10Scattered Across Time and Space
Notice: before you start reading, if you don't have experience about Darkest Dungeon, don't worry too much. I've endeavoured to make this story enjoyable without my reader's prior knowledge, though I do recommend you watch the game's Intro Cinematic. As it sets the tone for the series and by god, that narrators voice is like butter. Who knows? It might even convince you to get the game. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: Trepidation
Screaming profane curses as he was dragged into the ravenous clutching grasp of the ancestors he wronged so long ago, Malefor was once again torn from the land of the living in a brilliant flash of ancient arcane power. It was a sight that brought Spyro and his dark scaled companion little comfort, the splitting, crumbling earth around him a stark indication of his failings. They had been too late.
"Spyro, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." Cynder wheezed as she limped toward her partner and friend, the black dragoness' wounds from the cataclysmic battle finally catching up with her as she approached.
"Don't be. It's over." He replied, turning to face a massive gash that tore open in the world's crust, the plumes of purple hellfire spiderwebbing their way across the stone being little more than a hint of the dire fate of the people the purple dragon fought so hard for.
"So this is it?"
Spyro didn't reply, what more was there to do? Malefor had won, the Destroyer already did what it was made to do. Those ancestral spirits may have doomed him to the same fate he intended to bring onto the world, but what did that change? They were all going to die anyway. All his trails and tribulations, his sacrifices and losses had been for nothing. He should have been angered, frustrated, overcome with grief, just... something. But no. He wasn't even numb to it; there was nothing — only an overwhelming emptiness.
Then, there was a warm feeling. Something familiar.
"Spyro... When a dragon dies, he does not truly leave this world. His spirit lives on, binding itself with nature, offering hope for the future..." His old master's stern but kind voice echoed in his head as if he was right there standing next to Spyro, speaking of wisdom he remembered from what seemed like an eternity ago took on a new life in the crumbling cavern. The spirits of the Ancestors sealing away the Dark Master once again were proof enough of the truth of his words. Perhaps, if everything that Spyro was told about the godly power that came with being a purple dragon was right then, maybe there was something he could do. Perhaps he could afford to hope.
"I know what I need to do, just get out of here Cynder," Spyro said with a wave of newfound resolve.
"Spyro no... You don't have to do anything; let's just go!" Cynder pleaded, meeting her companion's stern gaze.
"Where, Cynder? There will be nothing left! The world is breaking apart. But I think I can stop it... I think I'm meant to."
Cynder's expression softened, her wings fluttering slightly as she steeled herself with a breath, "Then I'm with you."
Exchanging one final glance, Spyro closed his eyes and reached within himself, the raw, untamed magic of his soul flickering fiercely as he began to undo all of the subconscious locks placed upon it after the last time he lost control. He couldn't afford to hold back. Crackling purple light began to shine out from the gaps in his scales as he prepared himself for the incomprehensibly trying task ahead of him. It was always a peculiar sensation, allowing the Convexity to overtake him. It wasn't unpleasant or ominous like the first time he was exposed to it. It was more like an extension of himself, of his hopes and desires made manifest. One might even say the power of his soul was something completely different than that chaotic force. Just as well, he needed absolute clarity of mind for what came next.
His limbs losing their contact with the ground, Spyro spread his wings wide, a relentless torrent of light enveloping him as he willed the world back together with every fibre of his being. It hurt. More than anything the young dragon had ever felt before. As though he was suffering the world's fate in its place. Every stone, every tree, every drop of water, every unfortunate soul flung into the endless expanse.
He felt it all.
It was overwhelming. The hungering void on all sides, tearing at his soul piece by agonizing piece. His tenuous grip on the world slipping more and more. Any second now, both he and the world would be scattered to sweet oblivion.
Through it all, Cynder stood by him. Even as the light grew too bright for her closed eyes, she didn't look away. As reality started to warp under the strain of the purple dragon's unfathomable power, she held fast. Spyro was the reason she could stand at all, the reason she got a second chance, and if this were the end for them, she would stand by him until her body gave out. She owed him that much. Through it all she could hear it, the silent screams echoing from beyond the newly forming tears in space and time. Consciousness was failing her at long last, Cynder uttered one final sentence, putting all her emotion behind it despite knowing it would be lost in the cacophony of roaring power and tearing stone.
