Author's Note: Neither Spyro nor Cynder belongs to me, they belong to Activision yes? (:

Pardon me if you find that I have taken liberties or changed the characters' personalities somewhat. This is my first time on Fanfiction, and I wanted to experiment to see if I could give these two main characters a different ending together, instead of the classic happily forever after. So yup! Constructive criticism is welcomed, but no flaming! And if you don't like this, then don't read it!

Having said all this, enjoy! (:

Final Farewell

Spyro was silent, even as he felt Cynder's gentle gaze on him. He was restless, literally bored out of his mind. All he wanted was out from this cave, so that he could fly, hard and fast, and be back home as soon as possible. But shelter was shelter, and the rain which had started mid-morning did not seem to show any intentions of letting up soon. He held his breath, counted to three silently, and turned around abruptly.

The black dragoness jumped, as her companion turned so suddenly to fix her with his sharp amethyst gaze. She had seen so many different emotions in those eyes before, curiosity accompanied with wide-eyed innocence, flashes of anger and fire, calm acceptance. She had not even realised that she had been staring at him for such an extended period of time, until he had turned to face her, amusement glinting in those purple depths.

The purple dragon picked himself up from where he had lain himself, and slowly made his way over to her side. She lowered her eyes and ducked her head in that characteristic shy way which made him certain that had it not been for her black scales, spots of red which already be dancing across her cheeks.

"You wanted to speak to me?" He smiled good-naturedly, squelching down the sudden burst of laughter which threatened to burst through his façade. He almost felt sorry to be teasing her like this, but he was in sore need of entertainment, indeed, any form of such would do, or he feared he would go mad. He had spent most of his life on his feet, alert and ready at a moment's notice for either fight or flight; it felt distinctly uncomfortable for him to be lazing around like this, with nothing on his to-do list. To top it all off, rainy days were not exactly his favourite, either.

Cynder blushed harder, as he settled down next to her, and kept his head turned to her. The expression on his face was one of expectance, rapt attention, as though he was expecting her to say something. He was all geared up to play the part of an attentive listener. Her mind drew a blank. She did not know what to say.

The purple dragon understood her dilemma. He grinned, "Let's play a game. The two of us shall take turns to ask a question each. All answers must be true, or cross your heart and hope to die." Cynder was silent, as she contemplated this suggestion. Why not? She had nothing to do anyway. "Fine," she agreed.

She watched him almost nervously. She hoped it would not be anything too difficult for her to answer.

"Why were you staring at me?" He turned to her, a light smile teasing his fine features. Cynder blushed. So he had seen her staring, even though she had turned away as quickly as she could, her heart hammering in her chest. She struggled to steel her nerves, "Well…"

"Yes?" The purple dragon was curious; Cynder had never really struck him as the ogling type. But then, she had not exactly been ogling, just staring… Even though he was not sure just how much of a difference that makes.

"I hadn't been staring on purpose," that shy ducking of her head which indicated that she must be blushing again, "I didn't even realise what I was doing until you caught me in the act."

She risked a peek at his expression. The purple dragon almost looked thoughtful. "That's all?" he tilted his head questioningly.

She hesitated. Then, "Yeah, that's all there is to it." Followed by, "Hey, you said a question. That's two!"

The purple dragon chuckled, "All's fair in love, war and interrogation."

Cynder could not help but smile back. The truth was, she had not been entirely truthful. She had been staring, at least, until she zoned out. Which she did not do often, period. That was the power of rainy days, per se.

"My turn then," she smiled. Spyro nodded his consent, "Aye."

The male dragon could not help but stare at her as she went through her thought processes. He loved the adorable way she would sometimes scrunch up her face when she could not think of an answer, the way she would curl and uncurl her tail repeatedly, like a cat deciding whether to bite.

"When you were pulling the world back together," she paused, as though considering how best to continue, "Did you hear anything?"

He was silent for a while. "Oh, that I did," he said sweetly, "I heard lots of things."

He saw the anxiety on her face morph into surprise, "Lots of things?"

