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Chapter Text

The Orc's suit of scrap metal, every piece gathered from the greatest warriors of the Shockspire Tower, creaked and clanked with his heavy footsteps. Even repeatedly reheated, beaten, and bent into place, the high-quality metal moved smoothly with his joints and made a fraction of the noise his warband's scrap armor did. The Warboss was followed by the blindly loyal yet mighty soldiers, each clad in the treasures of raids well-fought. Many didn't come back alive, many were weak, but not these ones. They'd followed him out of the Outlands and straight through the greatest bastion against the dark's terror.

Blades hammered not in the fires of a forge, but through countless hours of their own sweat and rawest muscle being put through their biggest hammers; loot of good enemies similarly refitted to be their unyielding suits; shields built from multiple of their deceased foes. Thus far, the only thing that had so much as slowed their advance through the lushest green and glimmering water of Skylands had been narrow bridges with low weight thresholds.

He lightly nudged aside a sheep. Just because he could turn it to mush beneath his foot in a second didn't mean a common prey animal was worth his time. Not a worthy opponent, put simply. His subordienates weren't so indifferent, many of the greenskins went out of their way to indulge their squadmates' nonsense. He even spied an officer competing with his unit to see who could kick the balls of wool the furthest through a rear-view mirror mounted to his armor's collar.

The gray steel suit was covered in scratches and scuffs and dents, all well-earned by every individual part's original owner. He claimed every portion through combat and tempered them in blood; every square-shaped sheet molded around his arms, every former shield beaten together until they were a blocky chestpiece, every oversized and heavily mechanized glove and boot he gutted and molded to his digits, the big shoulder pads embroidered with the mark of the Tech Element that barely fit over his joints, the static spear that was more of a battle mace to him than the proud weapon of mighty guards of the tower, all of them were earned.

His backpack, bearing the weighty electrical parts for the better guards' electrical shields, hummed with energy as he adjusted the mirrors on his collar. The Orc could allow his warriors a moment of peace, he supposed, they were finally upon their target.

Anyone casually walking through these woods probably would've missed it, the silent change in the scenery and feel of the brush and rocks. If it hadn't been marked and partially blocked off then nobody would know its significance. Some very infamous and dreaded warriors had wandered this deceptively innocent stretch of foresty, never to return, be they horrid Warbosses like him or forgotten Skylanders hoping to solve the mystery and make their names known. All that was known was that Master Eon himself had brought a small team to scout the area and almost instantly labelled it far too dangerous to be entered.

That coward didn't even enter, he heard, just put some generic wards and ordered the construction of warning signs before leaving it. But he, surely to be known as the greatest Warboss to devastate the Skylands, knew exactly what the ancient Portal Master had done however many decades ago. The old man was trying to avoid drawing attention to this spot, not dealing with it but refusing to allow anyone else to believe it was important, which meant it was valuable. Even a Portal Master turned the other way, but his warband wouldn't. 25 strong, his soldiers were armed to the teeth in quality armor bent to their whims, wielding high-voltage weapons crafted for the stalwart defenders against his Outlands, stood before a small clearing in the woods. The pathway was very small and poorly trodden but noticeable nonetheless.

"Awll ahead, Bosh!" One of his men, Buggug, shouted and banged on his shield with his Static Spear.

He did his best to be a patient leader, most Warbosses were challenged and defeated because they were so ruthless to their own underlings and he preferred not to have his mission ruined before it started, but that one had a tendency to get on his nerves. Test the Warboss's patience he might, but he had a lot of spirit and energy that just needed to be pointed in the right direction. He raised a hand, motioning the unit to stop, and turned to Kencid, one of six Drow who'd joined his ranks since breaking free of the Tower's watch. They knocked a bow and lightly tugged the string back in preparation, pupilless eyes leering into the shade and greenery. They turned to him after a moment and signed that they were clear, but to be careful.

"Ahrms reahdy, boiz." He shouted and raised his spear-turned-mace while adjusting the two Shock-It Shields melded with his left gauntlet.

Leaves grazed his helmeted head and missed most of his soldiers' thick skulls. The six Drow moved fluidly through the trees as a skilled unit trained in their people's ways and honed with experience in his band. Two of them led the way, holding long spears with curved tips like daggers; the other four were the expert bowmen he'd sought their help for. His ranged capabilities weren't as numerous as he would've liked, but they more than made up for it in the skills to give Skylanders a run for their gold.

Crunching beneath the orcs' feet were bones of all kinds. Dirt made them blend in with the twigs but he could never miss the familiar give of a broken skull. Some of them were clad in rusted armor too weak to be worth adding to their suits, others hadn't thought they needed it or were wearing lighter equipment that had long rotted away. A few draconic skulls and massive canine teeth covered in very old blood clinked against their boots as they came across the object of his curiosity surprisingly quickly.

Another small clearing, one far less deep in the wood than he was expecting, held their prize. What was Eon looking to protect? What did he want to hide from the world? None other than a small egg. It was nestled in a ring of branches, itself sitting in a small crater. The egg was vibrant purple, lightly covered in orange and red leaves riddled with rotting brown holes, and resting just beneath a massive pear-shaped tree with a warped trunk shifting in many directions before they loosely recollected at the top in something vaguely resembling a healthy plant.

The Drow among them glanced to him, a muted warning that something wasn't right. He motioned for one of the smaller orcs to approach the egg alone, just in case. The weaker figure carefully approached the nest. Orcs weren't a particularly magically inclined species but even they could feel the power exuding from the grove. Bones crunched under his soldier's feet, from skulls to entire ribcages, but the forest otherwise stayed quiet, not even the chirping of birds followed them within the mass grave. So what was it that felled these warriors?

His grunt's offhand gauntlet screeched as he grabbed the egg and brought it up to his face. He sniffed it, he stared at it, he weighed it up and down, and looked to the boss for direction. The Drow and Warboss, though, knew swiftly what was casually held in the palm of his green hand; not just a dragon egg, but that of an Elemental Paragon. The Dark Elves looked between each other, victory beyond their wildest imaginations painted over their green faces, but he'd learned better than to celebrate so soon.

As a result, he was the only one prepared for something to happen. The huge, deformed tree behind the Orc burst open. Splinters flew through the woods and the nest of some squirrels was flung from the tree, likely killing anything inside. A large hand clad in completely black armor, every plate ending in a razor-sharp edge with but a sliver of a metallic glint. Five clawed fingers and a thumb clenched around the Orc's skull and crushed it quickly, wrapping it in a black fire that sucked the light out of its surroundings and pulled falling leaves and woodchips into its hungry embrace.

The soldier fell dead, 24 left, and the dragon egg slipped back into its nest. Each of the four Drow archers swiftly put four or five arrows into the tree within a second. Spikes lining the armored limb and piercing out of its elbow sawed through the back of the tree as it moved its arm back in the blink of an eye, just as fast as the two dozen projectiles' flight. The rear trunk scraped off, then the arm rushed in front of it.

Every arrow pinned to the bark was crushed by the forearm as the claws dug into the tree, peeling the wood off like it was little more than a banana peel. More and more of the tree creaked and cracked and splintered and tore apart. Out of the gap, up from a shin-deep hole in the ground with the tree's roots coiling around its feet, stepped a massive knight covered in dark armor, every inch filled with sharp edges and layers of jagged plates.

He was skinnier than the Warboss expected from the man who just ripped through a tree with his bare hands, but even taller than he was. Even Master Eon would be dwarfed by this warrior, two heads over the Portal Master and one over the Warboss who ordered a charge to avenge their fallen comrade and take their hard-earned loot. The Drow warriors held back, side-by-side with him as the Orcs moved. The bowmen shot over the first wave's heads, pinning many arrows into the knight's armor, all fell broken to the forest floor.

The Dark Knight, his helmet unnatural even for the widely absurd residents of Skylands he'd already crossed and crushed, didn't flinch at the island-shaking warcries of his greatest soldiers. The helm was round at the top, full of ridges, the centers had triangular points. Its sides had spirals cradled by shadows. But the front bore the ugliest mug he'd ever seen, and he'd fought countless other Orcs to be free of the Outlands. There were six abyssal eyeholes with no mirage of a face behind them, two facing the front like normal eyes, two to the sides like deer, and two above both completing the triangles. From under the panel slithered many armored tentacles tipped with knives; coated in shields like the backs of snake armor on one end and lined with clicking razors on the other.

Its tentacled face didn't wince or twitch as it dragged a greatsword out of the darkness of the hollowed-out tree. The blade was curvy like a squiggly line at the top half, smooth on the front edge, serrated on the back, and had a pair of long spikes coming out of the guard. The guard was slightly V-shaped with curved-upward daggers on either end. Its handle was full of small bumps and etchings that made his head ache and vision blur when he tried to look at them, a spiked ring in the middle with a longer point for a pommel. The blade's flat ends and the plates of his armor were covered in similar sickening markings that made his archers dizzy until they couldn't risk shooting through the Orcs.

With one swipe, his gigantic sword in one hand and moving with a blur, the Dark Knight bisected five of his favored Orcs. 19 left. The next wave paused for but a second, save for one of the bigger gitz who had too much momentum and tried to bash through the knight's horrible helmet with an axe of bone. He wasn't even given the dignity of being cut down, the armored man punched him in the gut with his free hand while the one holding the Greatsword slowly wound up for another attack. A trail of blood followed the Orc as he flew into the bushes and dripped from the man's fist until it ignited in a black fire. 18.

Three of the front Orcs tried to attack at the same time. The knight blocked all three and tossed a black fireball over their heads, the blast tore through two of his archers and Orcs, leaving many others scarred and on fire, including one of the Drow warriors. 14. Then he pressed his hand into the tip of his greatsword and lifted, pushing away the three brave frontrunners before he decapitated all three with one more swing. 11. The knight stepped closer, covering an incredible amount of ground quickly with his spindly legs and lifting his sword to the islands above like it was weightless.

Cold and darkness grew over the rapidly dwindling warband like all life and light were being drained from their lives with his twisted presence, the suffering only ended for one of them when he brought the sword down on his head. 10. For just one, crucial second, his blade got stuck in the Orc's salvaged helmet and one of his buddies tried to stab the knight in the hip. The buzzing tip of the three-pronged spear sparked and bent as the stranger's fist collided with it. He lifted his sword again and buried it in the offending Orc's heart. 9. The pommel pierced another Orc's skull as he pulled away and turned to the last few Orcs. 8.

The last two archers did their best to halt the knight's advance to no avail, the Drow warriors that ran ahead found no more success. Two of his final three Orcs had their last attacks blocked and countered with lethal efficiency. 6 None other than Buggug waited for the Drow to join the fight before he lunged. Both Drow's weapons shattered as he pressed his greatsword into their tips, a testament to their strength and resolve in any other circumstance, and sliced their heads off. 4. Buggug, under the cover of spurting blood and shattered bone, stabbed into the knight's throat. He caught the electrified speartip and crushed the sharpened copper prongs before shoving Buggug to the ground like he weighed nothing, opening the last two archers for one swift attack. 2.

"Kraugug!" Buggug screamed before a boot with three clawed toes crushed his skull.

He knew my name?

The lone knight stood silently before Warboss Kraugug, hefting his greatsword to point at the Orc. No, not his greatsword, its. The creature didn't breathe, it didn't blink behind those six voids, its tendrils didn't idly flick and curl, its arm showed no sign of wear while holding the full weight of a greatsword on its own, it hunched over on legs like a dog's, and its other hand tensed like it was baring its talons.

1

-<🌀>-

Eon stroked his beard as he wandered the forest for the first time in too long. He knew he should've checked in more frequently, but running the academy and keeping the Core of Light under wraps was no easy feat. There just wasn't time in his day! That was it! But for now, the end of his staff tapped on rocks and flattened grass as he used it as a hiking stick. His snow-white hair stiffened at the sound of harsh, violent clashes. Weapons were slamming against each other with the force of Giants and moved at the speed of Superchargers.

His worst fears had come true. Not only had a rouge Warboss broken through the measly barriers the Mabu had constructed around the forbidden area, and he'd found something of great importance. He tried to convince himself that not all was lost as he sprinted through the trees, what few reports made it to his desk in the short time it took for Kraugug to get to the forest said he was running a very small team, even if they were skilled. Portal Master or not, going after them alone wasn't his brightest moment (but not his dimmest, either), but they'd progressed faster than he anticipated.

A massive Orc, a full head taller than him, almost flattened the old man out of nowhere, followed by a black blur that chilled the air and sucked up the light. A shadow of a knight clashed with a greatsword in just one hand against the shielded arm of the Warboss. Bolts of electricity flew and roars of battle quaked the very island they stood on. The pair of Shockspire Tower Guard shields bashed into the Orc's arm shook, dented, and cracked under the force of the knight's blade until they fell sadly off the green forearm.

In an instant, the knight cut through the Warboss's arm. Eon quietly stepped back, focused on the unfamiliar figure with his staff swirling cyan magic. The Orc bellowed in pain, reaching for one last, desperate hit with his spear like it was a mace, only for the knight to parry it with one hand on his greatsword and the other rearing back to grab his arm and peel off the beaten steel plates, then cut off the other arm in the same motion. It started twirling the greatsword behind it and back to its side as the Warboss's knees buckled, out of breath with sweat pouring down his muscular green skin.

"Huff A... huff... proper enemy..." He wheezed before the shadow-cloaked knight buried its blade deep in his chest.

The knight slowly turned to face Eon, motions too fluid for a living being and unbearably steady. Yet it didn't attack. Eon held his fire, the knight stood silent. Was it waiting for him to make the first move? If it was, it was going to be sorely disappointed. His eyes flashed and staff hummed as he felt around the forest for his target. It was challenging when he'd never been to the next but its immense magic presence and the cold, twisted bubble of time encasing it guided him well enough to open a temporary portal under the nest. Whatever ward or curse was keeping the scaly egg in place shattered as it fell right into his hand.

The tendrils of the knight's face flicked, slithering aside like they were legs and its head a body, then it wrapped itself in a veil of pure darkness littered with orbs of condensed shadows and vanished.

Eon released a breath he didn't know he was holding after waving his staff around, filling the area with Divination Magic until he was sure the warrior was gone and looking at the egg in his grasp. Suddenly, it started to shake. He set it on the ground out of fear of dropping it, only taking the time to make sure the soil was soft before stepping back. The hatchling was a feisty one, sending pieces of his egg across the forest floor with small kicks and punches. All that remained was a part sitting on his little purple head.

A pair of bright orange eyes stared up at Eon as he quickly but gently removed the last shard of his egg, the vibrant purple scales clashing with his shiny orange horns, tail, and ridges along his spine. His small claws swiped at the Portal Master's fingers and tiny mouth snapped the air. The dragon let out a cross between a smoky cough and giggle, no bigger than the length of Eon's arm but strong and full of personality.

"Hello, little one. I mean you no harm." Eon whispered and crouched down to the dragon's level.

The hatchling eyed him suspiciously. "You must be hungry." Eon thought aloud and created another small portal, dropping a chicken wing into his hand. He probably should've checked if the box was still there, first. "Cold chicken?" He offered.

It hobbled over to Eon, still figuring out how to walk and flapping his small wings without the power to use them yet, then snatched the chicken right out of his hand and gobbled it all in one bite. The Portal Master blinked, stunned, then shook it off and allowed the dragon to crawl up his arm.

"You are special, little one." Eon cradled the dragon and waved his staff in a swirl of magic. The hatchling growled playfully and swiped at his beard, his big orange eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. "Very special indeed." The old guardian chuckled and stepped through.

-<🌀>-

Wake up, make sure Maria's dressed, grab lunch, play with her until the bus arrives, go to school, check on her during lunch, go home, play with her, read a story, and tuck her in.

It was a repetitive life, sure, but one George was happy with. His little sister was an angel, Mom and Dad were proud of him, his teachers loved him, and the crap the other kids gave him wouldn't change any of that. They'd gone to the same school their whole lives, he made long-lasting friends way before Maria was born and the common rabble of bullies and wannabe bigshots might've been loud and good at crocodile tears, but he wrestled with his Dad all the time.

There were some small fights, more like him moving them around, but they died down quickly. The principal tried to pull some 'zero tolerance' nonsense on him but he vividly remembered Dad asking him and Mom to leave, the office door didn't muffle the screaming and he was half-sure they'd walk back in on the principal with a black eye. Combined with the teachers who regularly saw the incidents not being the silent type and a whole bunch of different office and parent politics put the whole thing to rest before it went anywhere. As far as he could tell, nobody was going to be much of a problem anymore.

Also, his Dad was at least twice everyone else's parents' size and 1,000,000% muscle with a giant gun basement and military background, so they'd be dead meat anyway.

Maria was wandering off for now, though. Mom needed to take her to the dentist because of all the extra Halloween candy she'd gotten into so she stalled with messes of toys and dragging him into a teaparty. Of course, that just meant she had a lot to clean up when they got home, but it was worth the effort. Dad was busy doing some volunteer work, too, so there was no excuse to somehow shove the living room cleanup onto him because he wasn't going to be shouting at his team watching football. She tried, though!

As for George, he and a couple of friends were walking around the outskirts of their neighborhood. There was this incredibly old and rotting house just outside the HOA's jurisdiction, the local Karen hated it. The crumbling thing was so obviously a crack house that there were whispers the police didn't even get a warrant to raid it. Now everything had been cleared out, though, that day delayed their bus pretty badly so he helped Maria get through her homework so she could play quicker.

One of the four wasn't so certain about checking it out, and George understood. This place was creepy even if it didn't have a half-destroyed roof. Vines were strangling it on the outside and rusty nails and decaying wood were barely holding it together on the inside. But it was chill by now; the thugs got arrested and they had shoes on. They drew straws and George was the poor sap dared to go in first, so he did. Just like he told them, nothing was amiss and the worst-off parts of the house were super obvious. One by one they wandered and picked through what was left behind. Nothing too interesting but there was some tarnished jewelry buried in piles of wood, knocked loose in the cops' raid. Mostly some necklaces and earrings that were easily knocked off.

As first inside, George got first rights to them. He grabbed a necklace and they continued down the streets. They passed some friends and pet some stray dogs while walking around. He got a text from Mom that the appointment was taking longer than they thought, a bad storm rolled in and knocked out a lot of the power, including the X-rays. As a result, George wound up staying out longer than his buddies and got caught in a torrential downpour.

It was fun at first, walking through puddles and chatting with one of the girls from school who made herself some coco and sat on her porch, but he was getting far from home and his clothes were totally soaked through. He started running when the lightning began. Thunder shook him to his core and bright flashes of energy were all that lit his way after the street lights got knocked out, which was a lot for a storm that wasn't even in the forecast. Where did this even come from?

He could already see his Mom with her hands on her hips and an exasperated smirk standing in the doorway. George only stopped to take shelter in the rotten house. The whole thing vibrated when lightning struck, but it held and he wasn't being pelted for a little while. He figured he might as well take another look around the building while he waited for the rain to relent. Carefully, he dug through bits of wood again. Not in a way where he might cut his hand on something rusty or get a splinter, he wasn't stupid, but it didn't matter. Neither the upper or ground levels had anything interesting or valuable.

Downstairs he went, getting ready to brave the storm again and finally get home to a warm shower and change of clothes when he heard a draft. Not feel it, hear. The sound of something humming caught his attention. He could hear the wind flowing but not the cold of rushing air brushing against his wet shirt. Maria's going to have a heyday in this when she gets home. All the time she'd want to send outside could be put back for a little while, he couldn't tell where the draft was coming from and now he was curious. There were loads of holes in the house with rain drooling out of them like spittle, but none of them strong enough to make that noise, meaning there was a part of the house they missed!

The search took a short minute but he found a trap door buried under a shallow pile of rock. It blended into the rest of the floorboards so they overlooked it the first time, but anything that was buried down there was his! Not that he expected much, he would've shared if he thought anything was waiting for him down there. If there was rubble on top of it before he got there then the guys who dealed here probably didn't know about or use it. Even the police must've overlooked it, which might've been cause for concern but he was just some kid from down the street; someone else would worry about it.

Down the basement stairs where the constant humming came from was... not what he expected...

Light shone through the cracks of wood and the droning turned to higher whistling the closer he got. Bright white light blinded him at the bottom. Did someone leave a really bright flashlight in the wall or something? He wasn't an electrician but TV and movie made electrical sounds deeper than this. The light got brighter, turning deep orange. Bits of wood and pebbles started to shake and levitate, then hovered in the light's direction.

George's heart pounded as he started to feel the draft. It wasn't cold like air, more like his body was being magnetized. He tried to run up the stairs but one of his legs got flung right out from under him. His whole upper body started pulling toward the orange light, slamming him into the rails while his other shoulder bashed into the stairs. Fingers digging into the wet wood, he clawed his way up the next few steps and used the support poles of the rails like a ladder until a crack made his heart freeze.

Creaks and snaps shook the stairs as George desperately climbed up. The light pulled him down on the steps, they dug into his ribs and gut until the last few intact fibers of wood gave way and the soggy, pulpy remains easily fell out of place. Parts of the rails followed him to the floor, but the harsh impact on his back never came. A frantic yell tore from his throat as if anyone could hear or reach him before the light pulled him directly in without ever touching the floor.

-<🌀>-

Never in her life did she think she'd miss high school.

Eugenie idly tapped the side of her lunch bag. The brown paper rustled. Her turkey sandwich was wrapped in plastic wrap, there was a Snickers from one of the vending machines and a bottle of water stuffed inside, too, but none of them called to her. She tried to choose one of the many seats around the entire campus and eat but no matter what students had passed her by, no matter how quiet it was supposed to be at that period, she couldn't find her appetite.

The worst part was that she normally loved school. Seeing her friends, talking to her teachers, book clubs, a break from her parents. What wasn't there to love? Sure, she wasn't popular, but she was far from low enough to be pushed around. Her whole friend group in all of her classes was small and full of well-read people who managed to avoid most of the teenage drama everyone else seemed to get wrapped up in on the regular. And between periods she got to meet up with her real pals, not just the one neighbor whose note she helped write. She was at the height of it! No football team members hitting on her every other day, nobody trying to shove her in lockers, she had the looks, she had the brains, she aced every quiz and lesson in a heartbeat!

And then she got asked to take that damn test.

And then she got the results back.

And then she aced a mid-college-level test without any of the material being covered in the base curriculum she'd been required to know to graduate. The stuff she didn't need to know but loved to research for nothing but the sake of her own passion.

And then she got fast-tracked through the system.

The last few days in her normal school suffocated her even more than the soulless walls closing in around her and old posters passing her by. Almost everyone around her was either jealous or congratulatory, one was draining and the other shallow. Her friends did their best to put her up. Even the most miserable of them was all smiles and applause. They flew in one ear and out the other. By the end of that week, when every drop of energy she had felt like it'd been ripped clear out of her body, her parents had everything ready for the two-hour drive into the city. During the day, school sucked her dry, and when she got home it was time to pack her things.

Clothes, toiletries, keepsakes, whatever. Eugenie didn't really know what she packed; most of it was blindly tossed in the big blue suitcase until she could flop into bed. That drive was even more tiring. This big, prestigious private university was 'the path to her future!' everyone said, 'her way into the adult world!' as if the world she had now being flipped on its head was something to be happy about. Which was another thing the kids at her real school threw back at her, 'someone's entering the adult world' like it was a great thing with poorly veiled spite. It was no accomplishment. It wasn't shooting her ahead.

It wasn't something to be proud of.

This place was all money and no substance. She had no friends and even fewer hopes of making any. It wasn't even because she wasn't 'the smart kid' anymore, she could feel the whispers behind her back and the plastic smiles made her sick. Every single one of them looked down on 'the young kid' since the start. She was at their learning level but half their age, and nobody hated it more than she did. The professors were just as fake, all but rolling their eyes that someone small and meaningless as her rushed her way to the top of the school system like their talents were so above her paygrade or that she was struggling with the topics she taught herself before having to bother with them.

Which did nothing to help. Her protests were brushed off since her parents were informed of her incredible score. Not knowing anyone, being so far from home, being so alone in a school that taught her no faster than herself with a fraction of the effort, it didn't matter to them. What mattered was telling the whole town how smart their daughter was and how far ahead she was compared to everyone else. And if she didn't go to uni, how would they tell everyone how great their kid was? All the glory and none of the responsibility.

Part of her whispered that they wanted to get rid of her, the other part slowly started believing it.

There was only one thing that distracted her from the constant, crushing loneliness: the library. The librarian didn't even pretend to care who came and went, they were here for the payment and knowing every book on these shelves, not to be welcoming. As if she needed anything else dragging down her mood. There was a silent reading area beneath the library, sort of a basement. It had a few tables strewn around and basic brick walls painted waxy white. She had all the fantasy, dark fantasy, sci-fi, and historical fiction novels she could ever want buried in her bag; Eugenie barely brought her textbooks with her anymore, few of the teachers noticed when she wasn't there (and some even missed when she was).

Never before did she worry about making a habit of cutting class, either, yet here she was with slipping grades she suddenly had a hard time caring about. Any earlier and she'd be freaking out over a simple sick day but no matter how much coffee she downed, she couldn't find the energy to care. But now it was happening to her books. For an hour straight, she pinned herself to the pages. The plot almost registered but the individual words, the smell of the pages, started to meld together and fade. More than a few times she turned back entire chapters for details she missed that were directly in front of her, then did so again and again. She might as well have started over.

She just wanted it to be over, to leave everything behind.

Then again, what was the point when she didn't have anyone to share it with? What was the point when she was too swamped in work to even text the few friends she couldn't see, even if she had an opening in her new schedule? Why should she keep going with this? It wasn't like she signed up for this, she never asked to be here, quite the opposite! And today, several students (adults twice her age!) didn't even pretend to look her way before muttering about her.

She just wanted it to be over, to leave everything behind.

Eugenie shut the book. The librarian had just recently peeked down the stairs to see if she was still there ten minutes after the period change. Her lunch bag was still abandoned by her feet, including the wasted two-dollar candy bar and smushed sandwich. Her backpack weighed a ton by itself but felt even heavier than when she came down here. She barely even bothered to put the books she pulled out of the sack back inside. For a few seconds, she tried to lean over each of them and get back into the story, but couldn't get past the first few words her bookmarks hovered over. The only reason she had to keep dragging them along was all the allowance and Birthdays she'd spent on them. At this rate, she might have to make two trips to her dorm and risk them being stolen.

She just wanted it to be over, to leave everything behind.

Nobody around her cared, anyway. Those who did were either so far out of reach they'd never be a factor or felt like they'd left her behind. Eugenie was the only one on her side.

A chill ran through the air while the books she shoveled into her bag tripled in weight. The AC couldn't have kicked on, she could see the vent, something was behind her. Eugenie whirled around, terrified someone was behind her, but the room was completely empty. Not a soul had been watching her, nobody was in sight, but there was a bright light coming from around one of the many small bookshelves shoved into the tight space. The white glare whistled a song like singing birds and rushing winds.

She told herself she was just seeing things, that her blurry and irritated eyes were playing tricks on her, but then she looked around. In between two shelves was a glowing ball of light. Nothing was holding it up, there wasn't a string dangling from the ceiling. It just floated there. Maybe it was a magnet trick? It was way too bright to be one of the school lights, yet so gentle. It started to swirl and thrum mightier as she approached. What at first had to be a prank threw logic out the window when the ball swirled with light blue streaks like the stars in Starry Night. The ribbons wriggled around her arms and blew her shirt around.

It got stronger and stronger, but for how long would it stay that way? Was this thing just going to disappear? What were the odds this would ever happen again? Could she bear to let it go so easily? The weight of her bag pulled her down but a childlike wonder she hadn't felt in a long time saw her through. It grew and grew, beckoning her inside. The songs of birds and bleats of sheep echoed through the reading area, the winds blew the smell of fresh grass in her face and flicked some cool water droplets over her blonde hair. Something was on the other side, it was waiting for her, calling for her to step through the rift.

Somewhere she could leave everything behind.

The next time the librarian would delve back into the room would be only a few minutes later when she smelled the same grass and seawater Eugenie did, followed by a shrug and the assumption she silently walked out while she was setting up the printer for other students.

Chapter Text

Spyro didn't usually resign himself to the outside of the Academy, of the greatest heroes their land had ever known, but today was a special case.

Today was the day the best among them, the Skylanders who claimed the greatest and most vital victories against evils the likes of Kaossandra the Corrupting and Malefor the Dark Master, of the Doom Raiders and massive Orc Warbands out of the furthest and deepest depths of Skylands that no other Skylanders dared venture. Eon's personally selected, exalted warriors, legends beyond what any other aspirants could even dream of achieving.

And who's ranks he was expected to join.

Only two were here and the whole Skylander's Castle, from the Academy to the Living Quarters of real Skylanders, was buzzing with activity. The Arena was packed as the two dueled, performing impossibly complex and incredibly advanced maneuvers many of them had never known of until they were accomplished with precision and such speed that even blinking could have you miss crucial parts of the fight. One was of the Magic Element, Voodood, and a renown Dragon Slayer before becoming a Skylander; his very presence was said to give dragons of any element visions of doom and misery, and Spyro believed it.

The other was a yet older icon, Chop Chop. His dark blue armor dated back to the age of the Arkeyans, he fought the Giants at the dawn of the Portal Masters' rise, even killed a few whose names were lost to time. When the empire fell and he was left to wander from battle to battle, a young Portal Mistress arrived to bring him new purpose. He'd been bounced from Master to Master for a while, lingering whever he was needed and fought in the war against the Darkness. One of extremely few beings older than Eon, much older, and a god of the sword and shield. The brass trims of his armor and the wavering magic of his blade glistened and sparked as he clashed with his brother-in-arms, leaving streaks of light and necrotic energy to match the floating orbs of violet lightning his opponent cast about the sand and enchanted stone walls.

Voodood was the only one of the two whose movements could be easily seen without the honed skill and speed to match him, but his axe certainly wasn't. The only suggestion that it was even there was the crackling gold electricity around the blade. A polearm the size of the Orc, yet he swung it with the speed of a Drow's dagger. Spyro's eyes felt dry and was thankfully allowed a moment to blink when the Orc finally moved in a way that ended in the blade stopping.

A chain sprouted from the staff, humming with electricity as the circular rings with small spikes on the sides clattered and tightened perfectly at the end of the blade's flight. It buried itself in the wall for just a split second as he pulled himself forward to kick the ancient Arkeyan, bearing a sleek dragonsteel blade ordained with gold. A spear made the tip, four-sided and with small hooks near the middle to make movement easier. A grappling hook and crossbow built into his weapon that tore straight through the scales of many dragons and tore their tendons out with it on equally many occasions. Each blade of the double-headed axe had three small triangular points in the middle, near the top, and near the bottom.

The smooth and deeply penetrating edge of a curved weapon that could slice off his wings in an instant mixed with serrations that stopped the wound from closing properly. It scattered stone chips over the ground as it pulled out of the wall and slammed against the Arkeyan's shield. He got no such opportunities to glimpse at Chop Chop, he never stood still and moved as a blue blur obscured by his sword's aura. Only the massive yellow-eyed skull on the face of his shield appeared for short seconds. It had a bone-like horn on the forehead that he swung aside to catch one of the links on Voodood's grapple and yank it behind him, trying to get a good hit in but being blocked by the axe's staff.

He already had a headache and couldn't sleep the night before, knowing what was awaiting him, trying to make sense of the fight didn't help. While the cheers from the stands blurted by cadets and Skylanders alike didn't help, he found some solace in his hiding place. There weren't many islands overseeing the Castle at any point but the top of the arena had a flat area right on top of the walls that he was happy to observe from. Usually, it was just to watch and take notes from the Skylanders using the training system and graduates, but the chance to watch some Elites duke it out was too good to pass up!

As far as he could tell, only one other person used these spots. They were far across from him, a black speck at the other end of the Arena, and much more animated than him. Any other day, he'd want to know and wow whoever found his spot, but not today. They were pacing back and forth, visibly trying to keep up with the battle below. Sometimes, the glint of metal would flash into his eyes; others, he'd be met with the same shade of purple as his healthy scales spreading out between the bones of their wings and along their underbelly. He couldn't tell if they noticed him, but their attention was focused entirely on the Elites either way. He felt fine enough to just lie down and watch the pair of blurs rush about and cast interval sparks.

That didn't mean he was comfortable. Every individual scale stung and burned beneath his hide. They jostled out of place and crumpled like paper, dropping to his claws. Walking hurt, every step sent lightning up his legs and the muscles felt like they were injected with acid. Breathing was a challenge and the bones of his wings felt cracked, though that one wasn't as unfamiliar with all the flying he did. Barbed wire filled his spine from wrapping around his snout to the segmented spike at the tip of his tail. His paws were throbbing and eyes were heavy, so he made the mistake of relaxing atop the wall.

-<🌀>-

The dragon almost crashed to the ground when he suddenly awoke to the sound of an airship's propeller engine revving to life. His wings failed him, and some of his scales got buried in the bushes. Luckily, nobody saw him, he may not have been one of the Aspirants like Drobot but he had a reputation to maintain. He hoped to continue flying under the radar on his way to his dorm despite the chipped and bent scales falling off of his body, but his hopes were dashed by a booming voice echoing around the flying fortress.

"Spyro, please come to my tower." Eon's voice was quiet but carried far. Great.

He spread his wings, wincing as the membrane stretched and joints popped. It took a few preparation flaps but he got airborne and glided over the Castle. He could see almost every part of the Portal Master's enormous creation. Every Element had its own segment on the outside, each with its own method of automated defense. Fire was a vast expanse of volcanic rock and flowing lava with mini volcanoes bound by steel and angled outward like canons, ready to blast meteors. Water was next to it, creating a temperature shift across the ocean, bubbling waters on one side with big glaciers on the other. It had everything from ice spikes to steam vents around the perimeter.

Life was a dense green forest full of all sorts of plants. He vaguely remembered the many remodels and enchantments that section went through from when he was a hatchling. Master Eon had tried several times to tamper with the delicate balance of different flora from all across the known Skylands, to add more and modify the conglomerate of invasive species, and he remembered the frustrated rants and huffs that startled him awake before he could speak, usually right before he gave up and returned it to normal. Many of those plants were different flavors of toxic and carnivorous, they did their best to keep those ones by the border but Life was a wild element by nature (heh).

Undead was a barren spot, a buffer of sorts between Life and the other elements. Combined with the side of Water, it kept the balance. The Skylanders and Aspirants who lived their made homes out of massive skulls and bones filled with brick walls and other, darker materials that stood out against the other bright palettes around it. He didn't know much about the skulls that defended that spot, he didn't like venturing there. Earth was similar, like someone had turned up the brightness. Tough and mountainous next to the Undead side and soft and sandy on the other, it felt great on his scales. Spyro loved burying himself in the sand and just being dead to the world for a while, a little break from it all he would've liked to take now. Pylons lined the outside, they were primed for petrification.

Air was the least coherent of the segments, full of gaps and floating islands connected by rope bridges rarely used by the people who lived there. The houses looked more humble like those of the Mabu then the rest of the specialised and custom-decorated homes, and the swirling rifts and turbulance flowing between them was more than enough protection. Magic was also quite odd, but not to him. The side closest to Air was cracked and fragmented with streams of energy rushing between the gaps until the more sturdy portion cut off the momentum, those were also great to dip his arms and wings into. Tech was the opposite, solid and angular with loads of gears and similar clockwork parts constantly clicking and rotating. His home was lined with giant crystals casting arcs of energy between them, theirs was armed with more precise cannons with great targeting systems.

Spryo had stalled about as long as he could and dove down to the center fort, where the Arena and schooling segments flanked Eon's keep with the Elemental cores for each segment tucked between. He was glad he wasn't around when the wizard had to figure out how to make every Element's section even with multiple huge modules between them. Near the bottom was the Students section. It was less for making future Skylanders and more for measuring potential. Most were there for the base tests and schooling needed to see if someone even qualified, another large portion of Students were troublemakers whose parents sent them to the Skylanders to straighten out; usually right before or after they got in some serious trouble.

A very small percentage made it to become Cadets. Sometimes called Recruits, that was his class. They were a little closer to the tower and slightly higher up. Physical preparations were more important there and they got better dorms. At the same height but closer to the main keep were the Neophytes who started getting dedicated teachers, rather than the often revolving door of Skylanders who taught whenever they could. A little higher were the Protophytes, the best performing of whom sometimes got special lessons from higher-end or specialized Skylanders like the Swap Force and Trap Team. Those who were better fit for teaching incredible individuals than large classes. Last was the Aspirants, waiting in line to overcome the final trials. At the very top stood Eon's very own home and office, where an even younger Spyro stole cookies and learned to fly. The huge wooden door was shut and he could hear the mumbling of voices on the other side.

One was echoie and almost mechanical, unnaturally smooth and thrumming with power from beyond the grave. "Millennia since the fall, since the vanquishing of the Light Eater, and yet you are no closer to claiming an heir? What good could you possibly expect to come from this?"

The other voice he knew as well as his own. "I am not careless, old friend. Portal Masters do not come easily. In all my time, I have seen my kind come and go. To simply produce a successor is no easy feat."

"I do not speak of Portal Masters, m'Lord." The stranger clarified. His footsteps could be heard through the door and vibrated with soulless power through the stone flooring and walls. "Portals are a vital tool, but no necessity. The heart of the Skylanders will outlive you, the good they do, and they will need that purpose to be taught and wielded properly. Not having a solution ready is the work of a fool. I know you are better than this."

"I have stood a bastion against Kaossandra's horrors long before the last time Mount Cloudbreak erupted and Cloudcracker Prison was constructed, I will remain all the same so long as the Skylanders need me." Eon insisted. Spyro let his eyes flutter shut as they paced and talked to relieve some of the pain in his head.

"Yes, just like the Ancients, just like the Arkeyans, like the Troll and Drow and Greeble empires, like the Orc war prophets, like your-" The stranger started.

"Do not finish that, you have made your point." Pain seeped from the Portal Master's voice, along with a thinly veiled anger. Spyro was familiar with the irritation version of it but the angry one he'd only known from lectures on controlling his emotions.

The anger of the last Light Portal Master was rare and forceful, yet it did nothing to deter the stranger. "Your failure to plan is planning to fail, Eon. This will be your undoing."

A heavy sigh followed. "What do you suggest, then?"

"A counsil." The stranger answered. "Your age and experience cannot be replaced, so a variety of ideas must suffice in your stead. One, maybe two for each Element."

"Whom do you suggest?" The creaking of a chair interrupted Eon's questioning.

"The Elites are warriors and thinkers, but we perfect the art of fighting on the front lines, of facing impossible odds, not logistics and dividing our brothers. I propose a new class. Those trying to become Skylanders, yet possess a special set of skills, may better suit a seat in the tower and a Master to teach them what those they must handle cannot."

Eon sighed again and hummed in the way Spyro recognized as the Portal Master stroking his beard. "... I will consider this, but I am already handling many other aspects of the Skylanders and Academy at the moment." He said in the way Spyro could tell he was waving his hand that he was done with the conversation. "Spyro, my boy, come in."

His eyes snapped awake, it made his head spin. The doors creaked open, the pair towered over him like spires of greatness. How was he meant to climb those heights? The stranger, Chop Chop, was one of few who even made Eon look a little small. He stood before the small dragon in all the glory of a Giant Slayer, one who'd no doubt taken his fair share of draconic lives in his time, whether or not he was known for it like the other Elite.

The two giant boots looked half the size of Spyro's whole body. Their feet were mostly round and wide, most of the steel(?) went to the shin guards with a brass trim around the end of the plate, and the diamond-shaped kneecaps had some pointed engravings around the brass outline like two prongs over the shin and one from the top of the knee, pointing at the small line etched into the blue plate with no purpose beyond decoration. His femurs were covered by brass chainmail, but he could see the bone through the holes. The rings connected to a thin belt with two angular panels draping in front of his hip bone like a metal loincloth ordained with brass.

Another cylinder of chainmail loosely covered the bottom of his vertebrae and melded with his chest piece. It had three parts, five if you counted the shoulders. Two rounded panels followed the shape of his ribcage and attached behind a downward point from his brass V-shaped collar. What looked like the brass buckles of blue straps followed the bottom of the rib panels and wrapped around behind him. One other panel behind the rib covers and collar jutted beneath them, in front of the uppermost spine like a spike.

His shoulder plates were huge, riveted on with brass spikes in front and on the other side of his shoulder blades and each curved blue shield had three more brass spines along them. A dark cape swayed with the keep's light breeze, the bottom having been clearly torn and restitched many times. Chainmail lined his upper arms and the inside of his forearms, the outsides were covered by a protruding panel from his blue and brass gloves. Each finger joint had a brass coating between the blue metal. Chop Chop's helmet was melded with his skull with an arc over the top and some axehead-shaped blades on either side of his face with brass edges. His eyes and mouth were gold orbs of light and a symbol embroidered in brass, almost like a heart or horns, cradled a fourth orb in his forehead.

How could anyone live up to that?

The Arkeyan's head snapped to Eon with the same speed he swung his sword. "An Elemental Paragon!?" He muttered.

"Is that what I am?!" Spyro perked, it made his body ignite but he could handle it for now. Eon never told him what dragon he was!

Chop Chop suddenly looked back to him with equally great speed and an unchanging expression. Even without a face, the glare made Spyro squirm against his will, radiating the rage of a thousand Biclopses as he slowly turned to an also noticeably uneasy Eon.

His caregiver opened and closed his mouth like a fish a few times before he could respond. "S-SPyro!" He croaked and coughed, recollecting himself. "I did not see you during the Elites' showing."

That tone, he was a little more familiar with. "I-I was there! I promise!"

"Then what were you doing that took you so long to get here? Why were you not in the crowd?" Eon pressed.

Spyro shrunk back and the Arkeyan cut in with a mechanical and ghastly-sounding clear of his bone throat. The blue meatal neck guard of his armor made the sound resonate in his chest.

"Right." Eon nodded. "Spyro, you need to take your future more seriously. Not only will the Skylands depend on you to stand against the Darkness, but next year you will receive a team that will also need you to be there for them. Kaossandra will not simply stand by and wait for you to be ready to face her when it matters most, and Voodood has already departed to face the armies of Malefor, so I have asked Chop Chop to bring you to the training islands. If you could not give them the respect to attend their demonstration with the rest of the Academy and Skylanders, then you will learn when he is training you to join them."

"To me, dragon." The Elite stomped past him. He made the mistake of hesitating enough to glance at Eon, earning him another disappointed look before he rushed to the Arkeyan's side.

Spyro did his best not to wince when his aching legs hit the floor and tried to hold his head high as he walked beside the Elite. The faces of the Students, Cadets, Neophytes, Protophytes, and Aspirants walking by them blurred together like the swirling well of anticipation of his future successes. Much was ahead of him, even more was expected of him. How quickly he needed to move to keep pace with the living relic made every part of him burn and dread the next morning, but he didn't let it show. He used his wings to cover most of his dead scales and had the membrane catch the loose ones. Some tried talking to him and he waved them off with some pretty minimal cookie-cutter lines about his 'greatness' and what he was capable of while rushing through the pain to follow Chop Chop.

But when they got there, the Elite didn't activate the floating platforms of spinning blades, spikes, and wrecking balls. "You are molting."

Spyro kept moving and tried to turn on the course, but the lever was blocked by an armored hand. "You should not be here."

"But Eon told us to train together." He protested.

"Eon does not always know best." The Elite loomed over him like a titan out of storybooks. "You have practiced hiding it."

"I mean, nobody likes seeing a bunch of dead scales everywhere. It's gross." He waved off.

Chop Chop stood and tilted his armored head, the rest of his posture never wavering, then straightened. "I seek to rest after mine and my brother's duel, we will remain here until Eon is satisfied." The knight sat on the grass. What was he going to do, stop him?

"I do not know much of your kind, my only experience with dragons is facing them in battle." His 'teacher' lectured. "I know your ancestors were grand figures, all of great power, but that is all. They did not dwell in the catacombs and dungeons I operated within when fighting the Dark Master's sychophants. I expected Eon to have the basic knowledge to tell you what you are, it seems I have overestimated him." Chop Chop brought one knee to his chest and rested an arm on it casually, as if he weren't insulting the Portal Master.

"He's trying his best!" Spyro defended. "He has to watch over Skylands, train new Skylanders, work with the working ones including you, study-" He bit back a hiss with every claw he listed off Eon's to-do list.

"Stop doing that." He stopped the dragon.

Spyro tilted his head. "Wha-"

"Pushing back your fingers, you are hurting yourself knowing fully well it is going to get worse tomorrow. Rest here." He waved his armored glove, casting wisps of dark magic that dispersed for a thick packet of aged paper to fall into his metal palm. "This is the standard training regiment for Elites, it will be waiting for you when you awaken. Only attempt a quarter of it."

Chop Chop let the pages flop onto his cape, as did Spyro slowly allow himself to fall. The grass poked his chin, ticklish if the small touches didn't sting. It faded quick but the aching remained. He tried to stay awake and refused to be the one to relent first, but his eyes fluttered shut again.

-<🌀>-

A year and about a day later, when Spyro should've stood proud as a Neophyte, he was absent.

Jet-Vac had trained several classes from Students to Aspirants, and planned with Eon to follow the dragon to his final year, he was very familiar with these types. Those who didn't care, who thought they could get by on talent alone. Yes, Spyro was naturally gifted in combat and magic and was excelling in Pop Fizz's alchemy class, going as far as to willingly sign up for the next level of that class along with an engineering elective, but he'd have to learn soon that not everything would come to him so easily.

At the back of the class, next to the dragon's empty seat, was a small but also gifted Elf. Her pure white eyes didn't blink in undistractible focus, her blue hair was braided back and draped over her shoulder, and she always showed up in her leathery chest cover and big, baggy pants that were tied with ropes around her ankles and like a belt. She held all the promise Spyro should've had. Even further to the side was a Lava Elemental who had a similar forte in the field. She was fast and hit hard, but he was strong and tough. Spyro was somewhere between and held no niche in the team Eon assembled.

The bird wasn't sure why Eon paired them together. They lacked Elemental synergies (which wouldn't have been a problem if a Portal Master besides Eon who followed the path of all elements could be with them at all times, but they only had the one busy one) and he hadn't seen them engaging in many teambuilding exercises. The only reason they were together that he knew of was that they were friends outside of their duties. He'd seen them sledding during Winter and took them trick-or-treating when they were Students, he even chaperoned them for Skylanders Day, but that was a far cry from being a coherent team. That wasn't saying he didn't trust Eon's judgment, just that he didn't understand it.

-<🌀>-

Stealth Elf zipped around their dorm with Eruptor in tow. Saying it wasn't like Spyro to miss classes wasn't exactly accurate, but he rarely missed training. Cutting both in one day was especially suspicious. The Elemental's footsteps shook the tight living space as she waited for him outside the dragon's room. He was right there in bed when she opened the door, they could see his dull, pale orange horns poking out from under his blanket. About the size of a large dog, it was tough for him to hide anywhere. The Forest Elf huffed at the sleeping dragon. Skipping class just to sleep in was a new low, as if she wouldn't do anything to sleep in as well but she never let that get in their way! She'd been getting ready to give him a rude awakening for this nonsense when Eruptor stopped her and pointed beside his bed.

There was a small table packed between the bedframe and wall, she remembered the boys wrestling with it and the one in Eruptor's room for ages just to get it almost against the walls with gashes in the drywall where they tucked it in. An assortment of pill bottles and Spyro's phone were on it, awkwardly shoved against his lamp and balancing on the corner, the medkit from the bathroom was even on the floor beside it. She blinked to the phone in puffs of green smoke and quickly tapped through it. He hadn't changed his password in some time.

The first tab was the search bar. 'cold medicine', 'cold pills', 'fever pills', 'painkillers', 'popular elf cake flavors', 'popular forest elf cake flavors', 'popular lava elemental cake flavors' and such filled up his history. Her face visibly sunk as she read through and Eruptor walked over to Spyro, his warmth compensating for the blanket being pulled off. The dragon was shivering and his face was contorted in pain. His breathing was shallow and labored, his teeth grinded together, tears leaked down his jaw, and his paws were twitching and tensing constantly.

Spyro's scales were dull and gray, covered in white marks from bending and chipping. The ones around his legs and lower body were tight against him, the ends peeling outward and cracking with a few scratch and claw marks. His upper bodywas partially uncovered, revealing the extremely shiny purple scales. With bare shoulders and upper forelegs, a peeled open neck and half cutout lower jaw, it was difficult to tell where he was trying to scrape off his molt and where he'd given up. It looked like it weighed him down, every grayed scale and near-black formerly-orange plate and spike on his chest and spine appeared to weigh a ton to him.

"What did we learn?" Eruptor smirked.

She hated when he was right. When he wasn't cooking or about to burn something to the ground, every little thing went straight to his head. Without answering, she teleported around the dorm to fetch Spyro a glass of ice water and let him sleep. She didn't like being around his shed scales; they were sharp and often stuck to things when they broke off on their own and even bigger (literally) nightmares to get rid of when they snapped off in painful sheets. That, and pain didn't look good on anyone. It was uncomfortable to watch and Spyro in particular hated being seen in this state.

-<🌀>-

A few days later, she took some extra time to use the training islands after class. Eruptor mentioned one of her slash combos looked a little clumsy. She didn't notice a difference and was surprised when the slow but steady one of the group spotted an imperfection, but that hadn't stopped her from hearing him out and lingering to practise the maneuver. A clearly custom-made paper banner above a small cake and some party poppers met her back at the dorm. It folded in on itself with how small the room was but she could read it well enough.

"Happy Team-Day?" She muttered.

Spyro's scales were still glistening purple, their splendor remaining since he hadn't been out of the dorm much since his molt. His horns were gray and cracked, the final layers peeling off with bright orange spots visible in the seams. "Asking when your birthday was would've been too obvious, so I threw something together for when we asked Eon to be a team!" He explained with forced enthusiasm. There were dark bags under his eyes and a croak in his voice. He was still getting better but tried his best.

He noticed her staring. "Don't worry, Eruptor baked the cake. Treetop Sap flavor!" Spyro forced another pained smile.

"I-I wasn't worried! Just... this is the first time I've had a birthday." She smiled softly.

Spryo paused, his foggy mind was lagging far behind the rest of them but it clicked eventually. "Right! Raised by a tree!" He mustered a friendly laugh while Eruptor cut the cake.

-<🌀>-

"How did you even get this?" The black and maroon gryphon asked, ruffling her feathers.

Spyro exhaled a puff of flames under the glass, just to speed up the process. The glass turned a little red at the bottom and the water boiled. Smoke filled the container. "I have my ways." He smirked.

"The Portal Master's kid can pluck weed out of thin air?" She cast him a suspicious eye.

He just smiled and offered her the first whiff. "Better believe it." He'd done this dozens of times before, he knew the Castle like the back of his paw, even through Eon's keep.

-<🌀>-

'I know this isn't the best way to talk about last night, but I wanted to say I really enjoyed it. I know of a great boba place by the castle, do you want to meet me there?'

For the fourth or fifth time, his claw hovered over the send button and froze. He cleared the message and tried to type again. This time, he almost finished a full sentence on the first try! Spyro's wings stretched as he got up. The segmented spikes of his tail flicked against his nightstand, he didn't bother plugging in his phone. The earlier it ran out of battery, the earlier the decision would be made for him. He'd done this song and dance dozens of times, too. It broke every rule in the book and making a connection with a non-Skylander getting out could drag him down with her, especially since she was just a Student considering becoming a Cadet. She wasn't likely to make it to Neophyte, the Skylander attrition rate was that awful. Besides, he had a team that was counting on him and it would be fleeting at best.

"No distractions." He growled to and scolded himself, scratching his foreleg as he let his phone die. One day he'd have to choose between her or a town full of Mabu, and he'd have to save the Mabu.

Much to his surprise, she became a Cadet, but didn't last long after that. She became another of the many blurrs of faces in and out of the lower and outermost rings of the Skylanders Castle.

Chapter Text

Sweeping the lower floors, check. Checking the traps, check and ouch. Cleaning the windows, check. Polishing axes, check.

The lanky troll mentally ran through his list of chores before stepping through a portal in the heart of Kaos's home, bringing him into the Kaossandra's Castle. While Kaos had his own lair, it was much smaller and harder to defend than his mother's, a fact he loathed and often vented his wish to truly move out. He was only permitted a small stone keep, if you could call it that, at the very edge of the mobile fortress and far away from Kaossandra's schemes. Glumshanks was always welcome to go back and forth, of course, a much-appreciated reprieve from her son's favorite 'games' and erratic planning.

Kaos usually kept his most secret machinations down here; his Mother's wards and general anti-scrying and divination measures were second to none and the Castle's physical defenses had remained untouched by even the Skylanders for eons. Whispers of the combined Swap Force and Trap Team members who perished trying to stop her advance echoed even to this day, nobody short of Elites were even considered for an attempt at stopping her plans before they began. Kaos's keep was outside many of those defenses, but the aura and terrible reputation of the Castle drove away most who were unlucky enough to stumble upon it.

And the door made it look like a glorified outhouse, which nobody wanted to chance investigating, especially when Kaos buried anyone who brought it up.

A bolt of dark lightning smashed into the wall beside him when the door creaked open. A pretty regular occurrence, unfortunately. The troll blinked away the lack of surprise and looked around the keep. Kaos had built himself... something in the center. It almost looked like a gutted Core of Light. Four metal arcs inscribed with magic symbols were bolted into the stone floor with a ritual ring wrapping around them, the tops curved and connected above a small electrified crystal hovering in the center. The gem glowed a sickening purple Glumshanks had come to familiarise himself with, the twisted and corrupting hue of Darkness, though it was a pathetic amount. Just beneath it was a crystalline container with white caps on either end, the center holding a much more impressive relic; a Light Elemental crystal. Not that he'd tell Kaos any of that.

Kaos himself was repeatedly striking the crystal with bolts of shadow. The Dark Portal Master was only around half the troll's size, but possessed the power to face Skylanders, not a great combo for him. He was wrapped in a dark cloak he could already tell he'd forgotten to wash, too caught up in whatever his latest scheme was to take care of himself. Almost pitiable if Glumshanks wasn't the one who had to deal with it. His bald head had a violet glow coming from the usually cyan Portal Master symbol on his forehead. He didn't actually know what it meant and was afraid to ask.

The little tyrant's head snapped back to him, that got the troll to flinch. Each of his deep red eyes had dark markings around them he also didn't know the meaning of. They wrapped around his eyes with small points down to his upper lip and larger, jagged ones framing that mark on his head, which simmered purple and returned to its normal color. He knew it cut down on the glare of bright light, making the evil wizard more accurate in certain scenarios, but that was the extent of his understanding and more than he would've cared to understand if the Portal Master hadn't infodumped him when he was slightly shorter.

"Glummy!" He exclaimed with faux welcome. "How's my Lair looking?"

"Spotless, sir." He answered.

"Excellent!" Kaos clapped his hands, not summoning a bolt of lightning to smite him this time. "I'm sure you're wondering what dastardly scheme I've concocted to take over the Skylands."

He wasn't. "Of course." The troll gave the Portal Master a measly thumbs-up.

The Portal Master grinned, baring his fangs. "BEHOOOOOOOOLD!" He gestured to the crystal, humming with energy.

"Are you beholding-"

"I'm beholding."

"Before you stands the latest of my grand creations. Long ago, before Mother's battle with the Swap Force, an assortment of gems infused with incredible evil energy were created: Petrified Darkness. The circumstances of their creation have never been fully understood, their dark power is the result of a great conflict that left no winners to write the history of. However, certain pieces still exist. This one, while small, can one day contain great power.

I've had my troll armies and a very special agent collect some of the very last remnants of Primordial Goo, the Twin Spouts of Ocea Major and Minor, and a Light Creation Crystal. By running the goo through the spouts, along with one of that bounty hunter's scales..." He pulled a black, smooth, shiny dragon scale from his cloak. "I've successfully infused the crystal with some fraction of the powers of the Tech, Water, and Undead elements and an arcane counterbalance of Light. Now, using the combined power of Light and Dark, it's prepared to become the center of a grand weapon I shall use to destroy the Core of Light!"

"Truly despicable, sir." Glumshanks droned.

"Thank you, Glumshanks." He grinned. "The bounty hunter only accepted payment for a little time with the twin spouts and the rest of the Primordial Goo is kept under constant watch by my trolls. But it's not finished. The Core of Light would take too long to destroy with just the might of a Portal Master, I could manage, but with this crystal finished, I'll be able to wipe it out and that infuriating Eon with it!" He spat.

"For that reason, I expect you to finish tomorrow's cleaning tonight and have your bags packed by the morning!" The Portal Master smiled, knowing exactly how impossible that would be and the brutal punishment that would be inflicted when he failed.

The troll sighed in defeat, knowing he was beaten before he even got the chance to try. "And where are we going?" He dared to ask.

"Skylander Castle." Kaos puffed out his chest and ignited cursed flames in his hands. Snapping them shut, he cackled while inhaling the dark smoke. I'm starting to figure out where he comes up with this stuff. "The Aspirants' final trials are coming up soon. Do you know what that means?"

He shrugged. "You'll have more problems on your hands?"

"And Master Eon will unveil the Book of Skylanders to inscribe the souls of the new Skylanders. I've watched the trials from afar already, but this year I believe to finally possess some passing candidates. We'll watch them right at the height of their lives and tear it all down in front of them!" Kaos laughed and paced around his spell circle. "With the book eliminating the Skylanders for us, we'll have free reign to search for Eon's Relics Room, including the map to the Core."

Glumshanks tiredly pointed to the small crystal and asked. "And why don't you finish this power source first?"

"The Skylosers will be on to me if I take too much action so quickly. That's why I had someone else 'borrow' the Twin Spouts for me. I need to be able to find the Core of Light before I make any more big moves. Now GET A MOVE ON! I won't be waiting for you when we leave!"

Kaos snarled as he suddenly snapped, his shadow writhing with a purple haze that only grew in amusement as Glumshanks jumped back. The radiating darkness swirled and pooled into the crystal like a reverse waterfall. The Light Crystal container beneath it trembled and quivered, the crystal cylinder imprisoning it breaking. Light shone through the cracks and dispersed like gas as arcs of purple lightning bounced down to it, turning blinding gold. Kaos was not as affected by the blinding glare as he was and could see the reaction getting stronger. Every exchanged blast of energy, rhythmically releasing pulses of purple shadow and gold rays with exponentially increasing frequency, worsened the chain reaction until he thrust his hands toward Glumshanks and the Petrified Darkness.

A violet bolt dragged Glumshanks to Kaos's side, another soared into the relics. Blasts of energy crashed into the stone walls with ruthless force and soared through the air. Kaos pulled Glumshanks in front of him, blocking one of the bursts as the experiment slowly calmed down. The troll's body ignited like he'd been set ablaze and dipped in acid, leaving him winded on the floor, covered head to toe in soot. He groaned into the rock, feeling the vibrations of the near-explosion slowly relax through the thin, old rug.

Kaos audibly gritted his teeth in frustration. "Again!?" Of course it's a regular thing. The Portal Master huffed and growled in thought, then snapped his fingers. "Quicksilver! Refining the system and binding the magic with Quicksilver can stabilize the process... and I bet those heroes know where some is..." The next chuckle was quieter, more subdued, one he'd heard before but was more sinister than even he was used to. "Perfect..."

"Shouldn't we be worried about..." Glumshanks wheezed and pointed to the experiment.

"Mother would be all over me if I let that destroy her Castle, do you think I don't have a plan?" He deadpanned down at his servant. "Creating portals in the middle of the process acts as an exhaust port to a random dimension. Some understanding and experience allows me to direct the flow to one without any magic of its own. Because of the Skylands' heavy Portal presence, a dimensional curtain of sorts wraps us up. This makes it easy to get out of and travel through Skylands, but near impossible to get in.

The only way for it to be a problem while we're gone would be for an unbloomed Portal Master, to whose world magic is nothing but a myth, to be in the right place at the right time. And even then the rift created would be fleeting."

"But a Portal Master can get through." He tried to voice his only concern. Not that 'concern' was saying much with all the failed plans under the Portal Master's belt. It was hard to care as long as it didn't affect him.

Kaos waved him off. "Again, not likely from a world without magic. I expect you to have cleaned this up before you get to the rest of your to-do list." He rubbed salt in the wound before slamming the door behind him.

-<🌀>-

Eugenie's drop into her new world was graceful and gentle like a light breeze was setting her on the grass. She blinked away the glare of the bright light as it faded fast and gazed upon the new world she found herself in. Floating. Islands. Everywhere. She looked down from the levitating landmass she'd been dropped off from. Nothing was beneath any of them, nothing was above them, only more islands with nothing suspending them. Each one of them was covered in grass more lively and lush than anything she'd seen in the parks and football fields she'd seen as a kid. There were many trees scattered around them all, too, looming over the smaller masses they grew from as the tips of their roots poked out of the bottoms of the clumps of soil.

Some sheep were wandering around the islands, many of which were connected by wooden, rope, or stone bridges. The last time she'd seen one was at a petting zoo when she was... five? She wasn't sure but a couple of them walked right up to Eugenie and allowed her to pet them with a giggle before determining she didn't have any treats. Some lingered and brushed against her as she wandered between the isles. Their wool was so soft and such bright white. The breeze brought the perfect amount of chill through her flowing hair and the scent of wildflowers rushed up her nostrils.

Surrounding her was a variety of small, fairly chubby people. They looked almost like moles and didn't bat an eye at her presence. Their fur was tan with some darker spots around their eyes, and they wore simple clothes like hers, even having phones made of angular shapes with some odd symbols. A few of them were wandering around, struggling to carry wooden carts stocked with goods. Most were fruits and veggies, at least one had a sack of freshly butchered meat, and the rest of their products were carefully encased in boxes. The houses were wooden and many had thatch roofs, cute and quaint. Maybe she could get one!

Eugenie pulled out her phone to Google the price of such small homes, more on reflex than the naive belief she could find an answer in a fantasy world. She got no signal, she couldn't call anyone or connect to the internet from this world and had no way back. Her heart sank for only a moment. What was she going to do? Where was she and how was she going to take care of herself? She couldn't call her parents, or even her friends...

The friends she hadn't spoken to since got sent to uni... and the parent who forced her there...

She shook off her funk and took a greedy breath of fresh air and smell of nature. She focused on the flowers, first, then the grass and dirt path beneath her feet, then the light breeze. The gentle, lovely winds felt like it was swirling and pushing her along as she walked through the small, split-apart island town and daydreamed about the air taking her far away. Her backpack felt lighter to the point she'd forgotten it was there while looking at all the sweet buildings. The first thing she'd need was a job, maybe to do a few favors. She might have lunch, but not dinner. Waiting to eat her sandwich and Snickers for dinner was an option she ruled in favor of but that didn't help the shelter issue. Here didn't seem too unsafe of a place to find a nice patch of grass to sleep on, though she wasn't going to chance it if she didn't have to.

-<🌀>-

The Library was alight with customers and their annoying kids, louder and busier than the Mabu staff were equipped to handle. They could only assume there was a school project in the area as more and more kids continued to drag their parents into the only decent and convenient library. It would pass eventually they'd just be driven mad by the yelps and shouts of disrespectful and hyperactive little siblings until then.

Next in line to crowd inside, greeted by the front desk Mabu, was an unusual girl. She'd usually blend right in with the vast and colorful assortment of characters wandering Skylands, but she stopped to address the front desk long enough to welcome a closer look. She looked a lot like Master Eon's kind, 'Human', they'd go as far as to think she might even be a Portal Master. But that was absurd; the last Portal Master to be born was Kaos.

Still, her skin was as pale as Eon's and their piercing, bright blue eyes matched perfectly. She brought a cool breeze with her into the Library, jostling some of their paperwork and ruffling her neat white button-up. Seeing a pair of jeans without the torn spots on the knees was a little strange. Her shoes were gray with very few scuffs or marks of wear, grossly well cared for. She brought with her a black backpack, also weirdly neat like it'd been regularly ironed. Her step was very bouncy and strangely easy like she was floating, only pretending to walk. If not a Portal Master, she was likely a mage of some kind.

"I-It, uh, it looks like you could use some help here!" She stumbled, quickly finding her voice. "How much is the pay here? Would you be willing to buy some books?" The girl shouldered her backpack and looked through the contents, packed full of massive books she had no right to carry so easily.

Not in much position to say no, the front desk attendant leaned to the side at a group of rudely chattering kids, then back to the girl. "You'll have to talk to the Librarian if you want to sell some books, but have you ever read to children?"

-<🌀>-

What felt like hours of falling was more likely just a split second. George's spine slammed into the soil and blades of grass fluttered onto his nose. He sneezed awake, snapping up faster than his back was prepared for and looking for the light. It was fading fast. Even if he could reach it before the light faded, it was high in the air. He was stuck looking at the underbellies of countless floating islands. He got up and looked around. Yet more islands filled an endless sky, many covered in sand, rock, and some patches of tall grass.

"W-What?" George stammered, trying to get ahold of what happened and where he was.

"Mind stepping off, kid?" Someone with a very gravelly voice cleared their throat beneath him.

George jumped out of his skin and fell back on the sand. He was left in a sitting position, propped up by the edge of the crater he'd been abandoned in. Out of the fine sand stood up a shark of all things. A pair of brass knuckles were held tight in his hands and several orange and red spots covered his back. Each foot had three large black claws and each forearm was covered in rough plates. They weren't much like armor, more like many leopard spots or rounded rectangles. His upper arms were bulging with muscle.

Despite being at the center of a meteoric impact, one George himself also somehow survived, the shark shook off some bits of sand like nothing happened. "You sure know how to make an entrance." The shark laughed off the entire thing.

"Who are you?" George yelped, trying and failing to back up the sand slope.

"Relax, kid, I'm not mad, I just want to know what happened." The shark took off his brass knuckles and held his claws hands in surrender, his many rows of razor-sharp teeth not helping his case.

He continued trying to back out of the deep crater while weighing his options, making little progress. His first option was continuing to try and escape. With how hard it was to move without taking his suspicious eyes off the walking shark, success didn't feel likely and he'd be no closer to getting back home. Secondly, he could go with this shark whose back he just plummeted onto. If he wanted to eat him, he certainly had the equipment to do so.

Unbeknownst to him, the shark's slit black eyes didn't know of the clumps of sandstone the boy pushed himself up with. Anywhere else, that would've meant nothing. Sandstone? In the desert? Preposterous! But he'd been in and out of this place dozens of times, naturally attracted by the strength of the Earth Element here. There were no sandstones this deep, all the rocks and other bigger, more solid materials were deeper than the sands. This kid wasn't just happening to grab the only pieces of sandstone this shallow in this whole island, they were forming beneath his hands.

"Do I have a choice?" George asked.

"Everyone always has a choice... I'm just asking you to make the right one." The shark shrugged.

Finally, the boy stopped struggling up the sand crater and slowly got to his feet. "My name is George..."

"Terrafin." The shark smiled, hiding his teeth. "Looks to me like you got sent here by a rift or unstable portal."

"How do I get back?" He stepped closer.

The shark sighed and rubbed the back of his cartilage. "...That... That's a great question I can't answer, but I happen to work for one of the only people who can, and the only one I can safely say will help. Master Eon is a Portal Master, he does stuff like this all the time. It's part of how we get assigned."

"Assigned for what?" The guy sounded promising but George wanted to make sure he wasn't getting in over his head. Not like he could do anything about it.

"Defending Skylands. Skylanders like me are trained to protect everyone from darkness and whatever crawls out of it." Terrafin explained.

"And how do I know they're the bad guys?" George pressed.

Terrafin flexed one of his arms, pointing to some pale scars along the dark sandpaper skin. "These are from Bone Chompies, they ambushed us on behalf of Count Moneybone while my old team and I were stopping him from paving over a village." His talons shifted down to a larger, nasty-looking gash that didn't look healed yet. "And this one's from a Death Knight dispatched by the Dark Master, Malefor, when he raided the town of Avalar for its magic crystals." The shark looked downtrodden and shut his eyes, opening them a small but tense second later. "We evacuated everyone we could and fought to the last man, but Eon had to warp us out of there before he turned us to paste on the streets."

"Okay! Okay... I believe you." George interrupted.

Terrafin picked up his chin. "Sorry, kid, didn't mean to be a downer."

The shark dove down into the sand. His dorsal fin slashed through the tan cloud as he submerged into the side of the crater and appeared right above and behind Geroge. He let a hand down and effortlessly heaved George up the side of the crater. Once at the top, he finally got a good look at the impact. The hole was easily four times his size but he didn't feel any worse than if he took a mild tumble down a somewhat steep hill.

"Yeah, portals do that." Terrafin remarked. "Unstable ones, anyway. It's more about the energy creating the crater around you than rushing into you. I'm no Portal Master but I've had more than my fair share of mishaps." The dirt shark chuckled and took a knee. He buried his massive fists in the sand. "Now, hop on my back, let's get you to Master Eon. Maybe you can help he figure out how to explain this on the way!"

-<🌀>-

Eugenie happily took the pouch of gold coins, counting them up with some quick mental math to make sure she'd gotten the amount promised. It wasn't that she didn't trust the kindly old lady running the library, she couldn't couldn't afford to take any chances.

"Thanks again for getting those rascals under control, dearie." The mole lady repeated.

"Of course, Miss!" She smiled.

"Now, I imagine someone with your talent wants to get her hands on some magic books-" The lady began.

"Huh?"

"Nobody swings around a bag like that so easily, little mage." She chuckled.

Eugenie adjusted and peered into her bag again. She had forgotten it was there multiple times. "Magic..." She whispered in astonishment. "Magic!"

The old lady giggled as she retrieved a telescope from behind the counter and pointed it to the distance. She adjusted it into Eugenie's hand so she could see a large stone structure like a wizard's home out of a fairy tale. Streaks of cyan swirled around it like a small tornado. "That there is Stormveil Stronghold. You'll love what they keep."

She gratefully thanked the old lady and headed out the door, only stopping at the edge of one of the bridges to make sure she had her eye on the right distant island. The light blue swirls made it an easy spot to lose against the unending sky. Once she was satisfied her route was clear, she fiddled with her backpack so the weight was more evenly distributed between her shoulders when a slightly raspy voice spooked her from the bridge's railing.

"I can fly you there if you want." Someone offered.

Perched precariously on the wooden rail was a sleek and lean yet muscular dragoness. Her scales were pitch black but reflected all light as a vibrant purple. The only differences were some slightly lighter-colored shapes in her shoulders and hips; a rounded diamond at the top that almost touched her collar, two trapezoids on the sides that turned it into a triangle, three very small and vaguely teardrop-shaped lines dripped down from it with two more small diamonds along the sides that went from the bottom of the triangle to the middle of the second tear. The patterns on her hips were similar but simpler. They were each a pair of triangles arranged like a diamond with four more smaller ones along the sides that turned them into six-pointed stars.

Each of her legs had some long, large, and sharp chrome talons; three on the back feet and four, including a thumb, on the front. Her underbelly had some red plating. Two large panels covered each rib, one melded the shape into her neck, and another transitioned into several layered plates running the length of her belly and tail. That tail ended in a long and sharp metallic dagger, also sort of tear-shaped but with a circular nook in the bottom edge that made a gruesome hook. Smaller hooks on either main joint of her wings glinted in the light as well, the hooked opening pointing away from her body.

She was clearly one for fancy jewelry. There were bracers on her ankles, wrists, and halfway down her tail, as well as a big collar. Each of them had a smooth and flawlessly polished base with some short spikes lining her hide. That can't be comfortable on her throat. The dragoness's eyes were bright blue like Eugenie's, slit pupils wide like a cat seeing a toy. Either side of her head has six, chrome, increasingly long horns going from the shortest on her jaw to the longest at the top of her head, all were slightly curved inward. Her snout's scales ended in a slight hook like a raptor's beak and her forehead has another barely lighter symbol. It was a circle split in thirds. The first was large between her horns and the other two were shrunken between her eyes.

"I don't want to be any trouble." She politely declined.

The dragon waved her off, hopped down to the bridge, and stretched her wings' red-pink bat-like membrane. "You won't be, I overheard your little chat and I wanna check that place out, too."

"Are you sure?" The lost girl confirmed.

"Totally. I'm Cynder, by the way. Ever ride a dragon before?" She nodded the girl onto her back, her spine had some more chrome spikes but they were pretty small and lacked the intimidating hooks.

"Eugenie." She smiled and awkwardly figured out how to climb on. "And no, never."

Cynder smiled and winked. "Just hold my horns tight and leave it to me, then."

The dragon's powerful wings thrust them high in the air with just a few flaps, leaving a faun and cheetah person in the dust before Eugenie even knew they were there. The cat quickly knocked back an arrow, pointing his bow high in the sky and honing in on Cynder. She was getting far and they both knew he wasn't going to try shooting her with a kid on her back, casting a smug little grin down at them.

"Hunter? You wanna put the bow down?" The faun asked uneasily, many eyes were on them now.

He hesitantly let the weapon drop and held the arrow in his paw, twirling it in thought. "I just wanted to warn her." He watched the girl flying away, her yell of victory and joy carrying across the wind. "Not to trust that dragon."

Chapter Text

"Pardon me! Coming through!" Hugo called to the wanderers of Skylander Castle.

He was a bit bigger than most Mabu, but that wasn't saying much. Most of the non-quadropeds still loomed over him as he wove through the thin crowd. His fur was darker than most of his kin and he wore a pair of big round glasses. Over his shoulders was a mossy green vest and in his hand was a paper grocery bag. He ran up some stone stairs between Snapshot, a cyan crocagator and leader of the Trap Masters, and Pop Fizz, a loony blue gremlin and alchemy teacher. The first was easily twice his size and covered in tough armor like a walking brick wall, the other was unpredictable enough to blow half the Keep to Kaos's Lair if one little thing went wrong, yet it was a hit to his back was what put him down.

"A very important assistant with a very important pack-OW!" He hit the ground with a thud, as did what hit him.

He looked up and adjusted his glasses, seeing a few trainees behind the sheep that'd been tossed his way. Its legs and head popped out of its dense wool and it bleated at him angrily.

"AHHH! SHEEP! COWER FOR YOUR LIVES!" He dashed away, running into the stairs' rail as a purple dragon swooped down to the sheep and yanked it in the air like it weighed nothing.

Spyro was a powerful young dragon, he and his teammates having passed every sect of the Academy on their second or third tries. Being held back a couple of times didn't sound impressive, but for Skylanders it was an undeniable feat, many taking four or five attempts. Everyone on his team was an Aspirant, also a rarity, waiting with bated breath for their passing exam scores to clear them for the brutal Final Trials that would put them in the history books as mighty Skylanders or break them at the very end.

His scales were gleaming bright purple head to toe, no notable patterns but all carefully tended to with just as many obscure products as his caretaker, Master Eon himself. His claws were sharp and pearly, able to go from gentle enough to handle the horrible sheep to bone-crushing in an instant. The Portal Master's boy was broad and muscular, even for a male dragon his age, and all of his scales smoothly overlaid each other. The plates along his underbelly were all shiny orange rounded rectangles of slightly differing sizes, smooth to a shimmer. His long snout exhaled puffs of perfectly clean white smoke.

A single pair of horns sprouted from the sides of his head and bright orange eyes. They barely spread away and behind his skull, tightened together and forward to make a thin battering ram he could put a lot of force into, and back and out again at the points. Each one looked almost segmented, with triangular tips at the top of every portion. His tail looked similar, it had three pyramid-shaped parts that could move freely with his tail. Hugo was aware of one of the dragon's extremely few low points when he got a nail stuck between two segments. That was not pretty to remove and they swore to never speak of it to Eon. Neither knew how he managed that to this very day.

The bright orange, fire-like frill atop his head fluttered in the light wind as his thin but strong wings with pearly points at the main joint flapped their orange membranes. "Hugo, chill! They're harmless!" He poorly stifled a laugh as the Mabu rushed behind an archway.

"They are not harmless, they are harmful!" Hugo shouted from his hiding place until the sheep bleated at him again with fiery rage.

And again, Hugo screamed. "DID YOU SEE THAT? TELL ME YOU ALL SAW THAT!"

The sheep looked up at Spyro with its big green eyes. It was mocking him! "Dude, get some help." The dragon brought the sheep down to Hugo's spot with him. "I-I-I don't mean one therapist, you need a team."

Hugo ran past some attendees with his package while fleeing the sheep. At least I can get them off his back. "Yo, what's happening, Cadets." He called, almost gagging at his own dialect.

Three heads turned towards him from a gremlin, a wind-up construct, and a very pretty white Crystal Dragon, rare as she was beautiful. He knew through the grapevine that she, 'Flashwing', was making the rounds for her looks as much as her skills, from pointed crystal shards and blasts of searing radiant light almost as gorgeous as she was to healing nodes and shockwaves of vitality. Not that it was why he wanted their attention, he needed to be above that, she had something going with another promising Earth Drake named Bash, anyway. Despite calling them Cadets to push his higher status, he knew she was a Neophyte. The other two, he doubted would make it to her level, but he shoved down those thoughts quickly and mentally crossed his talons for them. Best to put that type of energy out in the world, instead.

"Second try your for your years, right?" He nodded and hummed. "Yeah, just like I did. Well, not exactly like me, there's only one Spyro!" The dragon heard one of them ask for a selfie but he wasn't paying attention who it was. He'd hoped they'd take the sprinkle of attention and leave while he absentmindedly spun the sheep like a basketball, but alas...

Spyro scanned the whole trio. "Totally!" And gambled, responding vaguely to the whole group might make the one who asked step forward.