"I love you..."
And then, everything went white.
Awakening with shivering splutter, Cynder's mental faculties returned to her all at once in overpowering disarray of scents, sights, and feelings. Cold, it was so cold and so dark. The musty stench of long bleached bones and aerosolized decay filled to the air of the salt-soaked cobbles she lay upon. Leaning herself off her side, red hot pain laced up her back, a yelp escaping her lips for her trouble. It would seem that the powerful numbing effect of the adrenalin had long since worn off. Groaning in discomfort as she resigned herself to rest a little bit longer, Cynder took the time to study her surroundings.
Broken glass from ornate window frames and upturned stonework littered the ground of this long since abandoned hall, the remains of artworks and heirlooms depicting strange symbols and odd ape-like creatures Cynder had never seen before. Wear from the inexorable march of time and the suffocating darkness made it difficult to glean any more from the long forgotten relics, but Cynder had more pressing issues on her mind anyway. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her very soul. It was in the air, a seething, insidious taint, gnawing at the back of her mind. It wasn't like the overpowering presence that tore at her soul in the presence of the Dark Master, no, it was far more... subtle. Wherever Spyro had sent her wasn't safe...
Cynder shot up with a start, the memories of her last encounter flooding her mind. She was alive! Spyro had done the impossible, he stopped the world from breaking apart! Everything they had done wasn't in vain! Joy and happiness streamed down her face, staining the ground with new warmth as her body trembled for a moment. She had spat in the face of that arrogant monster who had caused so much suffering; she could picture him looking on in horror from his eternal prison as all his machinations were torn asunder. A small chuckle escaped her lips; she had no doubt Spyro would appreciate the thought.
Just like that, Cynder's heart sank like a stone. What happened to Spyro?
Surely he was somewhere nearby, he had to be. He couldn't be dead, no, not after that.
Gingerly pushing herself up with newfound urgency, Cynder scanned her surroundings for any sign of her purple friend in the yawning dark. Slowly limping through the corridor, Cynder's breathing grew more and more restless as hope grew more scarce as she slunk past bleached bones that littered parts of the floor. Dark, dismal thoughts crawled their way from the depths of her mind, gnawing at her resolve when each newly rounded corner revealed naught but a new passage and dusty cobwebs in this winding labyrinth. Cynder was mere moments from slumping over in despair when a glint caught her eye, faint and unremarkable from this distance, she tentatively approached. Her heart soared upon seeing the orangeish golden hue of one of Spyro's wing poking out from behind a broken stone column.
Rushing over as fast as her injuries would allow, Cynder's eyes glazed over at Spyro's motionless form. A paw went to his neck at once, and a sigh of unconstrained relief escaped her at the sensation of a pulse, weak though it may be. Though that was to be expected with what he went through. Nestling next to him, Cynder allowed herself to calm slightly as her worries abated. Draping a wing over him to share her warmth, Cynder waited. Content that they made it out alive.
Her thoughts wandered back just before Spyro pulled the world back together when amidst the absolute chaos, she proclaimed her feelings for him. A warm feeling flushed her face as she quietly wondered whether or not he had heard her. Her pleasant thoughts were distracting her from the oppressive environment as she waited for him to awaken.
Fortunately, she didn't have to wait too long.
"Nnnng...?" Spyro mumbled, his eyes twitching under their lids as he slowly began to stir.
"Shhh... easy now, Spyro. It's over; you did it." Cynder reassured, gently nuzzling him as he opened his eyes.
"Cynder? Where are we?"
"Honestly? I was hoping you could tell me." Cynder replied sheepishly, "I don't remember anything after you pulled the planet back together, there was only this overpowering light and then... this."
After a mild case of vertigo from lifting his head a bit too quickly, his face rapidly contorting to meet the tumultuous emotions flashing in his mind. Confusion, concern, relief, before finally settling on understanding. "I see. You're not hurt are you?"
Cynder shook her head, "I should be asking you that, Spyro. I honestly thought you were dead when I first found you. I'm still wrapping my head around how you're still able to stay awake after... that."
"That bad, huh?"
Cynder didn't respond, averting her gaze and fidgeting with a pebble.
"I'm sorry if I made you worry..." Spyro said solemnly, dipping his head for a moment, "So what now?"