"Yup," he smiled, "I heard the thunder as the land masses moved together, the swish of wind, a cacophony of voices. Very loud, they were. Pretty much drowned out anything softer. Why, was there anything you expected me to hear?"

He watched as the surprise on her face gave way to defeat and disappointment. It hurt him to see her so forlorn. All he could do was wince, "Cynder?"

She snapped to attention, "What? Oh. Is it my turn now?"

They spent the rest of the day exchanging questions, but somehow, along the way, the spirit had leaked out of the atmosphere, trapping them in this soundless bubble where the only sound they could hear was their own breathing.

The former Terror of the Skies could not sleep, even though she was sure that it was late. The downpour had ended only just before evening, and all that remaining time before night fell, they spent it hunting for food. No more questions had been exchanged, and she was glad for the respite. The thing was, Cynder had not known whether she could carry on either. She had mustered up all her courage to tell him those three words that truly mattered, but he had not heard. He had not.

She did not think she could do it again. Spyro was saviour of the world, and despite his tender age, he had managed to balance the weight of such hefty responsibility on his inexperienced shoulders. Not a mean feat it was, and she knew that he would get the attention and rewards he duly deserved when they arrived back at Warfang.

Warfang… It would have been her home had fate dictated otherwise. If not for Malefor, she and her companion both would be at the academy now, reciting history in Volteer's classes, learning basic battle moves from Terrador… But this was not to be. Instead, fate had led them both on paths so twisted, so different, which she had no doubt, led to different destinies entirely. Their parting was inevitable.

He was a hero. But she was only his companion, the former Terror of the Skies, who had caused many of the obstacles which had blocked his way like boulders on a narrow path. If not for her, his job would not have been as hard, and that was the main point, was it not? Even if the dragons back at Warfang accepted her, which she knew was highly unlikely, they would never be able to erase all their doubts about her. They would never be able to accept her as their own, without looking at her face and her paws and remembering the blood she had spilled, how easily she could kill them all in cold blood. She would know, would she not? So many times she had stared her own reflection down in a pool of water and pondered the same thing.

Warfang was his home. Not hers. Not now, not after everything she's done. She turned to face the purple dragon, who was sound asleep beside her, his breathing even and slowed, his chest slowly rising and falling. Her heart ached at what she had to do next, but she knew it was necessary. They had made good speed the past few days, and she knew instinctively, that they would reach Warfang by afternoon next day, or at most, at night. She had waited for as long as she could, to try and find a way to either dispel, or confirm her worst fears. But now it seems, the latter had been realised.

Gently, she stood up on all four paws, and turned so that she could face him. "I know what your biggest regret is," she said softly, "It's Ignitus, isn't it. You wish you could have saved him too, just as you saved our fracturing world and everyone else, don't you?" She shook her head softly, "But it isn't your fault, Spyro. No one is perfect. Everyone errs sometimes. That's life. It was Ignitus' time to leave. He would not have wished to see you so heartbroken over his absence." She paused. Then slowly, she lowered her voice to a mere whisper, so soft that she appeared to be speaking more to herself than to her sleeping friend, "My biggest regret was that I had not spoken up that day, at the centre of the earth. This is a truth I choose to offer you, so that you would understand what I have to do next. I can't go back with you, Spyro. Without you, I'm nothing. But you don't need me the way I need you."

She knew it in her heart for this to be true. Every word she spoke struck a chord within her, tugged on a heartstring to offer a resonating note, an echo so pure and true. She leaned down, and landed a gentle kiss on his snout. Just a light touch, the slightest brush of her lips. He did not even stir. He must still be tired from having to pull everything back together. She stroked his face lovingly with a paw. "So this ends here, and now," she whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I will not be the anchor that weighs you down. I refuse to be. I owe you that much…"

Her vision painfully blurred, she turned and walked out of the caves. She hated to leave him like this, but he would understand, she was sure. He would.

She did not look back, even as she spread her wings such that her dark scales reflected the moonlight like a polished mirror, even as she took flight.

By the time he wakes up the next morning, she would already be far, far away. She would make sure of that.