The Legend of Spyro: A Duel with Destiny

Playing God

I've spent this week getting high on inspiration, whic has made a nice change from the terrible months that preceeded it. I have no excuses for the delay, and I wouldnt bother to list them if I did, but I can promise the next chapter is nearly ready and will be posted in the next few weeks!

Hopefully that makes you happy, and now that you're in a good mood I'd like to once again ask for lots of thoughtful comments!
Imagine if I got one from every single one of my readers, that would be quite a sight...
No matter when you're reading this I'll still read and appreciate what you write, so don't worry if there are 80 chapters after this one,  take time to tell me about this chapter anyway! :P

Spyro could see no way of escaping his current predicament. The dark crystal band on his neck was sapping almost all of his energy; he still had enough mana to sense the air around him, enough to give a static shock perhaps, but nothing more. He could also sense the stone of the platform beneath his paws. He had tried to use magic to shatter the stone that held his rear left leg, that stone had been weak and he could sense it, but he didn't quite have enough magic to force the weaknesses to crack.

He could, however, whistle.

Spyro had seen Imperia sing before, and she'd been capable of two, three and even four part harmonies with herself. Listening to her sing was an amazing experience.

Cynder too had been capable of singing with both her and Spyro's voice, and her singing was no less beautiful. Spyro thought himself a dreadful singer, but he was now planning to get lessons.

Unfortunately merely having wind magic didn't give him much control over the sound and pitch of his voice; he would need to practice that part of singing in the future. The good news was that he had only taken twenty minutes to learn how to speak and make it sound as if his voice was coming from different places. Even with his very limited powers he could affect the wind that much.

It was a cool trick; one that the wind dragons Spyro had met really seemed to like doing. Now he knew how to do it too. Spyro was pleased with that.

A whistle was a simple sound, and Spyro had decided to start whistling at one pitch, and then use wind to throw his voice before whistling at a different pitch. It should have let him whistle in harmony with himself, but for some reason he wasn't having much success. The whistle simply changed pitch to what he was doing with his mouth, no matter where the sound came from.

There had to be more to it than just that. Imperia or Cynder would teach him whatever he hadn't managed to figure out.

Spyro looked up at the sun, dawn had broken almost an hour ago, but there were always clouds shrouding Concurrent Skies. The sun was really only a brighter smudge in the dull cloud cover. The best way to see came from the lightning, which was remarkably frequent and came every few seconds. It was mostly cloud to cloud lightning, and it was quieter then cloud to earth lightning, but it was no less bright and it lit the area for about half a second with each flash.

He could see a few of the lower towers of the fortress from his platform, and the highest tower disappeared into the clouds above him. When he reared up on his hind legs he had a fairly good view of the whole rooftop. Spyro hadn't liked the place when he'd first come here, young and terrified, to save Ignitus. But it was beginning to grow on him now, and he wondered if Cynder would feel the same way when she arrived.

The purple dragon hoped that Malefor would show up soon, he was bored, and there was no denying that Malefor made for interesting conversation.

Spyro's wish was promptly granted. He saw a dark shape flying towards the fortress, as the shape neared he recognised that it was a dragon, and after several more seconds Malefor landed lightly on the platform.