"Now? Let's just get out of here as quickly as we can. Try to find somewhere safe to rest." Cynder replied, looking more alert "Can you feel it? That feeling in the air?"
"Yeah... It's familiar..."
Cynder's eyes narrowed, "How do you mean familiar? Have you been here before?"
Spyro shook his head, "No... I don't know how to explain it... when I was pulling the planet back together, through the pain, I felt something... else. It pulled at me from... somewhere. It felt wrong. Like this."
"I guess I understand- Wait, pain? Spyro... what happened?" Cynder asked, her features becoming distraught.
"Cynder it's fine I'm-"
"No, Spyro it isn't fine." Cynder said firmly, staring him straight in the eye, "You've always taken it on yourself to bear the burdens of the world because you're the 'purple dragon' destained by prophecy to something great. Well now, you've gone and done it. You saved the world, Spyro. You don't have to bear that burden anymore. If something is wrong, then I want to hear it."
A stunned silence echoed down the ruined halls as Spyro gazed back into Cynder's gleaming, emerald eyes, the utter sincerity in her voice leaving little doubt that she wouldn't let this go. "I understand where you're getting at but... this hardly seems like the place to have a conversation like that. But I promise you, once we find some gems to patch ourselves up and we can fly back to Warfang, we'll sort this out."
"That's all I can ask." Cynder relented, "Can you walk?"
"I think so."
Pulling himself gingerly to his feet, Spyro hobbled his way alongside his friend down those blackened halls of antiquity. One foot after the other, Cynder offering a kind shoulder to lean on whenever he stumbled. Slowly but surely coming back to terms with his skewed sense of balance. Soon enough he could walk well enough, albeit without the same vigour. Though he wasn't dragging his paws on the cobbles anymore, that faint scrapping sound seemed to persist... No, it seemed to be following them. Slowly turning his head, Spyro froze.
"Cynder we need to go, now!" Spyro said with a startled urgency.
Turning to reply, Cynder almost recoiled in horror at the sight of old bones of the long dead that littered the ground of this hall, slowly pulling themselves back into a twisted mockery of life. Even the wraiths of Dante's Freezer were downright pleasant compared to the hungering lifeless gaze from those empty eyes of those, things. Clawing and rending at whatever was near as they drew ever closer. Scraps of armour, cloth still clinging to their twisted forms forced into motion from ages unknowable.
Perhaps Cynder could have driven them back, but she was in no condition to risk finding out if her fear element would work on those shambling corpses and Spyro was in no state to call on the power needed to scatter them. So the two adolescents ran for their lives, a new wave of sweet pain numbing stimulant pumping through their veins. Perhaps they were fleeing from something far worse the simple end of their mortal existences if the rattling and unnatural groans of their ancient pursers was anything to go by.
Rounding corner after corner, dashing frantically through any rotten door that would offer passage to help hide from the sounds of the ever encroaching threats that seemed to enclose them from every misshapen visage hiding in the dark, Spyro and Cynder could eventually run no longer. Hearts drumming in the back of their heads, the dragons hid behind the rubble of a half crumbled pillar, desperately trying to silence the screaming for air their lungs begged for as they gathered themselves.
"We can't just keep running blind, Cynder." Spyro whispered as loudly as he dared, "It's only a matter of time before we trap ourselves in a dead end and I'm not sure we'd be able to fight through so many like this."
"I know." She hissed back, hundreds of scenarios and outcomes racing past her eyes as she kept them trained on the blackness behind them, "Do you think you can use any of your elements if it comes down to it?"
"I... I don't know... I've never been this drained before."
Slowly, but unmistakably, the sound of the walking dead began to crawl back into their sense of hearing.
"Spyro, I may be able to buy you some time."
"No, Cynder that's not-"
"Listen to me, Spyro!" Cynder almost yelled, "I may not be in the best condition, but that hasn't stopped me before. You trust me don't you?"
"That isn't the problem, Cynder, I think we're surrounded."
The grinding clank of steel against stone finally reached Cynder's ears from beyond her planned escape route, dark revelation flashing across her features as her hope once again was dashed. Cursing herself, Cynder drew her wings close, trying to hide as much as herself as possible, Spyro following her example. If they couldn't flee from the hungering dead, then maybe they could take them by surprise. Perhaps she could carve a way through them for Spyro to follow; it wouldn't be easy. For all she knew, they didn't see with some indecent approximation of sight and instead could sense her very life force by whatever foul power animated them.
