The Burdens of Spyro

Here it is. The last one. Please enjoy and review. If you don't enjoy it, plese still review and tell me that.

I am called a hero. I am revered as the savior, and put onto a pedestal of god-like height. I can do no wrong and my every whim is taken care of immediately. I am the life-blood of our race, an almighty, unstoppable conqueror. I put on my loving, joyous facade everywhere I go, and everyone is genuinely glad to be in my presence. However, their praising and love only drives me further down the path of hate and depression.

No one really cares about me, they may be grateful but what have they ever done to help me? Nothing. All who have ever helped me in anything are dead, and I the cause of it. Volteer to old age and disease. Terrador to a...fall...I don't understand how he could have just fallen.... Ignitus to the fire. Cyril...to my own comfort.

What option did I have but to end his suffering? He was hallucinating and I panicked...that and there was...something else.... Some sort of connection as he neared death. It was as though I could feel his pain pulsating through me. I'd do anything to never go through that again, especially that moment when he died.

It's not like I could tell someone and get this off my shoulders. What would they think of me then? That murder isn't who I am. It's not who I want to be. For more than twenty years I've done all I can to live up to expectations. Putting my problems behind others, and hiding my faults in the recesses of my mind, only to be brought out when I am alone. Not only would they see me as imperfect, but I might be imprisoned despite my past heroism.

Cynder is too busy trying to get her own past erased for me to put my own burdens upon her. I wonder if she even notices; she's always busy trying to both stay away from everyone who has reason to hate her, and make a name for herself. Maybe...I should help her with that. Fade into the background and let everyone continue their lives without my presence. Become nobody.

I am a hero, I did save our race from destruction by Malefor. Yet I am more. I sicken myself because... I crave that feeling. At the beginning I deeply hated it, ashamed of what I'd done and pumped full of adrenaline. Then...after a few days when I had gotten past my grief I began running through the whole trip in my head, searching for what happened to make that connection, and I found it. Blood. In finding it, I also had to remember the shadow, the one that hollowed out my being and that which I now crave... but how can one crave death's touch, and how can I feel it again without falling prey to it's hands?

I must remove this great weight from my shoulders, but I cannot do so without fading into the shadows. Therefore this is what I must do. I can continue plying my talent for script, and wait for an opportunity to come along.