about him, to which he shook his head and rolled his eyes. However, as he looked back at them, he noticed the fire dragoness slowing down behind them, as her gaze still remained fixed on him. Despite being a fire dragoness, her gaze was cold and judging, and he felt small and targetted under her gaze.

The calmer, quieter ice dragoness turned around and called out to her. “Eleizen, are you coming?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m fine, Frostine,” Eleizen murmured before turning and running back to the group.

Forzen watched as they walked ahead of them, moving at a faster pace than he was. He kept his eyes fixed on Eleizen. Something about the way she looked at him creeped him out. Her gaze didn’t feel right for a normal dragon. He could sense something about her, and there was something off about her.

He just shrugged it off, believing that maybe she was just a cold and scary type of person when around those she didn’t like. After all, he didn’t know anything about her. He’d never talked to her or even been around her much. However, in all the time that he’d been at this school and seen her in passing and in classes, she had never made him feel this unsettled before.

What had changed to suddenly make him feel so on edge simply just being in her presence?

As they all made their way into maths class and the lesson began, Forzen couldn’t help but notice Eleizen glancing over at him intermittently throughout the lesson. The moment he would look back at her, she was back into her work as if nothing had happened, or went to talking to Frostine and the others. He still couldn’t shake off the fact that something was off about her; feeling her gaze on him made him feel sick.

Lunch was next, and he sat alone once again, sitting on his thoughts. He had looked around for Eleizen, feeling greatly unsettled from earlier, but was glad to see them on the complete other end of the lunch hall. He could see Eleizen subtly looking around as well, probably for him, so he sank back down in his seat and tried to make himself small, ducking behind the shapes of the other dragons sitting between each end of the large room.

The more he thought about how Eleizen’s gaze made him feel, the more he felt that there was something… dark… behind that gaze.

Back in Dark Peak, there had been the very off chance that Spyro himself had come in to teach Forzen. One of the things that Spyro had taught him was that every dragon had a spirit trace, which if another dragon was in tune with it enough, they could feel other dragons’ spirit traces. Usually, spirit traces felt like their element, but it also contained the quality and purity of their spirit, and a bit of their personality too.

Forzen had fallen out of practice with doing this, but there was a chance that Eleizen’s spirit trace was so bad that it unsettled Forzen even without actively reaching out to feel her spirit trace. He remembered how Spyro’s had felt. It was crushing, pure evil, awful. It had made him throw up when he had tried to feel his spirit trace.

Since getting more in tune with his elements, it seemed his senses with feeling spirit traces had risen as well. Maybe he was unconsciously tapping into that sense due to how suspicious he was of Eleizen, having never seen her before and seeing her just… stare at him.

He knew he had to get a bit closer to her to be able to feel her spirit trace properly, which getting in close vicinity of her was not something he was too keen on just doing. Maybe he’d have to wait until the next time they were all walking to a class they shared together. So far he didn’t know what other classes Eleizen had, but it was a safe bet that she could probably be seen hanging around Frostine and her group of friends. He also knew she was in his maths class, so that helped as well.

It wasn’t long before lunch finished and it was back to class. He made his way to the lockers to grab his books for his last classes of the day: history and literature, before making his way to the history classroom, where Master Hyrath was waiting for them, watching as all the students filed into the classroom and sat down.

As usual, Forzen sat in the back corner of the room. He sat there, staring out of the classroom window, before he suddenly noticed Frostine’s group, including Eleizen, walk in and make their way to their seats. Like before, the fire dragoness was staring directly at him as she walked in. Forzen shivered in discomfort, before he tried to calm himself down, before reaching out and trying to feel her spirit trace. Due to the smaller size of the classroom compared to the lunch hall, he was able to do it a lot easier.

He didn’t remain calm for long, as horror creeped into his soul. He tried not to freak out too much, as to not give away what he had just done, or make a big scene in the classroom.

As he reached out and felt Eleizen’s spirit trace, he was shocked to feel absolutely no fire in there. Instead, her spirit trace was toxic and venomous, corrosive and evil.

She was a venomfang in disguise.

Forzen knew that Spyro had created dark dragons who could disguise themselves who were used as spies, but he had never seen or felt one up in person before.

This was awful. Why was she here? Was she spying on him? Was there something else she was spying on for Spyro? What information was she about to pass onto Spyro? How long had she really been here, working her way into Frostine’s friend group to be in the school and close to Forzen? He had never really paid too much attention to the other students around him, and had hardly seen much with Frostine’s group.

She had also been here just as long as he had. He had assumed that Eleizen was a student that had been here all her life, much like the other students. Had Spyro sneakily sent her out the moment Forzen had escaped Dark Peak? Did Eleizen figure out how to enroll herself in the school at exactly the same time that Forzen had been enrolled?

What were her plans? Would she kill anyone here? Would she capture him?

Forzen needed to get rid of this venomfang.

I can’t do it in the middle of class. That will go so bad, particularly with Master Hyrath here. I’ll have to deal with her after school, Forzen thought. But how do I go about it? How do I prove that she’s a venomfang? How do I deal with her? I have no clue how the disguise magic works.

“Forzen!” Master Hyrath yelled, pulling him from his thoughts. “Are you here?”

“I… what?”

“The roll call.”

“Oh! I, uh… y-y-yes, I’m here.”

“Thank you. Pay attention next time.”

Forzen winced, before nodding. He barely noticed a few students, Frostine’s group included, snickering and giggling about him, and it made him blush in embarrassment. Alright, I need to pay attention in class. No more venomfang thoughts. I can think about… that thing… later, Forzen thought.

“Now, today we will be focusing on one of the first major battles of the War of Blood and Bone: the Fall of Astigaar,” Master Hyrath explained. “This happened shortly after Lord Darvarol of the Blood Cult of Lograwl had declared war on Warfang and its allies, and attacked a neighbouring city called Astigaar. This attack brought an end to Astigaar, wounding Warfang’s allied forces, and the city never managed to come back, leaving it an ancient ruin as of today.

“The members of the Blood Cult had joined with Lograwl’s army to perform many blood rituals to drain the inhabitants of the city of their blood. Meanwhile, Lograwl’s forces would take on Astigaar’s forces, brutally slaughtering them. Of its whole population of thirty thousand, twenty-five thousand were killed, and the remaining five thousand were taken back to Lograwl as slaves. This was where the torture and barganing began throughout the war.”

Master Hyrath then continued to go into more of the details about what happened during the attack, as well as what the Blood Cult was. Even though the war had been started by the leader of the Blood Cult, Lord Darvarol, Master Hyrath hadn’t really taken the time to explain that yet, only briefly mentioning a few things about the Blood Cult where he felt necessary, since he was focusing on the rest of the events regarding the start of the War of Blood and Bone.

The topic alone unsettled Forzen greatly, particularly since hearing all the bloody stories just reminded him of some of the things he saw back in Dark Peak, particularly watching Jaarsol’s mate, Kyoren, be murdered in front of him by Spyro. He shivered as the images flashed in his mind, icy blue scales being torn apart, baring pink flesh underneath it that also got split to create rivers of dark red blood. Underneath that was bone, as Spyro had hacked through Kyoren’s body to the bone, tearing out his ribs and using them as daggers to stab Kyoren in the face with them.

Go away, go away, go away! Forzen pleaded silently, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his paws to his head, trying to massage his temples as he felt a headache starting to throb at his mind.

Another unsettling wave washed over him as he suddenly felt Eleizen’s gaze on him. He lifted his head up and looked over to the other side of the room, and sure enough, the disguised venomfang was staring at him.

“Forzen.”

The purple dragon snapped his gaze back to Master Hyrath, who was now glaring at him intently. “Pay attention; this is important for your exams at the end of the term. I don’t want to catch you staring off again, got it?” he said sternly.

“I understand. I’m sorry,” Forzen murmured.

“And Eleizen. Eyes on me, not the purple dragon in the back corner of the room.”

Forzen could feel the disgust and contempt oozing from Eleizen as she was talked down to by the principal, but luckily, she just sucked it up and nodded her head.

For the remainder of the lesson, Forzen found himself half-paying attention to the content. He was trying not to think too much about some of the content that was being talked about, due to the talk of blood and torture and several other awful things bringing up memories of Dark Peak; not only that, the presence of the venomfang in the classroom was still ailing his mind as he tried to figure out what to do about her presence. Should he talk to a teacher about it? Would they believe him? Would they just claim he’s lying? Or would him mentioning a venomfang bring up more reason for others to believe he was evil?

He didn’t know what he should do; he almost felt like it was safer, albeit stupider, to deal with her himself. How would he reveal her true identity to everyone? Would doing that also ‘prove’ the false rumours that people had about him? As much as he didn’t want to fight her, maybe it was the only way to deal with her.

At least she was a venomfang. He had no problem fighting and killing awful creatures such as a venomfang. Those evil creatures deserved death. They were a disgrace to the dragon race, beings created solely for murder and torture. They were soulless, heartless, incapable of feeling any emotion aside from bloodlust and anger.

Eventually, history ended, and it was onto literature. It was a practice exam, so they spent the entire lesson huddled over their desks filling out answers to their exam on the book they had been reading. However, Forzen found himself struggling to focus, with Eleizen sitting a few desks down from him. They were sat in alphabetical order, meaning there were only a few other students between him and Eleizen.

I can still feel her watching me, Forzen thought with a shiver. Ancestors, I just want to get out of here. I feel so unsettled it’s making me feel sick. I’ve seen a few venomfangs in my time at Dark Peak but until now I’ve never felt so awfully threatened by them, even though I’ve always known they were awful beings. She’s actually scaring me quite a lot.

Every time Forzen looked over at Eleizen, her eyes shot back to her paper, acting like she hadn’t spent the last few moments just staring at him, studying him. He feared for what was going to happen after class.

At long last, the bell rung, signalling the end of class, and therefore, the end of the school day. Forzen made his way to his locker as quick as he could, trying to get away from Eleizen. He sighed in relief when he finally got to his locker, stopping there for a bit to catch his breath, before opening his locker and putting his gear inside. He closed it, locked it, and then stepped back ready to head back home.

Only to find himself colliding with Fjor’gand as he stepped back.

I don’t need this now, damn it! Forzen thought.

“Hey moras’tov, watch where you’re going,” the earth dragon scoffed. “You could have killed me.”

“I wouldn’t have, and you know it,” Forzen said. “I’m sorry for running into you. Please just… leave me alone.”

“You started this fight; you can’t back out of this!” Fjor’gand snarled, advancing on him.

“I didn’t start any fight! I accidentally bumped into you; that’s not starting a fight! I don’t even want to fight!”

Too late. Fjor’gand reached forward and tried to claw at his face. Forzen leapt backwards to get out of his grasp, but found himself colliding into yet another dragon, not looking at where he was going.

He turned around and saw red scales. He had run into Eleizen. Frostine and the rest of her friends were standing behind Eleizen, huddled up together in fear. Even Eleizen wore a slightly scared look, and Forzen felt anger at the faked fear she was putting on towards him.

“Don’t hurt me, please!” Eleizen pleaded, stepping back with her friends. “Either of you!”

“Don’t worry, missy. We all share an enemy with the moras’tov here. I won’t hurt you as long as he’s around. Taking down the purple devil is my priority,” Fjor’gand said darkly.

“Eleizen, you don’t fool me. Fear doesn’t suit your kind,” Forzen growled. “And as for you, Fjor’gand, I’m not looking for a fight with you.”

“Do not speak my name, devil,” Fjor’gand snapped.

“What are you talking about?!” Eleizen cried. “Why are you threatening me?”

“Leave her alone!” Frostine exclaimed.

“Why are you trying to start a fight for no reason?” the ice dragoness beside Frostine asked.

“I’m not trying to start a fight, but I will fight her if I have to,” Forzen said, gesturing to Eleizen, who squeaked in ‘fear’.

“Step back everyone! It looks like he’s starting to get violent for once,” Fjor’gand ordered Eleizen, Frostine and their friends, as well as the crowd that was starting to surround them in the courtyard. “I’ve been preparing myself for this moment: the moment where the beast finally snaps, the moment where the monster truly shows his face.”

“I truly do not want to fight; all I’ve been asking since the moment we met is for you to leave me alone. Is that seriously so hard to do?”

“You’re standing here acting all innocent and weak, yet you’re threatening her? Moras’tov, I’ve seen the way you fight in combat class, before you were moved up into expert combat. You have the power of a monster, you’re cold and calm, you’re more skilled than any of us!”

“That’s true; he did a move today in expert combat that shocked even Master Almai!” a fire dragon from the crowd exclaimed.

“Exactly! Do you see my point?” Fjor’gand scowled. “You are a threat to all of us! You are either too blind or too stupid to see it, or too dumb to realise that we’re not falling for your innocent façade, but you are a devil, a monster just waiting to break free from his chains!”

“You think I’m a monster?” Forzen shouted. “No, the only monster here is her!”

Forzen stretched out his wing towards Eleizen, who let out another frightened squeak. “What the hell are you talking about?!” Frostine snapped. “Eleizen has been one of my closest friends for seven years, and you have the nerve to call her a monster?!”

“Frostine, you have to trust me on this.”

“Trust you?! You have no trust! You can’t be trusted!” the other ice dragoness shouted. “Look at who your father is! Look at your scales! Look at your power! One way or another, you’re destined to be evil, to destroy things, to destroy others!”

“Let’s face it, Forzen,” Fjor’gand started, the use of Forzen’s actual name sending chills down the purple dragon’s spine. “You have no friends. You have no future here. Your destiny, like your father’s, is one of evil and malice. I don’t even know why the guardians and Master Hyrath let you come to this school. I don’t know why the guardians let you stay in Warfang. Give up the act. Return to Dark Peak. We won’t blame you. In fact, we all expect it.”

“You all stand here claiming I am the evil creature while the actual evil creature is standing right there, and all of you are oblivious to it!” Forzen scowled. “No matter how much you all allow yourself to be fooled, I won’t! I read your spirit trace, Eleizen! You are no fire dragon!”

Forzen watched as surprise and anger flashed in Eleizen’s eyes.

“You think you can fool us with that claim? I have known Eleizen for most of my life! I know her! She is a fire dragon!” Frostine screamed.

“Stop trying to bring up false leads to lure us away from you, devil!” Fjor’gand snarled, stalking closer to him; Forzen noticed a few other larger dragons were moving forward in the crowd, doing the same.

“Just listen to me, I promise you she’s evil!” Forzen exclaimed.

“Shut up, moras’tov!” Fjor’gand snarled, before throwing himself at Forzen.

The purple dragon stepped backwards, dodging Fjor’gand’s tackle, before several pointy earth missiles were shot at him. Forzen batted the first three out of the way, and used his wind element to catch the fourth one as it shot forward towards the centre of his head.

He was then grabbed from behind by two lightning dragons, before being thrown to the ground and several volts of electricity being pushed throughout his body. He screamed in pain. The pain suddenly got worse as a fire dragon ran up to him and heated up his paws, before pushing his paws into Forzen’s chest. Steam began to rise from his chest as it sizzled from the red-hot heat from the fire dragon’s paws.

“Please, I don’t want to fight you!” Forzen cried.

“Yeah, sure thing, devil,” the fire dragon snarled.

“Plead and scream all you want, we’re killing you right now,” one of the lightning dragons growled.

“Get off me!” Forzen screamed.

Through the three dragons holding him down, burning and shocking him, he saw Fjor’gand looking upon the scene in front of him, grinning with dark glee as he watched the purple dragon writhe in pain. And behind him, Forzen could see Eleizen.

She was smirking at him.

Her ‘friends’ didn’t seem to notice, as they watched the scene in front of them with fear. Frostine turned to talk to Eleizen, and her demeanour suddenly went back to scared. It angered Forzen so much to see this venomfang sneaking into the school and fooling everyone. Everyone was in danger and they weren’t letting him actually do anything to help them, and instead found themselves wrapped around her claws.

Forzen had never felt anger like this before. He hated feeling like this, but he needed to act on it. This venomfang needed to be dealt with.

Now.

Before she could trick anyone else and put the rest of Warfang in danger.

He let out a huge burst of wind from around him, sending the three dragons holding him down flying, and Fjor’gand staggering backwards.

“Ancestors, he attacked!”

“He fought back!”

“Get a teacher!”

“We’re all going to die!”

The frightened screams were sickening. He hated what they were saying about him, what they were seeing him do. This wasn’t a controlled match, this wasn’t a spar. While there had been minimal damage and he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone, he had attacked those dragons. Luckily, they would only escape with minor bruising or grazes at worst.

Staggering to his paws, he pushed his way past Fjor’gand, before rushing back to Eleizen. He punched her. The ‘fire dragoness’ fell to the ground with a scream. Frostine and her friend screamed. Forzen felt himself get grabbed from behind and pulled back again. He was then tackled by five different dragons, including Fjor’gand.

“Hold him down! Hold him until a teacher gets here!” Fjor’gand ordered.

