Hello, all!

Before I post my first story, I just want to make a few things clear.

-This story is rated M simply because I plan on taking it in an M-rated direction. These themes will probably not occur for a while, as I like to have a nice, long story progression.

-I have an odd writing style. I can only hope that you can get past my strange sentence structure and vocabulary and see the underlying themes in the story. Chapter length should generally be short, but that also allows for frequent updates.

-I want to help resolve the conflict between Scarlett-Husky and TheLastGreatRocker15. I will concede that TLGR15's writings are...odd, to say the least, but I feel that you two can co-exist in this community without stealing plots and/or flaming each other. Please, you guys, I've just joined this community, and I don't want to see it divide and fall.

-I'm open to any criticism. Please, help me become a better author!

Thanks,

Logician Magician.

Day broke. The first traces of morning sunlight slipped in through the small window, illuminating the foot of the old, wooden bed. Slowly, more warm rays of light crept up the bed, illuminating scales. The scales of a dragon. The scales of the legendary purple dragon, which only appeared once every ten generations, and was destined to leave its mark on the world for ages to come. The scales of Spyro, the legendary purple dragon, who had defeated Malefor and halted the destruction of the world. Yes, those scales.

The light revealed that Spyro was sleeping, sprawled out on the bed in a deep slumber, which he had been in for the past few days. He was more tired than he had ever been in his entire life. He had expended nearly the last of his power in his final battle against Malefor, the Dark Master. If that wasn't enough to completely drain him, he also had to hold the entire world together from the inside, saving its inhabitants from their near-certain doom. Finally, he had to fly his way to the surface of the world he had saved, traveling through the mouth of the erupting Mountain of Malefor. He had collapsed outside the gates of what was left of the Dragon City, where the three remaining Dragon Guardians carried his unconscious form to a lodge where he could rest after saving the world.

However, on the other side of the lodge, another dragon slept also. Her scales, however, were black. These were the scales of Cynder, the black dragoness who was once Malefor's most loyal servant. However, during Spyro's final battle against her, he had freed her from the Dark Master's influence, and she soon became his ally. She was with Spyro as he pulled the world together, and fought along side him in their last battle on their enemy, and her former master. Spyro had carried her unconscious body to the gates of the Dragon City, as she too has lost nearly all of her strength in that last battle.

Back in Spyro's room, an eye slowly opened, followed by another. He was awake. He could see the sun shining over the remnants of the Mountain of Malefor, and over the towers and ruins of Warfang, the Dragon City. If he had enough energy to gasp, he would have. He was shocked to still be alive. He scarcely remembered flying out of the center of the earth; it was as if the spirits of the Ancestors had carried him. He envisioned what he thought were to be the final seconds of his life, the entire scene replaying in his mind. It seemed impossible that he would live through all of that! Truly, he must have been destined to live.

But, as he replayed the scene, he recalled something else. Moments before he had pulled the fragments of the earth together, three words had escaped Cynder's lips. "I love you." These words filled his head. All he could hear were those three, final words, "I love you." "I love you." "I love you."

Love? It had seemed his destiny was simply to defeat Malefor and save the Dragon Realms. Never, once, had love entered his mind. He had never had the time for love. He had never been taught about love, only to fight. This, perhaps, was why he assumed his destiny was simply to fight and die. But now, with nothing left to fight, perhaps love was his destiny. Perhaps this was his new fate, his newest challenge, one unlike any other he had faced before.

But, he wondered, what is love? What is the point of it? The result? The significance? He had never been taught any of these things! What would he possibly know about love? What could he offer Cynder? The thought of Cynder entered his mind once more. Did he love her too? Well, he had certainly felt something for her which he had never felt for anyone or anything else. It seemed as though she treated him as an equal, not as some creature of legend. She seemed to ignore the fact that he was different, that he was significant, and liked him for who he was. Perhaps that was love.

In that case, he thought, I must love Cynder too. He seemed to be one of the only ones who ignored her evil past, and forgave her for the deeds she had committed under the influence of the Dark Master. He cared for her, chasing after her when she ran from the Dragon Temple, and always worrying about her well-being. He treated her as an equal, and as a friend. Was that what love meant?

Yes. Yes, that must be love. He did love her. Did she know that he did? He had never told her, but surely she must have seen how much he cared! But what if she didn't?

"Well," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I must go tell Cynder." He struggled to move his legs to get out of bed, but it felt as though a great weight was pressing down on every inch of his body. He couldn't move at all. Disappointed, he closed his eyes, whispering, "I have to go tell her I love her…"

Short, yes, but it puts me at a place where I can take the story where I want to. Expect updates every two or three days, at least for the rest of the summer. Thanks for reading!