Rather, all of them got their phones out. Crap. He kept his smile up while flying to each of them and striking a pose. The attention was nice, he wasn't going to deny that, but he didn't know any of them beyond the endless blur of faces at all his parties, the one advanced math class Flashwing shared with him, and maybe a few chats and exchanges of goods for gold in the quieter halls but that was neither here nor there what are you talking about.

"If you're all done with the Spyro show, can we get back to our game of sheep ball?" Eruptor yelled from the bottom of the staircase. Stealth Elf was waiting beside him.

He and Flashwing put an arm around each other and smiled for her camera before he answered Why is she so close. "Relax! Just leaving these Cadets a little memento."

The crystal dragon thanked him profusely while he got the sheep back. It was a bit heavier on his left arm than his right, might've slept on it weird. He tossed the sheep to his right arm and masked checking the arm as a boastful flex, barely hearing Elf mutter something about 'handling this' before she appeared beside him, stole the sheep right out of his claw, and started zipping around him. Every green puff ended with the sheep bouncing off his head. She knew well there was no way for a sheep to harm him, but it was humiliating. At least the giggle when she was done was bubbly and sweet. The Cadets also laughed it off.

"Can we please get back to the game now, oh Spyro the Great?" The Lava Elemental huffed.

Spyro hopped down across from them and prepared his paws to catch the sheep. Her tunic, boots, and gloves had a lot of brown for blending in with the forest, the only splashes of color in her outfit were the brass belts tying everything together and her light green skin. Her brown bandana mask was pulled down over her collar. She stepped on the sheep's back and rested her arm on his knee while their tank complained, her shoes made it look like she had two big toes. He never understood the point of that design. Eruptor was primarily red with two big blobs of yellow and orange lava for arms. His legs were stubby, but sturdy, they kept him low to the ground and unmoveable. His face was on the front of his body with two bright yellow eyes and a wide maw connected directly to his molten gut. His (lack of a) neck was replaced by a set of short, yellow-hot spikes that acted like vents for thermal energy and bursts of lava.

"Somebody sure is grumpy." Spyro leaned in and held a paw to the side of his face as if he were trying to stop someone from listening in to their less-than-subtle banter. "Did'ja wake up on the wrong side of the volcano?"

"I AM NOT GRUMPY!"

The single spike on his head ignited with flames just before a surge of lava burst into the sky like a laser beam. It unfurled mid-air and came down like a fiery rain. Stealth Elf blipped away just before the searing flames fell on her but Spyro didn't move an inch. He breathed fire all the time, some liquid rock without any intent or focus put behind it was a warm dust bath as long as it didn't get on his face. It was like a hot water sac rolling down his spine.

"To much?" He timidly asked while Elfie reappeared.

"When the only thing deciding if we can even try the Final Trials is how good we did on that exam, yes!" Eruptor gestured wildly while the charred black sheep wandered away.

"Sorry." Spyro tried to smile.

"Guys, we're on the same team." The sheep didn't get far before the ninja grabbed it and pulled a clump of wool like a slingshot to scatter the ash stuck to its thick blanket. "Now let's grow up and go back to throwing sheep at each other."

She ended with a smirk right before the bell tolled five times and sighed. "Looks like you two just got saved by the bell." The sheep scampered off.

Spyro wasn't finished, though; she threw that thing at his face in front of a bunch of students. "So you're forfeiting?"

"No way!" She protested. "We're just saying you're making us late!" Eruptor joined.

"Us?" The elf raised a brow at the Elemental and disappeared.

"Aw, magma." Eruptor huffed while the dragon soared past him.

Since she got to embarrass him, he got to embarrass her (and Eruptor by proxy). He threw himself toward the sky, slicing through the air. The sharp segments of his tail whistled as it carved clouds out of the wind. SPYRO WINS was written in cursive above the Castle by the time he started the dive down to Jet Vac's class. He took just a second to admire his handiwork. Sky art was something he took a little pride in, every curve and line perfect. He wasn't sure where he picked it up but the constant, extremely precise motions were as refined as his real training. Only with this, everything was viewed from afar and low stakes, he wasn't preparing to fight a Dark Portal Master.

No Eon looking down at him from the peak of his Keep, no professors looking over his shoulder, no lower classes watching his every move, no Training Islands to weave through, no piles of books he had to read through by the end of the week, nothing. He took an unreasonable amount of pride in the smaller, barely noticeable streaks along the edges of the message left by the flaps of his wings. They were imperfect, flawed, and they were all his. For once, something could be bad as long as it looked enough like words. Spyro had reclaimed some of his image and left it for the whole Academy to see before gossip about Elfie's shenanigans made the rounds. Nobody cares about second place, this will do.

The wind whistled by as he descended, getting a mouthful of fresh air before circling the top of one of the towers. Stealth Elf was more than on time, she always just teleported to all of her classes heh, cheater. There was a suspiciously Eruptor-shaped hole in one of the walls and JV was already pinching the bridge of his beak. Wonderful start. The bird had bright, snowy white feathers along his face like a beard. His helmet was hilariously ineffective, it covered nothing but his forehead in a light blue plate and gray bident design on the front, between his eyes but not protecting them. It didn't even go over his beak, it stopped right at the base, why did he even have it?

Gray feathers poked out from under his massive shoulder plates. They were thick and solid unpainted metal, even the bolts could be seen. So he did know what effective armor looked like, he just didn't use any. His vest was darker blue over the chest and lighter on the sleeves; gambeson. It didn't look very tough but he knew from watching demonstrations that it was more protective than the outer layer of basic fabric made it look. Some metal lines like the feed of a machine gun rolled down his ribs into a circle with a bright cyan core. Spyro wasn't sure it had any purpose (besides looking cool) without his vacuum pack.

His shins and forearms were covered by darker material, he believed it and the darkest part of his chest to be some sort of hardened leather, covered in a pair of steel bands over the wrist and a larger plate on the knuckles. His big, bushy white brows leered at Spyro as he landed in his seat.

He forced a brief chuckle. "Let's do this, JV!"

"That's PROFESSOR JET VAC!" The old man moved to Spyro's seat faster than his age would have his enemies believe and harshly tapped his talon against the dragon's snout. "AND YOU'RE LATE, AGAIN!"

"YOU DO REALISE THAT WHEN YOU BECOME A SKYLANDER, YOU CAN'T JUST GET BY ON RAW TALENT?" Jet Vac clawed further and further over his desk. "YOU NEED TO WORK HARD AND BE AN EQUAL PART OF YOUR TEAM!"

Spyro bit back a groan while inching back in his seat, he clearly ate something like liver earlier. Logically, he knew the old bird was just assigned by Eon to make sure everyone, especially Spyro, reached their fullest potential, but having this guy in his face while hiding a headache at least once a week for years would wear down anyone's patience. I wish this was talent. "I'll call it 'Team Spyro!'" He smoothly brushed the entire thing off, there were other people watching he had to get out of his frill before they started. The two shared an equally exhausted and angry glare, neither was in the mood for the other's attitude and both had been breaking their necks leaning over stacks of papers the night before.

"CLASS!" Jet vac started right in his ear, then walked to the chalkboard and popped his knuckles. "Spyro, here, doesn't think his actions affect others. So, to show him how truly wrong he is, POP QUIZ!"

Mass punishment is legally considered a war crime. Also, the grades are already in so this is literally pointless. Spyro debated mocking as the pages (and some glares) started being passed around. Funnily enough, the classification of mass punishment was one of the questions, one he took an extra minute to answer very thoroughly.

-<🌀>-

Eon stood idly in the center of his keep. Bookshelves multiple times his size and stuffed with ancient tomes, if not rolled-up scrolls, flanked him on every side while he paced along the red carpet and up some small steps toward a raised platform embroidered with arcane symbols. They were as much holding the structure together as the stone walls. Light filtered in and out from the equally tall windows. His light blue robe with a white outline pooled behind him, the gold cuffs attached to his sleeves clicked together as he held his hands behind him, and the sash with a patch for every Element was fastened tightly under his big leather shoulder, collar, and neck guard. Some of his bright white hair drooped out the back of his six-horned chrome helmet.

There was a knock at the large wooden doors. "Enter."

It creaked open. "Sir, I have your package. There's also a letter from Terrafin, it says urgent.'" He could hear the Mabu's feet tapping along the smooth stone floor.

Eon turned to the mole-person. His long beard draped over a gen in the center of his shoulder covering. His bright blue eyes were only a little darker than the other glowing gem on his helmet. The Mabu had to hold the paper bag above his head to be at Eon's arm level. "His awesomeness Spyro is also waiting outside, as you requested." The Mabu rolled his eyes.

"Go easy on the lad, Hugo." He tried to defend the dragon, though not knowing what he did. "It's not easy growing up an orphan. We are the only family he has, you know."

The Mabu retreated, likely having some papers to file away or books to sort. Ever reliable, that one. Eon smiled fondly at his assistant while looking through the bag; his new beard spray and a letter with 'URGENT' scrawled across the front. The address was awkwardly tucked between the big letters. Spyro's fast and reckless flying almost startled him into dropping them. If it was URGENT but not enough to appear to him in person, then it could at least wait a few seconds while he addressed the dragon in the room who landed at his feet.

"Matser Eon! You called?"

"Have a seat." He ordered. Hugo's complaints were out of the way and apparently not severe enough to actually voice, so it was time for his problems. "Can you explain your final to me?"

In a blue flash he summoned the thick stack of paper. They'd tried stapling the Finals together once, but they were way too thick. There were so many giant binder clips in storage.

He could see Spyro swallow a lump in his throat but it didn't deter his usual bravado. How quickly he gathered himself was a little impressive, admittedly. "I can, but it won't be a good explanation." The dragon glanced at the front page. "I PASSED!"

All reservations at flying at full speed around the keep and landing back at the same spot were vanquished seeing the B+ written in red ink. "You passed barely above the class average."

"Yeah, but I passed." He shrunk. "Barely's a little judgy." And flew to Eon's side.

The Portal Master sighed. "Spyro, you're on the verge of becoming a Skylander. Do you know what that means?"

How much effort the Elemental Paragon put into not sagging his shoulders and rolling his eyes almost made him break character.

-<🌀>-

How much effort it took not to sag his shoulders and stare at the ground for the rest of the day almost broke him. "That I'll soon be part of something bigger than myself to keep the balance of Skylands."

"And?" Eon leaned in.

"And the Skylands will be depending on me to keep everyone safe."

The Portal Master nodded in that way that meant he wasn't done, but acknowledged a right answer. "You may have outshined your classmates again, and that may be an accomplishment, but I know you can do better than this. I know how high you've scored in other elements very well, you've had an incredible command of fire ever since you were a hatchling, and I know you're perfectly capable of getting an S in whatever subject you please, "

Master Eon nodded and gestured for him to follow along. There was a bust of his head next to one of the smallest bookcases in his whole Keep, which was still a little taller than him. He grabbed the statue by the beard and pulled it up. As the neck craned back, the bookshelf clicked and slid down to reveal... another bookcase. Eon tapped the spine of one of the top books, it was shorter than the others and had a gold band encrusted with a red gem in the center. A dim light whistled out of the gem, washing over the Portal Master's face. The case and two sets of massive steel doors split apart, yet to the left was a pillar and the end of that wall without any room for that door to slide into.

Despite this, it opened with no problem and inside was a short, curved hallway with a gentle ramp down. Spyro followed Eon down to the cellar. It was lined wall to wall with items unlike anything he'd seen before, though he'd read about and studied almost all of them in the pages of huge books. Damn near everything Eon's library spoke of was contained in this small chamber. While there was the occasional pile of gold coins, the riches paled in comparison to the likes of an iron hammer obviously used by some of the first Giants, quite likely one of the ones Chop Chop slayed when he stood among the ancient Arkeyan oppressors.

Speaking of which, there were slabs of incredibly old metal. He couldn't exactly date them but they looked plenty old enough to have been parts of their greatest war machines, possibly even some of the Elite's armor. Small chests, legendary treasures, long-lost paintings, and scrolls that radiated knowledge lined a series of small and long shelves at the very top and weapons of untold proportions covered the walls. One was a twin scimitar, the craftsmanship reminded him of Stealth Elf's favorite blades. Another wall held more grand blades once wielded by Thunderbolt and Krypt King. Yet more bore a spear that never missed its mark and a cannon that hummed with the power of a giant forge that may even melt Spyro's scales like they were naught but plastic. Across from them, slightly hidden by a support pillar was a framed schematic of the Core of Light, as well as a map to it.

"This... is the Relics Room. All of the Skylanders' most important and legendary treasures reside here. When we are not watching over the people we care for, we are preventing these from falling into the hands of evil, of those who would seek to use them. Including this."

Eon pointed to the very end of the chamber. In a brick ring around a floating wood stand hovered the Book of Skylanders, the souls of every hero they'd know bound to its pages. The cover was rich brown with a golden trim and a bright red ribbon bookmark. As Spyro approached, a subtle blue field of light shimmered like crystalline water in the low light. Even from afar and even though he'd been doing poorly in his Air and Water studies classes, the irony of the first one not being lost on him, he could feel the powerful flow of electricity crashing through the field as well.

"Should I...?" He vaguely pointed to the book. Spyro really wanted to touch it, but didn't want to tear it.

His caretaker nodded and gestured for him to go forward. The shield must not be too serious, then. At the very second the tiniest tips of his carefully sharpened claws grazed the barrier, powerful jolts of electricity soared through his paw. White-hot fire zipped along his nerves, wrapping around his bones like razorwire and jumping between his ribs like they were the copper points of a cattle prod. Spyro's muscles seized and twitched against his will. His wings flared like an open parachute and his jaw snapped shut so hard he was worried some of his teeth would break. A wave of thunder launched him away from the podium, slamming his back against the wall and sending him tumbling to the cold brick floor.

"A-A-A no w-would've been e-enough." He tried not to let the hurt frustration seep into his voice, not at Eon, he was already disappointed and the dragon didn't want to start a fight with his caretaker.

The caretaker who just chuckled at the dragon. "Never gets old."

The Portal Master reached back toward a completely black segment of wall by the door. Light wavered around the spot and revealed an invisible metal lever. When it clicked up, the field brightened and dispersed, and the book gently lowered onto the pedestal. Spyro hesitantly looked back to make sure Eon was away from the lever before carefully reaching for the book and handing it to his caretaker. Just from the short time the enchanted leather and pages of trees as powerful as they were old and gargantuan, he could feel the presence of Skylanders long forgotten to the realm and so new they haven't yet made an impact. He could feel the mechanical wings of Drobot asshole, the unyielding shield of Chop Chop BADASS, the chill of Traptanium weaponry, the scales of countless dragons before him, and plenty more space for those after him.

What chance do I have?

Eon flicked through the book as if he were holding a baby. "Upon completing the Final Trials, every Skylander is expertly drawn into this book by yours truly." Please don't- "And I've been looking forward to inscribing you ever since I found you as a hatchling." There it is... "You came into the world ready to fend for yourself. A born fighter. From the moment I earned your trust, I had a feeling deep in my bones that you were destined for greatness... For better or worse, it seems."

Spyro found an oddly simple chalice to busy himself with while Eon talked, checking his reflection. Making sure his face was indifferent and flawless, without even the slightest smudges. And he didn't want to look at Eon after that stunt, nor did he want the man to see him like this. Just smile through it.There were some purple spots on the tips of his claws that he wiped away as quietly as he could but everything was in order. Not like Eon was paying attention. "But then you took the admissions test and received the highest score ever and... I've been telling you since you were born that you were special, but now I fear I've created a monster with such grandiose notions. I can't help but blame myself for such brazen disregard and refusal to apply yourself."

"I can't help but blame you to, but I can forgive you." Spyro half-joked, more to uplift himself than engage with Eon. As if he didn't already know what he wanted to say. Nobody's put more of themselves into this than me, whether I like it or not.

Eon huffed and replaced the book before leading the way out of the Relics Room. "You need to focus and put your best foot forward if you want to reach your full potential. So stop being so full of yourself and start considering your team. Can you do this, Spyro?"

He finally broke character.

So much for fake it 'til you make it. The stone floor shattered under Spyro's talons, gaining three deep gashes surrounded by a spiderweb of cracks and sharp shards of brick. A small part of him hoped the goblet he was holding wasn't important as his paw involuntarily clenched around it, crushing the cup like crumpled paper in an instant. The three disgustingly perfect pearl tips of his talons pierced the gold like butter and stabbed into his palm, the angle being just offset enough by the effortlessly folded metal was the only reason his thumb didn't do the same to the joints of his pointer claw. His forearm and wings burned, his tail froze solid, his hindlegs made holes in the rock, and his fangs ground together with the speed and force to cast white-hot sparks over his tongue.

NOBODY WANTS THEM TO WIN MORE THAN I DO!

His back claws tugged as he pulled them out of the deep, curved gaps in the stone and he covered the sound of the chalice being flung behind one of the piles of comparatively worthless gold with the flaps of his wings as he chased Eon out. "Of course I can. I'm Spyro!" Venom swirled in his voice, barely held back by a practiced plastic smile. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER THAN THIS, YOU'RE NOT A CHILD ANYMORE. KEEP IT TOGETHER!

Eon deadpanned down to him and put a gentle hand on his wing. It took everything in the dragon's power to relax that wing. "I suggest you get home, rest, and train for the Final Trials at the end of the week, because barely passing won't cut it this time. You are to become an agent of peace and prosperity for all the Elements and those who cannot defend themselves. The threats you will face are many and the villains who seek to destroy their peaceful ways of life are powerful, and I fear their numbers are growing every day..."

-<🌀>-

Where the heck does my shadow come from?

It was a deceptively simple question Eugenie had been trying to wrap her head around for the entire day. Stormveil Stronghold's scholarly sections were vast and mostly dedicated to the likes of Aeromancy, all of which were painfully plainly added to their collection under the assumption the reader already had a lot of background on the foundations of magic. She'd done her best with what she had and what Cynder, silently skulking through every part of the library for the right tomes, brought to the table in the back of the building she'd claimed for herself, but many of them referenced famous studies she'd never heard of and similar works by great names she didn't know.

Their collection regarding the physics of shadows was equally limited. Everywhere she looked, from East to West and up to down, of all places, there was nothing akin to a Sun shining from anywhere. Most of it referred to black magic, 'the Darkness', and 'the Dark Element', anyway; none of which she had any more context for than 'the Great War' or the significance of Mount Cloudbreak. The sleep she got didn't help. The grass outside the fort was soft and not a single thing was moving around to disturb her. Sleeping outside wasn't the nightmare she feared it'd be, but the constant whistling of the castle's winds kept her up. Anywhere else, it turned out, would've been fine to sleep at.

Her new friend was of some help. She brought the foreign girl loads of massive tomes and regularly praised her ability to blaze through them all. Despite not knowing what many of them were saying besides the majority relating to Portals, her wpm hadn't shaken. It mostly had to do with start points and end points with an excessively excessive amount of extremely mathematical, impossibly precise, and very delicate calculations making it possible to visit places the caster hadn't been in the flesh before.

The library lights were dimming, as were those of the outside. She'd be asked to leave soon but didn't have a way to buy the books in her rapidly gathered selection, not that she had somewhere to store them. Tonight, she'd give sleeping outside a shot. She couldn't find much on animals but many of them were no different from fauna she'd read about and even fewer of the common ones in her area were dangerous. The only things of note were lots of birds and sheep. Cobble streets would surround her, not the most comfortable bed but there was a lot of hay lying around. Her body would need a thin barrier between her and the rock to stop it from leeching all the warmth out of her, just some practical thermodynamics to end off the day.

Cynder skulked from behind a shelving unit and stretched. She looked like a black cat prowling where it knew, and didn't care, that it wasn't allowed to be. Eugenie watched the dragon for a short moment, taking in the way she moved and interacted with her surroundings. The way she walked made more sense for a dog than a reptile, sometimes she'd even walk on her hind legs and the sharp tips of her wings instead of all-fours, her forelegs more resembling arms. That was how she carried most of the stacks of books to Eugenie's table, she often cracked her knuckles before she silently wandered off to another part of the keep like a ghost.

Her long tail swished back and forth as she moved, always barely dragging the curved tip along the carpet and cobblestone but never making a sound and never hitting anything. It followed her around more like the swishy ribbons on sticks or burning sparklers she and her friends used to write in the air with, not slithering or trailing behind her like tugging a rope with a weight on the end. Honestly, she found it a little eerie, but the dragon had been nothing but helpful the entire time. She knew she should've been more careful about trusting someone she just met, but she also knew she couldn't afford to miss out on any helping hand she could get.

"Need a place to crash?" The dragoness asked, while bouncing another book between her talons, it didn't stay still long enough for her to see what it was and it wasn't the center of her attention, anyway.

"Thanks, but no thanks, I want to walk around for a while. I need to figure out the layout." Eugenie politely declined. She could last the night by herself, she'd been doing so since the school year started, and she may need that favor another time.

Even still, the dragon smiled and settled the book into the crook of her foreleg/arm. It was black with cyan highlights. "Suit yourself, girl. I'll be back tomorrow, I gotta bail."

"See you then." They smiled at each other. The black dragon vanished behind a corner while Eugenie left through the front door as normal. She took in the fresh, cool, rushing air and found a street to explore as the shadows down the narrow alleys swelled and retreated like watching waves departing without a word.

Chapter Text

With little to do until Terrafin's letter made it to 'Master Eon', George and the lad shark took to 'swimming' through the sands. Anything to take his mind off home. Streaks of orange and brown flowed around them as the shark rapidly picked up speed. Sand washed off his shoulders and down his pants, blowing through his blonde hair and T-shirt. His laughs and howls of joy soared over the crashing waves of soil as he reveled in the absurdity and excitement of his second day in 'Skylands' in equal parts. The problem of getting back to Mom, Dad, and Maria would come quickly, but for now, he could get it all off his mind.

Or until a big blue portal opened up in the distance.

Without looking, Terrafin noted and responded to the opening of the portal. The surge of magic rapidly changed direction, changing the feeling of gravity to the side and forward as he stopped. His fin hooked over George's shoulder and lightly shoved him off the dirt shark's back so he could address the man who greeted them. He was an older person, the spitting image of a fantasy wizard complete with a long white beard and a winding wooden staff growing around a glowing blue orb.

His eyes were bright blue like his long, flowing robe with a white trim and a sash ordained with a ton of basic, color-coded symbols like leaves and gears that were partially covered by an unusual collar that draped over his shoulders. He smiled down at George, soft and unassuming like he was his grandpa. He used the staff like a walking stick but seemed to walk just fine without it, more like it was just for show. A fancy gold cuff laid on his wrist as he offered a polite hand. His grip was gentle, unlike George's. His Dad taught him well.

"I have never seen you swim that fast, Skylander." He complimented, politely acknowledging the dirt shark's existence before turning to the boy. "I presume you would be George?" The man asked.

"That's me. Master Eon?" He nodded and smiled. A friend of Terrafin's was a friend of his.

Eon nodded. "Indeed. As a Portal Master, I should be able to send you home as soon as I find what realm you're from. Does magic exist in your world?"

George shook his head. "None of this should be possible."

The way Eon sighed made his heart sink. "I'm afraid without magic, it will be harder to locate your world, but not impossible. It could take months by itself but I also have the responsibility of protecting the Skylands."

"MONTHS!?" He shouted.

"To a couple of years."

The blood drained from George's face. "A YEAR!?"

Terrafin put a hand on his shoulder. "Actually, Master Eon, there might be a way for him to make a portal home by himself."

Eon looked at the shark funny, then his eyes widened. "I see."

"What?" George looked between the two.

"Listen, kid, I've never cut through sand that easily. The last time I did was when I trained under Eon, meaning you've got something special running through you, but I'm not the one to try explaining it."

Eon nodded in agreement, stroking his beard in thought. "I don't think it's a coincidence you were sent somewhere the Earth Element possesses great presence. We are fortunate you were not banished somewhere like the Cadaverous Crypts." The man gestured them through the portal. On the other side was a wide-open room with walls of stone and bookshelves several times their size.

"Earth? Crypts?" He tried his best to keep up while walking beside Terrafin. George gazed at the countless books, glowing crystals, priceless gems, rolled-up scrolls, and stacks of papers like they could send him back.

"Please, take a seat." Eon waved his hand, summoning some small chairs in front of his desk and making several books fly off their shelves, open, and hover around him. "There is much to discuss."

-<🌀>-

Spyro sighed and flopped on his circular bed. The springs were a little too stiff and creaked but he didn't have the energy to care. His TV and games were in one corner, along with a bean bag chair, and his computer was in the other. None of them had interested him for a while. He allowed his eyes to droop and muscles to go a little limp. The awkward angle and curves of his horns made it tough to find a position where his head didn't crane in an uncomfortable position, always a little to the side or locked like he was looking down at his ceiling. Honestly, it didn't make much of a difference at night, he and Elfie could only close their eyes when they didn't want to and it made waking up easier. Trying to calm down during the day was when it became a little annoying. Not enough to make it an issue, just when he didn't feel like existing for a minute.

He snapped upright and rushed to the door when someone knocked on it. The dragon knew the difference between his squad's knocks. Eruptor was way heavier than that. It was like he was trying to break everyone's doors. This was soft, just enough to be heard if someone was awake. Stealth Elf wanted to talk. Spyro quickly used all the rest of his energy to put on a sickeningly bright but chill face and answered. Her hair was damp and she was wearing a casual brown tunic and pants, she didn't even have her binder. Someone just got back from a massive training session, was aching in places she forgot she had, was probably nursing bruises and scrapes all over, and was not being dragged outside if someone's life depended on it. Her eyes were baggier than normal and her ears were droopy; if a fire started, she put it out or die trying before letting her pinky toe outside.

"Rough day?" He smiled and quickly checked his room, making sure his closet was shut before happily welcoming her inside.

She didn't tease him for it, meaning something was very wrong. He had a dark blue cooler stuffed under his bed, enchanted with cryomancy so he didn't need to bother with melting ice, and he fished some cans of soda out. Normally, anyone drinking anything but water on his bed was getting incinerated with extreme prejudice, but this wasn't normal. Heck, she didn't even teleport to his bed! She walked over and fell face first on the mattress like an ordinary person!

Still, he couldn't help an endeared chuckle as she drowsily rolled over and sat up, her tall white socks slipped over the bedsheet, one of the only moments that brought him back to life. "Stressed out?" He offered the can.

They cracked open the cans at the same time. "Can't sleep, either. First I was anxious about the exam, now it's the Final Trial."

"The Trials in general, or the Final final one?" He clarified.

"The last more than the others, but both." She downed the soda in a few greedy gulps, crumpled it against her head, and threw it behind her. It rebounded off the wall and landed in the small trash bin he kept by his bean bag. Half-asleep and still effortlessly flawless, the dragon forcefully smiled. I wish I could do half of that.

"Didja shower or take a bath?" He took a more careful sip. With his luck, he'd be the one to splash cola all over his bed the one time he makes an exception to the rule.

"Bath. It almost helped." She leaned against the line of pillows at the back of the bed.

"Real bad, then." Spyro rested a paw over the crescent, arm-like thing of his bed. In all fairness, it looked more like a really big armchair than a bed, maybe it was.

"I already know that last trial's gonna ruin me." She lamented and clutched a knee. More likely she kneed one of the training robots' heads off than scraped it during a failed dodge. She had a fast metabolism, though, it'd go unnoticed by the morning.

But oh boy, that last trial. NINE trials to become a Skylander was considered a bit much by those taking them and about enough for Skylanders. One for a Supercharger of the Aspirant's choice, seven for simulated enemies of every Element besides the Aspirant's, and the last one. The obstacle course was easy for those with wings, he knew Elf had the chopper Supercharger down like it was part of her body, but the constant onslaught of enemies during the real trials was completely deranged.

Every Elemental trial had automated foes of the corresponding Element, of course, and tons of different roles from tanks to rangers to supporters to melee damage. From loads of preset combinations, themselves having a randomized assortment of tactics, three waves were constructed per trial. Some Light and Dark enemies were sprinkled in as the score system dictated, whatever upped the difficulty the most or gave the most data on what enemies the Aspirant struggled with; it was some point-based calculation the Eon could influence from his podium mid-Trial, Spyro didn't understand it, nobody beneath seasoned Skylanders was allowed to look under the hood.

Most attempted Skylanders were either weathered during the middle of those seven segments or made it all the way to the end, just to get wrecked by the Ninth Trial. That one's over-the-top brutality was that of legend from the Students to the victors. Granted, making legends was the point. The Final Trial was a five-wave battle made up solely of the drones, tactics, and Elements the Aspirant struggled the most with. It was the very last hurdle preventing them from becoming Skylanders, and it acted like it.

"You waiting for there to be tons of tanks at the end?" He made an educated guess. She was quick and hit hard, heavily armored and naturally resilient targets had been the bane of her existence since the beginning. Come Winter, facing those guys back-to-back almost got her to quit several times. A warm hug from Eruptor and a nap got her to reconsider long enough for the season to change and her energy to return, though.

"I already know there will be." She sighed.

Spyro chuckled again and finished his drink. He tossed it to the can without trying any fancy trick shots. "Remember when Rattle Shake gave a class on subduing minor threats?"

"The part about chokeholds, pins, or practicing aiming for arms and legs?" She sat upright.

"The first one. He told us to use less force than we think we'll need, right? You don't need to crush bone to close a windpipe." The dragon reminded her while pouncing to her side of the bed and putting a wing around her shoulders.

"I'm the ninja, I'm the all-damage, all-the-time one, you guys are supposed to count on me to bring the big guys down quick." Stealth Elf huffed but leaned into his membrane.

He nodded and smiled patiently. "We do, and you will." He nuzzled the ton of her head like a cat before realizing what he was doing and yanking his head away. "By pulling your punches. Night Shade's lectures... I can't remember which one- He said something similar, that haymakers will only get you so far. Don't use as much force. I juggle other threats while I wait for the big guys to give me an opening, then get some easy swipes in and back off. Weaken their stance, first, and then you'll only need one big hit to take them down. It saves energy and forces them to follow your lead."

"Is that how you got the high score for the Shadow Knight and Haunted Guard sim?" She turned and finally smirked.

"A magician never reveals his secrets." Spyro smirked as well and held a finger in front of his snout.

Elfie chuckled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Sy, you always know what to say."

The far wall suddenly became very interesting. "I really don't."

He'd been hoping she was feeling better enough to hit him with something witty, but his slit amber eyes lowered to see hers lightly shut and his chest felt her breathing even out. With one last gentle grin for the day, he carefully lifted her head off of him, knocked one of the pillows over, slowly lowered her, and fetched a blanket from the closet. He and the Lava Elemental knew better than anyone how light of a sleeper she was, save for during Winter when she was too out of it to do much else. His wings flared to prevent the light from seeping through the window and deflecting off the green wrapping paper covered in shiny Life emblems and a darker green velvet ribbon, or the Fire and red one stacked on top of it, both tucked in the corner of the closet.

Spyro and Eruptor, who didn't wear clothes, just used their closets for storage. His had plenty of blankets, towels, and pillowcases for anyone who asked (along with a few notebooks and party supplies for special occasions), Eruptor's had a bunch of dusty old cookbooks he'd been meaning to sell to save up for one in particular. But they never went into each other's closets without asking. Elfie was the one who was very private about it, as the only one in the squad who wore anything, but the habit seeped over to each of the boys, so it was the best place to hide his surprises.

Not even the closet door made a sound as he closed it. Turning the knob before shutting doors and lightly turning it back to normal was a trick he learned fast for sneaking around Eon. He gently shut the curtains and did the same trick to his door while quietly heading downstairs to tell Eruptor to keep it down. Another hack he figured out was keeping his talons off the floor. It felt weird and made traction tough during snow days, but he managed.

Their main protector was also looking down as he wandered around the kitchen. "Steak for dinner, tonight."

Spyro shoved down his celebration. "Elfie's taking a nap. Something on your mind, big guy?"

"Yep." He sighed vaguely while flipping through the small, spinnable stack of wooden plates holding various spices.

"Which Trial?" Spyro cut to the chase.

Eruptor patted the back of his head like he was rubbing his neck. "The Supercharger one."

"Ah." He'd always struggled with agility tests, which was to be expected. The Superchargers were meant to help with that, but not everyone was a high-speed chaser. "Too fast?" Spyro perched on the counter. He knew the practice they'd done with racing games gave Eruptor the extra push he needed to pass, he just needed to convince the Elemental.

"I'll never understand how you and Elf do it." He chuckled.

"Who says you need to?" The dragon smiled, getting his hand swatted away from the cookie jar despite the circumstances. "The Superchargers only go nitro if the pilot's Element matches its Elemental Crystal, riiiiiiiight?"

Eruptor lifted a brow. "How's that gonna keep me from plowing into a wall?" Says the only one who can do that and walk it off.

"It's not, and that's the point. Don't use the Hot Streak. Pick a car so you don't have to deal with the extra dimension. If I were you, I'd go for the Thump Truck; it's easy enough to handle, doesn't go too quick without its nitro, and still fast enough to beat the time limit and let you make a mistake or two."

Eruptor mulled it over while sprinkling something on the raw steak (never taking his eyes off the cookie jar, tragically). "I'll give it a shot tomorrow. Thanks, pal."

"Anytime! You can come to me if anything else comes up!" Anything at all. Spyro gave Eruptor a thumbs up with his left paw, not the one he'd 'gently' held the Relic Room chalice with, and left out the door.

The Lava Elemental side-eyed the dragon as he departed. What's wrong with his paw?

-<🌀>-

The skies were clear and the weather warm, but Spyro's head was still throbbing and unclear as ever like he was watching the islands pass him by through foggy glass. All the shapes were there, if a bit blurry and they got worse when his eyes tried to shut, and all the colors were distinguished, though they melded and swirled together at the ends. Yet everything there felt distant. Not because they were far away from him, but because they looked like a random picture buried at the bottom of an old, forgotten, dust-covered box no matter what angle he tried to get on them.

Flying got his heart racing, pumped blood through his wings and head, but felt more and more like a chore the longer he did it. The same thing happened with drawing, the same thing happened with playing guitar, the same thing happened with sheep ball; the novelty wore off and they were reduced to going through the motions. His paw's aching made him feel more than diving between rocks did. Granted, that wasn't a good feeling, but it was better than nothing... I think... His right wing stung as he turned. The two main joints at the base of the webbing and between the wing and shoulder burned like something was grinding between them.

The frontal membrane stretching from his right shoulder to the final joint stung like a painful cold mixed with a burn. Nobody was watching, nobody was paying the purple spot of color zooming over the Academy and Magic segment any mind, so he allowed himself to feel and wince at the pain for only a split second. Not for long, he had to be better than that, but there was an odd kind of relief in letting his face fall and twitch for only a second. Knowing this, his left wing would follow suit when he turned again, so he searched for somewhere to land without returning to his team's house.

Eruptor knew something was off, he had to. Elfie was tired and beat up, but he was lingering on his every word while keeping him away from the cookie jar. The Lava Elemental would've seen how he changed his posture and shifted his weight. He'd have to lay low for a minute, just long enough for the small amount of blood to dry up. And he knew just the place. While the majority of the Skylanders' Castle was the same large landmass, there was a decent assortment of smaller islands caught in their sphere of influence. Most, like the one he and his team's house was on, were reserved for Skylander housing. Those who were the first line of defense for the cadets deeper inside. They dwelled right on the edge of the main island, but he knew of one grassy rock overseeing the fortress.

On queue, his left wing began to sting as he climbed in altitude and entered a downward spiral, keeping the pressure off of his wings while he glided down to the soft grass. The grace with which he stopped was practiced for days on end over the course of years. Not a joule of energy, not a fraction of momentum, was wasted. Even with his wings failing him, he got down to just the right height to simply stretch his legs to their normal length to stand still. It'd taken him over half a decade to get the timing just right. Showing off lost its charm a long time ago. Probably for the best.

Spyro hit to dirt with way less beauty. Nobody was around. Nobody was watching. Nobody to witness. He let out a heavy sigh and rested his head on a patch of flowers. Some trees and bushes and flowers obscured him from any wandering eyes, be it from bored Students to attentive Aspirants, even when he was on the very edge of the island. His orange horns and eyes peered over the ledge, watching the islands far below him. They were all as uninteresting and unremarkable as the magnificent castle itself. Some were barren boulders floating along, others were lush with grass, but this was one of the only ones with a significant amount of trees.

His mini-forest was unfortunately dry. In other parts of Skylands and other seasons, there might've still been cold dew clinging to the grass to chill the aching. Another part of him was grateful for it. He'd have his chance the next morning but without the wind chill. The Spring was forgiving enough, for now. He tried to smell the flowers, the scents got nothing out of him. He tried looking back at the small forestry, the gentle fluttering of their leaves got nothing out of him. He tried admiring the full majesty of the Castle, the view got nothing out of him. He tried staring at the flow of magic through the Water Element segment, the rippling reflections got nothing out of him. I might as well have stayed in bed.

Right now, Spring brought them somewhere strong in the Life and Magic Elements. Master Eon always made sure to carefully handle the powers of the Arena to account for the shifting winds of magic, meaning he and Stealth Elf wouldn't get an edge when their Trials came. Eruptor would have a field day come Summer, though. He may have been of the Fire Element, but Earth also sufficed. Autumn sucked for him and Elfie; not only getting colder, but the Castle would be teleported somewhere Undead and Tech was strong. Then Winter, with the move to Air and Water-aligned places, ruined the year right at the end and started the new one off at rock bottom.

Eon did his best to bring the Castle to areas strong in both Elements selected for each season, but it wasn't always possible when they had to keep the position secure. Sometimes the Winters when he couldn't find spaces protected to his standards were tolerable, they had to settle for somewhere with one stronger Element or the other, that way he and Elfie only had to deal with the wind chill or freezing water. He already knew this coming Winter wouldn't be one of those, the last one was spent entirely in one-or-the-other spaces, odds were they'd be destroyed at the end of the year. As if waking up wasn't hard enough... I need a space heater.

A big black blur rushed right in front of his face for a fraction of a second. He snapped upright, feeling a crick in his neck as he did. How long had he been here? It didn't matter, something was here with him, someone was watching. Streams of light red and chrome traced the blur as it dove into the trees. Their leaves didn't shift, no branches fell from the canopy, not even the birds fled their nests like the blob melded into the bark. A darkness shifted through the brush, not displacing a single leaf or snapping the most minor twig.

The glint of platinum creeped out of the shadows right as he took the breath to call out to it. His stance softened and head tilted as a black dragoness appeared. Her bright cyan eyes were wide with innocent curiosity but her composure never faltered. Her steps were as smooth as her glistening black scales and the dark gray patterns that seamlessly blended the texture, but he could feel they weren't natural. He somewhat recognized the symbols on her shoulders as those put on altars, they needed to be paired with other forms of magic like power sources and conduits to perform well. A dragon was all of the above, but he'd done well enough in his Magic classes to appease the Portal Master to know brute-forcing the process would backfire and likely kill her. But how she managed this was a question for another time.

Her horns, talons, and chest stood out to him much more. Through time and experience with the countless figures moving in and out of the Academy, he'd gathered a small list of peculiar traits. It was rare to find a set of horns or talons whose shine could even come close to his. Save for the duller ridges along his back, Spyro's amber horns and pearl claws were without equal... until now. The tips of her wings and tail were curved but shone and simmered with power just like his own. Her spinal ridges even dared to surpass his own. While all different from his own, specifically the circular notches in them like small meat hooks, the curves were the same. They were even the same size besides the ones on her wings.

But those plates on her chest... Off the top of his head, the only Skylander he knew had anything similar to his tough shields was Whirlwind, and hers were more of a mutation resultant of her hybrid heritage; a bug, not a feature, their roughness and visible grooves like treebark were a reminder. But this dragon's plating was smooth and as shiny as his. They weren't armor, they were grafted to her hide. They weren't a defect, they were perfectly symmetrical and arranged in a way that guarded her organs without inhibiting her breathing. Her piercing eyes glossed over him the same way his did, calculative.

"You're an Elemental Paragon!" They blurted and their eyes widened at the same time.

-<🌀>-

From a young age, she'd learned to fear storms.

The loud sounds seared her sensitive ears and the freezing rain battered her without mercy. How the clouds darkened, weighing heavy on her shoulders just from the little elf looking up, it haunted her nightmares all the way to becoming a Neophyte. Although the kindly tree that raised her from a baby did its best, from dripping sap on her helpless lips to clumsily teaching her to walk with very literal stick figures manipulated by vines, there was only so much it could do. It had no mouth to whisper lullabies or a warm body to hold her against when the rain began.

One of the most terribly vivid memories she had, as well as the very earliest, was her first hurricane. She was still learning to walk between roots without leaning on anything when the trees around her swayed until they cracked, when lightning blinded her, when thunder deafened her, when the energy shattered massive oaks she'd known and loved her whole life like they were towers of sawdust, and the skies darkened. It was suffocating. The static clenched around her tiny body and winds whipped around her short blue hair before she knew what blue was.

Rocks that the tree had taken great care to remove from its vicinity were violently launched to its roots and fallen branches, working together with the splinters to peel open her then-soft feet and hands when she fell over. Mud mixed with crimson as the ferocious air jammed her head and shoulder against her caregiver's bark. The woodchips stuck to her skin from head to toe, many burying into her belly and between her ribs.

A mesh of branches grew and creaked like long, bony talons closing around her, forcing her into a small crater in the bark. It was the home of a friendly fox who loved to try making her chase it around the winding woods. The bright orange creature had never succeeded, but she distantly knew she'd never before encountered something that stopped it from trying. Its kits were huddled into its damp tail and its white-tipped ears were pinned against its head. The fur along its spine stood on end, tall and sharp as the wide eyes watching her tumble into the burrow.

The ground beneath them shifted as the tree adjusted. It usually propped itself up with its root, making an upside-down treetop beneath it as dense as they were sturdy. Covered in sharp brambles before she came along, many of the smaller, upper roots weren't buried so they were quick to tend to her as needed; several swatted away larger animals, helped her stand, and carried her wherever needed. Now they were stabbing into the ground and slithering through the mud to create a barrier between the drowning waters and their suddenly expanded hideaway. It had begun pooling around her and the foxes until a net lifted them up with the tree and more roots and branches covered the exit.

The fox left its babies for only a second to grab her by the shivering skin of her bare, lightly bloodied side and drag her to the furthest wall. No matter how she and the babies buried their faces in the shaking fox's wet tail, no matter how she grabbed and covered herself, nothing could stop the ruthless winds blasting between the flimsy barrier of leaves the tree tried desperately to hide them with, nothing could stop the thorns and sharp pebbles flying between the gaps, nothing could stop the hail from shooting through the twigs like bullets before she even understood wooden weapons, nothing could overcome the sounds of animals drowning in mud and flash floods before she knew water could come from more places than her tree or the nearby river, nothing could stop the bright flashes of light blasting through their cover, nothing could warm them as water poured from the sky and directly into her fresh wounds, nothing could save them.

Stealth Elf snapped awake. All her muscles were tensed, stinging like she'd been pulled from a fire. Her breaths were ragged and her lungs felt full of smoke. The Forest Elf's bed was soaked down to the too-stiff springs, she could only hope it was just sweat. She remained there for a few more minutes before getting up and peeling off her sheets and pajamas. Knowing she wasn't getting back to sleep, she grabbed her tunic and skirt from the closet on the way to the community laundromat.

Someone's following me. Stealth Elf shuddered. Their footsteps were covered by the pitter-patter of rain at the windows, along with the occasional thrum of distant thunder and spark of lightning. Some small hail was scattered around the outside path after they rolled off the road's cover, they looked like someone poorly salted in preparation for the huge bout of snow scheduled for the end of the week. Spyro had been as excited for it as he was dreading the mornings. At least it soothed her muscles as she stuffed the bundle of fabric into one of the washing machines. She couldn't wait to become an Aspirant, she'd have the washing machine all to herself.

"Stella?"

Spyro's voice was deep and groggy. He had a few blankets draped over his wings, one of his wing spikes stabbed through the corner of one of them, and another was tied around his neck to make a pouch full of hand warmers pressed against his throat and chest. Light gray smoke was rising out of his nostrils and his mouth was gently glowing with orange light.

"Don't call me that." Stealth Elf growled.

He barely even responded. His half-lidded eyes blinked slowly. "What about Elfie?" She didn't answer. "I heard you get up, everything fine?"

"...Too cold... n' loud..." She muttered before jumping at a particularly close crack of thunder.

The small dragon, of course, didn't even flinch. He was barely over half her size. "I can crash on the couch if you wanna borrow my bed."

Stealth Elf pressed her back against the thrumming washing machine and slid down to the floor. "What're the odds we're getting back to sleep?"

He chuckled and adjusted his blanket cloak. "Fair."

"The vending machine down the hall got fixed, want anything?" Spyro offered and jabbed his clawed thumb behind him.

She snapped forward and grabbed the foreleg that was still on the ground "No! No... don't leave, please..."

Spyro froze up for a long minute but walked to her side. She was a little heavy for him back then, but he wrestled her onto his back and pulled her away from the shaking washing machine. The noise may keep them up, but it wasn't like they'd be able to sleep. "I wasn't really hungry, anyway." He lied and wrapped her in a wing and the blankets so she was leaning against the dozen hand warmers, too. The young elf curled up with her knees against her forehead and arms wrapped around her shins, she could feel his heartbeat through his tough scales and his toasty warm breaths through the bottom of his lower jaw as he rested his chin on the back of her head. At least she could always count on him.

Stealth Elf woke up in Spyro's bed and rubbed her eye. She was the only one who never let her live that night down, she didn't even know if Spyro remembered it. He still did good on the test, because of course Spyro didn't join them in the library for three days straight. The reason he never brought it up and her own gripes with his effortless passing aside, they were both half-dead the next day, obviously, but Stealth Elf was the only one who showed up to class. Spyro spent a lot of that morning on the computer, she didn't know what for until two days later. No matter what, nothing stopped the most exasperated, frustrated face Jet Vac could pull from being burned into her mind. At least he hadn't gotten us pinned to the wall with pop quizzes, yet.

Chapter Text

The black and purple dragons circled each other like dogs chasing each others' pointed tails, taking in every detail. Every smooth scale, every sharp edge, every muscle. She was visibly muscular, though leaner than Spyro, a little quicker. Their horns shone in the light and their polished scales glistened with all the care put into every individual piece like they'd freshly molted. The dragoness was first to stop, she sat on a flower patch and curled her tail around the flower stems, cutting some of them with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Neither the thickest stems or finest grass bent beneath the blade, they scattered in the light breeze without any resistance.

"Take a picture, it'll last you longer." She smirked and raised the back of one paw beneath her chin and half-lidded eyes.

Spyro's face heated up but he waved off the remark quickly, something else was on his mind. "Master Eon's never talked about our kind, I was starting to think I'd never find one of you!"

"Name's Cynder." She smiled and lowered her paw. "My Dad's the same way, everything's either vague or not worth his time." Cynder rolled her eyes.

His heart dropped, but he didn't let it show. "It feels like everyone but one of us goes through the Academy. I'd bet my tail there was a chompy enrolled at some point."

Cynder chuckled and stretched, twisting her body. She was very flexible. "I didn't think anyone else came to this island." Her demeanor changed. It was only a little more serious, still a bit flirty and smug with a slightly deeper undertone. Her voice was light on the ears and a bit rapsy, sweet, appearing playful but making it clear she wanted some answers.

"I don't usually come up here this early." Spyro shrugged. He did his best to match her shift and add an extra casual touch. People tended to respond well to mirroring but he hated his genuine voice, it sounded too somber to him. But it didn't have to be real, just effective, putting on a brave face hadn't failed him before.

"Oh!" She mocked a gasp and put a paw on her chest. "Is that Skylander drama I hear?"

He faked a laugh. "Not that interesting, just a big test coming up, soon."

"So the Final Trials are at the end of the week?" Cynder caught on quickly, her eyes barely narrowing. Nobody was supposed to bring it up earlier than three days before the Trials, that way it was difficult for anyone from the Dark to plan anything. In his defense, he didn't say that.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that." He turned up his nose and basked in the warm light. "How do you know about this island?"

Her bright cyan eyes squinted to a glare. "I've been watching from afar for years, seeing your best warriors come and go until I could find the perfect opening to gut the inside of that old man's Keep for the map to the Core of Light and bright an eternal darkness down on all of Skylands..." She held the fiery sneer, then quickly softened. "I like to watch the fights."

"Okay, you had me for a second there." Spyro's laugh was higher and quieter than he wanted it to be. Less of a boisterous and triumphant holler, more of a giggle.

"That's your real laugh?" Cynder smiled brighter than his scales and brought up a claw to poorly mask her face.

He rushed to sit upright. "How do you know I wasn't being polite?" His chest puffed out but she didn't even humor him.

"Because you're fake as fuck." Cynder deadpanned. "But it's a nice laugh!"

Spyro stumbled back. His eyes went wide and he tripped over his own tail, bashing his back on a soft white flower bed. The dragoness wasn't done with him, she rushed forward with speeds just under what she managed with her wings using nothing but one bound with her hind legs. She bounded right over him while he was down before somersaulting over the flora, rolling onto her belly, and staying low to the ground. That dumb grin she gave knew exactly what she was doing to him. Mischief and smug confidence burst from her bright eyes and twitching tail.

He needed a moment to process it. Compliments were crossing the line! It was unnatural! He hadn't even done anything! If she'd been watching from here, she didn't know whose kid he was! Had she seen him fight in the arena or move through the training islands? It took her a minute to truly observe him so she couldn't be that familiar with him. Maybe she was planning something? No, she was just a random dragoness with an interest in the protectors of the realm. It was probably sarcasm, he wouldn't slip up like that again.

"I-I-It's not that g-great." Spyro stumbled over his words but eventually brushed off the whole thing.

"Whatever you say." She rested her head on her palm.

"I-I mean it! It's nothing special." He insisted. His heart picked up the pace and his face burned brighter. Butterflies tickled his stomach and a warmth filled his core, neither of which he'd known since he was a fledgling. Was it when he got an A+ in Magic Studies? The exact topic escaped him, but it was a pat on the back for one of his classes and a gentle smile for an A in another, not to mention his entry exam score. Many of his classes have fallen short since then, this had to be a trick.

Her expression softened and head tilted for a fraction of a second, she returned to her smug and dismissive self in the blink of an eye, leaving him to question what he saw.

Cynder snorted a dark cloud. "So, what's being a Skylander like?" She prowled closer, her claws dividing the blades of grass down the middle like she was splitting arrows.

This was his chance to hype up the Skylanders! Eon would be so happy to have her beside them! "It's... not for everyone..." SHIT!"I-I mean, it takes a lot of commitment. Even if you get accepted beyond a Student, there's a ton of pressure to become strong enough quick, the learning curve's steep and most don't make it past the Cadet stage." Really selling it, moron. "But you, uh, you're part of something bigger than yourself! You're part of a team fighting for the greater good! Everyone is counting on you to do the right thing and protect the innocent, everyone who can't look after themselves!" He pumped his fist. Way to read off a stupid script. No wonder I was just an egg in a forest, Drobot was right.

His claws were starting to dig into his paws by the time he could look Cynder in the eyes, her smug face hadn't changed in the slightest. "Now that was hard to watch."

"N-No idea what you're talking about!" He swallowed.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you're not blushing through your scales." She chuckled and approached. "In fact..."

He stepped back, almost falling over again but he caught himself with his tail and an awkward flap of his wings. It wasn't nearly enough to get away from her. Too close! She walked on the tips of her wings, they pierced the flowers like their stomata were the centers of bullseyes, and one of her talons lightly grazed his cheek. Too close! He let out a heavy breath he didn't realize he was holding when she pulled away with no problem, just for his lungs and heart to freeze again as she stared at the smidge of violet smeared along her platinum claw with another soft grin on her face.

Cynder took a small whiff of the makeup. "Not as expensive as I thought." Then turned back to him, spying on the small hint of pinkish energy flowing beneath the cleaned scales. "Haven't met a guy so good at color matching, either." The only (coherent) thing Spyro could do was cover the exposed splotch, everything else was a bunch of sputtering and choking on nothing.

The dragoness's big laugh shook him out of it. How was her natural laugh so hearty and resonating from her chest compared to his? "I-I-It's just holding a bunch of colors up to your face until something sticks, you're the one making it sound impressive."

"Yet so many get it wrong." She smiled and got in closer again. Her breath was cool and smelled of fresh, clean rain, mixed with a slight buzz dancing across his scales like static. A shiver went down his spine as he backed away. Her wings popped as they flared and she reared back on her hind legs. They were spindly and a little bony, the joints were a little too pronounced, not like his thin but healthy ones. "There's a storm a few days away, wanna ride it and talk?"

She wants to hang out? talk about our heritage. "I have... something I need to do for the Trials, but can we meet up here tomorrow?" I have my own questions.

Cynder shrugged and folded her wings. Their sharp tips stabbed deep into the soil. Even technically on all fours, she felt way bigger than him. "See ya then...?" She raised a brow.

His mind lagged behind him for a painfully long second. "Oh! My name's Spyro!" That used to everyone knowing your name? Nice going, narcissist.

"See ya around, Spyro." Cynder smirked and took flight in the blink of an eye. She's pretty good at that.

-<🌀>-

"Was Spyro acting weird to you?" Eruptor asked the second she walked out of the dragon's room.

Stealth Elf rested a hand on her hip and teleported before him. "Can't even wait for me to wake up?" She smirked.

The Lava Elemental didn't return it. Either something set him off, which was common but he'd just been finishing his dinner when she stirred awake, somebody would've had to come to their house to annoy him and she would've heard the doorbell; or he wasn't playing around. "He looked fine to me." She grabbed a plate, blinked to the kitchen counter, and reappeared at the dinner table with her utensils and some napkins.

"He was relying on his left paw a lot." Eruptor hummed like it explained anything.

"I thought he was ambidextrous." She cut off a piece and readjusted her long ears while he took his plate to the sink. He'd gone easy on the spices tonight, that wasn't like him.

"I think he learned to use both, but he prefers his right. Anyway, he rested on his right and waved his left around after you went to sleep." He elaborated.

"Are you sure he wasn't just mixing it up? It's not like he never uses his left paw." Stealth Elf remarked.

He paused and shrugged it off. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"We're just on edge, we'll all be acting off by the end of the week. Spyro hasn't needed anyone worrying about him before." She reminded him. It was always a bit annoying, how he breezed through all their classes, but at least he could look after himself.

-<🌀>-

The light was starting to dim by the time the arena was free for Spyro. Every seat was empty and most of the drones had been repaired. The console beside the gate was where they prepared their challenges. He turned a dial on the left to crank up the difficulty. It didn't go all the way up to the Trials' levels, that way they couldn't spend time getting used to the attack patterns before taking the test, but the Protophyte and Aspirant levels were more than enough to be dangerous. Cadets and Neophytes were barely allowed to watch their upperclassmen friends go through such training.

These things didn't pull their punches, their blades were better balanced, their hammers had more mass, their spears had longer range, and their Elemental cores had more potent fuels. He set the challenge for an endless, ruthless push of melee Tech combatants, shuffling their armaments between swords and axes and mauls. After a few rounds and a random number generator, he'd told it to mix in spears, brawlers, daggers, and lances. He wouldn't know exactly when they'd show up, just that the coin would start flipping after the third wave, nor did he know which type of unit would be sent into the fray.

He selected Tech as their Element and dashed for the center of the arena. His bones ached and muscles cramped. The first match was a basic warmup to the Elites, but an ordeal in its own right to any pre-Skylander. While he didn't give himself any timers and kept the max amount of drones per wave pretty low, he added a buff effect that overflowed the arena with a mending spell. Everything would drag on, everything would keep getting back up after he gored them on the ends of his horns, never to sit still until they were drained of oil.

Most levels had the drones' weapons equipped with foam covers like the Cadets and Neophytes were being battered with stiff pool noodles, but Protophytes to Skylanders had the option to remove them under supervision. It was supposed to send the record to Eon instantly, rather than the monthly document of all the scores for the special edition newsletter, but he figured out how to block the transmissions. Originally he just did it after training sessions to hide his abundant failures from Eon; he knew and didn't care that they were designed for recruits to follow a set, linear path from the hardest of their previous year up to the easier of their new class, he had to be stronger than them.

Then he became a Protophyte with the ability to remove the foam with restrictions and figured out he could work right under Eon's nose by disabling it first. The Portal Master got on his case more for not using the training arena at all, but the occasional daytime session flying through the middle levels got the awe of the Cadets and Neophytes while reducing Eon's talks to disappointed sighs. Not the best, but the Elemental Paragon could deal with it as long as all he saw was the perfect win streak.

And so, with the session prepared and drones being teleported into the arena with reckless abandon, the swords began swinging and hammers started crushing. He dashed between opponents and sprinted across the sandy ground, he bounced off the tan stone walls and glided over heads. His warmup involved the tips of his claws being clipped by more moderately dulled blades than most, but he hadn't gotten this far by going easy on himself. Every failure, even the smallest slipups, was met with a brutal hit, his punishment for letting Skylands down. If he couldn't power through this, the he deserved the blow. And if he didn't make sure he earned the position as a Skylander, then he deserved to go through this again and again and again until he got it right.

Spyro rounded up the four large, clockwork golems wielding longswords into a ball by gliding around their heads. It was a pretty simple exploit in their programming; their tracking was incredibly precise and included a predictive targeting system after the Neophyte levels, but going in circles caused them to clump together. They swung their weapons quickly, but he'd gotten used to the patterns. He only allowed himself a few swipes to refresh himself on their patterns, then forced himself to stand still before them.

The four prepared their swords quickly, raising them high above their heads and swinging them down with great force. He flapped his wings and kicked his hind legs, flinging himself backward. Cynder disarmed his way too easily; he wasn't sure what about the slender dragoness threw him off so badly, he was also lying, he'd never seen one of his own kind before, but almost falling over once was too much to ignore. He tripped over nothing once and barely caught himself the second time.

Over and over, he narrowly back-stepped the drones' swords at the last second. His wings were already cramped up and his legs never got a proper rest after the whole day of sitting through classes that were a little too long just to constantly walk or fly the rest of the day. But he didn't let it stop him, he had to get the hang of this. How was he going to become a Skylander if he couldn't even backstep? If he couldn't pull this off, then why was he even here? If he couldn't do this, why did he even bother? Why did anyone bother with him?

How could he do this if he couldn't even dodge the sword that dragged along his forehead? How could he keep pace with the Dark's flying minions when he couldn't even move his wing away fast enough to keep the end from being slapped by the point of a sword? How could he do this if it took him ten minutes just to drain all the oil from the four and start the next wave? How could he protect anyone when he wasn't even good enough to dash away from some non-serrated sawblade axes? How could do this when he couldn't get away from the electrified spears without taking a hit right to the gut? How could he defend the Core of Light when he couldn't even predict the massive warhammer that slammed into his spine and sent him crashing to the sand? Even if those things were spring-loaded to lessen some of the damage, he couldn't even do that much for his team.

How could he pull Elfie out of a life-or-death situation if he couldn't even throw himself out of the way of a surprise dagger-wielding, glorified stick figure jabbing him in the side? How could he do this if he couldn't even back away from multiple clockwork gears to his snout? How could he watch Eruptor's back when he wasn't even tough or fast enough to handle a sentinel battering his forelegs with a pair of spinning, whisk-like maces on the ends of its polearm as he raised them to protect his face? How could he do this when his horns and claws needed multiple hits just to bring down the medium targets? How could he cover a group of evacuating civilians when a single Tech brute could grab him by the tail and throw him away? It didn't matter how many times he flipped around to land against the wall on his feet and pounce back into the fray, those would be lives at stake.

If every second he stood saved another life, as Chop Chop would repeat in his lectures, then he was inviting them to be trampled en mass. Skylanders stand, Skylanders inspire, Skylanders fight, Skylanders knew what to do, Skylanders were worth the adulation given to them, and he was failing at all five. If he could barely get out of bed for a shower, if he couldn't handle the swarm of drones long enough just to prevent himself from being surrounded and pummeled, then he was worthless.

And he couldn't.

He couldn't stand tall for the people he was supposed to protect, he couldn't even protect himself. The drones pulled all of the most basic, by the books, one of the first things they learned about encircling and flanking maneuvers. Spyro's horns got tangled in and tore out wires, his talons slashed open oil lines, his knuckles bent metal skeletons, and his teeth pulled weapons out of their clamps. But in the end, he failed. One of them poked a spear into the crook of his ankle. The copper nodes bounced off his scales, as did golden sparks and bright blue arcs, but the external wiring and electrical coils got caught. It pulled his leg from under him on the return swing and while Spyro stayed upright for a second, it gave one of the saw-axe drones an opening.

He couldn't inspire his team. He was gnashing his teeth and swiping his claws at whatever was close with only the barest idea of a strategy. Prioritizing defense, he swatted away the spears and daggers, sending many of them flying right out of their wielders' hands. He caught swords, gaining shallow gashes between his index claws and thumbs even from the greatly dulled edges, and used them to prop himself up. When her gripped the blades and hauled himself to his hind legs to continue the fight, the hammers put him right back down. Their shock absorbers may have prevented injury, but the weight and sudden stop from hitting the ground kept him on the floor like a discarded punching bag. All he had then was the segmented tip of his tail to smash and stab whatever opening he could find through the sand in his eyes, mouth, and the constant mechanical whirring drowning all of their attack telegraphs.

He couldn't fight. He'd been sent to the floor in a single bad move, just a split second where he failed to recover fast enough, he failed himself. What if Stealth Elf tripped during an escape? Or more likely, Eruptor? How was he meant to save them when he was pinned to the floor by a bunch of plastic practice dummies? It took all the right timing and a bunch of dumb luck to throw one of them off of him. In what world would he be able to do the same for either of them against people who really wanted to kill them? How was he going to get there in time if all the speed he could muster only got his talons stuck in tiny gears?

He didn't know what to do. All he could do was protect his face while leaving gashes in whatever exposed body parts he could. Had he even downed any more of them since they started dogpiling him? Dogpile's right, he was less use to anyone than a kicked puppy. All his cuts and punches couldn't make him any less of a mess. At least nobody would have to clean this up if he just stayed in bed all day. Cynder wouldn't be wasting her time waiting for someone who could barely make it to the shower some days. Stealth Elf would have someone who wouldn't slow her down. Eruptor would have one less person to protect. Eon wouldn't be setting time away from the Academy to hound anyone about their lackluster performance. Maybe the Portal Master was already looking for a new protege.

He hadn't earned anyone's admiration in his life. The Cadets looked up to him because he was an Aspirant, if not because he was Eon's kid. None of them knew him, none of them talked to him, and he only had himself to blame. No matter what face he put on or whose joke he decided to steal to get more wide eyes on him, he was something to gawk at until he screwed up. Just a second where nobody was looking at him the way Eon and Jet Vac did. It was a wonder they bothered with him, not even the drones did as they automatically force-stopped the session.

There was a set of new, shallow cuts all over his body, left behind by brute force and the frequency of attacks in the same dozen spots. He wished they were deeper, made by a real weapon; he'd have been hit only a few times in a grand fight, not failed to master one dodge after a random dragon humiliated him in a casual conversation. he couldn't even pretend they were from something meaningful. There'd be no impact, no life saved, no example set, just a bunch of fresh cuts to hide the next morning. Because even when Spyro was lying on the ground with small speckles of blood sticking sand to his scales, he knew he had to do it all again in the morning.

Maybe staying in bed isn't such a bad idea... not the first time I haven't dragged myself to class...

-<🌀>-

Eon's Castle was almost exactly what George would've expected from one of Maria's fairytales. The bookshelves reached the ceiling and the symbols on his sash were arranged in a ring about the cobble floors. All that was missing was the bright pink color palette. He had to get back to her, Dad worked too late to read them to her and Mom had to get up early in the morning. George didn't have time for a year of finding where he belonged. Whatever this wizard had to deal with, he had a life and wasn't about to get wound up in this 'Skylands' because of some 'rift' opening up in the basement of his storm shelter.

"As I said, getting you home to a world without a strong magical presence is no easy feat. Even being able to trace the power of someone's realm leaves a lot of room for mistakes that will take a lot of time to manage before a portal can be opened." Eon reiterated. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but there might be a way for you to send yourself home. Tell me, how did you come here?"

George breathed in and went over the storm. He gave a little background on the rotting house and the colorful caste who 'worked there' before the raid, as well as his friends' small exploration of the decrepit grounds, just in case anything about it was important. Unfortunately, nothing about the house stood out to him or Eon, it wasn't covered in any of the wizard's symbols and he didn't walk through a ring of mushrooms to get here. Their only lead was an unremarkable ruin. The violent pull of the brightly burning rift meant just as little as a gentle one someone could walk right through with no problem.

"And you're sure there was nothing that could've been magical? No crystals, no pearls." Eon pressed and leaned over his desk.

George shook his head. "They don't exist. I don't know how I got here, what dragged me here. I just want to go home."

Eon nodded for the last time and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard. "George, without the presence of a magical item to focus a tear between Skylands and your home, the only force that could've brought you here is you."

"How did I break reality when I don't even know where I am?" He sighed. This is hopeless.

"By the nature of Skylands' portal magic, the only way for a rift to connect us is for the power of Light and Dark to combine violently and attach to something in your world." Eon got out of his seat and started pacing around his... Office? Library? "Usually, this happens to another magical world that behaves similarly to ours. For the rift to appear to you means two things." He inhaled and brought his fist onto the palm of his hand. "Someone meant to point the Light and Dark power toward a realm without magic, and you are a Portal Master... You did not land in Terrafin's desert for no reason..." He repeated.

"So I can do your portal thing and leave? Just like that?" He hopped out of the wooden chair and hoped with all his heart that another tear would appear right in front of him. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end but nothing else.

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple, but yes. Becoming a Portal Master takes a significant amount of time, study, practice, and a touch of skill you have to be born with... Even if one of us appears, it is an ordeal many don't survive beyond the first step through one of our own portals. There's a reason I'm one of the last."

"So how am I supposed to do that?" George walked around the room opposite to Eon. The dirt shark awkwardly glanced between the two from his seat.

"Normally I wouldn't suggest this, but if we focus solely on the basics of your magic and create an individual portal for you to walk through, then you may be able to get home faster than I would be able to send you on my own. But doing so would still take time and devotion to the task, neither of which I can spare lightly." He held his arms behind his back and finally faced George directly. Looking down over his snow-white beard, he swallowed down a lump in his throat. "I understand that you just want to see your family again, but I also can't compromise my duty to defend Skylands from evil."

George stopped and stepped forward, though he remained far enough away that the way he had to look up to meet Eon's eyes wasn't as noticeable. "You've done nothing but open portals everywhere since you showed up. What's so horrible that you can't make one more?"

"I know Skylands may seem a bright place where we can live and thrive in peace, and it is, but there will always be those at the edges of our sight that want to take advantage of those who can't protect themselves." Eon explained.

"That's why you have police, that's why you have armies. Even if the bad guys have big portals and whatnot, so do you."

Eon shook his head dismissively. "But we can't be everywhere, George. I've dedicated my life to the creation of legends who can be there for the many who can't defend themselves, but nobody can be everywhere all at the same time. Different people will run into conflict, they'll encounter threats that can't be so easily summed up as good or evil. Armies will be turned on each other instead of the enemy, and those who are meant to help us protect Skylands will be touched by Darkness."

"But they are there, and they can help!" He protested.

"But they are facing their own problems and have their own weaknesses that my students must cover for. Even if what I do can often be confined to my Keep, it's no less important for everyone's safety and future. I need to teach them to stand for what's right and give them the tools to face those who don't have such a commitment." He breathed. "Trust me when I say that if I could set that all aside to help you, I would, but my duties go far beyond teaching and creating portals."

The way Eon talked made him grind his teeth, the stubbornness and, if polite, finality in what they were doing. Maybe George would make the same choice in his position, but he wasn't an ancient-looking wizard holed up in a library, he was a normal kid from Tenessee whose Mom and Dad were printing missing fliers about by now and whose little sister was asking when her brother was coming home. "What do you want?" He huffed and tried not to glare.

The Portal Master raised a brow but understood and overlooked the way his face twisted into a small scowl. "I am only one man, George, our talents are beyond rare. There's no telling what could happen to me or the Skylanders in our fight against the Darkness and I may never have another chance encounter like this."

"You want a replacement." The boy finished.

"I want a potential replacement." Eon warped his words. "Something about you brought you to Skylands, something special. Even in a place with no particular Elemental affinity, your resolve and determination are indeed unique."

"And they're all about getting home, crashing on the couch with my family, and having a big movie night and a barbeque while this all blows over." George added.

The old man just chuckled like his grandpa trying to get through an old joke nobody understood anymore. "But great willpower nonetheless. In the end, only you can decide to take your place in Skylands and what you do with my teachings, but I ask that you do the right thing.

Speak to the Skylanders, to the Cadets and Aspirants trying to become them, learn their stories, learn of the villains we face and why it's so vital that we take a stand against them. Then I will give you what you need to return home as fast and effectively as I can."

George mulled it over for only a little while. Terrafin was nice enough, but he had nobody here and no reason to stay. Hell, he had every reason and right to get out of Dodge ASAP. "I'll think about it." He didn't want Eon to think he could push him around, he'd try his hand at figuring it out himself, first.

Eon nodded and turned back to Terrafin. "Could you help our guest find somewhere to sleep? I believe the Earth Section will serve him well."

The dirt shark nodded and stretched. "Come on, I think I remember a good spot."

Chapter Text

The Portal Master took a deep breath and focused in the center of his Keep. Magic flowed around his robes and hair. His vision didn't fade to black as he lightly shut his eyes. The flow of magic throughout the Castle, through their humble island, was going strong. The dancing flames of the Fire Element were celebrating the new arrival, they must've passed through there on the way. The Water Element was calm yet the tide raised and lowered with excitement. Life was blooming earlier and with more abundance than he was expecting, catching the exuding power from all the other Elements and possible Skylanders. The Undead was humming with wandering, bustling spirits as the gossip of a strangely familiar newcomer made its rounds.

Magic was positively thrumming and swelling with sparks and streaks of energy, the magic flames lighting the inhabitants' way shifted and flickered toward the sandy and rocky side of the island as the arcanely bound landmasses trilled in excitement while sprouting positively beaming crystals. The clicking cogs of Tech resounded within their gearboxes, their springs released with songs of processing, and their wires buzzed with renewed energy. Although much of their silicon and other complex parts he didn't understand (not without Sproket explaining everything part for part) weren't faring well with the swelling magic, a problem their Skylanders were already tending to with mechanical precision and efficiency.

Above them all stood Earth, steady and immovable but its shifting sand whistled with uncontainable joy. Even their pebbles jumped from their places with the boy's steps and wedged into his rubber sneakers. The Air Element, however, didn't swell with such liveliness. He could see it in his mind's eye, the Skylanders felt it, too; the way the usually gentle turbulence and often-surfed whirls shriveled and suffocated themselves. The rush of their fans softened and turned against their own momentum, creating different, smaller, though uncontrolled tornados that died shortly after their creation. Their short time among the uneasy Air Skylanders was spent trying to move away from the island. It was starting to propel them very slightly in the opposite direction.

Something was going deeply wrong, and the magic of Skylands was giving him an omen he didn't understand. It was getting time to relocate the Castle, anyway. He'd have Jet Vac take note of the phenomenon and see if someone could figure out where the elemental power was pointing or what warning it was trying to convey. For now, he shifted his gaze far across the Skylands. Even locked behind the many wards and thick doors of the Relic Room, the Book of Skylanders and the secret portal right beneath his feet pulled him toward a bridge connected to Stormveil Castle.

The dark blue and magic-resistant brass Arkeyan stomped across the cobble, his Shield of the Shadows in hand. While he didn't appear armed, the end of his Blade of the Underworld pushed aside his cape. His head, formerly staring at the distant doors of the keep's famous library, suddenly twisted back at the spot of thin air Eon projected himself to. He reflexively snapped out of his Astral Projection and cleared his throat while turning his back to the Earth icon.

Orange and brown wisps littered with rocks and sand plumes swirled around the Earth Elemental symbol, even the Air symbol across from it seemed to lose its color as the Undead Knight appeared through the rift. Reviewing his composure, Eon slowly turned around with his head held high and his hands calmly locked behind his back. He greeted Chop Chop with a smile and a welcoming nod. The knight glanced down, visibly noting the way the Earth Element's power had grown so gleefully before raising his helmed head proud and stoic and stepping off the brown and gray plate.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Skylander." Eon praised his unexpected timeliness, not covering for figuring out how to explain George to the Arkeyan.

"Always, Eon." He nodded as a bright, yellow-orange spark condensed over the Earth icon behind him. The platinum-lined Portal Of Power pulled in the excess energy with a bright spiral. Its rocky exterior shook and pressed against the metal framework. The small Elemental and portal symbols engraved at either end of the metal bands binding them together turned white and glowed orange. On either side of the relic, the spiral continued to coil with power and shone their Earthy light as the small oval vents spotted between the metal binds hummed an aura of rich brown soil and pebbles.

Chop Chop didn't look behind him as he held his free hand off to the side with his palm facing up, allowing the Portal Of Power to shoot into his grasp before he pocketed it behind his back. "Why have you called to me?"

"You may have gotten your wish, old friend." He dropped his smile, but not the soft tone he greatly favored.

The Arkeyan tilted his head. "Has Aurora revaluated herself?"

Eon tried not to wince. "Not... exactly..."

"You have selected someone else?" Chop Chop muttered.

"Possibly." Eon nodded and created an illusion of the boy in question. "George has found himself in Skylands from a rift opening up beside him. He's already demonstrated great care and protectiveness over those he's loyal to."

"Such qualities by themselves don't make a leader. He has much to learn about operating within a team and seeking advice from others before he can stand with the Skylanders, assuming he already possesses the power to keep pace with us. And even then, that is the place for a leader on the front lines against the Darkness, not a Portal Master uplifting our replacements." Chop Chop hummed and looked along the books and crystals lining the walls. If he didn't know the very magic-familiar skeleton, he might've mistaken him for admiring them.

"Do we know what caused him to be brought to Skylands?" He asked.

"He comes from a world without magic." Eon didn't answer, watching how quickly the pieces fell in place in the metal-melded skull.

"A Portal Master does not make a leader or lecturer." He criticized.

"And certainly not one who hasn't decided whether or not to stand with us." Eon added. "Kaos and Kaossandra will be far too much for him for a long time, and their introductions too early may turn him away."

Chop Chop cut in with a wave of his gauntlet. "His choice in the matter stands above all and hiding the natures' of our foes will only harm him more, later, than teaching him the next time you see him."

Eon similarly waved off the notion. "Yes, I understand that-"

"Do you?" Chop Chop interrupted.

"But dropping too much on him all at once will also do more harm than good." The wizard continued as normal.

If Chop Chop could roll his eyes, he wouldn't have, but he would be tempted. "That is no justification to allow the boy to wander our walls without knowing what he may be up against, within and without. By his very nature, he will be noticed and targeted as such from the Trolls to Malefor."

"And there's good reason to drop it all on him when he was just ripped from his home? I will tell him what he needs to know when the time is right." Eon decided.

"And who are you to decide that for him?" The Skylander spoke to a brick wall.

"The one who'll guide him through Skylands to the best of my ability." Eon stood unreasonably firm.

"Of course." Chop Chop nodded. "As you have Spyro."

The Portal Master pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not this again. I don't know what's happened to him since taking the entrance exam, but I've done what I can to engrain his responsibilities into him the easy way. I fear the only way Spyro will learn to take his future seriously is through failure." He gazed at the stone floor, then took a breath and straightened his stance without hiding the hint of fondness for the dragon seeping into his voice. "Even still, I'll be there by his side to push him in the right direction."

"As you have the rest of his life? As you have since he was a molting hatchling you could not even see was at his worst when he was right in front of you?" The Arkeyan pressed. "You are well aware of how many Kingdoms and Portal Masters I have seen fall; tell me, how many of your critiques come from the percentages on his papers versus the content of his character? When was the last time you visited him in his home?"

"I assure you, Skylander, I have been beside him every step of the way." Eon leered.

Chop Chop paused, but not out of anything resembling intimidation. "...When was the last time he took time away from his studies and friends to spend a day with you?"

"Your advice is priceless, but I believe we've said all we needed." Eon furrowed his brow.

"Such faith is misplaced." His heavy footsteps clanked over the polished stone floor, away from the portal beneath his feet where the wizard remained. "I know you are not so blind to think it without reason that the brightest Initiate your Academy has ever seen now performs no better than his peers. I know you are not so blind to think the promising but dim and socially inadept Lava Elemental and Forest Elf are suddenly excelling for nothing. I know you are not so blind to believe he spends so much time praising himself, yet connecting to none but those he has to, for no reason. And I know you are not so dim to think he does not train or study as hard as his fellow Aspirants."

"The arena didn't exist in your times, Chop Chop, it keeps good track of who uses it when and at what difficulties, even additional modifications. Spyro uses it to show off and nothing else, he'll have to learn to turn up the difficulty if he wants to become a Skylander." Eon explained what the skeleton already knew.

"As far as you know." He stated blankly.

Eon shook his head. "I check the new scores every month and the scores for his level every week. He hasn't used the arena properly for years, he treats it like a game to show off for the earlier classes."

"As far as you know. He does not need the access to the arena that we have to find a weakness in the system, just the knowledge of electronics he learned as a Initiate and the will to act. And yet, you admit you know he used the arena for the sake of demonstration, all while knowing he could not stand where he is on talent alone. He has practiced, he has worked as hard as his peers.