“Get off me!” Forzen shouted.

“You punched her!” an ice dragon snarled.

“She’s not what you think she is!”

“You’re just making up excuses to attack others now that you’re finally comfortable here!” another fire dragon growled.

“I’m not making anything up! She’s a—”

Forzen didn’t get a chance to say that she was a disguised venomfang. Fjor’gand had grabbed his horns and used them to slam his head into the ground violently several times. He kept going, and going, and going, and Forzen swore his snout was broken.

Calling on his wind element, he moved the air around Fjor’gand to shove him to the side, throwing him to the ground and sliding off to the side so he had a clear view of Eleizen. He didn’t plan his next attack. A shriek of sound energy suddenly tore from his throat towards Eleizen, who was just struggling to her paws with the aid of Frostine and the other ice dragoness. Eleizen fell back to the ground, and Frostine and the ice dragoness leapt back in fear of the strange indigo sound waves rushing towards Eleizen.

The red-scaled dragoness screamed in pain, and Forzen swore he could see a flicker of black and green stripes.

The sound element can disrupt illusions! he thought proudly.

The dragons on top of Forzen beat his head into the ground, stopping the attack. Fjor’gand rushed up to hold the purple dragon’s head still, squashing his face into the pavement. A few more dragons rushed up to help, some holding the back of his head to keep it in place, others standing on top of his tail to keep him grounded and unable to use his tailblade to attack others, not that he was planning to.

I have to use one more wind attack on you all. I’m sorry, Forzen thought.

He pushed out with his wind element, and all the dragons pinning him to the ground were thrown off him. Hastily, Forzen stood, and aimed at Eleizen. Another shriek tore from his throat at her. He quickly glanced around him and saw more dragons rushing to throw him back down to the ground. He put up a lightning barrier around him, stopping them from getting inside.

Meanwhile, Eleizen had collapsed onto the ground rolling around and screaming in agony as the deafening sound waves enveloped her. Everyone watched as her red scales started to flicker. She raised her paws to her ears, before clawing at the side of her head.

Her blood was green.

A few fearful cries and gasps went out through the crowd as they watched green blood similar to that of a venomfang pouring from Eleizen’s flesh, her red scales going black, touched with green stripes.

Forzen didn’t let up the shriek attack. He amplified it, hoping to kill the venomfang using it.

However, a loud roar sounded beside him, as Fjor’gand rushed forward, braving the lightning barrier around Forzen. He leapt into the air, feeling the lightning coursing through his system, but he completed the leap and crashed into Forzen, ending his attack. Fjor’gand clawed and punched at Forzen, who was still trying to gather his bearings from being thrown to the ground so suddenly.

Forzen kicked out at Fjor’gand, finally separating the earth dragon from his body. Forzen stood and created distance between him and Fjor’gand. The earth dragon stood, before screaming at him, his voice trembling. “YOU MONSTER! HOW CAN YOU CLAIM YOU’RE NOT EVIL WHEN YOU STAND THERE DOING THAT TO HER?!” Fjor’gand screamed, gesturing towards Eleizen.

“I attacked her for a reason,” Forzen said, as calmly as he could. “As you know, I don’t attack others. I don’t fight, and I most certainly don’t kill.”

“I’m not claiming you were trying to kill her! I’m claiming you were trying to turn her into a venomfang! I saw those black and green scales and the green blood!” Fjor’gand snapped.

“I can’t turn people into venomfangs,” Forzen replied bluntly, and he watched as Fjor’gand’s face fell.

Fjor’gand somehow seemed to get the feeling that Forzen wasn’t lying. For the first time, Fjor’gand believed him. The fear on his face was proof of that. However, the earth dragon was still adamant that Forzen was trying to do something evil, and he stood there trying to make excuses.

“I don’t know, you could have been putting an illusion on her, on all of us! You could have been trying to pit us against each other, to make us fight amongst ourselves, while you waltz around and kill the rest of us!”

“I can’t create illusions either. No matter what excuse you try and come up with, none of them will ever come close to the truth. That fire dragoness over there is a venomfang.”

All eyes turned to Eleizen. She was pulling herself up onto all fours, her friends now keeping their distance from her. “Eleizen. Tell us it’s not true. It can’t be true!” Frostine exclaimed. “We’ve been friends for seven years! You can’t be a venomfang!”

“Why would I make something like this up?” Forzen asked. “Some dark dragons have the ability to disguise themselves, occasionally taking on the forms of others, and over the years, more and more of them have received this ability. ‘Eleizen’ is one of them.”

“That’s not true! Eleizen, prove to us, to everyone, that you’re you!”

Eleizen didn’t respond. She brought her paw to her bleeding head and wiped it, pulling her red-scaled paw back to see dark green blood smeared across it. Her crimson eyes finally flashed a bright, toxic green, her pupils slitting. “I didn’t realise Lord Spyro had taught you how to read a spirit trace. I wonder if Lord Spyro himself forgot as well, since he was the one who sent me,” Eleizen growled, her voice now low and raspy.

“No. No! No, this can’t be happening!” Frostine sobbed.

“He wouldn’t have sent me if he knew the plan would be flawed, or maybe he just thought you weren’t as in tune with being able to sense a spirit trace as you were,” the venomfang said with a dark grin. “But my task isn’t over yet. I will take you back to him. I will take you back to Dark Peak, back to our dark lord. And then once I return you, he will reward us. For you: power. Power and rule.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of what he has to offer me,” Forzen growled.

“You better listen to your father, Purple Prince. You know what he’s like when he’s angry.”

“I’M NOT GOING BACK!”

“Then I’ll just have to take you!” Eleizen snarled. “I’ll knock you out and take you back, and maybe I might have some fun around here as well. Lots of bodies to break, lots of flesh to feast on!”

Without hesitation, Forzen let out another shriek at Eleizen, and she stood her ground, wincing in pain as the indigo sound waves surrounded her. Her red scales flickered black and green, and she wobbled as she stood. She looked beside her through the sound waves, seeing Frostine and the other ice dragoness staring at her with terror.

Forzen suddenly realised with horror what was happening.

She spat venom.

He stopped the shriek so he could call on his wind element, reaching out to try and catch the globs of thick green liquid in mid-air. The venom came to a halt mere millimetres away from Frostine’s face. Frostine screamed with fear as she scrambled away from the disguised venomfang.

Eleizen didn’t stay disguised for much longer. She’d finally chosen now to lower her disguise. There was no point trying to stay disguised when her true identity had already been given away; everyone had seen her scales flicker and green blood dripping down her face.

Besides, part of the disguise was shrinking herself down to be the size of a twelve-year-old. As the size of an adult dragon, there was no way she could lose against a bunch of kids.

And so, her scales rippled into sleek, shiny black scales with green stripes. Her flesh went green and her teeth grew into long, terrifying fangs. Her tailblade became long and jagged. And she grew.

Very soon, a full-sized venomfang stood in the middle of the school courtyard.

Panic took hold of everyone.

Eleizen swung her tailblade around, intent on slicing through the bodies of a long line of teenagers behind her. Forzen saw this move, and instantly reached out and sent a blast of wind out from between Eleizen and her targets, sending the other students flying backwards out of Eleizen’s reach. She then whirled around and sprayed poison at some more students, to which Forzen also used his wind element to catch the poison in the air.

He then launched himself at her, wanting to distract her from the other students. He latched himself onto her head, reaching around and digging her claws into her cheeks, before flashing his claws upwards. He felt green blood staining his claws, as well as something squishy as he pierced Eleizen’s left eye with one of his claws.

She roared in pain, throwing her head around, finally managing to throw him off her. He was sent flying into a group of teenagers, feeling many bodies collapse underneath him and on top of him. They all scrambled to get up, which they did just in time to dodge some poison globs that Eleizen had hurled towards them. Forzen caught them in the air just in case.

Forzen stood and let out another shriek at Eleizen, disorienting her and deafening her, before he quickly put a stop to his attack and let out a flurry of lightning attacks, a mix of lightning breath, orbs of lightning that he formed in his paws and threw at her, before leaping onto her head again and clawing his way in, ready to perform the killing blow on the crystal in her head.

Eleizen snarled, before she held her breath, before pushing outwards. Glowing venom shot out of her wounds and the spaces between her scales, and Forzen quickly used his wind element to get out of the way of the venom spraying out of her. The venomfang turned around and cackled, venom dripping down her face and head, stopping Forzen from grabbing onto her head.

Forzen roared, creating a large tornado around Eleizen and lifting her up into the air. He didn’t think about this however as Eleizen spat out more globs of venom from inside the tornado. She didn’t even care about aim, she just wanted to attack someone. Globs of green liquid flew out of the tornado in every direction, and Forzen found himself struggling to hold them all in the air. The toxic bombs rained down on the courtyard, leaving large puddles of green liquid everywhere.

Most of the teens had managed to escape the poison rain, but three of them weren’t so lucky. They went down, poison splattering over their bodies, before they started screaming and howling in pure agony.

By this point. Three teachers had been brought to the scene: Master Almai, Mistress Galia, the visual art teacher, and Master Talvor, the teacher for the lower levels of combat classes. They all screeched to a halt in horror at the sight before them: students fleeing from the scene and running around in terror, poison splattered all over the ground as well as hanging suspended in the air, three students downed with poison sprayed all over their bodies, and in the middle of the courtyard, Forzen fighting a large venomfang.

“Talvor, go to the barracks and get Cynder. NOW!” Master Almai shouted, and Master Talvor sprinted away without a second thought, a streak of lightning following behind him as he used his lightning element to speed himself up. “Galia, get the children to safety! I’ll help Forzen!”

With that, Master Almai turned and barged his way into the fight, trying to be careful of the poison puddles covering the ground, watching as the venomfang clawed Forzen across the face, leaving behind deep, bloody gashes that ran from one cheek, across the bridge of his snout, to the other. She lashed out at him again, trying to catch his eye like he had to her, but was shoved away as Master Almai slammed into her from the side, causing her to stagger backwards.

The venomfang snarled at him, before immediately spitting venom at him. Master Almai cried out, dodging the attack, but he suddenly noticed the attack screeching to a halt before it was even close to hitting him. He looked down and watched as Forzen leapt into the air, his fist sparkling with lightning, before he punched the venomfang in the cheek in a spot that didn’t have poison dripping down it. There was a crackle of electricity as the blow made contact, and the venomfang snarled in pain and anger.

“Look at you, scrambling for help from one of your weak teachers,” she taunted. “This will be fun!”

She leapt at Master Almai, who sidestepped her lunge. She stepped towards him, thrusting her head forward with her jaws outstretched to bite down around his throat. He batted her away by smacking her in the side of the face, before shooting an earth missile at her. She smacked it sideways with her wing.

Master Almai tried again, and this time watched as it shot forward faster than he had released it, watching the wind part behind it. The venomfang tried to deflect it with her other wing, but it tore straight through her wing membrane, before embedding itself into her clawed eye. She screamed, reaching forward to pull it out, but Forzen leapt up and with a huge breath, let out another gust of wind, using it like a hammer to push the earth missile even further into the venomfang’s eye. Her scream was awful to listen to.

“It’s over, Eleizen! If you can even be called that anymore!” Forzen growled.

“Eleizen?! But that’s a student!” Master Almai exclaimed. “She’s in intermediate combat!”

“She was a spy, sent here to get close to me and recapture me!”

“Call me whatever you want; we have no names!” the venomfang hissed. “But sure, call me Eleizen. Soon Warfang shall know of the dragoness who attacked her schoolmates, her teachers, and took Forzen back to Dark Peak, before returning home and digging herself a grave! So yes, you can call me Eleizen!”

“You killed the real Eleizen and buried her, didn’t you?” Forzen accused.

“Does it really matter? No one will know the real story once I’ve massacred everyone here! For all anyone knows, I AM ELEIZEN!”

“What the HELL is happening here?!” a new voice screamed as Cynder landed, Master Talvor behind her.

“Ignore this! The kids, NOW! They’re poisoned!” Master Almai snapped, feeling slightly wrong that he was ordering his old boss around, but hardly caring due to the kids’ safety being at the front of his mind.

Cynder took a closer look around the battlefield, noticing the three poisoned students lying scattered in the courtyard. “You, and you!” Cynder ordered, pointing to Master Talvoy and another student who was still standing around, hiding behind a large tree and spectating the fight in equal parts awe and horror. “Grab the other two and bring them to me!”

She then reached forward and grabbed the closest student, lifting him up gently in her jaws, wincing as blood and melting flesh dripped from his face and onto the ground below him, before rushing backwards as far from the fight as she could. Master Talvoy grabbed an older girl, whose flank was sizzling away, her flesh also melting and turning grey, and the other frightened student had brought back a younger girl, who had poison splattered all over her wings and running down her sides, causing almost her entire torso to rot away. The girl could be saved but unfortunately her wings would have to be amputated. The older girl would survive with mostly scars. The male would have a disfigured face, and most likely, an eye that didn’t work.

Meanwhile, the fight continued in the middle of the courtyard. Master Almai swung his clubbed tail around, slamming it into Eleizen’s face hard. Green blood sprayed from her mouth, a few droplets landing on Master Almai. He then let out another earth missile, which Forzen once more propelled forward with his wind element. The earth missile slammed into Eleizen’s neck, and she hissed with pain.

She swung her tailblade around, the awful jagged edge swiping across Forzen, leaving a nasty, deep cut running up the entire length of his right flank, dark blood spilling aggressively from the wound. Eleizen continued the swing, bringing the tailblade up and slicing across Master Almai’s chest. He staggered backwards, collapsing to his haunches as blood spilled from his chest, the wound awfully deep. He swore when he realised just how deep it was, and how close Eleizen had been to cutting out his heart.

Master Almai got so lost in the thought that he was too slow to dodge Eleizen’s next attack. She flung herself at him, digging her fangs into his neck. She bit down so hard that Master Almai thought she would bite clean through his neck; he could feel the pressure, the pain, the massive fangs searing into his flesh. He cringed as he felt her thick, wet tongue lapping at the blood spilling from his throat into her mouth.

He looked down and saw Eleizen’s lips pulling into a nasty grin around his throat. He reached up, gripping her jaws firmly and trying his hardest to pull her off him. Forzen used his wind element to also try and force open her jaws. He cried out in pain as the air moved around his raw wounds, deep and bloody, painting his entire neck dark red. Finally, the sickly long fangs had been pried out of him, and with a surge of energy, Master Almai pulled even further, hearing a loud crack come from Eleizen’s jaws.

The large earth dragon stepped back and suddenly felt very nauseous, his neck burning with incredible agony. He looked back at Eleizen’s wide, broken jaws and saw small green droplets hanging from her fangs, mixing with the dark red blood that covered her teeth, lips and tongue.

She had poisoned him.

Not wanting to leave Forzen alone, he rushed over to Cynder anyway. He would die if he didn’t, and he was no use to Forzen if he was dead.

The moment Master Almai bailed, Forzen let out another shriek at Eleizen, and she cried out in pain, staggering backwards. He held the attack as long as he could, intensifying it as much as he could. He watched as more green blood spilled from Eleizen’s earholes, and some even began to spill from her nose and under her eye sockets.

She lashed out, swiping at him with her claws. Forzen dodged her first attack, but her second one got him, her claws digging into his other flank, sending him sprawling to the ground. He got up and released a strong beam of lightning that caused Eleizen to falter.

“ENOUGH OF THIS! JUST COME WITH ME!” Eleizen screamed angrily, her words slurred due to her broken jaw.

“Never!” Forzen scowled.

Eleizen just roared in frustration, slamming her paw on the ground with rage.

Forzen just laughed. “Let’s face it, you’re stuck! You only know how to kill, but Spyro needs me alive! You need me alive, otherwise this whole mission of yours was pointless!” Forzen taunted. “How do you win now, knowing you can’t resort to just killing me?”

“I will beat you into the ground until you are unconscious, and then I will drag your limp, saggy body back to your father and plead for forgiveness!”

“You think Spyro will forgive you? He has no forgiveness in that black, evil heart of his! Besides, he has a whole army of dark dragons. You’re expendable! He can easily replace you!”

“His slaves are expendable! Not us!”

“You do his bidding, do you not? Are you not just slaves in a different way?”

“SHUT UP!”

She tried to make the first move, spitting more poison at him, but Forzen caught the poison in the air once more, bringing the attack to a halt. He then noticed the earth missile was still digging into Eleizen’s throat, and so reached out and used his wind element to make it move again. He put a huge amount of force behind it, watching as it shook around inside Eleizen’s throat as it tried to continue moving again.

Eleizen screamed in rage, lunging at the small purple dragon with her claws ready to strike, before she collapsed to the ground right in front of him as the earth missile finally gained enough force and acceleration to tear through the rest of Eleizen’s throat, shooting out the other side.

