darkSpyro

There are no edits to this than what have already been made on the original. I'm lazy :3
First FF too, hope you enjoy!

The morning light crept silently over the horizon of Avalar. The land had changed, it had changed neither for the better nor for worse, but it had changed none the less. Caves once explored now needed to be remarked, paths that had been demolished now needed to be re-routed throughout Avalar. For the most part, Warfang had been almost untouched by and thousands of citizens, by order of the new head guardian Terrador, had been sent out in search for their heroes, Spyro and Cynder.

It had been nearly a week since they had last seen the two dragons. Both of them crossed the Belt of Fire left by the Destroyers path, supposedly fought and killed Malefor, and pulled the world back together. Terrador, much like the rest of the guardians and the dozens of search parties sent out, believed Spyro, Cynder, and Ignitus to be dead.

There was no celebration, no cheering for their saved lives, and no positive moral for them to be happy about. Their leader was dead; his pupil possibly killed along with the once traitorous, but now allied Terror of the Skies. There was no reason for them to celebrate.

Sparx had taken the lead of many search parties. He had not slept in days, refused to eat, even though he was small and it wouldn't take him near as long to finish as the others. Any help from others was denied unless it involved finding his brother. The stress was building.

He had joked with his brother over the years, teasing him, calling him fat to make up for his size, saying witty comments to mess with him and annoy Cynder, but now that the realization of death was bearing down on him like a boulder upon his conscious. Now he wished he could take it all back.

Sparx was searching around the dragon temple aimlessly for a few hours now, one part of him wanted sleep but the other part wanted to gather another team of volunteers to help him, much to his disliking; they had already left or were not willing. Terrador was roaming around and had just found the little dragonfly. Terrador noticed his skulking and decided to walked with him. "Sparx, it's been almost a week now, don't you think you should take a break. Let us take charge for a while." Terrador coaxed.

Sparx rounded another corner of the dragon temple with the earth guardian and advanced through the hallway. "No." Sparx said plainly as Terrador followed in suite.

Volteer, the guardian of electricity, had been trailing behind them silently for a few minutes and decided to intervene with Terrador. "You do need sleep you know," He said suddenly, causing Terrador to twitch slightly from surprise. "Rest and rejuvenation is a necessity at a time like this, surely you must know that it is not healthy to be pressuring yourself like this, I remember one time when I was young I-"

"That's enough Volteer; thank you," Terrador cut Volteer off before he could continue another one of his rants. "But he is right; just go get some rest, if we find Spyro we will let you know first thing."

"Just leave me alone," Sparx shot back bitterly. He vibrated his wings faster and sped down the hallway till he rounded another corner out of sight.

Terrador sighed heavily. "What is the matter Terrador," Volteer asked. "Well, aside from the obvious, that is."

"It has been a week and not a single search party has seen either horn nor tail of Spyro or Cynder," Terrador said grimly. "My enthusiasm wasn't the greatest to start out with and now it's starting to diminish even further."

Volteer extended his wing so he could stop Terrador and smiled as he usually did. "Terrador, you of all people must know the consequences of bitter thought like that," he said with an unusual cheerfulness. "Maybe you need rest as well, hearing talk like that and from one of our bravest and strongest dragons!" Volteer raised his voice in his excitement. "Not to mention our most loyal," The electric guardian lowered his voice again when a few heads turned to see the commotion. "We need you right now Terrador, now more than ever, whether you realize it or not, but we do," Volteer smiled even wider as he finished his pep speech.

Terrador looked at Volteer. Dark bags were forming under his eyes. His eyes themselves were bloodshot and irritated from lack of sleep. He must have been up with one of the night parties, Terrador assumed. He smiled back, but only slightly. "Thank you," he said after a brief moment of silence. "I know that you are only trying to help, I am not denying that I am doubtful of their survival, but under the circumstances, even if they did survive, I do not believe they could have held out this long without food or water." Terrador lowered his head.

"Terrador," Volteer said. "You do not believe in them enough, only faith in their survival can pull us through. So what if we don't find them in another week, a month, a year? What does it matter if they are dead or not, all we can do now is search for them and hope for the very best," Volteer's smile widened. "I will dedicate the rest of my life to finding them if I must, and I hope that you will do the same."

Cool! Write another chapter, okay? I'll wait for it like I wait my friend, Samius' story...

Chpt. 1 Continued

Volteer sighed and walked off, ending the conversation on a rather sour note, much to Terrador's disliking. The sting of guilt swelled up in Terrador's chest making him sick to his stomach. Never before had anyone talked to him like that, not since Ignitus at least. He wanted to double over, sink to the floor and cry, cry like a newly born hatchling. Nobody had ever made him feel like this, so terrible, so worthless, and so insignificant to those around him. The world around him was trembling. Possibly because of his mixed emotions of pain and sorrow that he was bringing on himself, the temple seemed to be shaking. A slight tremor nothing more than that, nobody could feel it, nobody but him.

Terrador walked down the hall deep in thought over the short conversation with Volteer. He knew he was right, he should be more confident, maybe not as enthusiastic, but confident. He looked out onto an open balcony he was passing, clouds were forming over the horizon, and the faint blur of falling rain was making its way over the mountains in the East. The birds on the balcony had sensed the rain and descended down to their nests below. Terrador sighed again and continued on for several minutes, much like Sparx now, searching for something and nothing at the same time. Small tears began to swell in his eyes, too small for anyone to notice, but he could feel them. Heavier than any rock, tougher than any stone, his tears, but he would not let them go, not yet.

Terrador stopped in his aimless tracks whenever he felt the padding of small footsteps behind him. "Master Terrador," a voice called behind him. He quickly wiped his eyes and turned to the voice. A mole dressed in the normal head and chest plate armor was making his way down the hallway. "Master Terrador, it is about to rain Sir, I suggest that you make your way to your room."

"Th-Thank you, please, continue on your patrol if you wish," Terrador answered quickly.

The messenger saluted the guardian. "Thank you, Sir," he said and shuffled past him. Terrador turned around as the mole began to walk off. Just before the mole reached the four-way corridor he stopped and turned back to Terrador. "You know Sir, I do not know if it is appropriate for me to say this but I believe I must. This is a tough time for all of us. I do not know what ties you have with Master Spyro and Mistress Cynder, but please keep your spirits high, for the moral of course." The mole saluted Terrador again and disappeared from sight.

Terrador felt the vibrations again, this time even more fierce than before. The small tremors shook him; the ground around him, the world was shaking. Reluctantly, he took the moles advice and made his way back to his room. Only when he had reached the door did he realize. Small pebbles from the walls were falling to the floor; dust from the ceiling was falling down onto his head. He was not doing it, if he did he would have stopped, but it wasn't him, the world was shaking.

"Everyone, together now! We need to move those rocks!" A cheetah shouted through the thunder and pouring rain. His fur was soaked and his muscles were sore. Only an hour ago he had sent a messenger back to the dragon temple to tell them, to tell everyone, they had found them.

It was a week since the world ended and was reborn, how they found them, only the ancestors knew. They were piled under nearly a thousand pounds of rock and debris from the world, no food, light, or water for a week would surely mean that they were barely alive, if even that. A cheetah had noticed an irregular formation of rocks by a once marked cave, when he went to explore he heard shouts from the other side, Cynder. He wasted no time in getting the rest of his search party and began digging out the two dragons.

"Help," Cynder shouted louder than before.

A mole threw away another rock and shouted back to his superior, "Sir, we can hear her!"

"Well don't stop now! Dig," the cheetah shouted back as he dug his bloodied claws into the rocks again and began to throw them aside.

"They're alive," Terrador shouted. The messenger had just arrived bringing the good news. The messenger had quickly found all three guardians and requested an urgent meeting with them in private.

