Chapter 1-Oh, Death

It was the most silent part of the night when a dragon suddenly appeared out of thin air in the middle of a park in Warfang. Both of the moons were no longer in sight, but it would still be a couple of hours before dawn, which meant that everyone in the city was still deeply asleep save those who had guard duty along the protective wall that encompassed the metropolis. The grass was laden with glassy beads of dew that smeared over the paws and tail of the dragon. He was smallish for his age, though he still carried himself with an air of confidence. His form melded into his surroundings in the dark, courtesy of the dull grey monochrome of his scales.

The park was a public place visited by many a citizen seeking a respite from the demands of the war, but the tiny clearing the young dragon waited in was hemmed in by thick trees and shrubbery. Few even knew of the existence of this secluded hideaway, which was one of the reasons why it was selected as the designated meeting spot. He didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes of his arrival a white dragoness—whose very presence forced the shadows to retreat—appeared before him just as he had.

She was a marvel to look at. She possessed scales that always refracted the light around her body, which produced glistening dots that danced around her as she moved in the day, but which emanated a silvery, wavering nimbus around her at night. Her iridescent wing membranes reminded him of the summers in years past when moles would walk through the park and blow bubbles for the children, their round oily surfaces a swirling mix of every color imaginable. The young dragoness wore a necklace with a palladium chain and a glossy black crystal roughly the size of her paw set into the head.

Once the dragoness appeared the two of them drew closer together and spoke in hushed whispers just in case any cheetahs were out on their early morning jogs. They had surprisingly acute hearing. The dragoness shivered in the brisk, moist air. The other wrapped his tail around hers and leaned in, covering her with a wing. "Are you getting the hang of shifting?"

The dragoness' eyebrows knit together and she nodded once. "It's not so difficult once you understand the idea. I still don't see how you do it so fast, though."

"I've had more practice." The young dragon felt something stir in his mind and felt far away eyes upon him. He sent the consciousness a dismissive thought and the studious gaze was lifted, though he still felt the presence nestled in the deepest synapses of his mind. "Yarrow's keeping an eye on us. He seems to think we're up to something naughty."

The dragoness snorted. "Well, can you blame him?" Her tail tightened around his own. "This would look awfully suspicious if someone just happened upon us."

He smiled and said, "I suppose so." He allowed his smile to fade away slowly before addressing her again. "So, I take it you had the dream again?"

She nodded and took a deep breath. "Woke me up right along with you I suspect." When he didn't say anything she looked up at him. "Wither, what does it mean?"

He shook his head, lost in thought. "I don't know, Renna," he looked at her then, "but we're going to find out."

"It's always the same thing," she said, looking up into the endless sea of stars. "There's darkness all around and I'm all alone, then there's this big drop in front of me. I can't really see it because everything is black, but I can feel it there. And someone keeps telling me to step over the edge. I don't want to, but the voice keeps insisting. The more I resist the more I get this feeling that something is there with me creeping closer, reaching out to me and then. . ." She looked back into Wither's eyes. "Then you come and pull me out of the darkness, away from the edge."

Wither nodded along with her description of the dream. Ever since the day he had rescued half of her from the depths of the Void and placed her soul back inside her body they had shared the same dream from time to time. That was four months ago. It had started off slow in the beginning. They would only have the dream a couple times a week at night and no more than a mild hallucination about every other day, the contents of which neither could remember, but was noted by their masters and friends when they stood silent and still together for an abnormal amount of time. The only reason why they knew it was a hallucination was because they were left with the vague impression that they had had one after the fact.

At first it was a point of mild concern on the part of the elders. However, as the weeks progressed their condition advanced. The time gaps they shared during the day became much more frequent, happening as many as five times a day. Now the dreams came every night and each morning Renna and Wither looked more and more bedraggled with dark circles around their eyes and faces lined with fatigue.

Yarrow, the Grand High Elder and leader of Warfang was at a loss for what to do about the situation. The rest of the elders would cast worried glances at the two of them each day when they thought the younglings weren't looking. Their friends talked with them about the dreams and did their best to make sense of them, but had no better luck than the elders.

The worst reactions were those of their parents. They hovered over the both of them night and day now. Renna had confessed to Wither a couple weeks prior that she had started sleeping with her parents at their insistence so that they could be there to calm her down from her dreams and lull her back to sleep with the help of some herbs.

Wither's parents now took turns placing powerful spells over him at night to try to keep him in a deep sleep and hold the dreams at bay. This had worked at first, but then his elemental power of non-being began to eat away at the enchantments in his sleep and he would wake in the throes of the life-like dreams despite their efforts.

This night was no different. They had woken for what seemed like the hundredth time now, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. It was always the same. So they met in the secret place in the park as they had agreed earlier the previous day. Both had crept from their parents' rooms without waking them and shifted here. Wither by right of his innate abilities; Renna by virtue of the crystal he had given her, which granted her the ability to use many of his powers. It was just a chance to get away, to be together with the only other person who could understand what the other was going through. It was a small comfort, but one they both cherished.

Wither sat down on the wet grass and Renna sat next to him. He stared into the shadows at the edge of the tiny clearing and mulled the dream over yet again. "For me it's a little different. Sometimes you're there, sometimes you're not. But always there's this voice. It keeps telling me to step over the edge as well. I'm there, standing in front of it, and the voice is talking to me. It tells me that I'm special, that I can do anything. Sometimes, in the dream, I do step over the edge, and when I do everything opens up in my head. It's like—suddenly I know everything—like I am everything. Then I wake up, because the feeling is so strong."

It had taken a while for the two of them to begin to remember what their dreams were about. Memories of the events always faded so easily, but after seeing the same images night after night and day after day, they began to leave an imprint that neither of them could forget. It had been a month since they reported their memories of their dreams and visions to Yarrow. He had not seemed surprised by the revelation, but he was troubled, of that they were certain.

Though Yarrow had not gone with them so as to remain connected to the city, Spyro and Cynder, Wither's parents, had gone with him into the Void to investigate the presence of a being that they suspected of lurking within its infinite depths, but nothing revealed itself during their time there. As a result, there were no leads on what to do about Wither and Renna's condition. All they could do was wait and see.

