Categories > Games > Spyro the Dragon > Behind the Screen

Behind the Screen

by IWCT 3 reviews

What really happened to those dragons in the Fireworks Factory? Remember how bloody annoying it was to beat them? Well, stop patting yourself on the back, since they have feelings, too.

Category: Spyro the Dragon - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst - Characters: Spyro - Published: 2005-12-28 - Updated: 2005-12-28 - 1165 words - Complete

Behind the Screen

Disclaimer: I do not own the plot, or characters of Spyro 3: Year of the Dragon. I am merely borrowing the characters of Spyro, Handel, and in the case of the two fire dragons in the side quest in the Fireworks Factory I am giveing them personalities.

Anyway, without further ado, let the one shot begin.


The music was playing in the background. It was a high lilting music, with a steady rhythm, and infectious beat that stayed true in my head. It had been in the back of my mind all my life. Now it would be the sound that I heard as my head lay dieing next to that of my mate?s. Her crimson head had already lost the magic that kept her sustained. Her crystal eyes had clouded over to become milky white. Her mouth exhaled no more flaming balls, she could no more roar her emotions to the eternal night sky, and her lovely serpentine body had been burned entirely away.

Only half an hour ago we had both been alive and vibrant, perfect examples of fire dragons in our primes. We had been locked away into this side dimension for eons, but we were happy. There was the lava flowing around the little islands to warm us, and refuel our magic.

Then the human rat came. It was a small male, dressed in a white cloth of some kind, tied with a belt of black. It took me a while to remember what the individual objects were, and what he was. We are ancient. We were ancient when the self-styled Sorceress argued with the next step in our evolution as a race, the so-called wise dragons. I could barely remember humans, and Cinnabar, my wonderful, beautiful mate, had absolutely no recollection of them. I must say that the male was certainly a lot smaller than I remembered them being.

The rat watched us, occasionally twisting his foot on the ground. He stood by the sacred flame. It granted a fire that was hotter and more burning than ours. We were not certain that we approved of this invasion on our territory.

Fate had decreed that only our descendants could use this flame, not us. We were no longer the young things we used to be, children filled with the fire of the sun, and given the agility of the air we breathed. If we tried to use this flame it would consume us.

The human rat watched us with large limpid eyes. I should have known that only a human can conceive a plan so evil behind a gaze so innocent. He was planning our murder. The weapon? Our sacred flame, which he had no understanding of.

How overjoyed we were when the tiny purple beast came through the swirling tars of the portal behind the sacred flame. He was a dragon. At last, one of our own! He could tell us the news. He would know how our kindred were fairing.
We flowed through the air, sinuous children of the wind to bathe him in the fires of welcome. But a mysterious speck of gold got in the way of the flame. It turned blue, not ashy black, something which confused me. Then I began to understand what the human was saying.

I pulled away in horror. Cinnabar looked at me, confused. Had we not longed for another child, another person? First the rhynoc had been foolish enough to wander in here with that darling egg, which we were letting bake in the lava, to hatch it like a phoenix from the ashes. Now another one of our kind had come to us in our exile. Was this not a cause for celebration?

I should have warned her, some how. Through the magic that we share my thoughts could have become hers, and Cinnabar would not have taken the first blow from the sacred flame.

She screamed, her serpentine form undulating.

He means to kill us! Run! I cried through the magic, moving to block her from the insect like dragon. He swerved around me, his course already set on my mate. His wings were ridiculously small, and only magic supported them.

The sacred fire blasted towards Cinnabar. His aim was off, but every time he hit her a chunk of her scarlet length fell away.

I tried to protect her as I could. I would twine my body around her ever shortening one until she could regrow the missing pieces. I would blast my fire at him. I would rush the little monster in a charge that would disorient him long enough for Cinnabar to hide of a brief while.

The music pounded in my ears. My fear and rage were getting the better of me. As I circled through a tunnel, trying to tell Cinnabar to lie low there for a minute, I could have sworn I hear a clicking sound like that of a button accompanying every blast that trecherous scum made.

As his little game continued with my mate I swear I was going mad. I hit him again and agian with my flame, Cinnabar with hers. Sometimes he would even be driven to the ground, where he would blow a few fire balls around until that strange dust particle that wove about him and protected him from our shots appeared again. He was seemingly immortal, how had that happened?

I screamed with anger internally as the sacred fire proved too much for my darling?s hide, which fell away like ash. Every writhe and darting turn she made brought hope rushing to my head, even as I heard more voices on the edge of hearing. They were yelling incomprehensibe things.

"Mary, don't break the controller!"

"Yeah, let me have a go."

"No, I've almost got it!"

The voices got louder everytime Cinnabar evaded the menace long enough to grow back to a decent length. Yet it was all in vain. She had fought, run and healed herself, but in the end she had accomplished nothing except for the prolongment, if that is even a word, of her agony.

Her death bellow ripped at my heart, and I felt that there was nothing left. The one who had been with me since the world was formed was gone. One half of the whole was missing, and the least I could do was follow her.

I fought back, of course. I am a dragon, I must fight. It is against my nature not to. However, my head fell finally, the magic quickly leaving me. I now gaze upwards, unseeing, but imagining the smirk on the human?s face as he tells my grandson removed to the millionth power that he did a good job, and the human pulled the egg from the lava. Our egg. The egg that Cinnabar wanted to hatch so much.

I wanted her to see it hatch.

I want her to be here.

I want her.

I want

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