"Yes Sir, Cynder and supposedly Spyro are alive in a cave east of here, just south of the mountains," the cheetah answered.

"Are you sure it's them," Cyril asked from his designated spot around the pool of visions.

The cheetah nodded, "Please, Sirs, we cannot waste anymore time here, if they haven't died starvation or dehydration than we should move immediately!"

"Very well, Cyril, Volteer, make your way there, I will round up an escort and a team of our best healers," Terrador ordered.

Cyril and Volteer nodded simultaneously and hurried out a moment later. "Young cheetah, please go collect Sparx, he will want to be there when we recover Spyro and Cynder," Terrador said.

The cheetah bowed low. "Yes Sir, good luck," he said and ran off to go find Sparx.

"I hope we're not too late," Terrador whispered to himself grimly.

They had barley put a dent into the fortress of rocks and stone that blocked off Spyro and Cynder. Even with the combination of Volteer and Cyril, almost no progress had been made. Cyril froze another section of the blockade and swung his tail down hard onto it, shattering a very small portion of the wall.

"This is useless!" Cyril shouted. "We need Terrador!" He backed off and began to breathe heavily.

"I agree, our attacks are almost futile against this monstrous stone nemesis, but we mustn't give up, Cyril," Volteer shouted. He breathed in deeply and let loose another wave of electricity the blasted the wall. When the smoke cleared away all that was left was a small burn mark, nothing more than a scratch.

Volteer sat on his haunches and scratched the back of his neck. "Perhaps we do need Terrador," he admitted.

Cyril rolled his eyes. "And weren't you the one saying that we shouldn't give up," he asked blandly.

"Well, I gave it my all and it appears to have no strong affect against stone, but at least one of us is trying." Volteer shot back.

"And what is that supposed to mean," Cyril shouted. "Are you saying that I'm not doing my best?"

"Well no, but now that you mention it, you could be doing better." Volteer and Cyril were now face to face.

"Sirs, please stop," A few moles shouted from below them. Both Cyril and Volteer were too distracted with each other to see Terrador land by the wall.

Terrador looked back at the other guardians and rolled his eyes. "What a time to be fighting with each other. Those stupid fools," he murmured to himself. "All moles and cheetahs please stand back," he shouted.

Terrador opened his jaw wide and let loose a flurry of earth missiles at the wall. Each one dented and bent the wall, doing far more damage in a shorter time than Volteer and Cyril had done combined. After a minute of firing at the wall of stone a small crack was made letting a slim amount of light into the cave. The rain poured in and began to flood the floor. "Cynder, stand back," Terrador shouted. When he could sense that she was far enough away he twisted his body and slammed his tail as hard as he could into the wall, shattering it completely.

The cheetahs trained with medical aid ran in immediately and dug around the broken rocks to pull Cynder out. Her body was bleeding from the base of her horn to her tail. From small cuts to gashes a foot long she could barely stand. Both of her wings had been broken from the base, she wouldn't be flying for a long time. Her front right paw was twisted the opposite direction and the small speck of white indicated that the bone had pierced through the scales. Her scales were lighter in color, turning slightly gray from lack of sunlight. Her flesh was almost to the bone; starvation was pulling a key factor in this. Battle worn and overcome with relief she collapsed in the arms of the cheetahs that were carrying her out.

Nice chapter, but.... Where's Spyro?

Spyro on the other hand had yet to be recovered from the cave. The cheetahs placed Cynder in the care of the other guardians and began to crawl around on the ground. It was dark in cave and without a fire to guide them, it was almost impossible to see. However, something seemed off. Spyro was not a normal dragon, he could take punishment, and a lot of it, but for whatever reason, he made no attempt to show himself, and no attempt to call out to the others.

"Sir I think I found him," One of the cheetah healers called out after a few minutes of searching, "but something's wrong, Sir!"

Terrador quickly entered the cave and felt the ground beneath him. He could feel the pulse of every cheetah in the room, but he could not feel that of Spyro's. "Move back," he shouted.

"S-Sir," The cheetah answered.

"I said move away, now," Terrador shouted with even more ferocity.

The cheetah removed himself from Spyro's side and Terrador traced his paw around his body. A large boulder had pinned him to the ground, shattering the bones and ligaments of his tail and both hind legs. He felt his body for more wounds. There was no sign of other significant damage other than those of claw marks, large claw marks. Terrador smashed the boulder with his tail and grabbed Spyro. His body was limp in his arms.

Terrador brought him outside into the light as quickly as he could. What he saw was horrifying. His body was crushed, just like he suspected from the tail down to his legs. His wings were on hinges, almost dismembered, many holes had almost replaced the membrane. The marks that he felt were worse than he first thought. What few he thought he had acquired were now dozens. Almost all had turned a sickly green color, infected from the dirt. He placed Spyro on the ground and let the healers get to him.

They didn't have to work on him, from the wounds on his exterior they could already tell, he was dead. For how long, they didn't know, but from the looks of his face, not long. He was smiling; he must have given in at last from exhaustion and pain. The sound of hearing the rescuers outside had put him to sleep, his last sleep.

"Where is he," Sparx shouted. He had just arrived with the cheetah though the rain was pouring even harder now, he refused to give in to the weight that pelted him like heavy stones. "Where is... Cynder?"

Sparx flew to the downed dragoness. She cracked an eye when she saw the little dragonfly. "Hey you," she whispered, she tried to laugh but in turn she coughed up small specks of blood, "How's it going?"

Cynder tried to lift a wing to give Sparx some cover from the rain but cringed as the bone tried to move. "Cynder, where is Spyro," Sparx insisted.

"He should be right behind me, why," She replied.

Sparx looked behind her. A small group of the huddled up healers blocked his body from sight. He quickly flew over to the group. "Where is Spyro," he asked. He had caught a glimpse of his brothers purple scales. They however looked at each other and back at Sparx. They moved themselves together tightly so they could block his body from sight.

Terrador cleared his throat. "Let him see, Cynder as well," he said sadly.

"What's wrong Terrador," Cynder asked. The cheetahs that had removed her from the cave picked her up and turned her towards the group. "Terrador, what happened," She repeated.

The cheetahs covering Spyro's body were reluctant but they obeyed his orders and moved away allowing Sparx and Cynder to see him. Both Cynder and Sparx's eyes widened in horror, Sparx slowly made his way to his brother's corpse. "Sp-Spyro," he whispered. "Hey buddy, wake up man, this isn't funny."

"Sparx, Cynder, I'm sorry, he's gone," Terrador said sadly.

"Spyro," Cynder whispered to herself. "Spyro?" She tried to crawl closer to him; to see him clearly but the damage done to her body prevented her from moving. "SPYRO," She screamed through the rain. She thrashed back and forth unable to get her anger and frustration out. The darkness within her body started to become present as she continued to scream his name. It took several cheetahs to hold her down, and even then it wasn't enough. Her body began to grow larger, sleeker, returning to its corrupted form. After several minutes of screaming she had finally calmed down. Her body had fully grown again, but her mind was still focused on Spyro. Ignoring the pain of her broken paw, she limped silently over to the cheetahs that surrounded his body and sat in the mud before them.

"Everyone back off," Terrador whispered fiercely. The cheetahs did not hesitate; each one moved several feet away as the dragoness stared blankly at Spyro.

"Who was shouting? What's happening," Cyril asked. The two guardians had been completely blind to the situation until then. Only when he looked upon Spyro's body did he realize. "Oh no," he said. He and Volteer were completely taken aback from the sight of their dead hero and the return of the corrupted Cynder.

