Sleep did not come easy for Spyro that night. Once again, he found himself in that unfamiliar pit. Smoke clouded his vision, and toxic gases began to stain his eyes as lava bubbled and broiled all around him.
“This place again…?” Spyro muttered to himself as the dragon found himself wandering over rocks, flying over lava pools when necessary. This place reminded him far too much of those Skelos Badlands back in Avalar, except much worse. He was half expecting a raptor to leap out of the shadows at any moment, ready to clamp its jaws down on him and end his life. Of course, he knew such a thing was… impossible, right? “After all, this is just a dream, even if it’s a very good one. Remind me to A, stop eating those tuna sandwiches before bed, and B, have another little chat with the Dream Weavers about what exactly the types of dreams they’re giving me. Okay, I get it Lateef, the prank wasn’t very funny. Har har, joke’s over.”
Spyro shuddered, seems those Dream Weavers could really hold a grudge. Then again, he noted, they claimed to have no knowledge of what exactly was going on. So either that meant they were lying, or something really strange was going on. Spyro by now was betting on the latter.
“Okay, seriously, mister dark and scary voice, this is usually when you show up about now and try to be all dark and mysterious. So where are you?”
Spyro had evidently never learned of the phrase about speaking of the devil and he shall appear before you. “Ask… and you shall receive young Spyro…” that same deep and gravelly voice from before remarked as behind Spyro, the lave bubbled and broiled. A massive shape began to rise out of the lava, the toxic fumes becoming ever more prevalent. “Well well well, so glad you could join me for another conversion, Spyro. How’s the kid?”
“Don’t you touch him…” Spyro snarled as his scales began to glow a sharp purple charging up his superflame. The shape in the darkness reared back his head and laughed.
“Relax, Spyro,” the dark dragon remarked. “I would never touch your young hatchling.”
“Fat chance! If you’re going to say even you have standards, shove it up your-”
“Ah ah, language!” the dark dragon replied wagging his claw. “It seems we share other qualities besides that of our color. We’re protective of our own really. I have to admire that really.” he remarked almost seeming to smirk.
“Who are you anyways? And how do you know my name?” Spyro whispered as the shape towered above his own.
“You don’t remember me?” the misty black dragon asked holding a claw to his chest. “I’m hurt. We’ve been tied together since time immemorial. It’s taken a bit, I admit, to even claw my way back to the surface so I can… er, speak to you directly but for you not to even remember who I am is just plain insulting! Agh, never mind. Time for you to wake up dear Spyro, we’ll continue this conversation later…”
With that, he snapped his fingers and Spyro awoke in his bedroom panting and sweating hard. He looked towards the now early morning sun and sighed in relief, the world was still there. He then looked towards Cynder and smiled as she snoozed softly, unaware of her mate’s troubles.
“So perfect…” Spyro thought to himself as he slipped back down into her embrace. An hour or so passed, and finally, Spyro managed to drag himself out of bed heading for the kitchen. He needed his coffee before he could face the day, and judging from the fact that Cynder was right behind him she thought the same.
“...You alright?” Cynder asked looking rather concerned. “Rough sleep?”
“...Yeah, guess you could say that.” Spyro mumbled to himself taking a bite out of some toast.
“It’s that dream again, isn’t it?” Cynder asked. She’d known Spyro long enough to know exactly what he was thinking at any given time. “You had it again didn’t you? You need to talk to the Drea-”
“...The Weavers? I have, and they deny any knowledge of any of this. At first, I thought they were screwing with me, but now… I’m beginning to wonder.” Spyro trailed off before taking a sip of his coffee. His cup said something about him being the world’s best dad, a gift from Nestor.
“Still, it would probably a good idea to have another little chat with them, if you were to ask me,” Cynder remarked. “I just don’t want you waking up again due to this… well, whatever it is.”
Around her waist was a frilly pink apron reading: ‘Kiss the Cook’. It was really rather cutesy, and quite girly and definitely not normally something Cynder would be caught dead wearing. But it had been a gift from both Elora and Bianca, so she accepted it without question. It also probably helped that Spyro liked it. Probably. Although that didn’t stop her from wanting to add: ‘and die’ in red stitching at times. She made a mental note about asking Sheila how to sew one day.