Renna rested her head on his shoulder. "I just want it to stop. I know these dreams are trying to tell us something, but whatever it is, they aren't helping. They need to just stop. They're driving us crazy."

"Maybe that's the point," said Wither.

Renna lifted her head and stared up at Wither. "How do you mean?"

"If you really wanted somebody to do something, whether they wanted to or not, wouldn't you do anything to get them to do it? Wouldn't you make them want to do it if only for some peace? I don't know what this 'edge' is or how we're supposed to step over it, but someone wants us to find it and take that step. I just want to know who that someone is."

They stayed together and watched the stars for a while, simply enjoying each other's company. At some point they must have finally managed to nod off again, because Wither awoke to the sound of buzzing inside his own head. He could feel the hum of all the minds in Warfang waking and readying themselves for another grueling day on the wall. Through the hum sounded the voices of his parents, establishing prominence over the general drone of the masses. "Wither, where are you?" That was his father.

Wither's eyes popped open and for a few dizzying moments he couldn't remember where he was. Then, as his body shifted, he felt something warm press firmly against his belly. An instant later he looked down and saw Renna nestled up against him, her eyes closed and her breathing even. He had a foreleg and a wing draped over her and his tail was still entwined with hers in a tight double helix. In his exhaustion he couldn't remember falling asleep.

"Wither, answer us." That was his mother.

"Sorry, still waking up."

"Wither, where are you? You're supposed to stay with us at night." Wither knew that his father wasn't upset with him for the reason he sounded. The city was safe at night. Malefor's armies never tried anything past sundown, at least not yet. Wither could feel through the mental link Yarrow kept open for everyone that his father was concerned about his rest. His parents wanted to be there for him to put him to sleep when he inevitably woke up.

"I met up with Renna last night. We couldn't sleep. But I guess we both fell asleep after a while. She's here with me, but she's still out." Wither sent his parents a mental image of the park, but left out the clearing. He didn't want anyone to disturb them.

"We'll inform Mesa and Glacianne," said Spyro, referring to Renna's parents. "But in the future it would be best if you didn't leave in the middle of the night. And you certainly shouldn't be sleeping in a secluded place with Renna. It's not decent, son."

Wither felt a flutter in his chest and stared back down at Renna. His face felt hot. "It's not like we're alone. Yarrow kept an eye on us all night."

"It's true," came the voice of the ancient himself as his presence rose out of the valleys of Wither's consciousness. "They merely talked, finding solace together by confiding to one another their worries and other such troublesome thoughts. It did them some good, I think. They slept well these past two hours. I think it would be unwise to allow that rest to go to waste. I shall continue to monitor them. At the very least Renna can get some more sleep. Wither, you ought to try to get more rest as well."

"Sure, Yarrow." Wither was certainly keen on the idea of getting more rest, especially in such good company.

"But Yarrow, he's already awake," said Cynder. "We could use him on the wall."

"And what if Malefor attacks with more of the unsung today? Or perhaps he'll deem today a good time to sick more of those wretched forgotten on us? Where would Renna be then? All alone."

"She has the crystal to protect her," said Spyro.

There was a pause while Wither's parents waited for Yarrow's next volley. Then he said, "Look, I'm just going to be blunt. If Wither moves, it'll wake the poor dragoness."

Wither winced at Yarrow's rather forward answer. There was another pause while his mother and father quietly absorbed this information. Then his father said, "When you are ready, meet me at the northern wall."

The connection cut out promptly and Wither mentally rounded on Yarrow. "Really?"

"Oh, calm yourself. They're not going to be angry with you. I promise. Though I can't guarantee you won't get an embarrassing lecture tonight." Yarrow was clearly amused at Wither's dismay. There was a particular frequency to the telepathic hum in his voice that gave it away.

"Even so," said Wither, "I would appreciate a little more discretion in the future. The only reason I allowed you to watch us last night was so we'd have an alibi, but don't think I enjoyed having an invisible chaperone inside my head."

"Your thought patterns did not allow me any such illusions," said Yarrow, the faint hum of amusement still present in his tone. "But for your sake I'm glad you did not block me out. Otherwise I would not have been able to vouch for the two of you."

"Anyway," Wither said, "I suppose I should get back to sleep now. If I can, that is. I'll talk to you later."

For the next hour Wither lay next to Renna and felt her body press lightly against his own with each breath she took. He was unable to truly go back to sleep, but now that the sun had risen above the wall, the morning air had warmed considerably and the dew on the ground had begun to evaporate. Wither stretched out his wings as he sunned himself and pressed his cheek against the back of Renna's neck.

Not long after an hour had passed since Wither's conversation with his parents, Renna took a stunted, almost startled sounding breath and began to stretch herself out on her side. She stopped once she had reached the limits of her flexibility and cocked her head back to look at Wither in surprise. Then she released the tension in her muscles and flipped onto her back, forcing Wither to scoot back a bit. She stared up at him and gave him the brightest smile he had seen in a long time. "Well. Good morning. And how did you sleep?"

Wither grinned down at the dragoness beneath him and said, "Not quite so well as you. I had to answer the inevitable questions regarding our whereabouts. There was some skepticism surrounding our little rendezvous, but Yarrow stuck up for us, so all's well."

Renna tucked her chin closer to her chest and eyed Wither with hooded eyes. "That's nice, but after waking up next to this," she gently rested a paw on his chest, "I don't really care, come what may."

Wither snorted and nuzzled her forehead before rising to a sitting position. He stretched the stiffness out of his joints and muscles before looking up at the sun. "The battle started about an hour ago. We should probably get going."

"See you on the wall later?"

"Maybe, if things are looking down in the east. Or if I have the free time."

"Until next time then." Renna concentrated for a moment, her eyes forward and her body still. Then she stepped forward and disappeared as she walked.

Wither smirked at the effort it took her to shift and walked forward as well. He appeared next to his father who stood at the outer edge of the wall next to Wind Master Valorie and Fear Master Vivian. They appeared to be discussing the best course of action for dealing with a swarm of floating skeletons. They were about as large as Wither, despite the fact that they were missing their legs, and each of them wielded an equally sizable sword.