Cynder lifted her head. "What happened," She repeated, "WHAT HAPPENED!? You let him die, that's what happened! You could have saved him if you weren't off bickering like hatchlings. What was it that you were fighting over? Something stupid, I suppose? And now because of you two Spyro is dead! If it weren't for the need of you two as guardians, I would probably kill you both," Cynder screamed. Even through the rain her tears were seen.

"Cynder, we- we're sorry," Volteer said quietly.

Cynder however kept her voice raised. "Don't apologize to me alone, answer to his brother," she pointed to Sparx.

Sparx was hovering over Spyro's body. He didn't look at the guardians or Cynder. He didn't say anything; all he did was silently mourn over the loss of his only brother. He was all that he had had left. He didn't know whether or not his parents were dead from the belt of fire or from the planet shattering into pieces. The anger was put off for the time being, all he wanted to do now was be with his brother.

"Sparx… I… we… we're so sorry," Volteer and Cyril both lowered their heads to bow to the dragonfly.

Sparx raised one of his hands to silence them. "Don't," he said plainly, "not now."

"Sparx please forgive-," Cyril began.

"I said don't say anything," Sparx screamed. His little body was now red all over. "I want you to take him back to the temple and give him a burial, now! I want you to dig his grave with your own claws, maybe after that I will accept your apology but not until you know how I feel!"

Cyril looked at Terrador. He was angry, angrier than he had ever seen him before in his life. He looked over to Volteer who was rounding up a few moles and cheetahs to help carry him in a makeshift cloth. It was going to be a long walk back to the temple.

The rain had not let up, in fact, it had gotten even worse. The sound of thunder boomed throughout the land, lightning striking in several places, an appropriate condition for such an unnecessary loss. It took five moles to carry the weight of the fallen dragon in the cloth gurney. Cynder limped behind the group, refusing the help Terrador offered her. She could no longer stand to be in the presence of the guardians, she hated them all.

Is Spyro really dead???

Nice and exiting...
But, could you improve something, you write too much that might make the reader tired and not focus...
I have been trying my best to read this story all night...

The reason it's so long is because I want it to become a book. This isn't really for anyone else but myself. I write to stay stable in life. It helps with my depression.

The rain seemed to pelt them like stones falling from the sky. Harder and harder it poured down onto the group returning from the wreckage. Cyril hovered over Spyro's body keeping him moderately dry while Volteer swarmed around like a bee absorbing the charges of lightning that struck down. Miles away however, one strand of lightning danced across the sky. Back and forth it zapped across the sky on a path directly for the group. Faster and faster the wave of electricity sped up. Volteer saw the lightning coming and launched high into the air to meet it. However the strand of lightning dodged Volteer completely. The electricity was so strong it broke off and struck Volteer, overcharging his body causing him to explode. He fell from the sky in a heap of smoke and fire. Too distracted by Volteer, the group of moles carrying Spyro did not have time to move away from the path of destruction aimed right towards them.

Cyril's wing was pierced by the massive bolt of electrical energy. He screamed in pain as the lightning exploded around him. The explosion sent dirt and mud flying through the air. The electricity had hit Spyro's body directly, sending surges throughout his body. Back and forth the voltage went, from his tail to the tip of his horn. The voltage was so fierce it had managed kick start his heart. He did not wake but he began to breathe slowly, then faster and faster as his body became accustomed to the repeated process again. His heart was faint, but it was beating again. The moles however were not so fortunate. Instead of life, they were greeted with death. Their fur was burnt away and their bodies began convulsing from the electricity.

Suddenly, the rain cleared. Volteer's body was recovered from a small crater left from his quick descent. He was unscathed for the most part, but a little "Shocked," as he put it. The cheetahs checked over the dead moles. Five more casualties added. The dust cleared from the main explosion revealing Cynder asleep next to Spyro and his brother together. Amidst the chaos, nobody had seen Cynder run in to recover the body, only to realize he was alive again, or heard Sparx's screams of joy as he saw his brother breathing. The two had then succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.

"Is everyone alright?" Terrador shouted.

"Sir, come take a look at this," one of the cheetahs answered. Cynder had returned to her normal form again, nose to nose with Spyro. Sparx had taken his usual position on Spyro's horn. Next to the trio was another figure, caked in mud. A yellow dragon, appearing to be no older than Spyro was unconscious next to them.

"What is that?" Cyril asked. He cringed slightly as a gust of wind blew onto his damaged wing. Sensitive to the wind, he kept it held it to his side. Blood was seeping from the freshly torn membrane and was covering his blue scales in a scarlet red coating.

"It's a dragon Sir, and master Spyro is breathing again," one of the cheetahs answered.

"Wait, what," Terrador asked, now by the cheetahs side, "But how is that possible, I thought all the dragon eggs were smashed on the Great Awakening and didn't you say that he was dead not even ten minutes ago?"

"Well apparently this one wasn't," Volteer said. "It seems this one must have escaped somehow, and that would mean that there might be others as well." Volteer scratched his chin in thought. "And not to mention the strange phenomenon to see Spyro alive again. May I take a look at him," Volteer asked.

"Well, shouldn't we be worrying about that yellow dragon," Cyril asked. "Right now he just killed five moles and damaged my wing; we should have him arrested on the spot." He insisted revealing his wing to the others.

"Not now Cyril, and Volteer, you may look at him later," Terrador said. "We just tripled our load, Spyro is in a terrible condition as it is and he needs medical attention. I want to be ready to go in less than thirty seconds," he ordered.

Cyril was irritated with who he was carrying. Cynder was asleep under Terrador's arm and a group of cheetahs were on Volteer's back. In Volteer's arms were Spyro and Sparx resting on his horn. Cyril was forced to carry the yellow dragon on his back while the others flew.

Volteer was carrying the heaviest load but he managed to arrive at the front entrance to the dragon temple before the other guardians. "Go prepare bedding for both Spyro and the yellow dragon, I am going to check our stock and see if we have any more crystals left."

Volteer bent over to let the group of cheetahs off his back. They quickly ran inside and as soon as they had entered they returned with another large cloth to carry Spyro in. Volteer placed Spyro onto the cloth gently and nodded them off. The cheetahs moved as fast as they could back inside the temple with the injured purple dragon.

A few minutes later Terrador had landed by the temple entrance. Cyril was lagging behind by a few miles and it had begun to drizzle. Needless to say, he wasn't happy.

"Is there anyone in the dungeons as of now," Terrador whispered so he wouldn't wake Cynder.

"Not that I know of, why," Volteer responded.

Terrador sighed heavily. "I suppose that would be for the best to keep him in there until we know who that yellow dragon is," he stated.

"Are you sure you're not doing this so Cyril won't complain," Volteer said as he rolled his eyes.

Terrador chuckled silently. "Partially, but first things first, I want you to take a look at that dragon as soon as he gets here. He might be hurt and I don't want any more casualties on our end."

Terrador and Volteer looked back and saw Cyril climbing the last steps to the temple. The yellow dragon was lopsided on his back. "Where do you want him," Cyril asked bitterly.

"The infirmary for now, and try to keep him out of sight, we don't want for him to attract to much attention until we know who he is."

"Right, protect the one who killed five of our guards," Cyril said and rolled his eyes.

"Just go, Cyril," Terrador growled.

Cyril rolled his eyes again and walked off with the yellow dragon. He made his way into the temple without another word and headed to the infirmary as he was told. Terrador however remained outside with Volteer, staring back at the mountains from where they had just come from.

"Is something the matter Terrador," Volteer asked.

"I just can't believe it's all over," Terrador said with a relieved sigh. "No more fighting, no more wars, I just can't believe it."

"I cannot fathom this either," Volteer said in agreement. "So what do we do now?"

"We do what we were supposed to do a long time ago," Terrador said. "We open the Dragon Temple to the public as a school and a home for those who are in need," he looked down at Cynder that back to Volteer. "Although, I don't know how much they will enjoy it."

