Part Two

A throbbing ache in his side prompted Spyro to groan and reposition himself on the pile of cushions he was lying on top of. Something rubbed against his scales uncomfortably, irritating him until he could stand it no longer. Growling softly, Spyro opened his eyes to find out what the source of his troubles was, but instead caught his brother's bug-eyed stare.

"Buddy, you're awake!" Sparx cried. "How are you feelin'?"

Spyro opened his mouth to respond, but a wave of pain passed through him. He grimaced.

"I'm gonna take that as a 'not good.'"

The purple dragon's gaze shifted to his flank and found a layer of bandages wrapped around him. "Sparx, what's going on?" he asked weakly. "Why did they rebandage my scar?"

"So now you remember that you have a scar?"

"What are you talking about? How could I ever forget about something like that?"

Sparx shrugged. "You were the one asking about how you had a scar in the first place."

"When did I say that?"

"A few days ago; the same day you started acting all weird and freaking out."

Lost, Spyro said, "I don't remember that."

"You mean you don't remember dragging the Guardians outside Warfang to show them some tree trunk?"

What Sparx said sounded ridiculous. How could he even manage moving a few feet with his injuries? He shook his head. "No, the last thing I remember was lying down in my room so I could heal. And now I'm here…" Spyro looked around, observing his surroundings. It was empty, save for a small table and a vial of red liquid sitting on top of it. "Wherever 'here' is."

"It's some room close to the Guardians and the healers. They wanted you close by just in case you have another meltdown."

"Meltdown?"

"You kept going on about someone named…Silver? Sander?" Sparx paused for a moment to think, but gave up shortly. "Ah, I don't remember. Was never really good with names. I can barely remember the old geezers'!"

Seeing that his brother was unamused by the joke, Sparx continued, "But yeah. You were trying to look for this girl or something, but none of us have ever heard of her."

"Why would I be looking for someone? All I've been doing for the last month is recovering."

"That's what we've all been thinking, but—" Sparx snapped his fingers. "Cynder! That's her name! I remember now!"

Spyro involuntarily shuddered at the sound of the name and a fuzzy picture of a dragoness formed inside his head. A set of six horns stuck out from her head and her tail tip bore a metal blade. He tried to discern more, but the image faded away. An uncomfortable feeling rose in his chest.

"What's wrong, bud?" the dragonfly asked, noticing his brother struggling.

"I-I don't know," Spyro said. He laid his paw over his heart. "It feels like I'm forgetting something important."

"Maybe it's your medicine? The healers said to give it to you if you woke up." The dragonfly flew over to the table and brought over the vial. "They said it's a different recipe this time too. They wanted to lessen the side effects or something. Anyways, drink up!"

The purple drake uncorked the flask and made a face when he caught a whiff of it. "This will make me feel better?" he asked, eyeing it. He shook the bottle around a bit. It didn't even move like a liquid!

"That's what they've been telling me!"

If it would make the pain in his side and the weird feeling in his chest go away, then maybe it was worth a shot. Spyro sighed and reluctantly tipped the glass into his maw. He fought the urge to gag and spit out the concoction, eventually managing to drink all of it. Once he was finished, he stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"That's got to be the worst thing I've ever tasted," he choked out. The pain previously coursing through his body, though, diminished greatly. The relief he received from the medicine seemed to be worth it. He quirked a brow, however, when he noticed the odd sensation he had felt moments prior hadn't disappeared.

"You feelin' better now?" Sparx asked.

"Not really," he answered. "I still feel kinda funny."

"Funny how? Funny as in 'I should get the healers' funny?"

"No, something still feels like it's…missing."

"I bet you're just hungry!" the dragonfly said. "You haven't eaten in a while, so that's probably it."

Now that his brother mentioned it, Spyro did feel a little hungry, but he wasn't sure that was it. Nonetheless, it was a good idea to get something to eat. "Do you think you could grab some food for me?"

"You got it, bro!"

With those last words, Sparx flew off and left the purple dragon to contemplate his situation alone.

Spyro's thoughts centered on the feeling in his chest. He tried guessing at what could be causing it. He suspected that it might be related to what the dragonfly had said earlier about his 'freak out.' He couldn't remember anything at all about that, making it difficult to draw a conclusion. But he realized something else.

He hadn't felt the sensation when he woke up. It had arisen while he had been talking with Sparx. He traced through their conversation in an attempt to pinpoint what might have triggered the feeling in his chest. They had talked about his scar, the event he had no recollection of, and then something about a dragoness.

What was her name again?

He stared at his paws for over a minute in an attempt to recall the name Sparx had said, but he found that couldn't even form the first syllable.