Forzen stepped back, still controlling the earth missile, as he turned it around and shot it back into her neck the other way, and it shot cleanly in one way and out the other. He did this several times, before Eleizen’s throat was covered in bloody holes, strings of flesh hanging from the wounds, and her head wobbling on top of the neck due to how little flesh was now holding the neck intact. Forzen could see four thick arteries that pulsed with green energy, marking those as the ones connected to the crystal inside her head.

The purple dragon turned the earth missile around, ready to sever each of the arteries and kill Eleizen, but the venomfang rolled over, and the earth missile went soaring into the pavement. The earth missile shattered as it slammed into the hard ground, and Forzen cursed as he realised his best weapon had now been destroyed.

Groaning in pain, Eleizen stood up, her head hanging loose on her neck as she was barely in control of it. Her neck was like a fountain of dark green as blood poured from it and covering the floor in puddles of dark green.

“This isn’t over, Purple Prince of Darkness,” Eleizen spat. “Even if I do lose, Lord Spyro’s forces will come back, stronger, and stronger, and stronger! You cannot win! He will recapture you, and he will make you his dark prince!”

“I am not his prince. I am not his son. I will never join him. Now die, creature of evil,” Forzen growled.

He lifted his paws and bent the wind around Eleizen to his will. He felt the space between the holes in her neck and pulled. Green blood sprayed everywhere as the remaining pieces of flesh were torn apart, lifting her head from her neck. However, the four glowing arteries remained intact. Forzen dropped Eleizen back to the ground, before stepping forward through the puddle of dark green blood and with a large swing of his tailblade, severed each of the arteries, one at a time. Eleizen’s screams grew more and more painful with each severed artery, before she was silenced when the last one was cut.

Soft green mist rose from Eleizen’s neck. She was dead.

Forzen stood over her, suddenly feeling the pain searing through his flanks, and he collapsed into the puddle of green blood, almost slipping on it as he fell. He felt his head spin from the pain, but eventually managed to struggle back to his paws. He stepped backwards, being cautious of the puddles of venom still on the ground. As he stepped away from the battlefield, he still noticed the large amounts of bright green liquid suspended in the air. He let go of his complete hold on the wind element, and the venom came splashing down all over the ground.

He turned around, covered in his and Eleizen’s blood, and suddenly saw the looks of everyone around that was still present. Horror filled the gaze of everyone in the courtyard, including several new teachers that had run in to try and stop the fight before realising that a venomfang had intruded into the schoolgrounds. Even Master Hyrath was there, looking at the small purple dragon with terror.

Forzen looked over to Master Almai, who sat there with Cynder and the other downed teenagers. His gaze was touched with awe, but still had quite a lot of fear in it.

And then he looked over at Cynder. She was the most afraid out of everyone there. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. She trembled. She whimpered. She was on the verge of tears. Forzen didn’t even know Cynder was capable of tears.

Forzen had never seen Master Almai or Cynder afraid. That really scared him.

Finally, he looked back towards the venomfang, and his heart dropped. The carnage he had left behind was brutal. Eleizen’s head had not been severed cleanly. Instead it had been mutilated and obliterated by his wrath, all from one speedy earth missile that had moved with more speed and more power than was natural for an earth missile. Her left eye had been torn apart, both from his claws and from another earth missile of Master Almai’s that Forzen had drilled into it, a mixture of green blood and optic fluids spilling from it. Her mouth, drenched in a thick coating of Master Almai’s red blood, lay wide open in a silent scream, wider than it should have been due to her cracked jaws. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth limply. Green blood spilled over the rest of her face from her nose, eyes and earholes, as well as the long cuts that Eleizen had given herself over the side of her head.

Yes, she was a venomfang. She was one of Spyro’s dark dragons. She was one of the only dragons that Forzen would ever swear violence on. But looking at the carnage still made him sick.

In previous training sessions he’d had over his time in Warfang, he had preferred to go against the shadowfang dummies cleanly, trying to cut his way into an opening where he would then use his lightning element to overload its systems and destroy its life crystal that way. But Forzen wasn’t able to get to her head where the crystal was located, as she had drenched her head in venom that would surely kill him as well. He could have tried to get in close to her neck, but by that point, adrenaline had gained too much control of him, and he had already watched Master Almai, as well as three other schoolmates, go down poisoned. He had just wanted Eleizen dead, and quickly. At that point, he had subconsciously given up on clean killing.

One more look at Eleizen’s decimated throat sent his stomach revolting. He lowered his head to the ground and threw up violently, each retch agitating the savage cuts in both of his flanks.

Once he had finished throwing up, he turned back to Cynder and Master Almai. “We… we need to talk,” Cynder said, her voice trembling. “You, me, your teachers, the guardians, Muras.”

“Later,” Master Almai said firmly, trying to take control of the situation; his voice was hoarse and croaky from how badly wounded his throat was. “Now, we need to clean up this… this mess. All the students still here, go home. School’s over, especially now. And you three who were poisoned, go to the infirmary to get the rest of your wounds looked over; hopefully they don’t scar.”

“If you need any support after what you all just witnessed, this is just a reminder that we do have counsellors and support circles here that you can get in contact with,” Master Hyrath added. “Now go. We’ll keep everyone updated if we’ll even have school tomorrow, due to this mess in the main courtyard, as well as needing to process everything that just happened, both mentally and in terms of the school.”

As the students began to file out of the schoolgrounds, Master Hyrath made his way towards Cynder, Master Almai, and Forzen, talking in a softer, lower tone once he was standing right in front of them. He tried to stick closer to Cynder and Master Almai, quite wary of Forzen.

“I will be setting up a meeting with all the guardians tomorrow regarding this. I want all of this sorted as soon as possible. I want to know exactly what happened, and I want to prevent something like this happening again,” Master Hyrath said firmly and quickly, before turning to Forzen. “And you. If you are to stay in this school, I want no more of that monstrous, beastly fighting, do you understand?”

“Master Hyrath, if I may, he was just trying to protect everyone from that venomfang… from… Eleizen,” Master Almai croaked slowly, trying to pick his words carefully, and also trying to fight through his initial fear towards what he had just seen Forzen do. “I know the display might have been more barbaric than I think anyone, including Forzen, would have hoped, but he did not do it out of malice. Do not fault him for going all-out, as insane as his powers may be. You know that everyone else would give it their all too. No one would hold back on a foe like a venomfang.”

The principal narrowed his eyes, looking between Forzen and Master Almai. “We’ll see,” he eventually huffed. “It depends on how tomorrow’s meeting goes. Now you two, go to the infirmary as well and get your wounds checked up and your bodies cleaned of all the blood, both yours and that toxic demon’s. Cynder, you’re dismissed and free to go.”

Cynder nodded, trying to put on her strong, emotionless exterior once more, even though Forzen could see through it that she was still beyond terrified. She then turned and flew away, leaving the scene.

Forzen just stared after her, feeling bad. Did I scare her like that? No, surely not. But what else could have scared her that much? She’s dealt with venomfangs and the rest of Spyro’s army for twelve years. I didn’t even know she could feel fear, Forzen thought.

“Hey,” Master Almai croaked, his voice cutting through Forzen’s thoughts. “Let’s go. We should both get ourselves looked at.”

Forzen looked up at the large earth dragon, before suddenly noticing Master Almai’s own neck wound. His throat was mangled and torn, large punctures from Eleizen’s massive fangs sinking deep into his flesh, red blood pouring from the wounds. It wasn’t anywhere near as brutal as the state Forzen had left Eleizen’s throat in, but it was still ugly and uncomfortable to look at.

“Are you okay?” Forzen asked.

“I’m fine. Cynder got all the poison out, same with the other three teens that got hit. We’ll probably all come out with various levels of scarring though; the other kids will probably have it way more severe than me,” Master Almai said. “Now let’s go, before we lose too much blood. Your flanks aren’t looking too good.”

“Yeah… let’s do that.”

Chapter Text

“Glad you two slowpokes could finally make it,” Cynder growled as Muras and Forzen walked into the meeting room in the Warfang Temple. “I was sure you would bail.”

“Cynder, enough,” Torialis snapped. “I know tensions are high, based off what I heard from Master Hyrath, but I do not want any needless antagonising and jabs at anyone, is that understood clearly?”

“Yes,” the voices of everyone currently present in the room echoed, including the other three guardians.

Sitting around the large meeting table were the four guardians, Master Hyrath, Master Almai, Cynder, Frostine, Fjor’gand, and two older fire dragons, who Forzen assumed were the parents of ‘Eleizen’. Muras and Forzen found a spot to sit between Master Almai and Torialis. The younger purple dragon shrunk in on himself as every eye turned towards him, the many gazes filled with fear, anguish, rage and hatred. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the two fire dragons at the other end of the table.

“Now, I heard briefly what happened from Master Hyrath, but he only saw the very last moments of the fight where Forzen slaughtered the venomfang that had claimed to be Eleizen,” Torialis said. “I want to hear the recounts of each of the main teens who Master Hyrath believed to be involved in this: Forzen, the one who in the end killed the venomfang; Frostine, Eleizen’s closest and longest friend; and Fjor’gand, the one who Master Almai had said claimed to start the fight before the venomfang showed herself, according to the student that had come to fetch him. Did anyone want to go first?”

“Me! I’ll go first!” Fjor’gand shouted. “That devil over there doesn’t deserve to have a say!”

“Fjor’gand…” Master Almai growled.

“What? You know it’s true, Master Almai!”

“Young Fjor’gand, did you or did you not agree to my request of no needless antagonising?” Torialis snapped, causing the younger earth dragon to reel back in shock at the leader of the guardians suddenly raising his voice at him.

“I… I, uh…” Fjor’gand stammered, a bit taken by surprise by Torialis’ growl. “I did, s-s-sir…”

“Good. This goes to and from any party in this room. I don’t care what your personal stance on Forzen is right now, but during this meeting, you are not to antagonise him, understand?”

“Yes, Torialis…”

“Good. Now, as per your request, you may go first.”

Don’t make up crap about me, please. That’s the last thing I need right now, Forzen thought, tempted to say it out loud but too scared to.

“So, school had just finished and we were all putting our stuff away. As I was on my way to my locker, Forzen decided it would be a good idea to throw himself into me to try and knock me down,” Fjor’gand started.

“That’s a big fat lie and you know it!” Muras snapped, pointing his claw accusingly towards the fifteen-year-old earth dragon.

“Let him speak, Muras,” Torialis growled through gritted teeth. “Continue, Fjor’gand.”

“Anyway, after he did that, Forzen had turned back and decided to tackle Frostine, Eleizen and Kaala as well. I decided to instigate an altercation to try and stop him from attacking anyone else. I had some other students back me up and help in keeping him down, but we weren’t able to contain that dev… Forzen’s fury,” Fjor’gand explained, catching himself as he saw Torialis, Ash, Muras, and Master Almai glaring daggers at him for almost causing Forzen a devil again. “He kept throwing accusations at Eleizen and threatening her, saying that she was evil and a monster.

“We didn’t believe him, of course, because who in their right mind would believe that somehow, a student that we all knew who had been at the Academy for years, was suddenly a venomfang in disguise, ready to kill all of us. But… I don’t know how in the ancestors’ names he was right, but he was. It must’ve been some evil spell that Forzen or someone else had put on her, because she turned into a venomfang right in front of all of our eyes and attacked us.

“I hid soon after, not wanting to get killed, so I didn’t really see most of the fight, but I heard all of it. And I saw the state that he had left Eleizen in after he… I don’t know, killed is too light a word for what he did to her… mutilated her, I guess. I have never seen anything so horrific in my life. A neck should not look like that, even after a beheading. He was torturing her, he was having fun with it, I swear. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. I’ve seen beheadings from previous sieges, and even the dark dragons don’t cut off heads so messily. One clean strike and their work is done. Forzen on the other hand? I don’t even know what he did since I wasn’t looking, but whatever he did was not normal.

“He somehow turned Eleizen into a massive, adult-sized venomfang and brutalised her and had fun doing it! Do you see now what monster you’ve let into this school, into this city?! Do you not see how dangerous he is to all of us, and how close ALL OF US are to being OBLITERATED by him?! HE NEEDS TO GO! HE CAN’T STAY HERE!”

“Are you done yet?” Torialis snapped, watching as Fjor’gand stood up, pointing a claw at Forzen, who had shrunk back into his seat.

“NO I’M NOT! HOW CAN YOU STAY SO CALM AS TO HAVE LET THIS DEVIL INTO OUR HOME?! HOW CAN YOU STAY CALM WHILE HE SITS THERE SCHEMING, PREPARING TO DESTROY US FROM THE INSIDE, READY TO DELIVER US ON A SILVER PLATTER TO HIS DEVIL FATHER?!” Fjor’gand screamed, his throat constricting with each scream and his body shaking with fury.

“ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR RECOUNT?” Torialis roared.

Silence.

Fjor’gand stood there, clearly trying to think of a comeback, something to say back to Torialis so he could continue his threats to Forzen, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t get him into even more trouble. He slumped back down in his seat, looking at the ground angrily.

“Alright, if you’ve got nothing more to say about your story, I don’t want to hear anything else from you,” Torialis muttered, before shooting some earth energy towards Fjor’gand.

The earth energy expanded, reaching around Fjor’gand’s mouth, before hardening into solid rock, encasing Fjor’gand’s jaws in a muzzle that kept his mouth clamped shut. An exasperated, muffled shout came out of his throat, but he was unable to form words through it.

“No more. You may ask for permission if you want to speak; only then will I remove the muzzle to let you speak, but you must have something productive and non-antagonistic to say. Now, do you have anything to say about your recount, Frostine?” Torialis asked, softening his voice as he spoke to the twelve-year-old ice dragoness, who seemed very overwhelmed by the situation, particularly having two purple dragons sitting across the table from her.

“I, um… yes…” Frostine said softly, not really making eye contact with anyone. “I do want to… correct Fjor’gand, I guess… Forzen didn’t attack us, he merely bumped into us. We were all scared, unsure whether we were going to get attacked by Forzen or Fjor’gand. No offense, Fjor’gand, but you don’t really have the best track record of being kind to people.”

Fjor’gand growled at her from underneath his muzzle, before slumping back in his seat and watching her tell her version of the story, frustration burning in his eyes. Frostine shivered at the growl aimed towards her, and she tried not to think too much on it, instead focusing back to telling her story.

“We tried to stay back and get out of the argument, but Forzen started threatening Eleizen out of nowhere. I had very confused feelings at the time. It was nice to see Fjor’gand standing up for someone outside of his gang for once, but at the same time, we were absolutely terrified. The way Forzen spoke about Eleizen and talked about being ready to fight her was so scary. When he finally fought back against everyone who had tackled him, I don’t think I’d feared for my life so much before. Sure I’ve lived through sieges, but… I’d never felt so in danger. I only knew that Forzen was Spyro’s son, not much else. Seeing him threaten my friend and fight back against others who were trying to do the right thing… it terrified me more than anything else. I genuinely thought we were going to die, starting with Eleizen.

“The next moments went by in a blur of very confusing emotions. I was scared, I was horrified by those awful shriek attacks that Forzen was doing on Eleizen, and then… I was confused. I remember seeing her scales flicker to venomfang scales. I watched as she bled green. I thought it was fake at first, an illusion that Forzen had put up. But Forzen then claimed he couldn’t make illusions. And as I looked back to Eleizen, the flickering on her scales had stopped when he had stopped the shriek attack, but her blood was still green, and… and it was still coming out of her green.

“I knew her blood was red. Obviously, since that’s the colour it should be. But I also watched her bleed that one day she accidentally stabbed her paw with a pitchfork when we were six. I knew for a fact she had red blood. But as I stared at her, her blood was green.

“And then, she… she started saying awful things—’Lord Spyro’ this, ‘dark lord’ that, ‘power and rule’, ‘Purple Prince’—I didn’t know what to do. Before I knew it, she shot poison at me. Forzen… he caught it in the air and saved me. Then Eleizen turned into a venomfang and attacked everyone else. Kaala and I ran and hid. We were so confused, so scared, that we didn’t even know how to feel when we watched her neck get pelted with that impossibly fast earth missile, again and again and again. We didn’t know how to feel when we watched her fall lifeless, when she stopped screaming.”

Frostine wiped her eyes, suddenly realising she was crying. She took in a shaky breath, trying to control herself, trying to find words to say. “I don’t know if this is even relevant, but I couldn’t sleep well last night after what happened yesterday,” she sobbed. “I was plagued by constant nightmares of venomfangs and purple dragons killing those I loved, killing me… I was plagued by nightmares of Forzen tearing apart the real Eleizen the same way he tore apart the venomfang, his body drenched in red as he laughed at what he had done. Even when I was awake, I saw venomfang silhouettes hiding in my room. I… I don’t know what else to say. I guess that’s it. Thank you…”

“Thanks, Frostine. Now, Forzen. Your turn,” Torialis said.

Forzen shivered as all eyes turned to him. He gulped nervously, before he took a deep breath and started speaking. “Out of the two stories that have been told so far, I do want to say that Frostine’s version leans a lot more towards the truth,” Forzen explained. “However, there are some things missing from her story, which I don’t blame her for, as a lot of it was something that only I knew.

