Let my Fire Guide you Home 11

Chapter 11- Growing Mystery

Some alone time was quite useful for Cynder. Aside the fact that she had to be heavily surrounded by the crowds of the growing city, this was an ideal time for the dragoness to be by herself and think.

“That’ll be 120 gold pieces, lovely miss,” the large, chubby feline spoke behind the desk in a charismatic tone. Further back you could hear the voices of many the employees, who rushed in their work to finish their day’s deliveries.

Cynder furrowed her eye ridges at this fellow. The feline had asked for a large sum of money; how could she be sure that he had not attempted to play her as a fool?

“You can trust me,” the large jolly feline reassured her as he spotted doubt in her eyes. “You’ll never get better meat from anywhere else.” The black dragoness looked up, as she reached into her pouch for the gold. As she tried to read the males look, she placed the glittering money upon the table. The small pouch opened slightly and had become directed towards the feline. He looked into the pouch, greed within his eyes as he picked is up. The black dragoness became more suspicious, of course.

“Tell your masters none of them will be unsatisfied,” the feline confirmed to her. Cynder formed a smile that gestured thanks to this male, despite her doubts. “The chef’s guild can never fail you,” this Avalarian reassured.

“Thank you,” the black dragoness said as she nodded. With that, the female turned around, and walked off to her next duties. In honesty, she was too rushed to question this feline, or what he charged of her. The guardians had indulged her with much gold, and perhaps this was the reason why. Cynder was not able to understand their decisions. Perhaps her masters should have been more careful with their spending habits. The dragoness was intelligent enough to tell apart a deal from a scam. There was no need to spare her from mind’s work in a town where hunger grew quickly and the poor became poorer.

Hogs, check, Blossoms, check, Cynder made her accounts of the errands. Next, she looked down into the pouch she carried to make sure the receipts of both orders were in place. At last, the young female moved her paw towards the ground; to pick up a single ‘night’s wish’ rose she had left there as she made the order. The dragoness cradled this flower with much delicacy, as she looked to its beautiful blossom; the blossom being of the color of night, and wherever the light hit it, it would reflect a dazzling purple.

I’m sure Spyro will be surprised. Cynder giggled to herself cheerfully. To imagine the purple dragon’s look when he had discovered this flower belonged to him was thrilling. She knew that it was Avalarian tradition for the male to give flowers to the female, but why did this matter? Cynder loved her dragon with all the passion in the world, why should any old dumb tradition come in her way? Now, to get the Earth roots. With that in thought she put the flower in her pouch, carefully so would not be destroyed, and walked back into the flow of the consumer crazed felines. Her step was fragile and elegant, as always: seductive. The female stood out, particularly, not only for the fact that she was a black dragoness, but also for her defined background. Some would look at her, and cause the dragoness to feel slightly hesitant. At times she wondered if they looked to her and knew of her past; that would be frightening. Cynder did her best to ignore looks, though, for she knew- and had been reminded many times- that she was not who she once was. So when the dragoness had gazes put upon her, she simply closed her eye, gently, and walked in her path, gracefully.

The female walked through the crowd as best as she could, but found it obvious that she would need to take a cut across the streets; through the alleyways. What the black dragoness was not aware of was that, as she paced and minded her own, one of the members of the Remnants of Malefor followed her from behind. The green dragoness, Celesta, was the one who followed her tail in this act. Her eyes followed her every step, and made sure nothing was left unseen. This energetic dragoness of fine green scales was about as excited for slaying Cynder as Synapse was, but because of her jittery nature rather then the albino dragon’s morbid wishes. She knew there would be an adrenaline rush as they watched the black dragoness defend herself helplessly.

Celesta’s eyes moved upwards, and to he left side. On the roofs, Guidel followed both of them, focused eyes as well. The green scaled dragoness grinned as she looked back, and discovered the young female was still, as she made a decision about her path. Cynder looked to her right, and stared at an alleyway path. The narrow pass-way was dark; and, as it was natural of these routes, unpromising. The young black dragoness did not mind the fact that she needed to take these routes, though. She had to get her duties done before she could return to her purple dragon, and this was the quickest ways. The crowds walked around her now, interrupted from the constant flow. They gave her unkind looks for disturbing the path, and for holding them back. Cynder, not able to accede to these unfriendly glances any longer took the decision of entering the alleyway, and walked towards it. Celesta’s smile grew; they had the black dragoness just where they wanted her. It was the joy the herder had once he had successfully penned his herd into the corral, or when the predator had cornered his prey.