“Yeah, I know…” Spyro muttered. “I’ve been trying to fight this dream off by myself, let it pass. If I have it again, I’ll have another talk with the Weavers. Deal?”
“Deal,” Cynder agreed with a small nod. “...Nestor doesn’t know yet, does he?”
“About what? Nestor doesn’t know about a lot of things. I haven’t even had the heart to tell him that you’re infertile and can’t give him the grandchildren he so desperately wants.”
Cynder’s wings drooped and Spyro winced. “...Sorry. Hey, at least he has Spike to spoil, right? And in that same vein, you have him to care for right?”
“Yeah…” Cynder murmured before chuckling. “It’s funny really. Neither of us were expecting for him to worm his way inside our hearts, or to even stumble across him in the first place really. But look at what’s gone and happened.”
“Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?” Spyro remarked and Cynder nodded in turn.
“Yeah, life’s exactly like that. For every right hook it likes to throw you, it then throws you something in apology.” Cynder smiled before wrapping her arms around her mate and giving him a brief but passionate kiss. A gag of disgust came from behind them, and they saw Spike.
“Eww mom, do you and dad mind not doing that in public?” Spike asked. “Pretty sure it’s harmful to minors here!”
“...You sure it’s not something you’d like to do with Smolder?” Spyro teased with Cynder laughing a little.
“I mean, he’s right. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to hop aboard the smooch train with her…?” she joined in as Spike blushed a bright red.
“O-Oh s-shut up!” Spike stammered out before walking off. Later that day as the sun blazed high in the sky he found himself alongside his dad in some sheep fields near the Glimmer Mines in Summer Forest. A soft cool breeze blew through the trees, and the sounds of pickaxes hitting gem in rhythmic motion could be heard echoing up from the mines. Sheep grazed contentedly, unaware that they were being stalked. The grass ruffled, and some sheep looked up in a hint of fear. They soon returned to their grazing before a purple shape darted out of the tall grasses pinning one of them to the ground before torching two more.
“...Smells like victory,” Spyro chuckled standing tall and proud over his kill. “...Oh by Lord Torch’s flames, that sounds so idiotic…”
“...Yeah, it sorta does dad,” Spike deadpanned. “You sound like a real dork.”
“Aww, you wound me!” Spyro chirped faking being shot. Next to him, Sparx did a little facepalming motion at his friend’s actions. For a small little gold dragonfly, he could be remarkably expressive. “Right in the heart, see? You wound your old man!”
“So what are we doing out here, aside from getting those poor sheep to advocate for abuse by dragons?” Spike deadpanned. “Seriously, you’d think by now they’d have raised their paws in protest, complete with signs and all that.”
“Well, it’s teaching you a few things really,” Spyro remarked. “Taking down sheep? In my honest to Torch given opinion, it’s one of the most crucial skills a dragon could and should learn!”
“...Right, mom did tell me you used to bully sheep when you were about my age…” Spike remarked before running the word over his mouth again. Mom, it sounded so strange really. It was a good kind of strange in his opinion but it was still something he was going to have to get used to. He sighed softly to himself, Sp-No, his dad had said they weren’t trying to replace his birth parents, that his parents were part of their family now as well. So what was with him, Spike had to ask himself. Was he being selfish, did he just want his original parents back and to sideline Spyro and Cynder? Goddess, he was being selfish, Spike realized. His father would probably be so ashamed of him if he knew.
“You alright kid?” Spyro suddenly spoke up breaking Spike out of his musings. “You’re being awfully quiet for a change. I admit silence is golden when it comes to going after sheep but with you… it feels wrong not hearing you speak. Snarky your comments may be, it does worry me when you’re not… y’know, making them.”
“...Anyone ever tell you that you’re a babbler?” Spike deadpanned. “Seriously, you are dad. Oh look, there they go!” he shouted pointing to the sheep who were currently making a break for it.