“So, to provide a bit of context, every dragon has what is called a spirit trace, and I have the ability to sense other dragons’ spirit traces. It is something that any dragon can learn, but it is one of the things that I learned at Dark Peak. When doing this, a spirit trace will usually feel like the dragon’s element, their personality, and the purity of their spirit. This was how I discovered that Eleizen was a venomfang.

“I had my first run-in with Eleizen earlier in the day yesterday, accidentally colliding with her between expert combat and lunch. The moment she and I looked at each other, I had a very strong feeling that something was off about her. She unsettled me just by merely looking at me, so I decided that when I got a chance to get a bit closer to her without forcing my way into close vicinity, I would read her spirit trace. I got a chance to as she walked into history class after lunch, and so I read her spirit trace. I felt absolutely no fire, only venom. Her spirit was dark and evil. I know what a venomfang’s spirit feels like and that was it.

“I spent all day trying to figure out what to do with this information, and how to deal with her, since I knew that keeping her around would increase the risk to everyone, especially considering I had a very good feeling that she was only there for me. She couldn’t care less about anyone else, which was exactly what happened; she tried to kill literally everyone else to get to me during the fight; it’s a miracle no one actually died.

“Throughout the day, I think Eleizen was on edge too. I think she kinda knew that I had read her spirit trace, but I’m not quite sure. She just… kept staring at me. I’m not sure whether she was being cautious of me, or if she was just keeping an eye on me, which was what she was sent here to do.”

“So that’s why you two were acting so weird during class yesterday,” Master Hyrath muttered.

“Pretty much. She was staring at me to keep an eye on me, and I was so out of focus because I had found out just seconds before class started that there was a venomfang inside our classroom,” Forzen replied. “It was… very concerning knowledge to have sprung on me like that, and it weighed on my mind all day. That was why I was so on edge when the altercation happened, and it’s why I was so direct with accusing her of being a monster. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve come and told us,” Master Almai said. “You know that I at least want to help you, Master Hyrath is at least somewhat on your side even if he still doesn’t like you, and you have the guardians and Muras to talk to as well.”

“Would any of you have believed me?” Forzen challenged. “Would any of you have thought that my claim of another student in the school secretly being a venomfang? You didn’t believe me during the fight, Master Almai, when I told you that the venomfang we were fighting was Eleizen, one of your own students. It’s such an insane, ridiculous claim, that even you, who has been unashamedly on my side ever since I came here, did not initially believe me.”

“Forzen, I—” Muras started.

“No, Muras. He’s right,” Master Almai interrupted, holding up a paw to silence the older purple dragon. “I questioned him when he said it during the fight. I didn’t believe him. Even as she started speaking about herself taking on Eleizen’s name, I refused to accept it. I doubt you would have either; you probably would have thought him crazy. Any of the others around this table, even more so, to varying degrees.”

“I hate to say it, but Master Almai’s right,” Ash said. “You two, as well as Torialis, are probably Forzen’s biggest supporters right now. And if one of you couldn’t accept it, I highly doubt the other two would as well.”

“You don’t know that, Ash! I might have!” Muras exclaimed.

“Might have. The evidence is clear now, but it wasn’t before the fight happened,” Ash challenged. “If Forzen had come to any of us instead of trying to coax the venomfang out of her disguise, there would have been no evidence. She would still be walking around as a red-scaled teenager, blending in and trying to live a normal life. And if we questioned her, she would probably deny it. Or we’d put ourselves in a very dangerous position where we would make ourselves targets. We wouldn’t know for sure if we were told without the knowledge of what we know now to be very obvious.”

“So if she disguised herself as Eleizen, how did I never notice? I would have noticed if my best friend of seven years was a different dragon,” Frostine murmured.

“Exactly; she was our daughter,” Vala, Eleizen’s mother, piped up, her voice wobbly and filled with emotion. “How in the ancestors’ names would we not notice?”

“My guess is the venomfang can also read spirit traces. I think she read Eleizen’s spirit trace and felt her personality through it, and pieced together how she needed to act to ‘be’ Eleizen,” Forzen explained. “Then she spent her time learning who Eleizen’s family and friends were and how to interact with them.”

“Forzen, did the venomfang say anything else about Eleizen?” Torialis asked.

“She said she took on the name Eleizen, and was determined to spread around a fake story that the real Eleizen was a traitor, attacking her schoolmates and teachers, returning me back to Dark Peak, before returning home and, in her words, ‘digging herself a grave’. I asked her if that meant she had killed the real Eleizen, and with the way she replied, I have a very good feeling she did.”

Vala started to break down into tears, and she leaned into her mate Farim’s shoulder. “What did she say?” Farim asked.

“Something along the lines of ‘does it matter, no one will know the truth once everyone’s dead’. She then claimed that she was Eleizen.”

“So… our daughter is… she’s dead?”

“I’m sorry, but I think so.”

“Forzen, the venomfang said in her ‘story’ that Eleizen would ‘return home and dig herself a grave’, yes?” Torialis asked.

“Yeah, that was what she said.”

“Is there a possibility her body might be at home?”

“Potentially.”

“Farim and Vala, I know this is asking a lot of you, but would you be able to take us back to your place to investigate?”

“What? As in right now?” Farim asked.

“Yes. I believe it might help bring some closure to the situation, especially to fill in the unknown of what happened to your daughter after the venomfang took on her likeness to disguise herself,” Torialis said. “Anyone else is free to come, but if you’d prefer to stay as to not potentially see what we might find, I’ll leave Lagenon here to supervise anyone else wanting to stay.”

“Does anyone want to stay?” Lagenon asked.

“I… I’m scared of what we might find, but… I need to know what happened to my best friend,” Frostine whimpered.

“I will be going; I need to know if one of our students has passed or not,” Master Hyrath said, his voice grim.

The others just nodded and mumbled in agreement. Fjor’gand was a lot more reluctant to go, mainly because he didn’t feel like he needed to, but since he knew he wasn’t going to be released early, and he didn’t want to be left alone with Lagenon, he just shrugged and grumbled behind his muzzle in a tone of ‘I may as well’.

So, they all found themselves on their way to Larim and Vala’s home… Eleizen’s home. They walked in silence, a grim air around them. Larim was whispering softly to Vala; Forzen tried his best not to eavesdrop, his sound element picking up a few of their words. Larim was whispering words of comfort to his wife, as they prepared themselves for the possibility that they might see their dead child buried in their backyard.

Forzen felt awful for Larim and Vala. This was a situation no one deserved to be in. Everyone already had a strong idea of what the outcome would be, but no one was prepared to see it. Forzen already felt awful for traumatising everyone from the state he had left the venomfang in. While he knew he wouldn’t be at fault for what happened to the real Eleizen, he still felt responsible since the venomfang who killed her was here to recapture him. If he wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be here either, and Eleizen wouldn’t be dead.

The last thing he wanted to see was a dead body, particularly one who had fallen to the mercy of a venomfang. The only thing he could picture were the worst things his mind could think of. He tried not to focus on those awful, gory images, but he knew this would be the only way to prepare himself for what he would see. There was no light way around it: the real Eleizen was likely dead, mutilated, and had been rotting in that state from anywhere between one or two days to three weeks, since Forzen had gotten here.

Finally, they made their way to Farim and Vala’s home, where they were greeted by another fire dragon. She was four years old, and very excited to see Farim and Vala, until she saw the state they were in. “Mummy? Daddy? What’s wrong? Who are all these dragons?” the youngling asked.

“Kaida! Slow down!” an ice dragoness panted as she ran up from inside the house to greet them; Forzen guessed that she was a babysitter for Kaida.

“Aileena, can you please take Kaida out to the park or the markets?” Farim asked. “This is… probably something she shouldn’t be around for.”

“Farim? Vala? What’s wrong?” Aileena asked.

“Not now. Please, just… take Kaida out for the rest of the day. I don’t know how long this will take,” Vala pleaded, trying to keep her tears in. “Just… spend the rest of the day outside please.”

“I… okay. Come on, Kaida. We’re going to the park.”

“Yay! I love the park!” Kaida cheered, bouncing up and down where she stood.

Aileena lowered herself down to the ground. “Quickly, on my back,” she said.

“I can ride on your back?!”

“Yes, you can.”

Kaida let out a squeal of delight, before climbing up Aileena’s legs and sitting herself down on the ice dragoness’ back between the back of her neck and her wing shoulders. With that, Aileena made her way out of the house, jogging towards one of the nearby parks a few blocks down.

Forzen watched as Kaida looked back at the rest of the group that was with her parents, and Forzen could briefly hear Kaida’s next remark as they started to move out of earshot. “Ancestors, it’s the scary purple dragon kid!” Kaida exclaimed.

“Shush, Kaida!” Aileena snapped, almost sounding fearful as if she herself had just noticed Forzen’s presence there as well.

Forzen felt sick. Now this young girl was supposed to be told later on that her older sister was dead and wasn’t coming back. This young girl, who was so pure and full of joy and innocence, was about to have that taken away from her. He didn’t know Kaida, or the relationship she had with Eleizen, but Forzen knew that usually siblings were pretty close. He felt awful, knowing that this young girl had one of the closest people in her life ripped away from her, never to come back.

“Alright, this way. We’ll take you to the backyard,” Farim said, leading the large group of dragons through the house and into the backyard.

It wasn’t a super impressive backyard. It was small and empty, and the grass was pretty dry, but it was enough for a small group of dragons to hangout and for some small kids to play around in. However, Forzen knew that this backyard potentially had some dark secrets hidden in it: the corpse of a twelve-year-old.

Torialis, Master Almai and Muras began to patrol the backyard, using their earth element to try and sense anything underneath the ground. Master Hyrath stayed back, mainly to keep watch over Fjor’gand as the younger earth dragon fidgeted with irritation, scratching at the muzzle around his face that he couldn’t seem to get off. It didn’t take long before Muras stopped, and he choked, trying to hold back tears.

“I found her.”

Vala cursed, tears spilling down her face once more. Farim gasped, and even he was struggling to hold his composure now. Master Almai made his way to Muras, helping him as he proceeded to gently dig the body up, while Torialis made his way over to the two grieving parents. “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he told them gently. “If you want to stay here, that’s fine.”

“No. I want to see my baby. I don’t care what she’s like, I need to see her one last time,” Vala sobbed, taking a hesitant step forward.

“I’m here, honey. I’m here,” Farim whispered to her softly as he followed her.

Frostine found herself rushing over towards the hole, also crying. Forzen hesitated, before slowly walking over as well, however he kept his distance as to not get in the way of the grieving parents and best friend of Eleizen.

Muras and Master Almai gasped as they uncovered her. “Yup, that’s a venomfang’s kill. She’s been dead for about a week,” Master Almai murmured.

Vala finally broke down, unable to hold her composure. She stepped back as Muras and Master Almai reached in and slowly lifted Eleizen’s body out of the ground, before sitting down and crying uncontrollably, her husband sitting down beside her and holding her tightly, also crying. Frostine also gasped with horror, before bursting into tears as well.

Forzen felt sick once Eleizen’s body came up above the ground, getting placed beside the hole they had dug her out of. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, her snout indented from what was probably an earth muzzle similar to the one Fjor’gand was wearing right now. Her flesh was grey, and her face was rotten and mangled, the red scales completely melted away to expose the flesh. Dark, crusted blood streamed from her grey, lifeless eyes and the corners of her mouth, and the flesh around her eyes had peeled back significantly, exposing more eyeball than was normal. The flesh drooped around her cheeks, and the inside of her mouth was decorated with black spots and holes, almost as if she had taken a glob of poison to the mouth. She had so many holes in her mouth that it looked like her throat forked into three, the flesh in the back of her throat drooping and sticking to other parts of her mouth.

She had also been sprayed with poison across her chest as well, the scales also missing around her chest, exposing flesh with holes in it that showed her ribs. Inside her ribcage, her heart had shrivelled, and her lungs had melted quite badly. One of her arms was raised up to her chest, and another brought up to the side of her head. Dark blood was crusted around her claws on both paws. The one raised to her chest was still claws-deep in the flesh.

There was a slit to Eleizen’s throat as well, although with the amount of damage the poison had done to her body, Forzen knew that the slit was just venomfang-Eleizen having fun.

“That dent in her snout is likely from an earth muzzle that was way too tight,” Master Almai murmured, stepping away from the body with fear. “And she was buried so well; I wouldn’t have even thought this part of the yard had been dug up and a body put inside it.”

“She would’ve had to have an earth dragon with her. But… how is that possible?” Muras asked.

“The Dark Assassin Corps,” Forzen and Cynder said at the same time, surprising them both.

After a brief moment of shock, Cynder continued. “They were the ones behind the attack at Typhaar. Children, the same age as her, raised the same way I was, trained only to kill. It’s possible that Eleizen—the venomfang Eleizen, that is—brought one with her, an earth dragon, to help silence Eleizen and bury her after she died.”

“It’s barbaric, it’s horrible, it’s… it’s… evil!” Vala wailed. “How could any dragon do this? How could anyone do this to my baby?!”

“It’s like you said. It’s evil,” Forzen said. “Only a creature of pure evil could even think of doing something like this, and that’s exactly what I felt from the venomfang.”

“Torialis,” Master Hyrath piped up. “Fjor’gand would like to talk if that’s okay.”

The earth guardian looked over to Fjor’gand, before sighing and using his earth element to let the earth muzzle fall away from his mouth. “Alright, speak,” Torialis said.

“So… everything you said at school yesterday… everything that happened… it was all real?” Fjor’gand asked.

“Are… are you asking me?” Forzen asked.

“Yes, I’m talking to you, Forzen! Now answer me when I speak to you!” Fjor’gand snapped, using the line he had used on Forzen many times over the past three weeks, however he didn’t sound anywhere near as confident this time.

“Yes. Everything I said was all real.”

“Everything you did was real?”

“Yes.”

“So, you… you protected us?”

An awkward silence filled the backyard. Even Vala’s loud wailing had subsided, and she looked at Forzen with surprise. Forzen looked around, noticing Frostine recalling how close she was to also being poisoned, Frélix look at him with a newfound respect, Muras and Master Almai looking at him proudly, and both Cynder and Fjor’gand struggling to come to the realisation that maybe Forzen did have a good heart.

“Yes.”

Fjor’gand visibly flinched the moment Forzen said that one word. Forzen watched the young earth dragon battling himself internally about it. “No. No, that can’t be true. You can’t have fought that monster, to protect us, right? It’s not possible,” Fjor’gand stammered.

“But it is.”

“It can’t be! You can’t have a pure heart after being raised by Spyro and living in Dark Peak for twelve years! You can’t possibly have good intentions when you bear Spyro’s elements and his colours.”

“What if I do?”

“It can’t last forever, right? It didn’t last forever with Spyro. He didn’t even make it a decade out of the Dark War before he turned dark and started a new one.”

“Fjor’gand, watch yourself,” Torialis warned.

“I’m not trying to be antagonistic! I know it’s hard to believe me but I swear I’m not! I’m just… I’m confused, I’m scared, I don’t know how to feel about… about him—” Fjor’gand exclaimed, pointing with a shaky claw towards Forzen. “—looking out for me, for us! I don’t know how I feel about him being good!”

“You’d prefer him to be evil?” Muras questioned.

“Yes? No? I don’t know!”

“You just want him to seem bad in your eyes so that he ‘deserves’ all of the hatred and violence you give him,” Master Almai accused. “I still remember what you did on his first day in school.”

“I DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!” Fjor’gand screamed, and Forzen was beyond shocked to see him starting to shed tears.

“Fjor’gand…” Torialis said gently, but with a loud yelp, Fjor’gand turned and ran off, spreading out his wings and flying out of the backyard and away from them.

“Well, that went well,” Cynder murmured with a roll of her eyes.

“Cynder, now’s not the time for sarcasm,” Muras said gently.

“You don’t have the right to scold me,” she snapped back aggressively.

“I’m not. I’m saying this as a friend. Everyone’s already at an emotional high due to… everything happening right now,” the older purple dragon murmured, briefly glancing down at Eleizen’s rotten corpse. “We don’t need anything else adding to it. Please.”

“Fine, I guess so…”

“If I may say anything,” Forzen piped up, turning to Farim and Vala. “I want to say I am awfully sorry for how all this turned out. I wish I could have stopped Eleizen from being killed, but unfortunately I couldn’t protect her the way I did her friends. I’ve seen enough dragons die around me recently, and it always hurts to see more go down, particularly younger dragons, dragons with families who love them and care for them. I just hope that it brings you comfort knowing that I brought justice to the monster that killed her.”

“I… I’m sure I speak for Vala as well as myself, but… I… I don’t know how I feel about it,” Farim replied, and Forzen’s heart sunk in his chest. “We’ve heard of you being here, and we’ve always been cautious of you. Even now, we are. I appreciate that you feel sorry and tried to look out for her friends and schoolmates, but… I also heard about how badly you mutilated that venomfang.”