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Silence had finally been granted to the purple dragon once his step-brother had left; it was just him and Cynder’s journal now, nothing else to interrupt. Spyro turned the page of the diary, the scent of old book released as the next page appeared. A dry flower bud lay on top of the writing under. He moved this fragile object as he read what was below.

“Finding myself under the pressure of war is of little bother to me now. All those worthless attempts from the guardians of the temple are of no threat. In fact, I have managed to capture three of them so far. The last, the master of fire has gone into hiding, and those in my forces that are fortunate enough to find him never come back, I assume; worthless apes.

It is interesting to keep an eye on those which I hold captive. Those guardians are no different then the small battalions they attempted to lead towards us, lust-drunken imbeciles.”

The purple dragon’s eye ridges moved high as he read. How on earth could Cynder have insulted their masters- so refined and formal- with those words? He took a small breath, before he proceeded to read.

“They look to me at times, never letting their eyes off of me; more specifically, my figure. If I would ask, the cowards would probably respond in words such as ‘I curse you, witch!’ or such even more prudish as telling me they were studying how I fought. To be told, no fighting was done anywhere around those chains.

To prove the error of their ways, I would tease them. I might flick my tail here and there, or sway my hips in such a way. These captives would then try to look away, yet never could. They caught each glimpse of what I could bear to them, what I presented them. They held their own torture sessions, with a little of my help; this amused me greatly.”

Spyro looked away from the pages to imagine such a thing. Cynder teased his master’s the way she did to him now? The dragon gulped, as he looked back at the pages; more conflicting thoughts about Cynder raged in his mind more then ever before.

“There have been rumors going around now -amongst the apes- that a purple hatchling had bee spotted near the dragon temple. This concerns me, yet fills my heart with enthusiasm.”

The male dragon’s eyes glittered as he read these words. At last, Cynder had recognized his presence. A strong shiver ran down the males back as he thought back to those days. The black dragoness was his arch-rival in those days; it was hard to imagine that now, imagine the hate she could have held for him. He read on through the passages of dark.

“I’ve asked Gaul what the possibilities of this dragon being the rebirth of Malefor could be. He told me to beware, for this so rumored dragon could not be the return of Malefor; our master would return in full potential, and insanity with that.

Still, I can’t help but to wonder if this dragon could be of use to us. The prophesized dragon’s destiny was never clear, in fact, his prophesy was cloudy. What if this dragon was destined to become the prodigy of Malefor? Well no one knows, and I will only react according to how he does. If he is an ally indeed, I will see to it that I still end the war and gain the honor and trust of our master.”

With that, the entry was done. Spyro looked down the bottom right corner, and on the end of the sheet Cynder’s fine signature was made. He smiled, as he passed his paw over it; the signature, to this day had never changed. The purple dragon sighed softly as an ever more worrisome thought fell on him. To think about it, several things had not changed since those days.

The black dragoness was still a teaser, and this did not start because of Spyro after all; what did this mean? The young male dragon would never doubt Cynder’s love for him, but all of the taunting she inflicted on him, all of the teasing, was it just instinctive? The male dragon shifted his body as he stretched himself. A long calming yawn escaped his muzzle before he looked back to the journal. Perhaps if he read on, he would find the answer to his questions. The dragon turned page, the tear sound of old parchment parting was created as writing showed up. He looked down to it, and noticed it was dated four days after the last entry.

“I come to write this entry so late at night for the restless situation I am in. Earlier in this night I had two dreams, which I must speak of in here. At least here I can vent out my anger’s and fears without getting whipped; despite the fact that not even Gaul would dare put a paw on my now, either way, he’s no good at accompanying.

The first on the two dreams I had this night was the most particular. What I remember was that in the beginning of it I was in the midst of a forest, so grown with trees that no escape could be seen. For some reason I felt weaker, somehow smaller. It was then that this night’s event went from bad to worse. The purple dragon -the one I had seen with my very own eyes two days ago- showed up. He came from the trees behind me, and with all the strangeness that could be thought up, began to play with me. He licked my neck, and brushed his strong body against mine –The fact that he looked more aged then as how I saw him before, in mind, of course. It could tell it was him through the blur though; I remembered his eyes -. I was held defenseless, and could do nothing but release my breaths in small moans of pleasure.”