If you value my advice as much as you claim, then you will ask yourself why he does so behind your back." Chop Chop finished and walked past Eon on the way to the Undead Element symbol. Possess a Portal Of Power he may, but even he was no Portal Master capable of using it to its fullest potential, only Eon and George could do that. All the Arkeyan was capable of was transporting himself to the Castle.

Eon sighed. He was even more ancient than the Portal Master, but he was still a Skylander who rarely interacted with his boy. "If you're so sure you know how to get through to him, be my g-"

"Let him rest." He interrupted. Gleefully, even, though he never showed it.

Eon swallowed down a frustrated groan. Patience, he thought, was his best quality and what he built the Academy on, but oh dear did this unemoting skeleton know how to test it. "Some days, resting is all he does. More won't magically give him the drive to raise his grades and catch up on his training in time for the Final Trials."

"As far as you know." He blandly repeated. At this point, the wizard was half expecting him to start screeching 'nevermore' until all the Castle's ears bled.

With another exasperated sigh, he steeled himself and prepared Chop Chop's next assignment. He summoned his staff and prepared to warp the skeleton to Spyro and his team's residence"Still, I'd appreciate if you'd talk-"

The skeleton's weighty brass chainmail, heavily enchanted with the resilience and slowness of a Dragon Turtle, disappeared in a white and gray spark, and he launched himself to Eon's side. His gauntlet closed down on the Portal Master's staff and effortlessly ripped it out of his hand before he could even react. A boot lightly but speedily swiped behind his ankle. It sent him stumbling not enough to fall, but plenty to jam his back into the side of his desk. Eon sent a small ray of blue light into the skeleton, knowing he was one of his own Skylanders but already acting on reflex, but Chop Chop held back the burst with naught but the palm of his magi-mechanical hand and swung the staff down.

Stopping within the span of a millimeter (and almost breaking it on the momentum, Eon worried), he held it just over the Portal Master's helmed head. "I just as tired of your games as you do mine, Eon, so if you will not listen to me in regards to Spyro, you will listen now: I swore an oath to uphold peace, justice, and serve Skylands, not you, so cease trying to make me fix the folly you cannot accept to be worthy when broken and return me to my mission."

Chop Chop twirled the staff to hold it horizontally, dropped it into Eon's hand, and silently returned to the Undead Elemental symbol. Eon waved his staff and sent him back to the bridge of Stormveil Castle. He could stay there for a while if he wasn't going to help him figure out how to reach his boy. What am I going to do with you, Spyro? The wizard pinched his nose, unsure if it was for the second or third time, and sighed with just as much confusion. He elected to distract himself with the Academy and Skylander's abundant documents so he could readdress the issue with a clearer mind when it counted.

As he had all of Spyro's life.

He wouldn't let his body throw everything away.

-<🌀>-

His headache was too strong and his vision too blurry to see how many waves he'd endured before falling to the sand. The combat drones hadn't moved from their spots, waiting for the deactivation signal from the main terminal. It had gotten dark by the time he found the strength, if not the will, so about a half-hour to an hour since he got his ass handed to him. Spyro barely had the clarity to check the ground he'd been pummeled on. His scales were tough, even without any items or blessings, the exposed practice weapons needed all their force to strike in the same spots in the same precise angles for an extended period of time just to draw a few tiny crimson beads. They stuck some small grains to his body more than seeped into the training arena.

Along with possibly twisting it a mildly bad way while trying to maul the drones from the floor, he'd limply and pathetically rested on one of his paws oddly. Spyro tried to keep his weight off of it as he hobbled to the terminal. He still couldn't quite tell how long he'd lasted, only that it wasn't enough. Krypt King outlasted an entire Arkeyan reserve army, he couldn't even handle a bunch of automatoons that everyone from Cadets to Skylanders was meant to mow through like dominoes. And he wasn't even a Skylander back then!

Spyro's wings popped and cracked as he flared them. His bones ached as his amber membranes caught all the cold air at once, opening at just the wrong time for a chilly breeze to keep him grounded for another minute. He fell faster and for a little longer than anyone else taking off as he glided over to the outer layers of the Castle's domain. Still, his wings stayed perfectly level and still as he found a straight flight to his and the team's home. The houses of resident Skylanders protected the Castle just beyond the layer the Aspirants lived in. Eon had already picked out which one would soon belong to him, something the Portal Master seldom let him forget. He carefully angled his wings upward and curled the fingers stretching the membrane on the way to his room's window like air-breaks, they dragged on the cold, quickening breeze like kites but weren't loud enough to risk waking Elfie as long as he didn't fly by her window.

Even though they were somewhere strong in the Life Element for Spring, it had cold nights that completely destroyed Stealth Elf's motivation. On the bright side, they were casually floating toward somewhere adjacent to a Fire Elementally gifted land while dodging the heart of the same heavy storm Cynder mentioned. They'd still be hit by some strong winds and cold rain, but it would be over before the Final Trials commenced. Plus, the arena would get dried up before anyone was allowed inside. Brutal and unfair their final test might be, it was at least the same amount of unfair for everyone who attempted, not a speck of mud like him would be tolerated.

His cold paws fumbled with the window and he flopped onto his bed on the other side. Spyro carefully skulked through his room once the window was securely shut. He slithered under his bedframe, nudging aside his cooler, a small box, a glass bong covered in bubble wrap, and reached for a second box. It was wooden and polished, unlike the other simple cardboard one. Inside was a bunch of folded pieces of fancy parchment. Technically they were scrolls, but they weren't as easy to store when they were rolled up like they were supposed to be. He had a sticky note on each of them but groaned in frustration as he saw many had fallen off.

It took a bit of time to unfold, read, relabel, and precisely refold them all to fit back in the box, only made slightly easier when one was set aside. The dragon quietly crept out of his room, past Stealth Elf's and Eruptor's rooms, and into the bathroom. The door didn't even click shut behind him as he flattened the scroll against the inside. All sound in the room was muted. His bones creaked and snapped without making a sound as he stretched, his pained and sharp exhale didn't make a sound, the way he winced and snarled as he saw himself in the mirror didn't make a sound, the turning of the shower's squeaky faucet didn't make a sound, the rushing of slowly heating water didn't make a sound.

Spyro's talons twitched and scratched the cold tile as he inhaled. His head pounded and throat dried as he took a deep, greedy breath of air and screamed. Not a sound spewed from between his pearly teeth and across his dry tongue as he reared back on his hind legs. Though muted, his yelling shook the tile floor. His eyes were shut painfully tight to avoid his reflection, even though he refused to so much as turn his head toward the glass.

Hot tears burned his eyes, he dared not see himself in the mirror, he couldn't even bring himself to check if the mirror had fogged up yet as he clenched his upper forelegs until his claws scratched deep along his muscles. It wasn't until he'd counted to fifty out loud, tearing into his vocal cord, that he so much as glanced to the side so he could see and hop into the shower. Only with the heat turned all the way up could he feel the gentle sting. The steam flowing through his nostrils felt like it was clearing his sinuses and the water pooling around his claws turned a light purple before it flowed down the drain.

The mirror may not have been looming over him anymore, but he still had eyes that glazed over the many thin, shallow marks on his scales. None of them that his head could crane to see were deep or prominent, but they froze his heart and churned his stomach all the same. They were wrong, they were imperfect, they reminded him constantly of the hits he took, they were failures they were his failures. He'd already let Eon down, he'd already let Stealth Elf down, he'd already let Eruptor down, he'd already let Skylands down and he hadn't even started. Spyro growled and snarled and shouted until his throat felt like it was burning and his lungs were melting. His head was splitting open but he refused to cry, his eyes were welded shut but he couldn't get the few glimpses of his tiny scar-covered body out of his foggy and lagging and swirling mind, his whole body was trembling but he refused to collapse.

A fraction choked breath escaped his jaws, releasing the tension of his grinding teeth for only a second before it returned in force as his underbelly hit the tub. Skylanders didn't cry, Skylanders didn't have to hide their own cuts from themselves, Skylanders didn't collapse, Skylanders didn't fail, Skylanders were far above everything he'd ever be.

Fog covered the mirror and he, like the fucking coward he was, still couldn't even turn his gaze to the blurry purple blob of condensation as if it was going to flash every single cut, bent scale, and scuff in his horns and tail back at him. His body continued to shake like he was standing in the midst of the hurricane as he fumbled around the counter for a dark green potion. As part of the abundant medical options at their disposal, they could get any prescription and over-the-counter product they wanted with documentation.

Since Elfie only needed half of her Minor Sleep Potions to get a good rest, they had an arrangement for him to snatch the other half for some pocket change. She thought it was just so their expenses looked better to Hugo and, by extension, Eon; but the deal meant he never showed up on any of the medical paperwork. Regarding healthcare, he was invisible to the Portal Master, nothing was wrong with him. He still had about another half hour intil it started taking effect, though, Stealth Elf favored the brew that sacrificed speed of effectiveness for deep sleep.

Despite knowing the silencing scroll would cover the sound, Spyro carefully and slowly opened the door before just as carefully peeling off the parchment, then lightly shutting it behind him. He could feel the magic flowing through the page as he tested his wings. The scroll was struggling to mute the open area of the living room and kitchen but was able to keep the immediate space around his paws quiet, so he experimentally tilted his tired wings downward. The pearl white spikes in the middle of the joints clicked without noise as he pushed himself upward. Like Cynder had, he walked to his room on his hind legs and wings while clutching the scroll in his paws.

He held it against his door before opening and closing it. The magic started fizzling out as he nursed his headache. Nobody entered each other's rooms without permission, he just let it fall to the floor behind the frame and hinge as he dragged himself to bed.

-<🌀>-

One big question, aside from the ever-frustrating lingering shadow mystery, bounced about Eugenie's head like an echo chamber. "Why do you keep bringing me portal books?" She didn't want to risk sounding ungrateful.

Cynder paused, having just dropped off another stack she'd easily flick through in a minute. The black dragoness's big blue eyes blinked at the Human blankly and her head tilted like a curious cat's. "Well, your kind is rare, that's not a talent that should just be wasted." She started listing names off her talons. "You look a lot like Master Eon, Kaos is a pushover compared to his Mom but they're both there, aaaaaaaand that's about it..."

"...What?" Eugenie stared dumbfounded.

"Well, you showed up here from a rift, right?"

She nodded. "How'd you know that?"

The dragon waved her off. "Traces of portal magic. And there you go!"

They continued to stare as if the other had explained themselves until Cynder's eyes widened. "You don't know." Wasn't something Eugenie was used to hearing, but oddly welcome. She wasn't something to be shipped off to a university, here. "Eugenie... rifts just appearing around you, bringing you right where you need to be isn't normal, even for Skylands... You're a Portal Master. You're one of the only people alive who can pull that off."

"So now you're implying I made that rift!?" She muttered, pulling the latest book over her head as if it would hide her.

"Not willingly, but it wouldn't have appeared without you." Cynder explained and looked around. "This isn't the place to try and run through all of this, so what if you came to my place?"

Eugenie got up, now realizing how long she'd been hunched for and the ache in her back. "I'm not sure..."

Cyander crawled over the table and coiled around her tail. "Come on! You've come this far! If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it already... It didn't look like you had a better option last night, anyway." She obviously forced an uncomfortable chuckle. "Just think of it as an... e-extended sleepover... I'll show you what you need to get started and you can... I dunno yet, teleport me through fair security." The next laugh was heartier and genuine.

Her words swirled around in the girl's head. She didn't have a house or stable job. Maybe she could ask the library for one, the other library would also be a good chance, but an entry-level clerk wouldn't have great pay no matter what she did. Meanwhile, here was someone who stuck with her two days, was offering a place to stay and get on her feet, and at the price of some simple favors. Turns out she had a decent monopoly on her skills, all she'd have to do was travel a lot, undercut the competition, and then she'd be set to send people wherever they wanted. And at the end of the day, Cynder was right, she didn't really have a choice.

"Let's try it!"

Cynder smiled and lightly grabbed Eugenie's small hands. "You've gotten this far, we'll make it work."

The apparent 'Portal Master' wrapped the dragon up in a big hug with a radiant smile. She was careful not to impale her arms on the long spines lining her spine but found a small spot between some of the shorter spikes further down her neck to wedge her forearms into and squeeze to her heart's content. In her rush, she didn't notice Cynder freeze up and tense, but slowly soften and stand on the tips of her wings to awkwardly return the embrace with her forelegs. Her platinum horns chilled the crook of Eugenie's neck and her snout rested on her shoulder. It ended in a snap of motion as Cynder shoved the Human girl away, the only thing stopping her from falling over on the library's chair was the tight grip on her shoulders. Cynder's claws were starting to dig into Eugenie's day-old, unwashed shirt as her head looked in all directions around the shelves, then landed in the direction of the keep's door.

"Jenny..." Cynder whispered low and deep, she barely lightened her vice grip on the Human's shoulders. That was a name only her old friends called her. "What have you figured out about opening portals?"

"Not to try going through my own portals?" She shrugged off the sharp talons. There was a problem with the start and end points relative to the caster's position. Combined with the clear concentration needed to support a portal and the disorientation of going through a portal, especially for the first few times, young Portal Masters exploding in a surge of magic was only slightly rarer than their births.

Cynder tensed again but stopped her claws from burrowing into the Portal Master's clothes and skin again. "...Run..."

The dragoness disappeared into a violet and black cloud that seeped into the darkness beneath the shelves, shooting in the main door's direction and seemingly posting up around the corner. Eugenie shivered and looked clumsily around before flinging herself around another corner. She looked behind them, Eugenie picked the back of the library for the sake of silence and familiar loneliness, though they were also just a short distance from the back door.

Weighty stomps started walking down the rows of gigantic books. From around the wooden fixture stepped a mountain of a man clad in dark blue armor with plentiful brass accents. He was just above the size of an average person from her world, yet towered over everyone she'd seen thus far, including her. His boots and greaves were solid and built with powerful interlocking plates bound by large bolts and tough leather straps. His upper arms and thighs were covered by heavy sheets of brass chains, similarly covering his sides between the large plates of his chest plate and four-eyed helmet.

Attached by nothing to his side was a massive sword like a pirate's cutlass. Spikes lined the brass fist guard and there was a small extenstion past the guard for it to be uncomfortably wielded with two hands like a bastard sword. The handle was wrapped in rich black bindings and the blade was a dark, gunmetal gray with several whirly symbols and a few large serrations near the base and along the back, as well as a small brass backing crawling up the rear of the sword.

He had a similar shield attached to his forearm by two metal bands. It was a round model with some brass etchings and five bright white spikes in the corners and center. It was bright gold with lapis rings around the bases of the bright white spikes held by platinum anchors. His presence, aside from the weight of his footsteps, was deathly silent like a ghost town left in the aftermath of a plague only half as ruthless as his weapon. The man's helmet made no sound, only the clicks of the small chain links echoed as he briefly looked around, spying the many magic books she'd left stacked on the table. Her obsessive need to treat books properly bit her as all of their bindings were facing right at him; from vague 'darkness' to all sorts of portal details.

"I know what jaws hang over your head, Terror of the Skies, we need not-." The knight's voice was hollow and dead like a funeral, something that would've called to her on a whistling wind from within a dark, silent forest.

He was cut off by Cynder. Her voice echoed, rough and deep like the crack of thunder. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

Violet and black miasma swirled around the room, Eugenie sprinted for the back door.

Chapter Text

If the knight moved at all, Eugenie couldn't hear him. She couldn't tell if him chasing her or the notion that he wasn't even bothered by Cynder was more terrifying. The air hummed with electricity and hissed like a harsh wind, the smell of burning ozone filled the library a fraction of a second after a blinding flash of blue light. She could feel her hair standing on end, from her hands to her head like she was a hedgehog about to run into a bookshelf.

The clang of metal like the song of a steel drum followed her light stomping footsteps as the bolt of lightning slammed into the knight's shield. It rippled like a gong and was joined by a harsh, sharp metallic scraping of his sword being rapidly drawn along the bottom of his shield. A flash of gold light burned behind her, but it was too bright and constant to just be a spark like flint and it had streaks of purple mixed in. Whispers were bouncing off the walls and filtering through the pages of extremely old books as if they were calling out to her. Some of the mole-people, some of the 'Mabu', were making their way out the back door when she blindly barreled through.

Eugenie stammered out an apology as she tripped over them, hitting her elbows and back on the cobble roads. Rain started pelting her face and she rapidly got to her feet, splashing through puddles while sprinting through Stormveil. The sky had darkened and flashes of light soared across the sky but Eugenie still zoomed down the streets like she was flying, not even feeling the impact of her feet on the carved rocks with her frantic flight.

Still inside, Cynder continued firing bolt after bolt at the Skylander. The Elite effortlessly blocked her every single time with such speed and precision, meeting her attacks perfectly in the middle of his shield, like he knew exactly where she was going to strike before she exhaled. She didn't let him meet her eyes, didn't let him see anything to report back to Master Eon, didn't give him a target, but it became quickly apparent he didn't need to. The flashing gold and violet miasma about his sword moved faster than she did while flying, it took all the speed and timing she had just to keep ahead of the blade.

But he dared try to talk to her. If he wanted to kill her, he could've done so at the cost of destroying the library. Minimal collateral and finding out what she knew, that was all the Skylander was after; she'd make him give up on one of those but preferred to get out alive. She focused not on her next lightning strike, but on her mind. The wafting shadow of the circular markings on her head flashed pinkish purple as she sent a wave crashing through Chop Chop's defense. Still, he met the hit without a flinch, adjusting his stance even less than when she was spewing lightning. She tried again with a small storm of psionic blades but he didn't even dignify her with a block, parrying all of them into sparkling energy with the slightest swing of his sword before slashing. Just barely did she escape by the tip of her tail.

So she ditched him. Clawing from her own shadowy mist came a ghastly army of specters, wheezing and groaning as they reached out to the knight. Cynder scattered electricity through their fading forms before delving into the darkness after Jenny. A whirl of necrotic energy swirled around the room as the Elite cut down all of the ghosts in just one swipe. The memory of his and the Orc Skylander's fight when she was younger came to mind. He could be very quick, but his armor was stiff and clunky, especially the chainmail components. The enchanted anti-magic brass likely would've held against most attacks she threw at him, so not taking advantage of the opportunity to bail was just idiotic.

He was easy enough to outrun and the heavy footfalls told her exactly how far away he was. She flew right out the back door while forming a mental image of Eugenie in her head. Her pale face, her bright blue eyes, her wavy gold hair, her thoughts tugged her down the right paths but she didn't care to use them, she had her own route. Verticality was her main advantage on the skeletal damage-sponge and dammit was she gonna use it. Eugenie's hair stood out well against the cobblestone towers and light blue rooftops.

The Human had begun losing her sense of direction about the large, winding, and stormy stronghold when the dragon's platinum claws clamped down on her again. Despite being pulled up towards the freezing rain, a weight settled on her shoulders as the dragoness deposited her backpack on the girl's shoulders. Her screams were drowned by the roaring rain and howling winds and striking thunder. If that giant knight was watching them, then they were nothing but a black spot against the dark gray patch of infinite sky. She wasn't afforded much time to recollect herself before the dragon dove down to a small island in the distance.

Cynder let her down on a soft patch of wet grass and perched atop a nearby rock. "How's that for your first storm flight?" She asked between huffs as rain muddied the ground.

"Terrifying?" Eugenie wondered and shook. Had she ever gotten such an adrenaline rush?

The dragon chuckled and sighed. "Don't suppose you've heard of the 'Terror of the Skies', have you?"

"No?" Eugenie shrugged from the floor.

"Yeah, I figured." Cynder sighed in disappointment. "But I figured I might as well ask... Anyway, let's get home before the guy who thinks I'm that starts tracking us down."

The Portal Master was suddenly very willing to sit on a spiky dragon's saw-like back for an unknown period of time.

-<🌀>-

"Welcome to the Cadaverous Crypts!" Cynder waved her paws and flared her wings like they were curtains being unveiled.

Eugenie didn't want to say it, but it was awful. A whole ton about Cynder's affinity for flashy, expensive jewelry made a lot more sense, seeing how disgustingly bland and soulless her home was. The infinite sky here had a thick layer of dark clouds above it and mind-numbing gray beneath. All of the islands in this place were being ruthlessly torn apart by massive, gnarly black roots, yet she saw no trees. Not even a shrub or flower was in sight, the vile flora all came from nothing, harvested nothing from the packed and dead soil, and returned nothing to the lack of an environment.

Not even a single blade of grass provided a drop of meaningful color; everything was a haze of browns, grays, and blacks only broken up by splotches of maroon. The small islands were littered with floating boulders, unlike the together and uniform ones between gaps of clean air that they'd come from. Trying to fly through here looked like running through a minefield. Some of the bigger islands were visibly held or forcibly pulled together using massive chains and steel plates bolted in place just to support the stone keeps and castles populating them.

Those fortresses were where the only maroon splash of color came from. They all bore dark red banners with black outlines and the dark face of a furious, many-horned dragon with deep violet eyes. Even its jaw had horns, it looked nothing like the reasonably spiky but friendly face who'd brought her here. Every wall and rooftop was lined with tall iron spikes and every structure was brutalist, just with interlocking stones instead of concrete. The windows may have been plentiful, but they were narrow and barred like prison cells, more like ports for archers and gunmen than seeing the wonderful world outside.

"Are you... Okay?" Eugenie squeaked.

Cynder sharply exhaled with a smirk. "Relax, why do you think I fly all the way to Stormveil just for a library?"

She gestured Eugenie along, weaving through what few spiky roots and taller stones littered the islands as they approached a big stone platform lined with symbols and topped by a white disk. Cynder tapped the platform with a claw covered in swirling shadows and it flashed bright. In a (painfully bright) blink of an eye, they were in a room covered in artwork and gold. The stones here were completely black and polished to such an absurd shine that she could see the minute details of her irises and displaced strands of hair in her obsidian reflection. The sharp edges glistened between the silver paste melding them together instead of concrete.

The purest gold she'd ever seen made up the plentiful archways supporting the massive mural spanning the length of the walls. Fire and crumbling castles flanked them and different angles of massive airships were right above the girls as they wandered the decorated halls; every specific point of interest had a gem of some sort embedded in the obsidian. Some of them looked like they might represent ancient relics and were surrounded by letters she didn't recognise, others were like points on a 3D star map she couldn't read. Paintings lining the walls bore images of countless warriors, each a different species clad in different armor, yet more looked to be flags and family crests. All that seemed consistent was the shadow of the same reptile whose face was plastered over the banners.

"Look what we need just to copy you," Cynder grinned and pointed back at the portal platform while walking along on the tips of her wings, the Portal Master had already forgotten they'd only been there for a few seconds. "I can't wait 'til we start breaking into malls and concerts." She smiled more sinisterly.

"You're a bad influence!" Eugenie giggled and playfully swatted the dragon's shoulder, she flinched but smirked.

Some dimly glowing red dots like the lights of security cameras were tucked in the corners of the many twists and turns they took before coming to a tower loosely connected to the main castle. The bridge to it was exposed to the elements, made of blander cobble with steel arches and grates like a cage protecting it. The view still wasn't much, all gray and brown with nothing but the etheric lights of magical torches spotting the expansive maze of other fortresses, but it was something.

The inside was a pretty quiet and dim black room; the carpet was black, the drywall was painted black, even the windows had a dark tint to them between the black diamond mesh. The curtains and the edges of the furniture were painted a deeep purple, many of which had some light gashes in the sides that were painted the same way; many a toe had been stubbed on the bedframe and dressers before someone who'd seldom handled a paint brush touched them up with violet and got some light speckles on the carpet around them. One wall was taken up entirely by different-sized books with some rolled-up scrolls at the smaller top and bottom shelves.

"I'm walking in the void." She blinked at the only other splash of color in the whole room: a tall portrait opposite the bookshelf depicting Cynder wrapped in a royal purple silk sheet atop a fancy silver chair encrusted with white crystals, she was sitting like a dog while her tail curled around the chair's legs and the tip scratched the checkered obsidian and crimson tiles.

"I hate that fkn thing." Cynder mumbled and turned back to the Portal Master. "You can entertain yourself, right?" She held her upper arm with one of her claws. "Because I kinda made plans with someone else and Stormveil was a lot closer to them than here." The dragon sheepishly smiled.

"I've got my own books, I'll be fine." Eugenie shrugged. She was more than used to being alone by now, she'd be fine a little longer.

"Great!" Cynder dashed for the door. "Don't break anything, I can give you a tour when I get back, andI'llmakeituptoyou!" She soared down the halls.

Still, she giggled again and hopped on the circular bed and fished through her bag for something to read. Cynder's little library looked nice and might've given her an idea of who the dragon really was, but it didn't matter when a giant death knight might be chasing her down the dragon was kind and patient, waiting for her to explain all of this when she was ready was alright. She'd looked after Eugenie thus far and made it pretty obvious she just didn't want to pay to see her favorite bands. For the first time since she arrived at Uni, everything in her selection called to her.

-<🌀>-

He figured Stealth Elf and Eruptor would've left by now. Just because they were cleared to take the Final Trials didn't mean there wasn't a handful of last-minute assignments for the end of the year. Usually meant for those who needed to take another year, all those quizzes and essays still tended to screw over the Aspirants making their way for the big finale. And that was by design, to up the pressure and see who started to crack. Sure, he didn't, and doubted either of his teammates would, but it wasn't like he was there.

Spyro couldn't remember if he'd tried to get up yet. The day began blurring together from the start. As he rotted in his bed, all he could single out was the crick in his spine and the pounding in his head. A suffocating weight on his entire body made it almost impossible just to shift somewhere comfortable. He managed to open his eyes, honest! But tried to get back to sleep when he was reminded how far away his bedroom door was, it took a little less energy to flip a pillow to the cold side but that was all he had left in him.

It wasn't like anyone was waiting on him, anyway. Odds were nobody would even notice; he didn't know anyone in class besides Elfie and Eruptor, none of them knew him. Not the real him, at least, just 'Eon's kid' who was at the very top all of the time. Why should they care? Why would they care? He didn't have to put on a smile when he was under the covers. He didn't have to stretch his aching wings and keep up with all the fastest members of the class while pretending it was nothing when his head was on a pillow. He didn't have to listen to Jet Vac breathing over his shoulder if he never left his home. He didn't have to deal with Eon looking down on him outside some bad dreams when he was asleep.

He swore he did his best to keep it up, every single day of his life had he done everything he could to just smile through the day. They liked his smile, it was shiny and easy on the eyes, but that was all it was, all he was. There was no point, no depth to what his peers saw in him when it was all a big act to keep up with the expectations and ever-shifting goalposts. Who was going to make it big changed every day. What was the point of keeping up when he was about to get out or fail spectacularly? Either way, it didn't matter anymore.

Jet Vac would be no help. He understood why the eagle was constantly going so far, his whole reason for being by the dragon's side was to make sure he got where Eon was expecting him to be. But why was he the only one who got hounded for getting a B? Nobody else got the look for being barely above the class average. It wasn't for lack of trying, he'd stayed up several nights to study. But no, the bird acted as if Air Studies was the only responsibility on his schedule. When he stayed quiet and worked hard, he was judged and singled out in the middle of lectures, when he talked, he was shut down or looked down on like he already knew the answer to his question. Might as well treat him with exactly as much respect as Spyro was given.

Eon was the same way, easier not to be noticed than get up. If it didn't matter what he got on the last assignments, he had already decided anything less than an S meant he wasn't applying himself. Eruptor all but flunked his SuperChargers courses, Stealth Elf couldn't wrap her head around Undead Studies, but both of them were among the top performers. What did Spyro do not to deserve some similar leniency? The dragon puts his all into an essay, gets an A-, and all he has to show for it is a stern talking to. So what was the point?

Why did he even bother?

Because it was all he had, really. That was why he poured all his blood and tears into his training, that was why all his sleep went into reading books and writing novels for essays, that was why he did as much work as he could before molting, that was why he dragged his trash can next to his desk when he felt nausious, that was why he held his flashcards an inch from his face when he was dizzy. All to become a Skylander, whatever it took to become a Skylander, anything to become a Skylander.

Spyro would be strong enough when he was a Skylander, he'd be admirable when he was a Skylander, he'd be loved when he was a Skylander.

He slowly managed to force himself upright. Every bone ached and the small handful of lingering cuts across his scales reopened as he suddenly remembered why he stayed down today. Only one or two gashes from last night were deep enough to still sting this morning, but they didn't feel like they were bleeding. He was a fast healer, he had to be, Skylanders didn't let some pain keep him down. Why did he let himself think having an off-day was okay? Elfie and Eruptor were off somewhere, he didn't pause to look at the clock, he wasn't ready to learn how much time he'd thrown away unless it meant he wouldn't have to put up with JV. That man, he was willing to admit, he did not have the energy to talk to.

It felt like hours before he reached the bathroom, the mirror was clear as day and polished to a shine. Elfie must've cleaned it this morning. Spyro tried not to look into it, but had to. He winced and felt spiders crawling under his hide every single time he barely peeked over the counter out of the corner of his amber eye. His makeup kit was usually hidden beneath his bed, but he left it under some spare towels in the cabinets a few days ago, knowing he wasn't going to have much in him when the final exams got back to them. He and Stealth Elf didn't remember to shower consistently enough for those to get swapped out frequently, usually around every other day or two.

After realising how heavy magical deodorant had been carrying them, he worked on painting over his light scars. They were as thin and shallow as ever, but they were there, they stared back at him through the mirror like the deep, dark bags under his exhausted eyes. They were too obvious, too clear, too flawed to go under anyone's radar, especially Spyro's. His breathing started to pick up, he could feel his heart rate increasing and blood draining from his face and wings. Spyro's legs felt heavy, more than usual, and he got a tingling sensation in his claws and wings like pins were being gently driven through his scales.

The dragon told himself over and over that he was just checking behind him to make sure there really wasn't anything prodding him, not because he was so pathetic that he couldn't bear to keep looking in a simple little mirror. A small part of him almost fell for it! On the bright side, if it could be called that, he'd spent many days in the past wanting to claw his eyes out to memorize the positions of the worse scars so he could now brush over them without looking. The brush chilled his scales. Blazing hot fire, he could power through with a bit extra willpower and one of the health potions buried in his closet, but even this slowly sapped what precious little energy he'd mustered. So much for taking a break, he couldn't even live up to himself.

When he thought he was done, he took a deep, shaky breath and fully looked back at the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed anything. His eyes were a little too bloodshot and shiny like he was close to crying, you had your little tantrum last night, get a grip but he otherwise just needed to brush his teeth and spray some cologne. Sucked it up for nothing, I just started the day way after everyone else and I'm already wasting my own time. Spyro finished his 'morning' routine and brought himself to look at the clock in the living room from the second set of stairs. It was lunchtime and a small plate of cold eggs and bacon was on the counter.

Had he eaten dinner last night? No, it turned out when he got to the fridge. His portion of steak was wrapped in tin foil on the middle shelf. There wasn't much else, just a handful of ingredients for Eruptor to cook to his heart's content; he and Elfie weren't allowed to touch them, all their ideas amounted to ordering pizza at the end of the week and getting some sort of takeout for the rest, which was always decided upon at the last minute. Stealth Elf got a pass, she was always getting back from the Training Isles around then, Spyro was supposed to be on top of things. He tried to find the will to grab a bite, but the twisting and churning sensation after looking in the mirror, the way the weight in his chest and lead on his claws crushed him right at the start of the day, quickly got rid of the little appetite he could find.

Jet Vac's class wasn't until later, but the bird would probably be questioning why he'd missed the whole day save for a few other lectures. He might as well study in the perfect, blessed silence while he had the chance. Eruptor's heavy footsteps would let him know when it was almost time to reunite with Cynder. Research aside, he had a lot to do. He needed to dust around his room, it wouldn't kill him to do the team a solid and tidy up the house, they could probably use a good vacuuming, and the ceiling fan had started squeaking. Maybe it wasn't much, but the last one would keep Elfie up so it would be worth the investment.

They didn't have oil but he could mix up something that worked with the contents of his closet. He was also running low on sneezing and stomach potions, but they didn't have much purified water left in the fridge, not to mention some other ingredients. He should head to the store while he's up. Spyro took a quick look around the house to brush up on everything they were missing, then stretched his sore wings and headed out. The breeze was light, considering there was a pretty big storm chasing the castle as he ran through his shopping list on his phone. It was easy on his wings, carrying him to a decently sized Mabu town, it made him dread the flight back home but his wings would have time to relax as he wandered the beaten dirt roads and quaint little shops.

It wasn't the first time the Skylanders' Castle visited this place, far from it, this quiet town was one of the three-ish places the Final Trials tended to happen at. The consistency wasn't intentional but the temperature here was alright, the weather was usually stable, and it was strong in the Elements Eon liked to make sure had a good presence at the Academy for the season. With the Arena's special magic conditions, no strange catches to the environment, and it being a safe zone with and without the Skylanders' intervention; and it would become clearer than his caregiver would've liked that this was an ideal spot for their graduations.

Spyro had been in the middle of more than a few rants and late-night searches for more, equally suitable places. Being the Portal Master in charge of protecting them all, Eon took the matter very seriously, and it bled down to Spyro in spades. He looked down every alleyway and around every corner on instinct, just in case anyone was waiting around the corner with a pair of binoculars pointed at his classmates. No rest for the wicked, so no rest for me.

But even he couldn't deny the way the cramp in his neck unraveled and how the wings folded around his sides started to droop. The light bustle of moles going about their days, working their simple jobs, worrying about their normal lives, watching their kids play with their friends while grandma and grampa sipped tea. He wondered what it was like for only a second, that life wasn't meant for him, but it was nice to people watch while choosing which stores to check.

Many times they'd been here, many times he'd walked these streets, many times he'd watched the newest construction project taking shape; but many times the Castle was warped somewhere else every third of the season, many times the kids he'd had to carefully make sure wouldn't jump out after a stray ball right in front of him grew up or stopped being friends, many times he'd seen a new building being put up the previous year had been finished without him. The smell of a flower shop he didn't recognise floated on the wind, mixing with that of a bakery that'd been bought out by a competitor a few islands down sometime since his team's third and final run at being Protophytes.

They were new, they were different, they were ever-changing, all passing him by. There were at least four places on this street he'd quietly do some odd maintenance jobs for. It wasn't like he could build a career anywhere, but he found out working with his hands calmed him down way back when he was a Student. Alchemy class was just his first fascination, some basic mechanics and trades followed as his education progressed and expectations expanded. Not the most combat-useful, but having a complete list of classes up to the limit allowed in one year satisfied Eon nonetheless.

He almost gathered a genuine smile, rather than a forced grin, when he glanced down a certain street, just for the notion to be shattered when it turned out the small electrician shop down there had been replaced with a visibly poorly maintained laundromat. Still, there was probably a broken machine or two he could take a look at or an AC unit ill-prepared for the coming heat, undercutting everyone else on the street was easy and the Tech section of their island always had a mountain of spare parts, worst come to worst. But he'd want to work that out before he had to lug a bunch of bags of frozens and delicate elixir parts to the house.

"Well, are my eyes playin' tricks on me, or is that a little Spyro all grown up?" The voice was very raspy, much more than Cynder's, but no less burned in his memory. Hers was memorized just because she was the only other one of his kind he'd ever seen, this one was repeated bi-daily whenever he was in the area.

He physically lit up before he turned to a small cottage. It was a bit cramped and had a thatch roof that'd seen better days, but it was generally an alright home for the old lady who lived there. She was an out-of-place biclops in a village of people half her size. There was some story about a large part of her village being bought out by Count Moneybone, who'd put all sorts of fliers and 'financial opportunities' working for him and whoever he had a deal with that week, she was young and didn't want her options limited so she left with nothing but the clothes on her back and a single motel night's worth of change in her pockets.

Miss Vanir built everything from nothing. He knew she'd founded a law firm of some sort, he was pretty sure it was about tree laws and forest borders, but not the details. His heart sank, knowing he couldn't even remember the details she'd shared so proudly with anyone who asked how a random biclops could find a living without any safety net or backing from some corrupt dark wizard. All he could piece together from memory was that her Dad was either a lumberjack or worked at a sawmill, but was forced to turn his axe on the Skylanders by their town's negligent 'benefactor' driving up rent and got a 'work contract' full of listings for Kaossandra. She'd hit the books out of spite and... that was all he could put together; it'd been over a year since the last time he'd gotten any pieces of the story.

She was a pale blue-green in her old age, which he also mentally kicked himself for not remembering, and her top eye was getting foggy. He vaguely remembered being the one to collect and drop off her custom glasses, getting the right size and shape for the frame was a nightmare in an almost entirely Mabu town, as well as her sparkly watch. That last one was more of a fancy treat she allowed herself after a big case against Doctor Krankcase, though she insisted on paying the dragon for the trouble both times and he couldn't bring himself to tell her no.

"I think I look the same." He stood on the tips of his wings and shrugged with his freed arms. No wonder Cynder figured this out.

"Now, now. These eyes might be old but I ain't that blind. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean you're not a wonderful little Skylander." She hobbled over with a brace on her knee and lightly pinched his cheek. It wasn't harsh at all, she knew her strength and his scales were tough, but he quickly glanced to her retreating hand to make sure none of his makeup had smeared on her fingers.

Don't even have the decency to listen to what she has to say before obsessing over scars. Spyro shook his head. "What makes ya think I'm a Skylander?"

She just patted his head and chuckled. "You show up a week after the Skylanders, never stay long enough to hold a job, and leave a week before the rest of 'em."

Spyro sheepishly backed down and held his upper arm while lightly tapping the ground with his free claws. "I thought I offset it enough to..."

"No need to hide from me, I can keep a secret, you're safe." Miss Vanir promised and smiled as he peered at her house.

"Your roof's looking a little rough." He mentioned.

She chuckled again. "I knew that was comin'."

-<🌀>-

Normally, Spyro's absence wouldn't have bothered him and Elfie beyond some annoyance. The dragon missing class wasn't necessarily unusual; he tried not to let it become a habit but every few weeks there'd be an empty seat beside them. They understood when it came to Air Studies, everyone could tell he had it out for Spyro since they were Students, everyone knew he held Eon's kid to a higher standard. It was an odd mix of insulting, second-hand embarrassing, and definitely the opposite of envious depending on who you asked. Most were just grateful the old stick in the mud singled out someone else who could take it in stride.

That damned dragon put in a fraction of the effort and got just as good grades. Everything he got back was 'same as Elfie's' or a few percentages above one or both of them, always. He went home while they stayed to train, bailed when they sat down to reread their textbooks, rarely came back in time for dinner to talk about his day, sometimes he even took naps in the middle of the day as they did homework, and was always suddenly strapped for gold come pizza night. At least Elfie kept the house clean and made sure the fridge was stocked. If nothing else, the Lava Elemental could count on her to keep her act together (outside of her room, anyway, Spyro never left anything out of place or let a single centimeter get dusty if it was in his space).

His face twisted into a scowl and the edges of his assignment ignited. Stealth Elf, always prepared, quickly patted the newborn flame out. Jet Vac gave them a glare, but it softened quickly enough. Softened, not soft, but he was in a better mood than normal. They both knew from experience that it wasn't because Spyro wasn't there, not to this degree. His absence visibly relaxed Jet Vac's posture, but there had to be something else. Eruptor took a wild guess that the bird already knew what he was going to say to Spyro when he showed up again. It didn't stop the much smaller, less judgy looks he gave him and Elfie, nor did it give Eruptor any idea what he was going to tell the frustratingly dismissive dragon, but it was better than when Spyro was around.

He was going to drive Eruptor up a wall one of these days. The worst part was that the dragon was usually right. More often than not, Spyro knew what he was doing from the surface-level (relative to dedicated law classes) legal jargon and history to alchemy and spell scroll studies. All the glory, a fraction of the effort. Eruptor and Stealth Elf took all-nighters all the time, he never saw the dragon touch any of the textbooks they kept in the unit the TV sat atop, he never saw the dragon spend a second at the Arena or Training Isles unless it was to effortlessly breeze through them, and the dragon often went months without so much as joining them for dinner.

Why did he and Stealth Elf have to put so much work into keeping their grades up when Spyro skirted by like it was nothing? Why did he and Stealth Elf have to put so much work into the fight against the Darkness when Spyro could show off to the Students, Cadets, Neophytes, Protophytes, and Aspirants at the drop of a hat? Why did he and Stealth Elf have to put in so much extra time and energy to practice overcoming their weak points when Spyro was able to wave it all off like Eon was curving his scores? Which he wasn't, everyone knew he didn't do that, the so-called 'Headmaster' was really just involved with managing the Skylanders both directly involved with their success and completely unrelated, hardly even knowing how the system worked beyond updating the portraits of whoever was doing the best, and countless people watched him going through simulations and obstacle courses like they were on easy mode.

Why did everyone burn themselves out studying just for Spyro to put in minimum effort with time to take a nap? Why did everyone wear out every single muscle in their bodies until they couldn't even move a finger without it burning up while Spyro appeared, excelled, and stood above all their peers? Why did everyone work until they were falling asleep at their desks to find all of their weaknesses and ways to cover them while Spyro flew through breakdown-inducing warzones designed so only those who put in the extra thousand islands to become a Skylander even had a chance to succeed within their first few tries?

Why was it so simple for Spyro? Why was it so non-draining for Spyro? Why was it so perfect for Spyro?

Why was it so easy for Spyro?

Elfie, as usual, finished her work first. It was little more than a three-paragraph essay summarizing their choice of three out of five topics, along with a fourth regarding how one of them related to one of their other specialised Elemental Studies classes, also completely up to them. They didn't even have to write an intro or conclusion like every other essay and Spyro hadn't bothered to show up. There being no way for the dragon to know that was the only thing preventing him from figuring out how to get on his case.

Stealth Elf had the same thoughts pouring through her head, he could see it. She may have written everything down quickly, but she needed to put the same amount of work in and was just as liable to making mistakes as everyone else. The ninja was just as tired and just as stressed, she was just as worried about the result as Jet Vac sat down and started grading her paper right in front of her, leaving Elfie to stew in her thoughts. Her already very often over-serious face was darker than usual, he could see the individual hairs on the backs of their classmates' necks standing on end and a few dared sneak a glance at her expression, quickly regretting it and deciding their essay was more interesting than all of Skylands.

Both of them sneered at the empty seat. Eruptor was one of the last ones to complete the writing, it was hard to wrap his lava 'arm' around a wooden pencil without setting it alight, he could smell the smoke rising and already knew the metal part and eraser were molten. Elfie was clasping her hands together, with the force to turn them bright, pale green and leave dark red arches in the backs of her hands from her fingernails. He knew the whole class could feel their silent anger increasing for the duration of the writing and the short time it took for JV to decide they'd done well and release them early. It'd been a long time since he'd seen anyone leave so quickly.

Understandably, Stealth Elf had already packed her things and blinked out of the classroom before he so much as violently shoved the first book into his bag, meaning he was the only one Jet Vac could stop. "Eruptor-"

"What?" He snapped and immediately backpedaled. "Sorry, what is it?" A mirage of heat wafted off the top of his head.

Jet Vac's face contorted for a second but he quickly returned to his normal, annoyed, but overall neutral expression. "Send Spyro my way the next time you see him." He forgave and got off of his back.

The Lava Elemental nodded and rushed out the room as fast as his stubby little legs allowed.

-<🌀>-

It wasn't pretty, but it would keep the rain from damaging anything Miss Vanir needed. Spyro kicked himself for not knowing how to do more. The Academy offered a handful of trades as electives and he didn't study anything that applied. For some reason, the old biclops was more than happy with what he'd done. He couldn't wrap his head around it but between only getting a B+ on his Air Studies exam, Eon implying he didn't care about his team, the Final Trials coming up, needing to meet up with Cynder, the long shopping list he had, and all the cleaning he had to do, he didn't exactly have the time to question her gratefulness.

That was okay, though, he could skip a night to find something else to fix. Or maybe she needed someone to grab groceries for her, too, it didn't matter, nobody would turn down a dragon doing them a solid, he'd make it up to her somehow. Still, she figured out he'd gotten done with one thing and was waiting for the other boot to drop, just not what the many things on his plate were, and advised him to get some sleep before 'the big day' so he could be at the top of his game. He didn't have that luxury but agreed to make her feel better. Multiple shops were out of veggie bags but one of them had Stealth Elf's favorite cookies in stock, all-natural enchanted cinnamon and smooth butter cookies were a nightmare to find outside of one other location the Castle sometimes stopped within a kilometer of.

At least Stealth Elf would be happy, but he still needed to figure out something for Eruptor; he hated going out without getting something for them and just felt guilty when the only thing his other friend got was cooking supplies. Maybe somewhere had some charcoal bites. I'll figure it out while I finish the list, make some meds, meet with Cynder, spend the rest of the night hitting the books, and help out Miss Vanir when I get out. Why did I sleep in!? What was I thinking!?

Chapter Text

Eon's knuckles cracked and back popped as he got up from his desk. He put back his quill and the stack of papers he just finished signing or vetoing while rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. On the bright side, Spyro would likely never know this. He also could understand why Aurora wasn't exactly a fan of this kind of work, but that didn't make it any less necessary. Now that the most important and back-breaking part of running the Academy was finished, he took a moment to walk around his home and gaze out at the Castle, walking around the gaps in the flooring where magic flowed freely and the flying folk could easily access his services.

His Keep was wider at the top than the base, mostly floating via a crystal in the middle, around which the spiral staircase leading up to him was built. It gave him a wide view of all the Elements as needed and left plenty of room for all of his tomes, scrolls, the Relic Room, some storage, and his personal quarters. The old Portal Master calmly walked about the balcony, checking in each Element. They still swelled with some excitement since George's arrival, especially Earth, but something was wrong with Air. He'd hoped it was just the result of it being opposite to Earth's newly discovered Portal Master, but it was no less stressed since yesterday. No less powerful, far from it, but tense and turbulent. And he still had no idea what was causing it.

It was a rare occasion that he had so much time on his hands this early, so he made his way to the Main Library. While each section had a plethora of books connected to its specific Element, he'd kept a lot of the more generic, basic, or niche topics right in the middle of the island, a suggestion made by a lost friend of his who helped raise Spyro. It was mostly to make the bare bones magics more convenient, along with subjects like History or those that didn't fit comfortably into one Element, including the nature of all Elements.

While browsing the shelves, greeting Initiates and admiring his collection by lightly dragging his hand along the spines of every book, he started to notice quite a few were missing. A lot of his old portal magic tomes left empty gaps in the perfectly maintained series. They were easily the least touched of the whole Castle's selection, he was the only one here who'd ever even touched them and all the most advanced books that were beneath his level were kept beside him in his tower.

Eon paced around the library. There were a few future Skylanders of every level sitting beside some actual Skylanders brushing up on new and old topics for their classes and unique problems in the field alike. He eventually found all of the Academy's tomes on Portal Masters, portal magic, and many different papers giving rundowns on the Elements and some ways they connected. At the center of the pile of books sat George. He was leaning over one of them, he recognised the color of the cover to be the textbook his brother and Kaossandra often shared. It was about using magic items to vastly extend the range of their powers, if he remembered correctly, something he was plenty confident in. Some days it felt like they never looked up from that thing while he did a lot of his studying before bed. Despite his affinity for Light, Eon had never been a morning person.

"You're getting started faster than I expected." He remarked while giving the boy a friendly smile.

George looked up, politely nodded, and buried himself back in the tome. "I'm not spending a single second here that I don't have to. I know you want your Portal Master, but I have a little sister and parents waiting for me."

Eon nodded in understanding. What he wouldn't give to have them back. "The nature of portals in Skylands isn't an easy concept to wrap around. We might be capable of far more than what magical creations can do for a fraction of the energy, but getting to that point takes incredible study and practice just to move objects back and forth. You'll need a lot of time and training before you're able to step through your own portals."

"Because the amount of portals and their magic make travel unstable without something grounding it, I will explode, but some things like Portals of Power can make it easier." George added without looking up. "I can manage on my own."

The Elder Portal Master sighed, though with no ill-will. The boy shared his brother's drive, too. "There is plenty of space in my tower, I have some spare tables and chairs you can use. It'll be quieter." As respectful of Library silence as most Skylanders tried to be, it didn't change the fact they were made up solely of special individuals with great and often unpredictable powers.

"So you can have me watch you working with your Skyguards?" George finally looked Eon in the eye, raising a brow.

"Perhaps." Eon admitted. The boy was a smart and observant one, he reminded him of himself at that age.

"I'll make due-" George was cut off by the distant sound of something tipping over, another thing shattering, a heavy thud, and a small explosion. They were slowly joined by the coughing of soot-covered Neophytes. "Not. A. damn. Word."

He said nothing about chuckling.

-<🌀>-

JV's class would've been close to ending by the time Spyro got back from his self-imposed chores. He vaguely remembered he meant to clean up, but he didn't get into specifics; he'd have to investigate the house thoroughly. But first, he put away all the cold foods and reorganized the pantry to fit the rest. With a thrust of his wings, he threw himself into his room and flung open the closet. The blankets he kept in there hadn't been touched for quite a while, but he should probably wash them for the coming storm. Elfie liked having something to bundle up in, something about it reminding her of her tree, and she used some like blackout curtains to block the flashes of lightning.

His graduation gifts for them were still tucked snugly in the corner. His heart ached at being reminded that Stealth Elf's was smaller than Eruptor's, but he did his best to shove it down. Hers was a lot more expensive. His new potion ingredients were piled in the opposite corner, some small foam squares with completed potions and his textbooks were right beside them. Most of them were either healing potions or basic meds, settling the stomach or soothing headaches and such, though he kept a few others; some icy oils in case of a fire (likely, in their household. It'd been a miracle nothing got beyond needing to be pat down), fire resistance for the same reason, lightning resistance when the electrical box was on the fritz, darkvision so his nighttime studying didn't waste power, a few tubes for clearing brainfog, and he was pretty sure he still had one or two for focusing and energy. He'd probably use both of them tonight and needed to make more, anyway.

A bit of a drain on his funds, but he'd replenished them while he was out. There were plenty of Mabu and small businesses that were happy to cancel appointments so he could fix washing machines, dryers, AC units, faulty wiring, fridges, sinks, and coolers for a fraction of the price. It might not have been much per job, but he worked fast and it added up quickly. Maybe he'd be able to cover pizza this Friday! Then again, he wanted to have a party ready for the team... he hadn't spent anything on lunch recently, he could stretch what he had, it wouldn't be the first time he had to make some cuts besides what the Arena gave him.

He wanted to stop by there, too, better get some more training in before the Final Trials, but he still needed to sort through all his books. It'd been a while since he reviewed defensive maneuvers, it took him half a second longer to remember some electrical work than he would accept, and he was still struggling with Air Studies. He could make some time for the Arena tomorrow night after school. Elfie usually favored going to the Training Isles first, and Eruptor was probably working on Superchargers. He could study while they were gone and hit the simulations at night.

Now that his plans for tomorrow were set, he started moving quickly around the house. There wasn't much time before the team got back at all, meaning it was getting close to time to visit Cynder, so he settled for spot-dusting. He could make up for the lackluster job later; talking to the only other (known) Elemental Paragon was more important right now. They'd understand, whenever he explained himself. Spyro did a little bit of sweeping, but only under the counters and oven where nobody else hit. They were easy to forget and neither of his teammates got on the floor to awkwardly squeeze the broom into the cracks often enough. All sorts of old, charred, shriveled crumbs were buried under there.

The dragon then set out the variety of alchemy stuff he'd need for the night, stacking the ingredients and a small potion box on top of the textbooks he was going to flick through. Then it was close enough to time to meet with Cynder. Stealth Elf and Eruptor weren't back, yet, probably staying late for training. He was grateful he thought to check the clock before getting to work. But he chanced a glance back at his bed before heading out. Spyro slowly brought himself to the foot of the frame and reached under, between his cooler and box of scrolls, and grabbed the cardboard box and bundle of bubble wrap. He debated bringing them along for a moment, knowing he'd have to make the decision quickly, lest someone walk in on him.

It could loosen Cynder's lips... Should be fun, even if she doesn't say anything useful. He hummed and committed. Spyro kept the glass wrapped up, just in case, and dug through the cardboard box. He kept most of his heating bottles and hand warmers in here to turn away anyone who might've peeked under the frame. Maybe not so effective when the bong was right there but he hadn't decided where else he wanted to hide that. He folded back the light red rubber and small heating packs to grab the little green bag buried beneath, then slid the box back under the bed and left out the window as not to run into anyone with multiple incriminating items in his talons.

-<🌀>-

Fine, Eon's office is quiet.

Usually, the only sounds were the scribbling of the Portal Master's bright white quill, the occasional cracking of George's knuckles, and sometimes that mole-person running around with a stack of books and papers. The wizard appeared to be getting ahead on his work, signing off on whatever he could get his hands on and sorting them into piles depending on whether the forms could be acted upon now or needed editing. His Dad was the same way, he always got his work done as early as he could and finished what he couldn't the second the missing details arrived. It was a trait he did his best to pass down to George and Maria, but his little sister was a bit too busy playing with the dollhouse she'd gotten last Christmas.

He had to get home. Mom must've been worried sick and Dad would be gathering his buddies and their guns to search the whole neighborhood up and down while Maria kept asking why he hadn't come home. The light chill of a gentle breeze brought a puff of pollen and a sneeze that made him lose track of what page he was on, extra frustration with how absurdly much information was crammed into the textbooks. They were all divided into four parts by two vertical lines on each page and the center of the book, allowing the tiny writing to fit two pages of notes on one piece of old paper. His eyes were going to be glued shut with all the squinting he had to do to see the explanations for the diagrams, which were the only parts that spanned the whole page and were still on the small side.

His eyes were getting tired of all the overwhelming information and his head was starting to hurt, so he reluctantly pulled himself away from the desk Eon set aside and stretched. His neck ached like someone had driven a knife into it, he took an extra second rolling his head and shoulders before he got a better look at the towers of books, the gaps in the tower floor, the odd ways the paths curled and curved over the gold-decorated openings, the strange angles of the bookshelves, and the crystalline additions to the etchings.

None of them had a clear purpose, not to him. Gems and appraisal came up in the books but not any good descriptions, operating under the assumption the reader already knew how magic items operated and either possessed the knowledge of how to identify these carefully-cut minerals, or could have someone else do it for them. And George, of course, had neither, meaning he had nothing to go off of beyond the assumption a magical man who surrounded himself with magical creatures unlike anything he'd ever seen with access to arcane foci and materials hilariously far beyond modern science probably knew not to waste any of it on simple decorations.

Then again, George's bedroom was the same color as it was when they moved in and he settled for only a handful of video games that were popular with his friends; it wasn't hard to be way more vain and materialistic than him. But he refused to let it bring him down, he would get back to Maria and their parents sooner than later. He refused to distract himself with the minor details of a world he had no interest in (in comparison to getting home) extremely soon. Just one portal was all he needed, a short break and one portal home.

Eon had wandered off to the balcony at some point, overseeing the courtyard before the Skylanders' Academy. Some of the younger people waved at him, to which he smiled and returned the gesture as George walked up behind him. He wasn't sure why, but his gaze was automatically drawn to the sandy and rocky area in one-eighth of the massive floating island the Castle fortified. Tough, mountainous mounds of stone and lots of fine sand made up the space his little apartment sat, he could see the tiny building near the center of the isle.

There were some gothic buildings spotted with skulls and the massive bones of gigantic, ancient creatures beside it. It was pressed against the rocky side of the Earth place and looked like a cross between Bloodborne and a Dia De Los Muertos celebration, the splashed of color were spotty were discordant and made clear which areas were populated by those who eagerly fought against the aesthetic vs those who thrived in or didn't care about the crypt-dungeon look. George wouldn't have been one of the graffiti artists, but he wouldn't have stopped them. On the other side was a lush forest of downright alien plants, the two sections clashed violently and their divide was more obvious than the rest, which looked to blur together fairly well.

Some small glaciers and snow poffs littered the other side, containing a huge pool of water with plenty of icy buildings like igloos and snow forts on top and tubes and domes underneath. It started to bubble and steam at the other side, connecting to a much more strongly-connected landmass held together by black rock and puddles of lava. The buildings there all looked like forges and smithies. He doubted it was a coincidence they neighbored a shiny, constantly moving, clockwork, artificial landmass with what looked like small factories on the border and loads of spinning and coiling parts he didn't bother trying to wrap his head around.

That side ended quite abruptly with some small parts like bridges connecting to some scattered islands and large boulders. Those and some larger islands were afloat in another small sea of swirling colors, mostly purples and pinks with streaks of the rest of the rainbow slithering throughout in no particular direction for no obvious reason. The glittery not-water crystalized in some spaces, creating more huge gems that could hold homes and scholarly towers, many were rotating and dipping their structures beneath the strange flow. Other buildings were atop small rocks like a bunch of floaties chained together to make something like a platform.

But then there was the final spot. It was largely dead space like the purple-pink thing, just with clouds and lightly rushing winds instead of whatever pseudo-fluid was making sparkles everywhere. It used a lot of dragon wing-shaped propellers moving slowly like they were blending a thick slush to keep the houses and whatnot flying instead of arcane crystals. It whipped up some sand at the edge of where his guest home and had many lightweight bridges connecting everything, yet the wood and rope paths didn't sway or thrash with the currents. George couldn't put his finger on what felt so wrong about the Air spot, just that it wasn't acting right, as if he had any frame of reference. For now, he chalked it up to that being the opposite Element to what he'd been dwelling in.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Eon asked expectantly as the boy finished circling the expansive balcony.

He hummed and nodded. "But I'm not staying long."

The Elder Portal Master sighed but kept his friendly smile. "I know how it feels to wish for home so badly, mine has been gone for a long time, but obsessing over it will harm your efforts to return to your family more than it'll help." He insisted.

"I'm not gonna stop." George stated.

"And I'm not asking you to." Eon returned calmly. "The Skylanders are friends, they can help you get home if you allow them. You've already made an impact on Terrafin and I assure you, there are plenty of other Earth Skylanders waiting their turn to meet you."

"Speak of the Darkness and she shall appear." A woman announced.

Both Portal Masters turned to greet a woman around George's size with orange skin and blonde hair. It took him a second to see her body wasn't flesh, but crystal, like she was a video game character made of polygons. Her eyes were pure white and her hair was segmented with several small crystals making a short cut that swept to her right side. On her forearms and shins were large, thick, and rough rock cylinders like black brick armor, wider at the top and bottom with a slightly gold bunch on the fronts like they were covering seams. Her angular body was contained by a big black chest piece and shorts carved like upward-pointing scales. The top and bottom were connected like a gold-trimmed bodysuit tightly squeezing her huge, edgy muscles.

There were some smooth, rounded shoulder pads and a shining gold belt like that of a martial artist that flowed like a normal strip of fabric, but those were the only parts of her whole outfit that didn't look made of solid black rock. It was a miracle she was even moving, let alone wielding the gigantic barbell she casually swung over her shoulder. It had a sleek black pole with some square gold anchors attaching a brownish stone cube of cobble to either end, each a little bigger than her head.

"Greetings, Barbella." Eon smiled and bowed his head before addressing George again. "This is the Academy's best fitness instructor and body builder, you won't find many who can match her strength."

'Barbella' allowed her weapon to hit the ground. The bottom cube cracked the polished floor, yet she absentmindedly tapped the staff like it was nothing. A dim orange energy flashed in the cracks as they shrank and disappeared beneath the rock. "I'm a Sentinel Sensei. If ya need someone to teach you to use a polearm, come to me; I'll turns those dreams into numbers real quick."

"Thanks, but I need to figure out portals as fast as possible." He insisted and got ready to sit back down at his desk.

"Taking a break would do you some good, Portal Master." Eon held out a hand to stop him.

"Healthy body, healthy mind." Barbella joined in. "How about an hour or two, get the blood pumping?"

He looked between the two for a moment. Eon's asking-face was calmer and more smiley, but Barbella's was that of someone who took fitness very seriously and wanted to chat. "...Fine." He relented. This time.

"Great!" She exclaimed and hefted up her boulder weight. "Just some reps and you'll be done before you know it, no problem."

-<🌀>-

"So... how many colors do you have to mix 'til it..." Cynder slurred and mocked an explosion with her paws; when she was done, they flopped down limply on Spyro's horns.

Spyro's humiliating, high-pitched giggle carried through the trees and flowers behind them. Both of their amber and sapphire eyes had a red-pink tint to them. Their backs were to the soft grass and colorful flowers, their horns dug into the rich dirt, their legs kicked at the air, and the spines along the back of Cynder's head and his frill touched as they blankly stared at the islands above them. I should put this stuff in some brownies.

"Too many." He took way too long to answer, but he wasn't exactly in the state to care.

His disgusting 'teeheehee' chuckle started again, mixed with a cutely bubbly giggle from Cynder as if he'd told the best joke she'd heard all day. Maybe hearing his own laugh wasn't that bad, if Cynder's came with it.

So much for learning more about their kind, though.

-<🌀>-

Staying out of Cynder's library failed spectacularly. Eugenie was drawn back in by her collection, but the same could be said about the dragoness's bookshelf. There was a small handful of spicy romance in her selection, some dark fantasy, and a lot of textbooks. Some about psionics, plenty of dark and necrotic magic, and some air magic she'd taken a particular interest in. The aeromancy books felt like they were whispering her name on a light breeze, she wasn't sure what it was about them. All in all, it happened to look a lot like what Eugenie imagined her bookshelf would be if she was born in Skylands, just with less fantasy books.

The breeze flowing through her hair, the feeling of wind running along her fingers, the way her clothes ruffled and swayed, the sound of windchimes, the buzz of electricity, the ease of moving like she was walking on thin air, she held them in her mind as she memorized the symbols and descriptions of the flow of magic. How it was supposed to flow from her soul to her breath and fingertips, what items and mysterious arcane forces could be used to make it easier, why certain motions were required to keep the flow consistent and powerful, when to guide her emotions and energy in the right direction, where to point her focus regarding different parts of a spell.

It was a delicate balance that took more than a little finesse and lots of practice she hadn't had. But she could tell from the beginning (mainly due to it being at the top of many chapters) that mastery of momentum was key. Any novice could blow a decent gust or swipe an arc of turbulence, mastery required keeping the magic flowing in the same direction without wasting energy. Speed and agility were only the foundation, the body recommended for figuring out the basics, and she was a beanpole nerd who buried her face in books when she wasn't dieting or getting straight-A's.

One of the first tips she'd come across was doing a lot of breathing exercises, mainly using them to acquaint the body with the current before transforming it into true action. Jogging and gymnastics were also pretty high on the list; it looked like a bunch of 'healthy body, healthy mind' stuff someone overexplained for the sake of a word count, but she got the point quickly. Flexibility probably fell into that category, too, she could work with it. 'Breathing through her body' was noted in a box at the bottom of one of the first pages. The oxygen running through her veins, being inhaled through her nose with careful control and pumped throughout her body rhythmically by her heart.

It wasn't like she didn't already know the average heartrate and breathing rate, she'd taken P.E, she just had to focus on it. In and out, in and out. She found and kept track of the air moving through her lungs and blood pumping through her arteries, the way her chest rose and fell. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Feeling like an idiot, she sat there on the dragon's bed for a few minutes, letting the feeling of air moving through her body burn into her mind and devour all of her thoughts, living and breathing in the moment like she was flying free for the first time in her life.

She focused down the the slightest motions of atoms, imagining them rushing through the windows and scattering with the fan as they were pushed down to her level and breathed in. She divided them by nitrogen, oxygen, argon, and water vapor being drawn into her lungs by the vacuum of her contracting diaphragm and seeping into her bloodstream through her capillaries. Lighter and lighter, like she was weightless, it had to all be an illusion but her blood ran cold as she took in air, then warmed up like she was striking herself with lightning when she exhaled.

Certain it wasn't working, she opened her eyes to find the aeromancy tome levitating just above her hands on a stream of air. It thrummed up and down with the motions of her chest, not perfectly consistent but floating. The pages jostled and spine trembled as her breath hitched, but she fought to regain control. Up and down, up and down. White and gray wind pressed against the binding and flowed outward like the blurry wings of a hummingbird. Eugenie slowly and slightly adjusted her hands to make the airflow catch on the paper to turn back to the page she was on.

I did it.

"I did it!"

Her slightly deranged laughter sent the book flying across the room. It thudded against the wall and landed face down on the floor. Normally she'd be much more worried about the way books were treated, but she'd just cast a spell! She could do magic! She was an Aeromancer! Could she make tornadoes? Could she make hurricanes? Could she FLY!? Why make a portal when she could FLY!? She could fall and rise and dash and freeze and go anywhere and do anything! Eugenie looked at Cynder's fan, figured out which direction it was spinning in, and started swirling her hands in unison with the black blades. It took a second for the white whirls to start moving with the flow instead of pressing upward against it, but she had a faint and mini funnel catching on the edges of the fan that dispersed as she lost control of herself again, breaking into another astonished giggle.

No more of her Mom pushing her to become a doctor.

No more of her Dad pushing her to become a scientist.

No more of both of them pushing her to become a lawyer.

No more being looked down on by a bunch of university students pretending they were so far above her level when they were in the same class being annoyed by her very existence.

No more.

She was FREE.

She could do ANYTHING.

...She probably needed a shower... And clean clothes... And her own bedroom...

There had to be more people around the castle. Maybe one of them would be impressed by some Air Magic! Maybe she could do some favors for some more gold. Who knows, maybe someone needed a book thrown across a room! She steadied her breathing as she recollected the book and dug through her backpack for a bookmark, then headed out. The clouds were getting dark and dense through the cage-like bars covering the bridge to Cynder's tower. It had a gradual slant like a ramp, she could feel the swirling flow of magic running through the stones.

The Portal Master hazarded a peek through the bars to look down. It was a far drop with no visible ground under another thick cloud, but she could see the light blue glow of a huge crystal built into the bottom of the dragoness's room. Air ran through the pathway, it ran through her lungs, it ran through her body, it ran through her legs as she pulled away from the bars, it ran through her shoes as she hardly moved her leg to step forward. The toes got caught in the slight discrepancies in the cobble and she found it difficult to force wind through the sole.

Her arms flailed and feet slid like she was ice skating for the first time, which she kind of was, but there were no blades keeping her going in one direction. Jenny's legs slid apart and her knees smacked together as she slowly slid down the pathway, but she couldn't stop laughing, it sent her tripping over the rocks and almost landing flat on her face multiple times. And yet, with the biggest smile she'd ever had pasted over her face, she couldn't bring herself to regret any stumble, not even the harsh impact with the archway into the main castle.

The giddy girl held back on continuing to skate for the first time in her life but kept working with her hands. Using all four limbs, she found some stability and kept sliding down the halls. She used the walls and archways to lightly launch herself down corners and make turns, grabbing corners to fling herself around and pressing gusts directly against the obsidian walls. Honestly, she'd kind of forgotten she'd been looking for a bathtub and spare clothes when she started hearing heavy footsteps echoing down the winding corridors.

While flowing up and down more than she wanted to, she was still adjusting to the lift changing with her breaths, Eugenie managed to swerve closer. A small ruffle in the gold-trimmed carpet tripped her up a little as the source of the stomping. A set of three armored knights walked down the hall, the frontmost one almost crashing into her. Their armor wasn't scale mail but had etchings similar to reptilian flesh. Their chest plates had some arrow-like extensions going over their shoulders instead of proper shoulder pads. Other than some forearm and shin guards, the rest of their suits were extremely thick gambeson.

Their helmets were something between a Norse Viking helm from the movies, dumb horns included, and an English suit of armor with a moveable face plate. The eye sockets were narrow almonds covered in a fine metal mesh and there was a triangular dent outward from their mouths. They were armed with halberds, though they looked a little short for guards their size; one end with a classic curved axe blade opposite to a hook, and both with spear tips, along with some short swords attached to their belts by black leather sheathes with silver details.

"U-Um, hi!" Eugenie stammered and stopped floating.

"Hey, pal." The frontmost one answered. He tightened his grip on the halberd in his gambeson gloved hands, the other two did the same. "What'cha doing in the Crypts? Do you even know where you are?"

"A little bit?" She tried to stay calm and unassuming. His expression was hidden behind his visor but she could feel the suspicion burning through the eye sockets. "I'm just looking for a bathroom right now! Uh, Cynder invited me but she had to meet up with someone." She added in hopes they'd recognize the dragoness's name.

They all eased up almost instantly. "Oh! You're Cynder's new buddy! She's talked about you a ton." He explained as he flicked up the visor.

She would've been flattered if she didn't shriek and stumbled backwards. Cold air blasted her away from the small squad, landing on the thin carpet and black stone floor with a painful thud and rug burn as she frantically scooted and kicked herself back. The guard, the skeleton, took a step back. As the horns swiveled backwards and his face cover slid over the top of his helmet, his bone white face, his missing face, stared at her with a skeletal grin. He only had eight big teeth, the four on the upper jaw were grossly crooked. Both of his eyes were floating white orbs without any veins, each with blue-green irises and tiny black pupils. The one on his right was slightly bigger than the left, same for the eye sockets that were too large to be holding his disembodied eyes in place.

"Sheesh, what's got you rattled?" The skeleton adjusted his halberd to swing over his shoulder.

Eugenie stayed on the floor for a minute, blue and gray eyes darting between the three knights. Were they all skeletons? Were any of them zombies or vampires or ghouls? "S-sorry..." She took a deep breath and shakily exhaled. Wind rushed along her hands as she pushed herself up.

The terrified girl stumbled and tripped but caught herself eventually, taking another small step back. "S-Skeletons... W-W-Where I'm from... Living skeletons don't exist..." She tried to explain. "The dead coming back to life is kinda... apocalyptic..." She shrank.

"Ah..." He nodded his hunched head, making the visor fall partway down. "Well, these old ribs ain't gonna cage ya, just making sure you're not an intruder."

No ID or nothing? "Y-Yeah... I'm just-"

"Looking for that bathroom?" The skeleton finished. "We can get'cha some measurements for some new clothes, first. Your pal mentioned you might want some portal tomes, too, right?"

"A-Anything!" She agreed with forced enthusiasm to appease the undead knight.

He hummed and approached. "The name's T-bone, follow me and I'll get'cha hooked up."

"You don't mean literally, right?" She clarified.

"If that's your style, whatever you want, bub." The skeleton continued like it was nothing.

He gave her part of the tour Cynder promised as they walked down winding halls and crossed bridges between huge sections of the dragon's castle. She could see Cynder's tower from parts and fields of other bastions from others, all gigantic and littered with crystals glowing eerie greens and nauseating purples. They made her skin crawl and hair stand on end, this whole place did, she could see why her new friend was so eager to brush it all off and help some random girl find magic books in a far-away library. She didn't see why these Undead settled here, civilizations usually popped up around rivers and a valuable resource like gold or cash crops, but the Portal Master wasn't sure what that entailed for people who had no stomachs or similar needs. Maybe the Cadaverous Crypts had more than some dead roots and barren isles, she couldn't tell.

On the way to the seamstress, they passed a large portion of the castle that hovered in the tops of four massive gray gems that were chained together by the bottoms with their crowns built into the corners. Eugenie made some minor guesses on their function. She assumed there had to be another one of the big crystals that Cynder's room floated on built into the center of the obsidian fortress. Otherwise those gems were extremely powerful and would be more economic to divide among the other castles too large for their islands.

That fortress was absolutely enormous. Maroon banners with their horned dragon face draped down the sides, each looked the length of a skyscraper. Diamond shaped, it had crimson sone-shaped roofs on top and the bottom. Huge cannons almost twice the size of Mon's Meg lined the tops of walls and peeked through the openings in the huge stones. The barriers were covered in dense steel sheets bolted to the outside, all covered in lines connecting humming symbols that shone with deathly green and purple hues. It had bigger, more proper windows than the archer ports the other keep had, tall and gothic like a mega-church with silver, prison-like bars instead of stained glass.

All sorts of other gems held inn golden, copper, silver, or brass frames depending on which corner of the absurd stronghold they were on had been grafted to the outside, almost anywhere there wasn't a tall and thin window, a multiple-mile-ranged cannon, a flag taller than most cityscapes she'd seen, or huge drawbridge. The entire thing looked scaled for something far bigger than anything the Undead or dragoness could make use of, an artificial mountain coated in steel plates and walls lined with serrated spikes bigger than any lance. Countless high-reaching crystals were growing out of the body of the castle, piercing the infinite sky from the depths of the courtyard.

They were all deep violet with sparks of deceptively playful pink and shadows of pure blackness that reveal their true, malicious nature. Fumes of purple wafted off of their surfaces like a noxious miasma that tainted the very air she breathed, gathering in her lungs, waiting for the right moment to choke her out. Flashes of pinkish purple lightning cracked and swirled about the main towers on bother the top and bottom of the fortress, especially around the copper-fortified corner, it was as much a concentrated storm as a building.

Violet flames snapped around the corner where the gemstones were melded with the walls by gold, even fewer dead plants and almost no other Undead buildings existed around the brass and silver corners. All that was there was a pair of smaller, though still incredibly immense, castles built around more petrifying crystals. The two connected to the the gold and copper corners by spiked chains extended their defenses further but thinner while the silver and brass sides opposite to each other were dense and constructed tall, rather than wide.

"Take a wild guess why we don't go there." T-bone remarked and noticeably urgently ushered Eugenie along.

What the hell is in there?

That dragon on their banners couldn't be real, could it?

Chapter Text

Spyro cut himself off long before he started heading back to the house, not that it was anything to celebrate. Cynder took a short minute to clear up enough to start flying home. How fast she got herself coherent threw him for a loop. He thought he was one of the only ones who could walk it off like that, he was always the one who helped other Initiates get back to their dorms after they met up. Plus, quite a few of them didn't bother dragging themselves to class the next morning. Not without their teammates' intervention, anyway, but another worryless night bought silence.

Dinner was already set out; he could smell it from his room but had to get to reviewing. He wrapped his bong in the discarded bubble wrap and buried the rest of his stash under a pile of hand warmers and hot water bottles, tucked them back under his bed, and dragged his textbooks out of his closet. Technically they weren't his textbooks, he returned all of those as soon as he got them, just a few professors had deduced what he'd done: cheat with scrolls.

Taking some gold out of his pocket let him get a minor spell to copy his books onto blank ones. As long as he counted the right number of pages, he was set for as long as nothing burned down and never needed to return anything. The few teachers who put the pieces together were more impressed than he'd hoped Eon would be. Jet Vac was one of them, once upon a time, but that tiny moment of praise faded as fast as it came. That was fine, though, it worked for him perfectly. All he needed was the pages before and after all the credits and copyright legalese, then the knowledge was all his! The few pages saved had gotten him out of spending a few more coins and gave him another small book's worth of space between all the paper stacks he'd built up over the years. He even made some of all Elfie's and Eruptor's books so he could help them with their homework!

It wasn't the recent, advanced textbooks, either. All of the books he'd ever needed were stuffed in this closet. His teammates' relevant ones were on top of the ones he used, then the rest of the pile was full of previous years with the more recent near the top. Whatever it took to put keep them all ahead of the curb. He fished out the bunch of potion stuff next. His brewing tools were stuffed in the back inside some old Sky-Mail boxes full of bubble wrap and packing peanuts; a mini-cauldron, glass utensils, stirring sticks, thermometers, whatever it took. The dragon made sure he stuck another silencing scroll to the door, first, no reason to wake anyone up with all this.

And he did not need a minute straight of screaming at the top of his lungs until his throat felt like it was bleeding, thank you very much.

Maybe I should've taken another puff.

The words were blurring together but he found his copy of a copy of Intermediate Air Studies. He managed to avoid the brunt of Jet Vac's wrath through his early years, particularly as a Cadet, but he could only dodge this class and his other lectures for so long. He only got one class with the old bird at the end of his time as a Cadet, good times. There was more time spent with him as a Student, but he was tolerable back then. It got harder to avoid as a Neophyte, there always seemed to be at least a couple of classes where he was the only one available to teach no matter how early Spyro signed up for the next set. Elfie had gotten a Novice Tech Studies class with Sprocket even though she read the calendar wrong (she did not like mm/dd/yy) while he checked the forums almost every day near the end of the year and could only get the same lesson with JV, the same thing happened with Eruptor in Novice Air Studies.

His Protophyte and Aspirant years have been utterly hopeless for all three of them. Speaking of which, the super small words were blurring together even worse than the titles of all the books scrawled in progressively perfected cursive, but Spyro had the eyes of a hawk and a goal to achieve... And no other options.

-<🌀>-

Barbella took fitness extremely seriously, it turned out. Her routine looked even more exhausting than his Dad's and all of her weights looked horribly balanced. Each of them were made of one reasonably normal bar with boulders of different sizes stabbed onto the ends. They looked like nightmares to size and even if their weights did match as well as those of proper metal weights, they were different lengths. The set she was using beside him was especially egregious. One rock was larger and fairly round, covered in grooves and some flat spots where it'd been chipped away at, but the other was much longer and slightly thinner.

Lighter in color and an obviously different type of rock, the sides were blocky and angular, it reminded him of a bismuth experiment his geology class did but he didn't know if the design had a specific name. George may or may not have fallen asleep later in that lesson... the night before had been spent trying to get Maria to bed because Mom was sick and Dad was looking after her, he'd hoped the issue wouldn't come up beyond knowing what rocks were sturdy enough to grab when climbing, yet here he was.