How many syllables did it have? Did it even have more than one?

Spyro's head began to ache from the effort he was exerting and the sensation in his chest strengthened. It seemed that thinking about it only made it worse.

He frowned. He was probably better off forgetting about the whole ordeal in the end. Putting all his energy towards recovering was smarter too. Perhaps, in time, the feeling would go away as well. It was all Spyro could really hope for.

Spyro did his best to sit still and ignore the irritation coming from the base of his neck. The cloak of purple and gold he had been asked to wear miserably chafed against his scales. Had an entire audience not been staring up at him, he would have torn away the fabric resting along his back to give himself some much desired relief.

Maybe that was an exaggeration. He wouldn't exactly rip the thing to shreds considering that the group of moles who had designed it had worked very hard to complete it in time for the banquet. But given the opportunity, he would have stuffed it at the very bottom of one his trunks at least.

He had to admit, though, that it was a rather fine piece of work—some of the very best he had seen. The cloth was a rich purple to match his scales, trimmed with a sleek gold along the edges. The gold extended into swirling, intricate patterns that led up to a diamond-shaped crest in the center. The crest was composed of four symbols—each representing the four basic elements.

It actually suited the drake quite well; he looked good. He had been told as much—a few too many times, he thought—by passersby on the way to the Great Hall where he and the other Guardians were now.

Cyril, Volteer, and Terrador also wore cloaks of similar fashion, ones that complemented the color of their scales and the elements they represented. It had been Sparx's idea, surprisingly, to wear robes instead of the traditional armor pieces they would have donned otherwise. His reasoning had been that the display of armor made them all look like they were preparing for battle instead of promoting the message of peace, unity, and solidarity the Guardians had intended.

This was very crucial in order to convince the newfound colony of dragons now sitting in front of them that coming to and staying in Warfang was the next step for them.

"On the behalf of my fellow Guardians and the purple dragon, thank you all for coming here today," Terrador began, reciting the speech he had prepared for this occasion in a deep, loud voice. "Four years ago, when young Spyro here pulled the world…"

Spyro started to tune out, letting the earth drake's words disappear into the background of his mind. He had heard them several times in the practice sessions he had been required to attend. In those sessions, all that had been needed of him was to wait for his cue to move to a separate table at a different side of the room. Until then, he would have to wait patiently.

He took the time to observe the large group of dragons of varying colors and elements sitting each of the tables provided. Many of them were stoic, focused on the speech. Others had wandering eyes like him. He noticed quite a few females—those close to his age and some several years older—giving him less than innocent looks and even a few males. His cheeks reddened at the attention, but he learned to look away.

"…will be available by the wall to my left if you have any questions or statements you would like to share with him."

Spyro perked up, recognizing his cue, and rose from his spot. A couple hundred eyes traced his movements as he made his way over to his designated table.

"Without further ado, this banquet has officially commenced!"

Dozens of moles carrying different plates of food spilled out from a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room from Spyro. The mouthwatering aromas caused his stomach to growl in anticipation, but unfortunately for the purple drake, eating would have to wait. Almost all at once, a hoard of dragons rose from their seats to meet the savior of the world.

Spyro made a brave face, masking his inner terror from being swarmed. The first one lined up to greet him was a young ice dragoness with faded blue scales.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe I'm actually meeting the purple dragon!" she squealed.

Spyro chuckled nervously and glanced at the horns adorning the top of her head. They were jagged and pointed straight back. His gaze dropped down to her tail tip where a series of spikes poked out from. He frowned, a familiar emptiness rising within him. He hid the smile well enough, judging from how the dragoness continued to shake in delight.

When she started going on about how brave and strong he was, he cleared his throat to cut her off.

"It was nice meeting you too, but I don't think this meeting can last very long." She blinked at him confused and he craned his head to examine the long line behind her. He cringed inwardly at the sheer number of dragons he had yet to meet. "There are quite a few others I would also like to meet as well, so if you don't mind…" he said, directing her away.

The female nodded sadly before walking back to her seat. The next one in line looked to be a fire dragon who was at least twice his age. Again, the purple drake studied the newcomer, noting his curled horns and frilled tail tip. The emptiness in his chest panged once more as the older drake introduced himself.

The exchange lasted just as long as the first, but not everyone was as easily convinced to cut their time with the purple dragon short. On one occasion, Spyro had required the assistance of a pair of moles to remove an uncooperative dragoness. After an hour of this, he decided that he needed a break.

Outside the Great Hall, Spyro inhaled deeply, letting the cool nighttime breeze wash over his scales. Much of the exhaustion he had accumulated from his meetings dissipated, leaving only the strange hollowness from earlier. He sighed and looked out at the city of Warfang.