“She was a venomfang doing Spyro’s bidding. She deserves no mercy or empathy,” Forzen said bluntly. “I’m sorry to be so forward about it, but that’s truly how I feel. I’ve seen those monsters in action, and they are the real devilspawn. Those are the creatures that the Dark Overlord created for murder and torture and endless violence.”

“I know, but… you’ve got to think about everyone else who was there. I know I haven’t seen the extent of your carnage, but from what I’ve heard it was horrific, and you did that in front of other kids, either your age or a little older. Yes, they’ve lived through sieges and all that before, but the majority of them probably haven’t seen so much carnage so close before, particularly committed by someone that they fear an extreme amount.”

“I have to agree,” Master Almai said. “While I was impressed and commend your fighting skills, particularly having never seen you against a foe like that, watching you adapt and learn how to fight her, I can’t help but think of everyone else who watched that. I’m sure you would have noticed, but even I was scared, and you know I haven’t been all that afraid of you at all since I started teaching you. The dexterity you have with your elements is incredible and a force to be reckoned with, and you have incredible power behind your skill as well.

“When everyone fears you the way they are, seeing that is only going to make it worse. They know what you’re capable of. You might see it as protecting them and taking down a foe who deserved it, but others are going to see it as you mercilessly slaughtering someone that you hate. If they think you hate them because of the prejudice they’ve put onto you, they will start to fear what you might do to them. I think that’s what’s happening to Fjor’gand right now. You saw just how scared he was.”

“Yeah… yeah, I did. I never thought about it like that…” Forzen mumbled sadly, staring down at his paws, the very paws he used to manipulate the wind that tore that venomfang’s head off her neck.

“Would it be possible if… if you guys all left now? Particularly the two… purple dragons?” Vala murmured.

“Sure. We’ll all give you time to grieve,” Torialis said with a nod. “We can find a place to store Eleizen’s body while you sort out where you would like her to be buried.”

“No. We’ll keep her here,” Farim replied. “Our family line, for centuries and centuries, has always believed that it was more respectful for a fire dragon to be cremated, to return them to the element they were born from. Eleizen was also a firm believer of this. I would like to spend a few last moments with my daughter alone with my wife, before delivering her back to her element.”

“I understand. I wish you both the best. I pray for peace and hope among you two and your younger daughter,” Torialis replied, before turning to the rest of the group. “Alright everyone, let’s go.”

The rest of them turned and made their way back through Farim and Vala’s house, returning to the main streets. “Alright everyone, I think this meeting is complete now. I think we’ve uncovered everything we can about what happened to the real Eleizen, as well as coming to a consensus on what happened during the fight at the Academy,” Torialis said. “You may all head home. Farewell.”

With that, the guardians turned and made their way back to the Warfang Temple. Master Hyrath and Master Almai returned to the school. Cynder just huffed before bursting into the air, heading towards the barracks. Forzen, Muras and Frostine were stood in the streets alone. Forzen suddenly felt very awkward, seeing the ice dragoness standing a few steps away from him. She turned to him with a terrified expression, but Forzen swore he could sense a gleam of gratefulness in her eyes.

“I, um… thank you… for saving me from being poisoned yesterday,” Frostine murmured quietly and slowly.

“You’re welcome,” Forzen said.

Frostine just studied him for a few moments, as if trying to tell if he was genuine, before she nodded and spread her wings, flying off in the direction of her home.

“We should probably head home too; you’ve had a big few days,” Muras suggested.

“That sounds good. I just want to go home and be by myself. Had too much tension and fighting with other people over the last two days,” Forzen replied.

“So, what are your thoughts on everything that was said today? What are your thoughts on Forzen?” Almai asked Hyrath as they walked back towards the Warfang Academy.

Hyrath sighed, hesitating for a bit, and Almai didn’t know what he was about to say. He couldn’t read him. It didn’t take long for him to finally respond, but his voice and expression was so blank, Almai didn’t know if he really meant it.

“Better than they used to be,” Hyrath murmured.

“How so?” Almai asked, pressing a bit further.

“I’ve been wary of him since he had the tour of the school grounds. I wouldn’t say I hated him, but I definitely didn’t like him. I only went out of my way to ‘protect’ him so that it wouldn’t start any unnecessary fights and make other kids feel safe to bully and beat up others, because I know it would go beyond just the purple dragon if we let it get too far,” Hyrath explained. “Besides, you saw what those bullies did to him on his first day of school. I only saw the incident report, but even just reading what happened angered me.

“But, seeing how he cares for others, even if they despise him, and will protect them when they’re in trouble from creatures he grew up with, creatures that most think he would side with… it’s made me think more on his true intentions. It almost feels too real for it to be faked. Maybe Forzen really is a good person with a pure heart. Maybe he isn’t a dragon to be feared.”

“He’s really not,” Almai replied. “He’s scared to fight others in class, and doesn’t want to hurt everyone, and he’s really polite. He’s also just… very scared and shy, so he doesn’t interact much.”

“I know, I’ve definitely noticed that,” Hyrath agreed, making Almai smile slightly. “It’s a lot for a dragon like him to take in, being in a new city, new home, his first school, and particularly when all the students hate him so much… when all the other grown citizens hate him so much too.”

“I wonder if there’s a way we can help everyone grow to like him a bit more.”

“I’m not sure. Because even if people realise he’s good, there’s still a lot of fear surrounding him. It was like what Fjor’gand said. Spyro didn’t last long being good-hearted before he decided to pursue darkness. What if Forzen makes that same decision? What if Forzen turns dark and betrays everyone who believed him to be good? Take in mind what you told Forzen earlier as well: people will fear what he will do to them because they fear that he hates them for what they’ve done to him. That display of raw skill and power from someone as young and untrained as him is scary. It will scare anyone, even someone like Cynder.”

“I… I guess you’re right.”

It didn’t take long before they arrived back at the school. Walking into the main courtyard was a snap back to reality as they saw dragons and moles cleaning up the courtyard from the green blood and gore, as well as the large amounts of venom that had been sprayed all over it the day before. Underneath the puddles of venom, it had corroded into the concrete bricks and the gardens, leaving behind some large holes in the ground.

In a large metal container was the body of the venomfang that Forzen had slain, her mangled face peering up over the top of the bin. Almai assumed the body would later be burned. He shivered as he looked at it, trying not to think about the events of last night too much. It had traumatised him enough already, as had seeing Eleizen’s mutilated corpse. Sure, he had spent years in the military, and he had seen some awful things, but what happened yesterday had really shaken him quite badly.

He was just thankful, throughout all of that, that Forzen was on their side. He had a good feeling that Forzen would absolutely annihilate him in a proper all-out battle. Even with his size and experience advantage, Forzen had him beat with skill and power, and he had way more elements at his disposal too. Not only that, but he had beaten a venomfang, which was a feat even most adult dragons couldn’t say they could do. And he had been able to take the time to toy with the venomfang before killing her, whether he intended to do that or not.

Almai wondered just how strong Forzen was. What would he be like when he grows older? He would be an unstoppable force.

Maybe we need someone like him as an ally. I don’t think we can beat Spyro without someone like him, he thought. I know we have Cynder but I think he even has her beat.

It was crazy to think of the possibility of how much power Forzen had, and how much skill and control he had over his elements. He had never heard of using the wind element to catch elemental attacks in the air before, for example. That was something Cynder had never done before. Then there was the way he used wind manipulation: prying a dragon’s neck apart with it, after supercharging an earth missile to become a deadly bullet. Almai winced remembering it was his earth missile. He shuddered at the thought of helping create such a deadly weapon.

“You okay, Almai?” Hyrath asked.

“Yeah, I’m just… thinking,” Almai murmured.

Hyrath followed Almai’s gaze; he was still looking at the large metal container that held the venomfang’s corpse. He sighed. “That was a full-on fight. And a rather worrying one too,” Hyrath said. “I’m just glad no one else died from it. I would hate to be losing more children and putting them all at risk.”

“I’m just glad it’s over. I was actually really scared; I’ve been so out of practice from fighting venomfangs that I was sure I was going to get killed. I’m just glad Cynder was there to help when I got poisoned,” Almai murmured, reaching up to his neck, which had a few scars on it from where the venomfang had bit him and injected him with venom. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what was scarier, the venomfang or Forzen.”

“I only caught the end of it, and even though I will say I’m leaning more towards liking Forzen now, I would still answer Forzen. That feat was astounding for a dragon of his age, let alone to cause as much carnage as he did on a foe so deadly and with so many more advantages than him.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” Almai murmured.

“Anyway, I think you should head home,” Hyrath suggested. “School’s out for the day so it’s not like you have classes to teach. Besides, you’ve had a massive two days, given the fight yesterday, and the meeting today, not to mention poor Eleizen’s body being buried inside her backyard.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to try and draft up some letters to each of the parents of the students in the school. There’s no doubt that word has spread about the venomfang attack and Forzen slaughtering her, and I am certain that many parents are scared for their child’s safety here, particularly with Forzen around. I want to try and send out letters to everyone to try and ease that.”

“Oh. Okay, well I wish you good luck with that.”

“Thanks. Ancestors know I’ll need it.”

With that, Hyrath left, and Almai turned and made his way out of the schoolgrounds, walking slowly back home. Even after all the thinking he had done today and yesterday, he still returned to his thoughts once more, thinking over and over about everything that had happened over the last two days. The fight, the gore, the slaying of the venomfang, pulling out Eleizen’s body from the ground and watching her parents break down in grief… it all came rushing back to him.

As he thought about it, he realised he hadn’t even told his wife about what had happened. She had asked him about the bruises, the thin scabs running along his body, the scarring around his neck, but he had just told her that he would tell her later. He hadn’t felt like talking about it while he himself was still trying to process what had just happened, and he also didn’t feel like he was allowed to tell her quite yet.

“Home already?” his wife, Kyliss asked when he walked in the front door.

“Yeah, school was cancelled today. I went in for a meeting with Hyrath and the guardians,” Almai explained.

“Is this about what happened yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you able to talk about it now?”

Almai knew it would be a good idea to, but… he was scared to. He stood there, looking at her, struggling to make a decision. He watched as Kyliss sighed sadly, standing up from the rug she was lying on, before nuzzling him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Please, Almai. I’m worried. You came home covered in scars and bruises yesterday, which I know isn’t normal for a teacher,” Kyliss said, and the fear in her voice made Almai’s heart sink.

“I… sure. Let’s sit down.”

Almai guided Kyliss back to the rug she had been lying down on earlier, before they both sat down on it, looking at each other. Almai’s gaze briefly went down to her large belly, their first ever egg forming inside her. He suddenly felt the fear from yesterday all over again. All the emotion from today hit him even harder. He had been so happy to finally bring another life into the world, to finally have a child of his own, that he didn’t even think about what type of world he was bringing this child into.

He saw the grief-stricken faces of Farim and Vala again, seeing their daughter’s week-old corpse in front of them, left in a state of gruesome decay. As much as he wanted to avoid doing so, he ended up putting himself in their paws. His child wasn’t even out of its mother’s body yet, but already he had felt such a strong connection to it that the moment he thought of it in the same condition as Eleizen, he found himself in tears. He found himself able to contain his sobs, but his tears slipped with ease from his eyes.

“Almai. What happened?” Kyliss pleaded. “You’re worrying me.”

So, he explained to her about the venomfang attack, about how he’d gotten poisoned and was very lucky to have Cynder there or he would have died. He told her about how the venomfang disguised herself as Eleizen, and how they spent the last part of the meeting today trying to find Eleizen’s body in her own backyard.

“Almai, I’m scared,” Kyliss whimpered, shuffling forward to get close to him.

Almai wrapped his wings around her protectively, stroking her back with a gentle paw. He rested his chin on her forehead, and he winced as he felt her trembling in fear.

“I know. I am too,” Almai whispered.

“That new purple dragon you teach already scares me; hearing he can do that terrifies me even more.”

“He’s a good dragon, Kyliss, trust me.”

“I’m trying; I’ve been trying since you first said that to me, but… I’m still scared of him. And then there’s the venomfang attack, and that dead girl… Almai, what world are we bringing our child into?”

Almai looked down at her stomach again, and he reached down to put a large, protective paw over the top of her belly, over the top of their child.

“I don’t know. But just know that I will do everything in my power to protect our child from Spyro’s forces of evil. I will do whatever I can to make sure that it is safe. You can trust me on that.”

“So, what happened at the meeting?” Takeila, Fjor’gand’s nineteen-year-old sister asked him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fjor’gand scowled as he walked into the house.

“You were the one going on about how much control you were going to have over the meeting, being there for the entire fight, right? Don’t tell me you couldn’t make them believe your side of the story?”

“Well my side of the story was wrong!”

“That’s absolute dung, since when has anyone in our family been wrong about anything?”

“Maybe now!”

“Okay, now you really gotta tell me what happened.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything! It wasn’t your meeting!”

“When it involves my younger brother coming home like this, I think I deserve to know,” Takeila growled, walking up to him and staring down at him.

“Takeila, just leave me alone already!” Fjor’gand screamed.

Her paw flashed upwards, slapping him across the side of the face. “You don’t get to scream at me like that!” Takeila growled.

“Make me stop, then!” Fjor’gand challenged, before spitting on her paw.

All hell broke loose as Takeila tackled Fjor’gand to the ground, reaching forward and placing a heavy paw on his face, pushing it into the ground. He thrashed about underneath her, screaming bloody murder, but with her placing all her weight on him, he was unable to do much to get her off him.

“Okay, that’s enough!” a rougher voice snarled, and their mother came storming around the corner.

Takeila quickly stepped off Fjor’gand, but their mother still proceeded to give Takeila her own slap across the face. Fjor’gand tried to get up to his paws, but his mother slapped him across the face too. “Mum, what was that for?!” Fjor’gand exclaimed.

“For starting it,” their mother scowled.

“What?! But Takeila attacked first!”

“You spat on her!”

“She still slapped me before that!”

“You antagonised her!”

“She antagonised me as well!”

“You didn’t answer her very simple question!”

Fjor’gand wanted so badly to scream, yell, or even hit her. Instead, he also spat at his mother’s paws, before whirling around and storming off to his room. “You go up there, you disgusting pig, and you’re stuck in there for the rest of the night without dinner!” his mother threatened.

“See if I care! I don’t want food anyway!” Fjor’gand snapped.

He slammed his door shut behind him. He then heard his mother on the other side of the room cursing behind her breath, before he heard her put up a thick layer of earth around the door. He then heard his older sister walk up to his door and giggle mockingly. “Enjoy starvation, you little brat,” she teased.

“I said I’m not hungry!” Fjor’gand shouted. “If you want to mock me, make sure it’s for something that actually matters!”

“Takeila, away from him! Now!” came the voice of their mother from down the hall.

“Seriously, Mum?” Takeila groaned.

“Yes, now get away or I’ll lock you in your room for tonight too!”

“Ugh, fine.”

With that, his older sister was finally gone. Thank the ancestors for that. He made his way to his bed, slumping down on it with a huff, looking out at the window. It was nearing the end of the day now as the city began to glow gold under the near-sunset sky. He had spent most of the afternoon sitting alone in a park trying to figure out his emotions after he had run off from Eleizen’s place.

This was why he didn’t rush straight home after leaving the meeting early. His family had quite an ugly personality. His father, Marguul, was prideful and scornful, like most ice dragons. Marguul was always out working. Their mother, Farati, was a rough and somewhat violent earth dragoness, who thoroughly disliked being a stay-at-home mother. The moment her kids were old enough to both be going to school was a massive relief for her.

Their parents didn’t really seem to care about them; they only had kids because they felt like they had to, because it was something society seemed to constantly push onto couples, particularly since they had both been mates for seventy years before they finally had Takeila. Both their parents were in their hundreds, making them much older first-time parents than normal—usually dragons had their first clutches between their twenties to fifties.

Growing up, Fjor’gand and Takeila had grown hateful of their parents, but also hateful towards each other. They never liked each other, and were always fighting and making fun of each other. She said she ‘looked after him’, but he had no idea how much of it was forced onto her by their parents, or how much of it was just her saying that to get a sense of ownership over him.

Being around his family had shaped him into such a hateful, aggressive dragon who loved to pick fights and win, always trying to one-up everyone and come up on top. So, moments like what happened today made him feel awful, ashamed, and depressed. He was proven wrong. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew it.

He could never show his family how he really felt about today. He had never felt so much fear and confusion before. Those emotions were unbecoming of someone from his family. He knew he would get absolutely berated for feeling so afraid, and probably even beaten by Farati, to try and whip the fear out of him. Only anger was acceptable.

Spending time in the park alone was good, but he still couldn’t deal with what he was feeling. Everyone was watching him. Everyone knew him as the angry, scary dragon from school, who everyone feared and who everyone submitted to. He couldn’t be seen as the one afraid. He couldn’t be seen out of control. He had mainly spent the time there trying to cool down and distance himself from his emotions, but even as he walked home, he could feel them lying dormant.

