That's right: Here we go again. It's chapter one, but not as you know it.
If you approve of this chapter, then someday soon it's very likely that this will be the opening chapter of Destiny. More on that in the author's note at the end of this chapter.
But first: The story.
Cynder dived under the ferocious attack of the monster. She slid low around its legs, her long tail whipping and her steely tail blade gleaming with poison.
Her attacks bounced off its throat and belly harmlessly, despite hitting her targets with perfect accuracy.
The monster was a troll, a huge beast about the size of a full grown dragon but much heavier and bulkier. It was green and its thick tough hide made it look as if its body was made out of mossy rock. It had four legs, the front two of which had huge bulging fists that it swung like clubs trying to strike her down.
Any normal troll would have been a laughable challenge for Cynder, she was a grown dragon now and a master fighter. This one, however, wore a mask of earthy green which was covered with powerful sigils that protected the beast from all attacks except earth magic.
Cynder was much faster than the troll was; she darted back in front of it and slashed at its throat, then jumped off the ground, ramming it with her shoulder before darting out of the way.
The troll staggered slightly, vulnerable to an attack.
"Spyro!" Cynder shouted, but no purple dragon flew in to help.
She had lost him.
Cynder snarled, her eyes brimming with sudden tears. The troll recovered and swung a mighty overhand blow, but she took to the air in one smooth movement and the troll roared in frustration as it missed.
Cynder blinked the tears away angrily; she had wasted enough time crying. It wasn't like Spyro was dead, she had just lost him.
The black dragoness glanced around. The landscape was wild, covered with forests and broken up by hills and valleys. There were mountains in the distance. Cynder looked down again, considering the problem of the troll and trying not to think about Spyro. It was hard; he was always in her head, the possibilities of what might have been, and what might still be.
Cynder knew that her situation was her own fault, and the shame of what had happened stung her pride deeply.
She focused blades of wind on her wingtips and flicked them at the troll, paining the beast but not harming it. It leaped, a remarkable feat for such a heavy creature, but Cynder drifted higher and it fell short. She didn't even bother flapping her deep red wings; the slightest shifts of wind magic could take her wherever she wanted to go.
She could fly back to Warfang if she wanted to, it'd be easy. But everybody would still be there, and she knew that things wouldn't have gotten any better. In fact it was likely that everything had only gotten a whole lot worse.
She refused to fly back to Warfang, she didn't want to go anywhere near that place.
The troll bounded forwards and hurled itself into the air again. It was quite determined. Cynder looked down at it scornfully, and then she glanced around looking for a way to kill it.
There was a cliff, not too far away, if the troll jumped from the top of it then the fall might kill it. Cynder began to kite the creature over towards the cliff, taunting it with gusts of wind that made it stumble. She hung in the air just within the creature's reach, while still effortlessly evading all of its attacks.
She had time to think as she flew, and as usual her thoughts turned to the past. Back to her memories of Spyro.
The months that had followed the defeat of the Dark Master and the so called destruction of the world had been the best months of her life. Her life hadn't been very nice up until that point, which made the change to having a life that was actually good all the more startling.
The Dark Master had created a creature called the Destroyer and sent it out to end the world, it had nearly done its job, but Spyro and Cynder had travelled together to the dragon city of Warfang and then onwards to the volcano in the Burned Lands, fighting and defeating The Dark Master, the evil purple dragon Malefor.
Spyro later claimed to have no idea how he did what he'd done afterwards. The world was ending around them, and he had brought it all back together with his magic. He'd never been able to replicate the magic he'd used to do this, and no legends that he knew of referenced any other dragons that had done a similar deed.
After they'd survived the worlds end Spyro and Cynder had decided not to return to Warfang, they'd sent word that they were both still alive, but neither of them had wanted to go back.
Cynder smiled faintly, lost in her thoughts. The world had mended itself over several weeks, and creatures everywhere had come out of hiding, including the remnants of Malefor's Dark Army.
Spyro and Cynder had taken to hunting these bands of orcs, grublins, trolls and assorted monsters down. The purple and black dragon together were vastly powerful, and they'd won every battle they'd been in. Cynder could have lived like that forever, playing, fighting, sleeping together with Spyro under the stars. It was a happiness she'd never known or imagined, and she was sharing it with the dragon she loved.