It didn't appear to bother the Skylander, though. She powered through the hilariously horrible balance as if the weights were no different from the relatively even cubes on her weapon. Magic, he mentally threw his hands up in surrender, which he would not have been prepared to do just a day ago. An orange aura surrounded the rocks, leaving small streaks of light and spectral dust or sand as she counted off her reps with glee. What it did, how much it helped, or if it did all escaped him. All he knew was that Barbella was too strong for someone of her stature, just around two-thirds of his Dad's size but he couldn't handle rocks like that so easily to the point she hadn't run out of steam the entire session and occasionally flipped the staff around, against the assumption her magic evened out the rocks' balance.

George himself was provided some way more normal weights for each hand. They were both made of stone, but the rocks were far more professionally carved into polished orbs. Each handle fit snugly into his palms with just about an inch of extra space from either finger to the rock weight. He didn't actually know how heavy they were, he'd only been half-aware since he followed Barbella through the wizard's tower, Keep, Academy, and Earth island.

His thoughts were consumed completely by his family. Unless his Dad left the hospital when he was born, which seemed unlikely because he never left when Maria was born, then this was the longest time they'd been apart. Easily the furthest distance they'd ever been, too. How does one even begin to describe the distance of worlds? This plane was infinite islands in all directions, countless species of plants and animals were warring for territory over absurd distances that were just island-to-island to the wide array of people living here, and the flow of its portal magic made it particularly hard to get to. How the flying fuck did I even get here, he figured his parents would forgive his language this time. And how was he going to get back-

"Lingering on it won't make you feel any better, kid." Barbella stopped counting for just long enough to turn her head at him and return skyward. "181, 182, 183," she huffed and puffed, though the way she lifted the rocks wasn't that of someone who was tired.

"How do you do that so fast?" He changed the subject, waiting for a 'practice makes perfect' or 'lots of crunch time' to brush it off.

"You're not getting out of this that easily." She chuckled, rapidly hitting 200 reps and dropping the weights. The orange wisps dissipated into the ground, making some balls of rock full of sharp crystals pop out of the floor. So that's what it does. "How much magic do ya have at home?" The Skylander asked.

"How much magic would you say 'I'm getting thrown in an insane asylum if I ever talk about this' is?" He got up and walked to the stand where (he assumed to be) all of her handheld weights were stored.

Barbella snorted. "And you think you're gonna go from that to being able to walk through your own portals all the way home over what? A few days?"

She got up to return her weight as well. "I didn't get like this overnight, I spent a big part of my life working hard every day. Eventually, I opened my own gym to help others stay fit, too. I got famous fast; all sorts of people came in for a trainer who knew what she was doing and how to get them there. When someone called the Gulper destroyed it and almost killed all of my users, I took even longer to pick up a polearm and become a Sentinel for the Skylanders. Wanna know what I learned after all that?"

"Pacing is important?" George guessed.

"Yes, and don't think I can't tell you already knew that, but not what I was getting at." Barbella snorted again. "I learned that trying to force people to match one routine doesn't usually work. Yes, you need to pace yourself, but you've also gotta accept there's a chance you need more time to figure it out than the plan accounts for. Sure, if you're lucky, you might have a special knack for this and get home within some months, but you might also find it harder than you thought and only start making portals after a year.

"I get that you wanna get home as fast as possible, but flinging yourself at the library so much so fast will do more harm than good. You need to find your rhythm, make sure you take breaks, and let yourself get settled. Odds are you're gonna be here a while, you'll start making progress faster the sooner you come to terms with that." She finished her lecture and easily lifted her weapon over her shoulder.

"I can't just slow down." George pushed back.

She sighed. "That's what I said when I was your age. Listen, whenever you're ready to give it a chance, working for an hour at a time with fifteen-minute breaks is usually the best pace for efficiency, do with that what you will. It's getting late so pick a book from the tower you want to take to your place. Mysticat and Pit-Boss are both great Sorcerer Senseis, I'll put in a good word with 'em, you seem like a nice kid and we'll do our best to help out whether you work with Master Eon or not."

-<🌀>-

The seamstress's shop and bath were huge. T-bone brought her to both rooms like they were no more glorious than a corner store or pool, but both rooms looked like the inside of a mansion in their own right. The weaving room had several floors, each with some gaps along every third where some escalators carrying different colored spools of all sorts of materials up and down, connecting to a loading area just below them. The skeletons, spiders, and zombies were mostly stitching together suits of gambeson, crimson banners, and maroon curtains, but one of the piles of bones took pity on her guide as his bones clicked like a xylophone, shuddering at one of the giant spiders below them looking up at the fresh meat.

The other skeleton, she didn't catch their name while trying not to pay attention to any of the giant arachnids, quickly took her measurements and got to work on some custom clothes. Weird to think she was sort of being sized for designer clothing before she was brought to another, half as big but still huge room filled almost entirely with a bath. Purple flames lit torches along the walls and the water was already warm with some small tables holding toiletries around the sides of the few pool-like stairs.

T-bone stood guard just outside as she happily hopped in, unsure if it was the best bath she'd ever had because of some magic quality or because she'd been stuck in the same pair of clothes for the past couple days. I really owe Cynder, now. The shampoo and body wash were both charcoal scented, ironic with all the dragon imagery. Eugenie took her sweet time, T-bone said he'd nudge her new outfit through the door whenever it was ready and the water stayed wonderful no matter what part of the pool she drifted to. All she was missing was a face mask and cucumber slices.

It gave her a lot of time to play with her magic. She may not have brought the spellbook with her, but that didn't stop her from playing with her newfound powers. The girl pushed herself along the surface of the water like a skipping stone with only the irregular gusts bursting out of her hands, repeatedly chilling and drying her upper arms and sides of her chest as the air flowed through her body. She made little geysers in the water by sitting down on the tile and bursting her arms upward, then created spheres of bubbles by gently holding her hands beneath the surface. Like she was playing pretend as a big monster, she made little waves without breaking the bath's surface tension and created craters in front of her with cold funnels.

Could she start making water spouts when she got the swirling movements right? What about tropical storms that pushed down palm trees? Or shove icebergs through oceans? She needed Cynder to drag her to a beach! Maybe she could whip up a sandstorm! Or a blizzard or avalanche after FLYING to the top of a mountain! Who knows what she could do!? The only thing certain was that she'd been positively giddy when she got used to the walking skeletons and away from all the spiders, definitely grateful a rotting zombie hadn't been the one working on making her an outfit.

Her new clothes came when the door barely opened a crack. It consisted of a pair of brown leather boots and black leggings under a maroon long-sleeved shirt with some brown leather over the chest. There were some small, brown leather gloves laid on top of the pile and a very short black cape, only about the length of her shoulders to her waist, was folded neatly on top of the shirt so a gold ornament in the shape of the horned dragon emblem sat on top. It had a hood sewn in, but she doubted it'd ever stay on through all the FLYING she was going to do! Had she mentioned how excited she was to fly?

The draconic ornament sat right comfortably right over her collar. Its spiky edges kind of dug into her chest through her new shirt, but it wasn't anything she wouldn't get used to. There were some gems built into the eyes, very small and finely cut. One of them looked like a black diamond, but the other was definitely an opal. They were pretty, sitting beside her left and right shoulders respectively, though a little unnerving like the reptilian face was staring through her.

"How do I look?" She asked T-bone when she stepped out. Normally, she'd want to braid her hair nicely, but there wasn't a mirror nearby.

"Better than most of us." He waved off and started back down the halls.

They'd been heading back for Cynder's room when the dragon in question met them at the bridge back. She'd been staring at the walls like they'd sprung to life and swayed as she walked. It took a few calls from the skeletal guard to get her attention, the whites of her eyes were pinkish. While the smell had faded, she'd seen some of the university students with that same sort of face and unfocused looks. Someone had a very good friend... and she probably wasn't getting that tour.

The dragon perked at her presence and tried to string together a greeting, but failed spectacularly. A small part of the Portal Master wished she had her phone at the ready, but was mostly worried about the dragoness's wellbeing and a little astonished she was more capable of flying home than making sense. She was completely uncoordinated and flopped into T-bone's arms as he suddenly picked her up. Her little forked tongue barely drooped out of her mouth as her head thudded and platinum horns clanked against his armor. Despite his lack of a vocal chord or any form of esophagus, the skele-guard sighed like an obnoxious but regular occurrence.

"How 'bout we get a room ready for ya?" He offered. Eugenie nodded and snuck another amused glance at the floppy dragon as she stared in awe of all the nothing happening all over the ceiling. Someone had a VERY good friend.

-<🌀>-

Spyro could already guess it was going to be a rough day for Stealth Elf. Even with the curtains closed and his back facing his window, he knew by the time of day and low light that it was getting overcast, probably beginning to dribble. He'd been studying all night. On a(n arguably) lighter note, he was mostly coherent, bone tired and still shaking off last night, but functional. Tomorrow was the eve of their big day; he'd warm up with the arena one last time before it was shut down in preparation, sleep, and be ready to face the Final Trials by the end of the week. If he won, he'd finally become a Skylander! Otherwise... he didn't know what he'd do, he didn't know if there'd be a point in trying. He would win. He had to win. Or he'd be nobody. He'd be nothing. He'd be worthless.

He couldn't give up yet, he was right on the edge of his biggest challenge yet, but also his last one, he had to keep going just a little longer.

He wasn't sure where he'd find the strength, yet, but his entire existence kinda hinged on him figuring it out. No pressure.

The dragon wouldn't slip now, he couldn't slip now. Elfie and Eruptor were still asleep, he could feel the rumble of the Lava Elemental's snoring through his carpet and the elf, while quiet, would still be out of it because of her sleep potion. She might notice the half he reserved for himself was still there but it would hardly be her biggest worry. The ninja didn't comment any other time he passed it up, she certainly wouldn't with a storm on the horizon. Speaking of rain, he could hear it starting to tap at his window, the ninja would be waking up soon and he wanted the first shower so he could reapply his makeup before anyone saw him. Then the mirror would be fogged up, too, which he found a little more important for the rest of his day going smoothly.

Sure, being rained on wouldn't be great, but Elfie always kept a bunch of little ponchos in her room and his makeup was water resistant enough to get him between classes. Explaining to Jet Vac that he was high as a kite last night also wouldn't be a great time but the bird didn't actually care. In fact, he could probably just tell the old Skylander to his face that he was smoking with a strange dragoness and he'd still be ignored in favor of whatever arbitrary punishment was already prepared. Nobody else got punished for missing a class but Spyro was singled out every time it'd happened since the end of his time as a Cadet, it didn't even hold meaning anymore. Part of the dread vanished when he saw it coming, no matter what he did or how his results proved he'd spent the time studying. 'It didn't bother him anymore,' he insisted before waking up every day.

The house was quiet. Heat radiated from behind the Elemental's door and the ruffling of blankets muffled through the Forest Elf's. Tempting as it would be to stick by Eruptor's room for a few minutes, the warm water would do the same. He shut the bathroom door silently behind him, turned his head away from the mirror, and turned on the shower. It took slightly longer than usual for the water to get warm. Apparently, he wasn't the only one being kept up by the rapid approach of their graduation. The hot water was probably being drained as soon as it sputtered into the heaters. Spyro could deal with it, it wouldn't be the first time he was forced to go about his day before warming up.

The cold-blooded Aspirant savored the little bit of warmth he could as the draining water was again stained pink. Its gentle pressure on the ache in his neck was like a massage to him. Cool droplets poured down his sore wings and legs while searing hot ones leaked down his cheeks, along his jaw, and were shaken off his chin by the shakiness of his forced breaths. Claws acting on their own, he ran through the motions of tending to every individual scale and paying special attention not to let the soap get into his frill, he had a special product for that. He cracked his throbbing knuckles and blinked away the sleep and strain in his heavy amber eyes, then turned around and held his head high to let the water wash down his whole body.

Cold seeped into his bones and slowed his heartbeats as she stepped out. It wasn't hot enough to fully fog the mirror, he could still see a lot of the details of his form in the wet reflection. Spyro rushed to dry off before the condensation started to disappear even though he knew it wouldn't be that fast and fished out his makeup kit. Fighting looking in the mirror for as long as he could, he painted over his scars by memory, covered the dark bags under his eyes, wiped polish over his claws and the tips of his wings, rubbed oil over his scales and wing membrane, and added product to his frill.

And then he had nothing else he could do to stall. His eyes were squinted shut when he turned and blindly braced his forelegs against the sink. Not having to face himself jumping on the counter was worth the risk of knocking something over or landing with too much force. Besides, it was something he'd practiced for his whole life, from how much distance his paws needed to cover to quietly hit the ceramic to what part of the mirror he had to wipe the water off to see what he was doing when his eyes inevitably had to open.

When they did, only for a second, his breath caught in his throat and stomach flipped inside out. His insides felt like they were all churning at the same time in different directions, his vision was instantly drawn to everywhere he knew his cuts were hidden through no volition of his own. Taps against the wall echoed through the small space as his tail anxiously flicked, the room felt smaller and smaller as his grip on the edge of the sink tightened and his hind claws scratched the tile. The rising and falling of his chest froze, just resuming with a stabbing sensation like he was placed on a table and a sacrificial dagger driven through his plates.

Spyro slammed his eyes shut and almost smashed his snout on the counter with how fast he pulled his head away from the mirror and hopped off the counter. Don't throw up don't throw up don't throw up His talons scraped on the tile again as he caught his breath and prepared to jump back up. He didn't need to see to brush his teeth, just hold his mouth over the sink. The sound of running water helped him drive the knowledge of the mirror before him out of focus and he checked where the mouthwash was before peeling away. Having his eyes shut was the closest thing he'd gotten to sleep. His forehead tapped the faucet as he loomed over the bowl, running his forked tongue over his fangs to make sure they were all spotless and take some deep breaths.

The door creaked open and shut silently without him finishing rinsing. He didn't want to waste any more time making sure the stuff meant to clean was out of his mouth, and didn't need to. Nothing to do with the not-foggy-enough mirror. Changing to the next page of his book covered the sound of Stealth Elf and Eruptor getting ready for the day. Her footsteps were as quiet as Spyro's, but she was put off her game by the weather. He could hear eggs sizzling on Eruptor's favorite skillet and the pouring of orange juice barely made it through his door, too, the crack beneath that thing hid almost nothing. Hopefully, the new house wouldn't need any renovation. Skylander homes almost never did, as far as he was aware, more like a few days moving and redecorating per teammate.

He occasionally glanced up at the clock, waiting for the time to head to the Academy. It came faster than he wanted; he'd only gotten through one of the advanced textbooks. The dragon shot ahead of Eruptor and Stealth Elf, she'd already left the rain ponchos by the door. They were a little awkward to fit his wings into, but it beat his makeup running all day. Both were oddly quiet, though. He expected Elfie not to want to be bothered today, but the Lava Elemental? He usually liked rainy days, class got cancelled if it got bad enough and if it didn't, he still got a day of being in a hot tub as the water evaporated. It was probably just about the Final Trials.

Spyro reminded them they could come to him if they needed anything, but they barely responded. Elfie was acting all broody and mysterious like she hadn't heard him and Eruptor barely grunted in acknowledgement. They just need time, they're tough, he told himself as he adjusted the poncho and walked out ahead of them. For once, he slowed down as he wandered about the early morning. When was the last time he slowed down to feel the rain tapping away? When was the last time he stopped to process the sound of the water hitting the plastic? When was the last time he jumped in a puddle? Had he, since he was a fledgling? The vague memory of Eon laughing and smiling as he splashed and shook off the rain came to him, but that was it.

Not appreciating the aching nostalgia settling in his chest right before what he knew would be a long day, he picked up the pace. He and his team had different classes for their first period, he worked as fast as he could at the beginning of every year to get warmer classes first. He had Advanced Fire Studies, followed by Master's Alchemy. Both were easy, the first warmed him up for the day, and he loved the second. Even with Jet Vac hanging over his head like a sword, this, at least, should go quickly-

"Spyro, please come to my tower. There's someone I'd like you to meet." Eon's voice carried through the island right when he crossed over to the toasty, though steamy and slowly cooling, Fire section.

Quite a few stifled laughs poorly hidden behind their hands or wings joined the groan he let out. Right when he got to the only super warm part of the Castle. He shook off the rain gathering on his hood and started for the Portal Master's Keep.

-<🌀>-

George had been provided a small notebook and a basic pencil by the wizard. The strange man was obviously fond of the bright white quill on his desk despite the fancy ink needed to write with it, he figured it was something magical but nothing looked special about the documents he was signing. Just a second ago, he clasped his hands together like in a prayer and closed his eyes. The light blue gem on his horned helmet flashed, then he returned to normal like nothing happened. Not even five minutes later, someone knocked on the big, fancy wood door. He'd only been here for two nights but this felt very early for one of his students to be asking him about something. Maybe it had to do with the active Skylanders.

Eon cleared his throat and got up. "George, I'd like to introduce you to someone." He turned and called to the door, standing before it with his chin up and his hands behind his back. "Come in."

This was more along the lines of what he expected when the Portal Master invited him to study in his office, being bombarded with Skylanders trying to convince him to work with them. Barbella specifically, he was willing to forgive; she genuinely just happened to be there hoping to meet him. And she wanted to help out, even if her advice meant getting home later. The doors sounded like they'd been punched or kicked open and the hinges audibly needed some oil.

In pounced a light purple dragon covered by a sopping wet plastic raincoat. He peeled the drenched garment off of his vibrant scales and stood on his hind legs and the tips of his wings while folding it over his foreleg. His claws and some small spikes on the tips of his wings were incredibly pearly. They reminded him of a bracelet his Dad saved for months to get Mom for their anniversary. He could probably see his reflection in them.

The dragon was a tad lean, but mostly quite muscular. Not to the degree of Barbella, Terrafin, or his Dad, but noticeably well-built and took great care of his body. The upper arms, bases of his wings, chest, and the base of his tail looked a fair bit thicker, like they were purely muscle. A frill on his head and his wing membranes were extremely polished and cared for, as were the rounded rectangular plates lining his belly and a segmented spike tipping his tail. The only thing that looked even slightly off was the redness of his fiery orange eyes. It was early in the morning and in the short time he'd spent with the bustling Skylanders and students in the library, it had sounded like something big was happening. Maybe he was tired.

Although the little curved-back spikes along his spine were darker purple than the rest of his body. It was a little strange, especially with his frill and the tip of his tail being the same color as his other features, but he didn't really linger on it. Even some more pearl daggers would've made more sense than dark purple but he came from a world where abominations like the Angler Fish were swimming at depths he doubted the plane of floating islands could ever dream of supporting, a winged lizard having some miscolored spines on his back was far from the strangest thing here. George was going to ask how multiple elves who didn't have pupils could see before questioning the dragon about some scales.

"Miss me that much?" The dragon snarked and smirked. He sounded like the stereotype jocks he used to play football with.

Eon sighed but smiled. "Of course, Spyro." And turned to George.

"George, this is Spyro. He will be taking the Final Trials to become a Skylander at the end of the week." The wizard explained.

"What's today?" He asked, partially curious and partially trying the change the topic. He was reading about portals, not getting another proposal.

"It's Aguaday." The dragon answered, then perked up as if George's blank look filled him with life and energy. "Okay, the Elemental Calendar was made around 15000 years ago, right before the Arkeyan Empire's rise to power about a century or two later, it depends which source you read and what method of dating artifacts they used. It was based around the eight Elements except for Undead, there was a lot of fear and superstition about them in particular that led to most Kingdoms that adopted the system initially leaning toward the other seven Elements. The calendar was established right before the Arcana Conference which the Arkeyans first raided and held the dominant leaders and wizards hostage, so the Undead being excluded just kinda stuck even though everything got sorted out a month earlier.

The week starts with Vitaday, then Magiday, Terraday, Aguaday, Thermoday, the Final Trials are on Oxyday, and the ones who win (like yours truly) are graduating Artiday." He finished, though the little break felt forced. The dragon's smile didn't reach his eyes for the end of the explanation but particularly when insisting he'd already won, his eyes looked dull and he shook his head like a dog shaking off water before glancing to Eon. The wizard smiled and nodded but didn't say anything. Spyro avoided looking at him from then on.

"That's cool and all." He started like he'd caught everything the dragon said. "But I'm not here to become a Skylander, I'm just trying to make a portal home with, or without your help." George pressed to Eon. The Portal Master sighed but nodded while Spyro looked between the two like the notion of George, a random kid he just met, was even more ridiculous than just trying to island-hop.

His mind took a little longer to click than he expected, the dragon must've been really tired, but his eyes shot open like he'd been slapped when he put it together. "You're a Portal Master..." Spyro realized with a mix of astonishment and... was that hurt?

-<🌀>-

He'd been replaced.

Years of his life burned to light the forge, all used to forge countless tons of raw metal worth of simulation drones and the Training Isles, a thousand bruises collected to shape him, even more fireballs to enchant him, a hundred scars to sharpen him, tomes and elixirs taking up the majority of his closet to enchant him, gallons of blood to temper him.

And he was replaced.

Every hit that ever scale took, every time his claws bled to parry a weapon with his bare paws, every drone he tore apart like an animal snapping and flaying with his fangs, every dodge made with the beats of his wings, every pair of legs swept out from under an opponent with his tail, every target melted with a big breath.

And he was replaced.

All it took was a week, less than a week. Maybe not even the few days since he last chatted with Eon. For all he knew, George showed up this morning and already got himself the seat in Eon's office that Spyro never did. All it took was one Portal Master. One Portal Master, and he'd been swept aside like he wasn't even there. None of the years of investments the wizard put into him compared to a single Portal Master who, by the look of his worn jeans and hoodie alone, was not from around here and had little to nothing in common with Eon beyond some facial features. Spyro used to ask all the time if Eon had some time or wanted to do anything and always got the same answer, George already had him requesting an apprenticeship so eagerly that he wasn't even waiting for the question to be dropped.

He'd been replaced by someone who didn't even pretend to know the value of Eon giving his attention, by someone who didn't even pretend to care as much as Spyro.

He'd been replaced by an indifferent at best and spiteful at worst newcomer who Eon just met.

And he had the Portal Master off his back.

Eon wouldn't be bugging him about not being far ahead enough if he was mentoring George, Eon wouldn't be watching him in the arena if he was mentoring George, Eon wouldn't be criticizing his every failure if he was mentoring George, Eon wouldn't be paying attention to him if he was mentoring George, Eon wouldn't be looking down on him if he was mentoring George. If he mentored George, the older Portal Master would finally be out of Spyro's way. Stealth Elf and Eruptor would probably get more acknowledgement than the dragon he raised, any Skylander would probably get more acknowledgment than the dragon he raised. If he could get George to agree to an apprenticeship, then he'd have even less time for Spyro.

He'd be alone, but he'd be alone without a pair of bright blue eyes watching his every awful mistake.

-<🌀>-

Several, vastly different emotions flashed over the purple dragon's face. Eventually, they all appeared to cancel out and leave him with a blank, neutral face. Spyro lightly shook his head and blinked very rapidly for just barely a long enough time to be uncomfortable. The light awkwardness kind of reminded him of his friend, Oscar. The two were such polar opposites that it was a miracle they somehow became friends. George wasn't sure what drew him and the whale-obsessed nerd together, just that what stood on all-fours before him was exactly what that guy's impression of a classic movie football player was; unnatural to those who were looking for it but it would fly under most people's radar if he looked the part and didn't interact much.

Being (presumably) Eon's favorite, George could imagine his peers just got close enough to gain some recognition if they could and spent the rest of their time making other disingenuous relationships that would either never last or hold when it counted. He'd gotten familiar with the type, they were all over the school's most popular socials pages. The dragon's eyes got a little watery and his already sluggish movements projecting forced bravado like he was acting off a list of instructions got a little unsteady. His wings drooped for a split second before they shot up above his back like they were flexing and his tail twitched like that of an agitated cat before it was visibly forced to stay still.

Only for a fraction of a second, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it glimpse, but George was staring right at the student as he recalled his wierd buddy while Eon sighed and turned away.

"A-Anyway, I still have some classes to get to. It was nice to meet you!" Spyro bid farewell as he pulled the clear raincoat back over his head and jogged out the door.

The Elder Portal Master turned to the dragon as he exited. "I expect you to really be studying, this time!"

He blinked for a moment, processing the encounter before Eon snapped him out of it. "My apologies for his behavior. I'd hoped he'd be willing to interact before he wandered off to whatever party he has planned this time."

"Partying?" George asked.

"Spyro's discovered a fondness for throwing parties for every occasion. His peers might adore it, but they're all meant to be taking their work seriously." The old man huffed. "I can understand taking a break and making light of an accomplishment, but renting a sunny spot for every occasion is a waste of the allowance the Neophytes and higher are given."

Agree to disagree, George hummed as if the two came to an understanding, not in the mood to start a debate with a man he didn't know and wasn't interested in learning about if it didn't get him home sooner. If Eon could bring up financial records proving the dragon spent gold for what he assumed to be textbooks and a reasonable amount of fun on a bunch of parties and that he hadn't done yardwork or similar to fund the festivities himself, then George would take his side. Even then, he didn't actually specify how frequently it happened, and the boy doubted he'd have a real answer when pressed. There was an old man down his street who asked why a graduation party was necessary in such a little town.

He also had a little sister who loved talking about her super cool big brother to all of her little friends in the smallest town in the state, she'd been the one hundred and fiftith member, George knew what people looked like when they were told they couldn't play and that wasn't it It wasn't his problem...

George hadn't even moved from his little table for the whole interaction, if it could be called that. He should've been able to get right back to studying portals, as he'd done for the last day and the rest of the morning, but he wound up rereading the same few passages multiple times before he rubbed the back of his neck and scooted away from the table full of tomes.

"I'm taking a walk." He informed Eon before following in the dragon's footsteps.

"Any one of the Skylanders can tell you where to go if you get lost." Eon stated before returning to the last of the very small stack of papers on his fancier desk.

"Thanks. I should be back in under an hour." George added on habit, his Dad taught him to always let someone know how long he'd be gone. It was mostly for camping trips but a good instinct, anyway. Not that it did him much good when he was washed up in a sudden storm covering his tracks and drowning his scent. I'll get home soon... I just have something I have to do real quick.

Chapter Text

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. I'll figure this out somehow.

The growing chill in his bones continued slowing his heart. He didn't go to Advanced Fire Studies, he couldn't. He couldn't be seen like this. Spyro glided to his quiet, isolated island and hid under a tree, holding his head high to keep the tears from flowing. His makeup wasn't that water resistant. The tips of Spyro's wings almost buckled under his own weight, they were the only thing preventing him from slamming face-first into the bark and mud, his hind legs had already given out. What was he, if not Eon's chosen champion? What was he if not a Skylander? What was he without Eon?

He was... Relieved? No, that wasn't it, that couldn't be it, he wasn't even a Skylander and he was already losing it. This is why he's getting rid of you. He must not have shown enough of what he could do! He must need to last more waves in the Arena! That'll show him! Completing the Final Trials won't be enough. Why would they be enough? All Skylanders completed them! That was the point! Spyro just needed to go above and beyond! He'd given his all for the entire year, for years, he needed to put in a little more, cut out a little more. He might as well reshuffle his whole schedule. Artiday should be a good time to do it, right after graduation. When he was officially a Skylander, he'd rework his time to train and study more. Skylanders could repeat the Trials whenever they wanted, even add onto them after an amount of attempts, he needed to show Eon his results!

He might miss first period, but he'd have himself together eventually.

-<🌀>-

Jet Vac almost missed the dragon walking in. Buried in the usual hustle and chattering of Spyro's class, he slithered and prowled through the small crowd as silently as Umbra-Sol used to, though with none of the leadership, integrity, or wisdom. What the bird wouldn't give to have him here now, that big old tree could straighten Spyro out with just a few choice words. He didn't have time to dwell on it, he had a lesson plan to finish, he could wonder what had changed after the dragon got through his extra assignment.

Less noticeable but just as surprising was Stealth Elf. She blended in easily with the swarm of future Skylanders; already not standing out much and keeping her head low. The ninja didn't teleport to her seat and glared at her desk while her gloves clawed at the top. Her classmates gave her an especially wide berth as they got sorted, neither of her teammates talked to her, and her pointy ears were pinned to the sides of her head with tension. Strands of blue hair poked out of her braid and there were some bags under her eyes, though they were cut off weirdly. Did she try to cover them with makeup? She'd never struck him as the type, it was probably just the angle.

The class went suspiciously smoothly, too; Eruptor burned more parts of his assignment than normal but the Elemental didn't make a scene, Stealth Elf took a fraction of a second longer than usual to pat out the flames and listened to the lecture without looking up, and Spyro was concerningly quiet. Two looked like they were seething, almost twitching with rage, yet the most frustrating student of all appeared greatly distracted. He couldn't tell if any of them were paying attention, the ninja's ears were angled toward him when they weren't caught tight to her head but she didn't lift her head until she had to. Eruptor was staring at the chalkboard, but wasn't seeing it. Spyro was the same way, though that was fairly normal.

Still, nothing had happened when the bell rang. Stealth Elf disappeared with her usual speed and Eruptor began to storm out, both angrier than normal but keeping to themselves. Jet Vac could check on them later, he stopped Spyro before the patience-testing dragon could escape. Just in time, too, he was in the middle of flaring his wings and some of the water sticking to his poncho splashed onto the bird's armor.

"Not so fast." He lightly held the absurdly pearly joint of his wing. Rainwater dripped all over his talon. "For missing last class, you'll be catching up-"

"I have to get to Advanced Earth Studies, train for the Trials, and get ready for my graduation." Spyro ripped his wing out from under Jet Vac's claw and stepped back to take off again.

"You can worry about the Trials when I dismiss you. I have a list of five topics, you're going to write a paragraph about how each of them relates to one of the other Elements before you step a single toe out of this classroom."

He stopped to cock his head. "All that for a paper right before we're out of your feathers?" Even his wings paused mid-flap for Jet Vac to put a hand on one again.

"You only had to do three if you were here yesterday." The vibrant scales were colder to the touch than he was ready for. At first, he thought it was just the chill of the water, but he could feel the

Both of them huffed and Spyro hopped back up on his chair. Jet Vac slightly spitefully took his time recovering the rubric and some paper for the essay. The dragon got to work right away, a welcome change of pace. Meanwhile, the bird got to work grading the far more basic worksheets for today. The rain idly tapped at the translucent shield surrounding this tower's open top, making the dome faintly flash cyan as cold water rolled down the sides.

There were no normal birds racing home anymore and the Superchargers, save for diving and Air Element ones, were stowed away for safekeeping. Resilient as they were, even the Rift Engines could be sensitive if something dripped down their exhaust pipes or dripped under the hood. The Tech Skylanders were getting tired of putting them back together after the Initiates underestimated how fast they could go compared to a gradually-gathered gallon of raindrops shooting between panels, especially Sprocket. A few of the younger Skylanders were dashing between the heavy gray clouds like flies, colorful spots against the endless sky.

Clearly, they'd never been hit by a lightning bolt. He wanted them to have fun while they could but made sure to glance up to them every once in a while, just in case something went wrong. Most of their carefully selected individuals would be plenty fine after the fall and a checkup, but there were a small few younger and more fragile folk walking about their halls. Looking after them was how he became a Skylander in the first place, it cost him his wings way back when he was a Shield Maiden and carried him all the way through to today... where he was teaching an unteachable dragon in vain. There were a lot of Skylanders better and worse suited for the task, but the best fit had been gone for a long time.

Stump Smash was practically a forest come to life just to fight. He had no hands to guide and nurture, just crush and squish. Anger, especially at the ever-polluting and deforesting Trolls, was what drove every step of every charge. He couldn't settle, he couldn't sit back and work while his students learned, he couldn't teach. It was for the best that he didn't live around the Castle with the other Life Skylanders, let alone try to manage a class without so much as the ability to hold a piece of paper.

Drill Sergeant may have been built to gather a rotten empire's resources, but he was born for the battlefield. Nothing could rip him away from standing with his fellow Skylanders against the worst the Darkness had to offer, not until his dying day, which Jet Vac feared was rapidly approaching. His own willingness to put down his Vac-Blaster as his speed failed him and youthful vigor faded was what first lead to the two drifting apart, despite the years of battle against Kaossandra's and Malefor's minions they'd spent together. Even that ancient Arkeyan's mechanical joints and power core would catch up to him, even enchanted gold would tarnish and steel rust, Drill was no Chop Chop, he just hoped they might be able to reunite at their 2nd's memorial one last time.

That, and the machine couldn't grade papers or present a slide show, he tried to force a small chuckle. It didn't work, all the failed warrior got was a smirk as he popped open a compartment in his desk. Tucked into the side, away from the spare pencils and other assignments sorted by finished and unchecked, was a small picture. Umbra-Sol was the backbone of their little team, he never stuck to one group for long, he took it upon himself to teach newly graduated Skylanders.

It was an often thankless job. Jet Vac, too, was an often arrogant and reckless kid when he came out of the Academy. He, Stump Smash, and Drill Sergeant didn't consider each other on the same level back then; him getting the Vac-Blaster from Eon to compensate for his ruined wings didn't help. But there were things Eon and the professors simply couldn't teach, things that big, old, impossibly patient bundle of glowing white roots and shadowy bark was smart and powerful enough to hold the line while driving the lesson in their well-meaning but thick skulls. They didn't have to say anything or spend a lot of time at the memorial, just seeing each other one last time would be a dream come true.

"Done." Spyro growled. He could tell by the dragon's tone that he'd said it multiple times before he snapped out of it.

"I don't appreciate that tone, Spyro." He glared and took the page, impaling the top of it on his black claws.

The Aspirant sneered but said no more, oddly quiet. "What's going on with you today?" He asked before the dragon turned back.

Spyro recoiled like he'd been slapped, needing to stand and stare at his teacher for a minute before he could respond. Definitely out of character. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't laughed or brushed me off, you never made any jokes, you didn't try to get out of doing the paper. What's going on?" Jet Vac asked again.

The dragon blinked and stared like he'd grown two heads. "We've been nothing but the banes of each other's existence for years, why would I tell you anything?" His blank amber eyes contorted into a glare.

"Because it's my role to help as a Skylander and your professor. Whether you like it or not, there's a reason I'm here." Jet Vac explained. If you knew what a Skylander was, you wouldn't be asking that.
He couldn't quite put a talon on the sound that poured out of Spyro's jaws, something between a cackle and a choke. "No matter what I do or don't do, you glare me from across the classroom at best or shout at me at worst, I'm not telling you a thing if my life depends on it."

Bright orange flames and clean white smoke flicked out of the dragon's nostrils. His amber eyes further narrowed and the old but keen man could hear the screech and feel the vibrations of his pearl claws ripping into the stone floor. His tail twitched and curled, hitting the legs of one desk and knocking over the chair of another, but the dragon didn't react to either of them as his carefully tended fangs ground together like flint and steel. Fire crackled within his throat and embers flashed between his sharp teeth, reflecting in their curved shine as if they were mirrors.

"I'm only here to teach and help, Spyro-" He tried to continue.

"Help- You know what? Why am I even humoring you? You've only cared about getting me out of your hair or this crap!" He dug a claw into his essay as well, stabbing Jet Vac's desk. "If you think I'm gonna fall for that, you're gonna be a lot more disappointed."

Spyro finished and started walking toward the door despite the bird shooting up and calling his name, threats of his behavior and damage to Academy property being reported to Eon getting ignored. There was another small detail he almost missed, one he would've missed if he was looking at anyone else. That dragon turned his back on this classroom plenty of times, almost as often as he got on the professor's last nerve, even when he didn't attend and just stopped by to meet his teammates, Jet Vac knew what color the short spikes along Spyro's back were.

"What happened to your scales?" He paused.

Jet Vac's rant coming to a screeching halt, ironically, was what got Spyro to stop and barely turn back. "What about them?"

"The plates on your back, they're usually-"

He didn't even get to finish before the dragon reeled, flaring his wings again and shooting up through the tower's shield, leaving a light blue ripple effect like a pebble through water. "...Orange."

...He was suddenly a lot less willing to let Spyro vent to him, anyway. Their differences and how annoyingly much he reminded him of himself aside, he had a new paper to grade. Besides, he could understand why the dragon didn't want to talk, he was the same way with his father at the kid's age. By the winds, that felt normal... He shivered, 'kid.' The chair scooted away as he flopped back down and sighed. What was he supposed to do about that damned boy? He was setting himself up for failure if he kept going on like this. Maybe failing the Final Trials would be what set him straight? He didn't want it to come to that, but there might not be another way for the dragon to get it in his head.

Jet Vac looked back at the picture of his spit team. He had just recently gotten his Vac-Blaster and was hovering by Umbra-Sol's light brown and deep black branches and orange leaves. One of them was tickling his cheek and some of his feathers had gotten stuck in some of the stringy, mycelium-like roots running between the leaves and twigs. Stump Smash was standing by Sol's right leg, the width of his entire body, with his hammers raised in victory. A Troll helmet was hopelessly dented and deformed around one of his mauls, it'd taken forever for the giant's writhing roots and vines to peel it off of him, JV laughed at the chopped tree the whole time.

Drill Sergeant was off to the side, between Sol's other leg and the bottom of his gigantic staff. Most of it was tightly wound branches that flared out at the end, sprouting some leaves with their pointed tips turning black as they coiled around like the air in a tornado with some smaller twigs poking out, one of them was grazing the Arkeyan machine's left drill. Up the staff, the branches twisted and turned, their shape uniform but the rod or mechanisms inside the staff weren't a perfect line; they made a subtle arch to one side and straightened up to the treetop-ish leaves and branches and blackened tips around the base of some different-sized rings containing an orb of glowing golden dust. Streaks of gold light and sparks of angular lines like constellations zapped through the gold dust.

Some of the dust made flowers bloom and mushrooms grow all along Sol's wooden body and staff. He lacked the thick moss Tree-Rex had, but massive fungi lined his left side where a sheathed sword was melded to his hip by branches and faintly glowing white roots and pale tan-gray mycelium crawled up his right, where it bloomed and blossomed like yellow flowers with orange tips. His gut was made of many brown roots, bland mycelium as thick as Giant muscle, and had some holes where squirrels and birds liked to nest. He adored the animals that made their homes in him, naming them things like 'smolder' and 'blaze' and 'phosphor' and allowed them to munch on the seedless apples that grew from his canopy.

More, enormous, orange-yellow growths flared out of his neck like a large collar. Where they had collarbones, Umbra-Sol had a trench around his neck and the extremely solid hunk of wood making his chest. It didn't look very big from the angle of the picture, being covered by the pure white, gold-trimmed sheet wrapped around it, anchored to his left shoulder, and draped over his right shoulder and upper arm like a cape. The two left arms holding his staff were thinner than the one large one on his right, which was as thick as his legs and usually held his staff, but he changed arms for Jet Vac to fit in the picture.

His shins and three forearms were gray, the wood was smooth and much tougher with a small shine like metal. The few ridges were spirals around the limbs instead of the normal grain of a tree, they looked like the exoskeleton of an insect. His upper right arm had it to, but it was covered by the cape, both of his left arms were just dark brown wood. Branches framed his fungal collar and sprouted out of his largely featureless triangular head like he had bony wings and hundreds of horns. There were a few small nests carefully cradled by the twigs, he vaguely remembered the yappy little bird that lived in one of them. 'Rocket' Jet Vac believed to be that annoying thing's name... Wait a minute-

The giant's hands were bright white, fading out of the gray armor near the wrists. His long fingers acted more like tentacles or vines that absentmindedly coiled around whatever was in reach while Sol was lost in thought, but he kept the illusion that they had bones when he was focused and fighting. The tree's massive head, as big as Jet Vac was, was like an upside-down prism, narrow and flat from the side with no jaw but very shield-like from the front. White roots and some sturdy branches were his neck and small fungal protrusions like tiny antlers lined his 'spine' and 'throat' like a small mane.

His five, almond-shaped eyes were completely black, three closer to the canopy and two near the rounded tip of his face, it looked like the tip of an arrow or the Sun Runner without any of the gold spikes. Totally void and reflecting no light, they were as haunting as the Darkness they fought side by side, and he was eternally grateful for all the time they spent together. What he wouldn't give to see that big oaf one more time, he had so much to say and so much to ask. Why did he leave everyone? Why did he curse that forest? What were he and Eon arguing about? Where did he go?

Why couldn't he even say goodbye?

-<🌀>-

The Cadaverous Crypts were more than a little terrifying, but the areas surrounding them were... oddly lively. Eugenie's new boots crunched and kicked the small pebble paths. The proper roads were no different from the very fine, though not quite like sand, rock dust most of the islands were covered in, just a bit patted-down. Everything looked within walking distance in these small, scattered, yet deeply connected towns. Almost every single one of them was an entirely separate hamlet, yet they all functioned and interacted like a single coherent city full of life, despite the inhabitants' lack of it.

Vampires, zombies, skeletons, mummies, and ghosts all moved between the bridges or just floated between isles of all sizes. Some of them were buying cute jewelry like bracelets and necklaces modified for people whose wrists and spines were too thin to wear them without the rings falling off or sliding down to their elbows and inside their ribcages. There were a few food stands selling cupcakes and similar treats decorated like little candy graves or jack-o-lanterns. The whole place kept changing between smells of cinnamon, chocolate, French vanilla, hazelnut, and various fruits; and those were just the scents she'd walked by recently.

A cotton candy stand in the distance made her mouth water and the sound of absolutely ecstatic trumpets honked across the gentle breeze. Cold as it was, the sizzling of grills and pans kept her as warm as the hotdogs and kebabs. The shadows of the heavy clouds and other islands washed over the crowds of Undead picking apart whatever snacks and trinkets their gold pouches could buy. A zombie accidentally ran into her shoulder and apologized like he wasn't a creature made of rotting(?) flesh. His skin was mostly just green with some missing patches and disproportionate eyes, she didn't get a good look before he disappeared into the swarm. Some skeletons were playing their ribs like xylophones or hitting drums through the horde and skeletal birds soared overhead, swooping down to fight over scraps.

Cynder, out of a violent cloud with brightly burning cyan eyes, appeared with two sticks of bright pink cotton candy and a big smile. "See? We're no different from the people at Stormveil or the Mabu. Just a bit bony."

Eugenie accepted one of the sticks and took a bite. It was incredibly fluffy and she could already feel a few strings sticking to the tip of her nose. "Is it like this every day?" She raised her voice over the crowd.

"When the guards are off, yeah." The dragoness gestured her onward, holding her hand with her tail and walking on the tips of her wings. "And when they're not, the kids are fighting for graffiti space."

She jabbed a talon to the left without looking where she was pointing. Pasted over a big, stone wall were gallons worth of brightly colored paints. No grays or whites or blacks or browns, all extremely vibrant and greatly stylized depictions of creatures she didn't know. A few, based solely on the art style, looked like comic book characters, but there were quite a few of very realistic paintings of who she assumed to be famous people like musicians other artists. This certainly sounded like the kind of place that made a lot of the sort.

Speaking of which. Cynder froze and pulled her toward another mural. She couldn't tell what the wall it was painted on blocked off, maybe it sectioned off the side of a hill, but it clearly only got cleaned by whoever wanted to make sure it was in prime condition to fix and improve upon the image of a skeleton with the face of a sugar skull and the string of a red and black sombrero tied around his shoulder. His tap shoes were sleek black and had golden spurs and gold soles, his pants were black with a red strip along each leg, and a big gold belt covered the seam between the pants and his tuxedo-ish jacket. Some trumpet parts stuck out of the frilly red pockets over his ribs and one of his clawed, skeletal hands held a trumpet with a bright red mouthpiece like a pistol.

"This guy used to play around here all the time, then he and his band got called to perform for a greedy rat's personal court. The count wanted to let a robot army loose." Cynder explained while throwing an arm over the Portal Master's shoulder. "I think he was trying to hold people and villages hostage for gold, maybe some more specific garbage, but he and his band helped a group get through the guards and kick him back to his little mansion. Sometimes he still visits but he mostly sticks to pissing off the man and playing for his pals." She grinned.

Eugenie barely had time to process the story before she was being pulled through the crowd again. The dragoness was unusually bright and upbeat, going into great detail about all of the landmarks and artwork covering the walls. In the rare event she didn't know what a painting was trying to convey, the thought didn't leave her until she figure it out, often through asking one of the vendors or kids hauling bags of spray paint cans almost as big as they were. They both worked on replenishing their makeup kits and checked out the handmade clothes, both keeping their eyes on some scarves and ponchos.

By the time the day was winding down, they launched a ball at the speed of sound at a target to send a zombie dressed as a clown into a vat of goo (maybe some of her magic came into play, that dweeb insulted her hair), gotten a handful of about every homemade candy and pastry, danced around mariachi bands playing 'Fiesta's' signature songs, tried their hands at some basic paints, and walked all around a ton of cultural centers displaying old intruments and picturtes of musicians making history all across Skylands.

Mabu, Elves, more Undead, animal people, and more were crowded around bundles of bones holding violins, guitars, and flutes captured in images of increasing quality from blurry black and white to HD snaps of the colorful trumpet skeleton playing beside a water dragon with fins for wings and seashell-like horns and a cobra in a woven basket playing a wooden flute or clarinet or recorder. She never signed up for many music classes, let alone qualify as a musician. She didn't mind brushing against zombies and dark elves if it meant the dragoness talking so bubbly and excitedly about the art and music, but it was getting time for them to head home and Cynder had somewhere to be. No doubt hanging out with her little weed buddy, she just hoped the black dragon wasn't going to come back like that again.

She was getting some pictures if Cynder did, though, and stealing that Air book again.

-<🌀>-

Jet Vac dragged his new paperwork down to the depths of the Castle with him. In the dungeons of any other fortress sat a long series of statues. Skylanders old and new, all gone but none forgotten, lined up one after another. He wasn't sure how Eon fit so many memorials in the basement, chalking it up to portal magic. The bird looked down the halls of the many Elements, waiting to come up on the Dark section. The Giants were closer to the entrance, the first to rise and, in many cases, the first to die. Swarm stood at the head of the Air row, a Giant wasp and master of his stingers, had fallen to the very Arkeyan Elite who now served beside them, bringing many conflicting feelings to those who remained like Crusher and Ninjini. A colossal bundle of wires with a powerful ocular sensor stood at the head of the Tech section.

Magic, Tech, Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Life, Undead...

Light and Dark.

They were put in the same row, there were quite few Skylanders of those two Elements. The Dark, especially, was hard to find Skylanders for, but they weren't needed as bad as a uniform and organised force of the main eight Elements. Light could fight Dark well enough on its own, but there were rarely villains of the Light Element that the Dark Skylanders could stand against. Theirs was a risk-reward problem, simultaneous strength and vulnerability against the Light that all of the other Elements were neutral to. They might've been quite powerful, but nobody was insurmountable.

Umbra-Sol was one of the very few Dark Skylanders who overcame the Element's twisted nature. How any of them did it varied and was often a very, deeply personal secret they were seldom comfortable sharing; Blackout opening up to Spotlight was the only example the professor could recall, and she made it clear to everyone that she'd be taking the secret to her grave. Jet Vac never learned what about Umbra-Sol drove him to stand against the Darkness, only that he cast some sort of vague protection against it that fed his fearless yet respectful outlook on their greatest enemy. A protection that he couldn't extend to his peers without reworking the way they think of magic almost from the ground up, of course, because why would the Skylanders get a break?

Despite his incredibly poorly understood mastery of his strange power, even as far as the giant tree was aware, he went toe-to-toe against almost all of Skyland's Darkest threats. He protected Jet Vac from the cursed flames of Malefor, slung spells at Kaossandra, pulled the rug right out from under the Doomraiders, and turned back armies of Greebles and leveled Troll factories like they were a bunch of dominoes. Sol was the Skylander Spyro was supposed to be, the one that put his very Soul into protecting the innocent, being there for his team, and sharing his wisdom with everyone willing to listen.

You would've known how to get through to him, old friend.

The statue of the tree was the last in the line of deceased Skylanders, as well as the second, right behind the late Knight Light. Umbra-Sol's statue was the only one besides the Giants accurate to his size, everyone else was quite literally larger than life. The lifelike visage of the brown, pitch-black, and bright white tree loomed over and looked down on him. The five, narrow black eyes were as calm as they were reserved and shrouded. Ghastly yet easygoing. His two left arms, laced with bright white roots from shoulder to fingers, were clasping a large curved sword in the top hand and twirling golden dust into a shining orb with the bottom, growing glowing roots and blackened branches around it. His main arm was holding his staff like a walking stick, the sphere of mechanical rings at the top sitting beside his canopy and flaring with pseudo-mechanical power.

"...Hello..." He huffed and took a seat on the floor. "...I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while. I've been drowning in work, the Final Trials are coming up. Spyro is still a problem, but his teammates have a lot of promise, especially Stealth Elf. She still has that glare that scares everyone off, she has a lot of trouble making friends. I like to think you would've adored her, teaching her. You would've gotten along well when she opened up. Maybe, if you were teaching one of our classes, she'd be in a much better place... I don't want to let her down, but I don't think I'm the right kind of person to help her out of her shell." He sighed and looked to the floor.

"Eruptor's in the same boat. His peers are afraid of him... He reminds me of Stump Smash, sometimes, I know he must be hurting but... telling him he can get through it and bottling it up won't make him feel better only goes so far... I know you told me I should visit my Father's grave just for 'closure' but I-I-... If it was that easy, I would've done it already."

I never said it would be easy. He could already hear the old oak's echo. "I know he's avoiding something but if I could reach out to him, I would, I just hope it doesn't come back to bite him in the middle of anything dangerous. I want to send him to Hugo but Hex and Skull already take up so many Initiate sessions, then the Skylanders have the same problem with Gill Grunt and Knight Mare. And that's not even counting how long we've been trying to get that 'Roller Brawl' girl to see him! That Mabu already has so little time in his day, I don't know how much time he'd be able to set aside for the lad." Jet Vac confessed again, looking up at the statue's hollow eyes like they were about to give him one of the tree's echoey, mouthless yet perfectly clear anecdotes about 'the long sleep' or 'unifying roots' mixed with one too many fire metaphors, but nothing came.

Nothing came, it never would again.

"And Spyro..." He paused to pinch the bridge of his beak. "That dragon thinks he's above everyone, I just know it. He puts in a fraction of the time and effort his classmates do, but always comes out on top. I don't know how to teach him he'll only go so far like that! He never listens, brushes off the reading material after one day, only uses the Arena to show off, I doubt he pulls his weight on his team-" He listed off on his claws, running through gripes until he ran out of talons. "-And always acts like he has something more important to do! It isn't fair to the rest of the class and I just don't know what to do about him!"

He huffed and puffed, making his feathers stand on end. He was half-ready to start ripping them out. "...I-I need your help, Sol... I want him to graduate, I want him to make Eon proud, I know he has the potential to be just like you but... I don't know how to make him talk, I can't teach him, only you could..."

You cannot make others talk, but you can extend a branch.

"...I haven't even spoken to Stump Smash and Drill Sergeant... I can't even get through to one of my students... I can't be you..." Jet Vac's knees ached as he adjusted his posture, more upright and staring blurry daggers at the five hollow eyes. "Why did you leave!? What happened between you and Eon!? What's the Long Sleep!? What happened at that forest!? He told everyone not to go there! He told you not to go there! How were you the one who came back alive!? What did you even do!? What was there!? What in Skylands did you need a Dark Creation Crystal for!?" His voice rapidly raised and his yellow eyes burned, not looked fondly upon in the Hall of Heroes, but nobody else was here right now.

"How am I supposed to teach Spyro? What do I do? Give me something..." Jet Vac choked.

The Aspirants' pages lightly scattered with his heavy breath. Not far, just enough to be inconvenient. His hips weren't what they used to be. He held off on grading most of the essays until now. He'd given his classes a break the day before the Final Trials, he intended to work on them then. Stealth Elf, of course, finished far ahead of the whole class, but she was the only exception. Tomorrow was their day of rest, then the biggest day of their lives would decide their future; another year vs their destiny, and she was taking it better than expected. She'd be an excellent Skylander in Spyro's place. He managed a chuckle, seeing Eruptor's paper. Jet Vac didn't need to read the name, just the charred corners.

It lifted his heart out of his gut for a split second, but then he fell on Spyro's essay. It was two pages held together by a staple at a pointlessly perfect 45-degree angle, all of his packets came back like that. He wished the dragon's writing was half as clean as the staple. "That boy knows his essays take twice as long to grade, I just know it." He huffed to the memorial. A lot of his Ts and Hs were connected like a blocky A with a line off the side, the same went with As and Es or Ws and Ns. He did it on purpose, too. There was a time when he was a Neophyte when he saw the dragon trying to figure out how to connect Xs to other letters to be as annoying to read as possible. 'To save ink!' he knew the boy would've said if asked how he turned and X and O into a fish. Infuriating

Until now...

Jet Vac's neck almost snapped with the double-take. The letters were no longer connected intentionally hideously, but were perfect cursive. Every i was dotted just the right distance from the line, which had a tiny curve at the top, as was the cross of every t. The loops of every m and n and w and u were the extact same size, his a and o and b and d all had perfect circles, and even his x and p had extremely straight lines. He couldn't have made this on his own, nobody could write like this without mechanical precision, much less Spyro, but he saw the dragon make this! Spyro didn't even have computer access! This was because it was the end of the year, wasn't it!? One last thing to rub in his face and watch him scramble to figure out before he was off to face the Darkness!? Was this his idea of a parting gift-

Chapter Text

Spyro nearly slammed into a tree on his way back to his island. He didn't, but his horns shattered some branches and the ends of his wings left gashes in their trunks. Chunks of bark got wedged between his scales and the spikes at his wing joints, woodchips slid along the bone, and drenched leaves were caught in the segments of his tail tip. His claws tore into the exposed roots and flayed flowers on his way to the mud. Momentum almost carried him over the edge of the island as his paws slid across the soaked dirt, it smeared over his poncho as he slipped and rolled back upright. One of his legs caught on a rock on the end of the isle, one he often absentmindedly tapped and scratched, it had old gouges for his claw marks. Now it, and a lot of mud and cut grass and split petals, were hurdling down on whatever island or boulder was far beneath the Castle.

He stumbled away from the ledge and barely turned himself to face the main keep and all of the different sections of the Elements, his amber eyes landing on Eon's tower. His vision honed in on the top of the tower and the gigantic, glowing cyan crystal encased by gold and stairs right beneath it; he couldn't focus on anything else no matter how much he tried to pull away. Spyro's chest froze solid and his lungs stung like ice crystals were ripping them apart, icy blood pouring out of the wounds, yet it heated up with the same searing fire he'd used to near-liquify training drones. Now turned against him, the flames tried to break out of his fire sac and crawled up his clogged throat.

Air couldn't get in and fire couldn't get out. What was needed couldn't get through the swelling plasma and dense smoke swirling in his lungs and overflowing into his gut. Heavy rain crashing onto his poncho was immediately shaken off by the uneven trembling of his cold wings. His heart was thundering as if there was any oxygen to pass through his body, he could almost feel it slamming into his fire sac through the fogginess descending over his running mind. Electricity shot up and down his spine, passing through his legs and down to his paws as they sank in the shallow mud, staining his pearl talons and washing off the polish.

Flames burned as hot as the sting in his eyes. The very second he sets himself to finding a way to show Eon he was worth not casting aside, he screws up. Not even then, he ruined his shot before he even left the house! He could already see the Portal Master looking down on him from on high, propped up by his floating podium before he turned his back and faced George, the Book of Skylanders and a pure white quill in his hands. His ribs felt ready to snap and his Paws were being buried deeper by their constant shaking. The only steady part of his body was his neck, every muscle pulled painfully tight until they were ready to crack his vertebrae like a line of peanuts, solidly pointed at the Portal Masters' tower's open peak with magic he couldn't cast and arcane secrets he couldn't make use of flowing through the exhaust-like gaps from the flooring to the ceiling.

Gems and crystals the color of Eon and George's eyes mocked him from the outsides of the walls to the very top of the blue cone roof. The golden trims about the exterior and lining the bookcase inside were carrying arcana like wires did electricity, none of which could ever mean anything to him like it did to the Portal Masters. None of them were ever his to wield, none of them were ever his to understand, none of them were his to use. He was a dragon raised by the master of the greatest heroes ever, with wings, and he could barely wrap his head around the Air Element. He'd probably get more points for spelling and grammar than the contents of that stupid paper.

He'd already been forgotten about by the same man who made up his mind about him first, why did he think he had a chance?

-<🌀>-

George peeked over the stairs to the Air Studies classroom. It had no door or roof, just a staircase leading up to a wide-open classroom. Rain was pouring off the side of an invisible dome, but he was still very careful about how he climbed the stone steps to a round area full of basic wooden desks, chairs, a pair of chalkboards, a teacher's desk, and way too-short stone block rails around the ring. He could see the soft and subtle light blue hue of the bottom of the protective dome sprouting out of the rocks.

'Jet Vac' was sitting at his desk, a bright white bird with bright yellow hands tipped by black talons wearing a blue suit of padding and metal. He was leaning over a sheet of paper covered in smooth scrawlings. His hands were pressed to the sides of his head as his wide yellow eyes and narrow pupils stared at the writing like he was walking over hot coals and juggling pots of boiling oil just to rationalise the ink. The small sheet of blue metal with silver detailing near the nose was pushed off the top of his head by the tips of his claws. It didn't look like he even registered George coming in.

The bend in his neck combined with his vague and quickly gathered, though consistent across everyone he asked for directions, reputation as a spiteful old man with a chip on his shoulder and who couldn't take a joke painted the picture of someone cranky by default who wouldn't humor him for a second. Unfortunately for the elderly eagle, George didn't care, he had a portal to create when he was finished sorting through this. Besides, his town put up with the same handful of teachers every single year, every grade level had powered through one or two of these types. One year with Mrs. Ebner was a rite of passage.

George cleared his throat. Jet Vac suddenly looked up from the paper, pain flashed across his face for a moment as he realised how horribly he'd been sitting and blinked rapidly while shaking it off.

He paused, sizing up the Tennessee boy and his casual gray hoodie while nursing the back of his neck. "Are you looking to join the Academy?" He asked, determining by his clothes that he was far from an Initiate.

"Far from it, I just need some help. I'm looking for a purple dragon." George answered plainly, shrugging with his hands in his pockets.

The bird's face twitched protectively. "If you think I'm just going to hand off information about one of my students, you won't like what I have to say."

George pulled one of his hands out of his pocket and made a fist. Focusing and tightening his grip, his fingernails dug deep into his palm, though unable to pierce the uppermost layer of his skin like it was made of brick. He'd yet to get the hang of it, he was closer to throwing a sandy punch than creating a portal, but he could put together an orange haze and a sandstorm isolated to his hand. Fine powder appeared from nothing, swirling around his fingers like a dust devil mixed with levitating pebbles. Maria would go crazy for this.

Jet Vac eyed the bright orange magic flowing throughout his palm, glancing between it and his bright blue eyes. "Are you related to Eon, by chance?" He tilted his head, clasping his hands beneath his beak.

"No, just some 'Portal Master' trying to get home." He offhandedly mentioned, trying not to savor the way the roadblock of a bird's eyebrows shot up.

He got out of his chair and held on arm behind his back with the other over his chest, almost like the constant, professional stance Eon took. "That doesn't magically give you the right to know about our future Skylanders... if you aren't going to join or lead them." The bird added, attempting to appear like he was looking down at the Human despite being around the same size.

"Look, he was at Eon's tower earlier today and he didn't look too great when he left. I don't know what we said that set him off, but something's wrong, I just want to know what." George leered.

"So you were at Eon's tower, but you aren't a Skylander or Student?" Jet Vac walked around his desk and leaned against the corner.

"Just work with me, here. He wasn't at his Earth Class, that 'Fist Bump' guy said he no-showed and you were his second-to-last professor, I'm just going down the line." He explained.

Jet Vac again looked him up and down suspiciously. "...Fine." He huffed. "I held Spyro late to finish an assignment he should've done yesterday. He and his team were quieter than normal and some of his scales were discolored. I asked him about it, then he flew off into the sky. You just missed him..." The eagle squinted at a small clock mounted on a raised wall in the back of the class. "...About ten minutes ago."

"So he rushed off and you have no idea where he went?" George pulled both hands back out of his pockets and gestured to the entirety of the classroom.

"He was free to go after he finished his work. What he does in his free time is none of our concern." Jet Vac stated and went back to his chair.

He was about to sit back down and return to contemplating the deep and thought-provoking mysteries of a piece of paper when George pressed. "So you knew he didn't look good, but you didn't think to tell anyone because it wasn't your problem? Did the other guy even know you held him back?"

"I would've, if he hadn't run off." The lousy teacher protested.

"But you didn't think to mention any of this?" George huffed and turned back to the staircase. An entire day of trying to get home and track down this dragon, just to end off on a run-in with this guy. He needed to punch something.

"Being a Skylander means being able to operate independently. Spyro must be fully capable of taking care of himself." The birdbrain insisted.

"Nobody's completely independent." George's Dad once told him. "No wonder everyone thinks you're a pain in the rear end." He pinched the bridge of his nose while hopping down the stairs.

"WHAT!?" He called out to the Portal Master, but George didn't stop to humor him. "I am NOT that bad! I can be fun!"

-<🌀>-

Fire started slipping out of Spyro's throat and smoke spewed between his lips like a balloon ready to burst. His chest was inflated like his scales were about to crack open and hide to stretch until it tore. The smoke was abyssal black, toxic and suffocating like a forest fire was raging inside of him, but he couldn't smother the fireball or release the inferno. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't spit orange and yellow plasma, he couldn't handle the crackling storm, he couldn't exhale. Every attempted breath devolved into choking and wheezing, a dragon who couldn't handle his own element, a dragon who couldn't breathe, a dragon who couldn't get himself together. A dragon who had no shot at being a Skylander.

No wonder Eon was done with him.

He continued to scream at himself to get it together, control himself and his power, for however long. He wasn't sure how long he sat on the edge of that island without any control of his breathing. His heart and lungs were alight and moving faster than any Supercharger, as did the churning of his stomach, but he knew from experience that he had to wait it out. No matter how much time it took and how badly he needed a breath, it would fade eventually. He fought the urge to clutch a claw to his chest, not wanting to look like he'd been rolling around in the mud or track it into the house with him. It felt like hours before he started getting some of the black smoke and embers out of his system. He wasn't sure if he'd actually slowed down, but the clouds of ash and flashes of fire finally started spewing out of his jaws and lungs and dispersing in the air, watered down and cooled by the rain.

Spyro's muscles were all starting to sag and he managed the closest thing he could to a deep, greedy breath, around when the brunt of the storm hit the Castle. Trees in the Life section swayed and shook like every bone in his body, a lot of the mechanisms on the Tech section stopped like his heart, and the waves and turbulence of the Water and Air sections were wildly out of control. Everyone in the worst three sections started heading back indoors, the others were a lot more stable. The Earth and Undead spots were starting to look a lot like his muddy little island while the Magic and fire segments were far more effective at weathering the storm than he was. One was already ever-shifting and full of ethereal power the water and winds couldn't interact with very well and the other had turned the impacts of more brutal weather into steam before.

It felt like there was a dull knife twisting in his chest, but he could hold the air in his lungs and the smoke and fire had almost finished dispersing from his jaws. His legs were still shaking but his paws could get a somewhat steady grip. He wasn't sinking anymore, but it sure felt like he was. Spyro uneasily lifted his forelegs and turned his claws to face him, standing on his hind legs and awkwardly coiling his tail like a snake primed to strike.

They didn't feel real, they didn't feel there, they didn't feel. He was numb, his whole body was numb as he stared at his paws like they were on the other side of a blurry window or he was watching a movie. They weren't his. Not his scales, not his talons, not his paws, not him He wasn't here, looking but not seeing what the back of his mind distantly remembered was right in front of him, this wasn't him. His own arms and legs and wings and tail were his, but actors and puppets on the big screen, he was barely in a seat at the back of the audience of his own life. Nobody else was watching.

The mud and blades of grass sticking to him started melting away like in a shower, dripping off like slough or a light cut as a set of cold, metallic claws gently pushed up his chin. It took a minute for Spyro to register the tip of a platinum talon swiping back and forth right in front of his left eye, wiping off his makeup; he couldn't even feel it like his scales were just part of a dumb, discarded doll. A bunch of black, platinum, and pinkish-red shapes were just to his left as the talons shifted, most lining his bottom jaw to his throat as the purple-stained one started wiping underneath his right eye. Though the image stayed unclear as if his vision was distorted, he could sort of make out the circular symbol on her forehead dimly glowing pink-purple and a pair of sad cyan eyes staring into his, though they turned narrow and mischievous when he blinked a few times.

"I didn't think you'd be here today." Spyro croaked.

"Nothing beats going where you're not supposed to be." Cynder shrugged with the already very familiar smirk of a catty dragoness up to no good.

She quickly turned around and flopped into his outstretched arms like a trust-fall, wrapping one arm over his forelegs and wings' shoulders. Her forearm pinned down the back of his frill and rested on the first of his dark purple back scales. Spyro tensed as she landed but did his best to relax. There was no way in the Nightmare Realms she fell for it, yet she said nothing. The glowing circle flashed slight brighter before her arm met his back, rippling energy washing over his poncho, peeling off the devastated flora and dirt clinging to him. Faint ripples like the dome around Jet Vac's classroom flowed over her scales as the rainwater pooling in the crook of her wings and running between the smooth plates on her chest splashed and dripped off. It was an odd effect, seeing her scales perfectly dry with droplets rolling right off of them.

"Just feel the dirt on your paws for a second." She told him while leaning against his neck. "Listen to the rain, smell it, taste it, close your eyes if you have to."

They stayed like that for a little while. He didn't close his eyes, but he rested them for pretty long blinks and let some of the rain fall on his tongue, not realising how the suffocating fire and smoke boiled away his saliva until she said something about it.

Cynder started trailing a claw along the dark purple ridges on his back while idly dragging her other claws along the bright orange plates on his chest. "Why do you paint them?"

"They're supposed to be orange." He choked again. "I don't know what happened... It was just a bad day and... they started turning into that one at a time. The last one turned after... five months?"

She hummed for a second. "You know how people's hair turns white when they're stressed?"

Spyro shrugged, slightly jostling her, he wanted to hit himself for it. Can't think and act at the same time? Idiot. "Any other dragon just gets paler."

"Yeah." She shrugged as well, nudging his shoulder. "After all, what would that make me?" The black dragoness lightly chuckled and lifted her arms.

Her wrists rotated to dig her talons into the mud facing Spyro. She nuzzled her snout along the side of his face before she gently kicked off and looked up, threading her six horns through the gap between her forelegs as her hind legs gradually swung before his face. The one closest to his nose was first and crossed over the other so they didn't hit him, everything felt slow motion. Her tail slithered through the rain and wind, softly glowing purple as water ran along the knife-like tip and spikes. It made the metal spikes and cuff look like they were glistening as they followed a perfect curve away from his face and curled behind Cynder. Her small backflip put her right beside him, looking him in the eye.

"I'd break something if I tried that." He managed a small giggle. It worsened the ache in his chest and hurt his burning red throat. The thin smoke coming out of his nostrils mixed with bright white steam.

"20 gold says your neck." She quickly shot back.

A humiliating teehee escaped him, he could feel her grin burning through his skull but he didn't have the energy to be embarrassed. "I'm not taking you up on that."

She reeled like she'd been punched. "I'll never recover." Cynder giggled.

They paused for a moment while he silently insulted and debated with himself, looking out at Skylanders' Castle as Cynder lifted one wing over her head and draped the other over Spyro's horns. "...Eon replaced me." He eventually mustered. The tiny gust of wind from her head and wide eyes swiftly snapping to him brushed against his cheek and pushed the hood of his poncho against his face as if she were that terrified for someone she just met.

Spyro tried and failed to take a deep, fireless breath as he peeled off the hood. "...He found an apprentice, someone a lot like him... Not at all like me... I'm just... there... I'm the first attempt." His voice burned like his neck was stuffed full of shattered glass.

Although he was looking at the ground, he could barely spot her opening and closing her mouth out of the corner of his eye, as well as the gulp moving down her thin neck as she turned to the keep, watching the Portal Master's Tower through the rain dribbling off her vibrant wing membrane. A pool had gathered at Spyro's feet where his paws were buried deep in the mud. Slightly brown water reflected the heavy, dark purple bags under his dull orange and bloodshot eyes. What was he going to do? He'd known this dragoness, the only other Elemental Paragon in his entire life, for less than a week and he was already driving her away with his whining.

"Have you ever been storm surfing before?" Cynder gathered herself, swallowing down the lump in her throat while forcing her eyes to narrow and needle-thin pupils to widen, and asked.

'Gathered herself' enough to talk to him again, at least. He forced himself to look into her repulsed and uncomfortable eyes, just to find them soft and gentle like he was as fragile as a vase. The smile beneath them was just as easy and patient, baring no razor-sharp fangs or a forked tongue refusing to take anything seriously. She sat all prim and proper, simple and awaiting, even intentionally cutely. It didn't look like the dragoness with whom he shared a smoke and (accidentally) the date of the Final Trials. Not that he was complaining, he wasn't in the state to do much at all.

-<🌀>-

It was two days after the fateful night in the washing room when Stealth Elf learned why Spyro missed the next day of class. Right at the end of the day, instead of going through the Training Isles, he managed to bring her through the portal platform at the head of the Academy directly to a large storm. While she'd been frozen in place, ears pinned to the sides of her head with a thundering heart and giant eyes being shot by flashes of lightning as terrible as the hurricane her tree worked desperately to shield her, and that small family of foxes, from so many years ago. To this day, she still wasn't sure how long ago it was, only that it wasn't long enough.

They were both much smaller back then, but it didn't stop him from inviting her to climb on his back. Without anything else to cling to for dear life or the clarity to just sprint back to the portal, she all but threw herself at him. Much to the Forest Elf's dismay, he proceeded to take flight and found a spot in the middle of the clouds to even out and get her to adjust her grip. Also to this day, she wasn't sure if she was furious or grateful for the slow nose-dive he took into the swirling vortex.

He spun through dark clouds so streaks followed them out the other side like the shadows she hid in, twirled in unison with tornadoes so all of her hair flung to one side, skated along bolts of lightning until his talons hummed with ionized heat and cool light, sped down with such speed that they could see the individual raindrops falling beside them, and suddenly braked mid-air so they squeezed together before delving into a particularly thick, dark, and disturbingly familiar cloud.

Sy routinely looked over his shoulder to check on her, seeing her eyes shut painfully tight and slowing down until she opened them to see the lighter clouds on the edge of the storm harmlessly passing them by. He made sure she could see the impossibly tall funnels of tornadoes without obstruction, showed her how easily he kept up with the winds meant to be incredibly destructive in a special view she could never dream of finding before then. The novelty hadn't left with him, had it? He would follow the smell of burning ozone and the sensation of static to chase. The bolts that cracked trees just like hers, reducing them to smoldering splinters with the potential to ignite her whole forest with her inside it.

The strikes that would've either left her a boiling flame of molten flesh or a cocoon of ash with dissolved lungs, Sy brought her right against to watch him ride them like they meant no more harm than the metal bars of a skate park. A small spark hitting him in the side, though froze her whole body solid the first few times, was treated no differently than a hilarious wipeout that didn't even send him hurdling out of the infinite sky. He would dash down with insane speeds that made tears well in her eyes, speeds to show her how the water pooled in his wing membranes and poured out the ends like inverted waterfalls. All to show her up close how tiny the water droplets that tried to drown her in mud if not for her tree partially uprooting itself and covering the fox den's entrance in briars, even letting her reach out a shaking hand to catch one on her finger.

She'd pulled back her hand so fast, like the tiny drop rolling up her finger and forearm with Spyro's great speed, that she slapped him across the horn. He laughed it off quickly. And when it got too much, when he was preparing to dash into a nearly black cloud full of lightning, like a window into that night coming back to haunt her, he would catch as much air with his wings as he could. He didn't let it show, but the strain forced his wings up and squished her sides. Even back then, he was frustratingly good at what he did. Instead, with her eyes painfully shut, her arms and legs gripping his collar and waist like vices, just trying not to look like a child or wet herself, shaking like a leave swept up by the freezing tide that left a thin frost on the end of his wings, he would coast along the top of the horrible cloud on the way to a calmer one.

But of course, now he had something better to do. Now he'd wandered off while she holed up in her room, wrapped up tightly in blankets and clutching a pillow. Her curtains were drawn and a blanket was stuffed down at the bottom of her door to muffle the sound, in and out. Bright light flashed across her window, sending shivers up her spine before it was shaken by the heavy crash of thunder. Her teeth were clenched as tight as her grip on the pillow, her only lifeline. Eruptor was off training, she couldn't even leave the house anymore, not until this storm passed. Not until the nightmare was over.

Every storm passes eventually. Every storm passes eventually. Every storm passes eventually-

-<🌀>-

The dome around Barbella's classroom, though it was more like a small gym, glowed orange and yellow as the water rolled off of it, a sight he memorized as he lay over a bench with a stone weight in either hand. He brought them both high above his head, clicking the rocks together before letting them fall to his sides. Despite the chill, beads of sweat leaked down his face. His eyebrows furrowed and grew damp like an angry cat out of a bath and his hair slicked back, stuck to the uncomfortable rock bench with only a workout towel draped over it.

"Bein' able to stand on your own is part of being a Skylander, kiddo." Terrafin commented from another bench, sitting upright with some much larger weights in his clutches.

Barbella joined in, doing more reps with that same cubic weapon. "A lot of people don't like Jet Vac's style, but he's damn good at making Skylanders. Working through stuff with your team is par for the course."

George didn't look at them. "He can be serious without being a pain in the ass." They both chuckled. Never in his life would he have guessed he'd be venting to a dirt shark and crystalline woman while lifting weights made of rocks.

"I'm not disagreeing with you on that one." Barbella started; he didn't have to wait long for the other foot to come down. "But he's a professor, not anyone's friend. He's tolerable enough if you're not a problem. I dunno much about how Spyro floats his boat, but that old bird has something new to say every few days. I know it doesn't look good on him, but odds are they just don't mix. You don't have to like it, but there's always gonna be people who don't fit together no matter how hard you try to push them together."

For the first time, she almost dropped her weight. "Ugh, I'm turning into my old man." She gagged.

Terrafin was next to nearly drop his weights. "Feel ya there." He smiled. "Anyway, they're almost off of each other's backs, Spyro's probably just more worried about the Final Trials than he's letting on. And if he's not, odds are it's not our place. Don't get me wrong, I think it's nice you're worried about him, but he's Eon's kid, there's just a lot on his plate."

"What we mean is we've been Skylanders longer than he's been allowed in the arena and Training Islands, that's one tough dragon. If anyone can work through it with just a bit of time, it's him... Not that he wouldn't appreciate the concern." Barb added.

"So it's okay to let him push his luck?" George countered. He'd lost track of how many lifts he'd done a long time ago, a lot of the walk here and the wait for the trainees that were using Barbella's gym before him passed in a frustrated blur.

"Fair." Terrafin shrugged. "But we're not the people to do it." He sighed. "Ya wanna know how long it takes to become a Skylander? It usually takes quite a few attempts per level. Aspirants who fail the Final Trials are allowed to retake them every three months, but you're gonna be hard-pressed to find someone who can do them on their first three tries. Failure's a part of life, George, it's no different for Skylanders. He and his team might be doing well so far, but if failing at the end is what it takes to make a change and figure themselves out, that's what's gonna happen.

It's not as big a deal as it sounds; it's happened to the best of us. More often than not, it's what makes the best of us. It'll sting, for sure, but they'll come back stronger the next time you see 'em." He looked ready to purge, too. "Now you made me sound like my Dad." The shark poked at Barbella, sharing another short laugh.

"Sounding like mine, too." George mumbled.

Terrafin sighed and let down his weights with a thud. "...I don't know how to help bein' homesick, but believe me, I've been there... Not across dimensions, but I know just how hopeless being on your own can feel and dwelling on it won't make you feel better. Don't ask how I got over it, though, I have no idea." He shrugged in resignation.

"Take walks every once in a while." Barbella cut in. "Not working out, not studying anything, just a nice walk through the Castle to remind you what you're fighting for-" She paused. "-but you're not a Skylander... uh, imagine you're taking a hike with your friends and family, remember why you're doing everything you can to make it reality."

"How'd you get over losing everything?" George asked after another pause and some reps.

Barbella shifted to lift her weights with one arm off to the side. "You mean my gym? When the Gulper crushed the whole thing, I figured 'well, nothing's worse for people's health than a giant blue blob monster and his competition blowin' through their homes.' I guess I didn't change my goal, I just put my drive toward something else. Being in the Earth Element means being sturdy and stubborn, the hardest part is figuring out when it's time to change course. In my case, it was standin' up against the worst Skylands has to offer. I'm still fighting for the same thing, it's just not in the way I thought I would.

Lemme be clear, I'm not askin' ya to turn your back on your folks, quite the opposite, but getting your life back on track isn't gonna be as direct as you'd hope. You're gonna have to deal with people you don't want to, you'll also have to know when a chance isn't worth the cost. We'll help you where we can, but we can't do that if you start letting yourself mope around; if you start going the way of the folks who lost everything to Kaossandra, you've already lost. You're not gonna do that to your parents, are you?" She asked, knowing the answer.

George didn't bother answering, lifting his weights above him one last time before turning to sit upright and settle them beside him. "Terrafin talked about Malefor."

The shark looked to the side and clenched his clawed fists. Barbella swallowed. "I didn't want to push... I've never heard of Kaossandra, though." George finished and suddenly realised letting off some steam when he only had the one pair of clothes wasn't his brightest moment.

"It's alright, kid." Terrafin insisted. "I figured Eon would've given you the scoop."

George shook his head. "Nothing."