“Well, they won’t be for long!” Spyro shouted readying himself to charge after them. “On three, we charge after them! 1, 2, 3! Here we go!”
Letting out a battle cry for no obvious reason, Spyro ran after the sheep with Spike soon to follow. Using their respective flames, they torched both the grass beneath and gave the sheep a serious case of hotfoot. Spyro’s breath was its normal orange-red color, while Spike’s was a nice green shade. Chasing the sheep into a small wooded area, they finally caught up with the fodder and took them down in swift motions.
Spike let out a whoop of triumph as he dug into his prize. His earlier worries were, for the moment at least, forgotten. “...You know, I’m beginning to see the appeal of this. Gets your adrenaline pumping. Quite a rush!”
“Oh, you think this is fun? I really have to take you to one of the speedways someday soon,” Spyro commented. “Then we can see how fast you really are. Cool fire breath, by the way, I’m almost jealous! Can you do it again?” he asked sitting himself down and wagging his tail like a puppy begging for a treat.
Spike facepalmed. His father could be such a child at times really. He loved him, sure, but he did freely acknowledge his father could be quite the child when he really put his mind to it.
Oh well, Spike thought to himself. It was really rather endearing at times, knowing his father was such a dork. “Oh, so you want me to do that again?” Spike asked. “Well, here we go then!”
He tilted his head skywards, and let out a brief little spurt of flame into a tree, knocking down an apple into his mouth.
“Whoa, dude! You’re quite the little sharpshooter!” Hunter said as he slid down part of the nearby castle, before leaping into the air and landing on his feet next to them. “You’re going to make me jealous in a few years I suspect!”
“Hey Hunts,” Spyro said with a cheery smile upon seeing his old friend before noticing the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
Hunter leaned in close to whisper something in his ear, most of the words going unheard. But sadly, one didn’t. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Gnorcs. His blood going to a boil, Spike rocketed off into the distance. Never again, Spike said to himself. Never again would he allow Gnorcs to hurt another kid as they hurt him.
“Kid!” Hunter shouted reaching out with his paw in a desperate motion.
“Spike!” Spyro shouted in fear.
Hunter turned to Spyro. “Better go after him, before he gets himself into more trouble than he can handle,” the cheetah told him. “I’ll catch up, soon as I alert the guard okay?”
“Got it,” Spyro said tossing his friend a salute before his eyes narrowed as he took to the skies after his son. “...Alright then. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll track ‘em down, they don’t call me Hunter for nothing!” Hunter proclaimed. “You just go after your son, okay Spyro?”
“I swear,” Spyro thought to himself as his wings flapped frantically. “If the gnorcs don’t kill him, I will. What were you thinking kiddo?”
He didn’t even have to answer his own question, as he already knew the answer to that.
He had long been afraid of this happening really. Spyro had been warned by both Nestor and Hunter of this and he agreed. They said that even hearing of a single gnorc patrol being in the area would trigger a response of some sort from Spike. Spyro always hated it when they were right, but right now his chief most concern was towards his son. Spike was young, and yes while he had been around his age when he faced Gnasty, Spyro had only done it because nobody else could. He didn’t have a choice back then. Spike did. And he also knew that in Spike’s state of mind he could do something both very stupid and very dangerous.
Spyro swore quietly under his breath. He knew being a parent was not going to be an easy task by any means, but he wanted to keep his son as safe as possible. Spike, Spyro sighed to himself. In Spyro’s mind, his son shouldn’t have been having to deal with the same things he did when he was his age. It just wasn’t right for a child to take up adult responsibilities, especially when they had a choice.
Yes, Spyro knew he had no room to talk but he had what Cynder had labeled a ‘chronic hero syndrome’ and couldn’t sit down while evil was afoot. It was one of the many things that the dragoness liked about him. Spike should have had to worry about things like girls, and stuff like that. Not about having to deal with the worst the dragon realms had to throw at him.
Then again, Spyro mused to himself, a child of Spike’s age shouldn’t have had to deal with losing his parents at such a young age either and yet look what had happened. He growled to himself, when he finally passed on he and Tiamat were going to be having a few words perhaps needless to say. The Queen of Chaos seemed to love pulling stunts like this towards her children.