The two of them had been chained together at the time, connected by a cord of energy and two matching neck bands, bands which Malefor had put on them but which had not been undone by his defeat. Neither of them had minded that chain, it was just one more thing that they shared.
Eventually, however, Spyro had expressed his want to go back to the dragon city of Warfang. Spyro's kindness was one of the things Cynder loved most about him, and she had agreed. She'd regretted it.
Cynder reached the edge of the cliff and the troll hesitated, it was not intelligent enough to know that Cynder had lured it here, but now that it saw the cliff it knew better than to jump off it. It roared in frustration and swiped at the air in her direction.
Cynder closed her eyes, but the memories were already coming back.
She and Spyro had been treated as heroes, but there were many in Warfang who still had deep hatred for Cynder. Among the older dragons she was hated for her past actions, among the dragons of her own age she was hated for being better than they were.
Cynder was brave, strong, beautiful, powerful and intelligent; she was also linked to Spyro by the chain they wore. For this she'd been envied, and because so many of the older dragons didn't want her around, she and Spyro soon ended up with many admirers... but no friends.
Soon the rumours had started; rumours that played up Spyro's heroism while only driving Cynder further away from everyone.
'Cynder is still evil, a wicked, lying dragon twisted by the darkness in her heart. Only brave Spyro can keep her under control, she has to serve him like a slave. You don't believe that? Then tell me, why is she chained to him?'
Cynder snarled as the memory of those words went through her head. She didn't recall who had spoken them, or why she had heard them, but the words themselves had tormented her horribly. No amount of arguing or denying the rumours was enough to stop the reaction that had started, Cynder was subject to cruel insults and disgusted looks. She had to get the chain off; she simply couldn't tolerate it being there.
Spyro had agreed, and after weeks of trying they'd finally been able to remove the chain.
Cynder had hoped this would make things better, but it only got worse. Spyro and Cynder had been separated, given different teachers and tasks to do around the city. Every dragon who hated Cynder made sure that they saw as little of each other as possible, and still Cynder was reviled.
Both of them could see it happening, but there was nothing that they could do. Cynder had thought she feared nothing, and it was true that violence and pain held no terror for her, but she soon learned that she did have a fear, fear of her fellow dragons.
Spyro wanted to help her, he supported her and tried to comfort her, but he was constrained by his admirers and the dragons who hated Cynder, cut off from her. Cynder was left with only two regular friends.
One was Volteer, the electric guardian, who was one of the three highest ranked dragons in the city at that time but who still didn't have the authority to command everyone to be nice to Cynder. The other was Imperia, a wind dragoness who was in a relationship with Volteer.
Eventually Cynder had left. She'd stalked out of Warfang late one night and simply never returned.
That had been several years ago now, but the loss of the dragon she loved, and the damage that had been done to her pride, were still raw and painful.
How dare this troll wear an earthen mask? How dare it remind her of Spyro, or everything that she had lost!
Cynder dived from on high, black smoky shadow billowed from her jaws and swirled around her scales, the troll was engulfed in darkness and blinded.
Cynder grasped its head; she landed on its back with her wings spread wide, her claws digging into its throat as she tried her hardest to make it suffer a taste of the pain that the black dragoness was remembering because of it. The troll swung its clubbed fist at her, roaring.
Cynder caught the attack in her paws.
She'd grown in her exile; she'd matured into a young adult dragoness, slender, graceful, curvaceous and beautiful with grand wings and fine horns. She looked a great deal like the image that Malefor had crafted for her, albeit smaller, back when she was the Terror of the Skies and known far and wide for her power.
And she was powerful. Cynder stepped onto and then down the troll's back; landing behind it while it struggled to keep up with her speed. Then, she hooked her claws around it and, with a scream of fury and effort, threw both herself and the huge creature off the edge of the cliff.
Cynder's wings caught the air, snapping open and catching her before she began to tumble. She hovered above and watched coldly as the troll plunged to the ground below.
There was a dull thud, muffled by the distance. The fall didn't kill it, but the troll was wounded. Cynder considered swooping down on it and picking it up to drop it again. With wind magic to aid her flying she'd be able to do it, despite the big beast being nearly her size and several times her weight.