The first of the shambling bone crowd rounded the corner, four of them in total, no doubt followed by many more. Rusted swords, spears and makeshift clubs no doubt scavenged during the pursuit. Cynder grimaced, they were intelligent enough to make use of tools as opposed to just mindlessly clawing and biting at whatever they could grab. Their situation was steadily becoming more and drier by the second, injury and despondence setting the stage for what may be their last stand.
Back legs tensing in anticipation, Cynder prepared herself to protect Sypro with everything she had, going over her plan of attack one last time to be sure. First, she would try to scatter them with a blast of her fear element and take apart as many as she could before they could regroup. If that didn't work, she would do everything she could to thin their numbers and pray that Spyro could call on at least one of his elements to assist her. Cynder waited with bated breath for as many of her prey to get as close as she dared to allow...
She never got the chance.
Light cut through the bleakness like a curtain of divine radiance, and for the briefest moment, the undead ceased their advance in apparent hesitance. Only the sound of solid footsteps and the burning of torch-fire filled the hall for the longest second of the two dragon's lives. Abhorrent shrieks and hisses of anger erupted from the fiends as they charged straight past Spyro and Cynder's hiding place to confront this new source of their ravenous ire. Light stung their eyes as they adjusted from pitch blackness, yet they were unable to look away from the incredible scene that unfolded before them.
They were like those ape-like creatures depicted in the ruined paintings and busts Cynder saw earlier, standing upright like those from the Cheetah tribes. Their heads were furless save for the short scruffy fur top of one, at least that's what Spyro assumed, their bodies were covered almost entirely in foreign but visually distinct apparel making gleaning anything but the shape of their forms impossible. Though there were only four of them, they were extremely well coordinated, especially the heavily armoured one and the one draped in a very well made coat with a knife and a strange contraption in his off hand. The nimbler of the two dashing forward with a stab, backing off swiftly to let the Armoured One cleave his weighty sword through the foe.
"We are the flame!" he bellowed as his steel split bone.
The other two were no slouches either, far from it. The small one welding a straight mace seemed to mutter odd sounding incantations from the book in her off hand that shrouded her companions in a gentle light whenever one took a hit. The one in black robes donning a corvid inspired mask lobbed pouches of an acidic fluid that ate away at the very bones of the unholy cretins, keeping firmly out of reach.
The repugnant monsters never stood a chance.
Even as more came down from the hall, these strange warriors took them apart piece by piece, littering the ground with shattered and half melted bone and rotten sinew. Until every last one of them was annihilated.
Tentatively, Spyro and Cynder peered out from their hiding spot just enough to not be seen. The battle over, the warriors began looking through the remains of their fallen adversaries. The Armoured one grabbing anything that took his fancy and stuffing them into a pouch when he thought the others weren't looking, the Masked One and the Coated One both looking somewhat annoyed with him. Satisfied, they continued down toward where Spyro and Cynder hid.
"Sh-should we try to talk to them? Maybe ask directions on how to leave?" Spyro asked hesitantly.
"And what if they're some special faction of the Dark Army who hasn't heard that they lost yet?" Cynder retorted, ducking her head down and pulling in her tail "If they turned on us, I don't think there's anything we could do against a group that well coordinated."
"Then what do you think we should do?"
"We shadow them." Cynder replied sternly, "Listen in, find out as much as we can. Let them deal with those things, while we decide if they can be trusted. If they can't, we let them lead us out of here. Otherwise, we do it your way."
"And what if we're found out? It'd ruin any goodwill we could establish by approaching them with trust." Spyro grumbled for a moment, before relenting with a sigh, "But you're right, we don't know enough. We lay low, for now, listen in and figure out our next move."
With that settled, the two saviours of the world held their breath as the mysterious warriors approached, neither of them daring to even think of breathing until the footsteps were firmly in the distance.
Thank you for reading. I made this fic as a challenge for myself to meld two thematically different series together to stave off writer's block. I have to say it was fun and I may continue with it if I get enough feedback. I've got an idea of what'll happen next, but until then, have a great day.