"It's nice that the dragons we found decided to move here from the Eastern Mountains, but," he said to no one in particular, "it's going to be tiring feeling like this all the time and dealing with…" He grimaced as he thought about the dragoness who had refused to leave.

He took another deep breath and glanced at lights of the Great Hall. "I suppose I should get back and finish meeting with everyone." His stomach growled, reminding him that he had yet to eat. "Or grab a quick bite. Yeah. That sounds good."

Spyro started heading back inside, but paused, however, when he overheard someone talking.

"We're so late!" a voice cried. It sounded feminine. "There might not even be any room for us because you wanted to go sightseeing! We could have explored any other day!"

He shook his head and chuckled softly.

"And you just wanted to meet the purple dragon!" someone else said.

Spyro shuddered at the sound of the second voice and turned to the direction of where the conversation was coming from. The empty feeling in his chest began to intensify. He took a step forward.

"So? What if I do? It's not like we'll be getting another chance to meet him in person! I know that deep down, you want to see him too!"

"We have been best friends since we were hatchlings, Ember, but you don't always know what I'm thinking. While I'm thankful that he saved the world and all, I don't really care to meet him. He's probably some arrogant, stuck up jerk. Someone that young with all that power? I bet he has a hell of an ego."

"You shouldn't make assumptions about other people like that! You never know if they—oh!"

Spyro stared at the pair of dragonesses he had been hearing. One of them, presumably named Ember, was pink with golden horns and belly scales. Her tail spade was shaped much like a heart and she wore a red and gold pendant in the same shape. She stared back at him with two large blue eyes, but the purple drake hardly noticed. His eyes were locked onto the other dragoness.

She bore a set of cerulean orbs, similar to her companion, but the color of her scales were unlike any he had ever seen. They were a sleek silver complemented by the brilliant white of her belly scales. Metal blades stuck out from her wing thumbs and tail tip. Six silvery-white horns poked out of her head and the end of her muzzle tapered off into a beak-like structure.

His breath was caught in his throat and his chest tightened. It felt as if an invisible force was squeezing his heart in an attempt to make it burst.

"I'm so sorry for what my friend said!" Ember said. "She really didn't mean any of it!"

Spyro snapped out of his trance-like state, but kept his eyes on the silver dragoness. "It's fine," he murmured.

In the back of his mind, he tried to recall what they had said, but he couldn't seem to remember. The only thing he could focus on was the flurry of emotions he was feeling. One of them stood out among the others.

"Ha-have we met before?" he asked the pale dragoness.

Her head jerked back as if she was recovering from a daze much like he had. There was a hint of confusion on her features as well. "N-no, we haven't. We just recently came from the Eastern Mountains," she answered. She licked her lips and added, "But I was thinking the same."

Ember, who stood off to the side, looked from Spyro to her friend. It was obvious how enamored the two were with one another and that she wouldn't be getting the meeting that she wanted with the legendary purple dragon. She frowned, disappointed.

"I think I'm going to go inside," the pink dragoness announced. She failed to grab the attention of the other two, however, and turned around with a sigh. "Good luck, Caelynn."

Ember disappeared around the corner, leaving Spyro and Caelynn alone. Their gazes lined up and a hush fell between them once more.

A small droplet of water landed on his paw, prompting him to look up. When he only saw the clear, starry night sky, he realized that he was crying. He wiped away his tears. "Sorry," he said chuckling. "I don't know what came over me. I—"

He cut his words short when he saw tears also lining her face. Caelynn caught on and wiped those away as well. After she finished, they looked at one another then laughed in unison.

"So how have you been enjoying Warfang?" he asked.

"It's nice, but I'm still getting used to how open everything is. It was pretty cramped back at the Mountains."

"Your entire city was underground, wasn't it?"

She nodded and tilted her head upwards. "Never really got to see much of the stars either."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is."

They spent several minutes gazing up at the stars, quietly enjoying one another's company. Spyro wasn't sure what the silver dragoness was thinking, but the faint smile on her lips told him that it was probably something good. As for himself, he felt better than he had ever felt in years. The emptiness that had plagued him for so long was gone and in its place was something that could only be described as wholeness.

In the end, Caelynn broke the silence.

"How many do you think are up there?" she asked.

He took a moment to consider her question. There were a number of answers he could give, but ultimately, only one sounded right.

"One million and two."

And that is part two of two. I'm not too sure on how well I was able to meet the mark for some parts of the story, but I do hope it was enjoyable and that it was clear as to what I was going for. The conclusion is pretty open ended, so there's a lot of places this can go, but I will not be exploring the possibilities in the near future for those who may have been wondering.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!