Then she noticed that the mask had been knocked from the troll's face, making it vulnerable to other attacks. For a moment Cynder was tempted to go down there and finish it off, but she changed her mind.
The troll staggered upright, it was hurt and angry. It looked around for the form of a black dragoness which it expected to see lying limp on the ground. It saw nothing, but it looked up when it heard a sharp cracking sound.
The troll looked up just in time to see a large part of the cliff face split free and come crashing down on its head. That was the last thing it ever saw.
Cynder used wind magic to divert the huge cloud of dust that billowed up around her, and allowed gravity to start her descent.
It had been years since she'd gone, years since she'd last seen Spyro. Playing, fighting and sleeping under the stars; it wasn't the same without him. She hadn't even said goodbye in person, she'd had to ask Volteer to carry a message.
She regretted leaving, but she felt it had been the right thing to do. Now she didn't really have much choice in the matter.
Cynder had spent her time honing her fighting skills, constantly improving herself. She was as confident in her abilities as she had ever been; despite her still young age she was stronger than any average dragon and at a level comparable to the Guardians of Warfang. She just wished that she could be as confident in dealing with problems that she wasn't allowed to solve with violence.
Cynder landed gracefully on the rubble she'd created. She always made sure to look her best, even if there was nobody around to see her. Looking good was simply a habit.
Cynder frowned as a shadow passed over her, she looked up towards the sun and saw a dragon was circling above her.
She watched it warily; it was a graceful female, slender and voluptuous with large wings. The dragon was smooth edged, she had no tail blade, or wing blades like Cynder had.
Cynder saw silver scales gleaming in the sunlight, and a metal band around the new dragoness's neck. She called a greeting, allowing herself to smile.
The dragoness dipped her wings and fell into a graceful showy spin, landing dramatically in front of Cynder.
"Imperia." Cynder said, smiling. "It's good to see you."
Imperia's name did not suit her; she was not imperious or imperial in the slightest. She was a playful, fun loving dragon who had always been incredibly kind to Cynder.
Volteer had visited when he could, but it had been Imperia who had kept Cynder sane during her time alone. The wind dragoness had met up with her every few days, and the two of them had spent long hours together, playing, training or just talking.
"Cynder! Oh it's been way too long." Imperia skipped forwards, rearing up, and gave Cynder a hug.
Cynder accepted the hug, smiling at Imperia's comment. "It's only been three days!" She laughed. "We see each other a lot."
"It feels like it's been longer." Imperia laughed. "A lot has happened since then. I'll fill you in on all the details."
Cynder nodded. "Sounds good." The presence of the silver dragoness cheered her up immediately.
Imperia had been the mother figure that Cynder had never before known or expected to have; the elder dragoness had taken Cynder under her wing as both a friend and a teacher. She was also the only dragon Cynder had ever heard of who had a twin, an identical twin sister in fact. Cynder supposed that they'd hatched from the same egg, implausible though it seemed. Imperia's twin, a dragoness named Altia, disliked Cynder considerably.
Imperia wore a metal choker; a stylish piece of jewellery just like the one Cynder had once worn, in order to help other dragons to identify which of them was which.
Cynder no longer wore anything, in fact she didn't have any possessions either; she'd gladly removed her jewellery and abandoned her armour in the week following the defeat of the Dark Master. Imperia, however, wore her choker proudly.
Cynder didn't need to see the choker to know which dragoness was which, Imperia was far more sassy and flirty, she always had a bright smile on her face and a kind look in her eyes. Altia was beautiful, but stiff and proper; she came across as distant and arrogant. Imperia was liquid and immature, it was easy to recognise her at a glance.
Imperia hopped backwards into the air, turning and touching down lightly; she was a skilled wind mistress and she always moved as if she weighed nothing. She'd taught Cynder a great deal about wind magic, and plenty of other things besides.
Cynder had picked up most of what Imperia had taught her, as the wind dragoness was a great teacher. Imperia, however, always responded to that compliment by saying Cynder was just an extraordinary student.
Certainly the wind dragoness had been a helpful influence on her. She had been the one who had encouraged Cynder to refine her style and movements, shaping Cynder's graceful yet deadly appearance.