At the sight of these words, Spyro grew alert. The male could have not imagined she had dreamt of the two being together before she escaped from her chains.

“I remember his muzzle moving down as he licked my forelegs. He savored me as if I was sweet, like the honey of trees; this brought me great disgust. I struggled to move myself, but even if he was gave me no resistance, I could not move. He gazed up to me and looked to my eyes with his large violet orbs, and at last spoke. The dream got even more difficult to understand as his words escaped, and I could hardly read his lips out. I believe he had said three words, those being ‘I love you’.

That was when fear shook me awake. I rose violently as I sweat and gasped for air. My eyes looked back and forth through the darkness on the night, but I could see no one, except Gaul –who at night rested in my room-. It was then when I clearly concluded that what I had experienced was just a dream.

In one way, I thanked the ancestors it had just been that, but it left me with a biting curiosity. The purple dragon I had seen only a few days ago -and in that time had declared me a foe- was now of great mystery. Was he to become my mate if we allied? In some ways, it would be considerable. To bear the child of a purple dragon was that of great interest. The image of she who was gravid with a son of the dominant darkness would rise in greatness, or at least would be seen with respect by all. Then again, I have heard of the chances that Malefor would use me for the purpose of mating. If this dragon would go rogue, and decided to act without our master’s consent, I might go down with him. I have to be careful with him in all terms, his eyes reveal frightening instability.”

Spyro read the last sentence of this paragraph and was left no better then before. The terror of the skies had evaluated him to an extent Spyro never considered. Cynder had not simply been out for him in sought of blood; instead, she actually wanted to know more about him. The black dragoness was probably as curious about him as he was of her. The fact that she spoke of Spyro’s look as ‘frighteningly unstable’ caused cold shivers to run through his back, and frisk out to the tips of his scales. The purple dragon wondered if Cynder still saw those same eyes in him; if she still could see instability, and a naive weakness within. He shook his head in hopes that this was not true, and that Cynder, in reality, did not fear his ‘insecurities’. The young male brought his attention back to the journal in hopes that the rest of this entry might relieve him in some extent.

“After I had tamed my mind from the thought of the previous dream, I managed to get myself to rest once more; a curse this was, more then kind luck. It was then, when I gained sleep again, that I had a second nightmare.

I dreamed of my death, something not uncommon. What had been particular of this dream was how real it felt. I remember as I paced through the shadows of a hall –or alleyway, I can’t be sure of what this was-. It was then that shadows appeared from all my sides, and attacked me. As I defended myself I quickly found out how hopeless I was. In this dream, like the other one, I was smaller and weaker as well. My body moved fast, and I defended myself in a decent manner; every strike that was driven to me was more painful then the last, though. I felt true pain; something I thought could not be felt in dreams. It hurt like real scars of battle, no, even then worse.

In time these shadows had managed to take me down. I was covered in bitter blood, yet the dark monsters did not cease. At last, I remember how my vision became blurred, everything except some sort of pouch I carried. At last, and with several blinks of my eyes, I was gone.”

By the end of the last sentence of this paragraph, Spyro had suddenly felt sick within. Something caused him to be alarmed now, and that something slowly became more alerting inside of the male. The dragon read the last two paragraphs once more as he panted softly. He seemed have fallen into a panic, and this panic screamed Cynder. Something inside of him warned him that his black dragoness was in grave danger. Despite the fact that he was of a far distance from the young female, he listened to this calling with deep concern; he did not understand why he did it, but did so anyways.

It was then, when something inside of him whispered ‘Your dragoness had a pouch with her. Cynder will die,’ that Spyro reached the limits. The male shot to his feet, his breath steamed through pearly white teeth within his muzzle. He then looked to the glassless window and aimed to run towards it.

“Cynder!” the male roared in deep concern as he charged. With a leap of the strong muscles located in his hind legs, he shot himself upwards and through the window. Spyro’s body found no limitations as it picked up air with his wings, and flew at tops speed. His body flew high as he directed himself through the sky. The purple dragon directed himself were his instinct told him.

If Cynder was in trouble, the male was to find her.