"So, how do we go about this," Volteer asked so fast it was almost unable to tell what he said. Electricity was buzzing around his feet as he shuffled them in excitement. "How are we to bring this news to the dragons that are still in hiding?"

Terrador scratched his chin. "Well, we could do what we have been doing, search parties, letters throughout Avalar, going from settlement to settlement until we finally get responses," Terrador said, "but, I do think we have had enough excitement for a while." Terrador looked away as he yawned. "We should rest for the time being. Tomorrow… tomorrow we will worry about what is to come." Terrador and Volteer turned to the temple and began to walk inside.

Volteer nodded. "I cannot disagree with you there, Terrador," he said.

Volteer walked passed Terrador and into the temple. Terrador made one final glance back towards the mountains. Finally, the world was still.

Amazing! Spyro is live again! You must continue this story...

Hundreds of miles away in a good sized crater surrounded by burn marks and ash; a black dragon lay unconscious and bleeding severely.

Apes large and small were surrounding the body, hooting and howling in excitement from a new, easy kill. They banged their weapons on the ground as one of their leaders approached the body. The ape gripped the horn of the black dragon and shook it until it woke up.

The dragon's eyes snapped open. It shot its tail forward from under his body like a stinger. The tail blade impaled the ape in the center of it's stomach. The ape had to let go of the dragon and from pain, blood began to stream freely from the open wound and it's mouth. As the dragon was in free-fall it spun around, twisting his tail causing the blade to slice through the ape's insides. Blood poured from the hole and the ape's entrails spilled out onto the floor, shortly followed by the ape himself.

The dragon walked casually out of the crater towards the remainder of the apes. As the dragon walked on the grass, it began to decay and whither. The soil turned gray and the grass broke off like brittle glass under the dragon's weight. The black dragon looked up towards the other apes, his eyes flashed yellow then back to their normal emerald green.

"Why are you afraid," the dragon asked innocently. A twisted, sadistic smile grew until it seemed to split his face. "Is it because you had failed me countless times? No, that can't be it. Oh, I know! It's because you betrayed me when Gaul had failed to capture Cynder and kill Spyro, you thought it was best to go into hiding and abandon the cause, maybe that's the reason."

The apes looked at each other, to afraid to even mention his name. "But, it is as I said before," The black dragon pounced an ape that began to run away. He bit into the ape's throat and pulled back, ripping the muscle and flesh out. The ape gripped his throat as he began suffocate from lack of air, drowning in its own blood. The ape vomited up specs of blood onto the black dragon as it crushed its chest in with its paw. The dragon paused momentarily, eying every ape in the area and continued. "I am eternal."

End of chapter one. I hope you enjoyed it. Chapter two is about three times as long >.> It's gonna' be a pain in the butt to submit all of it.

This guy seems cool...
I wonder what's his life like...

Quote: Youla

This guy seems cool...
I wonder what's his life like...

Who might you be refering to? The yellow/gold dragon or the black one?

Chapter Two

It was silent in the temple at last. The birds had finished their songs and were replaced by the crickets and their nighttime music.

A cheetah wearing a hooded black cloak sat in a chair, rubbing his temples gently. His name was Prowler. So much had happened so fast, the stress had just begun to take its toll on him. He had signed up to the dragon temple to help others, as was his passion, and not even a week had gone by before he had become the head of the infirmary. He knew the repercussions of his work, but he never expected much to happen now that the war was over, not this much at least. Cynder was what he had expected to see. A few broken bones, a few cuts and bruises, maybe some illnesses and infections, but nothing more. Not like Spyro.

Only a few hours earlier; Prowler had been relaxing in his office, as was his custom. Leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed over his desk, and a straw of wheat resting under his tongue. He shielded his eyes from the sun that made its way through the window above him with a straw hat. The storms from earlier had cleared from the area, and the world was filled with a new, fresh scent. It seemed like it was going to be a nice day. A bird or two would occasionally make their way into the room, and would perch atop his hat. They pecked away at it, trying to remove a few pieces for a possible nest, but Prowler had already fallen asleep at that point. His snoring did nothing to startle the birds away, but instead they tweeted back and forth merrily. They finished their chatter and took back to the skies with the stolen pieces when someone had rapped on the door.

Prowler lifted a corner of the hat and peered at the door from the bottom of his eyes. "Now what?" He muttered to himself.

He removed the hat and wheat straw, and placed them on his desk. He stood up and took a moment to stretch his limbs. After a long sigh, he walked to the door slowly; reluctant on opening it. But he knew that if he shirked off his duty for too long, he might not get to relax like this for a long while.

Prowler rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened the door a crack. "Yes, what do you want?" He asked irritably. After a long yawned and rubbed his eyes again, and a yellow blur that was nearly two times his size became visible. "Oh Master Volteer, I didn't know it was you." Prowler then opened the door wider and stood at attention immediately.

Volteer couldn't help but to chuckle lightly. "Good afternoon to you as well Prowler."

"Would you like to come in? Is there anything you need?" Prowler opened the door even wider and offered an outstretched hand inside his office.

"Oh no, I am quite alright for now," Volteer shook his paw, denying his invitation. "I would love to stay and chat, but I am afraid that common pleasantries will have to wait for another time. We need you to come to the infirmary right away."

"Has something happened? I swear if it's Rigg..." Prowler pinched his forehead, just between his eyebrows and sighed. "I told him that if he comes in again and it isn't life threatening than I'm going to make sure that he gets a permanent spot in my infirmary." There had been many sick and injured due to the constant searches and excessive deployment of guards around the temple as of lately. With this came those who faked their problems so they could get off duty. There were not many, but it was still a problem.

Volteer chuckled again. "No, no it's not Rigg this time, we found them and we are in need of assistance."

"Them... wait, do you mean you actually found them?"

Volteer nodded. "Time is of the essence, please come with me."

The infirmary wasn't as close to Prowler's office as he would have liked. It wasn't far, but it wasn't close either. It took a good five minutes before the infirmary was even in eyesight, and what he saw was not good. A thin trail of blood was smeared across the floor from the entrance all the way to the infirmary. Prowler broke into a sprint on all fours and ran past Volteer. He skid to a halt and gripped the stone frame of the doorway for support when he reached the entrance.

This was the reason he had been given his position. Volteer, being a long time friend with Prowler, had recommended him personally. Prowler was lazy, he would admit that he would much rather sleep than do his job, but when his job needed him, he was on top of everything.

He ordered the other cheetahs that were part of his staff to move everyone out of the room so he could have some space. Moles and Cheetahs with their miscellaneous problems and short comings exited the room with the escort of his staff.

Once the room was cleared out, he began to work on Cynder. He dealt with her smaller wounds first; cleaning them then patching them up with small pieces of cloth. Next he fixed with her broken paw. It had been twisted backwards and irritated from the mud that covered the skin. He could tell she had been walking on it and would scold her later. She cringed as he applied some antiseptics to the skin around the bone so it wouldn't get infected. Once he was done with that, he reset the bone and received three claw marks on his arm. The fresh wound stung but he could deal with the pain for now. Setting her wings was another task that required a few more wounds. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling for either of them, but it had to be done.

When he had finished cleaning himself off and had patched up his own wounds, he turned to a few of the females that had returned. "Make sure that she doesn't move to much. I don't want her to re-break her wing." They all nodded and went to comfort Cynder while she slept. "Watch for her claws." Her whispered.

