AUTHOR'S NOTE: While i was feeling all the emotions going through my brain i started to write. I wrote for two hours straight not knowing exactly what i was writing about. This is the product of two hours in an emotional trance writing things down without rhyme or reason.

A stone castle carved from a cave lurked beside the waterfall. Eyes who weren't looking for it wouldn't have been able to find the castle in billions of years. It had merely a small opening guarded by brush as a means of entrance and millions of rooms inside. Most of he rooms were used as simple barrcaks for the troops of the occupant who lived in the largest room. The occupants room was a beautifully decorated room coated with layers of gold and containing a carpetting of warm wool. The rooms occupant was a dark dragon who's heart was darker than his scales, a dragon who was destined for great things and more or less fullfilled his destiny. A dragon who's name was Malefor, and that same dragon was at the moment waiting inside his room for news of a captured dragon.

Malefor felt a pain in his side ever since the two resistance forces started. One was led by Spyro, but Malefor didn't care too much about it because they haven't benn osing much of a threat. Spyro was a purple dragon and he gave his resistance hope, but that was it. His resistance acted too cautiously, too carefully, and too slowly. By the time Spyros resistance launched any sort of attack he was prepared and put a quite halt to their plans.

The other resistance force was a different story. It did with three members what SPyro couldn't do with hundreds. It actually resisted Malefor. The three dragon resistance force stopped Malefor from taking over countless cities, saved many lives from Malefor's wrath and were serious enough to be considered a threat to Malefor's operations. The resistance force remained stealthy and unidentified by any of Malefor's minions. Even when Malefor thought he had predicted the resistances next move they were able to stop him.

As of yet the only clue that Malefor had as to the identities of this force were a few notes they would send. More than a few of these notes Malefor would receive were signed with three names. Nuclear the dragon, Dragon the dragon and Death the dragon. Malefor didn't know hat to do about this problem, he tried spies, detectives, and even resorted to torturing anyone he suspected might be connected to the resistance. The only lead he found was from a small blue dragonfly he had captured. The dragonfly was named Saps and it claimed to work closely with Death the dragon.

Malefor was intrigued when the apes captured the fly, and tortured it for many hours before it cracked. Malefor was surprised at how much pain the small creature could take. Saps had given Malefor the location of the resistance hideout in exchange for being let go, and Malefor made the blunder of agreeing. He embarrassed himself greatly by leading a raid of fifty of his strongest apes to the small underground cave the dragonfly had told them about. When they got there they found that the underground cave was empty except for a note signed by the resistance telling them that they had moved to a different spot.

A fool Malefor had been to let the dragonfly go free and warn the resistance of what he was about to do. The only good thing that his blunder accomplished was give him extra incentive to stop the resistance. He instituted raids to steal children from occupants in villages and train them to fight. He performed the raids quickly and with almost no planning necessary, so the resistance had no opportunities to stop him. He knew that children taught at a young age to kill were deadlier than those trained to kill when they were older. He also knew that the act would make him unpopular, but he was fine with that. Once you had a position of unpopularity you could do whatever you wanted to and not care.

Either way it made him angry and resentful to know that somewhere on his world there was a force he couldn't stop. A force that threatened his leadership, and a force he couldn't alter in anyway. Despite not meeting any of the three dragons, he hated them.


"Don't cry Ember!!" Spyro shouted to the pink dragoness on the other side of the stone room. The pink dragoness was weeping uncontrollably, and she wouldn't tell the purple dragon why. Mostly because if she told him what was happening he wouldn't give her the emotional strength she needed. He'd most likely scream at her for keeping it from him and that wouldn't be what she needed. If Cynder and the other dragons weren't on a mission for the resistance Ember could have talked to them about the problem and felt better. But since they were all away she had no choice but to bottle it up and cry.

"I'm trying not to." Ember said as monotonelessly as she could, despite the tears and obvious angst. She was a pregnant dragon who had never had sex before in her life. She was terrified of what Spyro, her husband, would have said. He was a man who got violently angry on the smallest of problems, and with the resistance dilemnas on his mind he was likely to explode and do something drastic. Ember feared for her life.

Spyro wasn't always bitter though, and Ember could remember a time when he was kind and gentle. He never over reacted and he never used his claws on her. When they dated he was the kindest and gentlest man she had ever met. She married him because he thought he would treat her right. She was wrong of course, like most decisions she made when she was young.

"Well if you're not gonna stop crying at least keep it down." Spyro said angrily, then he curled up and gave Ember a look of pure scorn. The look told Ember quite clearly that he wanted to sleep and wanted her to shut up. The Spyro she dated wouldn't have been like this. He would have been the opposite. He would have been sensitive to her needs and done something to make her feel better. This Spyro added to the pain. She couldn't blame him, he had a big burden. He was a purple dragon, a dragon who's power was limitless and to whom temptation came easily. Purple dragons devils on the shoulder always had a louder voice than the angel, and perhaps that is why so many of them turned as rotten as they did. It must be murder to have such as strong temptation to do such bad things