Barbella and Terrafin looked at each other for uncomfortably long before she twirled her staff to her other hand and let one end crush the dirt, summoning some balls of orange crystals from the soil. "'Guess he didn't want to scare you." She sighed. "But on account of that being a stupid choice, I've elected to overrule it." The bodybuilder straightened herself and mocked a high, posh voice.

The dirt shark cracked his knuckles and huffed as well. "Malefor's a dragon ruling the Cadaverous Crypts, the Dark Master, and a real piece of work with his mind set on destroying the Skylanders and the Core of Light so Darkness can reign supreme."

"And how exactly does that help him?" He clarified.

Barbella answered. "By letting the Darkness grow out of control, the balance of Skylands will be massively shifted in his favor, and that of everyone aligned with the Dark. Nobody of the Light would be able to compete until the Core was somehow rebuilt from the ground up in a Skylands where all the most vital components would be snatched up by all the most powerful servants of the Dark. From there, the only ones fighting would be the guys like him trying to seize control, no matter who they had to step on to get a slice of the crown. The war would be catastrophic beyond anything the weakened Skylanders and handful of Dark Skylanders could dream of handling, and not just for the soldiers."

"And 'Kaossandra?'" George asked.

"A Dark Portal Master, opposite to Eon. We fought her a lot, a Dark Skylander named Umbra-Sol almost both of 'em in multiple times in one-on-one spell duels. They tore apart entire islands to decide the fate of the rest of Skylands... Real spectacle if we weren't a stray blast away from turning to dust." Terrafin chuckled. "Anyway, their MO's the same; destroying the Core of Light makes getting the rest of Skylands under their thumb much easier, particularly for the 'legend' who did the deed. Everything hitched on the Core. But one day she backed down to raise her son, Kaos... bit of a problem when Eon was the last Portal Master before you came along."

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna help. Especially if that guy's big plan is to just not bring them up! What's his idea for when he's gone? Has he tried to fortify the Core? Does he have someone to replace him?" He stopped. "No. NonoNO."

"You didn't hear it from us." Barbella shot him a finger gun.

"Ya got that right." George growled.

"I know it's not what you wanna hear-" Barbella reached out.

"Oh, really?" He snarked.

"And I bet you wanna head to bed and forget all of this." She continued.

George nodded. "Yep."

"But we should really get you some clean clothes before you head out." Terrafin beat the gym teacher to the punch.

He blinked. "...That's it? You're not gonna try and convince me?"

"Eon... The guy just needs someone to look after us if something happens to him, and he literally has no other options. Could ya just cut him some slack if he gets annoying about it?" Terrafin explained.

"I'm not sure that makes me feel better." George frowned.

Barbella chuckled. "Nothing like a shower to sort it out. Come on, kid." She smiled and started for the exit.

Chapter Text

Eugenie's connection to the rest of Skylands was... spotty. There was an old, slow, and blocky computer on a desk in her small room, but that was it. One barred window opposite to her door, far from a good view, and one bed pressed against the wall, too close to the small table. It wasn't much, but it was hers, and she was just down the hall from Cynder's room! There wasn't much to do but wait for the computer's dragging connection to research how to skate, other than look through the mountains of books Cynder had retrieved from the Stormveil Library.

They were piled high by the window, tomes about portals and teleportation written ages ago by people she had only just started grasping the genius of. Stepping through one of her own portals might lead to an explosion, but it turned out she could warp shorter distances without one. Of course, gathering and releasing the energy to slingshot herself through the fabric of reality wasn't without its own risks. Though that great amount of energy existed in and around her, putting it to use could still be very destructive if she didn't get some practice folding reality, first.

That being said, being launched out of control and partially incinerated by a failed surge of energy sending her over the horizon would be a hell of a way to go, so long as nobody knew she was the one who did it. Seeing as she was one of the only Portal Masters, apparently, then it wouldn't be hard for someone to put together what happened. Even in Skylands, she knew there'd be some idiot standing over her charred and pancaked remains saying 'skill issue,' which was more than enough to stop her from getting hasty. It would probably be T-bone, he struck her as the type.

Speaking of the skeleton, there was a knock at the door. She invited him in without looking up from her most recent book, one of the more basic portal tomes. As far as she could tell, the middle point was as important as the start and end coordinates, the spot where the fold was made. Technically there were only three vital parts of opening a portal: the beginning, the end, and the stab to the center of the intersection that completed the portal for the duration of the Portal Master's magic and will. Although she thought the small note about the center spot being important should've been a much bigger point. Small portals where both locations were within view weren't a problem, but knowing where the in-between spot was for larger distances should've been way better-highlighted information. Maybe not for the person or object shooting through there, but definitely for the caster's calculations.

"Gonna let me in and not respond, eh?" T-bone remarked.

Eugenie shot up. Some of her hair flung up with her and fell over her face. "Sorry." Her face flushed.

His helmet visor was down, but she could feel the way his eyes rolled behind the metal. In his gambeson-gloved hand was a small tray with an apple, a glass of water, and some buttered toast. She concentrated on the palm of his hand, focusing on the position. Then, like she was connecting dots, she dragged it to the mid-point between his hand and a clear spot on her desk. She tightened her magic, piercing both ends at the right angle to make a flat opening. The space around and especially between them hummed with power as the metal tray rended and rippled like water hit with a rock. White and cyan light swirled like the bridge in space was the eye of a hurricane, spotted with mist like stormclouds and tiny flashes of lightning. The food landed on the corner of her desk, but the apple kept falling through reality, landing in her hand.

"Gettin' better at that, huh?" T-bone commented as she took a bite.

Jenny swallowed and set her book aside before talking. Now was not the time to drown in a book (again). "Practice makes perfect!" She smiled.

Her brick computer suddenly blipped with some results for skating. She perked and looked through them, keeping her knees bent, holding her center of gravity over her toes, stay low, weight into the ground, and pointing her toes out slightly.

"Not what I'd think a Portal Master would be lookin' into." He scratched his skull through his helm.

"It's not Portal Master stuff!" She excitedly shot out of her seat and found a tight but workable spot between the bed, desk, and tower of books to hover. Swirling clouds, clockwise on her right foot and counter-clockwise on the left, flowed and pushed her up. She waved her arms a little bit, trying not to lean on anything, but she managed to stay upright and steady once she found her center.

"Not bad." He shrugged as she looked up with a grin. "Just don't forget to check out your portal stuff, ain't nobody gonna be able to stand to you with that. And try not to run into anyone in the halls again." T-bone chuckled, his ribs and vertebrae clicking like maracas, and headed out the door.

"Sorry!" She called after him while gently gliding back to her chair.

-<🌀>-

George had been provided a pair of brown leather boots with some buckle-looking things on the sides, he couldn't tell what they were for other than folding down the tips of the boots so his knees could be seen. He'd never been a designer, he didn't know what the point was. Underneath, his new, stretchy black pants had some black kneepads over the top of the boots, each with three gold bolts arranged like a pyramid. George couldn't tell what the material was, other than breathable; it kind of reminded him of the compression socks he wore when he broke a leg in baseball and the stuff his sports clothes were made of. He had a nice white shirt-tunic thing going on that draped over the top of the pants. The boy already knew his Mom would be all over him if he appeared to her like this, after the initial explanations, she always insisted he looked fantastic in bright white no matter how nightmarish a single stain could be.

It was all finished by a blue headband keeping his slightly damp hair out of his face, which was a nice quality fabric. He would've appreciated it more if it hadn't been part of an obvious ploy by the wizard to convince him to join, but he didn't want to take it out on the Skylanders. The ones who weren't directly ordered by Eon to play extra nice, not that he could tell who they were, were simply doing their best for a child ripped impossibly far from home. That, he could appreciate in silence for however long it took him to be able to say it.

Some cold water splattered around them as Barbella flicked open an umbrella. Terrafin waved goodbye and started digging through the soil on his way back to the desert-like portion of the island. The bodybuilder guided him to his apartment, an odd thing to be able to say while in high school. She made some small talk on the way, chatting him up about his studies and family. He could tell from her voice that she thought Maria was a doll and she and their Dad would get along. Getting home was at the top of his to-do list, he wasn't going to pretend it wasn't for anyone, but he did want his parents to meet her and the dirt shark.

When they weren't talking up a storm, they were looking at it. The rain wasn't so bad that it was pouring sideways, but he was grateful his new boots were a lot more waterproof than Barbella's. Not like the storm that drove him back into that damned crackhouse, not crackling with lightning right behind him, but pretty powerful and getting a lot of the Initiates to rush back indoors. They passed a pair of girls, both pale gray and one with slightly blueish skin, running away from the water. The taller, blueish one had blank white eyes and a black dress; she was being followed by a floating skull in an orb and did her best to keep a translucent cyan shield above her head. The other had bright pink irises with no easily visible pupils, something of a black metal band shirt he wouldn't know, and jeans over some prosthetic legs that looked just like the ones amputee track runners wore. Wonder what her story is. He couldn't help humming.

Flashes of lightning, though remaining far from the giant island, tore through the sky at speeds and with forces he'd never slowed to appreciate before; always something in his room to pick up or some homework to do. Steam and sparks would fly off of whatever they struck, returning water to the sky to fall down like bullets again. Some of the flying Skylanders and trainees remained outside, soaring through the rain. Two of the closer ones were a fiery knight holding bombs like a suit of armor animated only by flames with a pair of orange and blue bird legs surrounded by a small tornado. Another was an orange and blue bird with weapons like double-bladed axe heads in his talons and heavily armored black and brass legs with rocket feet like they'd been switched at the waist. Maybe not the weirdest thing he'd seen, a nerdy mole-person with a crippling sheep-phobia was preety hard to beat, but it was definitely in the running.

Less notable and extremely far in the distance were another pair of figures; he could only make out two dark spots against the dark clouds, disappearing as the backdrop of lightning strikes faded until a new surge seared the infinite sky once more. One remained completely black, in the brief and infrequent moments it reappeared, the other was just barely violet enough to blend in with the purples and blues of the lightning bolts illuminating them. It was easiest to see in the small times when the light of the hit was fading or if it crossed over the white-hot plasma. They looked to be chasing each other, swaying and dancing in the rain without a care, a performance just for him.

This place may not have been home, but that didn't make it bad.

-<🌀>-

The water flowing off Cynder's wings looked like it was glowing pink, while his started to crystallize before it scattered to the wind. It was easier to cut through than he'd expected, going relatively sideways to the direction he was flying and slightly forward. The winds carried him along through the clouds in Cynder's wake. He focused hard on keeping his wings perfectly level despite the shifting currents, subtly changing his center of gravity in minuscule ways with the rotation of his body and tail.

She started the tour off easily, letting him abandon his poncho and finding some of the darker gray, but not black, clouds to glide over while she checked on him. At the same time, side by side, they dove into the maelstrom. Rain pelted their scales anew, making it easy to keep track of her as he lightly shut his eyes and let the ice water wash away some of his makeup. In this case, there was just no avoiding it. Puddles formed over his shut eyelids and overflowed along the spikes of his frill. What didn't get shot off the back of his head trailed along his dark purple ridges and pooled again at the base segment of his tail spike. Other waterfalls, or water-rises, went along his chest plates and down his legs to stream off his pearly talons.

He barely angled one of his wings to twirl, flinging off the puddled over his restless eyes and reorienting upside-down to Cynder. He flared his wings, catching pools in the gaps of membrane between his bones, and downward-spiraled toward the flashing pink streaks chasing her through the thick clouds like a flying spell. When his muscles started to cramp, he inhaled a fireball to keep him warm. For a short second, he had his own spot of light following him! His own little bundle of warmth.

Strikes of lightning separated them, the tingle of static tickling their scales and the seared ozone filling their nostrils as they drifted together. The sparks started forming around them, not igniting but lightly glowing between their horns and spikes of their wings. Again, they dove together, turning their relaxed claws to tense and bared like they were being unsheathed right before the lightning bolt soared through the air. Both Elemental Paragons got a branch of the same arc to ride down, following the ionized paths away from the branches striking islands as the beams flowed right under their feet. Their paws and talons hummed with electricity, it caught between the points and zoomed along their bellies, bursting outward so they were weightless.

Water vapors steamed around them, fuming around their wings and following them as they descended. Bolts sprouted from the tip of his tail, danced along the bones and spikes of his wings, and connected the tips of his horns. The cold settled as the energy dispersed; from him, at least. The lightning swelled around her like the powerful devices only highly trained Tech Skylanders teaching their Protophytes were allowed to interact with. All six of her horns glowed with electricity that jumped between all parts of the platinum. The platinum cuffs and choker buzzed with power, a burning line crackled up and down the spikes of her spine and skull, her claws were clutching balls of lightning, her wings and horns made triangles with the pure power coursing through her, and it flared off of her like a projection of a thunder bird.

He did a split S to get around her like a buzzing fly; sharply turning in her direction before making a big loop at the last second. She blinked away the water sliding over her face, her light blue eyes wide, though they returned to her smug and indifferent face quite fast. The blood vessels in her eyes and irises glowed bright cyan, the energy sparked off the backs of her wings with the water washing down her body, snapping to the spikes and cuff and dagger of her tail like she was a kite as her horns vibrated and connected to her wings.

Then it was her turn. From behind him, Cynder started with a thatch weave; swirling back and forth. The movements sent hypnotic curves of light into the surrounding clouds before she rapidly climbed to half of a loop ahead and to the side of Spyro, half-rolled upright to zoom behind him, and dove down. She rolled again, continuing to drift to the sides, and carried the momentum to shoot ahead of him. He didn't let her get ahead that easily. Shaking off the mesmerization, he pumped his wings and gradually moved down. Both kept rising and falling to build momentum, making scissor-like maneuvers as they tried to get ahead. He didn't need to see her snarky little face to know the lean and lanky dragoness was holding back.

A smirk widened across her lips, baring some jagged, very sharp teeth before she quickly and violently thrust her wings so the tips clapped underneath her crossed forelegs. Her head was lowered into the cavity and eyes closed. When her wings flared back out and she threw her paws down past her plated chest, a thunderous pulse and flashes of lightning and sparks exploded out of her slender body. The shockwave, though more of a constant and controlled release of energy instead of an intentional attack, threw him off his balance. Spyro recovered with a roll and by catching some turbulence while Cynder, lightningless but gently glowing pink-purple again, casually glided underneath him and flipped upside-down, both looking 'down' at each other.

"How do you hold the lightning!?" He shouted over the thunder and winds.

"A magician never reveals her secrets!" She answered, bapping him right on the face with her paw and pushing off.

Heading downward, she twirled up a small column of air that he rode down, frictionless. He could make out the individual drops of water falling slightly faster than him, then slightly slower. He and Cynder created holes in the darkest clouds, riding more lightning bolts before she did more literally and figuratively flashy tricks with the electrical releases. She held her wings the proper way, outstretched and angled slightly upward, it was more stable that way. Her flight evened out as they approached a small water spout, slowing down beside him.

"Why do you fly like that!?" She pointed at his wings.

He swallowed and looked away, muscles tensing. Cynder didn't push, but didn't pull away, she gradually glided right beside him so he wouldn't have to shout to be heard.

"...I didn't want to look like the wind's pushing my wings around..." He quietly admitted.

"Like you're being weak?" She continued, swirling around to look up at him from under his wings again. Her sad eyes bore into him like Elfie's when she was burying herself into a pillow fort.

"...Yes..." He admitted again as if he was trying not to be heard, yet needing to say it.

"Who says it's weak? If anything, it looks off." Cynder's face turned stern and nearly feral as they drifted toward the forming tornado. "Get out of your own head! You're the only one who thinks like that, it's completely normal!"

Spyro swallowed hard again, looking between Cynder and the distance. The Skylanders' Castle was way out of sight, but far from out of mind. He knew she was right, he didn't need anyone to tell him that, but hearing it from someone who'd seen and heard him with his guard down was... It got under his scales, but not in the way that made them crawl and shiver like he was stuffed with spiders. He reluctantly allowed his wings to rise. The frost along the ends of his membranes as the air pushed them together, falling away, no longer weighing his wings down. Nobody else put as much pointless effort into perfectly straight-winged flight, now he wasn't, either, and fighting against the subtle shifts in wind speed and direction came more naturally.

When he found the unreasonably high amount of courage to look Cynder in the eyes again, he found her eyes and mouth back to normal. Her grin widened as she suddenly gripped his paws with hers and adjusted her wings. She giggled as loud as the whirls as they entered a swirl, flinging some ice and water and steam off of her wings as they made an X shape and spiralled toward the tornado. She said something, but it was drowned in the whirling wind, all he could hear was the storm but he knew she was held up on the wing angle conversation.

They flew apart as she let go and dashed along the tornado. The dragons flapped their wings up to speed around the funnel, breathing deep and letting their eyes flutter closed as they moved with the funnel. Water vapor bubbled out of their throats as the plasma in their chests boiled it all away. It felt like being under the shower head, but light as a feather. Floating like a dream. She was shooting way ahead of him, though, too fast for her to just be a little speedier.

Fog of the high-speed wind blurred his vision as he peered through the streaks for the black dragoness before the dark background. She straightened her body and tightened her hold on her wings, bringing them closer to her torso but not fully wrapping them around her body. Spyro brought his wings closer to his sides. It took some adjusting and troubleshooting before he could roughly match her position, but he got up to speed by the time she swirled back around beneath him. She smiled up at him as his wing membranes arched and inflated between the bones like a bunch of parachutes.

An arrow of air formed around them as he started flying faster and faster, riding the tornado's motions while angling downward. Gravity and momentum and his arrow-like shape shot him and Cynder so fast that the water drops barely had time to hit their scales before they swished down their bodies and left lines of white water in their wakes. His wings turned with the motions to make an L-shape with one facing the whirling circumference of the tornado while the other was like a raft facing down and stopping the air from sending him into an out-of-control spin. Cynder still moved ahead of him, being lighter and visibly more accustomed to flight than he was, having lived on the same island and only having to move through the same handful of nearby locations about the center of the island.

Soon, they approached the bottom of the tornado and curled their wings around their bodies, spinning like torpedoes as they shot out of the funnel with absurd velocity. Spyro didn't even need to unfold his wings to stay aloft, he only barely unraveled them like parachutes to keep the great speed and angle himself, along with Cynder, back to his island. Cynder and Spyro's wings stretched and angled up to create a bunch of drag before they landed. Their wings shook and took a decent amount of effort to keep steady as they hit the wind breaks, flapping a few times as they approached the ledge where his discarded poncho was being buried in the mud and rain.

Cynder chuckled as she plopped down on one of the colorful flowerbeds. "Better?" She huffed and smiled.

"Much." Spyro relented, finding a patch of grass.

She lowered her stance and slithered across the flowers, rearing up to lightly headbutt his side and neck. "You should let your makeup wash off more often."

The purple dragon shuddered and reached for his face, now fighting not to glance down at a puddle. "...Thank you... For not pushing..."

"Gold for your thoughts?" She offered and curled her wings over their heads.

He debated himself for a few seconds, all of which were spent with her patient cyan eyes on him, not judgy or waiting for some usable flaw to show. "...I've put everything into becoming a Skylander... I've put everything into becoming his Skylander. And then some random kid comes around and it's like I never even mattered..." He chuckled disingenuously, though it came out like more of a choke or cough. "Maybe I didn't! Maybe I was just convenient! And now that Eon has someone else to focus on, he doesn't need me."

"I get that." Cynder sighed. "Where I'm from, getting replaced is pretty... devastating..." She fumbled for the right word, letting her effortless coolness crack.

Her wings drooped, her head lowered, her eyes looked heavy, her tail twitched, and her paws fidgeted with the mud. She let her guard down.

"That bad?" He tried to engage, but he didn't know how. He was just having a bad time with himself, he didn't know how to reach out to someone else. This wasn't social politics!

"...Yeah." She eventually mumbled. "'Goodbye your entire life' bad." Cynder didn't force a chuckle.

Not knowing what else to do, he matched the motion of her wings to be the new umbrella. She relaxed and rubbed the back of her neck when he took the burden. Her breaths were foggy and the tips of her horns poked his membrane. One of them pressed coldly into the crevice of his bone and the orange sheet, he tried not to shiver.

"If anything happens... I-I'll check-... I'll figure something out." He stammered.

"And if you need someone to fall back on?" Her head reared like a cobra's, the rest of her body looked to flow and follow the motions like the rush of a river, casually serpentine yet so utterly other that the shivers crawling over his spine finally released despite his best efforts.

"I'll be okay! I've put my whole life into becoming a Skylander." Spyro insisted.

Cynder didn't buy it, it was written all over her face. "Hypothetically, then." She shrugged.

Spyro mulled it over for a minute or two, staring at the castle. "...Guess we'll find out..."

"...Nah, I think you've got this." Cynder trilled and lightly headbutted him again, slowly getting back to her usual self.

Spyro wasn't sure how long they stayed like that until Cynder stretched out from under his wings and started heading toward the forest behind their clearing. "Thanks for being here, Cyn... I needed that..."

She paused while flaring her bright wings. "Right back at 'cha, Skylander." And she disappeared in a flash of lightning and thunder like the flap of her wings.

-<🌀>-

The arena was empty at last. Every inch of the floor was soaked like the sand at the very edge of the beach. His hind legs dug into it as he fiddled with the access terminal, turning everything up to its absolute highest setting. He didn't have anything specific he wanted to train for, more like he needed to get everything down while he had the chance. There weren't many situations where strength wouldn't be demanded. His dexterity could be better refined with some self-imposed hindrances. Resilience was always on his mind; every hit taken counted and overcome. Raw speed was another aspect he needed to get a little creative to properly refine, but far from an impossibility without the Training Isles involved; he wasn't about to take a whole other detour on the cusp of the middle of the night for a type of practice he could get right here.

Fire ignited and swelled and swirled about the arena as he exhaled on the oncoming drones. He only half-paid attention to what drones appeared, having set most of the composition to random, but he was certain to impose limitations so some decent team-comp would take place. Spyro didn't pay attention to what the tanks, warriors, supports, mages, and rangers were; whatever their Element or weapon or armor. He was just here to stand and fight until the very end.

Their wiring was melting in their chassis before he rammed and scratched, whichever was better for the specific situation. Rams may have been great for first charges, but they put him right in the fray of a conflict he likely hadn't gotten a good look at before. He instead led with flames and followed his momentum with bites and talons, flaying the first target in a way that let him see the back-lines before he made a decision; usually it came between a fireball or a tactical retreat.

Both tanks were armed with shields, though the one he melted first didn't have the chance to use it. While its armor didn't melt, he knew well from the earliest Fire Studies classes and experience that just because he didn't reduce them to bubbling puddles didn't mean they were more useful than one. For every cut a steel sheet saved its wearer from, it baked them alive like an oven. Not as morbid in the moment but just as effective as a molten mix of rubber and plastic poured out of the red-hot plating.

Two more were at his sides with four sword-wielding fighters in the midline and two mages around a supporter at the back. One of the mages made a shield before the support as it buffed the four fighters. Spyro shot a fireball at the other mage as he whirled around to maul one of the tanks. His claws bounced off the thickest parts of his armor but his fangs sank deep into its shoulder. There was a small gap between a collar around the neck mechanism and one of the shoulder plates that his jaws managed to fit into, piercing the framework and slicing open wires. Some hydraulic pipes got caught on his hooked teeth as he pulled away, throwing himself off of the drone as his talons failed to do as much damage as he demanded.

It took a knee, entering a programmed-in stun state. Normally, the amount of damage needed to bring them down at such a high difficulty was absurd, but his ability to do so wasn't enough! Eruptor was their tank, Stealth Elf was their assassin and covered their weaknesses, he had to be the strongest or he was useless and settling just for that wasn't what made a Skylander. He needed to peel open their suits of armor and tear out their internal systems; nothing short of a clean victory would do.

And so, he allowed one of the fighters to slash him.

He could feel by the strike that it was Tech, he didn't need the faint spectral gears and orange coloring to tell him it was going to hurt That was the point, he deserved that if he couldn't keep pace, and he deserved the water ball flying after him if he wasn't tough enough to recuperate and dodge the mages' attacks, this was how he got better. The compressed orb washed right past his wing and grazed along his tail, far from able to throw him off-balance if it hit him directly, but still too capable of moving him, especially in the loose and wet sand. He would work on his steadiness the next time he made a mistake.

Spyro didn't lunge at the already-damaged tank, but he dashed and slashed at the other; another self-imposed rule to force him to be better, to make him deal with each threat for as long as possible. He didn't allow himself to attack the same target twice. One strike, one kill, or he'd have to attack everything else before he came around to whatever he failed to bring down. He jumped into the air with a flap of his wings and landed on the functional tank's back, driving the spikes of his wings and claws of his hind legs into its neck and grabbing its head by the chin.

A bolt of electricity from one of the mages, Air, hit him square in the chest. He forced himself to stay standing and tear the drone's head off. The construct fell to the ground in a cloud of smoke and sparks while Spyro charged the fighter at the far end of the battle line. Since there was nothing behind it, he was free to crash directly into its chest and send its body flying behind him, no other contacts waiting on the other side. With a spin, he sent a fireball into the Air mage as the remaining tank tried to shield-bash him.

His talons slipped on the wet sand but he was able to dodge under the massive attack, willingly taking another strike from a Fire fighter on the other side for the literal slip-up. He slashed it at the waist, bisecting the thin spinal rod before he did the same to an Undead fighter, two clean swipes he was almost proud of. They needed to be faster and more precise, no less than Elfie's hits, he made himself pay by swerving away from the Tech fighter and getting into an unfavorable position between the martial drones and mages.

The dragon shredded the Water mage, lowering the basic barrier around the support. The shields weren't actually that bad, just taking a few hits to shatter without needing to go through the mages, but they may come a time when a bubble would be too strong for him to break directly. He jumped over a swipe at his legs, pouncing on the other mage and biting its head off. Then Spyro got his payback on the Tech fighter, avoiding a shield bash from the tank that hit the supporter's side, sending it to the ground at the same time Spyro grabbed the fighter by the wrist.

Wrestling its hand off, he used one of his wings to speed up a spin and drive the drone's own dull weapon into its gut. Sparks illuminated the dark arena, but didn't quite put the machine down, meaning he had to hit the supporter and damaged tank first. Spyro flew over another, horizontal shield hit from the tank and somersaulted through the air to build up speed in his tail, caving in the supporter's metal skull before he used the recoil of the impact to keep himself airborne. His wings made a whirlpool out of the rain as he ascended and blew a jet of flames down into the tank's neck wound until it finally fell. But it didn't go down soon enough.

He wasn't strong enough to rip out the tank's throat on the first try, it took too long for him to pull of the other one's head, he wasn't steady enough to power through the mages' attacks without giving them a fraction of a milimeter, his swipes weren't perfect enough to cut cleanly through the fighters, he didn't instantly rip off the final fighter's hand, his flames took too long to melt the drones' insides.

Spyro wasn't good enough.

Spyro wasn't perfect enough.

So he waited patiently for the Tech fighter to pull its own dull sword out of its body and welcomed the next punishment. His head burned and frill stood on end as he headbutted the electric rod. The drone stumbled backwards with its sword all but thrown behind it, its arm completely bent behind it with the weapon lining its back. Stars flashed in his eyes for just a second as the glow of the Tech Element shone on the heavier model of protection the animated armor was built into, but he shook it off easily and made a lightning-fast vertical strike to its body. The drone folded like wet paper in the storm.

While the next wave of automatons was prepared, he got a look at the killing blow. He was almost tolerant of his performance, but got a good look at the angle of his slash when the lightning struck overhead. It was almost completely vertical, just a few degrees off. Maybe around 92 to 94 off in the direction of the claw he finished it with. If he could see the flaw in the armor alone, then the damage to the internals was even more incorrect, gears split and arcane tubing severed at 95 or 8 at the very least.

Meaning when the next wave was ready, Spyro embraced another stab to his chest.

He would be perfect

No matter the cost.

Chapter Text

A knock at the door roused Cynder from her slumber. For as little storm surfing she and Spyro did last night, the festivities with Eugenie the morning before left her a bit beat. Her back popped and her neck stung as she slithered out from under the black covers. T-bone was waiting for her on the other side, his visor up. There was only one thing that got him to casually look her in the eye without the rest of his squad: he had bad news.

"What happened?" She asked while rubbing sleep from her eye.

T-bone stopped and inhaled before he answered, and he didn't even have lungs. "...Your Father wants results by tonight."

Her blood froze solid. Electricity crackled across crystalline ice growing and stabbing every artery and vein, all bursting her heart open and solidifying like gems inside her chest. Her stomach flipped inside-out, the tip of her tail and her talons stabbed the carpet as every muscle in her body tensed at once, even the claws of her wings clicked together with a metallic 'clank' while her slit pupils narrowed to the size of needles. Cynder swallowed hard, tightly clenching her fangs together as she fought to steady her breathing.

"...Understood..." She acknowledged like a common soldier.

"Your, uh... your little friend's been making a lot of progress." He tried to end on a high note.

"In portal magic or aeromancry?" She interrogated.

The knight shrugged. "Both."

"Making clouds won't make her useful." Cynder lowly growled.

"We can only get her to study so much, we're lucky she's already a bookworm." He shrugged again.

"Luck won't get us anywhere, we need something she wants." Cynder added and dismissed him.

...Did they need to pay-off Eugenie?

She was a good kid to her core and she needed to stay as far away from and ignorant of Malefor's schemes as possible, that much was certain, but maybe she didn't need to know why she was tying reality together...

-<🌀>-

2 hours of sleep.

A week spent studying textbooks cover-to-cover, a week spent navigating the Training Isles, a week getting her face plowed across the sand at the arena, and all Stealth Elf had to show for it was 2 hours. Because of course the night before the arena closed for good was a storm. There was no way anyone was going to keep it together on wet sand, not in a way they could improve. Hard to get better when the drones were closing in on you the second your footing was slightly off. How did anyone have the focus and awareness to track their mistakes during all of that!?

Or it was just another problem between her and hurricanes.

Her senses were dulled and patience thinner than ever, she had to bite her tongue just not to get snappy with Eruptor as the clanging of his pans woke her up all the way from the kitchen. And she wasn't even out of her room yet! She peeled her hopefully just tear-soaked (but probably not) sheets off her bed, yanked off the pillowcases, and dragged them to the washing machine. Finally getting a home with a built-in washer when they were Neophytes was a blessing she'd never take for granted. Master Cami Flage and Master Ambush would absolutely give her 'the look' for it. Not like she could ever pull herself away from the forests, even if she wanted to. Maybe a walk around the Life section would do her some good.

Until then, she struggled to wriggle out of her sweat-soaked nightgown and into something tolerable. Just a skirt and her binder, her real tunic had been restricting her airflow and she'd take the open air and tall grass before so much as a single string of fabric any day (unless it was silk). She'd need the breathability and freedom of movement now more than ever, anyway. With the arena closed and Aspirants given the day before the Final Trials off, all she had to do today was rest and prepare. Unlike someone she knew.

The only pair of shoes she owned, other than the ones part of her complete outfit, were a pair of sandals full of little belts that fastened around her ankle. She got a clean shave and used up the warm water while the shower was free and checked herself in the mirror. Her eyebags were a little worse than usual and her hair remained a little disheveled no matter how much she wrestled with it. The strands framing her face weren't even and the fringe had a lot of small gaps and tangles in it, despite all the fighting she'd done with her brush and the abundant blue threads stuck in the bristles. Her braid was off to one side, too. The tuft at the end was frazzled and tickled the sides of her feet as it swayed and the small black hair tie around the back of her knees was already coming loose.

Stealth Elf gripped the edge of the sink and all but growled into the mirror as she tried to apply her makeup, covering the freckles about her nose and cheeks while trying to cover her eyebags. Her ears pinned themselves closer to her head and pushed back her messy hair with every stroke of the brush, but she didn't have the patience to handle the work they undid. The little plastic makeup kit cracked as she slammed it into the counter in frustration. Still, she did everything she could to cool the anger burning bright in her chest. Lashing out was Eruptor's forte and Spyro couldn't take anything seriously if their lives depended on it, they were relying on her.

The forest elf might've been a letdown to Master Ambush, but Master Cami Flage taught her to be better than her temper. She cracked her knuckles, popped her back, and stretched a little bit. After releasing all the tension she'd be able to, she threw the door open and teleported before a plate of somewhat burnt eggs and a toasty slice of ham. Even she jumped when Spyro appeared from nowhere, that stupidly big smile still on his face. He was already full of energy and his amber eyes were as bright as ever, saying something about 'heading to the Training Isles early' and 'to let him know if they needed anything' before heading out the door as fast as he arrived.

Both of them groaned at the dragon's sudden arrival and disappearance. Off to get all the attention without any of the effort. She dug her nails into her palms, almost forgetting her daggers. Stealth Elf blinked up to her room, a basic and empty place with only the remains of her blanket cocoon from the horrible night before in the corner and a desk for homework. That was where her daggers had been abandoned; a pair of old dragon fangs looted from a skeletal corpse.

...She didn't actually know if they were dragon fangs, but it was a rumor spread by the upper classes to leave the Students shivering by the time she was a Cadet or Neophyte. Remembering her home, they were more likely the fangs of a Rune Bear or Dire Wolf, possibly a really big cat. She wasn't sure, she wasn't a biologist. There were some small serrations on the edges, but they were closer to the long tips, giving her a small spot to grip at the cracked bases.

A spark of fondness grew in her heart as she gently tossed one of them up and down, remembering how heavy they used to feel. There were some very old and fine scratches along her rough palms and fingers from when she first claimed and started training with them, part of a 'ninjas must know how to use their surroundings' lesson. What surrounded her was a skeleton, that skeleton had some pointy things within reach of her tiny hands, and they'd burrowed into her skin until all the softness was gone and only refined skill remained. They'd followed her to this very day.

The good memories faded fast, replaced by the slowly overwhelming frustration and exhaustion, but they were a very welcome break. Just today, the Final Trials, and their graduation were left. Then they'd get some time off before their responsibilities as true Skylanders were called upon. What she'd be sent after first, she didn't know. They were expected to stick together as a team, but she hardly found the boys to be more than friends.

Maybe she'd be put on the Mabu Defense Force and Troll Army front, digging in against artillery barrages and infantry charges before crossing muddy minefields to cut down officers and disable tanks. It was incredibly infamous for being an especially brutal front on even the most persistent Skylanders. A true war of attrition that they weren't allowed to spend more than a few months on at a time, for their own sakes. Though it was a task often put on the newer graduates to serve as an example and test of what they'd learned, not of their skills developed just for a grand test. She knew a week guarding Cloudcracker Prison beside the Trap Team was a more official requirement first recommended by Snap Shot and mandated by Master Eon, and it was where the Doom Raiders were held, but those two examples were the extent of her foresight.

She relatively contentedly twirled the 'dragon' teeth with the speed to make the sound of rushing wind, letting them spin and fall from her index fingers to her pinkies and back again, then wedged them into the elastic belt along her skirt. The Lava Elemental greeted her with a forced smile at the doorway. Not his usual face, more like his personal signal that he wasn't mad at her. Together, they headed for the Training Isles and Superchargers, unaware of the tired but gleeful purple and amber dragon sneaking through his own room's window and door to hide some color-coordinated gift boxes in one of the kitchen cabinets.

-<🌀>-

'Psi Replenishment' was a very interesting concept. As far as Eugenie could tell, there wasn't a lot psionics couldn't do. Immortal Durability, Pisonic Resilience, and Surge Of Health were all abilities preserving the body beyond its physical limitations, while Mystical Recovery was a spell that restored it. Soul, Consumptive, and Phantom Knives allowed the projection of weapons formed by thought, Astral Constructs functioned similarly to create constructs of the mind to fight on the caster's behalf. Really, the only limitation beyond the very overcomplicated basics she hadn't found a tome for would be which 'Disciplines' a student studied to a degree they were able to access the diverse set of abilities at their disposal.

The Telepathy and Telekinesis tricks she'd initially guessed were par for the course for mental magics appeared to require just as much study and understanding of the mind's place in the universe as creating weapons and armor or changing the body as the will dictated. Granted, her only frame of reference was the handful of popular media her old friends dragged her into and the niche fiction novels that happened to feature their own take.

'Seeing the keys to reality within her mind's eye' was more than a little beyond the Portal Master for the moment, but maybe the dragoness could be bribed into helping her speedrun the process. From their moods and emotions being projected into the real world like crystal mirrors into their Souls unleashing unruly and devastating powers if not carefully controlled, or embraced to their most destructive extents, to connecting to neuro-networks far beyond the heights of the average mind, this was a power with a skill floor almost as insane as its skill ceiling. A form of arcana that Cynder had quite a few tomes on.

Her stolen book hovered out of her hands in a pink-purple glow and landed in the black dragoness's platinum talons. The symbol on her forehead glowed the same spectral color, gently rippling with energy like a live wire. She stood on the tips of her wings and flicked through the last few pages Eugenie read. Cynder's movements, though just as eerie and unnervingly smooth, were sluggish and forced like the small smile over her cold, reptilian face.

"What's wrong?" Eugenie quickly sat up from her narrow bed.

Cynder shrugged. "This isn't the type of book you should be focusing on." The dragon painfully obviously forced a chuckle. "Psionics are... This is way out of your league and portal magic's gonna catch more attention, anyway. Plus, I know you love Aeromancy!"

The faux joy in her voice made the Human shiver. "What's going on?" She asked again.

The dragon frowned and allowed the book to levitate behind her. "Nothing you can help with." She sighed. "Just stay away from my library, okay? You can keep the Air book, but some of that stuff is out of the way for a reason. Maybe we can come back to the psionics thing another day."

"...Alright." Eugenie dropped it for now, grabbing the nearest book from the pile by her lackluster window. It was a textbook on folds and tears in space, some more foundations of travel with little she hadn't gone through before or seen rephrased in other books. Some of the formulas for energy output and finding the right items to reach peak efficiency were even copied over with the exact same citations.

"How's your magic been coming?" Cynder hopped up beside her and coiled along the foot of her bed.

Another shiver ran up Eugenie's spine. Something was wrong, but Cynder wouldn't say what and she couldn't piece it together. "Great! I'm working on skating." She calmly exclaimed while skimming pages for anything new or different perspectives on existing information. Cynder never specified what magic she was asking about!

"Have you tried dashing yet?" She asked.

"Not really." Eugenie admitted and cocked her head at the dragon.

"You should." She cracked her knuckles and scratched her neck with one of her hind legs. "That and jumping are some of those things that just get easier the more Aeromancy you get into, practice makes perfect."

"I've started moving things with portals." Jenny added.

Cynder perked slightly, some happiness showing through, but it was greatly limited by her clearly recent awakening and cold-blooded nature. "Like what?"

"Just small ones, for now. I teleported an apple." She downplayed breaking real-life's physics engine.

"I don't think bigger ones are that hard to create, just a bit more draining. If I remember correctly, a four-by-eight oval is one of the more efficient forms. That, or the closest thing to a perfect circle, whichever you can get closer to; circle is better in general but the oval is easier to 'draw,' so to speak." She idly waved her claw while sleepily rambling and blinking slowly.

Eugenie smiled at the tired attempts to help out. "Circles are easy when you get the formulas right. So far, I think I'm good once I get the circumference and radius or diameter, the trick's applying it without blowing anything up." She giggled.

A weight settled on the girl's leg as Cynder's head lay her snout over the Portal Master's lap. Her serpentine cyan eyes were lightly fluttering shut and she wasn't really hearing what the girl had to say.

"Sorry." Cynder muttered and pulled away. "...That friend of mine... He's going through a rough patch right now and... It just brought up some bad memories." She admitted.

"Like what?" The Portal Master pressed against her better judgment.

Cynder paused, visibly thinking. "Remember the Count that skeleton dude from town beat up? He's still the main one in control of a lot around the Crypts, so he calls a lot of the shots. When someone needs gold or some specific materials, they usually have to go through him... He's always looking for a way to get what he wants without returning, he doesn't expect a lot of people to come back from his little 'missions' alive. You can imagine the kinds of jobs a dragon gets." She sighed and stretched, slithering off the bed.

"Why do you work with him, then?" Eugenie hopped up and gently placed the book aside.

"Because anything's better than putting up with my Dad." She grinned. "But seriously, he owns enough that it's really hard to get out of reach, and the 'opportunities' around him tend to be just as bad. Some black wizards here, my Dad there, some wannabe lords, you get the gist. Not the best place to be, if I'm honest, you're lucky T-bone and I like you." She winked and headed for the door.

"Is that why you want a Portal Master so badly? To get away?" Jenny prodded.

The dragoness froze in the doorway, refusing to look back. "...This place is home. I might not like it, but we're stuck here together. Maybe you can make it easier, maybe you can blip that fucker right into the void. But maybe you can't, that doesn't change my decision to help you out." She continued out and down the halls.

-<🌀>-

Cynder inhaled and blew out the torches along the hallway. While she was no Air Elemental, she'd found an affection for the element when she started distancing herself from her Father. The Element of Freedom indeed. Fire, on the other hand, she was happy to blow out whenever the maintenance and cleaning crews weren't looking. The way the torches snapped and gas lights hissed were too familiar, and not in a good way. Welcome, the warmth may have been, she didn't like getting close enough to feel it.

Spyro probably didn't have the same reservation. It was the same orange as his dull eyes. The image, while burned into her mind by the past week, was cold and tired like gems and pearls. Both of them could use a nice heater and some blankets right about now. When such a break would come, she didn't know, and was starting to doubt the time would ever arrive. The light but old scars covering his scales looked like paint and the bags under his eyes, though far from pretty, were their own type of nice.

Nice knowing even Skylanders had their limits, or just weren't having good days. Heroes standing on high they might've been, normal people were still buried deep in their hearts. She could feel how sluggish his mind was, even with all the electrical interference in the middle of the storm. Many of his motions felt built and acted upon off of highly trained instinct, rather than conscious effort. It reminded her more of sleepwalking than a person going about their day. Morbidly impressive.

Not that she wanted that. He was a blast to be around, even when he was at his lowest! And she'd had more than her fair share of all-nighters and training mishaps, ordered by Malefor or otherwise. She could feel how smart he was, he was determined, and he was as tough as he was curious. And he was close to giving in. Cracks were starting to show. They'd been showing for a while before she even revealed herself, that much was obvious, but he couldn't keep going for too much longer. Unless nothing else happened today, she could meet her Father's deadline. The question she was worried about was would she.

Finding him was easy, his mind's fog was as distinct as his scales and the clashing orange of his horns. Getting in position was even easier, they could walk right up to or sneak up on each other, whichever she found funnier. Making him vulnerable had happened on its own the last two times they met, there might've been an opening when he brought out the bong if he'd been a bit more broken. If forgetting to paint his spine could leave him like that, then she was just playing a waiting game. He might even pass out before she got there! Otherwise, putting him out of it would be chlidsplay: just crank up the charm, the Charm, and a bit of her superior strength of mind and all this stress would wash right off the next time she had to be dragged to the Dark Master's terrible keep.

All pointed at the one guy Cynder really didn't want to do this to.

She didn't want to watch his eyes gloss over like they really were a pair of dead pearls, she didn't want to watch his vibrant scales turn cold and pale, she didn't want to see his claws clench and twitch like dying spiders, she didn't want his scales to be stained crimson.

But if she didn't, she would take his place. Then what did Eugenie have? Then what did Spyro have? What would happen when she stopped spending time with them? What would happen when they started asking where she went? What would happen when they asked just one question too many? How long would they have to find out and turn back before her Father set his sights on them? All it would take was one skirmish, and they'd both be reduced to ash under a cold cloud of concentrated necrosis. Would they even have time to hit the ground before they were gone? Probably not, she decided. After all, what use was a Portal Master who learned where her study buddy went? What use was another dragon who figured out what he did to his one break from being a Skylander? Why keep a Skylander alive?

Both of them had as much ahead of them as they did reasons to stand against Malefor, much more than Cynder did. She didn't want to sacrifice that just to live long enough to reach another roadblock, one just as likely to put her in the dirt for good, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind that they'd both meet their end if she didn't make a choice. He's no different from the rest. If not him, then all three of us are goners, she told herself, he'll just a problem later, anyway. Eugenie would understand if she ever learned of Malefor's rapidly tightening timeframes. After hating Cynder's guts. They were too good for their own good, she painfully chuckled.

Rather ineffectively, Cynder steeled herself and swallowed down her doubts, reaching her bedroom door faster than she was expecting. The only of their kinds the other had ever met, possibly the only one the other would ever meet. They could've been friends in another life, or even siblings in arms against some great mark to triumph over and be paraded all across the Skylands for their victory, but not this one. Spyro made his choice when he became a Skylander. He'd been given every opportunity to just throw in the towel and head home. Frankly, he'd persisted way past the time he should've given up, or neither of them would be in this position. Nothing could turn him away, and nothing less would save her scales.

The Elemental Paragon's fate was sealed long before they met.

-<🌀>-

The purple dragon was already at the Training Isles when George arrived. He was far from done burying himself in portal books for the day, but he physically couldn't turn another page after the week of fruitless research. He couldn't even change which end of the table a bug was crawling on. So as much as it pained him to waste time, a break was due. George had zero intention of trying his hand at the Training Isles, but he wanted to see what the Skylanders' regiment was like compared to his Dad's US Marines horror stories.

Pretty awful, it turned out! Dull, his Dad didn't have axe-like pendulums and balls of spikes and giant cutlasses swinging and spinning at him. The deceptively calm and steady Training Islands were much smaller than the colossal landmasses making up each Elemental section and the main Castle, but all were covered in mechanical panels that initially appeared flat, but sprouted spires that unfolded an arsenal of weaponry. The purple dragon easily weaved through the deadly obstacles like they were no more concerning than a bunch of pool noodles and ping-pong balls. All the way through, he kept a smug smile on his face and finished the obstacle course with a twirl and rose into the air.

Spyro flared his wings, creating just the right amount of drag to stop his spinning and face the Students and Cadets watching his effortless accomplishment and wink, frozen in the sky by his momentum and flipping backwards right before he began to fall to dive beneath the islands and check his time. Supposedly, the dragon was happy with his time, facing the screen at the head of the course with a smile, but the Portal (far from a) Master could see how it didn't meet his eyes. He looked frustrated, maybe even furious. It looked to him like the dragon took the task as seriously as a game of 'the floor is lava' and finished with flying colors, how much faster did the dragon expect to go?

It only took a split second for him to micro-manage his features into something a little more natural, then playfully bow and gesture the small brass podium with a timer and start button for the person behind him to take on the challenge; a white-eyed green elf girl George had seen on and off throughout the week since... What were they called? From Tuesday/Terraday to Thursday/Thermoday. She was missing her tight crop-top looking thing, gold-buckled boots, and brown leggings. Instead, she was quite minimally put-together with a binder, sandals, and a skirt with some massive teeth stuffed into the belt. She didn't even have her little brown face cover resting around her neck. Someone was up way too early.

There was a thin, dark line under her eyes and she had a ton of dark green freckles on the tops and sides of her shoulders, slightly down her upper arms (around a quarter or third of the way down in the general shape of a fading arrow, he guessed). There were a few more, lighter ones on her chest and more down her back and outsides of her thighs, certainly a lot of detail for someone whose face was decidedly plain in comparison.

With insane flips and kicks and dashes and slides, she made similarly short work of the obstacle course, even more so than the purple dragon. She even parried and launched herself over many of the blades with the giant fangs. Sometimes blipping in and out of existence in a dim flash of a pale green spark and a puff of emerald smoke. He didn't need the timer at the beginning to know her time was better than Spyro's, and neither did the dragon. He raised a scaled paw to give her a high-five but she walked directly past him with a murderous glare.

Many of the future Skylanders, save for another vaguely familiar golem made of lava and a pair of bright yellow eyes, noticeably shivered and backed away from the livid elf as she stomped through the crowd with a deathly white sneer. They formed a path for her to escape, one so wide she could completely change directions and the uneasy onlookers on the sidelines would still have plenty of time to rush out of her way. Spyro slid his outstretched paw along his shiny orange frill and looked back at the elf, then to the Lava Elemental with a raised brow. The big red golem huffed and turned to follow the ninja without a word, leaving the purple dragon to shrug at the Cadets before following them.

That's his team? George blinked and started after the trio, quickly and embarrassingly getting lost in the tangle of pillars and walls of bookshelves and trophies as he tried to take a shortcut through a semi-outside, gazebo-like portion of the Academy Castle. All but an open area, and he was already turned around. How does every bookshelf have slanted shelves, but all look exactly the same? His only landmarks were a glass case full of pictures of graduated Skylanders and a random crystal in a jar left leaning against some huge mathematics textbooks like a stopper.

"Hey, guys! What's going on?" A voice carried through the dense shelving. How does anyone fit through all these!?

"Nothing." Another snapped.

"Just go back to showing off, Spyro." The Elemental's voice was a lot more gravelly than George was expecting from a liquidy being, but it led him through the maze and to the top of a stone staircase overlooking the Apirants.

"If something's bothering you, you can just tell me." Spyro stood on his legs and wings while gesturing to himself with a mix of concern and irritation on his face.

"Then we're telling you we need some space." The elf leaned in and growled.

Spyro stepped back but bit his tongue and spread his wings. His eyes went from wide to narrow as fast as he got lost in the sky, a purple dot dashing between floating landmasses. More of the surrounding Initiates gave the pair plenty of distance.

Distance George didn't offer. "What the hell was that?"

Both of them snapped their heads up to George, the elf much faster than the golem. Her ears were stuck to the sides of her head with some strands of blue hair draping over the insides. The big red one had no neck or head, he had to rotate his whole body to look at the Portal Master.

He glanced between the back of his companion's head and George a few times. "Who are you?"

George ignored it. "All he did was check on you."

"You don't have to live with him." The elf sneered and vanished.

The Elemental glanced at the now empty spot, then turned his back on George as well. His heavy footsteps left spots of soot and heated cobblestone in his wake, though there were none around the Academy or right behind him to suggest it was a normal occurrence.

"Totally thought they were about to jump you." Someone chuckled from behind him.

The pale, vampiric girl from the storm was behind him, though wearing what he assumed to be her uniform or fighting suit like a gothic superhero. Her prosthetic legs had been switched out for massive steel saws with pink mounts connecting to black, sort of snake-like skulls attached to her knees. She had some pink leggings beneath a dark layered chest plate and a black undersuit down her arms, which were tipped with skull designs that sprouted a pair of claws like sabre teeth and heavy-duty gloves with pink guards. Her hair was pinned over her right eye by a skull helmet, she was staring at him with one bright pink eye and a toothy grin. The way her fangs poked and slid over her bottom lip couldn't be comfortable, she was either used to it or too proud to admit it.

"I gave it a fifty-fifty chance, Stealth Elf usually wants everyone out of her way." The Blueish elf in the black dress joined the vampire's side.

The skull in the orb hovered right up to his face, almost sending him down the stairs. "Well, I thought you were dead meat!"

George lightly tapped away the floating skull. At least it was covered by an orb. "Who were those pieces of work?"

The black dress-wearing elf fumbled a small tower of three big tomes, aided by the vampire swiftly skating around her and pushing each book at different angles, and looked back to the boy. "Stealth Elf and Eruptor. They're Spyro's teammates. When he's not hosting a party, he's with them." She shrugged and continued down the steps.

The vampire spun circles around him with a grin. He tried keeping up with her for all of two seconds before resigning himself to his spinny fate and watching the black and pink blur circle. "You'd fit in better than either of us. I heard he brings smokes." She shrugged and jumped off the edge of the stairs in tune with the elf reaching the bottom. She landed and spread her legs to spin in place and disperse her momentum, then leaned over to thrust off of the bottom stairs and stand upright.

"He's barely even there! That guy's always got somethin' more important to do." The skull added.

"You've been to one?" The elf looked up from her stack of books. George brushed off the whole interaction because at this point, of course a floating skull had a night life.

He followed them down the stairs. "He's not even at the parties he hosts?" He confirmed, only partially wanting to see the look on the wizard's face when he learns he doesn't know as much about the resident 'party boy' than he assumed.

"Not really." The skull stopped and turned. "He drops off snacks and drinks, talks big, and bails. I don't think anyone even knows where he goes." It cackled.

"And nobody's thought to check on him?" George walked beside them for a little while, squeezing through crowds to their classes.

The vampire shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"So he could be trying to study during all that, and nobody would know." He added.

The three of them stifled a laugh... all but the skull did, anyway. "SPYRO studying? Rich!"

"That guy flies through life like nothing matters, parties are the last time he'll care." One of the books almost fell out of the elf's hands as she rounded a corner.

"Master Eon says only people who put their everything into becoming a Skylander have a chance, he has to fit that time in somewhere and his parties aren't that precious to him if he doesn't even show up." George argued as they approached the library.

Both flinched for a second and looked to each other before walking into the library. "Also fair." The vampire shrugged again, brushing it off just as fast. "What's your name?"

"George." He answered plainly and pursued. It wasn't like he had anything better to do while his brain took a break and apparently they were interested enough to talk.

"We're on real name basis already!" She joked. "Roller Brawl."

"Hex." The elf dropped her books on a table and took a seat. With a wave of her hand, two more seats slid out and the books scattered between the girls and skull.

George grabbed a random tome from the wall, just some Earth textbook, and sat beside Roller Brawl. "What about real names?"

"Most Initiates don't use their real names when trying to become a Skylander, to protect their families." Hes explained, then raised a hand. "We might not have names or families to protect, some identify with their chosen names more." She lowered her hand. "A few already have weird names, though. There's a Skylander called Drobot flying around somewhere, he was an ass when he wanted to be."

"And some of us just wanna get away from our lives." Roller joined.

"Or hate her parents" Hex looked up to the vampire (he assumed she did, her eyes were blank), who stuck her tongue out. She had a silver skull piercing in the middle.

"...Sooo don't give away my name?" He shrugged.

"If it would put your folks in danger." Roller Brawl flicked through her book like he wasn't even there.

"And if they're a world away?" George asked, just in case.

Hex and her skull shot up while Roller Brawl almost fell out of her chair.

Wonderful start...

Chapter Text

"So she holds up her little hands like she wants a trophy, and they're covered in pink paint. Mom kinda didn't want to repaint the wall and Dad almost smiled, he had to pull all of his army tricks not to crack."

George shoved down a chuckle, much more effectively than Roller Brawl. Hex was still buried in her book but he could see the small smile on her face. Skull wasn't amused, though, he was just as busy trying to change the page of his fist-thick tome without any hands. They got a look from some of the passing Students, those he imagined to be the new guys who intended to go all the way to Skylander and took themselves way too seriously, but it didn't deter his stories about Maria.

"Sounds like something my younger brother would do. Sure, he was tough, but he was an art kid to the bone. Mom hated it." Roller Brawl remarked with a giggle.

He finished holding back a laugh. "You have siblings?"

"Three older brothers. Oldest was a mechanic, middle wanted to be a pro wrestler, youngest did all my middle school projects for me." She listed.

"What's he doing now?" George let some hope seep into his heart. Maria was the same way, but he didn't know much about artsy jobs besides the bad reputation 'starving artists' got online, which he didn't know the accuracy of but his parents were just as aware when she wasn't around.

The vampire's face fell, just a little bit. She wasn't really a smiley person, from what he could tell, a lot of guys his age were the same way, but her posture obviously shifted.

"...It's a long story." She mumbled. He didn't push.

"Any idea where you're from?" Hex's floating skull asked.

George shook his head. "I don't know where I am or how I got here, all of this is impossible in my world." He tried not to let how frustrated by repeating himself he was starting to get.

"Were you able to trace any magic from the site you arrived at?" Hex looked up from her book. The blank stare on his face spoke volumes. "Terrafin might be able to go out with a scanner if you can't check. It won't show Eon where your home realm is, but you might be able to figure out what caused the rift to open and that might have something like a targeting system or a record." She shrugged. "I'm not a portal expert, but I was learning to use existing ones better before I became this"

"You just gestured to all of you." George hoped against the odds that someone watching would get his reference.

She looked back down at her book. "Also a long story."

Eon's voice echoed throughout the island, growing softer within the library. "George, I would like to ask you something."

The girls looked at him as he rolled his eyes and tried to remember where he grabbed the Earth Studies book from. The skull eventually took enough pity on him to bite the tome and shove it on the right shelf. "It was Hex and Roller Brawl, right?" He double-checked. "See ya around." They waved to each other and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he wandered back to the Portal Master's Keep.

-<🌀>-

Stealth Elf all but punched their door open and tossed her bone daggers on the kitchen counter. Normally, she wouldn't ever be out and about without them, but they were home and she really needed to not have a weapon on her, especially when the next big worry was right behind her. Eruptor ineffectively tried to help her stomp out the smoldering embers in his footsteps. The tiles turned black and carpets would need to be replaced, she wasn't sure if Master Eon would cover it. Just don't snap at Eruptor, he can't help it.

"Were we too much?" She gripped and leaned against the edge of the counter. "'cuzIknowhewasjustcheckingin-"

"He was saving face." The Lava Elemental pointed out.

"But maybe that guy was right, what if we were too harsh?" Elfie asked and tried to take a deep breath. Her head already felt like a vein was close to bursting, she didn't need her heart pounding out of her chest at the same time.

Eruptor sighed and checked the fridge for an old coffee flask. "Listen, Spyro's never taken this Skylander stuff seriously, he brushes off every chance he gets. It's all just a joke to him. Why should we give him more respect than he gives the whole Academy?"

"Just the Academy?" She raised a brow. "I'll never understand how he's related to Master Eon."

"He's not, there's no way Eon raised him because none of that has 'son of a Portal Master' written on any of it. 'Eon's kid' doesn't spend one day in class, a fraction of the study time we put in, and suddenly get all the material."

Stealth Elf took a seat and buried her face in her hands, trying to ease it all off like normal, but all that came out was another frustrated growl. "And then he does the same thing with the arena."

"No, I don't."

The forest elf teleported out of her chair with her fists up while the Lava Elemental slammed the refrigerator door as he spun, just to see the purple dragon standing in the doorway with lowered wings and a sunken frill. A light breeze slowly grew stronger, blowing in some loose blades of brown grass and wilted flower petals. She'd been slacking, apparently, and not on missing Spyro, he could be dead silent when he wanted to be; Elfie had never allowed their yard to dry up or wither until Fall, and the dragon wasn't covered in any debris. The breeze was a surprise, though, the storm passed and it was a nice day until the dragon showed up.

Spyro dashed inside with such speed that the floor shook like they were in the middle of an island collision, but he didn't look like he was going that fast to the elf. "You think I don't try to keep up with waves of dozens of drones!?" His voice started to rise as he stared up at Eruptor, his amber eyes ignited like a wildfire in her forest.

"You don't try anything!" Eruptor huffed and pointed one of his magma blobs at the dragon.

"How long have you been there?" Stealth Elf gasped. Her knuckles were turning bright green.

He ignored her and did that new thing where he stood on the tips of his wings instead of his forelegs, bringing himself up to Eruptor's eye level. "Nobody puts as much effort into this as I do!" Spyro snarled.

"Elfie and I do more in a day than you have since we met you!" The Elemental seethed with accusation. His face began turning charcoal and steam wafted off the spikes at the top of his head.

"You don't know the half of what I've done to get all of us this far! You don't know a thing about the work I do to keep this place running and pass the next semester!" Spyro's voice raised again.

The surface of some of Spyro's chest plates, opposite side to his heart, and his nostrils started to faintly ripple like a desert mirage. His eyes stung yet his whole body shivered, unable to decide if it was burning up as his rapidly boiling blood pumped through him or freezing solid in the middle of a blizzard. All his muscles were ready to seize and spasm like electricity was coursing through his nerves from the tip of his tail to the points of his horns, striking his heart like a dull knife. This is what they, of all people, thought of him? These are the people he'd given his everything to?

"Fine, then we do more in two days than you ever have!" Their tank fumed. Smoke curled and twisted upward to the ceiling, then dispersed about the drywall and a spot of mud where he'd repaired a leak over the living room rug.

"Guys, we-" Stealth Elf tried to make everyone take a step back.

"QUIT IT!" They both shouted. She jumped back like an arrow had been shot her way.

"I've put in just as many all-nighters, I've put in just as many hours at the arena, I've run the Training Isles just as many times." Spyro's eyes glistened and his fiery orange irises flared like blasts of magic were being shot through them. But he refused to cry, he'd forever be the last one in the room to show weakness. His breathing picked up, too; absolutely frigid going in like he was inhaling shattered icicles, and searing hot with puffs of slowly darkening gray smoke going out like the mouth of a volcano.

The top of Eruptor's head looked similar, dim orange light hummed out of his outer layer and became brighter yellow along his spikes. "That's BS and you know it! When was the last time you were even out of breath!?"

"Last night, when I was practicing for the Trials! Where were you?" Spyro snapped back.

"Yeah, right! I don't know how he does it without any of the professors finding out, but there's no way Eon doesn't mess with your grades! He's been carrying you through the whole year!" Another accusation flew.

The dragon scoffed, it sounded like a choke. "So he made us retake our Cadet year twice? And our Protophyte year? You have no idea what it's like to be a Portal Master's little champion." Spyro hissed and ground his fangs. They clicked and slid apart like a bunch of knives.

"We don't have a Portal Master on our side the second something goes wrong, you can get out of anything if you just ask him for a hand!" Stealth Elf shouted back. The conscious part of her mind did its best not to side with Eruptor, saying he didn't get his scores the same way they did, because there was no way Jet Vac or Sensei Barbella would ever let him get away with that; however, the active part of her was running on fumes and murder.

Spyro leered her way. Elfie, too? "Everything he does is for the Academy and Skylanders. What part of you thinks he checks in unless something goes wrong?"

"He gives his all to make sure we can do anything, and you throw it away for parties and showing off to your buddies!" The Lava Elemental roared like an explosive eruption.

"You have someone, Spyro. You have someone in your corner if you need help! You have someone looking after you! You have someone worried about you!" Elfie added. "There's someone backing you up if you don't become a Skylander!"

Spyro looked like he'd been slapped. "Backing me up!?" He almost cackled or wept. "You think he's backing me up just because he picked up a stray out of some random forest!? You have somewhere to go if you flunk out! You aren't expected to suck it up and try again for your tree's sake! Your tree's never pushed you to get an S in everything!"

"EON CAN CARE!" She beat Eruptor to the punch. "EON CAN LOOK AFTER YOU! EON LOVES YOU! EON KEEPS A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD! DO YOU THINK SOME DUMB TREE CAN DO ALL THAT!?"

"DO YOU THINK IT CAN'T!?" He snarled with a twitching eye. "FUN FACT! TREES CAN'T MOVE LIKE YOURS, ELF! ROOTS CAN'T TEACH A BABY TO WALK! BRANCHES CAN'T CATCH YOU WHEN YOU FALL OUT OF THEM! THORNS CAN'T REFUSE TO CUT YOU! A STUMP CAN'T LIFT YOU OUT OF A MUDSLIDE! LEAVES CAN'T MAKE YOUR FIRST PAIR OF SHOES!"

Eruptor looked ready to jump him, but Spyro was faster as he leapt onto the counter and stared daggers into Stealth Elf. Her fangs were trapped under his hind legs' claws. The Pearl spikes of his wings looked duller and sparkled dimmer as they wedged him upright, leaving his forelegs to tremble like they were holding orbs of pure plasma, baring their points like outstretched claws angled toward his face and seconds away from lunging up to rip out his frill or suddenly turn to wrap around her throat. He loomed over the forest elf like a giant oak, appearing twice her size and shining the orange light of his flames on her face as they flicked between his pearl jaws. She could feel the heat washing over her face like the morning shine reflecting through dew and soaked ruins after a hurricane whenever the pressure of blackening fumes and streaks of energy and flying embers crackled through the thin cracks and spread soot over his gums.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT TREE IS ANY MORE THAN YOU DO, BUT I DON'T NEED TO SEE IT TO KNOW IT FOUND A BABY IN THE WOODS AND DID ITS BEST TO RAISE HER! IT FOUND A BABY IN THE WOODS AND DID EVERYTHING IN ITS POWER TO GIVE HER ALL OF SKYLANDS EVEN THOUGH IT COULDN'T EVEN TELL HER HOW MUCH IT CARES! THAT TREE'S DONE EVERYTHING IT COULD FOR YOU. AND MAYBE IT DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU NEVER CAME HOME ONE NORMAL DAY! MAYBE IT'S STILL WAITING FOR ITS DAUGHTER TO COME HOME! HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT!? HAVE YOU EVER VISITED IT!? BECAUSE I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T! I'VE NEVER TAKEN MY EYES OFF OF YOU TWO BECAUSE I KNOW IF EITHER OF YOU NEEDS HELP, I'M THE ONE WHO HAS TO LOOK AFTER YOU!

YOU TWO ARE HERE BECAUSE OF ME! WE GOT TO THE FINISH LINE SO FAST BECAUSE YOU'RE ON MY TEAM! YOU'RE GOING TO BECOME SKYLANDERS BECAUSE OF THE WORK I DID TO DRAG US HERE! AND WHAT DID YOU PUT IN!? WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT THE ONES WHO MADE IT POSSIBLE!? ABOUT SOME DUMB TREE THAT GAVE YOU ITS EVERYTHING AND THE DRAGON WHOSE DONE EVERYTHING HE COULD TO HELP YOU OUT AND BRING YOU TO THE TOP!?" The purple dragon howled with a voice like a funeral pyre and bloodshot eyes like flares.

"BOTH OF YOU!" He suddenly remembered Eruptor existed and dashed back out the door before either Aspirant could scream back.

...What have I done? Stealth Elf sighed as the energy momentarily subsided.

-<🌀>-

"I still don't understand my we couldn't leave a few days later." Glumshanks whined as the Dark Portal Master put together the final puzzle pieces of his ingenious plan.

"Because that cafe on the edge of this disgusting town." Kaos stopped to hiss at the peaceful, bright, and calm Mabu town right behind and below the small island where he set up their stakeout. "Is popular and I wanted to try it on a slow day. And so I would have plenty of time to see the wards on that old fool's precious arena..."

"Didn't Kaossandra say something about every section having different protections? On top of the whole Castle's wards?" The lanky troll mentioned while he looked through the small backpack of snacks and water he dragged with them.

"Excellent observation, my dear Glummy." Kaos mock-fawned, then turned sour. "As my Mother so adores reminding me, she's the reason there are so many layers to Eon's blessings. However, I only need to 'crack the code' to a few of them to reach a quiet spot behind their arena. Water, please."

"And since Eon's worrying about the Final Trials, he won't notice you poking the shields?" Glumshanks guessed and handed the short tyrant a Hydro Flask full of ice.

"Exactly..." He cackled and drank. "The second the new generation of Skylanders graduates, I'll have won." He gloated, not for the first time, as he peered through his binoculars at the small, intricate markings carved into the walls and a line of stones surrounding the island.

"Sir!" Glumshanks whisper-yelled.

The troll tackled him to the ground, holding both of their heads into the soil so grass got up their noses. A sharp gust of wind got him to get off the Dark Portal Master's so they could look back at the spot of purple and orange gliding down to the town. He almost missed it, but he could tell it was definitely some kind of dragon, though he didn't get a good enough look to tell if it was a species he was familiar with. If he was lucky, it wasn't even a Skylander or just another meek hybrid like the Whirlwind or that young 'Echo' musician bent on filling his morning radio with electronic slop. Whatever case, it clearly came from the Skylanders' Castle.

"Thank you, Glumshanks." He brushed off his cloak and resumed spying on the wards from a better-covered spot behind a tree.

"Anytime, Lord Kaos." The troll saluted from the floor.

"You're not getting out of cleaning duty."

"I know, sir."

-<🌀>-

Replacing poorly connected and uninsulated wires, patching together pieces of stainless steel with his fire breath alone, burning away toxic sludges and molds, repairing cracked pipes, assembling wooden beams, creating charcoal; anything and everything Spyro could distract himself with, he did, and amassed a decent mountain of gold in the process. He hadn't even realised he'd been working into the night until the sky turned orange and gray. Not that it stopped him. He wasn't spending a coin on those two, nor the Academy. If he'd never worked for anything a single day in his life, then they wouldn't miss his money any more than they'd miss him.

Some of the Mabu knew something was wrong, he could tell. They were some of the ones in Miss Vanir's firm, Spyro guessed, if not friends or assistants and students of her employees. She had a knack for spotting the diamonds in the rough and the Elemental Paragon already knew it was gonna come back to bite him. That was why he was sure to avoid her entire quarter of the town. Big and strong she might've been, but she was still an old woman, even if her folks messaged her that something was wrong. Which was why he kept to the skies, to stay out of sight in case she began wandering from her cozy home and picture-perfect neighborhood never meant for him or one of the civilians whom he always would've failed to protect told her where he was going. He even soared between and around buildings to throw them off before he chose a direction.

He just didn't want anyone to see him like this.

So he worked and worked and worked; on all the little problems that rarely crossed his mind because he was busy bashing his head into books until his frill was flat and beat himself up in the arena until his scales had as many cracks as his bones, on all the small worries like a house's connection to water and electrical lines that he'd never needed to concern himself with because he wasn't a real homeowner and never would be, on all the interesting little projects he'd conjured in his dreams but could never act on because he had groceries and cleaning supplies to budget for, on all the streets and people far below him that he could never hope to learn because the Skylanders' Castle couldn't afford to stay still for more than a few weeks with the Academy and its Initiates at stake.

What if he built his own house? He may not have known how to fix Miss Vanir's roof, but he could put together a wooden one just fine, as he could a big frame and set up all of his utilities. If he built near a lake or river, then he wouldn't have to pay a water bill. Throw some nice trees up around it and he wouldn't mind being far away from civilization for... forever. Because it wasn't like he couldn't make his own power, he was a fire-breathing dragon, he was already a walking perpetual motion machine. Spyro would've needed steel, some tools, an axe, and some time to put everything together.

And not to be Eon's kid.

Spyro could never stay in one place, let alone settle down. The dragon could never put the skills he'd learned to use on a business. Never for a Skylander to make a home. Never for a Skylander to get to know their neighbors. Never for a Skylander to get attached to them. It was all strategy, all tactics, all logistics, and all action. What would've happened if he never knew Eon? What would've happened if someone else discovered him? He was still a dragon, it wouldn't have been hard to get into the Academy, and supposedly his egg wasn't that far from one of the spots it visited since Eon got to him. Maybe he could've spent some time there and figured out the rest of his life instead of becoming a Skylander. Maybe he could've been a Cadet nobody expected to be infinitely better than everyone else. Maybe he could've been seen skipping questions on a test or struggling to overcome a team of drones.

Maybe he wouldn't be worried about not having anything to put together or fix right now. He couldn't keep working all night, the Mabu were locking their doors and heading to bed. Soon, there was nobody who needed some pipes swapped out, nobody who needed something welded, nobody who needed a chair assembled, nobody who needed some wires crossed, nobody who needed him. All he had now was money and silence. Money couldn't buy someone's way to being a Skylander, only potential could, and his was running out.

His talons didn't feel like his. They weren't cold or hot, nor was the rest of his repeatedly battered body. They weren't him. His brow furrowed as he took flight, not feeling the flap of his wings or the tauntingly fresh and wild air brushing past his face. He did nothing but stare at the quaint town, but none of the buildings or the few people heading home were coherent, all just a bunch of vague shapes falling below him. His claws clasped shut, one by his body in a reflexive motion to be more aerodynamic while the other latched onto his left forearm until his nails drew blood that trailed down his scales and washed off his makeup as the wind pressure blew it back and away. His legs were tense, completely rigid, but felt so slack and his neck rigid.

Breathing shallow and hesitant, his flight started to shake and swerve. He couldn't feel his wings like he didn't exist, yet knew they were cold and sore. Had he had anything to drink recently? He couldn't feel his throat. He couldn't feel his stomach, but it was churning and flipping. He couldn't feel his flame sack, but it was swelling with magic waiting to mix with his lungs and explode out of his body. He couldn't feel his lungs, either, but they were burning yet full of the cold night's air. These scales weren't his, these wings weren't his, this life wasn't his, he was just a watcher. Not a great movie, if he was being honest.

Spyro did his best to get a handle on himself as he glided in the Academy's general direction. Eon had said plenty of times how powerful but dangerous emotionally-enhanced power could be. The Castle didn't need to be burned to the ground, the Water section didn't need to be boiled, the Earth section didn't need to be confused for the Fire section. He was better than this, he had to be better than this, or he didn't have what it took to be a Skylander. And then, what was he worth? Who was he? Why was he around?

Everything felt like it was swirling and coiling, tightening like a bunch of springs about to burst out of his scales like they were paper thin and even more fragile. He couldn't tell what it was. Sadness? It was too violent. Fear? Revulsion? The dragon couldn't tell; he just kept trying to put together what was consuming his mind, putting a name to every small but sharp and jagged part might help sort through it. The one thing that burned above the rest was anger, anger that shrieked and lashed out at the cage of his bones, anger that constricted his entire chest to squeeze out the flames slithering up his throat and embers leaking between his clenched fangs, anger that slithered down the length of his tail and stabbed outward along his wings like his muscles were being electrocuted.

Blood pumped through his body as his eyes clouded and face darkened. He could see out the corner of his eye, a small island forest that had been sectioned off by a metal fence. The links would do nothing to hold him back, even if he was on the ground. He lowered one wing to angle himself for the small patch. It was a demolition area, a fair distance from Master Eon and the heart of the town. Meant to be chopped down to make room for a new shopping center of some kind, every tree just another stepping stone to bringing the once easily forgotten hamlet closer to a thriving city. The forest wasn't close enough for anything like leaves or light branches to jump over the buildings, they had to be dragged there by someone.

It wasn't close enough for a fire to spread. It was already set to be removed and paved over with rich soil and cobblestone. Nobody would complain about the entire thing burning to the ground; if anything, it would renew and fertilize the soil after all the smoldering logs and stumps were removed. Nobody would care that it was removed by raging heat instead of a bunch of axes and saws, so long as the job was done. Nobody would miss it, the Mabu were never ones to deny some help, be it announced or surprising.

With the last of his clarity, Spyro landed behind the chain link fence and breathed. Blazing orange flames dimmer but hotter than anything he'd made before poured out of his jaws before he even breathed out. His body wasn't his own as he shot streams of flame faster than lightning bolts and further than his most concentrated fireballs. Bark stripped off of the trunks and twigs lining the ground flung into the air, pebbles glowed red and zipped through the foilage like tiny bullets, leaves fluttered on the boiling hot air and carried embers up to the canopy, and a thin line like a small wall of flame rapidly crawled across the slightly wet grass as the protective water flash boiled. It created a thin cover of burning steam like the layer of mist at the bottom of the icy bog at the edge of the Water and Life elements and glowed orange as the floating droplets refracted the rush of flames.

Even with the jet launching woodchips like throwing knives and shuriken, the trees were so thick and dense that the power was blocked off swiftly and swerved around the wood just to plow into the same problem a few feet back. Lines and dots of orange and yellow filled the branches and trunks like the trees were shining brightly from within, shrubs and patches of herbs burst into flames like they were made of magnesium or phosphorus, and the inside of the spreading ring of flames was full of charred grass. Rocks were turning dim red and puddles were evaporated as soon as he saw them. The air in his lungs burned and expanded out of his body, pushing his ribs apart before the fire renewed with even greater fervor.

No matter how much training he'd done and breath control he'd practiced, he'd never gotten his fireballs to shoot this fast and explode with this much force. Just one split apart multiple trees like they were no bigger than a few wooden posts held upright by a bunch of dry thatch and wood glue. The insides and gaps in the trees flashed with flames as they jumped a short distance in the air and flattened some smaller plants not caught in the initial blast. The fallen treetops made massive spots of gigantic flames extending the bush fire and holding matches to the roots of their neighbors. Dirty black smoke wafted through the branches, dispersing what few birds and rodents had refused to disperse after the very first stream.

Flakes of soot and plumes of smoke clouded his vision, but nothing could blind Spyro more than he had. Even stinging eyes could line up a wide cone of fire when the target was everything and anything. The cloudy outlines of seared trees smoldered and lit up orange like spires for him to charge into, sending them to the small forest floor with the smash of his horns. He gored the woods like they were common golems, slashed their sides apart with his claws like he was a spinning blade, stabbed them with the tip of his tail until the full weight of the plant crashed down on the hole in its base, and sennt waved of embers and the tips of flame flying yet deeper into the fold with the flap of his wings.

The deafening roar of the wildfire screamed over the crashing and falling and crackling of dry trees snapping apart and leaning away from the blind dragon like they were fleeing him, straight into a domino effect. Fumes shot up his nostrils, consumed by his melting lungs and pumping fire sack for another long stream around every corner and sniping the other end of the island. His legs and underbelly were consumed by the fires of tall grass, lovely flowers, thriving weeds, and thick bushes that danced over his chestplates and wrapped around his limbs. The upwards rush of hot air mixed with plasma illuminated and warmed his wings like they were hot air balloons.

Light flashed and sparked as the bottoms of his flames, the cores searing the forest floor and edges of trees, deeply darkened like swelling shadows. The small spots of black fire like smoke at the bottom of the golden flames sucked up leaves and other flammable debris before growing great and powerful enough to rip the roots right out from under massive plants all on their own and even began to cook Spyro's talons and the bottoms of his paws, brushing away the layers of ash coating his makeup and deforming his scales. The sides of his body rapidly warmed, yet froze so solid that he had trouble moving forward and around the shrubbery to watch more angles and blast apart more trees.