Imperia was not as intimidating as Cynder, but she was sexy, seductive, stylish and skilled at manipulating others. When she wanted something she usually got it, and Cynder saw by the look in Imperia's eyes that right now she wanted something.
"So what has happened?"
Imperia smiled playfully. "You'll want to be there for yourself."
"Back in Warfang?" Cynder clarified. "You're asking me to go back to Warfang?"
Imperia nodded. "Yes I am. And please don't just say no. I wouldn't ask you to come back if I didn't think it would work."
Cynder looked sceptical. "Why would it work?"
Imperia hesitated for a moment. "Several reasons..."
Cynder was about to comment when Imperia continued.
"I want to explain on the way, so if you're coming then let's go."
Cynder glared. "Sometimes you're really annoying."
Imperia laughed. "Why thank you, I try. So do you have anything to bring with you?"
Cynder shook her head. "I don't own anything."
"I didn't think so." Imperia said. "Now let's go!"
The silver dragoness took off in a curvet, making the movement as showy as possible. Cynder sighed, and then took off with similar flair.
Imperia laughed again. "Very nice takeoff, you looked good." She banked north and Cynder joined her, flying slightly above.
"I reserve the right to leave at any time." Cynder said.
"Trust me, you won't want to." Imperia said playfully.
"So what's the big deal? Why are we going to Warfang?"
Imperia smiled sweetly. "Because everyone will be distracted tomorrow, and there will be celebrations aplenty, and that makes for the perfect moment for you to return to the city."
"And what will everyone be celebrating?" Cynder asked.
"The end of a war." Imperia told her.
The black dragoness pressed the silver for details until the sun went down, but she got nothing else from Imperia. Her curiosity didn't allow her to leave and as always she enjoyed the older dragoness's company a great deal, hardly noticing the ground rushing by below them. Imperia passed the flying time by chattering to Cynder about Volteer's latest project, a detailed examination of the properties of different solids and liquids, focusing on their magical and electrical conductivity as well as their melting or boiling points.
Clouds began to shroud the sky, threatening rain. Soon the threat of rain became realised, and drops began to hit Cynder's wings and body.
She created a bubble of wind around herself, a simple technique she'd learned from Imperia years ago. It deflected all light objects away from her and required very little energy or attention to maintain.
Cynder sensed Imperia do the same thing only a moment after she created her own bubble, their respective magics brushed at each other as they each manipulated the air between them.
Cynder smiled and flicked a few drops of rain into Imperia's shield, splashing her upper body. The more direct attacks were not deflected by wind shields. Imperia giggled and responded by counterattacking with a few raindrops of her own. Her first shot hit Cynder right on the nose and Imperia's smirk told Cynder that was exactly where she'd aimed it.
Cynder responded by working on her own accuracy, and the two of them sniped at each other with raindrops until they were both almost as wet as they would have been if they'd just let themselves get rained on. Imperia was more skilled, but Cynder was able to hold her own.
"It's lucky we're not using more powerful magic." Imperia laughed. "I could have deflected or dodged all of those raindrops easily. Just for the record."
"I could have too." Cynder replied. "I'd just fly away from you if I didn't want to get counterattacked."
Imperia giggled. "This is fun!" A moment later she yelped. "Cynder! That hit my eye!"
Cynder laughed. "That's what I was aiming at."
"You, young lady, are very badly behaved!"
"Says you."
"I'm a paragon of properness." Imperia insisted.
Cynder laughed again. "If even half of what you've told me is true you're a long way from being proper!"
"Maybe not, but I'm well liked, and that's what I want to be." Imperia winked. "In fact I have almost as much political power as the mighty Cyril does, despite my scandalous behaviour."
"Let's hope so, you'll probably need all of it to keep the idiots in Warfang from trying to mob me and make me pay for my crimes."
"Oh Cynder, many dragons in Warfang know it's not your fault. The anger has gotten cold, there are only a few who will try to rile up the population against you." Imperia looked at Cynder seriously, but with optimism in her eyes. "They all have their reasons, some of them are indeed stupid, but the important thing is that this time they're outnumbered by the ones who've come to terms with what you once were and what you've done for the sake of this world."
"That sounds nice." Cynder agreed. "I've wanted to come back for so long, and if you're right then maybe I'll stay."