Spike found himself running for his life, as Gnorcs with goo cannons chased him through a dark forest, where the trees seemed to grow that little too close together and seemed to be closing in on him. The evening sun began to fall, casting a fiery orange glow over the forest like a raging wildfire. Spike ran as fast as his little paws could carry him, occasionally turning back to fire a blast of green flames at his pursuers. But they had come prepared, wearing armor glistening with silver drakonstone, forged in the finest of mines and smelted by the finest gnorc hands.
Finally, Spike found himself cornered, his back up against a pile of boulders and ruined stone walls. He took in a deep breath before expelling it, a wall of flames shooting up between him and the patrol.
He broke into a sprint once again before his eyes widened as a truly massive gnorc came crashing out of the treeline, ax in hand. He swung, and Spike barely dodged the ax impacting a tree. As its owner struggled to pull it out, he made a break for it. He delved deeper into the forest running as fast as he could. Then a blob of acidic goo nearly hit him, steaming and hissing as it ate away at some shrubbery.
“...I should have listened…” Spike thought to himself. “Instead… Look at me, running for my life all because I got too caught up in my own quest to avenge my parents I didn’t stop to think about whether I should go after these guys. I mean, they’re probably not even the same gnorcs!”
He could see it now, presuming he ever got out of this at all. His father’s stern, disapproving face. He shuddered at Cynder’s expression, not even wanting to think on it. He knew he deserved whatever punishment they intended to give him. Mind you, that presumed he got out of this one at all.
“Oh look, a little dragon all alone!” one of the gnorcs cackled as they closed in. “Hey, wait, I know this one! Isn’t this the one we’ve been hearing about, the one that got rescued by Spyro and Cynder!”
“You know? I think it is!” another laughed. “A fat lot of good he’s doing them, challenging us! He’s such a little shrimp! My god, the two must be so ashamed of him!”
“Eh, there’s not much to be ashamed about,” the first put in. “He’s an idiot. Hell, I think we’re going them both a favor, killing him so that they won’t even have to look at this-”
“Now that’s enough of that!” a voice boomed through the forest as the gnorcs’ eyes widened in abject fear. A tall figure stepped out of the treeline bearing an amberish grey coat and a turquoise mane, almost like a lion’s. Said mane was now alight with pure flames, and the creature’s eyes glowed an etherial sharp white. Spike was caught between two emotions, fear and wonder. “I’d say you harassed this young one quite enough. Now leave, before I force you out!” the creature said stamping her hoof. The gnorcs promptly complied.
As they scampered off, the tall pony dragon crossbreed walked over to Spike, kneeling down to his level and dispelling her flames. “Shh… Shh… It’s okay, I won’t harm you young Spike. I’ll keep you safe, at least until your dad shows up. Come, my village awaits.”
“...You know my dad?” Spike asked. For a brief moment, he wondered if he could trust this creature. But then again, she had just saved him for no obvious reason. So surely she couldn’t have been a villain, right?
“Well, not personally, no. But I do know of him by reputation. I owe his father, and your grandfather a great debt, really,” the creature said as they strode into a small village where house met tree. Nature seemed to be in perfect harmony with civilization as smaller versions of the mare(?) chattered quite animatedly with each other. Spike vaguely remembered seeing a few creatures like these back at the Festival. “If he hadn’t found me when he did, my village would have probably stayed silent for many more years.”
“...Stayed silent? What do you mean, and who are you?” Spike asked.
“You may call me Rain Shine,” the kirin introduced herself before her tone turned sorrowful, regretful looking every part of her years. “Years ago, a foolish mistake was made you must understand. I forced my people, the kirin, into a stream to quell our emotions only not realizing I may have struck them with even greater torture. Can you imagine, young Spike, never having the ability to feel anything again? To not be able to even speak? To want to express your thoughts but because of your own leader’s foolishness it is impossible to even do so?”
“...No…” Spike whispered.