Obelisks of fire launched up his sides and tore the tips of his wings, they tightened their grip on his tail from the pointed tip to the broad base. Like a bear trap, they closed over the ridges on his back, blackening and blowing away the orange polish as they sucked up the light and lashed out at his frill and wings with the orange flames on the outside of the black energy rushing through his spine. The gross amount of product in his frill melted away, it stiffened upright in some parts and frayed out at others.

The outsides of his scales grew as hot and pained as the insides and his jaw as his claws glowed and seared through the mud. The polish of the pearly tips cracked and flaked off as specks of bright fire rushed forth for another strike to the side of a tree and a stomp on a bush. His burning claws glowed incredibly bright yellow and exploded over twice the thickness of his forearms in a bright orange aura that completely covered his hands, blasting open solid wood with punches as weighty as his fireballs and tail. The spear-like tip of his tail left multiple streaks of fire in its wake as the base of each segment sliced through bark and greenery.

His horns and the spikes at the tips of his wings flashed with equally mighty flames that pierced trees as he rammed their sides and flung them over his head like a quartet of flametongue daggers. It made a mane of fire around his neck of stinging scales and left a trail of auroras so hot that they made the sky ripple with heat. The steam of frustrated tears left patches of melting salt on his vaporising eyeliner that ached as much as his upper arms and thighs as he honed in on one, especially large tree and grabbed it by the sides. Spyro bashed his head into the front with his momentum and continued to push with all his might. Its roots craned and creaked and snapped as they totally dried out and ripped apart the dirt, formerly mud, holding it as deep into the ground as the branches reached for the Portal Master's Keep for help.

Spyro's bloodshot eyes, lightly burnt scales, and searing talons turned down to the soil as the tree collapsed. His rough throat and stuffy nose glowed and hummed as he unleashed another of many jets of fire with the force and recoil to make his fangs feel loose and vibrate his entire head. His frill burned like a wall of flames coating his spine even mightier than the disintegrating canopies as they fell to the floor. His scales hurt, his muscles hurt, his body hurt, his head hurt, his legs hurt, his wings hurt, his breathing hurt, his heart hurt, everything finally giving out and falling to the ashen dirt and charred grass hurt. But it was all on the outside, he could deal with disinfecting a wound, nursing a headache, and powering through a bruise.

A dragon getting hurt by its own fire? Seriously? Pathetic, no wonder he replaced you, you did this to yourself. His head pounded and empty stomach cursed. He sneezed as soot flew up his nose and his mouth was bone dry. Spyro's eyes and forked tongue felt swollen as his panting slowed and the crushing weight on his chest doubled, his eyes were heavy and dry as a suffocating darkness masked his fire-covered face.

Chapter Text

A light touch of smoke billowed off to the side of the Castle, far from the normal meeting spot. That place was at least undisturbed, the flowers were all alright and the trees were growing strong. The grass and soft soil squished beneath her ebony paws and talons. Her platinum cuffs tightly squeezed her forelegs much less carefully, they were in need of resizing. Spyro mentioned metallurgy when they were high, maybe he'd cut her a deal but he'd never get to use it.

The chill of the morning dew coated her dark scales and chest plates as Cynder momentarily rested on the floral bed and exhaled a plume of vapor in the gentle light of day, just like the frost of the heavy storm and the whirls of cool air funneling down to the void. Lightning still buzzed in her chest, unstable and wild. She'd never get to tell the purple dragon how she held the bolts in her horns and spikes. He'd never get to be a massive nerd about the most random wars and their vital battles, nor would they get to take a huff and trash-talk his least favorite cybernetic dragon. Her mission was simple and left the dragoness with no other options, her Father made that clear.

Eon's precious little Castle would be moving by the end of the week, this was her last chance to get to him before he officially became a Skylander. She wasn't sure which was more humiliating: getting him right after he became a hero recognized by all of Skylands, or just before the finish line. He was a good guy, painfully himself and a blast to reduce to a blushing mess, not some common, uptight 'high and mighty' freak she wanted taken down a notch almost as much as her Father did. His laugh might've been as fake as the persona but his giggle was a gleaming beacon that got her to break character more than a few times, no weed required (but very welcome, that was a great night).

Why did it have to be him?

Who was she kidding? She was the one who selected him. Cynder needed a target, anyone with promise, and she settled for the first option because trying to connect with multiple choices wasn't worth the risk. The one she chose was the one she got attached to. Hearing it was another Elemental Paragon would make her Father ecstatic. As far as Malefor went, at least. He was never happy unless something was burning to the ground or an airship full of gold and gems on its way to his coffers.

She would get her cut of the loot, she always got something. 'Something' was usually a book or scroll to make her more effective for whatever project he threw her at next, but she'd get a few days off, especially for this. A few days to hang out with Eugenie and work on portals with her, that should get her another few days without the Dark Master breathing down her neck. Only a week, but it would feel like eternity when it came. She just had to do a good job. And there was still the chance that one day, when she found out, the Portal Master might forgive her. Maybe she was quick to latch onto the bright-eyed girl, but Jenny was the only one around. T-bone was nice enough when he wasn't on guard duty, but that was the extent, few others dared be so casual and unprofessional with 'the Terror of the Skies.' Eugenie was more of a blessing than she'd ever know, no matter how doomed they both were from the start, always so close yet so out of reach.

Part of her did want to tell the girl, despite knowing full well there was a high chance it would kill them both. At least she'd die standing instead of opening portals to totally random, and definitely clear points in space, none the wiser. But maybe a heretic's whispers were what Eugenie needed. If anyone could slip out of her Father's tungsten grip, it was a Portal Master of Air. The first of many questions eating at Cynder was whether or not that was worth the risk. It wasn't like locking down the portal platforms would keep the girl from escaping at any time, and expanding the teleportation wards beyond Malefor's Lair would mean he also couldn't use her powers.

For Eugenie, at least, it was a coin flip, but Cynder didn't want to show her Father's hand until the odds were in the Portal Master's favor. At the end of the day, her getting out would be good enough. She knew enough about the Castle to get Jenny out right before meeting something she couldn't overcome. The black dragon already failed Spyro, but she'd make sure Jenny was okay when her time came. Until then, there wasn't much to do but just as little time to get herself ready to finish this, once and for all.

She cracked her knuckles and stretched from the edge of the island to the end of the flower bed. Her tail flicked in agitation and her talons flexed anxiously. She knew they'd never met up early, this should've been expected, but she figured the dragon with eyebags as deep as the dungeons probably didn't sleep much. Not that she knew what he did in the morning. Maybe he finally got a nap, since today was his last test. Her wings popped as she stretched, I'm seeing a chiropractor when I'm done here, and thrust her in the air.

If Spyro wasn't on his island or at his house, whichever of the heavily guarded Initiate homes that might've been, then he might've checked out the big smokestack. He'd never smoked a blunt in the time they'd been together but it wasn't like she had any other ideas or the wish to see him. Maybe something fell and caught fire. Cynder doubted he'd be that irresponsible as she silently glided to the other isle, and he had a clear preference for a bong, but she was well beyond the point she'd take any excuse to put this off 'til the very last second.

It was just her luck that a familiarly purple spot was buried in some loose ash facing away from the Skylanders' Castle. She didn't descend, yet, not having a story to explain how she found him here prepared. Spyro didn't look up at her, though, he didn't even move. His brain was usually so foggy and completely drained that it was hard to tell if he was asleep or a little less active, but she could feel the presence of his mind not far below her.

Cynder kept circling the island just in case. She just needed a bit of time to decide if he was sleeping or warming up, and was more than fast enough to dash behind cover if he jolted awake. The trees were all thoroughly dead, burnt to a crisp. Naught but their shattered stumps were left standing and the soil was painted black with renewing char. The grass was all gone, the shrubs were a ton of fragile remains of twigs protruding from the dirt and crumbling at the slightest breeze, and the flowers were wilted spots of spark-shaped blackness with spots of ashen gray like wither roses buried by snow.

The burning didn't look calculated or optimised. Definitely not the work of the Mabu, they would've chopped the trees down, but she expected a child of the Skylanders to be more efficient than this. Rather than there being lines of splintered plants where his lightning bolts would've been able to explode multiple trees at a time, there were obvious craters where blasts had been shot directly at individual trees. Powerful lightning strikes for certain, but not as effective as they could've been going line-by-line into the heart of the forest like the island was a pie or grid. This wasn't the work of a thought-out and pristinely executed plan, this wasn't a Skylander's perfect crime, this was spontaneous and heedlessly destructive. This wasn't what Spyro should've been.

Upon deciding this as good an opportunity as she'd ever get, she slowly soared down to the center of the island. The black twigs and foliage were so burnt that they didn't even crunch when she stepped on them, they scattered and flattened like dust. Her scales blended in with the shadows and charcoal as she slithered closer to the only other one of her kind she'd ever seen. The dagger of her tail and the spikes lining turned seared flowers to dust and slid over small piles of ash, though none of it so much as stirred the exhausted dragon. He laid there and made tiny clouds and sand storms of soot with his gentle, even breaths. He was facing away from the soft morning light of the Castle, never again to see the shine of the Core of Light. Despite how she wanted to wake him and brush this all off like her head wasn't on the line, this was where his story ended.

Her wings gently unfurled and angled down to prop her up and block out whatever low light was shining by his face. Nothing would disturb him, this would all be over soon. Dark magic curled down her arm, collecting in her talons as she called upon the twisted power her Father granted her: a single piece of Petrified Darkness. It was carefully carved with two sharp points on the top and bottom with four more pyramid-like points arranged like an X between them, a small spire full of violet and pink energy that fumed dense purple shadows in a tight orb around her claws. She could feel the tendrils of magic poking and prodding her scales as if she were walking into the heart of her Father's kingdom, into his lair, though much more isolated than the Dark Master's oppressing presence.

Cynder shakily lifted the artifact above her six sharp horns, clasping its sides with both paws. Like the crystal knew what it was here for, the shadows swelled and spiraled down to Spyro's sleeping form, slightly adjusting the corrupted arcana's angle to auto-aim for the resting dragon's form. The symbol on her head and her cyan eyes glowed cyan with psionics as she burrowed into Spyro's brain, using the crystal's power to put pressure on his mind and willpower before completing the task. If this dragon was so close to the last Portal Master that he was worried to death about being replaced, then he'd know where the map to the Core of Light was hidden.

Spyro winced in his sleep. His jaw and eyelids tightened, but she could feel through his mind that he remained far from consciousness. His claws clenched and breathing shuddered, his tail flicked and wings twitched, his scales smeared with blackness as the ash slid off his body. Slowly, his pained movements slowed and groans slurred. With a pathetic wheeze, the dragon who'd done nothing but try to be her friend went slack and shivered off a large amount of blackness, just enough to give her pause as the dark wisps tried to consume the dragon and obscure her vision.

There were subtle ripples and lightning bolt-like lines across some of his scales. Not many by any means, but enough to stand out. Had he been burned? Or shocked? They might've been lightning dragons but their scales were hardly vulnerable to some simple fire. Not even magical fire, just the flames created in the aftermath of their own lightning strikes. Unless he could breath a lot of extremely powerful fire with some special gimmick or effect beyond that of a normal fire dragon, more likely the result of a magic item like a scepter or staff, then there was no way for his steely scales to have burn marks.

She knew the Mabu wouldn't have access to magical fire, certainly nothing strong enough to harm a Skylander, let alone use it, but the flames of a burning forest were just as incapable. Yet here she was, viewing the uncomfortably recognizable marks of scales exposed to unnaturally strong flames. The aura of the Petrified Darkness curled and spread like tentacles over the marks, out of sight, out of mind. It didn't deter her.

Cynder brought the sharpened gem down not into Spyro's chest, but carefully dropped it beside her as she lightly ran her claws over the markings. His muscles tensed and chest convulsed into a cough but he didn't rear up, which didn't stop her from making extra sure he was out, psychically stunning him while he was down. He was the last person whose face she wanted to see contort in pain like that, not that the list was long.

He smelled smoky, which was amusingly pleasant for the situation, but his scales were definitely burned. She'd learned to be observant through trial by fire, and there was nothing here strong enough to create even these small decorations. The irony wasn't lost on her. A ton of fire and lava flowed freely through an eighth (maybe ninth, she couldn't risk a good look at how much of the Castle took up their connected isles) of the Skylanders' territory, but he was still a dragon regularly wandering the Castle. It was magical, but she wouldn't go so far as to call it burn magical. Not enough to harm Spyro without him noticing and casually moving away before anything came of it.

But there was one person she knew could do this.

Did Eon do this?

The Portal Master had the power, and not just through arcane flames. He had to have some especially powerful flames buried deep in his arsenal. The same went for lightning, there were strong differences between the two but a lightning bolt splitting into several smaller branches scattering across his scales might make something similar to a fiery scar. It would be difficult and inefficient, a pretty pointless skill to refine, but the ancient wizard had loads of time on his hands; he could put the pointless time and practice into such a pointless magic trick. Light they might've been, leaving impermanent injuries they might've, but Eon could pull this off.

A supposedly glorious dragon, put down on the cold stones of a castle courtyard, covered in burns and ash less severe on his hide than they were in her memory.

He looked like her.

-<🌀>-

Already Oxyday.

For the first time all week, Stealth Elf woke up when she wanted to. She wasn't shocked awake by her dreaded alarm clock, she wasn't stirred to life by one of the purple dragon's too-early showers, the clanging of Eruptor's favorite pots and pans as he prepared breakfast didn't shake her. The only thing holding her down was her blankets, but a weight like a bag of bricks pinned her to her mattress. Sleeping in was a rare luxury afforded to the Aspirants on the morning of their Trials, but she already knew she'd feel no more rested than if she got up now. Once she was awake, there was no getting back to sleep. Elfie kicked off her sheets and cast aside her pajamas, donning her brown boots, leggings, skirt, tunic, gloves, and bandana before steeling herself before her door.

She lifted her shoulders, raised her chin, and took a deep breath, but the purple dragon wasn't on the other side. The sound of a dusty old gaming console beeping to life didn't come down the halls, his talons didn't scrape along the floorboards, and the shower hadn't started running. He far from the loudest person in the house, he'd never been from the tight apartments of their Neophyte years to their upcoming graduation, but he wasn't always sneaking around. Her ear tilted to the side, toward his room, but still picked up nothing. It made a vine clench around her heart.

With a stretch and a shift of her stance, she jumped off the second floor and landed lightly on her feet at the kitchen counter. There was plenty of time to warm up and check on Eruptor, the Trials didn't happen until later in the day. The light filtered through the windows, sprouting from the center of the Skylanders' Castle. By the end of the day, they'd be standing before Master Eon as heroes for the very first time, their portraits and Souls within the Book of Skylanders alongside the likes of Master Ambush and Chop Chop. Their lives' work, all their training, all their studying, everything was leading them to the Final Trials. Should they pass, it would finally be done.

Were they still going to be a team? She and Eruptor paired well as a Tank and Assassin; she wasn't fully sure what Spyro did, but an extra set of claws and fire breath was good nonetheless. A Light or Earth Skylander would be appreciated every once in a while but from day one, she'd intended to work alone. Skylanders being one-man armies and almost never working together was the impression she'd gotten from Master Ambush, but having the choice taken away right at the last second wasn't how she wanted to do it. Could they be a team, anymore? This isn't what I wanted.

"Rough night?" Eruptor asked.

Elfie jumped out of her skin, she didn't hear him coming down. "A little." She admitted. Having chugged a full sleeping potion helped, as did the dreamless sleep, but waking up wasn't so easy.

Neither felt like trying to cook and there was plenty in the pantry, might as well treat themselves on their big day. Maybe one of them could fry up some eggs whenever Spyro came down. The Lava Elemental grabbed a bag of charcoal bites while Stealth Elf's favorite cinnamon cookies had been restocked. These things were so hard to find outside of Life Elemental areas, she didn't know how he did it. They were soft and melted on her tongue like a bunch of little Snikerdoodles.

Eruptor's face was sour and his spikes were hissing steam as the tip of the bag was melted in his magma blobs. The black puffs stuck to his 'hands' much easier than most foods. They were sweet and bubbled in his mouth like heated caramel. He and the forest elf sat in silence. Spyro still hadn't shown himself. His footsteps weren't carrying through the first floor in that incredibly annoying this house carried sound, his door hadn't opened a crack. He was just gone. Every spark of combined hope and tension was dashed as soon as it arrived, just another echoing creak.

The Lava Elemental still didn't want to be like the brash dragon. "Thanks for picking these up." He made sure to appreciate the elf.

"Thanks for finding these." She said at the same time.

They blinked at each other a few times, both with a treat in their hand and halfway in their mouths.

"Didn't you go to the market this week?" Elfie asked as Erupto ate his snack.

"I haven't gone in weeks. I just got some new stuff, I thought you were restocking the kitchen." He explained.

Stealth Elf munched on her cookie and looked around. "When was the last time you cleaned?"

"Yesterday morn-" The Elemental began.

"I don't mean the dishes." She clarified.

He thought for a moment and tossed another charcoal bite into his mouth, then shrugged. "What about you?"

"...I cleaned the mirror recently." She hummed.

They both drifted toward Spyro's door, still shut with not the slightest sound echoing through the door. "Of course." Eruptor huffed and dumped the bag of charcoal bites in his mouth.

For the first time today, very out of character, Elfie teleported. Straight to the dragon's door, she lifted a hand for a split second before pausing. Her fist was an inch from the too-thin wood but wouldn't close the gap.

"...Spyro?" She squeaked, not wanting to wake him up. Eruptor's footsteps didn't have the tiptoe option. The dragon got half of her sleeping potions, but not last night, he had to be awake.

"Hey, Sy..." The Elemental inhaled. "We're sorry-"

Elfie lightly shushed him and suspiciously eyed the door, eventually pressing the side of her head to it and closing her eyes. Her long ear twitched as it was pinned to her hair. Nothing. No early morning games, despite how long it'd been since he touched the controller. The sound of a soda can cracking open didn't hiss under the crack of the door, his sheets and pillows weren't rustling as he obsessively neatly made his bed, and his light footsteps weren't trotting toward the door.

Eruptor looked like he was about to have the magma equivalent of a heart attack as she hesitantly reached for the dragon's doorknob. Entering without knocking? Heresy! She humored him and finally brought herself to hit the wood a few times; if the Lava Elemental's footsteps didn't wake up everyone in the whole damn house, then nobody was going to react to her knocking. Elfie slowly slid the door open without resistance. It wasn't even locked. His room was a little more bare-bones than either of their, just with some old band posters and a somewhat fancy frame with a picture of him and Eon on his nightstand. How much of their food came from him going shopping at random times? IS THIS WHY HE NEVER HAS MONEY FOR PIZZA!?

Spyro's bed was as neatly made as ever, all of his sheets and comforter were stuffed into the crook of the round mattress and the bedframe, his pillows were carefully fluffed up and placed by the headboard, and the thin curtains behind it that they'd had since they moved in were fastened open by the tassels near the middle. He never slept with those open, it'd been a specific and obvious pet peeve of his ever since their first night in the same cramped apartment as a team. Meaning the purple dragon had to be awake by now! But where was he?

Of course, if anyone could get in and out without Elfie noticing, it had to be the one missing fire wyrm they needed to see. And he kept everything so insanely clean that it was impossible to tell when the last time he'd been here was, even his gaming console had only the lightest layer of dust on the top and that wasn't going to tell them anything. Every step o she took on the soft carpet felt like an intrusion, probably because it was and the two of them would be all over anyone who invaded their rooms like this. Not to mention they were in the private space of the one guy they knew (not that they knew a lot of people, to be painfully honest) who'd absolutely notice a single spot of mud or a blade of grass from the bottom of her shoe. She should've checked them before getting wrapped up in this.

"...We have to get to the arena." She turned to the Elemental. Everything looked so big compared to her room, but the guys' places were no bigger; they'd measured when they moved in. Eruptor's room was the only other spot that could make her feel so small.

"Maybe he beat us there." The big oaf offered and put a gentle magma blob on her shoulder.

"I'm not sure that's better." She swallowed.

Eruptor retracted his arm and stepped out of the way of Spyro's door. "Well... welcome to the club."

-<🌀>-

"I still don't get what dragging me along is gonna accomplish." George sighed as he strapped an odd shoulder pad... thing to his right arm.

Eon helped him fasten the buckle behind him as he hummed an unfamiliar tune, which distantly reminded him of his grandma and Mom's favorite Beatles album. He still didn't know how Dad got a record player for their anniversary. The shoulder pad was a hardened leather half-vest thingamabob that rested over his ribcage with some gold rivets in the bottom. Some stitching around the bottom made it look like the rivetless top half was hiding some hinge where the half-dome shoulder piece could slide and shift mostly freely. It was enough to be noticeably stiff, but he could rotate his arm. There was another small curve right beneath the dome that went down his upper arm, about a third or halfway down. For some reason, both of them had three rivets at the bottom middle and sides, he wasn't sure what they attached to.

A tight black belt wrapped around his stomach. It had some brown Xs along it and a gold rivet that rested over his right kidney, also with no obvious purpose beyond decoration. He'd been provided a pair of leather forearm guards with four rivets along the sides of the muscle and three by the wrist. A small protrusion extended barely beyond the back of his hand, letting him feel how strong it was. Held down by the belt and tucked under the shoulder piece was a toga-looking thing, light blue like the wizard's robes but with some gold sun-like details in one corner. The fabric draped over his left leg down to his knee and extended diagonally across his chest, down to his waist just above the belt, then wrapped back up around his spine. It left a spot on his right side where the bright white hekm of his shirt could be seen over the top of his black pants.

"I admit I want you to see the challenges the Skylanders need our help to face, even imitations, but I think getting some fresh air and experiencing Skylands' finest would be a good break from holing yourself up in my study. I know very well what that can do to someone." Eon chuckled and finished with the back of his shoulder thing, snapping the top of the robe to the back of the leather and stepping away. "Besides, seeing another Portal Master standing at their Final Trials can be inspiring to anyone. This is a very special occasion."

"And then you'll leave me alone?" He hoped in vain.

"If any of the Aspirants succeed, then I'd appreciate if you were there for the graduation, but yes, you may return to your studies." The old man smiled patiently. "Now then, let us commence."

His hand flashed with bright cyan magic that swirled and burst out like fireworks. Around Eon, it became a gleaming mass of blinding light, around George, it coalesced and turned into a dusting of sand and pebbles appearing from nothing. In a blink, they were at the head of a colosseum-like building with Students and random Mabu packed tightly into the uncomfortable-looking seats overseeing the sandy circle before the Portal Masters. They looked more like giant steps than a bunch of seats for a long robot fight. There was everyone from a light blue alligator with a crystaline bow on his back to an elderly cyclops with eyes on top of each other and custom glasses. She looked worried.

Standing on some small plates before the wizard's podium were several familiar faces he expected to see in the crowd. The green elf from yesterday was dressed in all her usual attire, as was the lava golem, but Hex and Roller Brawl were right beside them. The elf was standing in the middle with the two Undead to her right, George's left, and the golem on the other side. Next to him was one more steel circle with a gold outline, but it was blank. Where's Spyro?

George could see the two mumbling the same question before Eon took the center stage. Barbella and Terrafin lightly waved to him from the side, he gave them a grin as his eyes wandered. So many people. Lastly, on the other side of the Portal Master, was a towering blue and brass knight holding a shield away from George and an absolutely gigantic sword in his closer gauntlet. A cape lightly fluttered in the breeze, as did the fiery yellow and purple aura about the enormous blade. None of the knight's four, glowing yellow orbs glanced his way, but just seeing it standing there was like a million dots pointing at him, suffocating like being lowered into a grave.

"Welcome to your final test." Eon's soft voice boomed throughout the island-shaking cheers. "Your opportunity to prove you're worthy of joining the protectors of our universe."

No pressure. George silently remarked. "By making it here, you have displaced great dedication to the Skylands, and to each other."

Eon turned from his microphone as applause and chants drowned his disappointed sigh, but George was close enough to hear it. "A dedication clearly not everyone is capable of." He huffed.

"Is nobody gonna ask where Spyro went?" George leaned toward the Earth Skylanders. Both politely acknowledged him with a shrug, but neither had an answer.

"Those of you that pass will join one of our teams of Skylanders based at the Academy and, with your colleagues, you will maintain the balance and harmony of our world, fighting against the threat of Darkness and disorder." He inhaled and outstretched his arms to the entire crowd. "Without further adieu, let the games begin." Cheers and cries reignited in the purple dragon's absence.

-<🌀>-

Spell after spell, barrier after barrier, counter after counter.

Hex did everything she could, she did, but it rapidly became even clearer than last year that the almighty grasp on her magic from before her battle with the Dark Master didn't carry to her newly Undead nature. The basics she could still do just fine, but the gleaming light and steel-shattering rays of radiance she once easily twirled in the palm of her hand were in another life. Between the vastly different Elemental workings between Light and Undead, devastating the Life and Earth challenges were the closest taste of the Dark Elf's long-lost power she'd gotten since the last time she took on the Final Trials.

Against Fire and Magic, however, her predicament became impossible to ignore. The flames and unaligned spells carved through her defenses, which were as unnatural to her as the skull she was forced to summon to get a handle on her horribly altered powers. The Light that shone from deep within her was no longer defending her from the ever-present nature of clashing Elements, she was no longer so indifferent to the arcana of other forces.

Malefor, the Dark Master, had no such problems with the shift from Dark to Undead. The concepts were far better aligned than Light and Undead, not to mention he was the source of the immensely destructive revival spell she only barely protected the populous from. Once upon a time, the Magic segment of the Trials wouldn't have made her break a sweat, but such days of glory were far behind her as her biggest enemy grew his empire in her absence. She had to work to become a Skylander just for a chance to put the ancient dragon down for good. Such an opportunity felt ever more distant.

The fifth test was her undoing. She at least knew the inner workings of Light magic and could recognise the spells the related drones were casting before they happened but a part of her knew she was done for when the roll of the dice for the fifth trial landed on Fire. Light and Dark were supposed to be divided across all of the Trials, but the system and Portal Master discovered how much she struggled with the Dark opponents very quickly; she wasn't sure if the Portal Master remembered her last attempt and tweaked the Trials from behind his podium, if the system was able to retrieve her data from the last attempt and flung the correct enemy at her, or if the difference even mattered.

Skull had some colorful words to mumble under his nonexistent breath as the Lava Elemental took his turn. Eruptor didn't take the Fire Supercharger for the obstacle course segment, which was very weird to see, but he got through the first portion of the Trials just fine so he had to have something up his sleeve. He predictably demolished the Undead and Air Trials, but the Tech and Water Trials didn't give him nearly as much trouble as her weaknesses did Hex. He boiled away the Water attacks that he couldn't block, which were many of them, like they came from children's water guns. Far from a dodge tank, he still had the compact frame and reaction time to lean out of the way enough for Tech attacks to whizz by his face distantly enough for his tough outer layers to protect him.

She didn't want Roller Brawl to fail, but seeing the little sister she never signed up for was about to repeat the Aspirant year with her. The vampire was quick and precise, impressive as ever, even to the young Portal Master who hadn't the slightest idea how Skylands worked just a year ago, but even she had limits. She failed by the fourth Trial through no fault of her own. Hex was lucky that one of her weaknesses appeared later, Roller got Fire and Magic back to back. Her speed and power eventually brought down the Tanks and Warriors of the first Element, both of which did their jobs by the time Magic came around. They lost to the same base Element while the skater got annihilated by Light additions instead of Dark. It was of some comfort.

Then came Stealth Elf. The terrifying girl was a blaze of dragon-fang daggers when she wasn't in the arena, but she took to the stage effortlessly. She crushed the Superchargers test with the Stealth Stinger helicopter at absurd speeds like the vehicle was a part of her. Nothing stopped her when the meat of the Trials came around, she rushed the Supporters and ranged combatants with deadly hits and danced circles around the rest, making them play her game.

Everyone in the arena and crowd at first thought she was screwed when Air was the very first Element in the lineup. Despite her bad luck, she visibly had a fantastic hold of the Element's strengths and weaknesses. She cut down the archers and mages of the waves, leaving the rest of her competition in shambles. The Fighters, Supports, and Tanks were devastated. Both smaller enemies had some speed, but only the naturally swift Swashbucklers and unarmed Brawlers had the agility to keep up with the ninja with the help of the Supporters. And even then she didn't bother with them, the buff primarily an evasion bonus, not necessarily an attack speed or frequency increase. That would be more of the Tech Supporters' field.

Rather than waste energy trying to keep pace with the combat drones, she made short work of the pathetic Air Tanks while they were chasing her. Those and the Water Tanks were quite notorious for their ease, being the solid rocks of Elements that leaned more into evasion and diversion. The guards of those Elements went down as fast as the Supporters behind them. From there, the usually very problematically fast and accurate attackers dropped like flies. She even made the Air Element's intimidatingly strong archers look like jokes as she caught their arrows with the wiggle-room to stop and decide if she was going to throw them back to the sender's targeting apparatus or teleport behind them and stab them in the back.

Neither the Light or Dark elite fighters had any advantage or disadvantage, meaning they'd be divided when the Final Trial came and their stacking Elemental bonuses would clash in the elf's favor. She struggled for a fraction of a second against the frustratingly resilient Undead Tanks, but they were soon just as big of a joke. She dashed and twirled around them, making small slashes at the edges of their armor and severing their hydraulic pipes one at a time, taking them slow whenever she got an opening while she juggled the damage dealers and back line. Master Eon ordered the system to stop throwing archers at her by the time the Undead Trial arrived, but it was too late. The Mages and Supporters were jokes and the Tanks were close to collapsing by the time the rest of her foes were cleared out.

The panting through her bandana and the sweat pouring down her entire body felt more like a joke than genuine exertion, with how easily she appeared to dispatch the drones. Minimal slips across the fine sand and few mistakes in her still brutal strikes to her enemies' weak spots. George was understandably more impressed by the expert elf and indestructible Lava Elemental than her and Roller Brawl, Hex couldn't blame him. These two earned the mantle of Skylanders who completed the Final Trials on their first try.

She still wasn't sure where Spyro was, though. That was very concerning, to say the least. He should've been the last person to miss this!

-<🌀>-

Spyro's head was pounding and his muscles were all aching when he awoke, which was pretty par for the course by now. A very distant voice rambled away as he stirred, struggling to open his eyes and finding no footing as his paws slid across black and gray ash. He was better than normal, at least; it didn't take too long to blink away the sleep, his claws and limbs weren't painfully tensed to the point he needed a full minute to force them to relax, and his mind cleared faster than most nights. Smears of soot covered the bottoms of his legs and chest plates, though much less than he would've expected.

His memory of yesterday was clearer than he wanted, but he was sure he'd been coated head to tail in a thick blanket of ash and charcoal. And his fire... What happened? Was it black? Just a little bit? All he saw was red, everything else blurred together and melded into a raging fury of senseless flame and pointless destruction. He managed to look behind him at the ruined forest. The Mabu still hadn't arrived to investigate it, they were all unusually quiet for the middle of the day. There were still some smoldering spots deeper in the remains of the woods, the red glows of dying embers shone through the decimated pieces of branches and roots. Even the large and sturdy stumps were sodered corpses of the massive trees they once were.

Walking hurt a little less. It wasn't usually that bad unless he'd been to the arena the night before, but the aches in his tendons were easy to stretch out as he got his bearings. Spyro's amber eyes were unfocused and heavy, but he could see clearly enough to know his scales were seared last night. Not a lot, but he should've had some light marks down by his feet. Yet not only were they clear, he almost felt okay like he'd had an ice pack without the Soul-sucking cold. He warmed up pretty fast, too. The light was beaming on his back and the lingering heat of his embarrassing tantrum helped get his heart up to speed.

"This concludes your final test." The far away voice echoed louder throughout the Skylands.

...No... His mind began catching up. NO!

"As we close this year's Final Trials, I would like to offer my highest congratulations to our newest Skylanders, Stealth Elf and Eruptor!"

Cheers and applause made the air tremble and islands shake as Eon closed off the Arena.

Spyro's legs buckled, harshly flopping him to the ground. He sat and blinked in silence, unsure how long he spent staring at nothing but the general direction of the arena. Eon's tower loomed high over the massive Castle, high above the eight Elements, high above the burnt island. He didn't just fail, he didn't even show up. The gears in his mind turned and turned faster and faster but caught on nothing, processed nothing, no matter how many times his caretaker's words bounced around his skull.

A sudden exhale like a cough escaped his lips, then it happened a few more times in increasingly rapid succession. Soon, it turned into a series of light chokes, slowly growing into throaty chuckles.

The failed Skylander's muffled giggling gradually turned to howling laughter.

Chapter Text

"Spyro, I understand you're mad but please call us!" Stealth Elf paced back and forth before their front door as Eruptor finished a similar call.

"Nothing." He muttered and dialed the purple dragon again.

They were trying to pack up their rooms at the same time, it wasn't going well but any progress was still progress. A weight dragged behind them as they sprinted all around and outside the house. Boxes were rapidly piling but the front door almost as fast as missed calls filled Spyro's phone, wherever it was. The elf even tripped a couple of times, almost flinging herself down the stairs if not for a sudden teleport in the middle of a voicemail. Eruptor was a little more careful than that, if only because he was a lot slower than his teammates. Whether or not they were still teammates had yet to be spoken, especially on the dragon's side.

"We're worried about you, just say you're okay!" The Lava Elemental poorly juggled his phone while shoving a leaning tower of boxes upright.

Finished way too soon, they resorted to checking their rooms and the insides of the boxes over and over. There weren't even that many of them, neither of the new Skylanders owned much of their own. One was more than happy to leave everything behind and the other lived with a sapient tree in the middle of nowhere before he ran away from it all to the Academy and she put the advice of her Masters to use elsewhere. Eruptor had some cookbooks and a small box of old family photos abandoned in his closet, Elfie had a small pile of spare clothes and nightgowns, and both of them had some bedding and generic trinkets like figurines, comic books, or a Ninjini poster. But those were the extent of their collections; the rest were utensils and whatever was buried in the linen closet.

He had some pots and pans buried in the kitchen, the nice kind the Academy hadn't provided, and Elfie had the dragon fangs she carried everywhere with her, Eruptor supposed and hobbled to the kitchen as he rambled another message. His phone was starting to heat up in his magma blob, and not because it was getting used so much. Stealth Elf was saying something from her room as he opened some cabinets, sorted out what he owned versus the pans they'd left to gather dust, and discovered a pair of boxes placed neatly on top of each other.

The bottom one was a fiery red, covered in a shiny orange emblem of the Fire Element, the one stacked on top of it was mossy green with a paler Life Element symbol. They were attached together by a silky golden ribbon with a small card tucked beneath the bow. He pulled out all of his pots and pans with the boxes on top and set them on the kitchen island. Elfie finished blowing up Spyro's phone another two times before she noticed the gifts, letting Eruptor stall by packing up the last of his things. All the two had left was to strip the sheets from their beds when it was finally time to move into their Skylander homes. Their separate Skylander homes.

Stealth Elf set down her phone on the kitchen counter and stared at the boxes like they were a fire. She reached out a hand, then retracted it back to her chest, practically waiting for the gifts to stab her. The Elemental, meanwhile, dragged a pair of chairs to the island and took a seat. It took the ninja an uncharacteristically long few seconds to notice. Neither were sure how long they sat before the presents, but it felt like the Skylands had been born and all history passed them by like a couple observing stones by the time he hesitantly enveloped the bow with a blob. The ribbon came undone easily, he slid the top present to the forest elf and seared a tiny part of one corner of the bottom so it was easier to tear away without fingers.

"No way..." He mumbled with wide yellow eyes and a toothy smile, picking up and flicking through the charcoal black cookbook with gold caps on the corners and an orange and yellow-filled magma design etched into the cover.

It was a very detailed recipe book of everything in his small library. Almost every one of them had been made before, and had a little picture and anecdote about the first time he prepared the dish for the dragon and elf. Birthday Parties, unforgettable kitchen mishaps, picnics they'd completely forgotten about and couldn't have been retrieved without some degree of memory magic. The only things without some silly story attached were the completely new options, and those all had some blank spaces and cutout spots for descriptions and pictures like a diary, along with plenty of free pages. All of it was fireproof, he could feel the magical film through his lava.

Elfie didn't open her gift, she just slowly glanced between Eruptor's perfect cookbook and the small card. It was more of a little, unnaturally neat cursive blurb scratched onto a piece of cardstock. 'Eruptor and Elfie, the greatest Skylanders I've ever met.' Her head thudded on the counter, then her ears perked like a cat's. They rotated and flicked as she looked around. He turned to glance along the walls as well, but he didn't have her senses or instincts, he had no idea what she was looking for until she lightly held a finger to her lips and slowly turned her pupilless eyes up to Spyro's bedroom door.

He didn't want to move or speak, just in case he somehow stopped whatever she'd noticed, especially since she heard something. The floorboards creaked and squeaked as he tried his best not to make a sound, eventually giving up and rushing up the stairs to the dragon's door. The Lava Elemental didn't catch what Stealth Elf did when she pressed her ear into the wood, though he did lean in to try while she held her finger before her lips again. He could almost hear a thud, crash, or scratch on the other side, but it ended as soon as it started and this place tended to make a lot of weird noises after rain or snow.

She blipped away, retrieved her phone from the kitchen counter, and returned to the door in the blink of an eye. The forest green smoke of the first teleport hadn't even dispersed when she reappeared. Her thumb covered the speaker as she typed in her password like a turtle. It visibly hurt her to move so slowly, almost comedic if not for the circumstances, but she got through it like a champ and looked to the door for a split second before she hit the call button on the tab she left off on.

A light jingling hummed through the door. "Spyro?" The elf asked.

There was no answer. "Sy, buddy... We're really sorry about last night, we said a lot of things we didn't mean... We know you've been doing more around the house than we thought and, uh, you probably just don't study at the same time as us." He looked to the elf for something else to say, talking it out was never his strong suit.

She shrugged as they continued to not get a response. "Spyro, can we please talk? We've been worried about you all day." Elfie tried again.

Silence.

They shared another glance, one obviously getting agitated and the other still having no idea if she still wanted to work solo. "Spyro, we're coming in." The latter stated.

Stealth Elf reached for the door handle and clicked it open for just a second. It wasn't long at all, but they caught a glimpse of dozens of claw marks dug deep into the drywall. Some colorful wires had been exposed in one part, the rest were joined by countless strings of shredded curtains, ripped sheets, and torn pillows scattering massive clumps of cut up feathers around the frayed carpet. The dragon's bed was beaten to a splintery pulp and the styrofoam-looking contents of his beanbag were strewn about the entire floor like someone took a chainsaw to it. His closet doors were lying on the ground and his fan had been violently pulled from the ceiling, each of its blades snapped into several sharp slivers stabbed into the carpet like fence posts or wooden stakes. All the lightbulbs were smashed to so many bits that they looked like they were ground to dust, along with all their sockets.

As soon as Elfie pushed the door open that minuscule but devastating crack, a razor-sharp set of claws bashed into it from the other side. The pearly points were nowhere near her face, but the speed and force with which they buried into the door sent her straight into fight-or-flight. Her fang daggers were in her grasp as fast as she jumped out of her skin. The latch of the door clicked shut and a high-pitched sizzling like one of his angry footprints searing the welcome mat cracked and hissed in the center of the dragon's door. Spyro's talons were partially obscured by the mirage-like ripple of intense heat, but they had a clear orange glow like a fireplace before pulling away. His wing's bright orange membrane covered their view through the smoldering holes and a low growl made the whole slab vibrate.

"Didn't know he could do that." Eruptor tried pathetically to break the tension in Stealth Elf's entire body. She didn't even react.

-<🌀>-

"T-The Petrified Darkness shattered. I did what I could to keep it together but every time I-I tried, it just broke until there was nothing left. E-Even the dust turned black a-and vanished when I tried to grab it!"

The Castle's cavernous black walls, spotted with crystals of violet. The stalagmites and stalactites closed in around her like massive jaws. Brown paintings of extremely old, rotten blood covered the damp, uneven walls with primitive art of battles and disasters long forgotten, even to the furthest-reaching libraries and museums. The only constants were one, enormous, many-horned dragon bringing death and destruction to countless and armies of other winged reptiles blasting it with their greatest powers. Blazing heat, pressurized water, roaring winds, frigid ice, blasts of energy, lightning bolts, sprays of corrosive toxins, bursts of gravity, necrotic pulses, and beams of brilliant radiance, all to no avail.

Just behind her was Cynder's only escape, but she'd be a pile of ash if she even stumbled that way. The grand archway was covered in extremely pure, and more importantly magically-conductive, gold plating with spike-like linings that folded along the solid black stone cave leading down a bloody red carpet decorated with black weapons and draconic symbols trailing deep into the central chamber. The swervy bars were covered in jagged spikes long enough to interlock like long teeth and extra daggers pointing in and out, all incredibly solid enchanted iron plated with magic-resistant brass and decorated with diamond-studded gold.

A grand shield in the shape of a dragon skull with six, tall, sleek horns covered the center. Its dead eyes exuded a crimson aura full of all the malice of a vengful spirit. Violet fog speckled with condensed Darkness swirled and rippled outward from its base, flowing between the spiked bars so those intruding could still be impaled on the spines. The same darkness poured from a larger, real dragon skull with purple, cursed flames burning out of its eye sockets and nostrils. The dead dragon who stood against the Dark Master had two large horns that swooped stright out of its head, bent backwards, then curled inwards like flexing talons and two very small ones right beneath them, poking straight out of the sides of its head and only about a quarter of the large horns' size.

The four chains holding it far above a deathly cloud of violet and shadow released by the heart-stopping masses of Petrified Darkness were oiled by dragon blood, an assortment pale red scales forged into the metal with many frills like fins lining the sides. Atop her Father's prized trophy was a series of golden halos connecting all four chains. Countless gems worth more than all the gold she and a thousand Mabu or Trolls would see in their entire lives, all polished to a sparkle, dimmed and swelled in anticipation for her Father's jets of cursed purple flames. A colossal chunk of Petrified Darkness sat in the center with a gold band around it, gem-encrusted and anchoring a set of rigid taxidermy dragon wings with pale red scales and orange membrane to the middle so they flared outside of the chains and grazed the top of the fortified cavern.

"I hand you victory on a platinum platter, and you cannot taint a single INITIATE!?"

The vantablack shadow of a long neck, the tops of armored shoulders, and a head full of many massive horns reared out of the malicious magenta smog of Darkness. Many brambled black plants and dark briars lined the deep opening in the floor the pitifully small outcrop she stood upon teetered over, their purple and pink-tipped thorns glowed but cast no light on the many times scorched black rocks around her Father's resting place. The tallest crystals of Petrified Darkness opened and loomed over the crater like the mouth of a lamprey devouring the dark fruits sprouting from the tips of the twisted foliage.

"H-H-He must have s-some protection a-against-" Cynder begged.

"I care not for your EXCUSES!"

"HE'S EON'S CHILD!" She shrieked as a glowing orb of violet and pink fire grew in his maw, he barely paused for a second. "THE ONLY WAY HE COULD DEFLECT THE DARKNESS IS IF EON PROTECTED HIM FROM IT! A-AND HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT I TRIED TO DO!"

The flames didn't fade in the slightest, just highlighting Malefor's countless massive fangs as his spiky jaw tightened and head tilted in interest.

She never risked keeping him waiting. "H-He has ties to Eon! He has to know w-where the Relic Room is! He trusts m-me!" Cynder shook and screamed. "Just give me another week!" To get Eugenie out of here. "I-I can bring you the map to the Core of Light!" I'm still useful.

Malefor's glaring red eyes locked onto the small dragoness, his snout flared with violet flames and poisonous black smoke as his maw slowly shut and snuffed out the fire. Her entire body deflated for only a second.

"You have one more day. Bring me the map by tomorrow night."

-<🌀>-

Free for the day from the old wizard's nagging and thinly veiled suggestions sent through his Skylanders, the latest being a mace-wielding triceratops with rocky scales and just as little tolerance for his boss's desperate attempts at persuasion, George did his best to bury himself back into the bottomless pit of portal books. His head wasn't spinning as quickly anymore, but a car slowing down didn't mean it was going in reverse. He wished his Dad taught him half as much about this as he did cars. He was trying to do the long-distance calculations, he was trying to hone in on the exact start and end points, he was trying to find the correct midsection, he was trying to fold them like 4-dimensional paper, all he succeeded at was hovering a clump of dirt around his fist.

A light tapping on his little table, right between two of the incredibly tightly packed stacks of tomes thicker than any of his textbooks, shook him from his suffocating reading. The green elf was standing sheepishly before him. Her detailless face didn't appear any more tired than he was, but the way she carried herself was that of someone drained beyond belief like Oscar after an all-nighter. Good grades at the cost of sanity, the ultimate sacrifice for arbitrary numbers that wouldn't follow them out of school. One of her hands draped across her chest and held onto her upper arm as she stood there silently. He couldn't tell what she was looking at or what she wanted, but he could see the slightly different shades of white and extremely light gray shifting as she tried to figure out what to say.

"I... really screwed up." She eventually admitted. "We said some things we didn't mean and I'm not sure how to fix it."

"You don't." George deadpanned.

The way she looked like she'd been slapped almost made up for the horrible first impression. "W-What?" She shook off the initial stun. "You came out of nowhere to lecture Eruptor and eye about how we treat him, you have to have something!"

He shrugged and folded the ear of his book. Everyone knew everyone where he was from. When two people had a grudge, they had a grudge. And when those two going at it were among the only things going on in the entire town, nobody was very keen to try mediating.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Rebuild trust a bit at a time, help him out every once in a while."

She blinked. "That's all you've got?"

"I'm not a life guru." George flicked through his book again.

"Just something, then. There has to be something I can do." She asked.

George hummed. "Give him time, I guess. Both of you cool off and chat tomorrow, talk about what you did wrong, but my Mom's always said the best apology is changed behavior."

-<🌀>-

Eon had been trying to reach out to Spyro since the Portal Masters returned to their desks. Stealth Elf appeared not long after, shared a short conversation with the boy, and vanished almost as quickly, but that was the closest thing he got to a response. The dragon was still within the Academy's grounds, he could feel the Elemental Paragon's powerful presence within the ever-flowing magic surrounding his Castle. The Magic Element was growing rapid and unstable. Crystals were growing out of the concentrated, fluid-like haze of power and shattering like glass in an instant. Even the larger, much more stable growths and swirling wisps of energy were trembling and becoming inconsistent in their arcana output.

It wasn't just Spyro's Element, either. The Tech section had reported several mechanical failures since the Final Trials concluded, even some of the kinetic tools attached to the constantly rotating and clicking network of gears built into their artificial islands were working less effectively, which in turn led to the investigation of the clockwork network being found lacking. Its momentum faded and complex inner workings jammed, both great rarities in isolation and considered nothing less than an omen together. Multiple electrical boxes and delicate motherboards were short-circuiting and lagging. The Water and Air were becoming ever more turbulent and all the Undead, from the martial-focused Students to the magically inclined Skylanders, could feel something was wrong as the lingering spirits waned and bones clattered.

He didn't even need to see the segments recoiling to feel them writhing as if in pain. Eon stroked his beard as he looked out over his little world, unable to find the dragon. He was likely just 'out of bounds' of the Castle, right at home. There was work around the Academy to be done, though, he would check on him another time. Eon may have been finished for the day, but evil never rested and there would be something worth doing if he looked for it. Odds were he just slept through his alarm, anyway, nothing that retaking the year without his teammates wouldn't knock some sense into him. The wizard sighed and summoned his staff, teleporting away to the Tech Elemental section so he could document and try to address the mechanical failures.

They were all minor enough that he could do some light reading when he was finished, just a bunch of small problems piling up that some careful stabilization of the flow of magic would soon rectify and prevent the worsening of. Maybe he could do the same for the Magic section, while he was at it, depending on how much time he had in the day. The Tech Skylanders and Initiates were much more dependent on their islands' unique systems and perpetuating motions to stay operational but the Magic Element was also in need of attention. Spyro may have kept the entire school and his own comrades waiting, but he was still an Aspirant fully capable of taking care of himself until Portal Master had some time.

-<🌀>-

The Dark Portal Master and troll skulked through the darkening foliage and empty streets. Cold settled as the pitiful Mabu retreated to their homes for the night and the filthy, meek, and normal animals began peeking out of their burrows in search of the scraps of food and open garbage bins abandoned to the night. Kaos dragged his favored minion to one of the more isolated and out-of-the-way parts of the quaint town, covered by the dark and the black of his cloak. His sidequest brought them to the foot of a completely destroyed forest island. Black char and gray ash covered every inch of the isle as smoldering woodchips and the burnt shells of crumbling flowers scattered like dust, covering their shoes and smearing along the hem of his robes.

For an island smack in the middle of a pathetic Mabu settlement and right next to a favorite spot of Skylanders' Castle, it reeked with Darkness and black curses. None such spells had been cast here, though, what surrounded them was a bunch of unfocused and swiftly disappearing negative energies no different than the Element being stronger here, just for a short time. Yet something must've caused it, such an amount of Darkness didn't appear from nothing. There had to be something powerful, or at least of use, to create an aura this powerful. He'd seen these woods burst into flames the previous night, but he could also see they were ordinary flames. It was already weird for the moles to clear this island by burning it to the ground, but nothing that would create this power.

"Do I wanna know what we're doing here, sir?" Glumshanks asked while Kaos made binoculars out of his hands.

A violet mist settled over his vision, piercing through the dark and highlighting their surroundings in a twisted purple film. "Your guess is as good as mine." He mumbled, following the flow of Dark magic to a small pile of soot and a devastated stump.

He leaned down to the pile and rubbed a hand through it in curiosity. The troll leaned over his shoulder as Kaos brushed away the ash. Pointy charred twigs and seared flower petals flung away from his fingers and plumes of smoke filled the air like clouds of sand until, tucked into the soil and bursting with the vigor of freedom, two pieces of Petrified Darkness revealed themselves. They were very well polished and highly energized, far greater than what his Dark creation was capable of growing, and left lying around. Both were clearly meant to be connected, he didn't even have to rotate any of them to figure out what directions they needed to face to come back together. Someone was in a rush to weaken and hide these, but it was nothing an extra spark of Darkness couldn't mend.

The restored crystal wasn't carved into any design he was familiar with, just two sharp points and a cross of pyramids around the middle. It exuded a pungent smog in joy as the cracks mended and light was gone, a high-quality smoke that swirled about his grasp and swelled with vile magic far greater than what he would expect from a crystal of such diminutive size. Perhaps it was once part of a dragon's horde? Or charged by another great mage? The only Dark beings of the sort that Kaos was aware of would be that annoyingly self-idolizing ancient dragon and his own Mother.

"What're the odds it appears naturally?" Glumshanks popped his back as he stepped away from the abhorrent miasma.

"None." Kaos growled with a toothy smile.

"So someone was here before us." The troll stated.

The Dark Portal Master cackled. "Someone with no idea what they're doing, and who just handed out victory without me even asking."

-<🌀>-

What time is it?

The thick fog around Spyro's mind had only worsened throughout the day. Time went by too fast, yet dragged to a crawl whenever he was snapped to attention by nothing in particular. Sometimes it was a chill down his spine, others it was the spark of one of the electrical appliances he'd flayed like the metals and plastics and rubber were flimsier than paper. None of the lucidity lasted long. A couple times, the Portal Master's voice echoed in his mind, but he never caught what Eon was saying.

Oddly, he didn't hear, see, or even feel anything. There was nothing left to rip into or shatter, all the emotion just fell apart through his talons like fine sand. The frayed carpet was pinned under his scales and the light draft through the vent cooled his wing membrane, yet he stayed numb and dead like his body was miles away. He couldn't see what was right in front of him. Which wall did he finally collapse in front of? He couldn't hear or smell or feel, everything was so far away as he tensed and strained to move something.

Spyro was pretty sure there were some shards of glass and bundles of wiring caught in his talons. In the few moments of coming to life, at least. He imagined them to be stripped and cut, but he probably couldn't even do that right, in his state. A sensation like soft pins and needles through his scales coated his tail. Was it the styrofoam guts of his gaming beanbag? Or was it just more numbness? The dragon didn't remember if he cut it open or threw it against the closet door, maybe both. The same went for the contents of his closet, the spare blankets and boxes of potions. They would've stained the carpet beyond repair by now. Now he had an excuse to pull up the carpet, Spyro guessed, but his body didn't move an inch.

He blinked and sighed, the most he'd brought himself to do since slamming the door on Elfie. None of the deep claw marks in his wall were symmetrical or consistent. They were all ugly and dark, being different depths and lengths. Not all of them gashed open support beams or pulled out vital wiring. His curtains and sheets were a mess, the metal rods and mattress were bent and slashed out of shape. Half of the springs were snapped off of the internal framework, falling at the foot of his round bedframe by the same motion that split the wood down the middle like karate chopping a stack of bricks. Though he'd probably just hit them wrong and watch his wrist fall limply and bleeding off the side like the feathers of his butchered pillows.

Serves you right, failure. Spyro exhaled a puff of gray smoke, far from the clean and flawless huffs of bright white, like he was watching someone else's breath float away in the cold. His heavy eyes fluttered shut again and his wing clumsily flopped down on his side. He still couldn't move around his tail or claws, they were heavy like his scales were lead and blood was slime. What was he going to do today (tonight?), get up? Do something? Fetch one of the mending scrolls from under his bed and clean up this hurricane of a nest he'd created for himself like he was some Skylander worthy of the time and pristine space? What about tomorrow?

Not like he needed to get himself together for Eon to scribe him into the Book of Skylanders-

"Spyro?" Stealth Elf knocked. "We're... getting ready for graduation."

His eyes flickered open. Artiday already? How long had he been on the floor? Did he sleep? He didn't think so, finding it hard to believe he managed so much as a wink like this. Did Eon even stop by? Did he even care enough to see what was wrong? Or why he was missing? Had he not even bothered to make sure he got home? The notion alone almost got another deranged howl to burst from his throat, but he'd already given his all for years.

The ninja, now a Skylander, remained on the other side with the charred holes in the door right in front of her face, but not looking through them. She wasn't sure she was ready to, with the small glimpse she and the Eruptor got the day before. Her hair was still damp out of the shower, she'd draped it over her shoulder so it didn't drag behind her. Warm water dripped down her tunic and skirt, being shaken off as she fumbled for what to say. The withdrawn and sentient tree-sheltered elf had never been a wordsmith, not unless her forehead thudding cluelessly against the blank white door counted as her hammer and anvil. She wished Advanced English was that easy.

"You're still there, right?" Elfie asked through the panel, finally chancing a peek through the door but finding the angle was off.

He didn't respond. Spyro didn't have the energy to shake his claws, let alone speak.

"I... Eruptor and I are sorry about what we said." She inhaled as he barely managed to lift his head. "You always make everything look so easy... We were just tired a-and angry, but you looked so relaxed and I-I-I, we took it out on you. I swear it'll never happen again. " She promised.

Her long ears perked up as some light and careful footsteps unevenly slid over the carpet on the other side, the one not covered by her hair much more successfully than the other. She still couldn't see him through the holes in the door but the sound of something, probably a box, being dragged. Some rustling papers followed. Other than catching some glances of purple scales and amber highlights, she couldn't tell what he was doing, but at least he was here.

"You do train, you do study, you do work hard." The elf listed.

His heart fluttered, his breath caught in his chest, and the scales about his cheeks flushed with pink energy and warmth. He debated staying still and silent so she would continue as the pink hue crawled down his plating and hummed along and down his shoulders. Didn't know I could do that...

"...I'm sorry I said you two were only here because of me." Spyro swallowed and croaked. Letting the weight off gave him enough leeway to lean against the door with a thunk. "We wouldn't have been on a team if you weren't already good enough to be Neophytes. I wasn't doing great that day, either." He tried to chuckle. All he got was a cough.

"Thank you for keeping the house together." She whispered. He flinched behind his cover like he was about to be stabbed. "And stocking the fridge... and for the gifts. I wasn't sure how I felt about the other day, I haven't opened mine, but Eruptor says his is perfect."

Perfect.

Eruptor loved it!

"Thank you for letting us vent." She continued.

"Thank you for putting up with me." Spyro answered.

She choked something like a giggle, able to hear the inappropriately unserious smirk on his face. If only she knew. "...Can we... Still be a team after all this?" Elfie asked as if he was a Skylander.

He shrugged like she was facing him. "C'mon, what team hasn't wanted to strangle each other?"

...

"...'m sorry, that wasn't funny." He shrunk.

"Can you please just open the door? Just let us know you're okay."

They paused. More paper rustling sounded before the dim flash of a basic illusion spell washed over the dragon's violet scales. Expensive it might've been, but the scrolls were quick and conveient. He could put his makeup on later. The terrible, thin, and faint marks on his scales vanished and his eyebags smoothed over. It wouldn't hold up well against being touched, but none of them were touchy people.

Elfie took a breath and stepped away from the door as the dragon's spinal ridges and scales clicked against the wood. She could hear his breathing shake and choke a solid minute before the door handle jostled. It squeaked down and back up a few times until the internals clicked and the slab pulled away. A smile was on his face, but even the forest elf could see it didn't reach his amber eyes and pinkish, bloody sclera. His room in the background looked like a mix of an earthquake, hurricane, volcano, and rogue wave had come through. All he was missing was a bunch of water damage and the roof to cave in.

"Need your hair done?" He offered like nothing was amiss, Elfie eventually nodded.

Chapter Text

Eruptor remained in the kitchen while they wrestled with Stealth Elf's hair. She could feel Spyro's talons heating on and off as they ran through her hair, sometimes being too hot for her or barely noticeable. A cool trick, if not one he had consistent control of. It was nice, she'd never even considered wasting gold on a flat iron. Light steam wafted off her hair as he combed it out with his talons and carefully braided it like he was handling molten glass with his bare paws. His tail tapped up and down on the living room floor as he idly toyed with the simple black hair tie pulled over the segmented tip.

"When did you figure it out?" She asked about his claws.

"Just the other night. I'm still working on it." Her hair raised and tugged as he shrugged and adjusted the tight braid. He repeatedly refastened the strands so they were disgustingly symmetrical and securely tucked together. He left her fringe alone but allowed some small tufts of hair to flow relatively freely; two were tucked behind her ears and lightly curled forward along her cheeks and jawline after the dragon spun them around a pearly claw, and one very long streak was poking out from the rest and draping along the top of her braid after he heat-straightened it.

"I think you could rock dyeing this." Spyro gently flicked the one stray lock of hair.

It dangled in front of her face like it was hanging from a string or spring. The dragon snorted a dark gray cloud in amusement as she tossed it back at his snout. "Maybe another time." She smiled.

Another quiet moment passed as they waited for the other to say something. Was the other still mad at them? Were they being annoying? Had they said something wrong? "Have you tried working with longswords, yet?" Spyro asked innocently.

Her shoulders tightened and sagged. "I haven't really touched them since I... since I tried to train with Sensei Ambush." Stealth Elf confessed and tapped her criss-crossed legs on the shins.

"I-I can-" Spyro started excitedly, letting her feel the gust of air pressure from his claws animatedly expressing and his grip on her hair slipping, then going quieter than his voice. A mixed rush of pink, purple, and yellow flashed dimly beneath his scales.

"You can what?" She asked, trying and failing to look him in the eye through the reflection of a picture frame holding a snap of her first 'birthday' after he was bedridden sick, but still searching what type of cake to get (Eruptor to make) her.

"Nevermind, it's nothing." He almost answered before she could finish.

Elfie tried to turn to him without yanking her unfinished hair out of his talons. It didn't work. "It didn't sound like nothing."

Spyro audibly swallowed and regained his hold on her hair. "...I c-could try helping you out with larger weapons. Swords... Maybe some battle axes... please ask about Greatswords."

Her ears tilted. "Greatswords?"

The reflection of his wings lifted. "Yeah!"

Stealth Elf hummed and thought for a moment, jostling her head up as Spyro tugged the black hair tie off the tip of his tail. "When you got the Elite training regimen, wasn't Chop Chop the one who gave it to you?"

"Yes?" He answered tentatively as he clasped the end of her braid and ran his heated claws through the puff at the very end, then started spinning it to finish the coiled hair.

"And doesn't he have a giant sword-"

"OKAYlookslikeyourhair'sdonewouldn'twannamissyourbigdaybettergettothearenaI'llseeyatheregoodluckIbelieveinyou!" Spyro hastily but effectively fastened the end of her braid and flared his wings. He almost flung himself into a wall on his way to the shower and his secret makeup kit. She managed a genuine giggle for the first time all week as Eruptor stifled a deep laugh like bubbling lava.

-<🌀>-

George's knuckles popped and neck ached as he put on the uniform the wizard provided. He'd barely put a dent in the pile of portal books on his tiny desk tucked into the corner of Eon's big office. He still had no idea what the crystals along the walls were for or a fraction of what secrets the countless crooked bookshelves reaching the ceiling and the rolled-up scrolls tucked into the gaps were hiding. Everything from the carpet covering the giant gem built into the spiral staircase beneath to the peak of the cone-shaped roof of blue shingles was as earthly as his home, yet made alien; all normal and mostly rational save for the overwhelming presence of magic he could distantly feel on the tips of his fingers like dipping them into falling sand, but turned alien. And he was just another comparitively delicate Human in over his head. Not that he signed up for any of this.

"Is everything sorted?" Eon asked from his desk while scribbling down nothing in particular and briefly glancing at the time.

"Ready as I'll ever be." He remarked and stretched.

"There are only two graduates, it won't take long at all." The old man smiled as a surge of cyan and bright white light and a cloud of glowing orange sand mixed with boulders summoned from nothing collected around them.

The crowd was as big as it was the last time they were here, he even spotted the same elderly biclops in the same front-row spot, standing out against the Initiates and curious Mabu like a sore thumb. Everyone was a lot quieter than yesterday, Oxyday, as well. At long last, he could see Spyro in the distance. Just before the walking volcano and ninja elf entered the colosseum, the dragon met with them with a bright smile. The three of them chatted and hugged, the golem more than the dragon and much more than the elf, but they were functional. His amber wings flapping echoed through the small archway path just before the sandy ring as the two new Skylanders walked through.

A familiar tremor shook his footing as the crowd cheered anew. Eon gripped the sides of his podium for stability while Barbella steadied herself with the end of her stone weight, Terrafin slightly outstretched his brass knuckled-fists like a surfer keeping balance, and the blue and brass hoplite off to the side didn't even move an inch. The lava man waved one of his yellow blobs to the rows of seats with a smile while Stealth Elf's expression stayed stern and indifferent the whole walk. If she felt anything about however many years of training and education she'd gone through to get here, then it didn't even make her brow twitch. She held it together better than any of the graduates from his school.

Both now joined the Earth Skylanders, the Mabu, the Portal Masters, and the knight off to the side of the raised platform. The elf's hands were behind her back like a soldier at attention while the golem's blobs were held casually at his sides. Warm light glazed over their faces as the wizard proudly and intently looked over them, then turned back to the crowd.

"Citizens of Skylands! It is my great pleasure to welcome you!" He greeted and the crowd roared, save for the old biclops, who got up and walked out.

-<🌀>-

I should've been up there.

Spyro's jaw clenched and wings clenched, his talons burrowed into the stone like it was made of butter, a freezing cold vine covered in thorns and sharpened icicles slithered around his heart like a centipede, fire grew in his throat, and a light breeze ruffled his frill while he tucked himself against a wall in the middle of an otherwise clear day. His wings were shaking like his bones were slowly cracking open and his tail flicked in obvious agitation. None of his scales were his yet they froze him solid and burned him from the inside out.

"Spyro?"

He jumped out of his hide and turned his eyes to Miss Vanir. She adjusted her watch as she approached. Spyro tried to take a step back, barely noticing the way his legs repeatedly scraped against the rough brick like he was rubbing against sandpaper, but he hit the rear wall too fast. Dark smoke plumed out of his nostrils and the gaps in his fangs.

The old lawyer patiently held her hands over her dress while looking down at the dragon. "I had a feelin' you were around. The town's been worried about you."

The dragon paused and regained some control over his breathing, if only by way of shock like turning a computer off and on again. "T-That's it?"

"Why else would we be looking for you?" She chuckled and put her hands on her hips. "Damn near the whole office was calling me about you lookin' like you were about to keel over before me!"

"Sorry." He curled in on himself.

"Now, now, none of that." Miss Vanir waved him off and stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "We were worried about you, hun." Her voice went soft and gentle like wind chimes. "Everyone had you show up on their doorstep for work into the dark, nobody saw you go home, then we wake up to an island burning to the ground! If something's wrong, just stop by and we can find something to take your mind off of it for a while... And so my firm can paoch you right from under that old coot's big nose!"

Spyro's high-pitched giggle echoed through the entry chamber. Thankfully, she didn't comment on it and nobody was around to hear it. He started to relax and allowed himself to inch away from the wall. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He wasn't going to be a Skylander and there was no way Eon would reconsider keeping him over George, not unless something happened between them or the boy went and stayed home. Maybe his little idea of his very own house next to a nice lake, a good distance from the town, and all to himself wasn't that far-fetched. Gathering the wood and metals would take some time while figuring out the foundation situation would require some help, but the rest was within his skillset. He could take apart and put things together as he wished, try spending some time at the law firm, and waste all his free time on brewing overly complex potions or writing scrolls.

And all would just be the fun of it. He could sleep in on weekends or when he was sick without a Lava Elemental's heavy footsteps shaking the whole house, he could spend some time on himself without an elf cracking down on their hardly broken training schedule, he'd only have to look through a few specific law books before he could read for his own entertainment, he might even have the time and energy to start playing video games again. The big question would be how to get the Portal Master out of his frill, he was still far from willing to deal with Eon and the new apple of his eye.

"...I'll think about it." He relented.

"Well, that was quick." A soft but raspy voice snarked.

They turned to see Cynder perched on the bladed chrome tips of her wings with that same smug smirk painted across her obsidian face.

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy..." He droned with no explanation for why he wasn't at the foot of Eon's podium.

She crept forward on all fours and nudged his head up with a light bonk. Her horns slid along his throat and shoulders like a nuzzling cat, bringing feeling back to his scales with their metallic chill. If she gave the biclops any kind of acknowledgement, he lost it in the rush of heat and pink sparks about his cheeks and down his shoulders. Why did she have to be so touchy!? Why couldn't he at least decide if he hated it or not? Unfortunately for him, Miss Vanir didn't miss the way his shoulder lit up behind the thick layer of makeup smeared over his face and would not be letting him off the hook as the dragoness grinned and retreated, knowing full well what she'd done.

-<🌀>-

As the one Elemental Paragon was confirmed to be out of the other's way for the duration of her last-ditch appearance at the Skylanders' Castle's doorstep, a rift in reality slowly but surely took shape in the back of the arena. The isolated spot had to be out of the way, extremely precise, and the swelling energy wouldn't go unnoticed. Kaos had to keep a very close eye on the other side of the developing connection, going as far as to cancel the spell whenever he couldn't trace a sound on the other side. It was only required once as one of the Fire Trap Masters hauled a crystalline cannon around the perimeter, but no small detail would go unnoticed for the sake of his big break.

The Core of Light was finally within his grasp, he just needed that wreched barbarian out of the way so he could complete his portal. His own piece of Petrified Darkness, though not as well cut and pure as the shard he'd discovered and carefully kept hidden in case of emergency, oozed power as fog and violet energy into the portal as the spell rebounded and swirled between the many strategically placed wards. He'd long ago discovered the problem with making so many layers of magical security when making his lair; leaving so many disconnected shields left a lot of tiny gaps some experience and practice could eventually weave through like a needle through thread.

Eon hadn't dealt with another Portal Master in a long time, Kaos needed to keep a judgy Mother who only showed up to look down on his lacking successes out of his keep. That old man was doomed from the start. He smiled as tainted pinkish magenta light filtered through the swirling purple and black mist, enveloping him and the gangly troll. The funnel tightened around them, rippling the fabric of reality and flow of magic through the Skylands as he mentally stabbed into the core of the arcane drill. Glumshanks stumbled and swayed, still a common occurrence for how seldom he was brought through the Dark Portal Master's spells. Whether the troll earned an extended break from his schemes or would be repeatedly teleported to get used to it would be decided when they escaped with the map in tow.

"Lay low, for now, I'm going to wait for an opening." He ordered while checking their surroundings. Kaos might've spotted exactly where he'd set down this portal the night prior, but he'd never been here in person and lacked familiarity with the wannabe Skylosers' routines.

"And now, I shall begin sketching our newest members into the book of Skylanders!" The ancient wizard announced.

"Why don't you just steal the book now so we can get out of here?" Glumshanks whispered while trying to tuck into some decorative plants.

Kaos began covering himself in more smog. "We have to wait until all of the Skylanders are drawn so I can destroy every one of them."

His fingertips darkened, spreading down his arms as his sleeves, the bottom of his robes, and his hood levitated and evaporated. Shadows crawled and washed up the side of the arena wall. The Mabu and patrolling Skylanders were none the wiser as he slipped right beneath their pathetic little scrying runes and between their cameras, like nobody but himself could. Rising streaks like horns, funnels, and smokestacks wafted above the puddle of Darkness as the blob bloated and lifted over the edge of the very top. From behind the protective sigils, he could warp right onto the stage as soon as the time was right. Until then, a pair of angry purple eyes cast rays of concentrated malice into the top of Eon's helmet.

-<🌀>-

The biclops lady returned to her seat, having finished catching up with the purple dragon who stood at the edge of the arena entrance. Eruptor and Stealth Elf had their heads bowed as the wizard produced a white and pale blue quill with a golden cone at the pen part. One hand holding it like a normal pencil and a part of his beard wrapping around it like a coil, he made many slow, calculated, and smooth strokes across the aged pages.

White magic poured from the ink, flashing all colors and rising off the page like ghastly ribbons as the old man worked. The new Skylanders' eyes barely peeked open, but not at their Portal Master. He couldn't really tell with Stealth Elf, but Eruptor's eyes were normal enough that George could see him peering at Spyro. His wings propped him upright and his claws curled into a thumbs-up as his sharp teeth were bared into a wide smile. They grinned back and straightened their stance, shutting their eyes. But George could see the tension in his scaly shoulders and the way his wings folded upwards to poorly wrap around him like he was hugging himself. Oscar and Mom did the same thing when they were nervous. Although the dragon was better at keeping a straight face, he'd give him that.

Spyro flinched, visibly took a very deep breath, and turned back for the exit. Master Eon was the first whom the streaks of bright white magic reached. They collected around his arms like a bunch of small snakes and slid up his beard, all turning cyan before they curled tighter and reached for the ninja.

"Do you swear, as a Skylander of the Element of Substance, of the Life Element, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin?" Eon asked.

The elf didn't hesitate. "I swear." The magical streamers zipped straight to her chest. She winced for a second as the lines pierced her flimsy leather tunic and spread over her skin, connecting her freckles like dots and reaching between her muscles. They outlined her veins and nerves, made spirals around her upper arms and thighs, coiled around her forelimbs, and latched onto her bones.

"Do you swear, as a Skylander from the deepest and most unforgiving forests, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin? Eon's quill scratched and sang innocently like a windchime.

"I swear." Stealth Elf growled through her teeth. The glow of the patterns intensified and sank into her flesh like tattoos. They could see the deep green and pale lime hue color in her lungs, flow with her shaking breathing, then move on to her heart and pump through her blood. Her breathing slowly evened out as a ring of green light and scattering leaves spun at her feet and before the wizard's tome.

"Do you swear, as a Skylander who has given every day to her Sensei and to nature, to do good by your brothers and sisters in arms, by the Skylands and those you shall protect until the bitter end, and to stand for what is right no matter the adversity?" Eon finished.

"I swear." She chanted with conviction. The shaky breaths turned smooth and fluid, natural, as the lights around her green skin solidified like cooling metal. They sprouted details like thorns and small leaves as the green strigs retreated, dragging leaves and green aether with them into the book. While the lines over her skin became steady and constant as if they were part of her, permanently-stained bodypaint, the rest danced and flared into the book like lineart about Eon's drawing. The circle of Life energy in front of his face flashed with the familiar green plant icon. Its three leaf symbols shook with power as the outline flashed foliage like clovers.

Eon turned to the other page and the Life Emblem faded. The strings slowly turned bright red and tightened like a scorpion's tail again. Do you swear, as a Skylander of the Element of Passion, of the Fire Element, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin?"

"I swear." Eruptor answered and steeled himself before the lines of magic struck, decorating his shell with scratches along the heated rock and rivers along the spewing lava.

"Do you swear, as a Skylander from the mightiest of volcanos and the hottest lakes of lava, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin?"

"I swear." Eruptor shook and clenched his jaw as steam wafted off the spikes on top of him. Instead of covering any organ with the flow of air and blood, the streaks of magic flowed up and down with the convection of his molten body. It was much denser closer to his three spikes, the bottoms of his feet, and the ends of his blobby arms, but his combined torso and face were far from empty with the heating and rising and cooling and falling thermal energies. A pair of rings of bright flames and disappearing puffs of black smoke encircled the golem and hovered above the book.

"Do you swear, as a Skylander of who has given every day to the Academy and the world beyond the confines of your birthplace, to do good by your brothers and sisters in arms, by the Skylands and those you shall protect until the bitter end, and to stand for what is right no matter the adversity?"

"I swear." The lines about his body deformed and warped, becoming small yet raging flames as the rest severed from the golem, resting upon the drawing.

The crowd was cheering before Eon was finished. "And with that final stroke, the Skylanders welcome their newest members: Eruptor the Lava Elemental, and Stealth Elf the Forest Elf!"

WAITHE'SBEENANELEMENTALTHINGTHISWHOLETIME!? George, the Earth Skylanders, and the Death Knight joined the raging applause.

Eon slammed the tome shut and turned to his assistant. "Hugo, return this to the vault." He handed off the book.

"Yes, sir!" He smiled and clutched it to his chest protectively before running off.

-<🌀>-

The Portal Master turned his back for only a second, most likely to address the new Skylosers, but it was a second he could use. While the two Earth Skylanders, the Elite, and the strange boy beside him walked up to the new graduates, the stubby Mabu wandered away from the stage. He was going toward the big red bodyguard who almost found his initial rift. The black and purple Darkness condensed about his body and reality trembled in the palm of one hand and cursed flames burned in the other. Violet energy wrapped around Kaos's fingers and spread over the ground.

In a burst of Dark magic, he ascended to the Skylands in a flash of sickening magenta light, then vanished. After a split second, he crashed back down between the Fire Trap Master and Eon's assistant. The energy sparked and seared the concrete stage. The force of a Portal Master performing a warp, be it on themselves or their pawns, was nothing to scoff at, especially not within ten feet of the landing site, but he wouldn't allow them a bit of reprieve. Clouds of Darkness wafted over his point A onto the crowd of onlookers, his point B was no different.

Both the brick wall of a Skylander and the small mole were flung back, the former off the stage and the latter to Eon's feet. Kaos blasted his prepared flame into the Book of Skylands as it flew out of the Mabu's grasp. Eon and the young man beside him started turning around by the time he launched the fire. 'Stealth Elf' and Chop Chop rushed forward the fastest. She was faster than the ancient Arkeyan, but only barely, and he had his turtleish brass chainmail active. The metal flashed with dim grayish light and magic as it disappeared ring by ring, shedding the enchantment that sacrificed speed for defense and magic resistance while his spiky shield shifted to the image of a seething horned skull with burning eyes.

His fires were already heading for the tome, the purple plasma burst faster than either of them and enveloped the dragon-leather-bound pages. The gold caps on the corners glowed with heat and the binding flew open with the rush of air. Cursed flames burned freezing cold as they blasted apart and over every individual piece of parchment. His victory was so close! His worst enemies were so close to finally burning to a crisp no matter where they were in the entirety of the Skylands, from the sparkly-eyed newcomers and timid Mabu desperately trying to stop him or protect his fluffy face to the Nightmare Dragons and Dreamweavers dwelling in other planes.

The Human's eyes were shrunken like pins and his hand flew forward in desperation, as if he could do anything to protect the defenseless mole from the violet fire. And yet, just before his fur was singed and flesh was charred down to the bone, a golden-amber dome suddenly took form. It shimmered like staring up at the surface of an orange ocean as bright white light shone overhead and rippled as the fire impacted with great force. Spectral dirt and twinkling sand swirled around the boy's knuckles and slugged small brown pebbles across the stage like his entire body was a slingshot. Gravel wafted out from under his sleeves and his eyes flashed golden with sparks of energy crackling between the manifesting sand, scattering flugerite and threads of steel.

Kaos's flames were far too powerful for the measly barrier, the knight bashed his shield against the rush and the ninja flipped over the sparks as it shattered. However, the newcomer's meek magic hissed and went wild. Rays of light beamed into the Mabu and Skylanders, exploding out of his core and eyes and hands. The magic ran all along their bodies, snugly hugging them like a film with the strength of steel, arcane shields and armor against the violet fire. It was just enough for the Mabu to get out unscathed, even the caster looked like he had no idea what happened.

The Book of Skylanders, despite being the target as the center of the attack, was completely unscathed as if the fires of Darkness and Undead were nothing more than a chilly but shining morning. He should've known the tome wouldn't be burned so easily, but this might've been his only opportunity. Kaos had a plan B; bring it back to his lair and destroy it properly from the comfort and controlled, focused confines of his own couch, but his current unique circumstances didn't allow that.

He got a break in the form of Eon's weakness of caring. His Skylanders were fighting for their lives, the elf was just a little further away from the frigid inferno than the knight, and his slowing armor was still chipping away from his titanium bones, but the Portal Master stopped to send the Mabu flying away from the conflict in a burst of light. He didn't get to see where the quick warp-dash's return beam sent the assistant, but Kaos and Glumshanks could hunt him down for his knowledge of the Skylanders' Castle's inner workings and lesser secrets after they looted the treasury. Eon's split second choice between counter attacking and saving the Mabu would be his downfall.