Next was the yellow dragon. Prowler swiped a candle from one of the stands and used it to test the dragon's eyes for a reaction. He opened one of its eyes and nearly dropped the candle. The eye was completely black, and there was no light reflecting off of it, a black hole. The pupil was a deep, ruby red color; slitted from the top to the bottom, giving it an almost feral look. He moved the candle closer. The pupil dilated slightly, and expanded when the light was moved back. At least that's normal. Prowler thought to himself. They would need to keep an eye on this dragon, even if it was the first dragon to be found in several years, it doesn't mean it isn't a threat.

Continued>

Nice chapter, I wonder who is the black dragon at the last part of your first chapter, anyway, write it more!

Prowler moved away from the yellow dragon, shivered slightly then walked out of the room to the guardians. They were amongst themselves discussing the issue in private. "Once he is thoroughly examined he should be placed in the dungeons." Cyril huffed a cloud of ice. He growled and shoved away the cheetah that had been trying to patch up his wing.

"I know this Cyril, you don't have to keep repeating yourself," Terrador rolled his eyes. "and don't you think that we should be more concerned about Spyro? He has only just gotten here, and his condition is critical. Worrying about that dragon is the least of our concerns right now."

"I agree with Terrador. The chances of us finding Spyro, and the anomaly of his survival is so incredible that we should focus on him first before anything else."

Cyril glared heavily at Volteer. "Need I remind you that he killed several of our guards not even an hour ago, and you are defending him. Disgraceful."

Prowler waited at the door for a moment then returned back inside and decided to let them continue their not-so-friendly chat in private. It wasn't like he couldn't already hear them from the inside, but giving them the privacy that they need seemed like it would be for the best. The yellow dragon could wait, right now he had to deal with Spyro.

"Spyro..." Prowler sighed. He rubbed his face with both of his hands. That was... nearly an hour ago? Possibly less. There was only one thing Prowler could not deal with in his line of work, and now that he was the one that everyone was counting on, it was harder to take than ever. The one thing that he could not bare to see, even when he was forced too, it was a lost cause. That lost cause was Spyro.

For several hours he slaved over Spyro's body, trying to do the best he could to keep him alive long enough for the crystals that he was promised he would receive the next day to arrive. But in the end, he knew it was poinless. From his external wounds alone he could already tell that he was gone. If not by that, the possibility of internal bleeding and organ failures were still a factor that could, and with most certainty would kill him. He had a few hours, maybe a day at the most, but even that was a long shot. What good would the crystals do if he is already dead?

On the hour that Prowler had determined what would happen to Spyro, he ordered him to be brought to his room. All he could do was keep Spyro comfortable in the last few hours of his life, and even then, it was without the ones that he wanted to be with. Sparx, his own brother who was none the wiser of his condition, was moved to his own room as well, far away from Spyro's. Cynder was kept in the infirmary, put under by a weak sedative so she wouldn't be awake to see him in his condition while she was still vulnerable the darkness, as ordered by the guardians. All that was left to do now was check on the yellow dragon.

Now it was late in the night, the sun had long since made its descent. The candle that was used to check the dragons sight was the only thing producing light in the infirmary. It was quiet. A few crickets sat on the windowsill, playing a melancholic tune. The yellow dragon twitched when the sound reached its ears.

The dragon yawned, "It's still dark out?" The dragon yawned again. He stretched his arms and legs out, cracking the joints. "Hey, Conner, you awake?" He asked aloud. No answer. "Conner?"

He sighed as he tried to lift himself off of the ground and stood on his hind legs. A moment later he found himself with his nose firmly planted on the wall. He groaned in pain and wiped his nose, "What the..." He rubbed his eyes with his claws and cursed as a trickle of blood slid down his face. It was too dark to see, but he knew he wasn't where he should be. He saw the faint light of the candle in the corner of the room and stumbled over to it. He opened his other eye and stared at it, letting the light clear away the fog of sleep for him.

When his eye was partially clear he looked around him. He was surrounded by stone floors, walls, and a stone ceiling. Shelves that held an assortment of medical supplies and tools lined the walls. Then he saw a mirror. He reached up to the shelf, trying to grip the candle with his paw. His paw. His eyes widened and his breathing hastened. Instead of grabbing the candle he pushed the it along the shelf, closer to the mirror. What he saw made his face lose all color.

His scales were a darkened shade of yellow, almost a gold color, but with no luster. Two rows of curved and parallel midnight-black spikes ran down his head and connected together on the end of his skull where it met with his neck. The now single row of black spikes continued down his spine all the way to the beginning of his tail. Four lightning ivory horns crowned his head, two beside the beginning of the spikes and two behind his cheek bones. Both of his wing membranes were black, the bones holding them together were a dark shade of gray. He turned around to see his tail. The spikes ended where the blade began. Two small steel-like daggers expanded at opposite sides of the tail. Where they connected together at the beginning was a hooked glaive that followed the direction of the spikes on his back and clipped off into the hook. The teeth on the underside of the glaive were curved out and dipped back in, good for keeping prey from escaping. There was a faint green substance on the end of each tooth. It was nearly silent, but when he listened closely, it sounded like some sort of acid or poison that was burning away the steel-like material that made up the glaive and replaced it in a continuous cycle. He willed the intensity of the green substance then forced it to diminish again. His eyes were as dark as a starless night, his pupil being the ruby of the sky.
Prowler moved away from the yellow dragon, shivered slightly then walked out of the room to the guardians. They were amongst themselves discussing the issue in private. "Once he is thoroughly examined he should be placed in the dungeons." Cyril huffed a cloud of ice. He growled and shoved away the cheetah that had been trying to patch up his wing.

"I know this Cyril, you don't have to keep repeating yourself," Terrador rolled his eyes. "and don't you think that we should be more concerned about Spyro? He has only just gotten here, and his condition is critical. Worrying about that dragon is the least of our concerns right now."

"I agree with Terrador. The chances of us finding Spyro, and the anomaly of his survival is so incredible that we should focus on him first before anything else."

Cyril glared heavily at Volteer. "Need I remind you that he killed several of our guards not even an hour ago, and you are defending him. Disgraceful."

Prowler waited at the door for a moment then returned back inside and decided to let them continue their not-so-friendly chat in private. It wasn't like he couldn't already hear them from the inside, but giving them the privacy that they need seemed like it would be for the best. The yellow dragon could wait, right now he had to deal with Spyro.

"Spyro..." Prowler sighed. He rubbed his face with both of his hands. That was... nearly an hour ago? Possibly less. There was only one thing Prowler could not deal with in his line of work, and now that he was the one that everyone was counting on, it was harder to take than ever. The one thing that he could not bare to see, even when he was forced too, it was a lost cause. That lost cause was Spyro.

Continued~

Hey... Vexus! You doubled your story! You need to fix it!

YEah, it doubled...
And about the guy...it's not from the story, it was you the writer. All you use is adult's words...

Why was there a doubled story!

@Youla I wish to become a writer in the future. I try to make the things I write as professional as possible.

For several hours he slaved over Spyro's body, trying to do the best he could to keep him alive long enough for the crystals that he was promised he would receive the next day to arrive. But in the end, he knew it was poinless. From his external wounds alone he could already tell that he was gone. If not by that, the possibility of internal bleeding and organ failures were still a factor that could, and with most certainty would kill him. He had a few hours, maybe a day at the most, but even that was a long shot. What good would the crystals do if he is already dead?

On the hour that Prowler had determined what would happen to Spyro, he ordered him to be brought to his room. All he could do was keep Spyro comfortable in the last few hours of his life, and even then, it was without the ones that he wanted to be with. Sparx, his own brother who was none the wiser of his condition, was moved to his own room as well, far away from Spyro's. Cynder was kept in the infirmary, put under by a weak sedative so she wouldn't be awake to see him in his condition while she was still vulnerable the darkness, as ordered by the guardians. All that was left to do now was check on the yellow dragon.