As they pressed forward through a torrent of bullets from the mole built autocannons stationed around the wall their emerald eye sockets became larger and more menacing. There were too many for the auto cannons to take out, so Wither lunged up to the top of the bulwark and raised a paw toward them. As he pulled on the energy that kept them alive, they began to fall to the ground, their bones disintegrating into a fine dust as they plummeted to the field below. However, from the moment he began to pull on the energy inside the first one, he quickly realized that the creatures were filled with Amophis, no doubt a gift from their leader.

After a couple dozen of the creatures had been obliterated by his power he began to feel the strain that absorbing too much Amophis at once placed on him. Still, there were easily fifty or more of the original force. The autocannons did their part as well, but the creatures in the back of the formation were well guarded by the ones in front and they were closing in on the wall. When they were a mere forty feet away, Wither forced himself to absorb more of the Amophis keeping the dead warriors alive. He reached his limit once a half dozen more of the skeletal swordsmen fell.

Wither turned to his father and the elders behind him. "I can't hold them off."

"You've done well," his father said. "We'll have to do this the old fashioned way, now."

Wither's eyes widened as he realized that they would be attacked on the wall. He turned to face the wall of advancing troops. They were now twenty feet and closing. There were still a good thirty or so remaining. There would be blood on the wall. Wither looked down over the edge of the wall. "I have to do something. People are going to get hurt if I don't stop them. But I'm not strong enough."

"Nonsense. This is a paltry force barely deserving to even be noticed by one such as you. Promised one, if it is more power you seek, step over the edge. Accept me into your heart and together we shall send them careening into oblivion."

"You mean go Hypoactive."

"In a word. It is your birthright. It is your choice."

"I can't. It is forbidden. Yarrow would punish me severely."

"One cannot discipline another who is beyond their power."

Wither looked up and appraised the floating warriors. They appeared to be moving in slow motion, their progress toward the wall barely noticeable. After a moment's consideration he slapped his tail against the wall and growled. "No, I'll not disobey my master. There must be another way."

"As you say, hallowed one."

Wither was immediately jerked back away from the edge of the wall. He was surprised to find that his father was holding him around the middle, pulling him away from the imminent battle. He was carried with great haste back to the far edge of the parapet away from the fighting. By the time the enemy forces made it past the autocannons there were only thirteen of them left. As soon as they breached the defenses and were over the wall, Master Vivian let out a piercing shriek that encompassed the lot of them. Master Valorie then proceeded to pull back her wings as far as they would go. The tips of her leathery appendages touched briefly before she pushed them forward in one powerful beat. The magic she put into the movement blew the paralyzed creatures back out over the field, where they were promptly mowed down by the autocannons.

It all happened in the span of a few seconds. It wasn't until after the last of the warriors was reduced to tumbling powder that Wither realized that his father was gently shaking him and asking him if he was okay. Wither shook his head and looked at his father. "Sorry. I'm okay."

Spyro clapped a paw down on Wither's shoulder and looked him over, eyes laden with worry. "You drifted off there." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, but I'm fine now. Thank you, for keeping me safe."

"Most important job I'll ever have," said Spyro.

Wither looked back to the edge of the wall and saw that many of the defenders were staring at him. There were the elders stationed along this section of the wall, and Sora and Tera, two of his close friends. But many other dragons, moles, and cheetahs lined the battlements that surrounded Warfang. They all knew of his malady by now, so it was not uncommon for him to receive sympathetic glances now and then after an episode. It was uncomfortable having so many eyes upon him after his moment of weakness, yet it also made Wither feel beloved to know that so many cared for his health.

After saving the lives of everyone in Warfang on multiple occasions he was something of an icon to the citizens and temporary wartime residents of the city. There had even been incidents when moles patrolling the wall would talk with Wither and informed him that his name was well known in Mjölnir, the mole city under Warfang. They claimed that many of their scientists had hypothesized how he was able to control his element and were working on ways of understanding his abilities better. Most such talk sailed over his head. Partly due to the fact that every time he inquired into what they meant, they would become shifty and evasive with their answers. However, since these conversations he had noticed out of the corner of his eye after displays of his magic that moles would be watching him closely. And they always had questions for him.

But the only question on Wither's mind at that moment was why he felt so light headed. He placed a paw to his left temple and rubbed. There was a nauseating sensation pulsating in his stomach with each throb of his head. "Oh, I feel awful."

"You need to eat." His father walked a little ways off to the side where some meat was frozen straight to the top of the wall. Spyro took a deep breath and blew a gentle yet searing flame across the pile of preserved rations. Within minutes the food was thoroughly thawed and dragged before Wither. Spyro set the meal down and nudged it toward his son. "Here. You'll feel better."

Wither consumed the venison which had been frozen for months after the kill. He ate it quickly so as not to linger on the taste, which was so unappealing that even the dragons—who were never a finicky lot when it came to food—were tiring of it. Once he had downed the last of it, Wither looked back up at his father. "So, any other news on what I've missed today?"

Spyro shook his head, his violet scales twinkling with the movement. "No, you came at a critical moment. It's a good thing, too. If you hadn't there would have been trouble."

"Every day is trouble."

"More trouble than usual," said Spyro. He shuffled his paws and looked down at his son. "So, I take it you enjoyed the rest of your night?"

Wither looked toward the outer edge of the wall. "Can we not? At least wait until mom is with us so I can get it all in one go. Besides, I'd like to focus on my work today. I'm going to check in on the south. See how they're doing. Be back later. Call if you need me." Spyro watched wordlessly as Wither walked away and disappeared.

Wither reappeared beside a mole who jumped with a howl at his sudden emergence from thin air. Others in the immediate area jerked to attention, but immediately settled back down when they saw that it was only Wither. The mole removed her hand from her chest and smoothed down the red sash that marked her as the commanding officer of the moles in this quadrant. "Goodness gracious, Wither. You nearly made me mess myself."