The moment he was locked into his room, he finally felt like he could address them. The full weight of the emotions hit him, and he almost collapsed as he felt the fear hit him full force. The images of Forzen tearing apart that venomfang so seamlessly entered into his mind again. The moras’tov was truly a demon in disguise. No normal dragon should be able to have that much power or skill with their elements at the age of twelve. It was beyond unnatural, and it was terrifying.

Fjor’gand remembered feeling the hatred seeping from Forzen when he looked at that venomfang. He shuddered. Was that what Forzen would do to those he hated? Was turning Forzen into his punching bag making the moras’tov hate him?

Would he be next? Would he be subject to the same treatment as the venomfang?

His paw reached up to his throat, rubbing it tenderly as if to see if it was still there. He winced as he thought of that earth missile, shooting at high speeds in and out of the venomfang’s neck repeatedly. He thought of the way those claws reached out to manipulate the wind, ripping off the venomfang’s head.

Do I keep trying to kill him, or do I stop? He needs to die so he can’t hurt anyone else, but what if he grows so much hate for me that he fights back and kills me first? Fjor’gand thought. I don’t know what to do.

He thought about his question to Forzen earlier, and his response.

So you… you protected us?

Yes.

That confused Fjor’gand to no end. Why would Forzen do that? Was there some sort of evil ulterior motive? Was the moras’tov playing mind tricks on Fjor’gand? Was he trying to deceive him to make him believe that he wasn’t a bad person? Was this Forzen’s way of drawing Fjor’gand in close to kill him when he least expects it?

It’s gotta be something like one of those options, right? There’s no way he could have looked out for us from the good of his heart, Fjor’gand thought. He’s Spyro’s son. He’s evil. And if he’s not now, he will be later. That’s exactly what happened with Spyro. I don’t trust him to stay good.

And the moment he turns evil and everyone starts complaining or hiding away in fear, I will laugh because I was right, and no one believed me. That moras’tov needs to die. I swear I will kill him eventually.

His fear and confusion finally returned to hatred, an emotion he was much more comfortable with. He felt at home in hatred and anger. It felt awful, yet good at the same time. It was strange. Maybe it was because it was all he knew? Maybe it was because that’s all his parents ever gave to him? Either way, Fjor’gand didn’t care. He just wanted Forzen gone.

“Dear ancestors, please welcome and accept Eleizen’s spirit, as we dedicate her to you in death,” Farim prayed. “Please forgive us for not committing her spirit to you sooner, as we were fooled by the forces of evil and tricked into thinking she was still alive.”

“We pray that you would provide her with safety and love and understanding, all the things we gave her, and that she will know that even though she isn’t here anymore, we are still thinking of her,” Vala added, her voice wobbling from her sobs. “We thank you for all the time we got to spend with our lovely daughter. She will be strongly missed.”

“We also pray that you help give us the strength to tell Kaida later on. She deserves to know that her sister who she loves so much is never coming back. We also pray that you help give her the strength to get through this. She loved Eleizen so much, probably even more than we loved her, and… it hurts to know that she won’t have her beloved sister anymore.”

“Ancestors, please help us get through this,” Vala sobbed, finally giving into her tears.

Vala felt Farim wrap his wing around her softly, before bringing her in close for a strong hug. They sat there in the embrace for a few moments, before Farim finally let go and stood up, walking a bit closer to the altar which they had Eleizen’s body laid on top of. “Safe travels to the afterlife, my little girl,” Farim whispered, before breathing fire all over Eleizen.

They watched as their daughter’s body burned in the golden light of the sunset. They watched as her body was reduced to ashes, the fire from her father’s breath so hot and strong that it even turned her bones into dust.

Soon, she was gone.

When the fire started to die down, revealing an empty altar with ashes covering the top of it, Vala broke down into tears once more. This time, Farim joined her, his sobs shaking his body.

Grief washed over them so strongly that they didn’t realise Kaida and Aileena had returned from their day at the park until Kaida had sat down next to Vala, resting her head on her mother’s arm.

“Oh, Kaida! You’re back home!” Vala exclaimed, hastily wiping her eyes.

“Mummy? Why are you and Daddy crying?” Kaida asked innocently.

Vala turned to Aileena, who stood behind them all, looking quite awkward. “You may go now, we’ve got this from here,” Vala said.

“Thanks. Don’t worry about payment. Given the situation, I’ll do today for free,” the babysitter said with a soft smile, gesturing towards the altar as she had a strong feeling what had happened.

“You sure about that?” Farim asked.

“Yes. Anyway, um… my condolences. I’m sorry this happened.”

Farim and Vala didn’t get a chance to say ‘thank you’ to Aileena before the eighteen-year-old ice dragoness turned and walked back out towards the front door and leaving.

“So, Kaida… I don’t… I don’t know how best to tell you, but… something awful has happened recently,” Vala murmured as she looked down at Kaida, placing her paw gently around the tiny dragoness.

“Is that why you and Daddy are crying?” Kaida asked.

“Yes,” Farim said, making his way over towards his mate and daughter, getting close to them. “It involves Eleizen.”

“Eleizen? What happened to her?”

“She’s… she’s gone.”

“Gone? Where did she go?”

“She went to a special place. She went to go live with the ancestors.”

“The ancestors?”

“Yes. You know the old spirits from past generations who look after us? Those are called the ancestors,” Vala explained.

“But Eleizen isn’t old. Why did she go to them? Why is she living with them? Was she not happy living with us?”

“Kaida,” Vala choked, hating having to explain all this to her now. “I want you to know that she was very happy living here. She loved us, and she loved you. You were very special to your older sister, don’t you forget that.”

“Then why did she go?”

“Because… because…”

Vala burst into tears again. She couldn’t verbalise it. She couldn’t tell Kaida. No matter how much she knew she needed to. She couldn’t bring herself to let the words out. Farim came to her rescue as he finished her sentence.

“Because she died, Kaida. She’s not alive anymore. And when someone dies, they leave this world to go and live in peace with the ancestors,” Farim explained. “The sad thing is, it means we won’t ever see her again. She isn’t coming back.”

“She’s not? Why? Doesn’t she love us?” Kaida whimpered, tears brimming her large eyes.

“She does. So much. But unfortunately, that’s just how this works. She died, and you can’t bring back someone from the dead.”

Kaida looked back and forth between Farim and Vala. Her face contorted with sadness, and the tears began to spill down her cheeks. “So… I’ll never get to see Eleizen again?” Kaida sobbed.

“No,” Vala breathed, her heart aching.

“I’m so sorry,” Farim whispered.

Kaida didn’t have any more words to say. She just started crying. Vala laid down and pulled Kaida up against her chest. Kaida leaned into her mother’s embrace, clinging onto her chest firmly with tiny claws and crying to her heart’s content. Farim sighed, getting in close and wrapping his mate and daughter in his own embrace.

As they all lay together crying, they all felt a soft whisper touch their hearts.

Goodbye. I love you.

It was Eleizen.

Chapter Text

The last thing Forzen wanted to do this morning was get up and go to school. It was Glaenday, the first day of the school week, and the first day of school since the venomfang incident on Marouday last week. School had been cancelled on Xurday, which was when the meeting had been, and then Lorinday was also cancelled. Master Hyrath had said that it didn’t make sense to have one lone day of school before entering the weekend, and he thought it would be much better for everyone to have another day off to recover.

Apparently, many parents had come to Master Hyrath and other teachers with complaints about their child’s safety, both with the threat of Forzen’s existence, and of dark dragon spies, who everyone also blamed Forzen for, considering the venomfang was only there to get close to Forzen so she could capture him. Many parents had come to him saying how their children had been traumatised from the event, particularly those who had come so close to death: three who were poisoned, and several others who had escaped the venomfang’s nasty tailblade.

Master Hyrath had made it clear to the parents, and even to Muras in case Forzen needed it, that there was free counselling for all of the students in relation to the recent venomfang attack. He claimed that in this current age of darkness, amidst a war, no one would ever be truly safe, but he had vowed that his goal was to do his best to ensure safety for all the students and teachers that attended the school. His goal was to make sure everyone was protected while they learned.

Today was going to be awful. It was going to be awkward and horrible being around everyone at school, but not only that, he had been booked in for a training session with Cynder after school today. It was his second ever session with her, and he was glad that both Muras and Torialis would be there, but just being in the same room as Cynder terrified him, particularly after his last session.

The moment he stepped into the schoolgrounds, all eyes were on him, cautious and terrified. The main courtyard was rather empty, most of the students opting to hang out elsewhere before school started, the venomfang attack still very fresh in their minds, but those that were there were very quick to make their way out of there.

Forzen sighed sadly, grabbing a seat at one of the benches in the corner of the courtyard. He looked around. They had done a good job at cleaning up the courtyard from all the blood and puddles of poison that scattered across the ground. There were still a few dead patches of grass and melted pavement, but the worst parts had been fixed. Forzen hadn’t ever paid attention to what the courtyard looked like before, so it was weird to take it in without the venomfang corpse there, bleeding out onto the ground. He usually walked straight through the courtyard without paying attention to anyone or anything; the fight on Marouday had been the most amount of time he had spent in the front courtyard of the school.

Eventually, the bell rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He stood and made his way to his locker, grabbing his books for maths and literature classes to start the day. The moment he stepped towards his locker, everyone else in their lockers around him stepped back, giving him room. Forzen winced at the terrified looks everyone gave him.

It was strange. Everyone had gone from being so hateful and violent towards him, to now terrified and distant. They wouldn’t even touch him. While he was happy they weren’t trying to beat him up anymore, this was the last thing he wanted to replace that.

He didn’t mean to scare anybody. He was just trying to protect everyone against that venomfang, and against creatures like that, violence is necessary. He also had a large size disadvantage, so he had to be creative. Forzen could see why it scared everyone and understood it well, but it still didn’t make it any less hurtful that he had terrified and traumatised most of the school.

For those who didn’t see the fight? Forzen was worried what rumours would be going around now.

The young purple dragon sighed, before stepping forward, opening his locker and grabbing his books, feeling the weight of every cautious eye on him, everyone silent and still. As Forzen turned, ready to go to class, he looked at everyone, who was still staring at him.

“I’m not going to hurt any of you, you know that right?” Forzen said gently.

“I don’t believe that for a second, moras’tov!” a lightning dragon exclaimed. “We saw what you did! We saw what you’re capable of! None of that is normal for someone of your age!”

“Yeah, you could kill us with ease if you wanted to!” an earth dragoness added.

“But I don’t want to,” Forzen replied.

A confused, unsure silence washed over the dragons. Forzen sighed sadly, shaking his head, before turning and making his way towards his first class of the day. As usual, he sat in the corner of the room, alone. The students almost completely went quiet when Forzen walked in the room, too scared to talk or make any sound once the purple dragon’s presence graced the room.

The day had barely started and he hated this.

Even Master Tegliath seemed a lot more cautious of him than he had before. He had been the first teacher to somewhat help him and look out for him, offering him private tutoring outside of school, which Forzen had only taken two sessions with him so far.

But, Master Tegliath didn’t address his cautiousness, nor did he address Forzen at all in the class. He just taught the lesson he needed to, and the class went along fairly smoothly. Forzen just spent the lesson existing in the back, taking in the lesson and trying his best to take as many notes as he could. He wasn’t comfortable drawing attention to himself to ask a question, and he didn’t think Master Tegliath was comfortable with him walking up to him after class to ask a question or request another tutoring session. For now, Forzen was on his own.

Literature was much the same. Mistress Yorrine was taking the class through the results from the practice exam and giving feedback on things that the class needed to work on, but the air was still quite tense, particularly as Mistress Yorrine was marking the roll. Luckily, she didn’t seem to care much, but Forzen found her hard to read in general. Everyone else was uneasy when Forzen’s name was called out and he responded, acting like they had just been reminded of his existence there and that his existence was a bad omen.

Recess was rather uneventful. He didn’t bother going up to get food, not wanting to worry about getting in a line full of students afraid of him, and he also had no idea how the staff serving the food would react to him. He figured it would be better to wait it out a little bit, and maybe try at lunch. Keyword ‘maybe’. He’d starve himself if he needed to. He’d gone a day without food before, it’s not like it was something unusual for him at least.

Physical education concerned him. He knew Master Ploroth had it out for him; none of the physical education classes had been all that great, and he always ended up with some rather unfair punishments, oftentimes for things he didn’t do. Sometimes Master Ploroth would give punishments to the rest of the class as well, as a way of pitting the class against him and making them hate him more.

Master Ploroth had called on Forzen long before the class had even started. Forzen had arrived there before several of the other students were there, and therefore before even the roll call had begun. “Hey, purple va’gier. Get over here,” Master Ploroth demanded.

Va’gier… ancient draconic for ‘killer’, Forzen thought, thinking back to some of the ancient draconic lessons he’d had with Muras, to help prepare him for some potential insults that several dragons might hurl at him, such as ‘moras’tov’.

Trying to hold in his annoyed huff, Forzen made his way towards Master Ploroth. Walking past some of the students, he was made aware of many of their concerned, scared expressions. He passed Fjor’gand, who instead stared at him with a dark, hateful expression. As he got closer to Master Ploroth, the large fire dragon stepped back defensively, spreading out his wings wide. “Not so close, you freak!” he exclaimed with fear.

“I’m sorry,” Forzen whimpered, shuffling back a bit.

“I cannot, in all good conscience, have you participating in today’s game of pawball after what you did on Marouday, understood?” Master Ploroth said.

That made sense. It was a contact game, where players would often tackle each other to gain control of the ball. After Forzen’s violent display on Marouday, he wasn’t surprised that Master Ploroth was afraid to put him in a game that had the potential to go wrong so very quickly if physical contact went too far.

“Yes, I understand,” Forzen murmured softly. “Was… there anything you wanted me to do in the meantime?”

“I was originally thinking of having you just sit out and watch, but that’s giving it to you too easy. Instead, I want you to run laps all lesson.”

“What? All lesson?!”

“You heard me, moras’tov. Now go!”

“Now? But you haven’t done the roll call.”

“Now! Get to it!”

Not expecting the sudden yell, Forzen burst into action, starting to run laps around the oval while the rest of the class used the field section inside the track to begin playing pawball. He was awfully tired after the first few minutes, and a few times he had slowed down to a walk, only to be yelled at by Master Ploroth from the other side of the oval to pick up the pace.

He had combat next, which he was not looking forward to. He was exhausted from doing nothing but run laps.

All day, Forzen couldn’t think how the day could get any worse, but it managed to get worse as he walked into expert combat, and Master Almai began the class today with: “Today, we’ll be continuing where we left off and do another round of duels.”

All hell broke loose as every voice rose, pleading Master Almai not to pair them up with Forzen. Forzen felt his blood freeze at the thought of having to fight someone else. It was awful enough having to fight Corahgul on Marouday, the combination of him not wanting to fight another dragon and the immense fear he could feel from Corahgul making the fight an awful experience. Now, after everything Forzen had done on Marouday afternoon, the fear was now increased tenfold inside the hearts of every student in the classroom.

“EVERYONE, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Master Almai roared over the ruckus, slamming his tail heavily on the ground. “You know what I said last lesson. I will be pitting everyone up with Forzen at some point. I will not take no for an answer.”

“What if I say no?” Forzen asked.

“Forzen, you know that’s not an option!” Master Almai replied firmly. “We’ve talked about this as well.”

“Just… THINK!” Forzen yelled. “Think for one second about everything that has happened since the last lesson! I don’t blame anyone for being afraid! Even I’m afraid! I know I’m strong; it’s why I don’t like sparring with others, because I’m scared of seriously hurting them. And right now… it’s too soon after the… the venomfang attack. It’s too soon to throw me in there with everyone else. You’re the teacher; you’re not the one fighting me. I don’t think you would be too pleased if you were being essentially forced to spar with me while still processing what you saw back in that courtyard.”

“I… Okay, you’re right. I didn’t think of that when I planned today’s lesson. I’m sorry everyone,” Master Almai said. “I had two sparring lessons planned for this week, but for this week, I won’t get Forzen involved, just to give us a chance to calm down, process everything that’s happened, and mentally recover. But, I do want Forzen back in the ring with you guys for sparring next week, understand?”

“Does he really need to be monitored in the ring with us?” a fire dragon called out. “Does he even need to be here at all? I mean, he killed a venomfang, all by himself. He’s twelve, he had no chances of survival against that thing, and yet he won effortlessly.”

“He didn’t escape unscathed.”

“Neither did you!”

“There’s always room for improvement, even with someone like me. Trust me, he would benefit being in there with all of you. And all of you, even more so. I think you all deserve a bit more of a challenge.”

“If a challenge is all I am to the class, I want no part of it,” Forzen scowled. “Sure, I don’t like the thought of sparring, but if I’m only here to be a mere challenge or potential roadblock to everyone else, I won’t do it.”