Imperia cheered. "Good girl! I'm so proud of you right now."
"Still reserving the right to leave at any time." Cynder said, but she was smiling.
"I respect that. Just please give it your best try to stay, I'll do everything I can to help you, and so will Volteer and Spyro."
"Spyro." Cynder repeated, the single quiet word carrying years of memory and emotion as it always did. "So... how is Spyro?" She asked.
Imperia had always been a bit evasive about answering Cynder's questions on Spyro. All Cynder knew was that he was something of a loner, and that he had continued to excel in magic just like she had. She'd said that Cynder would need to meet him again herself, and every time she said so she'd ask Cynder to consider going back to Warfang.
Now Cynder was finally going, so now she felt she definitely deserved answers.
Imperia smirked, knowing what Cynder was thinking.
"I'll tell you tomorrow morning, ok? You have to spend the night at my place."
Warfang looked foreboding against the dark sky as Cynder and Imperia flew towards it. The city's high walls and large buildings made an unsettling silhouette. The light coloured stone the city was made of was obscured, and only the largest shapes were visible, not the minor details that had been so carefully designed by the moles who had built the city.
In the dark of the storm Warfang looked almost sinister. Thunder cracked, and the sound echoed ominously off the hard stone walls.
Imperia had to identify herself to guards twice on their way into the city, both times to guard dragons patrolling the skies. Cynder thought that the city guards seemed as if they were on edge, something clearly wasn't entirely right in Warfang.
She landed on Imperia's balcony, the two of them were more sombre now and it was too dark to talk much.
Imperia's bed was easily large enough for two, and the pair of dragonesses curled up together in it. However with the storm neither of them slept very well.
The sun had gone down hours ago. The storm had come rolling in fast; the oncoming clouds tinted a deep bloody red by the last light of the day.
Something stood upon one of the rooftops of Warfang, watching the world go by. In form it appeared to be a dragon, but in truth it was something else, something utterly unnatural.
For long hours it waited, night fell; a few late dragons arrived in the city. A momentous event was to happen tomorrow. An event that was of no consequence to the mission, and therefore a distant afterthought.
At last the time came, and the dragon began to walk. Down from the rooftop and through the streets of Warfang a short way. The dragon crossed paths with a few inhabitants of Warfang as it walked, but it's presence went unseen and unremarked.
Soon there was another dragon walking beside it, a dragon who it was meant to meet, a dragon who had come here just for this moment. This moment that had been arranged since years before. The unnatural dragon followed the treacherous one below the ground, into the earth.
The Vaults of Warfang were well protected by magic, the guards were just an afterthought, there more to give a feeling of security then out of any expected need for defence.
The Vaults were open during the day, the guards there to watch and supervise. At night the doors were closed and nobody was allowed in.
It was night, and the doors were open. Two dragons lay still in the corridor. They may have been dead, or merely unconscious, the unnatural dragon did not care.
The treacherous dragon had done the deed, and now they stayed outside the vaults, keeping watch as the guards had previously done.
The treacherous dragon waited for long minutes, before eventually risking a peek into the vault. It was empty; there was no sign of the supernatural presence that had come.
The remaining dragon shivered slightly, feeling chills. This had been an unsettling night. They walked into the vault. Two chests were open, and the contents of one had been removed.
The dragon picked up what had been left in the other chest and put it under their wing, then they walked back out into the night.
The pair of guards woke up several hours later and raised the alarm. The Vault was searched, and two artefacts were reported missing.
The first was a spherical ball of black iron, within which was imprisoned a purple crystal.
The second was a paired set of snake charms, such as might be put around the necks of two dragons...
The traitor took their chosen item, and returned to their home. They did sleep eventually, but they were tormented by nightmares until dawn.
And there it is, at 4,223 words this is almost twice as long as the original chapter.
My writing style has improved, and this chapter doesn't have the same flaws that the other did as far as I know, but does it deserve to replace the classic chapter one? For instance this one could be too long, or too boring.
Please let me know me which of these chapters you think is better. I'd really appreciate comments or private messages if you also have feedback or suggestions.
I'll post the next pair of chapters once the revised version of Chapter Two is finished.
Until then I love you all, and thankyou for reading!
-4Dragons