"Sorry, Tenacity. You know I have no way of knowing who's close by the other end of my shifting points unless I stop and listen."

With a harrumph, Tenacity looked Wither up and down, examining him as she always did with her oculars, the unique eye wear the moles used to shield their sensitive eyes in the light of day. With a hum she said. "Even so, your jumping about through those invisible portals of yours is most disconcerting for those of us unsuspecting of your impending arrival."

Wither bowed his head and edged away from her as she muttered about never knowing when the next jump scare would be. He scanned the crowd stationed at the southern section of the wall, searching for his elders and friends. However, it was he who was discovered first. He felt something nudge him in the hindquarter and turned to see his friend Elleca looking him up and down with a sly grin.

Elleca was an admittedly gorgeous golden lightning dragon with horns like thunder bolts curving back along her skull. Her wings were pure as the most flawless pearl and her belly boasted a platinum sheen that made her stand out even next to Renna. But her most notable feature was the three silvery whips that extended several inches from the tip of her tail in lieu of the typical spade. When Elleca wished, these strands of organic silver compound could be turned into livewires capable of killing any who came in contact with them. All of these features were intriguing to dragons and moles alike, for she was uniquely put together, but Wither secretly favored the silver birthmark in the shape of a heart which glinted enticingly upon her left hindquarter. He pulled his eyes away from the imperfection in her scales to look her in the eyes. "Late to the party today, aren't we? So, I take it our fearless leader has had his beauty rest?"

Wither gave Elleca a friendly shove and blew in her face, making her recoil slightly, her eyes blinking. "There's no need to ladle needless titles or honorifics like that upon me, Elleca. Just because the Chronicler says I am to lead this age to peace does not make me leader of anything yet."

Elleca stuck out her tongue and gave him a wink. "Save it. No one likes false modesty, Wither. We all know what you can do. You have about as much shove as the elders these days."

Wither shook his head at Elleca's praise and moved on. "Where are the others?"

"Over there." Elleca pointed with a manicured claw to a tight cluster of dragons several yards away from where they stood.

Now that Wither was paying more attention he could hear Volteer's voice over the heads of the crowd regaling them with the story of how the Night Hunt—one of dragon kind's most revelous holidays—was founded. As Wither and Elleca pressed through the crowd they found the fabled story spinner and Lightning Master, Volteer, sitting in the center of the throng. He saw them enter the circle and continued his story as he gestured toward the front row where Vera and Wylee sat.

Wither sat on the smoothed granite next to his friend Vera, a venomous poison dragon and sister to Tera who watched the battle in the north. She possessed scales of a sickly lime color and a tail spade that ended in a wicked scorpion stinger. Though it was recently discovered that the two sisters technically shared the same soul they liked to refer to themselves as individuals. Vera gave Wither an acknowledging nod and turned back to Volteer.

Elleca sat on Wither's other side next to Wylee, the cheetah youngling who had moved to Warfang along with his father, Hunter, and the rest of his village for safety during the war. Wylee leaned forward with his knees drawn up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He was perhaps the most enthralled by Volteer's stories as he loved to soak in as much knowledge as he could. The dragon race had always fascinated him as a cub and now that he was lodging in the dragon capitol of Avalar he seemed resolute in his endeavor to learn as much about dragon culture as he possibly could. However, Wylee was not all brains; he was considered a prodigy in the art of combat as well. His village had seen fit to grant him the title of Upsilon, which meant that he was an exalted genius endowed with unparalleled prowess in martial arts.

When Wylee had come to Warfang he was pitted against Elleca for training purposes and their bout had resulted in a draw. The two had been inseparable ever since, much to Roxy's chagrin who was Elleca's oldest and best friend, but who was now forced to man the wall on the eastern side of the city. Even still, the earth dragon would meet up with Elleca nearly every night after sundown so as to stay in touch, as Elleca informed Wither.

Wither drew his attention to the Lightning Master who was just now wrapping up his tale. Wither didn't mind this too much as he already knew the story about the Night Hunt. The holiday had no set date, as it always took place on the first completely overcast night after six months had passed since the Great Awakening, the last dragon holiday that had taken place. On this night the older generations would set the younglings free out in the woods where they would make their first kills as the supreme predators of Avalar. In short, in was another coming of age ceremony, one of many rites of passage that every dragon had to complete before being recognized as an adult. And it was coming up, too. This was most likely the reason for the telling of the story.

Volteer looked around at all the faces of his audience and made sure to hold Wylee's gaze for an extra few seconds. "Are there any questions?"

Wylee's hand shot into the air immediately. With a hum of amusement Volteer said, "I thought so. Yes, Wylee?"

"If the Night Hunt takes place no sooner than six months after the Great Awakening, then isn't it fast approaching?"

"Why, yes. As a matter of fact it is. The six month waiting period has only just recently expired, so now it is only a matter of waiting until the right night. When the sky is overcast and the moons and the stars are completely blotted out, we are to send our younglings into the surrounding woods to make their first kills."

"But isn't that dangerous with the war going on?"

Volteer bowed his head in thought for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "That has been a matter of some debate. It goes against tradition to put it off, but at the same time we must consider the safety of the younglings. We cannot allow anything to befall them in the total darkness of the Night Hunt just for the sake of tradition. We are an old race and can be set in our ways, but neither are we careless in the face of danger. It would be a tragedy to send them outside the safety of the walls of the city and have them attacked on what is supposed to be a joyous occasion. The elders have yet to reach a definite verdict on the issue at the present moment, but from the way the debate has been going, it looks as though we are leaning toward putting the event off. That is the decision Yarrow seems in favor of."

"A font of wisdom, he is," said Wither, gaining the gathering's attention. "It would be decadent to hold the celebration in wartimes and put the newest generation in such peril."

The corner of Volteer's mouth inched upward and he let out a single, humorless laugh. "Those were Yarrow's words precisely, Wither. It seems you share much in the way of thinking with our Grand High Elder."

Wither allowed a small smile. It was only natural that he would think like Yarrow. The ancient leader of Warfang had practically helped raise him. Wither regarded him as his oldest and closest friend.