Now it was late in the night, the sun had long since made its descent. The candle that was used to check the dragons sight was the only thing producing light in the infirmary. It was quiet. A few crickets sat on the windowsill, playing a melancholic tune. The yellow dragon twitched when the sound reached its ears.

The dragon yawned, "It's still dark out?" The dragon yawned again. He stretched his arms and legs out, cracking the joints. "Hey, Conner, you awake?" He asked aloud. No answer. "Conner?"

He sighed as he tried to lift himself off of the ground and stood on his hind legs. A moment later he found himself with his nose firmly planted on the wall. He groaned in pain and wiped his nose, "What the..." He rubbed his eyes with his claws and cursed as a trickle of blood slid down his face. It was too dark to see, but he knew he wasn't where he should be. He saw the faint light of the candle in the corner of the room and stumbled over to it. He opened his other eye and stared at it, letting the light clear away the fog of sleep for him.

When his eye was partially clear he looked around him. He was surrounded by stone floors, walls, and a stone ceiling. Shelves that held an assortment of medical supplies and tools lined the walls. Then he saw a mirror. He reached up to the shelf, trying to grip the candle with his paw. His paw. His eyes widened and his breathing hastened. Instead of grabbing the candle he pushed the it along the shelf, closer to the mirror. What he saw made his face lose all color.

His scales were a darkened shade of yellow, almost a gold color, but with no luster. Two rows of curved and parallel midnight-black spikes ran down his head and connected together on the end of his skull where it met with his neck. The now single row of black spikes continued down his spine all the way to the beginning of his tail. Four lightning ivory horns crowned his head, two beside the beginning of the spikes and two behind his cheek bones. Both of his wing membranes were black, the bones holding them together were a dark shade of gray. He turned around to see his tail. The spikes ended where the blade began. Two small steel-like daggers expanded at opposite sides of the tail. Where they connected together at the beginning was a hooked glaive that followed the direction of the spikes on his back and clipped off into the hook. The teeth on the underside of the glaive were curved out and dipped back in, good for keeping prey from escaping. There was a faint green substance on the end of each tooth. It was nearly silent, but when he listened closely, it sounded like some sort of acid or poison that was burning away the steel-like material that made up the glaive and replaced it in a continuous cycle. He willed the intensity of the green substance then forced it to diminish again. His eyes were as dark as a starless night, his pupil being the ruby of the sky.

"Glad to see at least one of you are awake and kicking." A sudden voice from behind him said.

The dragon jumped, and ran behind the mirror. He peeked around the mirror and saw a cheetah dressed in a black cloak standing on it's hind legs, its arms crossed behind its back. "Did you just talk?" He asked, unsure if it was the cheetah that spoke.

"Yes, is that surprising?" The cheetah answered.

"B-But your a cheetah, you can't talk."
Continued~

Why is he surprise?
Where was him before, that not knowing a cheetah can talk?

Um... It's good, but how about your previous chapter, Vexus?

All will be explained in the next few chapters. -That is if I get them done sometime soon-

"Is that not common where you are from?" He asked, confused. "You're a dragon and you talked, why is it strange that I am?"

The dragon looked at his paws, flipping them over and back again to make sure he was seeing himself correctly. "Good point."

"Please forgive me if I startled you," The cheetah apologized and bowed slightly. "My name is Prowler, I came to check on you, I thought you might still be sleeping." Prowler grabbed a small rag and dipped it into a bucket of water on one of the counters. He knelt down and offered it to the dragon. "For your eye."

The dragon peered at the rag then back to Prowler a few times, uncertain if he should take it or not. His eye was starting to become a nuisance, twitching from the air that stung it. The dragon snatched it from his hands with a quiet thanks and began to wipe his eye.

Prowler smirked as the dragon cleaned himself. "You know, one can say that you look intimidating, but by your actions, I guess the saying about looks is true."

The dragon ignored the insult and stepped out from behind the mirror. His eye was still closed from the cut, but still he looked around himself, taking in the details with his other eye. "Where am I?"

Prowler looked around the room as well. "You are in this dragon temple's infirmary."

"If I'm in the dragon temple infirmary... does that mean Spyro is here somewhere?"

"So you know him do you, how is that?"

"I don't know him know him I suppose... I just know who he is."

Prowler jumped up onto the counter beside him, letting one leg hang off the edge and using the other as a rest for his arms. "Well sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not allowed to let anyone see him right now, even if you know him."

"Not even Cynder?"

"No not even-" Prowler unfolded his arms and peered at the dragon. "How do you know about Cynder?"

"How do I know what; that she murdered thousands of innocents as the general of Malefor's army?" The dragon inched closer, eying Prowler closely. "Or that she turned a new leaf and helped Spyro take down Malefor?" The dragon looked from the corner of his eye, seeing the outline of another dragon hidden in the darkness... Cynder. He paused for a moment staring at the dragoness that was still asleep then looked back at Prowler. "Which one of those would you accept as my answer?"

"I... How did you..." Prowler fumbled for his words.

"So are you going to tell me where he is or do I have to find him myself?" The dragon took a few steps forward, trying to get past him

Prowler was already off the counter and blocking him in his tracks, the tip of a small blade planted just between his eyes. The dragon saw the steel of the guard and froze in place. "Take another step and I'll have to add yet another patient to my list, and I don't think that either of us would want that."

The yellow dragon's head twitched the slightest bit then he smiled. "Do you honestly think I'm afraid of you?" He leaned in closer, pressing his head against the blade. Blood began to run down his face. "You must have me mistaken with someone who actually cares what happens to them."

Prowler's hand shook. Not wanting to injure the dragon, he pulled back. He then cleaned the blood from the blades tip with an edge of his cloak. "What do you want with him?" The dragon took a step back and sat on his haunches and began to wipe the blood from his face with the rag. "You aren't really making a good first impression with pressing me to tell you where he is when the war has just ended."

The dragon threw the rag away with his gaze fixed on Prowler."If you want a serious answer, just tell me whether he is alive or not."

"Fair enough, he's alive, now what do you want with him?"

The dragon stood up and shook his head. "Being alive and being barely alive are two different things," he aswered. "but you did tell me so I might as well come clean." He took a few steps around Prowler and paused when he was in front of Cynder. "He's hurt, I can tell, why else would you not tell me where he is, unless of course you thought that I was a threat to him?"

"If you have a point make it."

"Do you really think that you're in the position to be telling me what to do?" The dragon made another move. He jumped right next to Cynder, raised his tail blade, and let it hang just over her head. "I don't seem to remember what you said... something about me not being intimidating because of my actions; although, I think playing with someones life is pretty intimidating if you ask me."

Wow! Nice!

Chpt. 2 Continued still!

Prowler took a step forward, raising his hand in an attempt to calm him. "Wait, please don't."

The dragon laughed as he lowered the blade closer, letting it swish back in forth, nearly clipping Cynder's head. "I can help him, and you can help her," The dragon smiled wickedly. "Give me what I want and she lives, but if you don't help me," The dragon looked towards Cynder then back to Prowler. "I can guarantee that they are going to be spending eternity together a lot sooner."

"How am I supposed to trust you, how do I know that you aren't working for Malefor?" Prowler stepped back to give the dragon some space.

"You don't, but think of it this way; If I was working for Malefor, what would have stopped me from killing Cynder the moment I saw her? I think with what she has done, Malefor wouldn't want her alive and would stop at nothing to make sure that both of them were dead."

"I-I see, just don't hurt her please, I'll take you to him." Prowler knew that Spyro didn't have long, even if this dragon was to try anything, it would be pointless.

