Well, I checked the rules and this is totes allowed, so I'm gonna post it here just to see what happens.

In the Empty Valley
by Razz
Cynder follows the gold tip of Spyro's tail down, down toward sweet green grass and flowers in bloom. The sky is brilliant, dotted only with white clouds and birdsong. They land and she bounds after him, inciting an impromptu game of tag to exorcise her youthful energy but he tires quickly (it's not every day one saves the world). She calms then and urges him to rest. His eyes are trusting beneath the exhaustion and she assures him that she will keep watch while he recovers.
He grows still, falling into a sleep so deep it could be mistaken for death were it not for the slow rise and fall of his ribs. Trotting around him quietly, listening carefully, fluttering skyward to be sure, Cynder finds the valley deserted. The cheetahs all came to Warfang and the Hermit more than likely perished in his claustrophobic cul-de-sac. All is as she expected it to be.
Stretching, her joints popping softly, she contemplates purple dragons. The one nearly ripped apart the world twice and brought several species to extinction. The other was nothing but a tool to be used by the world around him, a vessel to be filled by whatever was poured inside and the cracks are beginning to show. She has touched Malefor's soul deep enough to know that he, too, had been innocent once. A short lifetime in his company and a few weeks in Spyro's has told her all she needs to know. Cynder nods once, firmly, confirming her own decision.
Too deep in slumber to notice, Spyro doesn't even shift as scales slide around his neck and cool metal presses into his skin. She wonders idly if he will dream of this but decides likely not; his sleep is too soon and deep to be yet filled with dreams. With one ear she listens to the birds while the other is attuned to his quickly labored breathing.
Without his elemental powers, Spyro is only flesh. Cynder doesn't look down at his face, knowing already what she will see and not wishing to see it again on such a lovely day. Her tail is cramping, a tiny rivulet of blood slithering between her bracelet and scales from the metal's deep bite into his neck. She holds him until the only heat left is from the sun on his scales. To be certain, she slips her tail blade into the weak spot under his chin and saws until it strikes bone.
When she steps away, wiping her blade clean in the grass and gingerly easing out the tight muscles, she looks back. From behind, it looks like he's sleeping. No one is likely to realize that he didn't die when the world split apart; by the time anyone comes across what's left there will be no evidence to determine just what killed this young dragon. At last, someone has done what the Ancestors should have done long ago and finally rid the world of the purple dragons.
There is a flash of light and the body vanishes, replaced by a small bush of blue gems. On instinct, Cynder smashes them apart, the fragments swirling toward her and into her skin, nourishing her body the way food does other creatures. All that is left of Spyro is some crushed grass and a tiny spot of red amidst the green. She feels fresh, new, strong and accomplished.
A gentle smile crosses her face as Cynder leaps skyward. There are few now left who know her name and fewer still who know her face. It will take some time to truly bring her plans to fruition, some years to grow back into her body and master her new powers fully. Thanks to the purple dragons she has all the skills she'll need to make the world truly right one day. By the time anyone remembers who she is, it will be far too late.