"So," Wither looked up as Volteer's voice intruded on his thoughts. "As I understand it, Wither, you were late arriving at the wall today. Yarrow said only that you and Renna needed rest. Mesa and Glacianne have been looking forward to speaking with you, too, I believe. Could it be that this holds some sort of connection with the fact that Renna was also late to join the ranks today?"

Wither's face felt hot as Volteer gave him a grin and connected the dots for everyone in earshot. But just then Wither had other concerns. "Wait. Glacianne and Mesa wish to speak with me?"

Volteer's eyebrows shot up at the question and a low rumble shook his chest. "Oh, yes. Mesa looked a bit withdrawn from what I hear through the telepathic whispers, but Glacianne was very vocal when Renna took her post. Said a lot of interesting things, she did."

Wither's face was burning by now. It wasn't surprising that everyone was talking about it. After several months of fighting Malefor's forces everyone had taken to storytelling, gossip, and other games during moments of inactivity. Wither couldn't blame them, it was just another way to stay positive and keep everyone's minds off the war, but he hated being at the center of the juiciest rumor going around the city.

He glanced sideways and saw Elleca with the biggest grin on her face. "My, aren't we the player? And here I thought you were interested in little old me. What's going on, Wither? Care to elaborate for us?"

Wither made to take a step back, but Elleca shot toward him to prevent him from shifting away. "Oh no, you don't." However, she immediately found herself standing next to Vera. She turned around just in time to see Wither wave and step the other way, disappearing on the spot.

It was typical of Elleca to try and mess with him. She loved to agitate. Wither thought it might be a display of affection toward her friends, but he was still having none of her nonsense right now. After shifting her away from him he shifted to the eastern wall, much to his dismay. For no sooner had he appeared when he heard a voice say, "There you are."

It was shaping up to be an interesting day, indeed. Wither felt and heard the slow, rhythmic quake caused by tremendous footfalls coming toward him. He turned around and saw Glacianne marching toward him with a purpose, her eyes full of fire and her tail flicking sharply with each step. She had her massive husband, Mesa, in tow. As cheetahs and moles alike made a path for the two, Wither started to back up.

"Don't you dare," the ice dragoness snapped, though not as viciously as he had expected. "We've got words for you, Wither."

"Yarrow, help me."

"You're on your own."

Wither looked around and saw his mother and Renna sitting by the inner edge of the battlements some yards away. Cynder was smiling and shaking her head. Renna had hers buried in her paws. It looked as though she had had no more luck than he in escaping embarrassment in front of the whole city. On Wither's other side by the outer edge of the wall his friends Roxy and Psy were giving him approving nods and mock clapping motions while Terrador and Noh watched expressionless as the events unfolded. He looked back to his mother.

Glacianne called to him from where she advanced. "Your mother's not going to come to your rescue. We've already had ourselves a nice long chat this morning."

Wither had two choices. He could shift away or stand his ground. Much as he hated to, he felt the latter would grant him a fair bit more respect. In just a few short seconds he stood in the shadow of Renna's father, scratching little circles on the ground with a claw. He looked up and glanced back and forth between Glacianne and Mesa. Of the two, he was more frightened of Renna's mother. Nevertheless, he greeted them with a deferential bow before raising his head high. "Good morning Glacianne, Mesa. You uh . . . had words for me?"

Glacianne tapped a paw on the ground as she stared down at him with an unsettlingly appraising gaze. Mesa merely pulled his emerald tail spade before his face and looked at Wither through it. "He appears frightened, yet confident."

Glacianne leaned down until she was several inches away from Wither's face. He felt the icy breeze of her breath as she exhaled gently through her nostrils. A chill traveled down his spine. When she spoke it was in a murmur that only he could hear. "Wither, dear. We need to know, what are your intentions with our daughter?"

Wither suppressed the desire to groan out loud. Of course Glacianne would ask him that. It was customary among many ice dragons—especially those descended from a long line of ice dragons—to state their intentions directly to the parents or guardians of the one they were courting. Many of the dragons in Warfang now saw the practice as archaic and left couples to their own devices, but ice dragons tended to be far more proper. They were notorious sticklers for tradition and in extreme cases even looked down on those who did not observe the old customs.

Bearing this in mind, Wither was entirely at a loss for what to say. While his relationship with Renna had always been a bit more than mere friendship, they had never explicitly spoken with one another about their feelings toward one another. Having someone else ask him whether or not he was interested made him feel awkward. He could say that he was interested in courting Renna, but the thought of saying so aloud to her mother and father felt wrong. It felt unnatural, like he was being forced into something strict, stiff, and official. On the other paw, he could tell the truth and say that he didn't know what the future held for the both of them. This, however, seemed like a generally bad move. If he stated that he was unsure of his intentions then it was very likely that Glacianne would see him as a libertine. He was trapped.

Mesa cleared his throat and tapped the ground with a claw. "Your hesitation speaks volumes, my boy. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I have to respect my wife's customs." He then turned to Glacianne and said, "He appears conflicted between telling you one facet of the truth and another."

Wither winced at the revelation. It sounded so much worse when said aloud that way. Glacianne appeared to think so as well. "Do not lie to me, Wither. I take this matter very seriously. My daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me. I'll not have a young dragon going and making her wonderful, lovely promises and then breaking her heart later. Tell me, what are your intentions?"

Wither opened and closed his mouth several times in a vain effort to make any sort of noise at all. When he finally did speak, it was a pathetic squeak that he despised and instantly sought to rectify. "I like Renna. A lot. She's the first friend I've ever had outside the elders. She introduced me to the rest of my friends. She protected me before I learned about my powers. She has trained and fought by my side. I have much to thank her for. I . . . I know she shares my dreams, and that they keep her up at night. So we agreed to meet at night the next time we woke up to them. Just to talk. I just wanted to make her feel better, you know? To let her know that she doesn't have to deal with this alone, because I'm going through it, too. We were going to go back home, but we were so tired I guess we just fell asleep. That's all."