“Forzen, you know it’s more than that. You will benefit from this too, trust me,” Master Almai replied. “Now, enough of this conversation; I’ve already agreed that now is too soon to be making you all fight Forzen, so I’ll put that off for both of the sparring lessons this week. He will sit out and watch for both lessons. I don’t want any excuses about fighting Forzen if I pick you next week, unless they are actually legitimate concerns. I won’t take a mere ‘I’m scared’ or ‘he’s evil’ as an excuse.”

“But he is!” an ice dragon piped up.

“Evil, no. Scary, I won’t say I disagree. But your fear can be your greatest weapon in a fight if you know how to use it well. Now, enough of this! Lyrin and Enaria, you’re up.”

Forzen watched as two lightning dragonesses stepped forward, making their way inside the ring. He watched them fight, before the rest of the class followed. He did have to say it was kind of cool watching the sparring matches, since he knew it was all monitored and supervised safely. That didn’t stop him from hating being in the sparring matches, though. He hated the thought of attacking and potentially hurting someone, even in a sparring match. He was surprised to see how brutal some of the blows were, though. Some of them drew quite a bit of blood. He was surprised such attacks and violence wouldn’t be allowed in the school, but as he thought a bit more on it, it was combat class, particularly expert combat. This was the top combat class the school offered, so Forzen didn’t imagine that there would be much holding back involved.

Eventually, the class was over, and it was off to lunch. By this point in the day, he was starting to get hungry, so he made his way to the queue to get served his food. His heart sank as the five dragons in front of him immediately went silent when they saw him arrive at the queue, stopping their conversations with each other to just be cautious about him, shooting him quick, frightened gazes. He looked behind him and saw two more dragons join the queue, but standing a few steps back as to not be too close to the purple dragon.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Forzen said gently. “You don’t have to stay that far away from me.”

The fire dragon at the front shook his head quickly. Okay, worth a shot, Forzen thought to himself as he turned back around.

It wasn’t much better when he got to getting served. The dragon serving him hardly spoke, just stammering in a nervous, frightened wreck, trying to please the scary twelve-year-old in front of him.

“Oh, g-g-g-good afternoon, wh-what would you l-like?” the ice dragon stammered.

“Just a salad with some berries and maybe some cheese as well,” Forzen said.

The ice dragon quickly threw his lunch on the plate and handed it to him. The purple dragon frowned at the slightly messy presentation, but he couldn’t be bothered mentioning it. Instead, he muttered a small thank you, before grabbing his food and walking to the back corner of the lunch hall as usual.

He hated the amount of eyes that were on him as he walked to his spot. He was getting scrutinised by pretty much the whole school, and it was incredibly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to make a scene, so just sat with his back towards the rest of the room, before beginning to eat his food.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, just another lesson where he was spent under watch of frightened, cautious eyes. It was actually kind of distracting from the class.

Ancestors, I hope this all blows over soon, I hate it, Forzen thought.

Before long, the school day was over. He made his way to his locker, put everything away, before walking back through the main courtyard to leave the schoolgrounds. As he did so, everyone stopped. The courtyard was silent. It was like everyone was expecting him to pick another fight. He wanted to say something, to prove that he wasn’t going to fight anyone, but thought better of it and just continued walking. He didn’t want to aggravate anyone or accidentally start something.

So now, he found himself on the way to the Warfang Temple for his next lesson with Cynder. He gulped nervously, fearful of what Cynder would do to him. He knew they would be under the watchful eyes of Muras and Torialis, but it still terrified him. He hadn’t even had another training session with Muras after Cynder had abused him, and then the venomfang attack happened. He was basically having two lessons in a row with Cynder, which was not what he wanted to do.

But first, he had to get permission to enter the Temple from the guards standing out the front of the Temple. It hadn’t gone awfully last time, but it could have gone better; he hoped that he wouldn’t have to spend time convincing them that he had a training session with Cynder again.

“Stop, purple devil. What brings you to the Warfang Temple?” one of the guards asked.

“Can everyone please stop calling me that?” Forzen muttered under his breath.

“What brings you here?” the guard repeated sternly.

“I’ve got a training session with Cynder this afternoon in the training arena. Can I be let in please?” Forzen asked.

“Are you sure about this?” the second guard asked, turning to the first, whispering cautiously. “What if he’s lying so he can get in and break apart the Temple from inside?”

“Frélix did also say that Torialis would be supervising the purple dragon’s training sessions in the weekly guard briefing this morning. Maybe the purple dragon’s telling the truth?” the first guard whispered back.

“A purple dragon telling the truth? Now that would be a miracle if I’ve ever heard of one!”

“Are you going to let me in or not? I really don’t want to be late again,” Forzen deadpanned.

“Oh, fine! Come on, I’ll take you there,” the first guard said with a roll of his eyes, before opening the door.

“Thanks, but I know my way there now,” Forzen replied.

“I don’t care. I don’t trust you, so I’m taking you. Now let’s go.”

This time it was Forzen’s turn to roll his eyes, before he stepped forward and followed the guard down the Warfang Temple’s halls towards the training arena. Inside was Cynder, Muras and Torialis standing in the centre of the room, talking.

“Do I even need to be here doing this?” Cynder asked Torialis, her voice impatient and huffy.

“Yes. You are the only one capable of teaching Forzen his wind element, so that is what your role is while we have him here,” Torialis replied.

“He already knows it! I’d argue he knows it better than me! I’ve never seen anyone use wind the way he did on Marouday, and he learned it all on his own!” Cynder scowled. “Having me here doing this is pointless! It’s a waste of my time, and more time I have to spend with that blasted moras’tov!”

“Don’t you dare call him that!” Muras roared threateningly, pointing an angry claw at her.

“I will call that devilspawn what I want,” Cynder spat. “So stop me, I dare you.”

“YOU TWO, ENOUGH!” Torialis bellowed.

“Hey guys, I’m right here, you know?” Forzen piped up, causing all three pairs of eyes to whirl around to stare down at him.

“Right you are. I’m sorry you had to overhear any of that awful conversation,” Torialis said, before throwing Cynder a brief angry look.

“I’m not,” Cynder scoffed.

“It’s alright. Please, let’s just… let’s get to the lesson,” Forzen murmured.

“Great. I don’t know what you want me to teach you. You’ve already figured out more than I can teach you. I may be good with my element but wind manipulation of that level is something I can’t do, nor is catching another dragon’s elemental attack.”

“Oh, stop complaining and come up with something at least,” Torialis scowled as he walked up to the grandstands with Muras to monitor the lesson. “It if makes you happy we’ll make this the last one until Forzen discovers another one of your elements, how does that sound?”

“Fine with me,” Cynder said with a shrug, before turning to Forzen with a snarl. “Don’t you dare discover one of my other elements, got it?”

“I don’t plan to,” Forzen murmured, staring up at Cynder’s bared fangs hovering in front of him.

“Good. I guess we can do an endurance test today. I’ll set you up with enemies, and you will keep fighting, using only your wind element, until you drop.”

“Don’t be unfair on him!” Muras called from the grandstands.

“SHUT UP AND LET ME RUN MY LESSON, OR I’LL JUST LEAVE AND YOU CAN RUN IT FOR ME!” Cynder screamed at the older purple dragon.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Forzen heard Muras mutter under his breath; Torialis seemed to hear, as he elbowed Muras in the chest disapprovingly, shaking his head.

“Anyway, step in the ring, whelp. Once you’re ready, I’ll keep the enemies coming. To keep you on your paws, I’ll throw in a mix of different ones. And remember, only wind. I don’t want to see any lightning attacks or sound element shrieks.”

“I understand,” Forzen murmured, stepping into the ring, watching as the orange barrier appeared around him.

“Great. Now begin.”

Three full-sized shadowclaws appeared in front of him. They leapt into action, lunging at him, claws outstretched. Forzen shot himself underneath them with his wind element, before summoning a large tornado around them. They spun around at high speeds, before Forzen through them out to the sides, sending them slamming into the orange barrier around the ring.

One of the shadowclaws turned and breathed shadow fire at him, to which Forzen dived out of the way, countering with his wind breath. The shadowclaw was sent slamming into another shadowclaw that was standing up, before the third one dived into its shadow and lunged through the ground at him. The shadowclaw burst up from underneath Forzen, and he barely had time to move. He got away from the lethal blow aimed at his chest, but the shadowclaw still managed to strike into his arm, leaving behind some deep claw marks.

Forzen reached out and felt the air around the shadowclaw, before forcing it down and increasing the pressure around it. The shadowclaw fell to the ground with a thud, groaning and hissing in protest as it felt its body be crushed by Forzen’s wind element. Forzen saw out of the corner of his eye one of the other shadowclaws rush towards him, and so he reached out again, deciding to try something new. Much like the elemental attacks he had caught, he tried to catch the shadowclaw in midair, being fully aware that this was now a much larger target, specifically a target that was larger than him. To his surprise, it worked, and the shadowclaw became frozen in midair, growling in frustration as it tried to move, fighting against the air holding it firmly in place.

Now Forzen turned to the remaining shadowclaw that was making its way towards him. It ran at him with full speed, before whirling around, swinging its awfully sharp tailblade at him. Using his wind element, he fought against the shadowclaw’s momentum, slowing down the attack, before ducking underneath the tailblade as it soared over his head.

He launched himself into the air, flashing his claws up the entire length of the shadowclaw’s neck, causing black blood to spill from the wounds. It staggered backwards, growling in pain and anger. Forzen, still suspended in midair, then brought his claws down across the shadowclaw’s face. It snarled, before letting loose a massive stream of shadow fire at him.

With a large flap of his wings combined with a push of wind magic, Forzen thrust himself up into the air over the shadow fire attack, just in time to avoid being singed by the fire. The shadowclaw lifted its head to aim up at him, but Forzen came down at the shadowclaw at high speeds, aiming down at the back of its head. He brought his tailblade down, digging it deep into the shadowclaw’s flesh and running down the back of its skull and down its nape, leaving a long slice down its nape that bled black.

Turning around and noticing how deep the wound was, Forzen whirled around and let out a blast of wind that shot forward at high speeds, pushing into the large slice wound. The force of the wind blast opened the wound a bit more, making it deeper and wider, before he did it again and again, opening up the wound quite wide. He found himself reaching forward with his claws, grabbing hold of air as if the shadowclaw’s neck was there. He then proceeded to pry his paws apart as if trying to rip open the wound even more, and the shadowclaw screamed in pain as the wind pressure pushed against both sides of the wound in its nape, prying its neck open from behind. The wound got wider and wider, spilling torrents of black gore, before Forzen could see each of the arteries running down its neck, both the ones supplying blood to its body and the ones supplying energy from the dark crystal to its body.

Forzen felt the air around his paws and formed it into some sort of wind blade, before hurling it at the slice in the back of the shadowclaw’s neck. He watched as all the arteries were sliced into two, and a spray of blood shot out of the front of the shadowclaw’s throat as the wind blade shot out the other side of its neck, tearing easily through the remaining flesh that was just barely holding itself together. The shadowclaw collapsed to the ground, black blood spilling from both sides of its neck.

That’s the part I hate doing, Forzen thought, looking at the gore spilling onto the floor. I hate being messy, but I either have to rely on my lightning overload strategy or be messy with my wind element; I’m too small against these creatures to be efficient with my tailblade; I won’t reach the crystal in the chest, nor could I complete a decapitation.

Forzen then turned to the other two shadowclaws. He looked at the one still lying on the ground, getting crushed by wind pressure. He increased the pressure around the shadowclaw tenfold, and it howled in pain as its body was crushed beyond its limit. The compression on the shadowclaw’s body was very visible, the squashing of its form very visible to everyone watching underneath the very visible distortion of air around it.

Its bones snapped as its body crumpled, its flesh breaking down and black blood spilling from the fresh wounds that the broken bones made. There was a cracking sound as the shadowclaw’s ribcage shattered, the broken bones crumpling and shattering the dark energy crystal inside its chest. Purple mist rose from its wounds.

Okay, so that wasn’t as messy, but it took a lot of effort to do. Probably not the most efficient way to fight, particularly in a long-lasting fight, Forzen thought.

That left the third shadowclaw left to deal with. Forzen turned to it, ready to launch himself up at it to start his killing blows, before he was tackled from the side by a large ape. It wasn’t as big as the shadowclaws, but it was still much larger than him. Four smaller apes stood behind the larger ape. Each of the apes bore jagged swords and heavy clubs. Forzen shuddered; it was his first time ever seeing an ape in the flesh and ancestors, they were ugly.

Each of the apes burst into action simultaneously, letting out a raucous battle cry. Forzen whirled his tailblade around, slicing one of the apes across the face, cutting into its eye. He continued his full-body spin and swiped his claws at another ape, slicing it across the chest. They both staggered backwards, clutching their bloody wounds. The third ape made its approach, swinging its sword at Forzen, but he swung his tailblade around and parried the attack, before swiping his tailblade around and cutting the ape’s hand off. The remaining two apes leapt at him from opposite sides, and Forzen let out a wind blast, sending them both flying into the barrier.

Forzen looked down, noticing the disembodied hand lying down on the ground, still holding the large ape sword. He rushed forward, prying open the lifeless fingers from around the sword handle, before using his wind element to lift it up into the air. Using it like the earth missile from the fight against the venomfang, he propelled the sword around the ring with his wind element, slicing through the throats of all of the apes, before turning it around and thrusting it into the shadowclaw’s chest, shattering the crystal inside its chest with a crack and a cloud of purple mist. Blood flew from the wounds of all the victims as the bodies fell to the ground.

He then became aware of a venomfang and a large earthen creature appearing in front of him. The earthen creature was strange, its arms being made of strong branches and vines, as moss covered its large wooden feet, shoulders and face. Long branches rose from its face like horns, and it wielded a large, spiked club, as well as a wooden shield. It was massive, being about the same size as the venomfang. Covering its chest was hardened clay and dirt, and large wooden plates covered in spikes covered its mossy shoulders.

From outside the barrier, he heard Torialis and Muras exclaiming in protest at Cynder, but they were yelling about the venomfang being brought into play, not this new, unfamiliar creature to him. I’ve literally already killed a venomfang on my own; I appreciate and understand the concern, but come on. I can fight this thing, Forzen thought.

The large earthen creature swung its massive spiked club at him, and as he dodged it, it slammed down onto the ground, cracking it from the force of the attack. It swung the club again, and Forzen dodged again. This time, it slammed into the ground where one of the ape corpses lay, and it exploded in a large spray of red blood as its body was completely decimated from the force of the slam.

Meanwhile, the venomfang stood back and shot poison attacks at Forzen. He reached out and caught the poison attacks in the air, before throwing them at the large earthen creature. The barrage of poison attacks slammed into the earthen creature, and there was the sound of sizzling as the poison began to eat its way through the wood that covered its body. Anywhere that was covered in clay and soil seemed to be fine, but the poison was still slowly eating through it.

Forzen launched himself in the air as he noticed the earthen creature take a large swing at him again, propelling himself towards the venomfang. The venomfang rushed towards him and opened its jaws wide, preparing to take hold of Forzen’s body in its jaws and bite down hard, but Forzen was too fast for it to catch him. Instead, its large, nasty fangs clamped shut over nothing, before the earthen creature completed its forceful swing and slammed the spiked club with incredible force into the venomfang’s face.

Green blood sprayed from the venomfang’s mouth as a few teeth were spat out, and several heavy grazes were also present on its cheek, which also bled green. The venomfang roared angrily at the earthen creature, before turning to Forzen, roaring at him. Quickly, Forzen created another wind blade and shot it at the venomfang, and it soared into the venomfang’s open mouth, into the back of its throat, and out the back of its head. A gurgling shriek tore from its jaws as it choked on the blood now running down its throat.

The earthen creature leapt into the air at Forzen, aiming a large downwards blow of the spiked club at him. Forzen let out a large gust of wind that sent the earthen creature flying backwards. As it slammed into the barrier, it dropped its spiked club and shield. Forzen took this chance to lunge at it and begin clawing into its chest, digging his way through clay, moss and soil, before finally digging into flesh, sending olive-green blood spilling down the earthen creature’s chest.

It roared in pain, before reaching up with its small hands and grabbing Forzen, before throwing him off to the side. He looked behind him to see the venomfang swinging its tailblade around, ready to slice him in half in mid-air. He frantically let out a wind blast, sending the venomfang off balance and crashing into the ground, missing its target.

He wasn’t able to stop himself from soaring through the air, so he landed heavily into the orange barrier as well. As he slid to the ground, trying to recover, he suddenly became aware of a soft burning sensation in the back of his eyes. It wasn’t awful, but it stung and was very uncomfortable. He blinked, his vision going in and out of focus. He slapped himself in the face to try and snap himself out of it, and he ducked as a large glob of poison soared over his head.