Time for plan C.

"ᛁᚾᚠᚢᚱᛏ᛫ᛖᛚᛖᛗᛖᚾᛏᛋ!" Kaos chanted over the roar of flames.

The newbie and Elite froze before his eyes, dire wolf-teeth and gauntlets stopping right before his face. Something impacted the Earth Mage directly in the chest, sending him stumbling back as the Portal Master's attempt at a strike was stopped in his tracks. The Lava Elemental lifted a limb, but he was seized in the middle of a fireball attack. Both of the Earth Skylanders were put in their places with their spiked fists and stone barbell held reeling back to rush him.

His cold, cursed, Dark flames slowed and stopped, turning to ice around the Book of Skylands. The bodyguard behind him was stuck to the ground and the Skylanders patrolling the coliseum seats were pinned in place like statues as glaciers erupted all across the Skylands. Twisted, light purple frost surged over their bodies. The colorful lines all over the Skylanders' bodies reappeared and faintly shone through the fire-shaped icicles. Green leaves and thorns around the elf's body turned black through the glacier's purple filter, the orange lines of sand dunes and small mountains around the Earth Skylanders turned reddish through the cold cages, the red fires remained but stayed just as motionless on the bodies of the Fire Skylanders, and the Elite's gray spine and skull decorations and Eon's pure white sparks like rays appeared lavender.

Between him and the lone, out-of-his-league spellcaster stood a grand attestament of pinkish-purple ice rooting any and all Skylanders across reality right where they stood. Though not reduced to ash, the book was clasped firmly in the frozen flames' sharp talons. Though it would take more time than he would've liked to find a way to destroy it for good and he still needed to find the map to the Core of Light, Kaos had won.

Chapter Text

He wasn't what he did or why magic suddenly clicked now, but George wasn't complaining. All he saw was a flash of purple light, a roar like thunder, a toxic cloud approaching the Mabu like a gas attack, and a surge of plasma rushing for both the mole and book. Stealth Elf and the Death Knight were first to act, sprinting past him and Eon before they could even act. The ninja bounded over flames and the knight's armor and shield flashed light and dark grays like thick fog as he charged directly right into the newborn Sun.

But all George saw was Hugo.

All he saw was the flames rushing over him. All he saw was a deafening inferno blasting forth at an unusual, yes, but simple office assistant who didn't sign up for any of this. All he saw was the mole whose whole job as of yet had been sorting and signing papers, not fighting the 'Dark Master' or 'Kaossandra' like the Skylanders whose skin and magma flared with Elemental magic. Heck, this was the only time he'd seen Hugo doing anything that remotely concerned the source of the sudden artillery strike.

He was innocent!

So George flung out his hand, as if reaching for the Mabu would magically save him from the violent violet tempest. The air grew cold and time slowed, yet the flames burned on, striking at Hugo's paws. The ground beneath George's feet wasn't that of the concrete stage or wizard's levitating podium, but that of the forestry right outside his home. He could feel the grass poking his feet as he chased Maria through the yard, the Sun wasn't shining down on his face but he could feel the soil getting stuck in his hair as he stumbled and slid to kick the ball away from the goal in soccer, he could feel his Mom and Dad watching him with bated breath as he won them the game.

He could feel the soil tremble and still like the planet was holding its breath. Though there was no pain, he could feel the insurmountable pressure as all went deeper and deeper. The heat of molten rock protected him from the unnaturally cold flames shooting through the Skylanders and mole. He could feel how it all stopped, held still as all the pressure of the outer core and ever-shifting mantle held the inner core in place. The impossibly dense, crushed from all sides, superheated yet forced to be solid metal was his heart, the deepest dirt was his skin, and the magma bubbling up to the ring of fire was his blood as it pumped through his body, down his arm, to his fingertips.

Shield of Terra

Though the shield cracked under the fire's weight and shattered to a million pieces within seconds of its creation, it gave Eon time to send the Mabu away as George's magic went wild. The spell's target was gone but the will to protect above all else remained, latching onto anything and everything it could. Stealth Elf and the Knight's symbols flashed as the arcane film coated them and bubbled like shielding orbs, spectral armor crawled over George's skin as the attacker chanted, but all the barrier did was nothing as the twisted and freezing magenta fire steamed and stopped as it turned to ice.

In the blink of an eye, the navy blue knight let go of his giant sword, reached into his cape, grabbed something from within, and threw it violently right into George's chest before the weapon hit the ground. Recollecting the sword mid-air did nothing, he and the ninja were sealed seamlessly into a frozen coffin. The fire reached and ended before the boy's boots, shards of unnaturally crystalline-clear ice glossing over his head like the bloody jaws of a starved bloodhound. His new shoes made cracks in the frost as he kicked out from under them, but not one of his jabs or hooks snapped the ice any further.

Whatever the knight had passed him glowed with orange light that refracted off the sand and pebbles. A small ring, not much bigger than the palm of his hand, covered in glowing symbols from the portal books and other, more complicated etchings he didn't recognise. The center glowed and swirled with colorful energy like the many platinum-lined oval vents along the side. Not knowing what the heavily armored Skylander wanted from him, George protectively stuffed the artifact in his pocket before anyone could see it.

Barbella and Terrafin stood right beside him, the lines on their skin still glowing dimly and reddish through their prisons, as did Eruptor's. The end of his lava arms and the three spikes atop his head became foggy white as he tried to burn through the ice to no avail. An obnoxious cackle that soared above the arena full of screaming Mabu and trapped Skylanders made the ice disappear, stopping at the Book of Skylanders. The two who'd been with him since he arrived lifted into the air with their captured comrades as a dark purple and black smoke swirled around the tome, slowly bringing it into the hands of another humanoid.

He was just over half George's size, bald with an odd symbol on his head. Black robes fluttered and swished as black and purple magic coiled and swelled, his surprisingly small stature overflowing with power beyond comprehension. His mouth was curled into a disgusting smile full of pointed teeth as he clutched the book, letting the awful aura dissipate and the Skylanders fall to the ground with graceless thuds. Yet the stained-glass containing them didn't even crack, only reshape and smooth itself out as the short mage smoothed out the frozen edges on the Book.

"Finally." He growled.

"Lord Kaos! You missed one!" A tall and skinny green goblin-thing ran in from the archway entrance.

George's eyes snapped back down to 'Kaos' as he glanced at the goblin, blinked blankly, and brushed off his achievement long enough to notice him. "Oh." His eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers.

Not having a whole lot else up his sleeve, besides a glittery shield he had no idea how he made, he rushed in to clock Kaos across his jaw before the floor was ripped out from under him. He was flying over some panicking Mabu when a deep purple ring spat him out at the top of the arena's seats. The cyan alligator was frozen solid with several blue lines decorated in waves and snowflakes that appeared purple through the ice as he careened down the stone seats. No matter how hard his arms and skull and spine bashed against and rolled down the rocks and fleeing civilians, no matter how far he fell, his vision would just flicker with the golden shimmer of his shield and he'd bounced off as if the sandstone was no tougher than his little sister flinging a pillow at his head.

He caught onto the bottom of one seat and whiplashed the rest of his body to the ground, but it felt no different than jumping on his bed as gold ripples swam up his shins and gut. The biclops lady was rushing clumsily up the seats, scrambling for the top of the seats while everyone else fled the (apparent) Portal Master's deranged laughter out the archway. That cloud of dark fog curled and sept down from the top of the arena. There were still people caught in it, the skunk-like Life Skylander was protected by her icy shell but the large old lady was the only one reaching through the fog for the Mabu left behind.

George had to join her, he could figure out the Kaos problem when they were somewhere safe.

-<🌀>-

Why am I still shaking?

His wings were practically vibrating and his legs trembled with every step. Some Mabu were wandering right by him, some who worked for Miss Vanir stopped to ask Spyro how he was holding up, though he didn't really hear them when he politely brushed them off and continued wandering. He knew the second the far-away word spilled from his distant mouth that they wouldn't believe him at all, but they didn't press. Food carts and reporters were lining up for the graduation festivities, waiting for the two new Skylanders to appear. Even some paparazzi were (poorly) subtly fishing their camera equipment out of their coats, waiting for their big shot.

This was alright, though. It was fine that he wouldn't get discounts at any stores or restaurants, that was shallow and he'd replenished his savings the other night. It was fine that none of the cameras would be pointed at him and none of the reporters would be asking him questions, they were annoying just to look at. Spyro was fine. Just be happy for Eruptor. Just be happy for Elfie. Just be happy.

The continuous shaking was still weird, though. It got hard to stay still and he couldn't think of why it was happening. He wasn't a Skylander yet, so it was unlikely someone put a curse on him, even if the Academy wasn't so incredibly secure. But he didn't feel tired, either. Granted, the dragon couldn't feel much of anything. The cobblestone and dirt under his paws was there, he knew when his claws made contact, but the whole world had that 'watching from afar' sensation again. If the absence of him could be an experienced 'sensation,' anyway. Maybe he ate or drank something off? What was the last thing he had? Earlier, he had some of Eruptor's eggs...

Magiday...

Five days.

He hadn't eaten anything all week.

No wonder he was trembling.

The ground started doing the same as a huge swarm of Mabu came running out of the stadium. They started knocking over reporters and shoving aside carts in the rush. Whether or not the ceremony was already done, that was not supposed to happen. His painfully empty stomach could wait a little longer. While there was an obvious evacuation going on, there were no Skylanders aiding the fallen and guiding the masses, letting the crowd feed off their calm and stern energy while they hid the quick calculations and observations of a complicated situation behind their narrowed eyes as steady as their footing, yet prepared to strike the second it was needed.

He also knew defending such an event was why Snap Shot and Kaboom's help was so often favored by the Portal Master. It was a quality shared by many of the Trap Masters due to their positions at Cloudcracker Prison, and they took their assignments to the Castle extremely seriously. Not even the jail exploding could shake any of them. Something was wrong wrong. He zipped through the air for a bird's eye view, looking for a gap in the terrified cascade. It took just a few seconds longer than acceptable for an opportunity to present itself, he rushed down to the sea of moles and nabbed one of the loners out of the lines, making sure they weren't fleeing with any family members.

Spyro thrust his wings toward the gap, on the other side of a corner, and stood on his wings so he could grab the Mabu by the shoulders. "Hey! What's happening?" He snapped the mole to attention but kept his voice relatively quiet compared to the screams, just enough to be heard without worsening his nerves.

"K-Kaos is attacking the Skylanders! He's got the Book!" The Mabu spat out.

Spyro turned heel before he was finished and dashed to a tall rock in the middle of the field. He silently thanked himself for putting on his makeup before leaving, the illusion scroll surely would've shifted and cracked under the force and heat of the jet of flames he unleashed at the Skylands. His paws landed with thuds as he addressed the shivering crowd. "THE ESCAPE BLIMPS ARE TO THE RIGHT, GET IN LINES AND CALMLY WALK TO THEM ONE AT A TIME." He ordered before throwing himself at the arena.

The Dark Portal Master was pacing gleefully around the grand stage, all but dancing between the Skylanders trapped within flame-like purple ice sculptures, including Elfie and Eruptor, but they'd have to wait. They might not have been in immediate danger, the bad guys historically wasted their time monologuing, but one of the only things he could feel was the ache in his heart as he turned away from his team. Miss Vanir and George were carrying incapacitated and barely breathing civilians away from a dense cloud of Darkness. A golden shimmer covered their bodies, but the old biclops was showing more of her age than she was a few seconds ago.

Dark veins crawled up her skin and bags formed beneath her eyes like her whole body was shivering. They were much less numerous and her eyes were more focused than the bystanders overwhelmed and sent to the rock by the Element of Corruption. Nothing a simple smoothie with Darkness Resist couldn't treat her for, but he'd still be dragging her to a Hospital if she didn't get there herself or leave with the devastated Mabu. Spyro flapped his wings up to and between them, both had some people in their arms; Vanir using her raw size and strength to haul them back and forth to a pile by the main stairs while George swung them over his shoulders like a soldier and jogged, sweat pouring down his face.

With one deep breath, he exhaled a burst of flames at the Darkness. He was no Light Skylander, but her flames burned bright enough to send it running. The Mabu on their ground were pale, sickly, and gaunt, but gratefully gasped for clean air. Stink Bomb was caught in the blast, but the dragon's fire did nothing to his prison. It just glowed violet and stood unchanged. Kaos may have had power over the Skylanders, but all Spyro had to do was get the Book away from him long enough to melt it.

Expecting the Portal Master and biclops to escape while they had the chance, he helped the last few Mabu get down and rushed for the Dark Portal Master.

-<🌀>-

"Well, this has been way too much fun!" Kaos pranced about the frozen statues, stopping before Eon and twirling a finger before his eyes. "Look at all these defenseless losers!"

"Very nice work, Lord Kaos." Glumshanks complimented while looking over the Portal Master's podium, pressing some buttons and tapping a lever near the bottom until it started to rumble.

"Thank you, Glummy." He happily sat on Chop Chop's frozen shield while aimlessly waving the book around. "You know, it's nice to be the one with all the power and wield it dangerously for once." Kaos dismissed the biclops, Eon's random non-Skylander lackey, and a purple dragon carrying around the Mabu hit by the start of his warp-dash. With the Skylanders under him complete control, they were of no threat or concern to him. The Core of Light, Quicksilver Vault, and the entirety of the Relics Room were all in his grasp.

"Truly some first-class wielding, sir, you should write a book on it." The troll rolled his eyes and gestured Kaos onto the podium. He was in a good mood, though, the troll could be annoyed all he liked for the day.

"Perhaps I will! But first." He sneered back at Eon, watching his face contort and whimpers squeak through the ice as he grabbed part of his beard, snapping it off. "Look! Beard-cicle!" Kaos laughed.

"I'll find a wonderful frame for it." Glumshanks promised and shifted to the side of the podium.

Kaos grinned, almost considering a raise as he pictured the little souvenir hanging at the foot of his bed. He gripped the podium handle and slid it up, turning it a few times to get the hang of the steering before he pointed it toward the main keep-

A light purple blur impacted the side of the podium, cracking the pillar and flipping the entire vehicle over. Kaos and Goumshanks were launched off the side as the stabilization held it upside-down. He'd left the lever in the 'rise' position when his small hands slipped, sending their shortcut to the tower plummeting with them while he quickly made a portal on the ground. The Dark Portal Master and troll fell through, appearing upright and flying through the air. Glumshanks' shocked yells continued as he covered them in Darkness, slowly lowering them to the ground. The Book of Skylanders was held close to his chest.

Did he attack, dodge, or defend? He hadn't seen where the blur went, so there was nothing to target and he wasn't sure where to dodge, not to mention his favored minion was still on the ground. Kaos withdrew the Darkness and flared it outward. Parrying the attacker took timing he didn't have while he still didn't know where they were, but he could certainly make a wall of force. Bright orange and yellow flames slammed into the shimmering violet shield and flowing black streaks. They were much stronger than he was expecting from someone who couldn't be a Skylander, not that he'd tell the purple blur flying circles around them.

Every part of the shield quaked and deformed as the stream of flame dragged on forever. It even persisted when the attacker ran out of breath, slowly sputtering out before the sound of a deep inhale pulled his attention to his left. Kaos shifted and condensed his shield to his off-hand so the Book of Skylanders was best covered. Abjuration sigils flashed over the barrier, but even it rippled a little as a huge fireball exploded in Kaos's face. The fumes shot right around him and Glumshanks as his shoes skidded across the sand, the space just in front of them having turned to small puddles and clouds of heated glass.

A bright purple dragon with amber accents growled, making the ground shake and sand shift so his and the troll's feet became slightly buried as if they were on the edge of a beach. "Put that book down, now." He threatened as if he was in any position to stand against the slayer of the Skylanders.

Kaos barely raised a brow before making a circle with his hand like he was about to flick someone away. ᛏᚱᚫᚾᛋᚳᛖᚾᛞᛖᚾᛏ᛫ᛋᛁᚷᚻᛏ. His eye flashed a gleaming purple through the arcane lens. Gray outlines and wispy blacks covered his vision. Sure enough, the dragon lacked the usually unseen Elemental marking of a Skylander, even a Chompy could've told him that, but he had the trademark pink and purple aura of Magic, plus, he breathed very powerful fire. While he was unsure how many Water minions he had at the ready, the Tech ones were almost as replaceable as Greebles. It would take more than some flames to deem the wannabe hero worthy of a Dark Lord's precious time.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" He dropped his hand and mocked the dragon. "You're not frozen, meaning you're not in this book, meaning you're not a Skylander, meaning you're nobody." Kaos cackled and swirled Darkness in his fingers. A black shade crawled down his hand like a spreading disease.

The dragon scowled and his orange eyes burned. "I don't need to be a Skylander to put you in the dirt." He threatened with restless irritation in his voice.

Mildly concerning, for someone else. The only acknowledgement he would get was a surprised blink at his sheer audacity and a wave of Darkness. The purple dragon dodged with great speed, dug his claws into the sand, and launched himself at the Dark Portal Master with his jaws wide and talons outstretched. His roar shook the arena almost as violently as he crashed into Kaos's renewed shield, then jammed his horns against it and exhaled into the ground. Kaos hopped back and dispelled the shield so the fire and dragon rushed right past him, then took the opening to strike him with a beam of black and purple lightning.

His annoyance took to the sky before the spell landed, always on the move and already charging another fireball. Kaos warped himself to the other side of the arena before the detonation quaked the building. Lightning attacks had long stood among his favorites for their speed and punch, though this dragon refused to stop moving long enough for the charge to connect. It was almost impressive, but he would not be bested by a glorified lizard. He focused his grasp on his more raw Petrified Darkness in his cloak, warped away from another fireball, and revealed it from the fabric to cast its dense and desperate to fly power all across the arena.

The dragon reeled and his flight grew unsteady as he started descending, though he flapped his wings so hard that they made a crack like a whip as he spun and turned sharply out of the way of another lightning blast. All the frozen Skylanders started floating in clouds of Darkness as he levitated the Book out of his way, clasping his hands in violet flames with a deep breath before he pressed his thumbs together, sending a sheet of flames from his fingertips and moving his hands up and down like he was creating a wave.

The somatics made the fire swell like he was pressing on a bellow, but the dragon didn't touch them as he glided and thrust his wings to the ground. Sand flew to the sides as he dove directly underneath the first motion while breathing a cone of fire, pushing Kaos's cursed plasma right above his horned head, took a breath when he slid beneath the upwards motion, then dug his claws and wings into the ground like a living long-jump pole while blasting a fireball and stream into the thin sheet like a hole puncher. Kaos crossed his hands to bring the Darkness up around him just in time to redirect snapping fangs right above him, then flung them back out into the dragon's gut like they were claws. The shadows coiled with his casting but the aspiring Skylander flapped his wings to push himself backwards. Black and purple deflected mostly uselessly off his orange chestplates.

His Petrified Darkness and the tome orbited around the Dark Lord as he weighed his options. He didn't want to waste some minor Tech minions on this infuriating dragon, but he also didn't want to give him the privilege of his time and magic. The Darkness surrounding him pulsed in agreed annoyance as fireballs reigned high, then rained down on Kaos. He created a portal right beneath his feet so he could suck the Dark power through with him, not leaving it to be dispersed by the blasts. Each fireball met its mark with mildly unconcerning accuracy and precision, but they were only of so much use when he flipped to the center of the arena.

Kaos inhaled the dark smoke, his butler having aided in setting up copper nodes so he could practice a particular trick he could use to get rid of the dragon for cheap. The first thing he needed was to set up some conductors, anything that could hold a charge, and the bodies of Skylanders held a lot of Elemental energy. For the first time since he growled like a rabid animal, the dragon ceased moving and steadied his footing as he took another deep breath. The grazing hit of Darkness had little effect now, but a greater dose later would do the Dark Portal Master wonders. Now was his chance to be rid of this insect!

He positioned both his Pertified Darkness and the Book of Skylanders before him and charged a crackling surge of lightning. The bolts crackled between his fingers and the relics, seeping into the tome and reappearing around the Skylanders. They buzzed and floated higher, all but the Earth Skylanders and Lava Elemental unable to ground the charge. He could feel the forest elf's already thundering heart rate skyrocket as she was consumed by black lightning, her power bursting at the seams like a forming storm while the old man became his great battery whether he liked it or not. If the dragon noticed his little 'friends' were turning into power stations right behind him in the heat of battle, then he didn't pay enough attention to it as he shot his fireball.

Their clash shook the soil and glassed the sand, sparks of light-eating lightning and brightly glowing flame flaring out to either side as the wounded Mabu, newcomer, and elderly biclops watched on. Holding back the torrent took a little more power than he expected to expend, but not enough for either of them to completely overwhelm the other. So, just like practice with Glummy, Kaos took in the lightning from the frozen Skylanders.

Instantly, the tips of the dragon's wings stabbed into the sand and he threw himself to the ground, watching the bolts rush for Kaos's midsection. Normally, the 'Monsoon' spell demanded a sacrifice of electrification in exchange for a blast the caster's spellwork couldn't traditionally handle at such a low cost, but the sacrifice would be paid by the Darkness surrounding him. Kaos twirled his hands like he was directing water through the Skylands, collecting the purple smog and cold shadows a short distance in front of him, allowing the gathered electricity to slam into the wall. He took a few steps backward in the process to give the surge plenty of space to be absorbed, then caught it with the tips of his middle and index fingers once the force of a hurricane came into his reach.

The energy connected to his hands and the floating Petrified Darkness, lifting it away from the ground before he redirected it back at the nameless dragon, though he wasn't the target. That speedy elf caught his attention, the way she squirmed and seized in his prison, and she was one of the new arrivals, likely in his opponent's class. If the pest knew her, then he knew she loved a stormy day. He could see in the dragon's eyes that he saw what Kaos was doing and refused to dodge. The sand stuck to his pearly claws and wing spikes as he rushed forward, shimmering with heat almost as great as the edges of his scaly lips as he breathed fire against the powerful but very magic-efficient attack. When that wasn't enough to push back the onslaught, his horns waved like a desert mirage as he took the lightning strike head-first.

A Skylander he was not, but he was just as predictable.

-<🌀>-

Stealth Elf, though protected by her icy shell, or him, who wasn't. The choice was simple. Spyro did his best to weather the storm before it hit him, burning through the Darkness and pressing against some of the electricity with his fire before the massive line of bolts hit. When it arrived, he heatbutted it, but his horns wouldn't ignite. He just barely figured out how to burn his talons from a childish fit of rage and his most recent use was poorly heat-drying Elfie's hair with only a small amount of energy in his claws, he hadn't had time to refine and train.

The arcs sparked along his horns and the tips of his wings, blasting down his claws as he seized and held them to his chest. His tail and toes curled like coiling snakes and his jaw snapped shut. All of his nerves burned like he'd been stuffed full and dipped in acid. He could feel the energy buzzing along his frill and sliding over his spinal ridges, driving the lightning directly through his vertebrae as it cooked his makeup and melted away his gel. His fire blasted through his fangs, he could feel them shaking, and continued to provide something of a barrier between Spyro's body and a portion of the attack, but it only did so much before he fell to the molten sand. Great, Eon saw that, I'm never becoming a Skylander.

Simmering orange and smoldering black sizzled on his scales as he forced himself upright and glared at the Dark Portal Master. "I've... felt... worse..." He huffed and puffed.

Kaos rolled his eyes, supposing he'd have to bring in some backup to get this dragon out of his way and move on with his plans, after all. "Riiiiiiiight." He droned as Darkness gathered and flared out like a pulse. Rifts opened all over the place, summoning troll-shaped drones as he pierced through Eon's wards from the inside. They flopped and clunked to the ground from purple and black portals in mass and unfolded their thin limbs. While Spyro shot past the masses of Tech gunners, brawlers, swordsmen, and spearmen to tend to the sizable pile of incapacitated Mabu, Miss Vanir, and George, Kaos gripped the Book of Skylanders and briskly walked toward the grand archway.

-<🌀>-

There were still too many Mabu for him and the old biclops to handle when orange and gold robots with binocular eyes and triangular ears started appearing from portals. He couldn't get the right angle to see where they were coming from as the purple dragon soared over his head, picking up a few moles and zipping out of the arena in the process, but George didn't care what factories they were jumping out of as he steadied himself.

He could hear the dragon yelling for him to back down as he dug his feet into the stone, sinking slightly as if he were stationed in a bunch of mud. Kaos hadn't done much to organize his forces, dropping them off completely randomly but more numerously than the starting rounds of the Final Trials. Maybe some spots were more efficient to create portals in than others, he just started figuring everything out. A mish-mash of a few swords and spears charged against a golden barrier. His shield rippled and deformed slightly, but not enough to break, they hadn't all attacked at once and many were too far away to take a shot before the dragon sent three fireballs square into three targets' metal chests.

One gunner and spear robot each exploded into red-hot bronze and gold, taking out multiple enemies each as the third hit the shield of a swordman. The last mark stayed standing but the fireball blasted sideways more than the others, spread out by the shield and melting many of the adjacent computers' insides, followed by Spyro throwing himself back into the fold. The melting shield bent and snapped in half as he gored the drone on the end of his horns, pulled off its arms like a Wookie, and used them to beat multiple nearby drones bloody oily. When there was nothing else in melee range, he the dragon resorted to blowing another few fireballs at some gathered robots while throwing the arms at those that wandered away from the pack.

Spyro didn't advance any further, though. He stood between George, the bicolps, the Mabu, and the short Portal Master's army. Streams and cones of fire carved through the horde, leaving Kaos more annoyed and his skinny green minion more resigned to his fiery fate. Vaguely troll-like piles of red and orange metal covered in cooling glass and obscured by ripples of heat were all that remained of the initial wave. Both of them savored the unfettered rage painted across Kaos's face as he created more rifts.

The next set was a lot more organized, much more serious. Instead of comically falling flat on their faces out of purple portals, the next wave appeared already in tight formations out of many deafeningly loud blasts of violet light and shadows, the same trick Kaos ambushed them with, like a bunch of gunshots. There were four squares of five soldiers in each line; robots with big metal fists in front, followed by swords and shields, spears were set over their shoulders, and guns shooting slow but explosive golden blasts were aimed in the final gaps. The dragon flew up to dodge them and broke the back line quickly, sending a fireball into each and sending the gunners flying before he turned and charged down to the ground to the left of the fighters' lines.

George took the opening presented by Spyro plowing his horns into the machines to rush down Kaos. The biclops was transporting Mabu, Spyro was covering her, someone needed to pin down the Portal Master. He ran between the four blocks of blades and shields against the purple Aspirant's wishes as he burned through some of rightmost drones encroaching on the strong old lady. He might not have had the brutal training and complex studies Spyro did, but he knew he could throw one hell of a punch.

Something he now knew from experience as the shorty smugly grinned and created two small portals; one in the center of his chest and the other beside George's head. His ears rang and his vision blurred, suddenly unsure how much of a consolation prize his right hook was. On the bright side, Kaos was too busy laughing and gloating to push further, offering him plenty of time to recover and Spyro to rip into more combatants like their armor and steel frames were little more than paper. The dragon left incredibly precise diagonal, perfectly vertical, and horizontal gashes parallel to the sand in their bodies as he cut them down one by one, something George couldn't hope to do without getting the hang of his magic now.

Earth was an Avatar Element, too, how did they work again? He adjusted his stance to stay low and sturdy, sending a jab Kaos's way while remaining a fair distance from him. George focused on the feeling of the Earth, his Earth, beneath his feet. Delving deep from the grassy crust to the molten core, he sent the energy down his fist. An orange aura of swirling dirt and summoned pebbles flung at the Dark Lord like the blast of a shotgun, though he effortlessly blocked it with the Book of Skylanders. Instead, mustering the confidence of someone who actually knew what they were doing, rather than that of someone picturing a cool move in his head and hoping for the best, he lifted a leg and stomped into the sand.

Puffs of dust fumed in a line towards Kaos, spotted with rocky crags. He and the goblin moved out of the way in a purple flash, so George protected himself on all sides with a ring of stone. One of the many tightly packed and interlocking pillars exploded into rubble, all bouncing off the golden film around his skin as he blindly pressed a hand against one of the other rocks. He could feel the tremors moving through the minerals as they shot up and down his arm like he hit the barrier with the force of a semi-truck.

It followed the arcane aura around his hand as he struggled to pull it away. He threw the massive weight into the gap in his ring. Although it didn't go very far, it at least got the gremlin on the other side to back off and rethink his strategy. He didn't have to weigh his options for long, Spyro gave him little choice other than to summon another wave of machines as the dragon cut down and melted his decoys with flawlessly straight clawmarks and the exact right amount of flame to finish every engagement as efficiently as possible. Meanwhile, George took the chance to grab and strain to lift all of the crags guarding him. Sweat poured down his face and every muscle in his body tensed and tore to lift the rocks without so much as tocuhing them.

A more diverse array of machines charged the purple dragon, swapping spears for larger lances, hauling bigger swords, and aiming better rifles; the punching trolls having folded the second the dragon approached. Spyro slammed into the first shield wall at the same time that George tossed the stones at Kaos. He dodged with another warp while one of the lance drones behind the greatshield toppled into the gunners like a bunch of dominoes, though the shield held long enough for Spyro to maul it from the behind safety of its own protection as the lances and guns at its back tried and failed to get an angle. Spyro used their own shield wall against them while George struggled to throw his own rocks a few feet into the Portal Master.

A behemoth of an inferno cast George's shadow like he was living a Monster Hunter game as he whipped around to face Kaos again, throwing a punch. He didn't even flinch or move as a translucent magenta shield absorbed every hit, then vanished as George plowed his boot into the ground to create a cloud of dust and small spikes. The Earth Portal Master's barrier wrapped around his flesh, but Kaos's was just a circle in front of him that tanked the burst of stalagmites. His minion came stumbling out of the fog, trying but tripping while sprinting for the exit.

The cloud darkened and wafted outward and the wind grew frigid, drawing George to dive to the ground right before a light-devouring blast of lightning reduced him to ashes. The sand glowed violet and flew like ignited gunpowder, but his thin armor was enough to protect him as long as he didn't get hit directly. What would happen if a bolt grazed him, he didn't want to know, that was why he reached for the line of lighter crags from his first kick and directed them towards his opponent. Just because he wasn't being taken as seriously as the dragon currently slicing and burning through the last of the second wave didn't mean he could be ignored.

"I'm starting to get very sick of your little rock juggling..." He curled his pointer finger into his thumb and looked through the hole, eye flashing purple before both widened. "Portal Master." Kaos gasped.

"What's it to you?" George sneered, outlined by the glow of another grand flame melting snipers and lancers as the shield bearers were far too slow and heavy to help.

"What do you think brought you here?" Kaos smirked, tapping his fingers together in a little pyramid like a politician. "Fate? A little bad luck? An experiment going awry? Or the side effects of my machinations going according to plan along the border of a pathetic magicless realm."

George grinded his teeth and clenched his fists. "What did you do?"

"Just select one of many meaningless worlds to vent some dimensional energy into." Kaos paced back and forth. With a snap of his fingers, a large ring of bowmen and greatshields ran around the Portal Masters. "One I can send you back to. These fools were always doomed to fail." He scowled. "All you have to do is step aside and let nature take its course, and I can send you right back home to your parents like nothing happened."

Condemn one world to get back to his own. A plane of infinite islands and the lives living here in exchange for a small town family of four.

George would do anything to get back to his family.

But not that.

"They'd be disgusted if I helped someone like you!" George shouted and pressed his hands into the sand.

All of the crags rose and flew unevenly at Kaos, failing to turn to point at him before they were consumed by a vacuum into a portal. Instead of a clear vision of the other side, it was full of purple clouds and a bright pink spiral. There was no clear space where his spikes were sent. He couldn't focus on it, lowering himself and spreading his arms to create a series of short walls against the resulting flurry of arrows from two sides and a fiery explosion from his right.

"Then you'll all be DOOOOOOOOMED!" Kaos echoed and raised a hand, sending George's meteors back at him from a spiraling portal and at the flying dragon.

George didn't back up or hesitate in the face of the stone rain. Solid as a rock. He hummed as a circular shield automatically took form in front of his face. Most projectiles shattered and he punched the last, which broke through, into a million pieces with one blow to the tip. Some more rocky punches and a boulder kicked up from condensed sand were sent Kaos's way as he hid behind his shield and black lightning with violet edges buzzed in his hand. It leapt to a dark crystal or gem orbiting him like a moon as black fumes poisoned the arena, then swung for George.

He hit the floor without a scratch and made a wall in front of him. It wasn't as strong or large as he needed it to be, he wasn't standing his ground and blocking the overwhelming storm like a mountain, but it was blown to countless smaller bits and the bottom managed to keep most of the lightning off of him. A bolt seared the ozone, cracked his armor, and ripped a scream from his mouth as it glossed down his side, freezing cold yet melting through the skin. George fought through the pain and lifted the rocks again, watching them be shot out of the sky and raining down on him like bubbling hot grease that weakened his broken armor before Kaos drew in his arms.

The Darkness swelled and churned as he learned from the mistakes of his last waves, summoning lighter drone with kite shields and a mix of powerful but slow snipers, faster archers, and enough gunmen to keep up the pressure on the dragon as he crossed his arms, spinning his hands like the blades of a fan. A funnel formed from the shadows, pulling sand up from the arena floor and tugging on the hems of George's clothes. His silhouette grew like looking through a twisted magnifying glass, turning abyssal black and sprouting talons with a pair of blazing crimson eyes peering through the fog.

A fire melted through several drones as Spyro harshly grabbed George by the shoulders, ripping him away at the last second before the tornado fell over right in the center of the two lines of robots. His jaws were gently closed so the cone of fire bursting between his teeth was a flat sheet melting the shields. While not strong enough to take more than a few blasts, they were fast enough to prevent Spyro from burning through the ranged drones with the firepower to bring him down.

When that failed and the guns and bows pointed at them, Spyro rode the spinning gusts of shadow and air pressure in a fast spin. The outside of George's armor shook and rippled as the Darkness ate away at every imperfection and instability in the completely unrefined defense and Spyro used George as a counterweight to throw himself into a circle, blasting a solid jet of flame into the lines. Shield bearers on one side fell over, unable to recover from the dragon's first flame in time, while the other still faced enough pure force to ruin their aim. The back line's metal glowed with heat as their insides were melted beyond repair, the shields were left to pull themselves to their mechanical feet by themselves, having failed to guard the less-protected robots. Even still, the closer line was sent tripping and colliding with the dragon's force.

Spyro yanked George close to his burning hot chest and wrapped his wings around the boy as the arrows fell and plasma bolts dissipated, his expression not even twitching. He proceeded to give the Portal Master whiplash when he flung his wings back, sending them hurdling towards the ground when a lightning bolt shot above them, shocking Spyro's back as he shielded George with his body, then made a thunder sound with the crack of the tips of his wings slamming together once. Even the single thrust sent them soaring into the archway.

"WHAT IN SKYLANDS DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" Spyro landed and scolded him, taking off again just as fast and drawing the remaining rangers' fire away from the last few Mabu and biclops, then incinerated everything in range as George panted and clutched his bruised shoulders, feeling the cracked magic where the dragon's claws easily stabbed straight through, even the patterns of the fractures were perfectly symmetrical.

Holy crap I almost died like four times. George panted, shaking it off the best he could and grabbing one of the Mabu. What did I get dragged into?

Chapter Text

Spyro's wings, especially the ends, burned with the ache of making so many twists, turns, and rapid accelerations in such a short time, but tiring wouldn't be what put him down. If it came down to it, then the Dark Portal Master would earn this fight. He swirled and dashed along the wall of shields. Only the gunner bots were fast enough to take aim at him, easy to turn against them as they shot down the remaining seared robots on the other line. A few unsteady shields and the last of the ranged machines were blasted apart, though Kaos wasn't so easy to dispose of, blocking his automated minions' attacks. His black and white face filled with rage, though it had nowhere to go but to the person who ordered the drones' construction.

For a long fraction of a second, he considered trying to burn Kaos's backside, but instead dipped lower and let a stream loose into the final machines. The long line of fire held against their metal bodies for seconds, turning them into melting statues. Nothing short of bubbling puddles of molten metal releasing plastic fumes would suffice for the dragon, but he didn't have the time to scold himself. All that was left was the lines of kite shields, though they were quickly reinforced.

He almost thought the son of the Corruptor was taking him seriously, but only for a moment as some Water Elementals, Water Weirds, and some visibly higher-end troll robots joined the fray. The Water Weirds looked like fish on land, though didn't act like it. Instead of perishing beyond the bodies of water they were bound to, a shadow swirled around their liquid bodies wherever they touched the arena's sand. They took the forms of serpents with long whiskers and were the first to dash into him as the machines and Water Elementals steeled themselves. Their vaguely-shaped suggestions of jaws gaped and their rippling teeth hardened into watery shlush.

Spyro, however, was very familiar with the plentiful battles between Earth Kingdoms, Water Kingdoms, and pirates. It was a trick developed by Malefor as the Arkeyans fell to provide his Magic and Fire combatants with swift and just annoying-enough not to be ignored fodder as he and the real soldiers outmaneuvered the enemy from the safety of their water walls; the counter was one of the first things Spyro figured out after that history class. He landed and took a breath before charging the Water Weirds like he was going to ram them, fanning the flames in his body with every step, then threw himself along the ground like a penguin while exhaling another wafer-thin triangle of flames.

It wasn't enough to destroy them, but it didn't need to be. These monsters that could absolutely tank eight to ten hits from any ordinary Mabu soldier would be a waste of breath. The fire was dense and the heat was great, but he was after the light. Kaos's favored Element did him no favors as the orange and gold radiance banished the protective movement spell right from under the Weirds like ripping off a tablecloth. The second they hit the sand, they burst into a horizontal shower and sept into the ground. Spyro jumped over the puddles and swiftly selected a robot to maul, given plenty of choices now that the unrestrainable grapplers were out of the way.

There were more accurate and higher-powered snipers in the back, high-voltage power packs having been mounted to their backs. Their handling of their guns was a lot better than the previous models, but their footing left something to be desired. He could just move around them as long as he stayed close enough that they'd have to turn their bodies to keep up with him. The new gunners had the same additions to their spinal frames, giving them enough punch to be something of a threat to his scales, but not much. Their speed, however, would be as difficult to deal with as ever; his wings and legs weren't getting a break anytime soon.

All of them were guarded by a line of heavily armored swordsmen with more kite shields, covered by a line of armored lances, and centered by a massive mech with four broad legs steadying itself as an enormous cannon built into its left arm hummed with energy and a spiked fist clenched its hydraulic fingers on the right. A pair of guns on its shoulders flashed with light as the single massive lens in its small head locked onto the dragon.

Spyro selected one of the lancers that had stumbled out of position as the Water Elementals took a legless humanoid shape right behind it and the fires that slaughtered the Water Weirds with their own limitations turned the sand they stood on to heated glass and a shifting cloud. He hopped up and swiped at its chest, pushing its drill-like lance to the side with a wing as he left two sets of perfectly symmetrical, perfectly vertical lines in its armor. He bashed its face with his horns as he flared his wings, clocking some of the swordmen across the piston jaws as he threw them behind him. The gusts of air threw him into an aerial somersault that slashed his tail down on the drone's head, the three segments clicked on the metal and drove its bronze skull into its torso, crushing its internal circuitry.

He sent some fireballs the Water Elementals' way as he turned to the right, knowing they'd be a problem once they were ready. The shield wall held their barriers in their left hands, giving him an opportunity to snap at the robot's neck and lift it in the air with him as the smaller guns on the big drone opened fire in the front lines' backs. It mowed down part of the shield wall for him and struggled to angle its greatly reinforced body upward with only its legs; there were too many struts and supports keeping it together to keep pace with the dragon. Before ending the wave of Water Weirds, he managed to carry his momentum to the side just enough to prevent the stray golden blasts from ricocheting into the archway or riddling the Mabu with holes, not enough distance for him.

The dragon repeatedly dragged his talons over the machine's armor like he was running over it, only stopping when he felt the robot's guts fall out of the chassis. The taste of hydraulic fluid and oil tainted his tongue as he took a breath and sent the machine soaring into a Water Elemental. Its body boiled and deformed as impact was made, metal slivers flowed out of the mass and wires got caught in the white-water current.

There was no time to decide what he'd hit next, the bigger machine's main cannon was a lot easier to handle than the guns welded to its shoulders. The four rails guiding the blast of plasma were lined with small gems, but were otherwise lightweight and dependent on the machine's backpack for strength, which he'd gladly use to his advantage after the robot launched a solid beam into the stadium's stone seats. Rock melted and arcs jumped off of the core pulse, covering the rock seats in soot marks and zapping the imprisoned skunk Skylander as it chased Spyro.

Kaos laughed and smiled at the dragon's expense until the cannon ran out of steam. Then Spyro pushed back, diving down to the ground, right on top of one of the machine's legs. He created some drag and wasted some speed by carefully angling his wings until one of the four legs lifted for a minor adjustment. He slammed his horns into one of the legs still on the ground, shattering the joint as the other limb looked for a spot to rest. It ruined the robot's balance, making it fall on some of the Water Elementals and machines as they tried to line up a shot. Water boiling and metal melted as Spyro flung himself into the lines, out of the way of the big drone's spiked fist as it squished a few snipers and gunners.

Bolts of energy and a frustrated strike of dark lightning from the livid Dark Lord glanced off his tough scales, burning and shaking him as electricity ran through his muscles, but not enough to prevent him from boiling away more of the Water Elementals' flowing bodies in a cone of fire. Then he spun around to run through some of the last ranged bots before the shields could adjust to his constant repositioning. Spyro circled a few more times, dodging blasts and weaving through black and purple lightning as he charged more fireballs.

Steam filled the air, plastic fumes poisoned the dragon and Dark Portal Master, and blobs of metal deformed and fused together into a long red and orange line coated in sand and glass. They stood apart, one huffing and puffing while the other's face contorted in rage. His heavy eyes pleaded to close and his shaking legs begged to buckle, but his team and Master Eon were staring at him from inside their frozen jails. He had to keep going. No worthwhile Skylander would back down, and a Skylander was all he'd ever be... Except he had an out, now. He could walk away and make his own home with his own job whenever he wanted. Don't be tempted, stay the course.

Kaos's eyes glanced behind the dragon, followed by his fists clenching. Was he looking at the biclops, or Portal Master? It didn't matter who he was targeting next, he had to protect everyone or he was useless. Spyro gunned it for the archway, blind to who he was throwing himself in front of until he was between the Dark Portal Master and Miss Vanir. Two of the final three Mabu were in her arms as Kaos swirled Darkness down a sleeve.

A crystal blade took form within his grasp, forcing apart his tightly clenched fist. It had no handle, guard, or pommel; an incredibly clear, polygonal purple blade like a cut diamond that was slightly more curved at one end of the tip than the other like a giant kitchen knife, with a perfect rectangle cut in the bottom for Kaos to hold it by. He waved it more like a long wrist blade or brass knuckle than a sword, his pale grayish skin turning pinkish as the edges of the cuts reflected and a faint purple light shone from within.

He waved the Dark crystal sword in an arc above his head, more blades taking form like he was opening a paper fan. Nine swords floated above him as he let go of the tenth. All of them turned so their less-curved sides faced the dragon and biclops, then surged forward with a snap of Kaos's fingers. Spyro blasted a cone of fire into the flurry of flaying crystals, reducing many of them to explosive blasts of Darkness quite literally blowing up in his face. His scales paled and body weakened as the shadows splashed through the gaps in his fire, washing over his wing membranes as he blocked their access to Miss Vanir, all except one.

While the nine knives vanished in flashes of toxic purple and tainted violet light and scratched his scales just barely enough for him to feel them, the one Kaos had been holding veered right. The other swords bursting into rapidly shrinking shrapnel covered its advance towards George's chest and the final Mabu he was escaping with. He could just stand his ground, then Eon would have to keep him close again. Spyro forced his cone of fire into a solid beam and swung his head down and to the side, thrusting him to the side like a rocket just enough for the thrust and superheated air to carry his wings in front of the young Portal Master.

Lightning erupted out of his side as the sword slid along his scales and burrowed into his hide. The flat end ran beneath his wing bone, he could feel the long, angular edges slashing his ribs one by one and shaking as his tough scales quickly absorbed the force. The axe-like ends of his wing and foreleg's shoulder blades clicked and squished the wider center of the sword. Bright red dragon blood soiled the sandstone and the front of George's shirt, but the sword clicked against and was stopped by his vertebrae before it plowed through the unconscious, Darkness-afflicted Mabu and his replacement's heart. Both bystanders gasped and stumbled back as his jaws tightened and eyes stung. The oxygen was ripped directly out of his blood like steam out of water and the air burst out of his lungs as if they were popped like balloons.

He slowly managed to lift one paw off the ground, supporting himself with his ungashed wing as the Dark Lord's victorious smile stopped meeting his confused eyes. "...I've..." His cut wing trembled as even more than his claws as they wrapped around the crystal sword's square opening. "...Felt..." Spyro's breath caught in his throat as he started to pull. Blood poured from his exhausted body and trailed down his right legs, sept between the gaps in his amber plating, and dripped from his sternum. "...WORSE..." And the Portal Masters believed him.

-<🌀>-

His blood is all over me.

The new Portal Master's breath caught and his hold on the sickly Mabu clenched as Spyro adjusted his stance. He slowly stopped shaking and held his wings close to his body as he fought to turn back to the boy and biclops. "G-Get them o-out of here." He growled.

He swallowed and glanced to the old lady before they rushed out of the arena, booking it for the escape sky-boat things as the dragon turned back to Kaos. His sharp teeth locked together as he summoned another sword. Who was this dragon? Because there was no chance he was a normal Skyloser. What mattered more was how to finally get rid of him. Just because Kaos was no longer in a hurry to destroy the Core of Light didn't mean he wanted to waste so much time and resources on this dragon. The problem wasn't that he couldn't penetrate his scales,

Even as blood poured from his wound, a bright flame seared the inside of the dragon's maw. He curled his forked tongue like a snake preparing to bite, dividing his fire into two small lines. One vented out into nothing and the other lined the cut. Dark and light gray smoke wafted between his teeth and out of the bloody cut before he shook and turned back to Kaos. The dragon hobbled onto the sand with the tip of one wing replacing a foreleg, only wincing in a little pain when his paw grabbed, cracked, and popped his wing. It shook as he stretched it and circled the sand. Kaos could try targeting that side of his body until he tripped up, but he'd seen the dragon turn on a coin thus far, even airborne. That would require a lot of careful timing that would make the fight last longer than he would like.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're impressed." The dragon boasted with faux-vigor. He could play touch all he liked, but not even his Mother was invincible.

"No, I just found an annoying enough fly to swat." Kaos hissed, shifting his grip on his new sword before holding it out to the dragon.

They both crouched low, his Petrified Darkness and the Book of Skylanders spinning around in a shroud of Darkness. A flame similarly ignited in the dragon's maw, his claws dug into and pulled up clumps of sand as they circled, psyching each other out with a few strategic waves of their sword and wings. The dragon shot first, suddenly turning around so his uninjured side was facing the Dark Lord and blasting a powerful fireball. Kaos first opted for the defensive approach, he wasn't about to lose everything to a nobody when triumph was right in his hands. Shadows curled around his body like a cocoon, deflecting the heat while he got a better look at the purple lizard.

Starting simple for now, he got an angle and shot black lightning from his fingertips, but the dragon used his wings for a burst of speed. Sand turned to glass and clean air turned to a burst of fire. Kaos warp-dashed to the other side of the arena and held his sword high, overflowing it with Darkness and electricity. Black, gray, and violet clouds swirled around the long blade as lightning struck about the sand and frozen Skylanders. Several strikes of lightning burst in a long line toward the dragon, easy to dodge, but getting him in position as a wave of smog wafted in his direction. Kaos threw himself forward on a wave of shadows, the same spell he loved using on his corrupted Water Weirds. Warp-dashes might've been powerful tricks, but they didn't let him build up the momentum for his sword strike into the dragon's other wing.

Purple scales and bright orange flashed and blurred as a set of pearly claws swiped across the crystal blade, sending purple sparks flying as he parried the attack with his bare hand, then swiping across his gut. A purple shimmer protected the Dark Poral Master as he threw himself backwards, out of the way of another swipe so he could regenerate the damaged layer of arcane protection in time for the dragon to pounce again. His long teeth latched onto Kaos's sword, less than an inch from his face. He shocked the reptile away and warp-dashed behind him, double-dosing him with clouds of Darkness before slashing as his tail.

The dragon leapt in the air to avoid it, not knowing where the attack was coming from as shadows clouded his eyes, just that it was coming. Kaos covered himself with his robes when a fireball exploded where the dragon escaped from and tried to cut his legs from the sand, but he was too short. A segmented tail swatted away the sword again and a pair of horns rushed for his jugular. He inverted the Elemental energy, turning it to snow and boiling it all away with another swipe of cursed fires.

His opponent disappeared, flying about the arena, taunting him with an easy shot at his wing injury. Another blast of lightning tore through the air and blasted the stone seats. Puffs of ionized dust and sandstone chips followed the dragon as it lead Kaos along, making Kaos play his game. That fool was waiting for him to run out of steam, he'd be waiting a long time as his electrified hands turned on each other. Shadows and pinkish light curled around his forearms, solidifying like steel into a pair of detailed guards. Not as tough as complete mage armor, but it would have to do for now as a fireball soared.

Kaos yanked his cloak over him again, his shoes slid across the sand as the force sent him back, but it took another burst to throw him off-balance. The dragon immediately dove for his spine, jaws open and talons outstretched. Whirling Darkness around him like a tornado, Kaos threw the tome directly in the dragon's face. If he wanted it so badly, he could have it. Spittle splattered across the ground as the Dark Lord fell through a portal beneath him. The exit was vertical, dropping him off back on his feet and right outside of the dragon's paws. It closed right on his nails, flinging him back as the tear in space-time sealed. With the same motion he slammed the book against the Aspirant's face, he brought the icy block back to him and deflected another fireball with his forearm guard.

Three more bolts of lightning whizzed past the dragon and shattered and seared nearby towers and the arena walls until he dipped behind one side. Line of sight was broken, he covered himself in a liquid haze like suspended rain in preparation for the next flame. He couldn't see his target, but he could hear the flaps of large wings rounding the entire building. One set of the big wooden doors lining the perimeter burst open, shattering to pieces and flinging smoldering splinters in Kaos's direction. The red-hot hinges bounced off the ground as not a fireball, but a constant stream of flame flew straight for his face.

Not a mix-up he was prepared for, had he been an honest mage. The haze of water meant to take the punch out of a blast started gradually evaporating away at a faster rate than his opponent was running out of breath, even while flying circles around him. Steam obscured their vision but neither lost track of the other for a second. Kaos expanded the guard on his left forearm into a shield to continue conserving magic.

The Pertified Darkness hovered into his hand, casting thrumming and splintering as he projected a toxic miasma through it. A cold, black mist coated the arena floor like the sand had turned to ash and Soul-sapping streaks of pink light casting magenta auras violently caught a grip on their surroundings. The ice's color deepened, drowning out the Skylanders' Elemental markings as the shadows sapped their strength. Streamers dragged across the dragon's scales like razor blades and smoke curled around his limbs and neck like ropes. At last, his movements slowed and muscles failed, allowing Kaos to line up a shot. Even still, the fight raged with a few more dodges before his lightning finally glossed over the vibrant purple scales and amber membranes.

Rolling back to his feet, the dragon's talons dug into the ground and skidded to a halt. His fire was smaller, but still more than enough to generate a small space of cooling glass and clean air within the miasma. Kaos reeled in the shadows behind him and sent it crashing forward like a wave, one that the Aspirant's cone of flames could barely create a big enough gap in to lessen the impact. His breathing accelerated and light poured between his teeth as he inhaled and burned away a large amount of fumes, but it wouldn't be enough to save him.

-<🌀>-

"Someone has to go back for him!" George argued with the evac blimp captain.

He was just another Mabu over half his size, but he was a hell of a rules lawyer. "Everyone has to evacuate while the Skylanders handle the situation."

"The Skylanders can't 'handle the situation' you idiot!" George repeated.

The airship lurched as one of the crew unfastened it from the dock and the bat wing-like propeller started to spin. Now or never. He took a gulp of air and turned to the back of the ship, hyping himself up. The short captain tried to reach for him, but the old biclops heaved him into the air with one hand. George hopped the railing and kicked off the other side, sealing one of the worst decisions in his life with a shoulder roll across the Academy's grass with the ship's propeller blowing wind into his hair.

He sprinted back to the arena, back to Spyro, passing tipped-over food carts and flattened wooden stands. Shadows were crawling up the inner walls and a thick fog coated the sands, he could see them before he even rejoined the party. Whatever the Death Knight threw square into his chest was, it better have been worth the bruised rib. It thrummed and glowed, bursting with power beneath his shirt, shining through the fabric as he put a shield over the dragon.

Once Spyro had a reprieve from the black and gray toxins, he turned his golden hands onto himself. Medieval armor, gleaming bright golds and oranges, locked tight around his body and layered over his leather covers. He barreled through the Dark smog with a shield in front of him and stomped into the sand, kicking up a small boulder to keep the pressure on Kaos while the dragon recovered. Spyro's breathing quickened and deepened, fanning a fire that shone through his chest and ran along his veins.

Spyro, only recently learning he could do this, had no control over the fires running down his pearl claws, bursting out of his frill, and streaming down his spine. Like a valve opening, he finally managed to get the fire started. The light pushed back the shadows, letting some strength return to him as Kaos's form shifted and warped like a hallucination. The shadows uplifted him into a tall, long-clawed figure with burning red eyes. Four or five times George's size (whom he knew he told to get out of here), the Dark Lord's talons curved and his arms warped like they were snakes as freezing cold water and bright flames formed in his palms.

"You're gonna get yourself killed." Spyro growled at the Portal Master.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." George held a hand towards him, strengthening the golden light turning to armor around his arms, chest, and head.

The dragon sighed, already too tired and irritable to argue before Kaos resumed slinging spells. "Your funeral."

More like ours. George threw himself at the sand floor when Kaos swiped his burning claw across the ground, sending three lines of fire straight for him as his pinky fused with his ring finger. Their opponent did the same with the water claw at Spyro, crossing the attacks with a massive puff of steam at the center as the dragon took off. His spine and the tips of his wings flashed and shimmered with heat, rapidly growing into raging flames as the Dark Portal Master held both huge hands to his temples. The bright red, narrow eyes squinted as the symbol on his head shone bright pinkish-purple through the shadows. Spyro dove through the steam cloud and yanked George into the air right before a quaking blast of Darkness reduced the side of the archway to rubble.

George made sure the artifact remained hidden in his shirt as he was set on the ground behind the towering projection of Darkness and purple light. He drove his fists into the ground, summoning multiple boulders to hurl into the shadow's back. The dark stung his hand as it slid through the clouds. Purple light and black smoke shook the arena like thunder as the projection warped behind George, flinging him across the sand and through the acidic shadows like he'd been in the center of a hurricane. He tried to counter with a line of crags from the floor, but the enemy didn't even try to block them as they phased directly through the Dark. Tendrils reared up behind the Dark spirit, all impaled with violet crystals that flashed and drained the light from around them.

Spyro tackled him again and weaved sporadically throughout the sands, fighting to stay afloat as a massive burst of lightning surged from the heavens. They could see this side of the island dip and turn back to level. The Skylander statues slid back and forth with the momentum and both of them tumbled as they tried to land. Spyro got up like he hadn't even fallen or felt the chemical burn of the miasma that ate at George's face, hands, thighs, and upper arms. He spun in the air, wings scattering bright flames as a rocket-like jet of fire devoured the projection. It rippled and swirled like the eye of a hurricane with its caster hovering in the center, far above George's failed line of stone spikes. Kaos shielded himself with his clearly enchanted cloak and a small pinkish barrier, but he released one of his arm guards to do it.

The Portal Master stomped, creating a boulder beneath him and jumping with more force than he thought he was capable of and body-checked the all-powerful black magi. He didn't get magic the way Kaos did, but he could clock the little tyrant across the face now that one of his arms was preoccupied. While the Darkness was banished around him, there was nothing stopping a portal from taking shape. They fell right through, some of Spyro's flames following them through the rift as they were deposited far above the Skylanders' Castle.

FUCK. George and Kaos plummeted, the former's shouting covered by the rushing winds as he helplessly fell and the latter smiling before vanishing in a flash of violet, striking the arena island and resuming the fight with the dragon as George fell to his death. He tried to reach a hand for the sand, holding the feeling of the beach filtering through his fingers as he fell, more than a little challenging when he was about to go splat.

Golden light rushed for the bottom, unraveling his body like he was being painlessly torn apart atom by atom and crashing to the arena floor. Crags and floating boulders surrounded him, laced with gold and orange wisps that carved a safe spot for himself in the heart of the shadows. Kaos had waved away another fireball and was curling the shadows around him, filling them with Dark static and purple hues as Spyro retreated to George's shrinking safe zone for any form of relief from the withering shadows.

A wave of electricity crackled outward like an EMP from a movie or video game. Spyro prepared to blast a hole through it with what little strength he'd regained, but George stopped him with one hand and felt the sand on the other side of the storm with the other. A golden flash brought them through the electrical haze and Spyro leapt in a fountain of flames and blasted his fire directly into the Dark Portal Master. Kaos barely blocked with a pair of shields, retrieved the arm guards he projected them from, and spun the swirling Darkness around him faster and faster. It swept George off his feet like a tornado and threw off Spyro's flight, putting more and more pressure on his hurt and weakened wings. Eventually, the dragon was forced to cave to the turbulence and both of them were violently thrown against the walls.

Their golden armor shimmered and cracked, letting in some of the Darkness as their heads spun and backs ached like they'd been stabbed. Again, Spyro got up first, charging a flame and blowing beneath him to push back the shadows. Kaos drew in the miasma, forming a bubble of blackness over his head. It popped, splashing him with poison. Poisoned water, smoky flames, bleached bones, and rotting leaves swirled around him, the first dousing the next torrent of fire as the last obscured his vision. But George could see the tyrant preparing another blast of lightning.

He slid his leg across the sand, biting his tongue as it burned, and sent a boulder Kaos's way. The sound of the sand rushing and rock wooshing stopped the attack, directing the Dark Lord to create a portal to send the rock back at George instead of pushing his advantage against the exhausted dragon. George got up and punched the rock, sending chunks after the Elemental cyclone and stomping to levitate all the stationary stones. Kaos obliterated all of them with his lightning and gathered the floating bones around one hand. His upper arm shifted and bisected like he created a portal inside of it, turning it to curved shadows down to his reformed talons.

Kaos kept Spyro under pressure and baited him to attack with an Element Magic and Fire were good against. Though the dragon took his chance, he held back with suspicion. When the claw whizzed over his horns, he jumped above a wave of icy slush sparking with black lightning and exhaled onto the attacker, who blocked it with an archway of roots and thorns. Kaos's arm returned to normal but the four Elements tightened around his body. Massive tree trunks, a giant's vertebrae, a serpent of lava, and a spectral leviathan forced Spyro to retreat.

The water poured down, splashing Kaos as his neck and up turned to Darkness. The head of a sea serpent chased Spyro with a stream of pressurized water, leaving grooves in the stone walls and covering their bases in mud. George's back froze and stung as he dove beneath the attack and tried to throw Kaos off-balance, creating a rock beneath his foot, but he teleported to the exit. Four rifts opened around him, creating long dragon heads of magma, the sea serpent, a skeletal beast, and a forest spirit. At the command of a raspy laugh, the Hydra blasted its four attacks. George weathered the surge of radiant green and gold light from the Life head and Spyro charged through the Undead head's blast of putrifying miasma.

A nest of bone brambles protected Kaos from a fireball, but they quickly dispersed. It quickly became painfully apparent that was the plan when a tsunami rushed forward, heading straight for George and dragging the sharp bone brambles with it. He tried to create a wall of rock, but there was no time, not until Spyro headbutted the ground in front of him and blasted a beam of flames into the rushing waters and sea of spiritual leviathan and shark heads snapping at the edges of his wings.

The Portal Master created several layers of crags and fissures between him and the waves. Quantity's a quality of its own. Spyro flipped over the spikes with a flap of his wings and landed panting beside George. Drool boiled in his jaws and his breaths were a bunch of black smoke. His legs and wings were shaking and his head was held low, but he still burst into the air when the waters receded, spun around a spot from the Life Hydra, and charged the tyrant directly. The Life head was sucked back into the rift and created a thorny bush of dead branches and rotting leaves, forcing Spyro to disengage again as the Water head blasted downward and crated a glacier that held back a flurry of George's rocks.

Frigid mist billowed out of Kaos's shield, though it wasn't tough enough to prevent a wide cone of fire from gradually melting it away. But when Spyro was done and George was prepared to throw stones again, the Fire Hydra finished charging and released a torrent. The Dark Portal Master smiled wickedly, baring his sharp teeth as George found he couldn't warp-dash away, his gold light and partial deconstruction of his body were snuffed out and reversed by the Counterspell of a far more powerful Portal Master.

But before the Fire head turned him to ashes, Spyro whirled around and shoulder-checked him to the other side of the arena. His shoulder popped and shimmering armor cracked, but not as much as Spyro's shield. The protection shattered and light faded as the blast of flames sent the dragon flying. The flames wrapped around the Skylanders, protected by the spell on the Book of Skylanders, but Spyro didn't have the luxury. His momentum carried him out of the fire and meteors of molten rocks, but he was still forcefully sent back.

A wet, sickening crack echoed over the fog-covered sand. Spyro left a deep crater in the wall and he was still flying almost horizontally to the ground. George slammed his fist into the earth, sending a splash of sand spotted with small pebbles after the limp dragon. Glowing orange blood painted the soil as it took the shape of a three-fingered hand that dispersed and fell apart, gently setting Spyro on the ground. The dragon remained there as George got up, doing his best to copy the newfound trick with a massive boulder fist flying at the Dark Lord, but it was quickly turned to rubble by a surge of bone brambles.

He dodged the explosion with a warp-dash right next to Kaos, who covered his face from the Earth pulse with his cloak. Rocks collected around George's fist as he tried to punch Kaos again, but he was fully expecting the purple portal that redirected the punch into his gut. He let the rocks flow around his body, fist stopping right in front of his armor, then swung his other arm through the cloud of sand and pebbles. George made contact with Kaos's side, sending him rolling across the ground, but he quickly got up like he was surfing on a wave of shadow and ice, crackling with electricity.

The Portal Master did his best to dodge a bolt of lightning, but it was just enough for the electricity not to sear through his heart. His armor shattered and skin peeled as he flew across the sand. He warped up to the seats, getting away from the miasma and falling down some of the steps. He heaved as the air was knocked out of him. Spyro returned to his feet and charged Kaos, face contorting in pain as he lowered his horns. He weaved away from a burst of flames from the Hydra, blasted a fireball through the Undead head's eye socket, flapped his wings over a bone bite, barrel-rolled away from a fiery headbutt, just to have a wing clipped by a small electric shock.

Losing stability, Spyro dove down and charged through a series of brambles summoned in a hurry. When he burst through, a shadow of a large talon drove a palm directly into his chest. His fire turned it back into Kaos's normal hand but another, well-charged burst of lightning sent him flying back. Puffs of sand were sent into the sky and Dark fog seeped into his wounds unchallenged. The Hydra's Water head leaned in to waterboard the dragon further back, slamming his head and back against the foot of the main stage and knocking over some frozen Skylanders. The venomous white water ran pinkish with red and light purple.

The disembodied sea serpent got a different angle on the dragon, pushing Spyro back around the stage. His head bashed into the far wall again and the immense, stone-cracking water pressure continued ragdolling him around the curved walls like rolling him uphill. As the walls slowly became more perpendicular to the Water Hydra's geyser, the Aspirant's rolling slowed, resulting in him instead being driven deep into a growing crater. He was shot through the wall, inside the arena's version of a backstage, through a bunch of metal equipment and spare drones, behind the wooden doors to the dense spinning gears ad live wires of the internals, and bashed against the other wall when the water finally stopped.

George got to his feet, smashing a crater into the seats beside him for a large boulder to throw at the coiling vines and creaking bark that harshly grasped the dragon by the chest and brought him before the Dark Portal Master. The rock did almost nothing, barely splintering some of the branches as Spyro dangled helplessly over Kaos. His disgusting laughter tore through the Skylands as blood and water dribbled down the dragon's tail.

Spyro's consciousness returned for only a second, catching a glance at Glumshanks as he peeked around the corner of the archway entrance in time to witness Kaos filling the plant prison with lightning. A roar and funnel of black smoke ripped out of his throat, raining ash on the combatants as he spasmed and the plants burned. Darkness condensed around Kaos, buzzing with even more electricity. His shadowy projection returned to its full height, baring its talons and sneering with its burning red eyes. The shadows beneath the looming abyssal figure poured forth, covering the bases of the roots and bark.

Its mouth ignited with purple flames and opened wide, as did a pair of crystal-spiked tendrils unfurling like wings from its back that sparked with all the rage of a storm brought together into one charging blast. The clouds around Spyro's plant clamp tightened, sending a strike of lightning into his back. Purple scales and boiled blood flew like a grenade had been set off as Spyro was thrown into the projection's burning mouth. His limbs and head smacked against the cloudy teeth and miasma and cursed fire followed him like the trail of a comet out of the other side. He rang and crashed through the bell tower high above the exit arch, fell down the front, and scraped against the rock.

The shadow's tendrils coiled together, pointing upward towards a purple portal. George did his best to unravel the rift, he poured everything he and the artifact pressed against his chest had into negating the attack, but he had no idea what he was doing or how to use the item, the most he could do was follow the Earth energy to the other side of the arena before it overloaded and exploded against his heart. Black lightning blasted into the portal, the other end of which appeared pointed at the dragon as he fell by the archway.

Black energy and pinkish-purple light shook the entire island again, sending Spyro straight through the top of the archway in a purple explosion and slamming against the other arch. Burnt blood and charred scales splattered and embedded themselves into the stone roof. Spyro dropped limply to the ground and Kaos's shadow roared with laughter as his minion avoided the sparking stones collapsing from the structure.

The projection melted away into a smog of Darkness spinning mockingly and victoriously around a still cackling Kaos, recollecting into a dense abyssal orb in one palm and a writhing pink and purple flame in the other. He cast the orb at the profusely bleeding dragon, wrapping Spyro up and sending him soaring across the Skylands with the burst of fire to bleed to death far away from his little family.

-<🌀>-

Thrown books, scattered scrolls, and a wide assortment of relics littered Master Eon's cobblestone floor as Cynder frantically searched the entire place up and down. Spending a few seconds to check on Spyro won't hurt, she said. It won't kill anyone to make sure he didn't have to see what she was about to do, she said. Every second was increasingly precious, every second was ticking down to her death if she didn't find the Relics Room now.

Where is this fucking map!?

Cynder's whole body hissed with psionics, searching the area for any nervous systems. Every time she did this, she ran the risk of the radar-like pulse being noticed by the Portal Master, but she'd be doomed anyway if any Skylanders were approaching his office. She could feel their brain activity through the walls, but not well, the magical haze of every item in this place clouded her foresight. The sounds of fighting bursting out of the Arena slowed and stopped, ceasing to shake the island, meaning whoever was dumb enough to attack the Skylanders at their moment of ascendence was being disposed of. She had very little time to find this secret room and escape with the map to the Core of Light, or she'd be a bubbling puddle of liquid platinum seasoned with occursed ashes.

Her blood boiled as she continued pulling every book for a secret lever, scratching every wooden surface and cobble step for a pressure plate, and zapping every arcane focus and gem for a hidden sensor. She'd even gone as far as to ram the Portal Master's desk, finding nothing but paperwork on the Academy's budget and writing supplies; soon she'd be a lot more than boiled away. Cynder's shaking body flung around the building and her bright cyan eyes flashed down on a stone bust against the wall.

"WHERE IS YOUR DAMNED VAULT YOU SELF-RICHEOUS OLD GASBAG!?" She whisper-screamed into the statue's lifeless eyes, shaking it until it lurched back like it'd been punched. A rock hinge on the inside locked into place, lowering a now-empty and thoroughly tapped and scratched bookcase. BOOKCASE DOOR! FINALLY! Now that the previous layer had fallen away, she could feel the powerful magic exuding from the new bookcase. There was no way she could just blast through it.

Cynder dashed for the edge of the Portal Master's tower, looking for the wizard or his Skylanders. None of their neural networks were moving but one, one that was running extremely sluggishly, one moving far faster than its nerves. Were they asleep? She couldn't wait to see, she didn't know when he would return, and she couldn't do anything about-... What in the Crypts is that?

There was a big purple orb soaring through the air with a trail of fire coming out the end. Even through the Dark magic, she could feel the slower network inside of it. Was someone defeated? Who, besides her Father, got dogpiled by who knows how many Skylanders and managed to send one away? ...Unless it wasn't every Skylander. None of them felt like they were moving, she couldn't feel them going anywhere. What happened down there? Were they dead? They didn't feel dead, but very awake. There were only a few active minds she could feel, though they were very far away, and none of them felt like Spyro or the almighty Portal Master. All except for one.

Nope. No She told herself. Cynder just met him, there was no chance in all of Skylands she'd be dying for him. Not now, not ever. With her luck, she'd be the one assigned to kill him later. Her body was still shaking as she approached the second bookcase. This was what she came here for, this was what her life depended on, this was the only reason she was allowed a single extra day of breath in her lungs and a jump in her heart, this was the only reason there'd be a glass of water and food in her stomach if she returned. Spyro had nothing to do with this.

But if even the Skylanders were out of commission and someone would no doubt be coming for the Relics Room, too. She could keep them out of her hair and leech off of their success in opening the vault once she sent so much electricity through their spine that they'd be seizing up for a week. And possibly saving him from crashing into a random island was certainly one way to build trust.

Her metallic spikes and broad wings whistled and drummed through the air after the floating orb.

Chapter Text

He took a moment to relish the defeat of that annoying, infuriatingly resilient dragon before stepping out of the arena, turning his attention to the Portal Master's tower. The giant levitation crystal built into the body, tightly wrapped up by the spiral staircase, hummed with power and swirled with magic greater than most piles of gems he'd amassed within his entire lair. Turning it into Petrified Darkness or just stealing it was tempting, but that could wait until after he'd destroyed the Core of Light and stolen its power.

Once every part of that horrid artifact was at his knees, all of its eternal power was his for the taking, then all of Skylands would be scrambling to bend to his every whim. The Dark Master would be nothing but a winged lizard fluttering obnoxiously around his face and his Mother would be little more than a nagging voice in the background. With the power of the lost Ancients and the Arkeyans' abandoned empire, the Skylands themselves would be clay in his hands! Every string in the fabric of reality was soon to be his to tug and cut and stitch and recolor and completely remake from the ground up to his blackened heart's content!

And when the world finished mourning the passing of their precious Skylanders, he'd bring the Ancients back from the brink to reduce them to ash as well! Now, the only thing standing between him and becoming an Ancient in his own right was the Core of Light, that pathetic Portal Master's doom could wait until after his invasion of the Relics Room. Glaring at the peak of the tower, he blindly grabbed Glumshanks by the arm and warped up to the wall, not having the right angle to simply teleport onto solid ground. Darkness spread out and quickly vanished from around the walls, moving down to catch a yelling troll and lift him safely onto the balcony. Kaos himself was grappled to the side by a sword wedged into the concrete-filled crack between two stones.

He hopped up beside his minion in a cloud of shadows, looking out onto the completely devastated office. His dark lightning strikes were totally unrivaled if you ignored his Mother, but even this seemed a bit excessive for how little the island shook. Weathered tomes were strewn about the cobblestone floor, all the scrolls had been unraveled and looked like they'd been repeatedly stepped on, and multiple ceiling-high bookcases were knocked over. One had shattered to splinters and disheveled planks atop Eon's desk.

There was likely some thin scrolls or a janitor's closet of TP they could throw around, though. Otherwise, they'd find something else to further ruin the building with. He was not about to let the aftermath of an unrelated fight do more damage to the

-<🌀>-

Eon's staff was completely frozen solid. If he could just move a little bit, he could try to protect the Book of Skylanders until they could catch the Dark Portal Master, but the ice didn't offer an inch. The only movement available to the Portal Master came from some small gaps and imperfections in the frost. The flow of his magic was almost completely cut off, almost. That split-second decision to smack Spyro across the face with the Book instead of trying to swiftly create a barrier or shadow of Dark lightning might've been what kept Kaos's neck from being filled with long pearl teeth, along with very bloody and uncharacteristic fury for an Aspirant he directly raised, but it was a double-sided blade.

The ice about their upper bodies, while remaining frustratingly solid as the frost applied directly to the Book stayed intact, was loosened enough for Eruptor's magma to fill his case with steam and for Steal Elf's lapis hair to stand on end with static. His staff may have been restrained, but the cyan gem on his head could barely angle in the direction of the arena archway. It wasn't much at all and he was still far from Spyro, but it was the closest he could get.

"Spyro!" Master Eon called out to the void, hoping against all odds that the Elemental Paragon could hear him.

He could feel the young dragon's presence in the distance, rapidly shrinking away as his battered, sleeping body flew across the Skylands. "You must wake up! The fate of the Skylands depends on it!" The gem in his helmet grew brighter, stinging his eyes as it reflected through the light purple ice. The boy had yet to even stir. "Please, wake up! WAKE UP!" He begged.

Their connection was fading as fast as Spyro flew away, the sticky sensation of blood pouring out of fresh wounds in bright purple hide and along pinkish scrapes in his burnt scales. The bleeding wouldn't stop, but Spyro proved himself strong enough to seal his own cuts. There were few people better for the job, he just needed his boy to come back to life! "HURRY, SKYLANDER!" Eon telepathically screamed in a desperate, last-ditch effort to get the only remaining hero back in action. As he did, the world's only hope shuddered and flinched awake right before he was out of Eon's range.

-<🌀>-

Every single bone in Spyro's body ignited, his flesh felt like it was peeling off his tenderized muscles and letting his lightning-warped scales fall out of his withering hide. His nerves all melted and blood spilled out all at once. He couldn't breathe, his lungs couldn't inflate and his diaphragm wasn't moving. Were his eyes open? He couldn't tell if the dark was from the stabbing sting flashing up and down his head and tail at the speed of light or if he was just staring at the insides of his eyelids. Claws not his own fumbled and slid against the swirling mass of purple and black he was sealed within, he couldn't find any coordination or regain his footing.

Black smoke puffed out of his misaligned teeth as he choked on the Darkness. The way it swirled around him swept the talons out from under him, the way it sucked the air right out of his throat and chained up his limbs like dipping molten lead over his body, it all sapped away everything he was and had. His head was pounding feverishly, but at least he managed to lift it up after the initial shock. What was going on? How long had he been out? Had he failed?

He had to cover his bases first. It hurt like being thrown through a woodchipper, but he managed to draw in a breath and exhale a small flame. It swirled with the movement of the Dark orb and seared closed the bright red blood streaming down every part of his body. The rivers dripping between his scales and cracked chestplates clumped together and smoked while any little bits of makeup that hadn't been pressure-washed off by the Water Hydra, if there was any, was steamed off with the small bit of water still clinging coldly to his body.

The Dark sphere didn't let him see outside. Hopefully, he hadn't been flung any further than the borders of the town, but he couldn't hear the bustling Mabu. He hoped deep down that he was just too high up for their constant chatter to overpower the ringing in his ears. But ignoring that, he needed to get a hold on his own body, or he might just fall to his death the second he popped this bubble, let alone get back to the Castle. I can't do this I have to figure something out, a Skylander would quit whining like a little kid and get it together. Master Eon's counting on me. If I fail, all of Skylands dies with us.

Spyro pulled his wings up, using one to shove his body upright and the other to find the other end of the orb. The bone jutted against his skin as he found the other end and was forced to be level by the motion of the arcane cannonball. It was hard to tell if something broke through all the burning pain; turns out everything blends together after some point. His claws jittered as he forced his legs to work, getting them into a vaguely square shape and shoving upright. His cracked chest impacted the bottom a few times before he could get his other two legs to do the same, staying low and steady as he fought to get his other wing to push along the orb's curve without shaking and snapping out of place against the rushing shadows.

His eyes glossed over the thin, pale scars along his forelegs. His stomach churned but had nothing to give, he almost lost his footing again. No! Not now! His breathing grew out of control and his eyes lost their focus, but he couldn't close them. He had to keep his bearings, yet so much as standing here, if one could call this standing, was somehow worse than looking in the mirror. Keep looking forward, just ignore them, he told himself as if it had ever worked before. The cold, choked black air didn't take to his lungs as he fought to regain control of his breathing, he had to get a hold of himself but he couldn't even stop hyperventilating in the middle of a raid.

Bright orange flames with pitch black centers that ebbed and flowed against the orb's confines. The swirling black and violet miasma mixed with toxic black and dark gray smoke as his fire spewed out of control, boiling away his tears until his amber eyes were bloodshot red and charred the scabs filling his cuts. He wasn't powerful enough, he couldn't burn hot enough, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't good enough to break through the orb.

The whole prison shook and threw off his aim. Even as his eyes were trapped by the small scars on his forelegs and his breath pushed against his locked jaws, brilliant cyan lines of gleamingly powerful lightning sparked and crashed against the orb from the other. How far from the Castle had Spyro been flung? He hadn't heard the roaring winds or pelting rain through the shadows. Every strike of lightning glowed brighter and hit harder with each passing second, shaking the sphere harder and harder until there was no way for Spyro to tell which way was up or how much of his flames had burned through the Dark.

