Absent

Ignitus

Time has no meaning here or if it does, Ignitus doesn't feel it. It's just as well really. Because while the previous Chronicler was very well organized, he tended to group books chronologically rather than by subject. And while the war against Malefor left little time for the simple pleasures of reading a book, that did not mean that Ignitus found no time whatsoever. So now, as the new Chronicler, he's going to organize the Books of Time by subject rather than simply time itself.

It's a daunting task and Ignitus starts to let sleep get the better of him. But there's at least one saving grace that one dragon's name that hasn't been added to these books and whose history he won't have to write in memoriam.

Taking comfort in such knowledge, he falls asleep smiling.

Terrador

Warfang is different...sort of. For the most level-headed and militant of the Guardians, it's difficult for a dragon of earth to get used to. Malefor dictated that all life either adapt to the trials he made or perish. And while Terrador had little trouble adjusting to this new state of existence, lapsing out of it has proved harder than he liked.

Times are changing and although they're changing for the better, Terrador can't take comfort in that fact. Too often he stands on the walls and awaits glimpses of an army. Too often he relieves a younger dragon of his posting for "negligence," only remembering later that there's not really anything to be vigilant about. He's even begun to distance himself from Volteer and Cyril, not wanting to abuse his few living friends.

Sighing, Terrador takes to the skies. He wishes Spyro was here. He was the glue that kept them together. And even though he's dead, he can't help but wonder if the purple dragon got the better deal.

Volteer

Volteer likes dreaming. It gives him good material for his stories, not to mention that in his dreams, people actually listen to him. Still, he has to admit, the waking world certainly has a charm to it. Dragons have more free time on their hands right now, even if much effort is still required to rebuild their shattered world. And with Volteer is no exception, he still takes pride in telling stories. Or rather writing them. After all, passing down fact and fiction through word of mouth is a pleasant pastime but if one wants these words, these feelings to last forever, one should put quill to parchment.

It's with this in mind that Volteer resolves to put his stories to paper. And after brief, not so erratic thought, he decides what his first book should be. Or rather books, as it's a trilogy...

...The Legend of Spyro

Cyril

Looking over Warfang, Cyril allows himself to smile. Perched on its highest peak, he can take comfort that no-one will witness such a thing and find evidence that sometimes the ice dragon isn't so frosty after all. Still, it quickly fades. He has to face the facts, especially since no-one else seems to come to terms with them. Among them are the facts that Ignitus is dead and while Spyro seemed to ensure the dragon didn't die in vain, that didn't stop the purple dragon from falling into oblivion as well.

In regards to those two deaths...well, Ignitus is the most pressing issue on Cyril's mind. There's a real threat of a power vacuum developing with Malefor gone and while Cyril knows he's perfectly qualified to lead, others may not be so reciprocal to that idea. Rebuilding a world is one thing, but actually taking that world in a new direction is another. Frowning, Cyril realizes how tough times will be...

...and, for some reason, why Spyro's death is starting to impact him as much as that of the fire dragon.

Sparx

Sparx has changed. Changed in that he's come to realize how lucky he is to be alive and that running from trouble, while a good method to preserve that life, won't make one feel worthy of living it. And while he couldn't have passed through the wall of fire with Spyro, he can't help but feel that he was running from trouble there as well.

Sparx doesn't believe in fate. He doesn't believe that it was destiny for him to lose his closest friend so that the world could be saved and why the foxy bitch in black got to be the one to (presumably) share his last moments. Still, he has to admit, the thought of a dragon saving the world has a far more romantic touch than that of a mere dragonfly. Still, he can't help but wonder if the wrong person died.

Certainly, if he could, Sparx would have changed places in an instant.