Glacianne looked to Mesa. The immense earth dragon gave a hum of suspicion and narrowed his eyes as he peered at Wither through the emerald looking glass at the end of his tail. Finally, after several seconds of unnerving scrutiny, he smiled and lowered his tail spade. "He speaks the truth."

Glacianne nodded once and gave Wither a pat on the back. "Well, just don't go making a habit out of it. We wouldn't want any nasty rumors going around now, would we?" Glacianne turned and made her way back toward where Renna and Cynder sat, leaving Mesa with Wither.

The earth dragon quickly leaned down and whispered hurriedly to Wither before Glacianne turned around and noticed. "It was true enough, eh? She doesn't need to know you're sweet on our little dragoness just yet now, does she? I remember what it's like to be young. Glacianne would like to pretend we were as proper as she wants Renna to be. Just remember to be good, or I'll find you and step on you."

Wither watched Mesa turn and follow his wife. Rather than saying hello to Renna and his mother and have to endure the prolonged company of Glacianne and Mesa, Wither turned the other way and walked toward his friends and their masters. Roxy jogged toward him and met him halfway. "Wither, congratulations. We never would have thought you'd pull a move like that until at least a few more years. Spending the night alone with Renna? So, how'd it go?"

Roxy had wrapped a wing around Wither as he walked toward Psy and the elders. Wither sat down next to Roxy and looked at Psy. "Is everyone talking about it?"

"Everyone," said Psy with his usual grin.

Terrador's impressive frame rumbled as he cleared his throat. "Pay them no mind, Wither. The citizens are merely bored and have found something with which to amuse themselves. It won't be long before they grow bored with you and move on to talking about something else. Such is the nature of petty gossip."

"But in the meantime," said Noh, "it's pretty exciting news to everyone. Especially to dragons. The son of Spyro and Cynder and the only current light dragon? Why that's a pairing that's sure to produce promising offspring."

Wither blanched at the comment and let out a gasp. "Master Noh! What are you implying?"

Terrador and Noh roared with laughter and slapped each other on the back while Wither's shock turned to fuming embarrassment. He got up and stalked away from the group, ignoring their protests and pleas for his return. Roxy got up and ran in front of him in an attempt to block his path. "Wither, wait. We were only joking." Wither turned transparent and phased through Roxy without so much as breaking his stride. He became opaque again and walked to the other side of the wall where his mother sat talking with Glacianne.

Both mothers turned their attention to Wither and watched as he flopped down and stared between them at Renna. It amazed Wither how much passed between them just through that gaze alone. She appeared to be just as fed up with the gossip as he was. After several seconds of silence Cynder gave Wither a smile of exaggerated innocence. "So, did you learn your lesson?"

"Everyone's being mean to me."

"No. They're just picking on you." Wither remained silent. "Are you going to do it again?"

Wither made an effort not to look at Glacianne and raised his eyebrows as he stared at the stone between his paws. "I didn't mean to do it the first time."

Cynder nodded and dropped the subject. "How's the rest of the wall doing?"

Wither was busy etching a picture of white scratch marks in the granite of him throwing Noh into the Void. After a moment he said, "The north was in trouble for a bit, but I helped them out. The failed assault appeared to demoralize the northern forces from trying anything for a while. The southern enemy forces are so pathetic today Volteer's telling stories to everyone to keep them occupied. And I can see things are rather lax in this sector."

"Says who?" said Cynder.

"Says me. Is anyone even watching the field? I took a quick look around and it appears that the enemy is advancing unobserved."

Mesa rose from where he lay behind Glacianne and turned to scan the outer edge of the wall. "Oi! Master Terrador, anything to report?"

Terrador stopped talking to Roxy long enough to look over the wall. "The giant turtle is still there. I suppose it might be an inch or two closer to the trench than it has been for the past four months, but the grublins still haven't managed to fill in the trench yet."

Mesa lay back down without a word. Cynder looked back at Wither and gave him a nudge. "See? We have things under control. It's been a pretty uneventful day for us so far. Though the day is still young. Not that I'm hoping for too much excitement."

Glacianne placed a paw on Wither's and leaned closer. "Haven't had any incidents yet today have we, dear?"

"Only one."

Cynder frowned and scooted closer to Wither, as did Renna. His mother spoke quietly so as not to attract the attention of anyone close by. "What happened?"

Wither recounted the tale of the attack on the northern wall to them and told of how his father had to pull him away from the battle. Cynder said nothing, but reached forward and pat him on the back several times before rubbing it with a worried expression. "I just wish I knew what was causing it. If we knew the source of the problem, then there might be some way of fixing it."

"What about you?" said Wither as he looked across to Renna. "Anything today?"

She shook her head. "No, but I knew when it happened to you."

That was typical. Ever since their shared condition began, it was clear that it connected them somehow, though not even Yarrow was able to determine the nature of that connection. It seemed as though the problem had no source and no solution. It would just end when it did or persist forever.

They sat and talked for a while about cheerier topics. Wither felt better to get his mind off of his condition and the rumors that had been flying around that morning. However, every now and then the talk would turn back to the never ending battle that awaited them each day and the challenges it presented them with. After the uncomfortable silence that followed one such segment of their conversation Wither was reminded of something.

"Hey, mom. Has Onyx said anything about Alabaster yet? It's been a while since I've heard about him."

Several months ago it was suspected that Alabaster, one of the chief moles in their city, Mjölnir, was infected by a strain of Amophis which Xath, who now went by Pestilence, controlled. Alabaster's brother, Onyx, who was himself a chief among the moles, reported that his brother had displayed unusual behavior prior to and ever since a devastating accident involving one of their most prized projects. Ever since that day, Alabaster had been holed up in his private office, which no one else had access to.

Cynder shook her head silently for a moment before answering his question. "He's still in his office where no one can reach him. He won't even come out to see his own brother. Onyx says that Alabaster claims to be working on an important project, but he says that it's highly unusual for him to remain in his office for longer than a month at a time. He's the head of research and development in some sort of lab where they build things and do experiments from what Onyx told me, so he's supposed to come out and give instructions and input every now and then. Only thing is, he's been giving all of his instructions from inside his office through some sort of device called a video monitor? Oh, I don't know all that mole stuff they always talk about. Anyway, he apparently has access to a personal waste management system and food and water delivery through a kind of tube that goes through the walls, so he doesn't technically need to leave that room. Ugh, I can't imagine spending that long in one little room. It would drive me crazy."