Forzen got up and ran to the venomfang, ducking underneath another tailblade swipe, before he launched himself up and, aided with his wind element, thrust his fist into the underside of the venomfang’s jaw, it staggered backwards, before dropping to the ground, dazed. He the reached out towards the air around the venomfang, before applying pressure on it much like the shadowclaw he had crushed with wind pressure earlier.

As he let the air pressure do its job, he turned back to the large earthen creature, who had stood up and grabbed its spiked club again. He didn’t have time to react as the club swung around, finally scoring a hit on Forzen. He felt the large spikes dig into his flesh, before the rest of the club hit him and sent him flying off to the side. He landed hard on the ground, rolling around a few times with heavy thuds before he came to a stop. He coughed up blood, and then winced again as the burning in his eyes suddenly got stronger and stronger.

“Stop the fight, please!” Forzen pleaded, but either Cynder didn’t hear him or was ignoring him.

Through his fuzzy vision, Forzen saw the wooden shield still lying on the ground behind the earthen creature, which was now advancing on him. Forzen used his air element to turn the earthen creature around, before taking hold of the air around the shield and thrusting it forward into the exposed flesh in the earthen creature’s chest. The bottom of it pierced through the flesh, splinters going everywhere, and the earthen creature staggered backwards, blood spilling from its chest as the bottom of the shield sat embedded into its chest.

The pain in his eyes got stronger once more, and he let out a scream of pain, reaching over his eyes and screwing them shut. “STOP THE FIGHT!!” he howled.

“For the love of the ancestors, Cynder, turn the simulation off!” he heard Torialis roar, before everything finally deactivated.

The enemies, dead and alive, all disappeared, and the orange barrier dissipated, leaving Forzen lying down on his back in a puddle of red, black, and green blood. Muras and Torialis ran to him, checking if he was okay.

“Forzen, talk to me. What’s happening?” Muras asked.

“I don’t know! My eyes just started burning! It hurts!” Forzen exclaimed.

“Could it be a new element? Fire?” Torialis asked Muras.

“I’ve never heard of fire burning in the eyes like this,” Muras replied.

“Look after him, I’m going to grab Ash.”

Forzen heard loud, frantic pawsteps as Torialis ran out of the room. “It’s alright, Forzen. Torialis and Ash will be back soon,” Muras said softly.

“Can’t you use fire? Why does Torialis need Ash?” Forzen asked in amongst his pained groans.

“Ash might have a better idea on what’s going on. I can use it but I don’t understand it the way he does, being the fire guardian, after all. He was also trained by Ignitus, who was a very skilled user of fire,” Muras explained.

“I’ve never seen a young fire dragon react this way when they discover their element,” Cynder murmured. “Are you sure he’s not overreacting?”

“Oh, you try having the heat of a dozen suns burning inside your eyeballs!” Forzen snapped.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Cynder threatened, and the sound of her pawsteps made Forzen realise she was approaching him.

“YOU HURT HIM AND I’LL MELT YOUR FACE OFF!” Muras roared defensively, to which Cynder actually stopped, to Forzen’s surprise.

The intensity of the heat got even stronger, and Forzen let out another loud scream as steam started to rise from between his closed eyelids. “Damn, this isn’t normal,” Muras murmured.

A few seconds later, Torialis and Ash came sprinting into the training room. “Forzen, it’s Ash. I’m here to help. What’s happening?” Ash asked quickly, breathing heavily.

“My eyes just started… burning! I don’t know what’s happening to me!” Forzen exclaimed. “It happened in the middle of the training session and nothing caused it!”

“His eyes are steaming… that’s not normal for fire. Nor is a burning sensation in the eyes,” Ash murmured. “Forzen, can you open your eyes up?”

“It hurts!”

“I know it does, but please, can I look at your eyes?”

It proved to be a challenge to open his eyes, and when he did, all he could see was a blurry mess of colours, seeing primarily red, which he assumed was Ash leaning over him. However, what Ash and the others saw shocked them. Forzen’s eyes were horribly bloodshot, and they glowed with a faint red. Steam rose in clouds from his eyes once his eyelids opened.

“Ancestors, I’ve never seen this before. I don’t know what to make of this,” Ash said, his voice frantic and confused.

“How do we help him?” Torialis asked.

“Ice maybe? Would that help cool his eyes?”

Forzen watched as a blurry purple figure made his way towards him, and he felt a cold air around him as Muras reached forward with his paws, icy mist blowing from his palms. The sensation of cool disappeared as the heat intensified in his eyes one final time, tearing a scream from his throat.

A blinding red glow built up inside the back of his pupils.

“THAT’S NOT FIRE, GET DOWN!” Cynder screamed, launching herself at the dragons standing around Forzen, tackling them to the ground.

Forzen’s vision went white.

With a bloodcurdling howl of pain, a blinding red beam tore from Forzen’s eyes, shooting up into the ceiling. A massive explosion rocked the room, sending rubble and ashes flying. Muras, Torialis, Ash and Cynder all cried out as the ceiling crumbled and rained down on them, a large hole being left there from the attack.

“What in the hell was that?” Ash exclaimed.

“Plasma. That was plasma,” Cynder breathed, her eyes wide with fear as she shook rubble and dust off her. “He has another sinister element.”

“He what?” Torialis asked.

“He has two sinister elements.”

“What the hell was that?!” a new voice shouted as Frélix, Derilan, and a dragon guard all rushed towards the room.

“It still hurts!” Forzen screamed.

“Is there more coming?” Muras demanded.

“I think so!”

“Aim up, exactly where you did earlier.”

“What’s happening?!” Frélix asked.

“He’s unlocked a new element,” Torialis explained, before another scream left Forzen’s throat and another blinding red beam shot out of his eyes, straight up into the sky through the hole he had torn through the training room’s ceiling.

“Plasma,” Derilan breathed, fear crushing him.

“Yeah… another sinister element,” Cynder growled.

“Derilan, are you okay?” Ash asked, noticing as the cheetah began to shake in terror.

“That… that element was used to decimate my home…” Derilan whimpered. “Spyro… killed everyone… using that element…”

Almost immediately, Derilan’s face skewed from horror to hatred, and he reached for his sword and lunged into the training room towards Forzen. Torialis rushed forward, intercepting Derilan as he swiped his paw around, knocking Derilan down with his palm. Torialis then held him there, as Derilan squirmed underneath, screaming bloody murder.

“He’ll kill us all! He’ll kill everyone! He needs to die!” Derilan howled, his trauma gripping him like a vice.

“No one is dying here, got that?” Torialis scowled.

“Is everyone okay?” Ash asked.

“I think we all are; my main concern is Forzen,” Muras replied.

“I can’t see,” Forzen whimpered. “I can’t see, it’s just spots and white and shapes.”

“Is the pain gone?” Ash questioned.

“Yes. I can’t see.”

“So he’s just unlocked another sinister element, one that could kill us all if he’s not careful with it?” Frélix clarified.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Cynder growled.

“Great, just what we needed! Another element we know nothing about how to control or use.”

“We do have a library we can use to try and find some old books regarding the sinister elements,” Torialis said. “We may have to go looking at those. And Muras?”

“Yes, Torialis?” Muras replied.

“Training starts tomorrow. We need to get his sinister elements under control. We will be learning alongside him, but we need to make sure that he won’t accidentally harm someone, or worse, kill someone.”

“Yes please, I don’t want to do that,” Forzen piped up. “But can it wait until I can see properly again? I… I don’t know what I’m looking at. I can’t see.”

“Hey you,” Frélix said, turning to the guard beside him. “Go grab one of the doctors from the infirmary so his eyes can be looked at. Now.”

“Yes, sir!” the guard responded, before bolting off down the hall and towards the exit of the Temple.

“Muras, I’m scared,” Forzen murmured.

Muras’ heart broke as he heard the young purple dragon’s weak voice mutter those words. It felt uncharacteristic for him, as Forzen seemed to want to try and keep everything together, but this whole experience was breaking him down.

“I’m right here, Forzen,” Muras whispered, sitting down next to him and helping him into a sitting position, before running his paw gently down Forzen’s back. “You’re safe.”

“Am I? Right now I feel threatened. I feel like a threat. I don’t like this feeling, I don’t like this new element. It… it scares me. The thought of… destroying so easily… I don’t want this,” Forzen whimpered, wrapping his tail around himself and shrinking into himself a little. “I’m also scared because I don’t know what this element does to me when I use it. I’ve… never had an element do this to me before.”

“I’ve never seen this happen either,” Ash replied. “Usually, when unlocking an element, or in your case discovering it, they can tend to come off a little strong. I know fire dragons who have gotten some very serious burns when their fire element finally activates within them. I’ve seen many lightning dragons electrocute themselves. I can’t imagine your plasma element will keep doing this to you, but it has come on abnormally strong.”

“Abnormal? You don’t even know what’s normal!” Forzen exclaimed. “No one here has ever seen a dragon unlock plasma before!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I just… I’m scared of this element. I don’t want it. I don’t want sound either; I can literally kill someone by screaming at them for too long at too strong a volume, and even if I don’t kill them, I will ruin their hearing. If all of the sinister elements are as destructive as this… I don’t want any of them.”

“I’m surprised someone like you can feel fear,” Cynder growled.

Forzen couldn’t see what Cynder was doing, but through the spotty white vision he could see a shape that he assumed was Cynder, just staring at him. Hearing her mention fear made him scared that she was readying her own fear element.

“Don’t. Please,” Forzen pleaded, his voice sounding more broken than he had intended it to come out as.

“Whoa, it’s okay, buddy,” Muras reassured him.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Cynder huffed.

“He doesn’t know that. His eyesight’s been messed with; he can’t see you, or anyone right now,” Torialis said.

“Alright, I hear there’s a dragon whose eyesight has taken a bad turn,” a new voice called as a doctor finally arrived.

“Oh, thank the ancestors,” Torialis muttered. “It’s the young purple one in the ring.”

Forzen heard the dragon walking towards him, and his heart sped up, fear and anxiety washing over him. He shuffled himself closer to Muras, seeking comfort. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you; I just want to check on you,” the doctor said, his voice soft and gentle.

“You’re… you’re not afraid of me?” Forzen murmured.

“Honestly a little, but I knew what I was getting into. We were told prior that you were purple, and I wouldn’t have accepted if I wasn’t comfortable doing this. Now, can you tell me what happened?”

“Well, I was… I was training and partway through the fight I felt my eyes start to burn up in the back of them. I tried to push through the pain but the burning got worse and worse to the point where I had to ask for the fight to be stopped. It was… excruciating and awful. It felt like the heat of a hundred suns in my eyes. Then I released the plasma beams and… and now all I can see is white and spots and a few shapes. Like I can see that you’re in front of me but I don’t know what you look like.”

“Okay. Can I take a look at your eyes properly? If you feel pulling around your eyelids, that’s just me, okay?”

“O-o-okay…” Forzen stammered.

He then felt fingers pulling gently around his eyes, raising and lowering his eyelids to have a look at them. The doctor asked him to look up, down, and towards each side as he did so, looking at both eyes as well. He also watched as the doctor held something in front of his face, to which the doctor explained was a special crystal that allowed him to see inside the eye, to see if everything inside was healthy.

“Well, his eyes are very bloodshot and dry from the heat, but that’ll subside over time, and his body’s done what it needs to in protecting him from the insane amount of light he would’ve been exposed to. His pupils are very small right now. As to why he can only see white, I think his eyes just need to get used to it. It’s an element that used to be common many millions of years ago among the sinister dragons, so it is natural. The only question is how you even have this energy.”

“Purple dragons are able to wield sinister elements if their parents have sinister dragon blood,” Muras explained. “I can’t, since none of my parents were sinister dragons, but Spyro can, and therefore since he has sinister dragon blood, so can Forzen. Which of course means that one of Spyro’s parents is a sinister dragon or also has sinister dragon blood.”

“So sinister dragons aren’t extinct then?” the doctor asked.

“No.”

“Hmm, that’s concerning. But at least it’s good news for you, Forzen. Your body has sinister dragon blood in it. You’re designed to handle this element. Unlocking elements can be quite strong for some dragons, and usually the second time they use it is much tamer with much less consequences on their body. I think that’ll be the same with you.”

“What happens if it doesn’t improve?” Forzen asked.

“Then come and see me again,” the doctor said, before turning to Muras. “Doctor Yavian, if you ever need me.”

“Thank you,” Muras replied.

“Now, all I can recommend is rest, and lots of it. Go home, rest, and maybe see if some red gems applied over the eyes will help. I hope it all goes well, and I hope I don’t have to see you again for this problem, but I’m always around if it does become necessary. Rest well.”

With that, the doctor turned and left.

“Alright, you heard the doctor. Let’s head home, rest, and get you some red gems,” Muras said, standing up.

“I can’t see; how am I supposed to walk home?” Forzen murmured.

Muras just hummed in agreement, before stepping forward. Forzen felt gentle jaws biting around his nape, before he was lifted up in the air and placed onto something scaly; he assumed it was Muras’ back. He felt Muras start to move, and they began to make their way home.

When they finally got home, Muras gently placed Forzen down on his bed. By that point, small bits of colour had slowly started to return to his vision, and he could see the larger details of Muras’ face a bit more too. Muras left the room briefly, before returning with a small pawful of red gems.

“Did you need me to break these over your eyes or do you think you can do it?” Muras asked.

Forzen looked down at the ground where Muras had placed the red gems. He could see a fuzzy clump of red in his vision, but he could barely see each individual gem. “I… I think it might be better if you do it,” Forzen muttered.

“Okay. Tilt your head back and look straight up.”

The younger purple dragon did so, and he could faintly see Muras’ paws hovering directly over his face, holding some small red gems inside. He crushed them in his palms, before letting the mist and tiny crystal particles spill down over his eyes. He flinched, feeling them settle over his eyes, before his eyes absorbed them.

Almost instantly, his vision became much clearer. It still wasn’t perfect; his vision was still quite blurry and still tainted with a strong white tinge, but there was a lot more colour back and he could see a lot more detail than he could earlier.

“Did that help?” Muras asked.

“Yeah. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s an improvement,” Forzen replied.

“Okay. That’s good to hear. Hopefully some rest will help it a bit more too. We can break some more red gems over them in the morning if need be.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Listen Forzen, about earlier, it’s… it’s okay to be scared with these new powers of yours. I know they’re a lot to deal with, and they’re very uncertain, since we don’t know a lot about them, but Torialis and I… we’re here to help. We’re going to be learning with you, and trying to help you learn to control these scary elements.”

“You act like you know what it’s like to be scared of your elements. You only have fire, lightning, earth, and all those elements. The basic, normal, safe ones. What do you know about being scared of your elements? What do you know about being scared that you could hurt someone because you have no control over such an unknown element?”

“Because for a time, I was. I unlocked convexity long before I became Malefor. I know you haven’t and might not know what it is yet, but it’s basically an element that only purple dragons—and Cynder—have the ability to possess. And it is scary. It’s very strong and very volatile, and it… it has a darkness to it. I was terrified of it in my late teens when I discovered it.

“Even now, I fear the dark elements. For a time, I had the ability to use them as Malefor due to my exposure to darkness. I haven’t tested to see if I can still use them, and I don’t want to. Poison, shadow, fear… they’re terrifying elements as well. I fear them. They’re most of the elements that Cynder has and I know she still fears them, particularly poison.”

“But there’s lots of information out there about them, particularly since Cynder is here and knows them very well,” Forzen murmured. “With these sinister elements, there’s… there’s nothing about them. Sound already scared me. Plasma terrifies me. I don’t know what the other sinister elements are or what they’re like, but… I don’t want any more of them. There’s so many things we don’t know about these elements and I wish that I could just throw them out of my essence core and not even have the ability to touch them again.”

“I know. But these elements… you’ll have to live with them. That’s why I want to help you learn about them, so that way you don’t have to fear them so much. And the good thing is, you’re good at figuring your elements out. When you have that on your side, as well as Torialis and I doing some research on it and learning along with you, what is there to fear?” Muras asked.

“I don’t know. Just the uncertainty of it all and the danger it poses scares me,” Forzen said, before picking up on what Muras had said earlier. “Do you really think I’m good with my elements?”

“Forzen, you had one very unhelpful lesson with Cynder, where you knew nothing about the wind element, and over time, you’ve grown such a strong understanding of it that even today Cynder went ‘I can’t teach you anything’. You may be powerful, Forzen, but I think your true strength lies behind your skill in your elements, and how in tune you are with them. You may seem clueless and frightened regarding your new elements, like you were with lightning, but given time, I think you can overcome even plasma.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Have a think about it a little. Believing that might help you get your mind off the fear. Anyway, I’m going to leave you to rest now. I’m going to head off to the library to try and find some books so I can do some reading on sound and plasma before our lesson tomorrow. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Alright.”

With that, Muras left the room, leaving Forzen to himself. Forzen knew it was still late afternoon and the sun hadn’t even set yet, but he found himself falling asleep very quickly, the exhaustion from the entire day, particularly from the intense training session, causing his body to shut down and force him into sleep.