Tyraidor just stared at Terrador, her eyes looking fit to pop out of her head. 'W-What?' she finally managed to gasp.
'You heard me,' Terrador replied irritably. Then he began to speak very slowly. 'You. Fiyah Gahdian. Comprende?' She just continued staring in shock.
Spyro nudged her. 'Thank him for the offer!' he muttered. He gave her a small nudge with his shoulder.
'I, uh... I... Thank you... very generous... hurkk... meep... your kind offer,' she stammered stupidly, inwardly cursing herself for her foolish tone.
Terrador smiled, the wrinkles of age clearly visible around his muzzle and eyes, despite the rough texture of his scales. 'We shall attempt to coach you ask well as we can from Ignitus's old journals. We hope you will consider our offer.'
Spyro beamed. He had never been so proud. But the smile slipped when he remembered that Cynder wasn't here to share his joy. He congratulated his daughter, then, when everyone had wandered off to deal with Templey stuff, he sidestepped over to Cyril. 'Has Mithura mastered the Ice Fury yet?' he whispered conspiratorially.
Cyril smiled. 'He is close. He will be the next Ice Guardian, I think. You're honoured, you know.' Spyro looked up at him, confused. 'You'll be the only dragon who's ever parented two Guardians from the same clutch of eggs. You must be so proud.'
Spyro smiled regretfully. 'Yes, but...'
Cyril nodded sympathetically. '... but you wish Cynder was here to see it? I know how you feel to miss a loved one, but our situations are slightly different.'
Spyro frowned. 'You know?'
The ancient Ice dragon bowed his head. 'I lost my mate to Malefor,' he sighed. 'She was the light of my life. Her name was Glacier and a more beautiful dragon I had never seen before, and never will again. I just wish I could have said goodbye...'
A single, ice-cold tear trickled down his old, scarred cheek and landed on the tiles under his feet.
Right then, Spyro had a vision. There was a purple-black claw, pulling itself out of a deep crater. A shimmering blue dragon with delicate icicle-shaped horns and cool purple wings shuffled over. She reached in to help the owner of the claw. It gripped her frail-looking leg, making deep indents with its sharp claws. A look of shock passed over her face, and a blue-black began to creep along her beautiful azure blue scales. She gasped and tried to pull away, but the claw was too strong for her, it was pulling her closer, turning her, corrupting her...
When the blackness reached the ends of her horns, she looked up. She pulled her leg up, bringing the owner of the claw with her. As the face loomed up in front of her, she bowed her head in a worshipful fashion. She opened her eyes.
They had turned yellow.
Spyro blinked. He was lying in the Infirmary, and there were hushed voices around him. He blinked, his vision blurring. 'What's going on?' he croaked.
He saw something blue move over beside him. 'Are you all right, my boy?' asked Cyril in a concerned voice. 'You collapsed in the middle of our conversation and you've had a fever for a long while now.'
'How – how long have I been ill?' Spyro whispered hoarsely.
Cyril looked grave. 'It's been two weeks. The fever spiked yesterday, and everyone thought you wouldn't make it...' He swallowed. 'You haven't had a turn like that since you defeated Malefor, have you, lad?'
Spyro shook his head weakly. 'Water,' he whispered.
Cynder strode on through the icy waste, following the faint traces of her daughter's scent. The freezing wind howled in her ears, her paws ached from walking on cold, hard ground and her eyes smarted from the tears of lonliness that consumed her. As each tear fell, it became a tiny icicle, a beautiful crystal which fell behind her, leaving a trail. A trail of misery and anger; at herself, her past, and her daughter.
Lunar quaked at the sound of the voice. It was velvety smooth, but softly dangerous. She stared around wildly, the scales on her back bristling like a hedgehog. 'Who's ... who's there?' she called, her voice sounding thin, childlike, lost in the immense blackness that surrounded her. 'W-where are you?'
A chuckle came from behind her. She spun around, but there was nothing there. 'Over here,' a voice called tauntingly from her left.
The voices continued to taunt her, and she spun left and right, trying to find the owners of them. Finally, her courage broke. 'Leave me alone,' she sobbed. 'Go away, go away, GO AWAY!'
'Oh, stop teasing her, Midnight,' came a voice from in front of her. It sounded irritated. A large, middle-aged storm-grey dragon with kindly grey eyes and white, straight horns came out of the blackness. 'There, there, dear,' he said soothingly. 'I'm Tempest. What's your name?'
Lunar wiped her eyes. 'L-Lunar,' she managed to stammer. 'P-please, sir...'
'Oh no, dear, please call me Tempest. I am the Wind Guardian of thisTemple.' His eyes twinkled at her.
She sighed with relief. 'I – I made it,' she said, not able to believe it. 'I made it.'
Just then, an incredibly handsome silver dragon with violet eyes and soft blue wings swaggered into the light. 'If you want to train here, darlin', you're going to have to pass the tests; four in all.' She recognised his voice, it was the velvety one that had scared her so badly. She began to shiver.
'I don't think we should take an apprentice at this time. Remember what happened to the last one?' barked a harsh-sounding dragon, moving forwards into the visible spectrum. He was a deep acid-green colour, with massively curled horns so large he could hardly hold his head up straight, undersized wings and bogey-green eyes.
'Did we ask for your opinion, Mercury?' hissed Midnight. He turned to Lunar again. 'Don't mind him, lil' lady, he's just bad-tempered 'cause he's having a mid-life crisis.' He looked Mercury up and down, then whispered, 'Well, actually, I think it's an end-of-life crisis, but he just won't admit it.'
'I heard that!' the ancient, fossilised dragon shrieked.
'Oh, go stick your head in an acid pool, you old fogey,' snarled another new voice. This one, Lunar noted with surprise, was a female. She stalked into the pool of light as well, flicking her scarlet tail, narrowing her blood-red eyes at Lunar and baring white, pointed fangs. I think she means it to be a smile, thought Lunar. She was getting dizzy with all these new faces, and her exhaustion and hunger weren't helping either. 'Please...' she began, then staggered, her dizziness overwhelming her. The floor spun before her eyes and then rushed up to meet her. Then there was nothing