Glacianne looked around to make sure there weren't any moles within earshot before leaning forward and saying, "Those moles have always loved cramped spaces. Why do you think they live underground?"

Wither tuned out the rest of the conversation as it began to revolve around how odd the ways of the moles were. He would have told Glacianne that it was impolite to speak about their longtime allies and friends in such a manner, but he felt that she would take offense to being scolded by a youngling. Plus, as an ice dragon, she was even more likely to not be pleased about someone else telling her what was and wasn't proper.

Instead of contributing to petty gossip he rose and quietly excused himself before shifting back to the northern wall. When he arrived everyone was surrounding the outer edge of the wall. That did not bode well. Wither looked around for his father and quickly found him standing next to the elders and his friends. He padded up to the bulwark and squeezed between Psy and Roxy. "What's up guys?"

Psy pointed to the field and said, "Look."

Wither followed Psy's claw and found that the dead soldiers from Dante's Freezer were collecting torn up pieces of their fallen comrades and placing them in a rather sizable pile between the two moats. The people along the northern wall had seen this behavior before. The undead warriors always gathered the remains of their tattered and scattered to build a composite goliath. It was unsettling for multiple reasons.

"This isn't going to be a fun day, is it?" said Psy. "Hey, at least they're making it out there where we can interrupt them and make things all difficult like for them. They usually make them on the other side of the portal."

The goliaths that the northern army built from time to time were a serious threat. Since they were comprised of the pieces of thousands of fallen soldiers, they were massive, enough to scale the walls of Warfang, which they invariably did. They were the only things besides the golems that occasionally came from the east and Malefor's wretched troops from the Void to manage to breach all of the city's outer defenses. They were also usually built with an excessive amount of appendages, which made them capable of taking on multiple foes at once. It didn't help matters any that they were also unable to feel any pain. Seemingly devastating wounds to the main body primarily went unnoticed unless the damage was extensive enough to cripple the entire being. Decapitation never worked, as there were always various heads woven by horrific magic into the flesh all around its body. The only sure way to neutralize the entity as a threat was to utterly dismember the thing, which always proved difficult due to both the size and the volume of the limbs protruding from the beast at nearly every angle. And even then it was essential to burn the remains so that it wouldn't piece itself back together and begin its assault anew as the first one had when they made the mistake of leaving the remains where they lay.

Not even Wither's dark crystal network was enough to bring the things down, though it was clear that once a goliath was in proximity to the crystals' range they were dramatically weakened. Their movements became staggered and dull, and their blows were not so ruthless once they were atop the wall. It had taken Wither's father, Spyro, whom all regarded as the greatest warrior of dragon kind, to fell the first one.

Wither would always remember the event. The goliath was fifty feet tall and had eight arms to start out. It had swatted the moles and cheetahs aside like mice. Even the dragons along the wall were wary of the beast. It never faltered for a moment on its quest. The entire time it was on its feet, from the moment it left the portal from whence it came out in the fields outside the city, it had clearly made a break straight for Wither. Spyro had sliced off both of the goliath's legs and had systematically done the same to the arms. When it had but one left, it still clawed its way onward toward Wither, dragging its mutilated frame toward him. Spyro finally severed the last limb when it was just several feet from Wither, its massive seven-fingered hand still groping in his direction. Wither shivered and shook off the memory.

Wither looked back and forth between Roxy and Psy. They all shared the same concerned expressions. "We have to do something about this before it goes too far," said Wither.

Roxy thumped his tail spade against the wall and motioned to the cluster of undead soldiers below. "What do you expect us to do about it? They're too far away to deal with from up here and I for one would rather not go down there with all of them."

Psy raised a paw and lowered it again when they looked at him. "I vote that we just leave it to the elders. They appear to be coming up with a plan. Like I said earlier, those soldiers are building the goliath on this side of the portal, which means our side can interrupt the process. This should be easy for them."

To his credit, immediately after Psy had spoken Terrador, Noh, and Spyro, along with a contingent of a dozen other dragons launched themselves off the wall and swooped below toward the warriors. Devastation rippled through the battlefield in their wake. They unleashed a salvo of various elemental blasts as they descended on the unprepared soldiers. Bodies flew through the air and pieces meant to form the goliath were strewn across the battlefield.

A chorus of cheers erupted around the wall as the rest of the forces watched the onslaught. It was an effective counterstrike that had set the enemy back considerably. What little they had gathered for their vile project was now mostly useless. They would essentially have to start all over if they wanted to construct another goliath.

"Well, that was easy," said Roxy with a grin as he leaned against the bulwark and faced his friends.

"Yeah, too easy, really," said Psy.

Just then Wither noticed a shimmering in the air at the other end of the battlefield. It could have been mistaken as the curtain of heat one often notices in the distance, but the citizens of Warfang were all too familiar with that sight. It meant that the portal the enemy army used to transport themselves to Warfang was opening. Wither pointed to the disturbance in the air with a claw. "Look."

Roxy tilted his head to the side in askance. "Reinforcements?"

Wither watched as Psy narrowed his eyes at the portal and inspected the battlefield. "No, it's too soon for that. Plus, they waited until we sent forces out into the field. This seems a little calculated." Then his eyes widened and he and Wither both lurched forward, pressing their paws atop the bulwark and shouting with all their strength.

"It's a trap!"

Over a hundred feet away several of the dragon team looked toward the wall. It was at that moment that a lone figure shot out of the rift at the edge of the field at surprising speed. It was small, whatever it was, and flew directly toward the dragons in the group that were closest to it. One of them noticed the danger and gave a shout just before it reached them. The assailant came in close and breezed on past. Seemingly nothing had transpired between the two, but the one who had given the warning suddenly and inexplicably fell silent in mid yell. It all happened in a second. Just as the being flew past, the dragon fell through the air and crashed into the battlefield below.