“Pray you never know this feeling, young one. Pray you never do. Nestor and his uncle Boldar helped my people out of this hell of my own making. They found a cure for the stream, and for that…” Rain Shine whispered fighting back a tear. “Well, enough of that hmm? You look like you could use something to eat. Let us fix that.”
Meanwhile, Spyro flew rapidly over the forests of the ever colorful Autumn Plains. Interestingly in Avalar, some spell cast long ago created these freaks of nature. Lands always stuck in one season or another, never changing even as the year went by. This was why places such as the Peace Keepers realm never got rain and Dragon Shores always seemed to be a paradise while the Badlands stayed as a hell of sorts. All because of the spells cast in what Spyro had heard was a great war between dark and light long ago. A great dragon, whose name had been lost to time led a crusade against the world, and the forces of good fought back. Lives were changed by this very battle, and even one of the great Alicorns of legend had been corrupted and sent to the stars.
But that was then, and this was now. As Hunter dashed through the trees, leaping from limb to limb Spyro caught a faint green glimpse below and he dived. His throat glowed orange before he covered a gnorc encampment with a torrent of fire. The gnorcs fled, and several were put down by shots from Hunter. Spyro landed in front of the regiment commander and shoved him up against a tree claws wrapped firmly around his throat.
“Tell me.” Spyro growled. “Tell me where my son is.”
“I’d listen to him if I was you…” Hunter said as he drew back his bow. “His patience is pretty then. Be lucky it’s my best bud you got and not his mate. You wouldn’t even be alive right now if that was the case. Oh Spyro, should I send Sparx out to go find Cynder, or…”
The gnorc’s eyes widened in fear. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk! Just please, for god’s sake, don’t call up that bit-”
He was soundly sent through the tree by a headbutt from Spyro. “Please refrain from insulting my mate, if you know what’s good for you…” the purple dragon growled out. “Now I’ll ask only one more time. Where is my son?”
“Some crazy ass lady took him, I didn’t catch much of a glimpse. She was tall, I know that much! And she looked like she was about to burst into flame! That’s all I know, I swear!” the gnorc pleaded. “That’s everything!”
“Is it?” Spyro asked with a small growl as he raised his claw ready to strike.
“I swear, that’s all I know! I swear! Scout’s honor!”
Spyro with a glare sent the creature running. “...Jeez, you really have changed,” Hunter observed. “And I thought you hated gnorcs before. But now? Man, you looked ready to rip him open…”
“When my son is involved, I’ll do whatever the hell I have to okay Hunter?” Spyro whispered before his wings drooped. “Torch above… He could be anywhere!”
“Well, not anywhere. I mean, we sorta have a description to go on. Wrapped in flames, that doesn’t describe a lot of beings does it?”
“No… Not really,” Spyro replied not really paying attention truth be told. “...Torch above, I’m such a terrible father.”
“I think you’re doing fine, all things considered,” Hunter observed. “You’re a little new at this, so there’s bound to be a few mistakes along the way. But the look in your eyes right then and there when you were about to rip that gnorc open? That was love, pure fatherly love. No other way of describing it.”
“...I suppose. It’s just, well… If I were better at this I would have stopped Spike from going off in the first place and-”
“Stop right there Spyro, and just shut up and listen. Nestor and I told you this was likely to happen, both of us,” Hunter stated firmly as he looked his friend dead in the eye. “We couldn’t keep avoiding the issue forever, Spike was bound to do this. Now, are you going to sit wallowing in self-pity, or are you going to find your son?”
“...Let’s go.”
“Good, there’s the Spyro I know!” Hunter smiled.
“Okay, now the flames… As you said, there can’t be many creatures who fit that descriptor. Sounds a bit like a Nirik, and we are near their village so…” Spyro mused to himself before he broke off into a run. He sighed in relief, the kirin were close cousins to the dragons and Nestor spoke of them often. “He’s safe, he’s safe. It was probably Fern Flare or someone who picked him up. Maybe Autumn, she has a soft spot for kids from what little I’ve seen of her. Flame said she watched his nephew once.”