"Good." The dragon stepped away from Cynder, letting his tail go limp again. It fell to the floor nearly an inch away from her face. He looked next to her and found an open cabinet filled with herbs of every color and size. The herbs weren't arranged in any specific way and lay jumbled together in several large piles. He walked over to it and looked inside, then back to Prowler. "Now that I know you are going to help me, you can start by getting a large bowl with boiling water, and something to mix ingredients in."

"R-Right." Prowler was confused from his sudden change from hostility to leadership, but he moved quickly around the room search for the things he needed without question."Would this work?" Prowler removed a bowl from the top shelf of a supply cabinet.

The dragon pulled his head out from under the lower cabinet he was searching in. "Yes, that will do fine, now just get a pot with water," The dragon stuck his head back in the cabinet. "and can I get some light, it's kind of dark down here."

Prowler gave him the candle and hurried out of the room to the kitchen to get the water, not wanting to leave Cynder in the room alone with him. He returned with a pot in hand a few minutes later to see a mix of herbs piled together on the floor, and Cynder still unharmed.

"Have you ever heard of organization?" The dragon asked when he looked to see who had come in. "And why haven't you used any of this to begin with? Spyro probably wouldn't need any help if you utilized your resources properly."

The insult came off bitter at the end and stung Prowler's pride. He knew nothing about the dragon, and the dragon knew nothing about him, yet... he was willing to help. Apparently he knew a part of Spyro's condition and still he wanted to do something about it, even when Prowler had given up on him.

"Do you mind if ask you a question?" Prowler asked when he had set the water next to the dragon.

The dragon looked through his pile of herbs and began to sort them out. "Pass the bowl over here please, and what do you want?"

"Why do you want to help him?" Prowler though about it for a moment then waved the hand that held the bowl back and forth. "and before you say anything, yes, I would like an honest answer." Prowler then handed him the smaller bowl and grinned.

The dragon chuckled lightly. "Good call," He picked up a small root and began to chop it with his claws while he searched through the pile for something else. "but before I answer, tell me this, why is it that you help others?"

"Well it's my job to help others, I am the chief here in the infirmary." Prowler answered pridefully.

"Well obviously it's your job, but there are thousands of other things to do in life, why not something else, something different?"

"I never really wanted to do much else to be honest. Back in my village, you were either a fighter or a farmer. I didn't like either of those so I picked up on medicine. I enjoyed working with it so I decided to study more on it and help with the war in that way."

"And that's exactly what I'm doing, I want to help not just because I want to, but because it must be done." The dragon brushed off the chopped root into the bowl of water and began to stir with his claw.
"I could never seem to wrap my mind around the common idea that just because you don't know someone, it means you can't help them. I may have come off as hostile to you and I understand why you would want to keep him from someone you don't know, but now, as you can see, there are those who are willing to help in any way they can for the soul purpose of doing what needs too be done."

Ok, nice chapter. When next?

And 1 more question, what language you use in your signature?

Not even halfway done with this chapter I use the draconic translator, just type it in google.

Prowler stood in a silent stupor. The dragon before him could not be much older than Spyro or Cynder if at all, but his characteristics, his psychological manipulation, and his knowledge of life at such a young age astounded him.

"I'm almost done." The dragon said suddenly, bringing Prowler back to reality. He dabbed his paw in the water and used it to mash up several other herbs into the mixing bowl, making a strange purple cream.

"So what do you plan to do with this?" Prowler breathed in the boiled mixture. His sinuses cleared suddenly and he felt more comfortable.

"The water has a few herbs in it to help him relax, and the rest of these I will use if I need to when I get to him, all I have now is something for cuts. Now if you don't mind, I'm almost done and I would like to finish this up as quick as possible."

A few minutes passed in silence. The dragon piled up the herbs he didn't use in another bunch and gave them to Prowler while he carried the bowl of purple cream in his mouth. Prowler stuffed the herbs into a small pack and was left to carry the pot of water. "Are you all set?" He asked.

"Yes," The dragon nodded his head after he took a moment to look around the room, checking if he missed anything by mistake. "and if it's alright with you, call me Arin, please." he said before he put the edge of the bowl in his mouth.

"Okay then Arin, let's go." Prowler peered around the corner of the door way to see if the coast was clear. He waved a hand whenever it was good to leave.

The dragon temple halls were practically empty now. All the guards were given time off, so the halls were deserted. Thankfully Spyro's room wasn't that far away from Prowler's, so he and Arin didn't have to worry about running into anyone in the off chance that there was actually someone roaming around.

It was dark. The moon was the only thing that was giving off light now, so there wasn't much detail that could be made out. A few pillars and open balconies that branched off the sides of the temple, several hundred feet above ground.

Prowler stopped at a door and raised a hand. "Stay here," He said quietly. Arin nodded and placed the bowl on the ground, and used a wing to cover his body, waiting in the darkness while Prowler sent his staff away. "Thank you, I will take over now."

Four other cheetahs exited the room, however one stayed behind to talk with Prowler. "Well this is a nice surprise, my little Prowler is actually doing his duty without being asked." Arin raised his wing and tried to get his eyes adjusted to the dark so he could see who was talking. He didn't need to see the face because by the voice alone, he could tell that the one Prowler was talking to was a female.

"Th-thanks Glade, you all have been working hard lately while I slacked off, so I thought you could use some down time like all the others."

"What's in the pot, something for Spyro?" Glade bent over and smelled the contents. "It sure smells nice."

"Yes, it's something I made to help him relax for a little while." Prowler chuckled nervously. His cheeks turned red.

"That's very sweet of you," Glade placed her hand on Prowler's cheek and planted a kiss on the other. "I'll see you around." She gave a sly wink and walked off.

Arin could feel her gaze as she passed him, quickly holding his breath then letting it go when she finally disappeared. Even though he was almost caught, he snickered when she was just out of earshot. Prowler turned to him, his cheeks were bright red under his fur. "Shut up and get inside." He said angrily.

"Hey, I didn't say anything." Arin picked up the bowl again, his snickering turned into a quiet laugh as he walked inside.

"Yeah but you thought it." Prowler's fur was standing on its end, embarrassed by the interaction with the one known as Glade.

Arin placed the bowl down onto the floor by the door. "So this is him, he looks a lot different up close." Arin thought aloud.

"So you have seen him before?" Prowler set the pot down next to him, shut the door and locked it so as not to be disturbed by anyone.

"In a way, yes." Arin nodded. He placed the bowl down beside Spyro and looked at Prowler."Give me a moment to look him over for myself please."

Unlike the infirmary, Spyro's room was well lit. There were only a few candles, but with the way that they were placed, it wasn't a strain on their eyes to see. An assortment of books and scrolls were arranged neatly on their respective shelves inside the walls. His bed was made of a light fabric that looked like silk. The pillows and blankets were removed so all that was left was the mattress. His room was also equipped with a rather large balcony. On the balcony, a birdbath sat in the center, a pool of water rested in a dip in the ground. The floor of the balcony was made out of stone and formed the shape of a three leaf clover. The railing, unlike the floor and supports, were made of an elegant marble.
It was nice, but Arin didn't come to sight see, he and Prowler still needed to work on Spyro.

He walked around Spyro's body a few times. His wounds had been patched up with gauze. His wing and legs had been set and kept in tight splints so if he moved it wouldn't disturb the work they had done. His tail was still left in ruins, the ligaments that held it together were on their last few strands. All of those were just his exterior wounds. Arin kept in mind that there was still the chance of internal wounds. Heart failure, blood clotting, seizures and strokes, all of which were possible. "Geez this guy is a mess." He said aloud.

Prowler nodded to himself in agreement. Spyro was a mess, how he survived still remained a mystery. All he was told by the guardians was that Arin arrived whenever Spyro was recovered, and something had triggered Cynder to lose control again. But to Prowler, that seemed almost impossible.

"What were the reports you were given when he arrived?" Arin asked without taking his eyes off Spyro.