All at once, several roars echoed across the wall. More dragons took wing and set themselves after the mysterious attacker. Some of the original party to take the field also gave pursuit. Wither watched as several of them landed below, fighting off the enemy forces while others tended to the fallen dragon. Though it was too far away to tell what was said, an exchange was made and they all took off again, leaving the dragon where they lay. Wither's stomach sank.

He looked up and watched as the dragon, for that's clearly what it was now, circled back and rushed headlong into the throng of its pursuers. The tangle of dragons in the air flowed around the attacker, trying to wreak their vengeance upon them, but when the dragon broke free on the other side of the group, two more dragons fell to the earth. This time the entire party descended to defend their fallen comrades, allowing the reinforcements from the wall to chase after the dragon. Once again, after a quick exchange they all took off again. This time, instead of rushing the attacker, they flew toward the dragons that came from the wall. They were all yelling to them and motioning back toward the wall.

Before the message could be fully taken in, the dragon closed in on another of Warfang's own. This time they were close enough for Wither to take a good look at them. The dragon was covered in black armor. That meant it was one of the four younglings Malefor had made his generals. Wither guessed it was Zar. As he moved in toward his target, he reached out a paw and touched the dragon on the arm. The victim instantly went limp in midair and fell to the earth as the others had before.

Roxy looked over the wall at the downed dragon, dumbstruck by the suddenness of his death. "He's dead," he said, unable to look away from the motionless corpse.

"He's killing them!" screamed Psy with a roar of anguish.

Wither jumped off the wall and soared through the air toward the attacker. Though his wings were too small to be of any use, Wither found that he could use his power to manipulate gravity around him. As a result he was much faster than any other dragon when he wished it. He slammed his entire body into the attacker and they both went tumbling down onto the battlefield. As Wither fell, he could hear more roars of fury, though from which direction they came, he knew not. The voices of Warfang seemed to come from everywhere as he spun through the air, the earth and the sky somersaulting over one another.

All the while he held on tight to the attacker. A glint of blue confirmed his earlier suspicions. It was Zar, the young ice dragon that had betrayed Warfang, his home. Just before the two of them hit the ground, Wither managed to level out and push off of Zar, slamming him into the ground, while Wither floated down safely beside him.

Zar barely had time to scramble to his feet before Wither was upon him. He whipped around and caught Zar in the jaw with his tail spade. Just as Zar's head was coming back around to face his foe, he was immediately punched in the throat. Under the helmet, Wither saw Zar's eyes go wide as he tried and failed to take a breath. That was his chance. Wither rushed forward and grabbed Zar's head with both of his paws. He then reared up on his hind legs and bore down on Zar with all of his strength.

Zar must have been taken aback by the ruthlessness of the assault, because he let out a yell that was quickly muffled when his face met the ground. Wither pulled up on his head, lifting him as high as Zar's jarred body would allow, before pushing back down and dashing his face against the earth again. After Wither bashed Zar's face into the ground a third time, Zar reached up and punched Wither in the stomach. Winded, Wither fell back on his haunches and struggled to regain his breath. However, Zar was in no shape to take advantage of the opening. Blood ran down his forehead where it had been cut open by the lip of his own helmet. It covered his eyes and mingled with the thick crimson spittle which Zar spat out in large globules.

When he had spat out enough of the stuff, Zar looked up and watched as the elders including Spyro circled above. The rest of the dragons had retreated to the wall as per their orders. He then looked down at Wither and inclined his head. "You're a brave one aren't you? After I killed them so easily." He gestured to the pair of dragons that had fallen together several yards away.

Wither could feel himself trembling, but he was not, in fact, afraid. "Your master won't allow you to kill me. You couldn't even if you had the permission. The way you killed them. It wasn't natural. It's the Amophis abilities he gave you, isn't it? Amophis alone can't harm me. But I have no such restrictions." Wither pointed to Zar. "I can do whatever I like with you."

Zar shook his head and said, "That is where you are wrong. Just you wait. You'll get yours. Malefor has plans for you. And until you give in to those plans more will die as a result."

Zar placed a paw against his chest plate and pulled outward. A crackle split the air between them and Zar disappeared through a rift quick as he had come. Wither looked around and saw that the undead warriors had surrounded him during their conversation. Now they came at him. Wither lifted off the ground and soared back to the wall, unwilling to face that many of the undead army.

Wither alighted on the wall next to his friends. Roxy gave him a nod of approval and a firm pat on the back. Psy walked up to him. His eyes were red and there were tear streaks down his face. His face was contorted into a savage snarl that forced him to nearly spit his words out at Wither. "Did you make him choke on his teeth?"

"Nearly."

"Good enough for now, I suppose. It'll have to be."

Wither heard the beat of wings and turned to watch his father and the other elders land on the wall. Spyro marched toward Wither and grabbed him by the arm, jerking him up closer to his level. "What were you thinking?"

Wither looked back into his father's eyes and said, "That you don't take life in Warfang and walk away unscathed."

"You could have been killed!"

"They won't kill me. They're not allowed to."

Spyro jerked upward again, twisting Wither's arm. "What if they had taken you away?"

Wither turned transparent and he pulled his arm through his father's grasp. He sat back on his haunches and looked up at him. "Someone had to stand up to him. And I'm the only one he couldn't kill. I did the right thing, and in the end, no matter your own personal sentiments, that's all that matters."

Spyro looked into his eyes for several long silent seconds. Then his gaze softened and he closed his eyes. "As you say."

He turned away and walked back toward the edge of the wall and watched as Terrador and Noh organized several dragons to go and retrieve the dead. Wither stood beside him and watched as the undead were fended off once again so that the bodies could be safely returned. They were the first of the allied forces of Warfang to die in the war. After four months of solid defensive strategy, Warfang had felt the bitter sting of first blood.

Without looking away, Wither said to his father, "Zar will pay for what he's done. I promise."

"That, he will," said Spyro, nodding his head in agreement. "That, he will."

The keening of friends and family of the fallen could be heard around the wall.