Back at the Kirin Village, as Spike chowed down on some lamb chops he sat with Rain. The leader of the kirins had told two of her villagers to be on the lookout for more gnorcs or Spyro himself. “...Torch above, I’m such an idiot. Went after those monsters even when I was explicitly warned not to, again and again. All because I felt the need to…” Spike trailed off.
“Your parents right?” Rain Shine asked. “I heard what happened. Sent shockwaves through Avalar, the Scale Hunters getting this bold.”
“Torch above, my dad’s going to kill me… All because I let my anger take control and-”
Rain put a hoof over his mouth. “I know better than anyone what it’s like to let your emotions rule you. That anger you feel? It’s always within us, but it is our choice how we let it out. There’s a fine balance between your feelings ruling you, and controlling them. You’ll learn as you get older. Would your parents really want you to dishonor their memory like this, going after every last gnorc you hear about?”
“...No…” Spike whispered.
“I understand the need for revenge, it’s only proper in your situation,” Rain said. “But how you choose to use that emotion and channel it is another matter. You can honor your parent's memories in other ways, correct? Is there not a breed of dragons who defends the realms?”
“The Peace Keepers, yeah…” Spike replied his eyes widening in realization.
“Maybe they’re for you, maybe they’re not. I cannot know,” Rain Shine said. “But I do know this, you’re a young drake. Goodness knows every life should be treasured, especially those of the next generation. We entrust them not to repeat our generation’s mistakes. To carry our hopes and dreams with us, do what we could not in our lifetimes.”
“...That… that seems like a heavy burden…” Spike said.
“I apologize. It is not one you should have to worry about right now,” Rain replied looking ashamed of herself. “Just something to keep in mind for the future okay? Right now, enjoy life. This is the greatest part of it, being young. It’s not something that’ll ever come around again. Be happy, be sad, be a bit of an idiot -if you excuse the term- and most of all? Enjoy life, be loved and love those who love you back.”
“...That’s… That’s just the thing, earlier today… well,” Spike said. “I… I still feel at times as if I only want my original parents, not Spyro and Cynder. Am I being selfish?”
“No, it is only natural,” Rain Shine said. “Treasure their memories, never forget them. Both of them made you who you are today. I… I’m sorry, I seem to be getting poetic now.”
“No, no,” Spike said wiping away his tears through his laughter. “It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine. Thank you, Rain.”
Then he was brought into a tight hug by a familiar purple and gold form whispering thank yous to the gods. Rain Shine quietly took her leave from the area, knowing this was a moment between father and son. “I’m… I’m sorry, Dad…” Spike whispered. “I… I just wanted to be brave, like you.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble,” Spyro said. “I'm very disappointed in you. You deliberately disobeyed me. I understand you wanted to be like me, I do. But I’m only brave when I have to be. I was terrified today, you understand?”
“But I thought nothing scared you…” Spike asked looking up at his father.
“Something did today, the thought that I might lose you,” Spyro replied and at this Spike broke out into sobs and he simply wrapped a wing around his son. “I won’t sugarcoat it, your punishment when we get back is probably going to be a big one.”
“It’s okay dad,” Spike said. “After nearly getting killed, I don’t mind.”
“I love you kid, you know that right?” Spyro asked.
“And I love you dad.”
Rain Shine watched with a small smile before she headed back into her village. “So, that’s your son huh Nestor?” she asked as the green dragon landed next to her. He’d seen the chaos from a nearby castle he had helped in building and had rushed to help. “I think he makes a great father.”
“Yeah, that he does…” Nestor smiled.
“I never did thank you, all those years ago. What you and Autumn, and Boldar did for us. You gave us back our character, our identities after I so foolishly took it away,” Rain said not meeting his eyes. Nestor laid a hand on her shoulder, another tilting her head upwards so that he could meet her eyes.
“You did, at the time, what you thought was best. A leader cannot ask to do anything more but to protect her people. In time, the wounds will heal. The memories will remain, as they do but the wounds will heal.”
“...I hope so. I do hope so. I made a grave mistake, and now I wonder if the silent judgment I face from my people is worth it.” Rain wondered.
“Who’s to say really?” Nestor asked. “But if you ever need me, you know where to find me.”
“That I do.”