"Only what you see now, near death and losing the fight." Prowler grimly.

"Were there any storms recently?"

"There was a slight shower earlier yesterday afternoon, but nothing more here."

"Strange," Arin placed a paw on Spyro's body. A strange tingling sensation surged through his paw. "It seems as if he was struck by lightning," Arin noticed a burn mark on his back, close to where his heart was. He felt around the area of the burn mark, Spyro's heart pulsed under his paw, but the beats were erratic, trying to push more blood through his body than normal. Trying to fight off the infections that might consume it.

Nice, Dragon of Gold. You make the the story stop in the right time...keep it up...
Anyway, thanks for the dragon languange...

"I haven't been told anything about him being struck by lightning, but I assume that would explain why Cyril's wing was torn."

"Are you sure he wasn't dead before he reached the dragon temple?" Arin asked, now looking at Prowler.

Prowler almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Dead? You must be joking?"

Arin shook his head. "Never mind," He looked back at Spyro, his face showed that he was in agonizing pain. "Give him the water, make him drink at least three bowls worth."

"His body has been refusing almost everything we've given it, what if he spits it back up?"

"Then force him to drink it, I don't care if you have to shove it down his throat, make him drink as much as he can hold in him."

"What about the herbal cream you made?"

"When you're done with the water, apply the cream to everything that is an open wound, I'll start while you deal with that." Arin ripped the bandages off Spyro. His wounds were worse than he thought. Each on was irritated and red with a faint green color. Arin jabbed his side with a claw to test his senses but didn't get the response he was hoping for. He pushed harder inside one of the wounds, and only when his claw fully inside did Spyro shift from the pain. Arin removed his claw from Spyro and sighed "I don't know how well this is going to work but something is better than nothing." He said to himself. He dipped his paw inside of the cream and began to rub it into Spyro's side.

A minute passed, and Arin had completely covered the side he was on and Prowler emptied his third bowl. "He drank it all, no problem here, what is this stuff anyways?"

Arin covered his mouth with one of his wings and yawned. "It's uh... a few herbs mixed together, for some for internal wounds, the most important one was the Valerian root, it supposed to calm the nerves like I said, and help whoever it's used on go to..." Arin yawned again, this time longer than before. "Sleep."

"You didn't..."

"I had to test it, to see if it would work... but I didn't drink enough to make me..." Arin's paw smeared the purple cream down Spyro's side as he slumped to the floor.

Chapter two part two will be posted as soon as I am able to Part one is just now finished xD

"Uhh...somebody home?" Youla ask inside and old cracking house...or we can say fanfic...

Chapter two: Part two.

Morning dawned over the dragon temple several hours later. The sun, not having made it's ascent over the horizon, sent shimmering rays of crimson and red across the skies. A single, yellow dragon paced around the dragon temple.

Volteer had an early night, finally being able to relax and not have to worry about looking for Spyro, but something had bothered his dreams. Volteer had awoken long before the sun rose, unable to sleep from a nightmare he had. He believed it to be stress that was relieving itself through his dream and that it was just a one time thing, but something had been gnawing at him since he arose, drenched in sweat.

To keep warm from the cool autumn morning, he decided to take a walk, hopefully tiring himself out so he would be able to sleep again.

"It felt so real." He couldn't help but speak to himself as his thoughts raced and his steps increased in speed. He made his second pass around the main entrance to the temple and stopped, shaking his head. "I wish you were here with me again."

"Who are you talking about Master Volteer?"

The sudden voice in the dark made Volteer jump. It sounded familiar, the voice cracking with each word. "Riggory is that you?"

"Oh sorry Master Volteer, I didn't mean to startle you." A small mole came into the suns light. He looked to be only a few years older than Spyro. His fur was ruffled and scruffy. He wore a sack nearly twice the size of his body on his back that was overflowing many scrolls, books, and other miscellaneous items. A small pair of glasses rested on his face just before the end of his nose and another atop his head. His right leg was missing, in it's place was a metal plate that supported him. It was surgically sewn into the skin so it would act as his missing leg. "And if you wouldn't mind just calling me Rigg that would be great..."

"That's quite alright, and please forgive me, I have just been a little on edge this morning." Volteer admitted. "What are you doing up so early in the morning? Were you going to see Prowler again?"

Rigg nodded. "The stitches in my leg had opened up while I was testing a new invention of mine last night, I didn't want to wake him up, but now it's starting to get worse." Rigg lifted his leg to show Volteer his wounded leg. The stitches were in fact coming loose, a few had already been pulled out, irritating the soft flesh around his metal leg.

Volteer raised his eye ridge. "What is it that you were making last night?"

"A trap for smaller animals, maybe a few large ones, depending on what kind, just to make hunting a little bit easier." Rigg sat down on the stone floor and removed the sack. He dug inside of it until his fingers hit a hard metallic object. He gripped the metal object, pulled it out, and placed it on the floor in front of Volteer.

"What does it do?" Volteer asked as he stared at the strange contraption.

Rigg switched his glasses and unfolded the metal until it locked in place with a click. "The reason my stitches came undone was from stepping on this." Rigg pointed to the center of it. On two opposite ends of the device, a row of spiked teeth pointed up and ended on deadly points. "When something steps on the center of this," Rigg reached into his sack and pulled out a small book. "Then it closes on it," He dropped the book in the center and the two sides slammed together.

"That seems rather painful." Volteer looked at his own leg and imagined stepping on it himself and shuddered.

Rigg grinned at Volteers obvious discomfort. "Thankfully I stepped on it with my bad leg, or in this case, my good leg." He looked at the pierced holes in his metal leg. "I pulled back a little too hard when I tried to get out of it, ripping open my stitches in the process."

Volteer chuckled. "I swear, one of these days you are going to end up dead from these ideas of yours."

Rigg nodded with a smile. "Yes, but at least it's more fun than guarding the temple or going off to war."

It was Volteer who nodded this time. "Yes, that is quite true. Now, I assume that Prowler has not woken up since you haven't gotten your stitches fixed, or more stitches." Volteer whispered the last thing he said to himself and laughed.

"No, I checked both his office and the infirmary, he wasn't in either." Rigg ignored Volteers sudden laughter.

"Well now that isn't good, come, gather your things, let's go find him."

Rigg packed his things in his sack with a merry smile. He liked Prowler, even if Prowler couldn't say the same thing back. Rigg was one of the most frequent in the temple infirmary, cuts needing more stitches, his leg needing readjusting, so he had plenty of time to become acquainted with Prowler. Most of the moles told him that he would never get anywhere by making his inventions, or improving existing ones. That's why he like to be in Prowler's company. Both of them could share ideals and ideas to each other. He may have spent a little to much time because Prowler had been more agitated from seeing him, so he had tried to stay away until it was a necessity to see him. Rigg finished packing his things and hoisted himself up onto Volteer's lowered neck.

"Hold onto my horns to keep yourself stable." Volteer suggested. "We wouldn't want you to fall off and rip your stitches again."

Rigg bobbed his head and gripped Volteers horns. "Thank you."

The temple was still void of life aside from Volteer and Rigg. With each step, the clicks from Volteers claws echoed off the walls and reverberated back to them.

Rigg stared at the statues of dragons were neatly arranged along the walls, each engraved with their own title and history. Akarite: Fire dragon, age one-hundred forty-seven. Fought off the ape invader and general Tagra, killing him and seventeen other apes before falling in The Battle of the Silver Run. Zi'iva: Ice dragoness...

Yay, back to rock n's roll, only for the moment...

Ok ok alot of words... To many! Mind... Spining... Cant... read.... long.... chapters!

That's why you need to get yourself trained to read...

Okay, Vexus, now you continue this story, again... Nice!