He instantly plummeted when light rushed in and the lingering shadows did everything in their greatly limited power to rip the last bit of oxygen out of his body. The bright lightning shot right above his head and grazed the tips of his sending small sparks bouncing off of his body and down his spinal ridges. They failed to catch any air, giving in to the sudden wind resistance immediately and folding behind his back.

Yet it was bright. Not a cloud heavy with rain or bursting with lightning was in sight. A set of sharp platinum claws caught him as he fell, crackling with electricity that jumped off of his battered, bloody scales. Cold air rushed against his wounds, stirred up by bony red wings as his entire skeleton jutted up, yanked into the sky as the smoke stuck to the roof of his mouth slipped down his tongue and fluttered down to the islands as if gravity inverted.

"You breath lightning?"

"You breath fire!?"

He and Cynder asked at the same time. Her bright blue eyes shot open and her flying faltered for a split second. But there was no time to discuss the intricacies and deep mysteries of their species. "I-I need to get back to the Castle!" Spyro wheezed and tried to reopen his wings, regretting it instantly as the muscles all pulled at the same time like they were peeling off his bones. Cynder shook off the shock and glanced over his shoulder. She swallowed and steeled her expression, then pressed her forehead to his.

The symbol on her forehead flashed pink and purple, specifically one of the smaller thirds of the circle. The tension and aches in his muscles faded fast, the sizzling blood painting his body and slithering between them flaked off like snow, and the scales warped by great damage rippled back to normal like they were as malleable as water. In the spots where his scales had completely fallen away, Dark purple hide twitched and stung as it was exposed to the open Skylands. He almost didn't mind getting his ankles broken again if it meant he could feel that every time. Cynder dove down, piercing the clouds with great speed before unfurling her wings. Spyro started to slip through her talons as she pulled up, finding time and room to spread his wings and ride her momentum back to the Castle.

-<🌀>-

Hex had her nose buried in a book, as per usual, while Roller Brawl absentmindedly doom-scrolled and refreshed her browser for the nth time in the last few minutes. Security drills were far from rare and obsessively practiced, but they generally didn't go on for this long. There was the occasional genuine incident often involving one of the more chaotic classrooms, such as all the alchemy experiment days with Professor Pop, but even then the alarm would fall and they'd just be told to steer clear of the affected areas for a little while. They were training to be Skylanders, most would be fine as long as nothing was on fire and the rest could walk right through untouched. Both started to think they'd missed a message or the announcer in the Undead section broke.

A flash of gold light beamed through the windows, blinding Roller Brawl into dropping her phone into her lap and rubbing her sensitive eyes as dust and sand covered the glass. There was a thud like someone tripping and frantic knocking at the door. The vampire was the first to the door, even though she had to put her running prosthetics on, which was also as usual. Less expected was the Portal Master covered in dirt, scrapes, and bruises throwing his fist at their door and almost hitting Roller Brawl on the forehead. It wouldn't have done much, even without her helmet, but neither of them would've heard the end of it had Food Fight not been called home to defend the Fruity Isles, probably from Trolls.

"SOMEONE ATTACKED THE CASTLE!" He yelled in her face, even the skater almost lost her balance and stepped back.

This was real? Hex shot out of her chair and tossed aside her book. "What happened?"

"S-Some guy named 'Kaos' crashed the graduation." He started to explain. Aaaaaaaand now a bomb's gonna go off.

Roller Brawl's face contorted into a sneer before she sprinted to her room. Meanwhile, Skull appeared by Hex's head. "What happened to the Skylanders?"

"Kaos froze the book-" He stumbled into their house. Crap "Spyro and I tried to get it back but he just kept making these stupid rifts and Darkness everywhere. The Skylanders are stuck, we need all the Aspirants!"

"Well, what're we gonna do against him-" Skull tried to push back, not without good reason. No matter how up-and-coming he was or the lack of a Portal of Power, a Portal Master was a Portal Master.

"Chill's not an Aspirant yet, but she was a Guard Captain before she came to the Skylanders. Same with Wind-Up, but he has experience against Cyclopses. And Bash should still be here." Roller Brawl rushed out with her helmet under her arm and strapping on one of her wrist blades. "Have you started making portals yet? He has to be after the Relics Room."

"No, I-I-" George fished around his shirt, pulling out a Portal of Power of all things. Chop Chop was the only one she knew to hold an Earth Portal. It's bad. "One of the Skylanders gave me this thing, but I don't know how to use it."

She'd yet to find the Undead magic equal, but the witch remembered fondly the feeling of blasting between islands across lines of golden light. Hex was no Portal Master, but she was and still is a mage to her necromancy-afflicted core. Her cold hands wrapped around his, clutching the Portal of Power in his grasp. "Okay, Bash's Element is Earth, you might've seen him. He's the big brown lizard with a mace for a tail. Think of the rocks there, hold the image in your mind and really want to go there, the Portal can do the rest while you learn. Roller Brawl and I can bring the others here before you send us to Eon's Keep."

George took a breath and closed his eyes. The Portal glowed with a wispy orange aether and cast a mix of incredibly small dirt particles and summoned pebbles. The magic swirled and wafted around his hands, then a rift tore open in the middle of their living room. It shook and wavered a little bit, but it would do. The rip widened and rift connected to the Earth side of the island. Hex stepped through first, not being the one trying to wade through sand and randomly placed rocks with a pair of sawblades on her legs. Roller was the one speedy but sure-footed enough to cross the ice and collect Chill, whoever collected their backup first could get Wind-Up and meet the other in time to protect the Relics Room.

-<🌀>-

Tons of streamers dangled from the wooden support beams across the ceiling and the few gigantic bookcases that stayed standing through his fight with the purple dragon were torn out of their wall mounts. He and Glumshanks stepped over the many splinters and casually walked along the old man's office. They had all the time in the world to search for the Relics Room, but that didn't mean Kaos wanted to linger; he'd had his fun, onto the next step in destroying the Core of Light and taking its power for himself. So many Elemental Sources ripe for the taking! And the artifacts connecting them to the Core! He'd be unstoppable! He just needed to make sure nobody else got their hands on the map.

Neither of them had to look for long to find something amiss. There was a bust near the top of the multi-leveled room, one they'd passed multiple times during their little party. He'd assumed it was broken at the time and brushed it off, but there was an obvious hinge tucked into the back of the Portal Master's neck. Setting aside it being terrible design to use rough, grinding, cracking stone for a hidden lever tucked into a bust that would be tough to take apart, repair, and put back together without leaving seams in the sides, he grabbed it by the beard and moved it around.

It controlled a basic moving bookshelf built into the wall, one that he wasn't sure led to anything. The levitating part of the tower looked pretty rounded from the outside, lacking any blocky protrusions suggesting a secret room anywhere. Then again, creating a well-guarded and obscured pocket dimension was far from beyond his or Eon's capabilities; he used them to house his automated minions all the time and was loosely aware the Skylanders lived under similar conditions, though the secrets of how their houses were built and moved were better kept than those of his impossible-to-hide factories.

The first layer didn't appear to have anything of interest, the books were of no greater substance than the rest of the Portal Master's admittedly grand and comprehensive library of unearthed arcana and lost rituals of exaltation. Yet the second layer, while just as unassuming and densely stocked as all the rest, was full of intrigue, and not for its contents. What was repeated caught his attention; all the books on the shelves were just copies of the rest of Eon's library. Some of the more valuable tomes, yes, but copies just the same, a bunch of props to divert the suspicion of the inattentive.

He hadn't come this far to overlook tiny details, though. As odd as he found a weighty stone bust flicking open just from a light island quake, or the old wizard's pathetic Mabu forgetting to close the secret chamber properly, he wasn't about to look a gift sheep in the mouth and didn't doubt he could simply dispose of the real culprit should they show their face again. Kaos brushed his fingertips along the tops of the books. Many were real, but the pages of many others were clearly just cardstock filling out the faux-leather binding fastened by cheap, often mismatched strings for the sake of appearances.

With a rush of his hand moving up to his face, Kaos yanked all the tomes off the shelf in one Dark surge. They scattered across the ground and many of their pages fell out, some of the bindings bouncing off Glumshanks's shoes as he walked up behind the Dark Portal Master. No secret levers were pulled, which was a little disappointing, but only one obviously fake book remained. It was attached directly to the wall, he could see the faint curve of the seam where the wood jutted forward and was covered by a thin leather cover to make it blend in. He tugged the book, figuring Eon might've been foolish enough to have multiple seemingly tough but easy-to-crack stone mechanisms, but it wasn't a clockwork machine guarding the next secrets.

It was then he spotted the smooth, deep red gem in the center. The decoration was scratched with some small fingerprints on the front, real gems wouldn't scratch so easily. If something with claws strong enough to scratch a gem swiped at that 'book,' then there wouldn't be a gem left. Nothing happened when he pressed it, but pushing a secondary 'gem' closer to the bottom of the book triggered a flash of light to run down Kaos's face.

"User not recognised." Stated a robotic voice.

Let's see... Kaos hummed. He had to reach up pretty far to investigate the book, it was a lot closer to Eon's height and this was his office. He snapped his fingers and turned as a long shot popped into his head. "Glumshanks! The beard-cicle." He outstretched a hand. Glummy produced the yet-to-be-framed hunk of ice and bright white hair from his vest and forked it over. Kaos held it in front of his face and tapped the button again.

"Welcome, Master Eon." The light scanned and greeted. The second bookcase vault and a set of steel doors slowly cracked open down the middle.

Inside was a dark, curving staircase down to a room that didn't exist when observed from the outside of the tower, the Relics Room, but his triumphant exploration would have to wait. Kaos swept Glumshanks behind the stone bust, feeling the rippling of space a second before a brown and orange rift of dirt and pebbles popped into existence. They were a quartet of last-ditch heroes trying to throw him out of the very Castle he now owned. Three were at least unfamiliar: a brown Earth Drake covered in spikes with a pair of angry red eyes, a metal wind-up toy, and an armored Frost Elf bearing a suit clearly of the Ice Kingdom; a set worthy of royalty, even.

Beside them, though were the fallen Light Witch and his first celebrity crush, of all people. Don't I have her brothers buried somewhere? He blinked at the ex-roller derby champion like someone slapped him a split second before she rushed forward, much to the dismay and protests of the rest of her little gaggle of desperate Aspirants and Protophytes. They reached out hands and told a pair of deaf ears to wait as she skated on a set of massive, sharp sawblades. Adapting to the sudden attack, the Ice Knight threw a spiraling, double-sided javelin at his face at the same time as the vampire's quick, momentum-powered double-stab with her four long wristblades.

Each hit was easily stopped by a shimmering purple barrier, the weapons' tips only getting about half an inch through the hasty and thin shield. "WHERE ARE MY BROTHERS!?" Roller Brawl screamed with raging fire in her voice and frustrated tears in her eyes. Well, that answers that.

Kaos made the 'I don't know' noise, getting her to draw out her fangs and resort to headbutting, punching, and kicking his shield over and over. She looked like an animal bashing against its cage for food just out of its claws' reach as he reinforced his shield against the attack. How did I fall for her? Just looks and being a dumb kid spending way too much on 'the one that got away,' he supposed. While the slayer of the Dark Master spent her time preparing a bright spell, the Ice knight summoned a pair of double-javelins, and the Earth Drake reared back on his hindlegs before rolling forward like a boulder, Kaos released his shield. If they wanted to get through so badly, let them.

The wave sent the drake off-course into a wall, deflected the ice javelins, threw off the vampire's outburst, and he was sure to mix in a basic spell-parry to get rid of the ray of light Hex was preparing. The Earth Drake was as weak as the rest, but tough, so he pressed the advantage by shoving it down one of the holes in the tower's flooring. "NOT AGAAAAAAAAINNNNNNNN!!!" He yelled as he plummeted easier than Kaos expected.

Rolling his eyes, Kaos produced the Book of Skylanders from his cloak. He liked it cold, so he kept a small chilling enchantment on his robes. Every individual page was still frozen solid. The Skylands' new monarch was not getting wrapped up in another fight with a bunch of meaningless souls so hilariously far beneath him that they couldn't even match the strength of a single purple dragon's teeth when throwing all of their bodyweight into one of the simplest defensive spells he knew.

"It seems I overestimated you," He mocked Hex. "Capable of downing the self-proclaimed Dark Master when you stood in the light, but can't even become a Skylander without it." Her face fell and the pathetic skull familiar tried to mount a rebuttal, but they didn't even get that far before another bolt of black lightning chained between them. Though less familiar with the Ice Knight, he knew the Ice Kingdom's devastating loss to the cyclops branch of Malefor's armies. "Tell me, what became of your precious Queen?"

His new target reacted with a battle cry and several pillars of ice, easily stopped in their tracks with the Book of Skylanders. Her wave of ice cracked but held strong enough to push him back just a little, confirming that she had plenty of combat experience before applying to the Skylanders. She realized what she'd done too late, he already had a barrier between himself and Roller Brawl just tough enough to be inconvenient to maneuver around or break. He poured Darkness into the tome, searching its contents with an Arcane Eye manifested directly in the middle of its infinite and ancient pages for their two new additions.

Pulling their power from the Book, tainted by shadows, a glowing red Lava Elemental and green Forest Elf with eyes blazing with anger slowly took shape. If only the dragon had given him enough room to summon some help, too, he could've been in and out by now. But this colorful band couldn't even pass the Final Trials, let alone compete with those who got Eon's seal of approval. Kaos turned his back on the bunch, not even giving them the time of day to order his new minions to charge, and waved to Glumshanks to follow him into the Relics Room. They were done here, it was time to claim his prize.

-<🌀>-

She could only hope George was on his way up the massive staircase to Eon's tower, because his shields were going to be the only defense she remotely concerned herself with. Every muscle in Roller Brawl's body would be spent pummeling that stalker to a pulp until he choked out where her brothers were through a mouthful of blood. It didn't matter how much of her own blood, sweat, and tears it took, it didn't matter if it took her life, she was getting them back.

The mirage of Stealth Elf was about to jump into Chill, but the echo of Eruptor was closer to her. Seeing red both right in front of her and in her mind, she struck at him with a flurry of claw swipes and spinning kicks. While his stubby legs were far from speedy, as seen the day prior, he was shockingly quick to the punch with his arms. The blobs flew through the air in front of her, effortlessly absorbing every hit like she was naught but a little girl stomping on a volcano. The lava bubbled and swelled, bursting out of his limbs like boiling water. The intense heat drove her away for only a second before she rushed in blindly again. She would not be stopped when Kaos was right in her grasp!

Roller gave the Lava Elemental her all, slashing and sawing through his tough, rocky exterior like her life depended on it. Molten red cut marks covered his arms, quickly being refilled by the revealed magma before he lightly nudged away one of her heavier attacks. Even the small bit of force on his part sent her a good distance away, but it was enough for her to burst back into the fray with a dash attack. Streaks of purple energy burrowed into his arms as he held them vertically in front of his body, crashing against his defense so hard she shook the cobble floors, but there was only so much an Undead could do against a Fire Skylander. When she ran out of breath and barely stumbled, not losing her incredible balance but being far from steady, a wicker grin grew across his superheated features.

A series of pale gray light strings wrapped around her waist and yanked her away from the Lava Elemental, and away from her prize, right before a massive waterfall of lava exploded out of his toothy jaws. The floor bubbled, pooled, and sprouted mini-volcanoes. Fire coated the ground in its entirety, though that didn't stop Roller Brawl from ferally swiping at Hex's strings and trying again. A black and green foot spun and slammed its heel on top of her skull-shaped helmet, then another plowed into her chest, kicking off of her to lunge at Chill. Had those two been fighting the whole time? She didn't know or care as Skull rushed to her other side, lifting her upright just before she fell into the smoldering lava. Even a new Life Skylander was enough to bruise her ribs through her armor.

The copy of Stealth Elf twisted in mid-air, weaving around a javelin and between a pair of ice pillars to curl around their impromptu partner like a snake. Chill choked and gasped, flung back by the force of the Dark Forest Elf (does that count as a Drow?) tightly bending her legs around her throat and leaning like she was doing a backflip over the railing. One of the copy's dragon fang daggers latched onto the wooden guard as she sent Chill hurdling over the edge, then she teleported behind Skull, punching him away and dodging a swipe from Roller. With another teleport, she blasted a green cloud in the vampires face as she sliced at Hex.

While the Undead Elf covered her face and gained a lot of deep gashes in her forearms, the short-lived cloud of green mist faded in time for Roller Brawl to see Eruptor sucker punch her square in the gut. Flame slid across her armor as she scraped across the stone floor, stopping painfully suddenly against the rails blocking the long drop down to the courtyard. Hex was too preoccupied trying to create a bone barrier to get the other elf off of her to stop the Lava Elemental from throwing a fireball at the vampire.

She was prone on the ground, forced to try in vain to block until another fireball collided with it. The flames scattered in an upright circle right in front of her face, then split apart like a Supercharger burst through them. A spiral of reds and oranges swirled after the walking volcano's shade, barely pausing to send another fireball through the witch's bone barrier and catch the ninja off guard. Hex got the opening she needed to raise one of the bones from its summoning circle and hurl it into Stealth Elf's side, and Spyro's talons skidded across the floor. He powered through the fading lava on the floor, speedily ducked beneath a quick and brutal punch, violently latched his teeth onto the lifting leg the Lava Elemental stepped into its punch with, and bent it back so he could lock his horns around Eruptor's upper arm.

His stance shot, the copy wavered and tripped on the dragon's spiked wing. Spyro almost smashed his face into the floor as he yanked his horns out of the copy's arm and positioned them under the shadow's chest, goring the specter. His legs gave out from under him for a second, but Eruptor made the mistake of trying to stop his fall, giving Spyro the slack to regain his stability and stab the tips of his wings between the cobble. Like a wrestler, he strained every torn muscle in his body to fling the giant blob of magma and anger over his head, it shattered like glass and released a thick puff of Dark smoke as it died.

Winded and hurt before he even got here, Spyro huffed and trembled. Still, he knew how his teammate operated, knew how good she was at using the smallest bits of cover to mask her movements and launch fatal counters. He blasted a small flame through the smoke, not catching the elf off guard enough to do damage but baiting her into dodging. She loved to evade to her right; she was pretty ambidextrous but favored her right hand enough that she often dashed that way to wind up a big hit or feint into a shoulder-roll to get into a better position. He tricked her into doing the latter again, shooting a small puff before exhaling a huge torrent in front of her dodge.

The light cracked her form and sent her flying beside Roller Brawl, who gladly whipped around to drive her sawblade into the false Stealth Elf's jugular, finishing the job. Hex's arms dripped with dark red, rotten blood as she stumbled towards Roller Brawl, whose prosthetic sawblades wouldn't cooperate. The contents of her stomach very nearly purged as she clutched her burning gut. Her head was pounding and dizziness blurred her vision. She didn't have a concussion now, did she?

Spyro took a minute to steady himself as Hex attempted to cast a healing spell, but it was a light spell no longer afforded to her. The backfire sent a good amount of the elf's vitality into him, the injuries down her arms looked infected (for an Undead, at least) and she limped over to the vampire.

"Is George coming?" Spyro asked. They nodded. "Get down to the library, there should be a white gem built into the East wall." He winced as he lied through his teeth, directing them toward the opposite end of the long, winding maze of shelves for a prize that he didn't actually know the purpose of off the top of his head. "It's a Darkness ward. George and I can keep Kaos talking, get it and come back." Take your sweet time, you don't need to see this.

Hex seemed to know he was just getting them far away from the Dark Portal Master and his Fire Hydra, whether or not she was aware of that specific conjuration, but didn't say anything as she ushered Roller Brawl down the stairs. This entire situation was just one big last-ditch effort to keep the Skylands safe; when all was said and done, islands were cheaper than the dirt most were made of, the people were irreplaceable while Skylanders knew what they signed up for and were just expensive. The air chilled and shadows crawled along the walls as he dragged himself to the Relics Room door. He could feel the rush of Cynder's healing trick flow through his body, but only a little bit and he couldn't tell where she went. Hadn't she followed him? She definitely gave him a boost but now he couldn't find her.

-<🌀>-

"Glumdog, how much bling is too much bling?" Kaos asked the real question as he slipped a golden ring studded with an emerald onto his index finger, another one of many golden loops and gems lining his knuckles and covering his wrists as he wandered through the piles of treasure, scrolls, and poorly lit walls for the map.

"One can never have too much bling, sir." The troll smiled as he donned one of the two crowns with red velvet caps they'd found stacked on top of some stacks of coins and lines of clip-on earrings from the bases to the tips of his triangular ears.

He'd set the Book of Skylanders aside, resting it atop a pedestal so he could dig through the priceless clutter with both hands. The pair had shoveled aside entire piles of gold coins, flicked through ancient tomes with pages barely held together by an abundance of ancient and new Unbreaking enchantments alike. The light above the Book's pedestal reflected off the purple ice, shining dimly over the walls. On one, clipped at the corner by the purple shine, sat an oddly simple and insignificant frame compared to those covering the rest of the walls.

It was flanked by some sufficiently detailed frames, many of which belonged to crystal mirrors radiating magic he didn't have the patience to find the purposes of, not when he paid close attention to the simple gold bars lining a sheet of aged paper. The final layer of security protecting the Core of Light was camoflage; a frame shiny enough to blend in with the mountains of glistening gold trinkets, yet bland and unpolished enough to be drowned out by the sea of riches beneath and surrounding it. The cyan symbol on his forehead flashed like a camera, carving a flawless image of the map into his memory.

If the Core was half as durable as the Book of Skylanders, then all he needed now was to decode the dated markings and figure out how to dismantle it. The map to the Core of Light was securely locked in its deceptively simple but tough frame, but the one to the Quicksilver Vault was a lot less severely guarded. He could finish his pet project back home, possibly finding some more Elemental Sources on his way to complete domination, then incorporate the Core's components into his own power.

A thud echoed behind him as that same purple dragon landed on a smaller pile of gold. The coins clinked as they scattered and some began melting together between his talons. "You were supposed to be out of my way you insufferable lizard!"

"My name-" The dragon huffed and choked, trying to growl in frustration while summoning the last of his strength. His chest and other features burning bright as orange flames glowed through his scales and claws. "is Spyro."

Kaos scowled as Glumshanks found a treasure chest to hide in. Both figures unleashed blasts of magic. Dark lightning drank the Relic Room's low light as blazing fire ignited it. Spyro's talons melted into the stone floor, cementing his footing as his wings flared out, spreading crackling flames and floating embers. about the tight cobblestone room. The troll could only hope the chest he hid in was enchanted with some form of Fire Resistance as he pulled the lid closed on top of him. It rattled and heated as the clashing fire and Darkness snapped across the room, both sides losing and gaining ground in rapid succession. Spyro's fire breath switched between a wide cone blocking off all of the black lightning strikes splitting off the main blasts and a tighter stream better for pushing back Kaos's advancements, relying on the bursting epicenter of energy that dispersed their lightning and fire to keep the pressure low.

He at last started pushing back against the Dark Lord, keeping careful control of his lungs. The more fire he swirled around him, the stronger his power became; he lightly and quickly flapped his wings to fan the flames, doing his best to pull in more oxygen from his surroundings. Gold melted and fused with the stone as the heat rapidly increased on his side of the vault, yet plummeted on Kaos's end. The Dark Portal Master's frigid lightning greedily sucked all the energy and light it could, sapping the strength of the dragon's attack to the best of its ability, which only forced the Aspirant to further flap his bright orange bellows and step closer to the clash.

Though his wing membranes ignited brighter than ever, his talons' fire grew up his lower legs, the spikes of his wings flared and the fire spun ahead like extending speartips, the tip and sides of his segmented tail curled like a burning trident, and the tips of his fangs all hissed like rushing winds as the fire grew. Even still, his breath was running out faster than normal. Almost all of his ribs had been bruised or broken, flashing with pain as the fires shook his whole body, but he did everything in his power to keep up the barrage. It wasn't enough, he wasn't enough, he was too weak to be a Skylander and couldn't even stop one intruder with home-field advantage.

Cold purple light grew on the other side of the infernal tempest as Kaos clenched one of his fists, slowly growing a huge cursed flame. Instead of throwing it directly into the middle of Spyro's final, desperate push, he tossed it to the ground at their feet. The purple fire blasted, the edges of the fireball easily reaching the caster and opponent. It wrapped harmlessly around the troll's hiding spot and the Dark Lord while sending treasures flying across the vault and singing the dragon's scales, but the shallow wounds vanished in a dim flash of pink light. The boost didn't save him, the force of the explosion compressed the air around them, shaking the dragon's fractured ribcage and reseparating his cracked chestplates.

Air knocked out of his lungs, Spyro wheezed pathetically as his frill and horns drew in all of the dispersed fire, the rush of light accidentally pulling the cursed flames along gathering them together in an orange and purple blast that only pushed forward about a foot into Kaos's storm. His energy spent, the Dark lightning shot through his swiftly weakening flames and sparking down more of his scales. Spyro rolled along the cobblestone and slammed against the bottom of the staircase.

A plume of purple smoke and shadow with bright, narrow cyan eyes swirled in front of the map to the Core of Light while Kaos was distracted by his ego and Spyro was incapacitated, a circle of psionics flashing it like a camera. Her mission complete, Cynder faded into the Darkness behind the troll, just in case. She could just leave while she had the chance, Malefor was more than powerful enough to simply crush the Core by himself, but she'd followed the only other Elemental Paragon she could find thus far.

Some small black scabs littered the stairs, launched off of the wyrm's body and allowing dragon blood to flow freely. It levitated and flowed into a swirling purple portal for later use, a quality ingredient no matter the purpose and potential Quicksilver substitute until he got around to snatching a bottle from under the dormant Arkeyans' magi-mechanical noses. With the dragon downed again, he returned to the Book of Skylanders. Time to finish this-

The dragon bashed his shoulder against the wall, making a crack in one of the stone with shockingly little force and grabbing a lever hidden in the shadows. A field of lightning clasped around Kaos's arm right as he pulled the tome away from its pedestal. Glumshanks tried to approach, freezing as he had no way to pull his master out of the electricity and being knocked over by the air pressure and wing of the dragon throwing himself from the wall.

Spyro crashed into Kaos, pushing both of them into the field. They growled and spasmed, lashing out at each other to get free and to keep the Dark Lord trapped in the forcefield. The bright lightning grew stronger as the voltage progressively increased, needing far more power to throw off the increased mass of the spell's trigger, the dragon's sturdy stance, and all the weight being driven directly into the ruthless ward. When it finally threw the pair to the floor and buried them in piles of gold, only one got up on shaky feet.

"Eon was right... Never gets old."

He huffed and puffed as he was forced to use the tips of his wings to support himself. His tail trailed limply behind him and clattered against the cracks in the cobble and the mixed puddles of molten gold and rock. Pink energy again did its best to replenish his strength and clean off the blood seeping down his scales. With blurry vision, he trembled as he placed a paw against one of the gold piles and started digging for the Book of Skylanders, getting it flung at his face with great speed by a black and purple miasma.

The shadows tightly coiled up his limbs like they were running razors along his scales. They smothered his wing membranes, drowning the fire he tried to muster. Not that it did Kaos any good, the most he could spew was a few embers before another tendril of Darkness wrapped around his snout. "NO ONE ELECTROCUTES KAOS!" The Portal Master hissed. Freezing-cold pain shot through his scales and ran along his bones whenever he tried to find the strength to move. Can you hear me? ...I don't know if you can hear me. He thought, unsure how aware of his thought the Mystic was while his vision started to fade, the last thing he sees being Kaos wasn't exactly on his bucket list. ...You can get out if you want, I understand, I won't be mad... Thank you for coming with me, I'm glad I got to see another of my kind... I think you can survive after the Core of Light. Please look after Elfie and Eruptor.

She could go.

She could ditch the Skylanders, ditch Kaos, ditch the Core of Light, ditch Spyro.

But then again, Malefor was expecting the map to the Core when she got back. How much better would one of them destroying the Core be than the other? How much more time would Malefor getting to the Core buy her as opposed to Kaos? If the little dweeb got away, his portal magic would surely let him outpace her father, and then he'd at least be able to pose a threat. It wouldn't be much, but allowing Kaos to get away with a capture of the map would somewhat level the playing field. And when that happened, her services would be so much more valuable to Malefor, he wouldn't be as keen to incinerate her for a failure or two.

So it was decided, wasn't it? He was just another dragon, just another Aspirant, and one that clearly had the skills necessary to become a Skylander; he would become her worst enemy, easily. But he was an Elemental Paragon, the only other Elemental Paragon she knew of, even though he breathed fire. How did their kind work? Why were they so absurdly rare? The best warriors come in pairs. Cynder justified herself, mentally cataloguing her spells. No better way to get stronger, to become more useful, than a friendly rival; better yet, one who remained completely ignorant to her missions and was happy to exchange answers for answers.

You can protect them yourself.

Monsoon was a decent option, but she couldn't charge and cast it without giving herself away and Kaos instinctively used lightning against Spyro. He might have a copper defensive item hidden in his cloak. Not to mention Spyro, somehow a fire dragon despite being the same species, might die. She needed to get him back up before she did anything about the Dark Lord, she could try dual-casting a low-end blood sacrifice and something with Lifesteal while the Portal Master's back was turned. He looked like he could use some extra blood right now, anyway. ᛋᚫᛝᚢᛁᚾᛖ᛫ᛋᚫᚳᚱᛁᚠᛁᚳᛖ, ᛁᚾᚠᚢᚱᛏ᛫ᛖᛚᛖᛗᛖᚾᛏᛋ she slightly strained her arcana to cast silently and slowly, making small puffs of Dark smoke burst out of her disappeared body that brightened to red as it gradually flowed through the cracks and ripples in the heated stone.

She charged her breath as she seeped through the piles of gold and ancient relics, lightly exhaling a cloud into a dark corner covering a delayed blast fireball with an Invert Elements effect as she made her escape. Her lightning burst out of the cloud, conveniently the same color as the Book's pedestal's protection. Kaos's body shook with electricity again and his high-pitched voice seized mid-gloat as she reformed behind the corner of the stairs. Cynder slapped her platinum talons over her muzzle as quickly and quietly as she could. DON'TLAUGHDON'TLAUGHDON'TLAUGHWHYISEVERYTHINGSOFUNNYWHENINEEDTOBEQUIET!?

Kaos frantically looking between the pedestal and the lever didn't help, she could sense the fast, confused motions of his brain flicking between either side of his body and all his neurons firing as he tried to process what happened. Even his precious little troll's nerves in his arms shot as he peeked out of the chest and shrugged. When they were finished and the dragon blood merged into Spyro's scales, he froze the ward's lever into the off position and wound up to hit Spyro again.

The faltering dragon's eyes shot open and his head snapped upward, smacking Kaos up the chin as the heavy book fell on his wing. Stealth Elf and Eruptor were in that tome, Master Eon was in that tome, Skylands was in that tome. The Darkness around his face fell away as he forced his jaws open and blasted the Book of Skylanders directly. It could take a wave of cursed flames, it should be just fine against dragon fire and protected by a thick layer of ice. Boiling water and hot steam filled the Relics Room as Cynder subtly made her getaway. Glumshanks covered himself with the lid of the chest again and Kaos fought not to yank his hand away from the searing hot water. He tried to cover his hand with a small barrier but the heat remained great enough to free the book in an instant.

Most of it remained coated in a cracked and watery slush, but the front binding became free. Not knowing what else to do, he launched a bolt into Spyro's throat, stopping the flames while he burned the tome with cursed fire and inverted the spell, refreezing it (along with his hand) in a bunch of deep purple streaks that he happily bashed into the dragon's skull like a mace. The dragon went down again, the repeated head-trauma FINALLY catching up to him as he fell to the floor with a groan. Kaos reshaped the ice, securing the Book of Skylanders.

His eye twitched as he looked down at the dragon. "I am so burying you alive." Kaos growled while clutching the book. His freed hand swirled with Darkness, grabbing the energies of several more Skylanders from each Element. Never know when he might need to summon some more minions.

-<🌀>-

One second was all he needed.

The Book of Skylanders was a powerful artifact indeed, but it was a ritual item, not a fraction the spellcasting focus his staff was. He was fortunate enough to reach Spyro before he was out of range of the tome, but Eon didn't get through the Great War on luck. As the ice entombing them thinned and cracked, he shot his staff to the sky. Its bright cyan gem shone with power, covering the Book of Skylands in a thin film just before it was refrozen.

They were covered in a light dusting of corrupted frost for a short moment, but the protection worked. Eruptor gladly burst out of his prison in a rain of lava, shards scattered as Chop Chop and the Earth Skylanders broke free with pure muscle, and Stealth Elf's cage turned green as she teleported out. One by one, the Skylanders burst free, all absolutely seething to the point he could feel the Book of Skylands overflowing with their burning rage.

A rage that this time he would oblige, spreading his icy arms as he cast a net of magic across them all.

-<🌀>-

George's legs burned as he ascended the staircase. Bash and Chill followed him, both hurt but plucked out of the air to the best of his ability. It resulted in them each falling down some stairs and tripping him, but it was better than trying to get to the top and face Kaos alone. The Dark Lord in question was followed by the goblin, both dragging Spyro by the wings out of what he guessed to be the Relics Room. He lifted his fists, Chill raised a pair of javelins, and Bach prepared his spiked tail.

Before either side could react, a beam of light struck in the center of the Portal Master's office, bringing several large, armed, very pissed off Skylanders and Master Eon with it.

"Are we late?" Terrafin smirked George's way.

"Fashionably." He huffed. Now they join in.

Kaos blinked and looked at the frozen book, eyeing a faint shimmer between its pages and the ice until a light blue portal appeared, letting Eon snatch it right out of his grasp. Stealth Elf and the Death Knight, fire blazing in their eyes, dashed for the Dark Portal Master with blades and shield in hand. He did his best to defend himself and his minion with a violet barrier. It managed to block the Forest Elf's smaller strike but the knight's massive blade effortlessly crashed through the Darkness. His shield slammed between the two, whizzing over the ninja's head and breaking their temples as she blinked behind them and warped Spyro out of their grasp.

With the dragon well out of their way, the other Skylanders flung varying attacks at the Portal Master. Darkness swelled and disappeared extremely quickly as he warped to the other end of the room, trying to jump off the roof with the goblin and teleport somewhere else, but Master Eon prevented their escape with a portal, dropping them back in the middle of the room. Another flash of light blinded both of them, followed by the hilt of a golden sword and a shining artifact smacking them on the heads.

They stumbled as the figure, a Human girl clad in a white suit of armor with darker sleeves and a helmet similar to Eon's, twirled a relic like the one thrown in George's chest and a golden sword that curved like a snake. She pocketed the bright Portal of Power and summoned a second, identical sword from a beam, working with Eon to flank the Dark Lord. Barbella and Terrafin vaulted over a staircase to her side, the big red bodyguard and skunk Skylanders remained by Eon, the cyan alligator drew his crystal bow from the backline, and Eruptor and Stealth Elf positioned themselves between the enemy and Spyro. Chill lightly pushed George back with the blunt side of a double-javelin before she and Bash protectively stood in front of him.

Kaos glanced at them all for just a second before the girl in white tried to slash at him, pulling a bright purple crystal from his cloak. Miasma filled the room instantly, not at all like the rough black gem he'd used in the arena. The Skylanders were pushed back by the toxic haze. Barbella smashed her weight into the cobblestone floor for support, Terrafin did the same with his spiked knuckles, and the Human covered in bright white armor was forced to cancel her attack to form an X with her blades, pushing all of her weight into the surge of Darkness just to keep her footing.

Stealth Elf grabbed Spyro at the last second and pulled him behind Eruptor, whose stubby legs and massive lava blobs plowed into the ground, melting and melding with the rock while making the rapidly heating spikes atop his head glow with fiery energy almost as glistering as the rage in his yellow eyes. Eon covered himself with a cyan dome speckled with golden light. The skunk dashed behind the wizard while the giant red muscle man and light blue lizard covered themselves with their crystal weapons, glowing and buzzing with light and magic as the shadows impacted them. The alligator was pressed against the wall, but the bodybuilder held his ground by kicking a foot back against the railing.

Bash rolled in front of George as Chill stabbed her spears in front of her, creating a line of glaciers in front of them as he shielded them in gold and swirling dirt. The new gem, whatever horrible power it possessed, hissed and whispered secrets in a strange, hushed yet bellowing, audibly and somehow visibly abyssal yet equal-parts draconic, infernal, and malevolent. Hearing it felt like something was trying to wrap chains around his heart and lungs, crawl through his veins, and latch onto his nerves. Was the sound of a massive dragon's roar and twisted flames, several times Spyro's size and firepower, real or coming from the rush of violet light shining across the entire tower?

Suffocating smoke, acidic miasma, and unnerving purple sparks fluttered around the destroyed bookshelves, shattered cobblestone, and Eon's flipped desk, lasting far longer than the shadows Kaos commanded alone or with the smaller corrupt rock but still crumbling under the Portal Master and the girl in white's bright white and gold light spells. She tried to slash and stab again, dividing the last of the lingering cloud, but her twin blades cut through nothing. Kaos and his goblin had already warped away; they'd gone far enough that nobody heard the crash of the ending rift's excess energy, nor did they see the massive wave of Darkness resulting from his favored Element against the bright blues and vibrant greens backdropping their surroundings. Whereas George struggled to move around the arena and Castle with some sort of magic item consistently, Kaos and Eon had traversed the lengths of entire islands on their own, not to mention the former used nothing but a glorified ornament to completely vanish from sight.

Interrupting the hopelessness, the girl in white suddenly threw her composure out the window. "EVERY SINGLE TIME!" Her face contorted with rage and her knuckles turned as white as her armor. "HOW DOES HE ALWAYS GET AWAY!?"

Eon awkwardly tried to de-escalate. "Now, Aurora, defeating a Portal Master is no small feat, you did more than enough."

'Aurora' leered at the wizard, sharing his jawline, eyes, and large nose, though they all gritted and flared wildly compared to the reserved old man. "Don't patronise me."

Are they related or not? "Forgetting something?" George pointed to the dragon.

Chapter Text

Kaos's back plowed several inches through solid rock and dense dirt, protected only by his warded cloak and the remainder of the massive warp-dash. Soil flew through the air and landed on the Dark Portal Master in clumps that got in his mouth and eyes. The purified piece of Petrified Darkness he'd found had split in two from the immense power flowing through it and its glow dimmed, but it would be easy to repair and enhance once he brought it back to his lair. For now, he needed a minute.

Nothing would've stopped the Portal Master's little niece from striking him if Glumshanks wasn't there. One target; one hit leading into a mighty follow-up, one that wouldn't allow him to draw the crystal and make his escape. Two, however, no matter their power, brought an instinctive change in tactics that saved both their skins from Cloudcracker Prison. It wouldn't have made a difference in any other situation, it was a small shift in tactics ingrained in every Skylander from the beginning of their first Cadet year to their Neophyte finals. But their intense training, incredibly precise strategies, and overwhelmingly detailed maneuvers blew up in the Skylanders' faces. Aurora's lack of familiarity with the troll and inability to tell his abilities at a glance gave them an opening. An opening any Elite wouldn't have afforded them, but an opening nonetheless.

"Glummy?" Kaos panted through coughing up grainy puffs of dirt.

The troll forced himself to sit up, his vest lacking the protective magics Kaos's cloak bore but having gone through worse in the crossfire of Kaos's experients plenty of times. "Yes, sir?"

"I've... reconsidered the help you've given me, and I might be willing to negotiate a raise or change in your conditions." The Dark Lord swallowed back some bile.

Glumshanks blinked and looked down to the tyrant before standing upright. He groaned and his back popped as he steadied himself on the side of the shallow crater their arrival to a small, unremarkable, and unpopulated island created. "That would be greatly appreciated." He held out a green hand to help Kaos to his feet and climb out of the crater. "But I believe we should postpone it until the Skylanders can't trace us."

"Agreed." Kaos huffed. "But I reserve the right to use you as a shield when my experiments explode." He stated firmly.

"I figured." Glumshanks deadpanned and started for the edge of the island furthest from the Castle.

-<🌀>-

"You've completed your mission."

"Yes, King Malefor." Cynder insisted.

Upon a page between her claws was burned the map to the Core of Light. Spyro got out alive, Kaos would be pulling away her Father's attention, and Eugenie would be none the wiser. Somehow she'd pulled it off at the last second, somehow she claimed a memory capture of the map while Kaos's back was turned and Spyro was defeated, somehow she was alive and standing untouched before the Dark Master. No flames were pouring out of his maw with the speed to outrun any Supercharger, no claws were slashing through her scales like they were made of fine sand. Somehow she was alive, and it was only further downhill from here.

"And what of the Petrified Darkness?"

A chill sped through her spine. Her one shortcoming. What did he want to hear? Could she give it to him? What was she supposed to say? He'd know if she was lying, he'd be expecting the crystal if she tried to tell him what he wanted. "I-I swear to you, I wasn't able to salvage the gem."

"Yet that pathetic whelp could put it together just fine."

Cynder tilted her head, trying to keep her stern and emotionless composure as the ancient fire dragon pressed the issue. "Father?"

"You failed to even return the ashes to my lair, yet a blast of Darkness came from and landed away from the Skylanders' Castle."

"I gift to you an artifact grown and crafted to flawlessness, and not only do you squander it in an instant, against a mere Initiate, no less, but such power is allowed to fall intact into that disgusting little worm's hands."

"I promise I had nothing to do with that!" She pleaded, clasping her talons together and forcing herself upwards with the tips of her wings, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with a dragon who could crush any Ancient or Arkeyan like a bug under his paw. He ignored her.

"A gem nurtured and crafted by my very talons, raised to perfection since before you were but a distant thought in the back of an ambitious wyrm destined for greatness and power the like you cannot even dream in a trillion years, all but handed over to the unworthy and meaningless by the very dragoness I took the precious time and fruitless efforts to drag to her teenage years."

"B-B-BUT I BROUGHT YOU THE MAP! I WON! I COMPLETED THE MISSION! THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW I WAS THERE!" Cynder begged aat the top of her lungs until her throat was tearing itself apart.

"And for your accomplishment, you get to live, not be free of consequence."

Already knowing what awaited her, Cynder sprinted for the exit. Her wings flapped with all her might at the same time as her claws digging into the ground, kicking dead soil onto the rotten and defiling Dark brambles curling down into Malefor's nest. Her scales bent and shoulder popped as she crashed into the center of the archway. The spikes in the bars stabbed between her legs and wings and the shadowy film in the middle stopped her claws from lashing through to the other side. The few and short lines of guards shifted in their armor, not enough for Malefor to bother scolding them for their posture, not when his beloved daughter was screaming her lungs out and tearing into the Darkness keeping her caged.

"T-BONE! SKELLY! SOMEONE!" She shrieked and clawed and wept through the violet and black mist.

The skeleton wasn't far from the gate. The swords and shield at the center of the archway hid the guard from Malefor's gaze, not that he even pretended to care in public, let alone in private. His grip on his sheath would've turned white if he had any skin, but he didn't let his feet budge. T-bone's comrades were on thin ice for moving at all, none of them would dare move their legs no matter how violently the young dragoness cried and pounded against the barrier. What were they gonna do, stop him? Stand against the Dark Master? They'd first take their chances with Kaossandra the Corruptor or try their hand at reviving the Light Eater.

When the fires subsided, she always understood, they all did. Logically, there was nothing they could do. Nothing would stop her Father, nothing could stop her Father, throwing themselves away wouldn't change a thing. That didn't make the moments between any easier but standing their ground and focusing on the knight across from them was the best anyone in the dragon's entire domain could do. Although it felt a lot more like they were running away, if you asked them. It was a talent of Malefor's, almost as good at mind games and burning the screams and terrified image of a little girl into their skulls and eye sockets as he was at burning his enemies.

Platinum loops manifested from pink and purple light out of her platinum cuffs, sparking more and more spiky chain links leading down to the dragon's nest. The sharp ends sliced and stabbed into the hallowed dirt and got caught on rocks as the shackles reached for the pit. The ends of the chains wafted with cold shadows as they slowly approached the Dark brambles, growing denser and spreading further. The only light that could shine through the Darkness was the glowing magenta as the links got further away from Cynder, turning from solid metal to spectral magic while slithering toward Malefor, who didn't move or flinch as she was dragged along the ground.

Cynder's talons gashed and grabbed everything she could. Her claws dug into the rock, pulled clumps of dirt out of the ground, and cut and tugged apart old, dead roots. Crystals of Petrified Darkness slid against her black scales as her wide, panicked cyan eyes met fallen bricks and pieces of cobble covered in similar claws marks of varying sizes, but all smaller than she was now. Her collar sealed her windpipe shut as she was pulled further from the only exit, yanking her head back. Her talons couldn't catch any solid enough grip to stop her, her tail felt tight and she couldn't move anything above the cuff around the center, flicking the bladed tip did nothing. The Dark Master didn't even need to physically grab the chains to throw her across the ground. All that was under her control was the flapping of her wings, yet stabbing them into the ground only left another pair of many identical lines around her, some not as shallow and closer together, but all leading her to Malefor's opening maw full of freezing cursed flames.

Without a word, the two guards at the end of the hallway left their posts while their king's vision was obscured by his own purple fire to snuff out any and all flames between the main Castle, healer's ward, and Cynder's bedroom.

-<🌀>-

...So dark...

...So... Warm?

So soft.

It felt like he was floating in a void, unable to tell which way was up. He couldn't hear anything at first, but the sound of computerised beeping slowly faded in. The darkness slowly became less suffocating and a light weight settled on his side. It wasn't much at all, he almost didn't notice, but the dragon deduced which way was down. There was a thrumming in his head. Spyro knew very well what a headache felt like, and this wasn't quite it. He could feel its presence, he knew his head was pounding through basic logic, but a lot of the pain was gone.

Was he sleeping? This didn't feel like any sleep he could remember, too restful. His wings, spine, and neck didn't feel like they'd been forcefully bent into an S shape by a clumsy diamond golem with zero hand-eye coordination. Maybe this was death? He vaguely remembered Kaos and Glumshanks, along with the burning cold of Dark lightning rushing through his body. Please don't tell me Kaos was the last thing I ever saw. If this was death, then why could he still feel? Why was he more awake now than most mornings?

Spyro tried to bare his claws with little success, but he started regaining some feeling. The warm softness around his body was over by his feet, too. Not down, but left, he was lying on his right side. His right wing was a little numb but he started feeling the pressure. It had the same odd, almost weightless effect that the rest of his body had, but he was definitely lying down. Little by little, Spyro started getting feeling back in the rest of his body. He could twitch his forearms, adjust his legs, flick his tail, wiggle his wings, and feel the rising and lowering of his chest. Breathing normally felt more natural, somehow, like something else was breathing for him. He could feel something in his nostrils, too.

In total, it took about a minute for Spyro to be able to open his amber eyes. They were blurry at first, melding tons of light grays and blues together. Wherever he was, it was painted to be easy on the eyes. While his movements were still a little sluggish like he was under water, he wasn't complaining. The dim glow of the low lights didn't give him a migraine like most mornings did and the colors were all soft like someone put the world into dark mode. Everything was slow, but easy and calm, quiet and relaxing. His whole body felt soft, gentle like he was made of glass, swaddled up in the perfect blanket and adrift in a warm bath.

He could stay here. He could ignore the world and go back to sleep (or dead, the jury was still out) where he didn't feel hungry, thirsty, or tired. But he didn't know where Stealth Elf and Eruptor were, he didn't know what became of Eon or Cynder. Were they still frozen? Did she leave? What happened to the Core of Light? He couldn't stay yet! He had to get up! He had to find them. Spyro blinked rapidly and focused his vision. The room's gentle colors and dim lights revealed no windows, just some mostly flat walls lightly decorated with sigils and runes he vaguely recognised; mostly, they were just a ton of healing signs of varying qualities and different kinds of magic transfer, like the crystal and gold versions of copper wire.

Turns out he was in water, yet wrapped in a dry and warm blanket. The gentle wavering of air magic stopped the water from seeping into the fluffy sheets and soft mattress, comfortably clinging to his scales. Now mostly awake, he could feel where each individual heating pad was in the bed. Rich wood surrounded him like he'd been placed in a cradle made of roots. Maybe this was how Elfie grew up. Elfie! Eruptor! Right!

Spyro tried to get up and search for the new Skylanders, feeling a weight settle as his horns peeked through the shimmering white light covering his body. He was in a pod of some kind with air tubes up his nose from a small mask from his snout, wires and many mechanical parts were intermingled with the roots, melded with the carefully curated and woven plants. The inside was filled to the brim with Water densely saturated with Magic, kept inside the healing pod by Air enchantments placed on the mattress and blankets, Light topped off the opening, Life was sandwiched between the patient and Tech exterior, Fire maintained the temperature right beneath him. All that was missing was Earth and Undead.

His sudden rise to the world of the living stopped, not by any force keeping him inside the pod. Master Eon was right in front of him, several chairs were. His helmet's horns were stabbed through a pillow awkwardly tucked between the crook of his neck and the wall. The sound of his snores were muffled by the shimmering shield of dim light, but they were loud on the other side. Even the barrier rippled with his deafening snoring, awakening (ironically) more than a few very distant memories of trying to sleep as a hatchling.

Along with the soft spice of ember berries, strangely.

Elfie was right next to the Portal Master, slightly more comfortably resting her eyes on another chair. She had a black neck pillow and her brown bandana was pulled down over her chest. Her clothes were oddly casual, especially for the ninja: a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Her hair was unbraided and draped messily over the chair that was too big for her and pooled on her lap. She'd noticeably fallen asleep while anxiously tugging and plucking it with her hands, it looked like she had a bunch of big blue bracelets and rings and blue brass knuckles. It didn't look like anything the elf would ever wear, not unless she wasn't the one wasting gold on it.

The culprit was in the next chair. George had an identical neck pillow and a casual set of dark gray clothes. The only details on either outfit was a brand name over the heart of George's shirt; their fashion sense was a lot alike, as if they had any. He had a big white cast on his left arm. Really, it was probably more of a precaution or protection than something needed for the boy to heal, he was as tough as he was inexperienced. There were some small, colorful scribbles on it, but he couldn't tell what they said through the light's shimmer.

Eruptor might've been absent, but if Elfie was okay, he likely was too. That didn't mean Spyro didn't want to confirm. When fumbling to move his legs and trying to figure out where he was, he found a cast much like George's on his left forearm. Of course, he and his replacement had to match. He was able to distract himself from his situation with the writings on his own cast. 'Get well soon, Skylander!' 'Everyone owes ya, kid.' 'Savior of Skylands!' were written all over the white canvas in dozens of colors, all matched with signatures ranging from Students to Skylanders. He'd grown up with posters of some of these people! He'd all but begged Eon to get them for him, but now they were tucked away into the corner of his closet like long forgotten clothes.

It made trying to walk and climb out of the pod awkward. The bone didn't feel broken, not that he was able to put much force on it without simply floating to the top of the pod. Along with being wrapped up by the first blanket, there was a second, thinner one attached to the perimeter of the oval cylinder that kept him from floating away. It wasn't like he was chained down, the clamps holding the edges were pretty flimsy by design and the sheet itself was thin, just enough to preserve dignity so the pod and any surgeons could work unimpeded as any clothes were cut through or stored away. Being a dragon not wearing any rags or magic items, it made no difference to him.

Perhaps deciding against an enchanted anklet or collar had been a good thing, after all-

The ground shook and watery pod vibrated for a short second, then calmed. None other than Eruptor came stomping down the hall before slowing and lightening his heavy steps. Hugo followed him with a clipboard stuffed with many papers. The Mabu was plenty capable of jogging down the aisle without so much as shaking the pod, it took both of them a second to notice he wasn't unconscious.

"Spyro!" Eruptor's voice was muffled by the pod.

Eon, Stealth Elf, and George snapped awake. Hugo glanced disappointedly back at the Lava Elemental, who sheepishly picked up the pace to stand by the dragon. Eon stretched and tugged the pillow off his horned helm as the Forest Elf jumped out of her oversized seat. George pulled off his neck pillow and rubbed the back of his neck while turning his head back and forth. Though he didn't get up, leaving plenty of room for his team and Portal Master to crowd around, he never took his eyes off the dragon. Elfie and Eruptor pressed their small hands and lava blobs against the dim shield but couldn't go beyond its confines. Spyro, however, could freely pop the ends of the sheets out of their clamps and pull his legs out of the second, thicker blanket to prop himself out of the pod.

They both pulled off the mask and all but yanked him out of the pod into a hug. His shoulders were drawn out of the shield, back into gravity as Eon breathed a deep sigh of relief. Hugo immediately got to work jotting down details from a screen at the base of the pod, mostly making small checks and minor notes in the margins of a template. It seemed an awful lot like something that could've been automated but he wasn't here to question. If the Mabu was handling his paperwork, then he had to still be in the Castle. Was this their Intensive Care section? He'd never been here before, he'd barely been in the Healer's Wards before. The last times he'd come close were to visit two or three times when Eruptor and Elfie got very sick, delivering their notes and homework at the same time. He'd never been back here or interacted with these pods at all. They'd both shaken the whole thing off, too, while he took care of himself away from Eon's judgement and the Academy's wallet. He didn't remember this place at all.

Once his team got their moment in, they made room for Eon. "Spyro, are you alright?" He started while lightly nudging around the dragon's head, checking him over the best he could without simply reaching into the pod and carrying him away.

"Yeah." Spyro slightly bent the truth, his leg was supporting some of his weight now and he quickly shifted to leaning on a wing. He didn't have a full-blown headache right now, but he could feel an uncomfortable pressure around his neck and nose. The tubes quickly removed from his nasal cavity didn't help much. "How long was I out?"

"Just a few days." Eon answered like it was no big deal. Days!? He'd been wasting away for days! "Don't worry about that right now. All that matters is that you're okay." He stopped that dragon's spiral.

"Ya beat up Kaos without us!" Eruptor growled with faux-anger.

"And you don't know when to stay down." Elfie smirked.

"So many stairs for nothing." George held a hand to his head dramatically. He tried to giggle, but it sounded more like a cough.

"HE'S UP!" A disembodied skull shouted from the doorway.

Almost as quick as the skull ratted his out, a small swarm of Initiates poured down the rows of pods and tables of medical supplies. Flashwing was flying through the air, he heard the wind-up guy yapping something about 'not missing this, too' as he tried to push through the crowd. Jet Vac tried in vain to keep the Cadets from barreling through his, Kaboom, and Snap Shot's flimsy blockade. Even Hex got through while carrying Roller Brawl on her back. The vampire didn't even have either set of legs and her chest was tightly wrapped in bandages covered in cooling runes. They tried to bombard him with questions and comments, but the Portal Master blocked them off with a wave of a hand. Their excited voices turned to muted and disappointed mumbles behind a cyan dome, to which he and George both snorted.

Eon continued on like nothing had happened. "What happened on Graduation Day is staying within the Castle until the Trap Team figures out how Kaos warped through security. The report will be completed afterward, but it seems nothing in the Academy stays secret for long."

Speaking of the Academy, the Skylanders were quick to usher the Initiates out of the medical ward and back to class. Two were not just heroes, but members of the Trap Team, while the other was Jet Vac, it didn't take too long to get everyone out of his frill. The Portal Masters at least smiled to them before the old wizard summoned a cart full of trinkets, candies, and some pastries.

"Far from secret." Eon remarked with a laugh as the dragon gawked at the pile of gifts.

There was a lot of chocolatey and fruity treats, along with a couple of small pouches of gold with apologetic notes explaining the givers didn't know what else to give, along with a mix of snacks he didn't really like from people who either saw him getting them for his team or were just looking for something to stick a thank you not to, clearly not having any planning or coordination between teams. He couldn't help another small laugh, feeling a dull ache in his chest as he exhaled. Spyro ran his claws over his chest plates, they'd been fused back together seamlessly, lucky to have been tended to soon after the fight. The patches where his scales had been ripped away from lightning strikes and scraped off by repeatedly grinding against massive stones were refilled. Some spots were covered with retrieved scales that still had some small, gradually healing, and others were regrowing new plates. His frill draped over the side of his head, weighed down by the water.

"Some of your external scratches are taking longer to heal than expected, the fracture on your leg is mending ahead of schedule, and you've still got some Darkness corruption along your central nervous system." Another Mabu walked in and explained through the dome.

Spyro released a breath he didn't know he was holding. They thought it was just corruption and assumed his scars were scratches. He had time to get out of here and put his makeup back on, the Skylanders would be none the wiser. When he'd get the chance wasn't clear yet, nor was how much time he had before they got suspicious that the marks weren't fading.

Eon lowered the shield now that all the visitors had been shooed away, letting the Mabu woman walk in and take the clipboard from Hugo. Spyro vaguely remembered her, the way she quickly and efficiently flicked through the rest of the pages while completing the documents like it was second nature. Cali was quite a bit taller and leaner than the rest of her kind, as well as the adventurous type. Even when she was working in the Healer's Quarters and helping Hugo keep the logistical aspect of the Skylanders running as fast as the Castle shifted through Eon's portals as he wished.

She turned to Eon while nudging the pen between the clip and papers. "I've already asked Flynn to pick up some extra light shots, he's meeting us at the new location. He's the only one who knows where the Skylanders are going next." The Mabu turned around one more time to give Spyro a respectful nod, which he returned, and headed out with the dragon's paperwork. We really need more staff.

"Don't..." Elfie swallowed and tried to figure out what to say. "Please don't ghost us again... That could've been the last time we talked."

Spyro could feel the water current rush as he lifted his head. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"Still a team?" She awkwardly extended a hand, then clumsily switched it so she wasn't trying to grab his cast.

Even in the water, his wings strained to lift him out of the water to shake her hand just to comfort her. "But I'm not a Skylander." Spyro pointed out.

"About that." Eon intervened. A small portal opened in his hand and the Book of Skylanders fell out of it. "The Book of Skylanders will be relocated to a more secure location than the Relics Room, since there are so few Aspirants graduating per year." Eon went on a small side tangent as he flicked through the pages to the Magic section. Is that thing just infinite?

"When I called you a Skylander in the bubble, I meant it." He cleared his throat and summoned his favorite quill. "You repeatedly put your life on the line for your team and several bystanders, showed more than enough combat prowess to complete the Final Trials, and demonstrated the resilience to resume the fight while looking after your peers." Eon paused. "George, Roller Brawl, and Hex gave their stories." He clarified.

"B-But I failed." Spyro protested.

"Well, yeah, but technically you lasted longer than the Skylanders." Stealth Elf countered.

For all her perceptiveness, she could not navigate a conversation, it was part of her charm. Eruptor was better in that department. "You fought a bunch of robots, some Water Elementals, Kaos, copies of us, and Kaos again. You lost eventually, but you got further than most of us would." Because you two can lose. Your only family isn't breathing down your neck.

"You're sure you feel alright?" Eon confirmed nervously and fidgeted with his quill, not being able to tug and curl the end of his beard at the moment.

"Yes." Spyro halfheartedly insisted.

With a deep breath, Eon resumed scratching a page. Once the strings wrapped around him and gently cradled his soul, there'd be no going back. He'd be a Skylander. There's a life outside of this Castle, one that can never be competed with or replaced, not like you were.

The strings of light unfurled from the Book, rearing up and reaching through the ICU's pods and lining the walls as Eon finished the initial enscription. Flashing pink and purple, they latched onto Spyro's body. "Do you swear, as a Skylander of the Element of Power, of the Magic Element, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin?"

There'd be no riverside house away from the world's worries, there'd be no quiet nights looking out at a small town where he knew everyone and everyone knew him. "I swear." Spyro stated with unwavering conviction. His veins burned and neurons shot like live wires running through his scales and spiraling around his bones. The strings were grabbing his by the ankles, clamping on his tail like a beartrap, and slithering around his muzzle like a snake prepared to drip venom into his eyes. It's not too late to stop! Better to rip off the bandaid quickly, this doesn't need to go on!

Eon's hand moved smoothly over the pages, constant and unflinching like they weren't his own, but his glowing blue eyes kept darting up from the tome and his face twitched as if he was the one in pain. "Do you swear, as a Skylander of no known people uplifted by the Academy itself, to do everything in your power to aid and protect the Skylands, its people, and our peace and prosperity from those who would seek to bring conquest and ruin?"

There'd be no early mornings catching up on the gossip where nothing drastic happened and every little secret was ultimately harmless, there'd be no watching the Skylanders and forces of Darkness passing him by because there was nothing in his home worth stopping for. "I swear." He repeated with a perfectly steady and casual voice forcefully hissed through his sharp fangs, his jaw not even tightening as the hissing and cutting threads worked through his body, cutting apart and stitching his spirit together like he was nothing but a toy. There's still time. You can still go back. The healing process is practically done other than the arm, you've worked through worse and he hasn't moved the island yet. Miss Vanir's firm is still nearby, the town has a decent hospital and you have funds. Getting thrown out is nothing to be afraid of anymore; you've learned everything you'll need.

Eon's worry gradually melted away to a soft smile; maybe Spyro wasn't as bothered by the process as most. That, or he had an impossibly good poker face, but the dragon wore his heart on his sleeve. The Portal Master's eyes were watering like now, out of the eternity he'd been defending the Skylands from threats far worse than Kaos could ever be, was when every piece of his life suddenly came together. "Do you swear, as a Skylander who has given every second of his life since hatching to the future of Skylands and its people, to do good by his brothers and sisters in arms, by the Skylands and those you shall protect until the bitter end, and to stand for what's right no matter the adversity?"

He'd never know what it was like to laugh about clients while looking through law books, recent cases, and old precedents. Never would he be torn between that or being his own boss, building and fixing whatever he pleased. YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!

"I swear." Spyro didn't hesitate.

The lines snapped to his body with no impact or final slice. Ritual complete, they softened their grip like puppet strings granted some slack. They followed his muscles and supported his skeleton, the only force applied being the knot around his foreleg double-checking that the bone was reset properly. They made clear and efficient paths for his blood to flow through his body and return to his heart, where they aided in its pumping, right next to the springs opening and closing his lungs at his command. All the jolts rushing through his turned into extra-fast signals along his nerves, connecting him to himself and the Book of Skylanders like a living supercomputer.

His weave fanned his fire sack like he was a furnace and tempered his skull like coolant against his CPU. They tightened around his wounds like bandages and relieved the stress in his joints like ice packs. Every single cell was cradled like it was the most precious of gemstones, his DNA as delicate as the rarest of blossoms. His spirit was not shot down and criticized, but uplifted as if he were a million times more valuable than a mountain made of platinum, yet just as exponentially more fragile and appreciated.

Gleaming pink sparks and ancient runes etched themselves painlessly onto his scales, flowing just as perfectly along his limbs like they were leading him to a lit fireplace by the hand. His wing membranes gained paint like he was a wonderful walking mural everyone would stop to gawk at, all dripping down between each bone and lining it with sparkling designs. It lowered onto everything suppressed like a filter carving it small enough to slid through the cracks, then returning to pick him up in a blanket as if he was wanted and prop him up like a scarecrow standing stoic and stalwart between the Skylands and the horrors. Magic itself, both his Element and the nature of the infinite realm he was to protect forevermore, until his dying breath, the realm that now was him as much as he was Skylands, covered him in a hug like he was being welcomed home after a long war.

Spyro was Skylands, Skylands was Spyro.

Spyro was Skylands, Spyro was a Skylander.

Spyro was Skylands, settling in and making room for himself, Skylands cradling Skylands.

Spyro was a Skylander, Spyro was Skylands, Skylands was Spyro.

Coward.

-<🌀>-

Eruptor, Stealth Elf, Hugo, and the other Mabu woman all left once the dragon was confirmed to be safe and recovering, and George eventually joined them. He couldn't lift any weights with Barbella and Terrafin at the moment but he could still jog. Making his way through the Castle, taking the scenic route out to the courtyard and along the Training Isles, he let the light wash over his face like the glow of the Sun. Where all the daylight was coming from, he didn't care right now.

Plenty of the Cadets waved to him as he stretched his legs. He did his best to wave back through his cast and struck up some conversations here and there. Ignitor was an old, great Mabu warrior who was cursed to become a Fire Spirit and was bent on getting his life back and revenge on the witch who tricked him; he'd rushed back to the Skylanders' Castle when he was suddenly frozen and thawed in the middle of a battle against an old draconic enemy of his, allowing it to escape him again.

The walking, burning suit of cursed steel armor was the only Fire Skylander he got to meet, he steered clear of the side of the floating fortress covered in freely running lava and open flames, but he got to see the performance of a colorful skeleton and wingless Water Dragon cheering everyone up after the attack. He almost tripped over a quartet of black griffins rushing and screeching excitedly through the crowd, doing his best to catch one of them for their visibly exhausted and worried helmet-wearing Mother, who had a lot better control of her supersonic voice and was way more appreciative than her squirmy son. She'd showed up to check on the Students and Cadets, though her kids were all keen to follow slightly different sleep schedules.

It reminded him of Maria, she slept all day and cried all night when she was a baby. That being said, everything seemed to remind George of his sister, parents, or friends lately. Ignitor had his Dad's same sort of attitude, the soldier who was always on top of things. Sonic Boom looked just like his Mom did when they were kids and her hatchlings were just as rowdy as he was at their age. Fiesta and Echo's little show would've been right up Maria's alley, she'd never let their parents move on until it was done. 'Just one more song!' She would say over and over.

He was a Portal Master, apparently, maybe he could get them to meet her. Maybe he could show her this crazy place one day. But that wouldn't come for a little while. He still needed to figure out the 'portal' part of that. Kaos was barely over half his size and could fling a dragon around and through solid rock walls between throwing waves at him. And disposing of the Skylanders and Eon was the only way he got that far. George was hilariously outmatched by both an old man and a shorty with a superiority complex, couldn't wrap his head around any of the downright deranged equations, spells, and theories that made his only way home work. At this rate, he was never getting home.

George ascended the spiral staircase to the Portal Master's Tower. It wasn't like he was getting into the Relics Room, as if its existence guaranteed there'd be something he could use to escape buried inside, and he still couldn't make heads or tails of the insane symbols. All of their differing meaning depending on what other symbols surrounded them, what orientation they were in, and how the individual symbol he was focusing on affected those other magical markings was a gigantic puzzle he had no means of putting together. No wonder people spent their whole lives dedicating every day and night to this, he'd just started and didn't understand a lick of what he could do.

None of what he did was intentional, just the result of focusing on where he wanted to go and throwing random punches and kicks while concentrating until something vaguely like what he wanted to happen came to be. Barbella was a fitness instructor who specialised in action and physical strength, not books and quantum physics, and Terrafin wasn't even a teacher. Roller Brawl and Hex were just students like him, though one did have some advice to give. The Death Knight hadn't asked for the Portal of Power, yet; but even if he had, how long could he rely on the artifact to do the dirty work for him?

And it turned out there was only one teacher who already got his work done through the chaos of the Final Trials, Graduation, and Kaos's raid.

He ascended the last steps and his head poked through the bottom of the tower's cobble floor. Jet Vac was already there, scribbling on a small piece of paper with the dreaded red pen on the desk set aside for George. The bird glanced at him, finished writing something small on the page, and got out of the chair while clicking the pen. He nodded a greeting at the Portal Master while walking to Eon's desk and looked between the two papers in his yellow claws. One was covered top to bottom in writing while the other, filled in with red ink, looked to be a syllabus. The grading paper was set on the wizards desk and the teacher started for the staircase when George interrupted him.

"What's that about?" He asked.

Jet Vac paused, still looking at the paper like it was a Rubik's cube. "Just getting some last-second grading done."

"Everyone I talked to said you got your work done early." George mentioned while heading to his desk.

"Normally, yes." Jet Vac allowed the paper to fold and curve toward George as he gestured. "But this one-" He stopped and sighed mid-sentence. "This is not Spyro's handwriting, but I watched him write it!"

George squinted to see the page from across the desk and a few feet, he couldn't help a smile at the bird's expense. "Did he write the Constitution?"

Jet Vac didn't comment, kind of disappointing. "He has to be messing with me, he's never put half this much effort into any assignment." The bird huffed and started to go back to the staircase.

"What makes you think he doesn't try?" George asked again.

"His classroom performance. The boy's never taken class seriously. I can only hope he handles being a Skylander better." JV pinched the bridge of his beak.

"I had a talk like that with Roller Brawl and Hex." George explained. "Hex's skull mentioned he wasn't really at a lot of his parties, I figured he probably studied around then."

"With a party blaring in the next room?" The professor deadpanned.

"Well, was his grade good?" He countered.

"Of course." Jet Vac rolled his eyes.

"You gotta better idea?" George doubled down.

"...Fair." The bird relented.

"You got time to give me the class?" George quickly pressed. Jet Vac blinked. "If you think it was so easy for one person, why not let me have a shot?"

"Is this your way of getting free magic lessons?" The bird raised a brow.

"Maybe so, maybe not. So what do all the Elements mean?"

-<🌀>-

The dragon's projected bravado faded as the room grew empty. Of course, the only one watching it had to be Master Eon. At least breathing felt easy and moving was relatively painless. The Portal Master looked at him with the most patient eyes, but he had to be watching every bad motion. There must've been something the dragon was missing. Was he sitting wrong? The bottom end of the pod didn't allow him to sit upright. Maybe it was the bags 'corruption' under his eyes, highlighting the twitches and winces when he sat on something weirdly.

"You can lie down, if your neck is still sore. The mask was for medicine, the water is breathable." Eon brought up while lightly patting his head.

"Is it 'touch the Book of Skylanders' enchanted or actually waterbreathing enchanted?" He mumbled suspiciously.

Eon jolted his head back. "I promise it's safe."

"Last time I trusted 'the go-ahead' I got electrocuted, thrown against a brick wall, and laughed at." No, he was not still hurt about it.

He swallowed. "Perhaps not my brightest moment, but I assure you, everything in this room is top of the line."

The dragon took a breath and lowered his head. Even with the weightlessness of the water, his neck didn't feel great, his head had been bashed against a lot three days ago. His instincts took over and didn't let him inhale for a few seconds, but he was able to breathe under the healing water. Spyro rested his head on the pillow; it was just cold enough and the water was very warm. Some clamps along the corners of the pillow adjusted automatically as his head fell. He could feel the temperature adjusting, too. This all felt very fancy and comfortable for a hospital bed. He didn't have to move for the bed to automatically change the position of the heating pads and the squishiness of the memory foam.

"Hard to want to leave, isn't it?" Eon chuckled and his soft smile returned.

Spyro took a deep, grateful breath that he wasn't drowning. "Why is this all being used on me? I should've been put next to Roller Brawl and Chill."

"You're underestimating how much damage you endured." Eon criticised explained innocently. "The pod had to greatly lower your temperature to keep you in stasis and heal."

"Couldn't you just sedate me or something?" He asked.

"The Skylanders have all this for a reason, Spyro. We hate to see each other in pain."

"But I still don't get why you made me one." The dragon sat up again to speak through the water. "I failed, Kaos beat me, the only reason it worked out is because I burned the Book."

"But it did work. Kaos has been driven off and the Book restored." Eon added.

"Not by me, I was supposed to get rid of him, I wasn't strong enough to defeat him." Spyro argued.

The Portal Master shook his head. "Except you were, my boy. Crushing an enemy isn't the only way to win. You had an opportunity and took it, that's why Kaos was the one who failed."

"Easy for you to say, you threw him out." He pushed back.

"That's enough." Eon waved a hand, finished listening. "You've done more than you should've. This situation shouldn't have happened, but you took a stand and saved Skylands from a threat we should've been prepared for. Your moment will come eventually. Normally, you would start your duties as Skylanders a week after your Graduation, but I've already afforded you, Stealth Elf, and Eruptor an additional week.

Rest, my boy. No matter how disappointed you are, you've earned it far better than most new Skylanders, take pride in that." Eon smiled. "You may be able to remove your cast tomorrow, but I want you to keep it on until the next day, just in case. Take care of yourself and don't handle anything heavy when you get to your new home." The wizard finished, lightly patted him head, and left.

It was a test. It had to be a test. He was seeing if he'd take the bait, seeing if he'd slip, seeing if he'd get complacent. But it would be long time of constant, repeated, grand victories without the support of his team before that would even be a possibility in the back of an arrogant mind Skylanders couldn't afford to have. He couldn't relax now! He wouldn't relax now! Always diligent, always fighting the good fight, always covering evacuation routes, always holding the line; that was what Skylanders for were, what they signed up for when giving up their entire lives like he just had. They weren't here to laze about a healing tube.

Spyro would have his rematch with Kaos.

And he would never fail again.

Eon would never see him this low again.

Chapter Text

Stealth Elf hadn't been told much about Master Eon's next steps. She knew he was planning something to fortify the Core of Light against any attack, she knew it would require a lot of items and Elemental Sources, perhaps some Minor and Elemental Creation Crystals, but that was the extent of her knowledge. She wasn't an item enchanter or arcane mechanic, she didn't know how the Core worked or what the list of materials to reinforce it would look like. Tall, warm forests were her domain, not a bunch of cold gears and strangling piping.

Speaking of which, she took some solace in the bright green leaves over her head, the warmth radiating through their branches, the relative coolness of the shade, the high humidity, and the silence with which she walked through the woods. It'd been so long since she visited this forest. When had she finished training with Grandmaster Cami Flage? She'd been one of the fastest progressing students she'd ever taught, and she only tutored the most promising young ninja. Her thick, gray and silver hair made it seem Stealth Elf would be among the last students she gave the time of day (and night, nighttime training was always especially rough while they honed senses beyond sight), but she was never sure. All she'd been certain of was the oddness of the sensation, potentially the final student of a great ninja.

The wonderful heat and humidity followed her through the forest paths, no matter how dense the tree cover got, and she loved it. Not a sweltering and dry volcano island like Eruptor's, not a watery but frigid land like the spots Eon teleported the Castle to during Winter. Her bare upper arms were free to stretch and move around as she twisted her back, her gloves ran along tree bark, and her boots crunched fallen leaves and twigs. She couldn't get any of this at the Academy unless she was walking to Life Studies or survival classes.

Knowing the ninja colony that called this forest home, and that her Masters were waiting and hiding in the deep woods, she gladly let her Skylander markings show. They were only visible on her face and upper arms, but the tingle of flowing Life magic and the immense presence they represented made them worth showing off to those speeding and jumping through the shadows. Most of them kept their distance, creeping between bushes and pouncing between branches under the assumption she wasn't aware they were there. She could feel their eyes on her, even the ones without pupils, but she didn't say anything to anyone. They were just learning and she didn't want to deal with anyone.

Some of the spirits were a lot less subtle, dancing and twirling about their domains. Many were fairly standard tree spirits with small swarms of leaf sprites zipping and singing around their leaves and face-paint-like colored bark. Although there were a select few rock spirits stomping around the island with some flowery friends chatting and asking to go in different directions on top of their mossy and grassy heads. This forest had been teeming with life for as long as she could remember, but this felt even more vibrant. Had something happened, or had she really been away for that long?

Whatever case, especially as she allowed her leafy and thorny tattoos to show and shine with lively Life light, the big brown bag on her back was lighter than ever. Lighter than if she were flaunting her new glowing body paint, lighter than if she was just in an area strong in the Life Element. Existing here just felt way easier. Spyro was right, I need to come back more often. She wondered what else she'd missed while adjusting the straps. Grandmaster Cami Flage was old, but she wasn't falling apart yet.

The big, fruity garden she'd missed so much must've been going strong and Sensei Ambush had to be lurking around somewhere, though she was less keen to confront him since becoming a Skylander. He and the other Senseis had stood a step above the others for as long as they'd hosted classes; How was she supposed to stand before him still not having mastered large weapons like his Greatsword? Or even just a katana. Elfie had already let him down once and wasn't ready to face him again, not until she and Spyro figured out how they felt about each other.

The forest slowly grew quieter and steadier as she progressed, nearing her old Sensei's camp. All that echoed through the woods were the ambient noises of singing birds blissfully unaware of the elderly but deadly Grandmaster living right underneath their nests. Foxes scurried beneath the bushes and bugs weaved through the grass, though Elfie didn't make a single sound as if letting the forest know she'd never take its cover for granted, certainly not after experiencing heavy winters at the Academy, and proving she still came in peace. She could feel the light tingling and poking of nature flowing about her tattoos, investigating her down to her Soul and learning her story, gratefully and welcomingly feeding off her deep connection to Skylands itself.

From every blade of grass to the top of every tree, they all depended on Skylands. She was a Skylander, she was Skylands itself, the forest depended on Skylands to take root and grow healthily. Now the forest was depending on her, not just the other way around, and flowers bloomed and leaves wiggled with vitality as Stealth Elf held up her end of the bargain.

A disrupting rustling in the foliage to her right wasn't a fraction as welcome, a fact the inside of her bandana knew well as she frowned. It was obviously one of the younger and less-experienced students. Their stealth skills, among the most important and earliest to be driven into their heads by competitions to snatch sugar-coated fruit treats right from under their teachers' noses, were definitely there, but remained unrefined. Good enough to get by some of the first hurdles to their simple desserts, but not much else. The stalker made very few mistakes and paced themselves decently for their level; her angling and twitching pointed ears caught small pauses in their step as they avoided loud branches and stopped from kicking pebbles while constantly rethinking the quietest route.

Stealth Elf acted like they weren't there, hoping they'd go away on their own. Instead, the closer she got to the Grandmaster's hidden home, the closer they got. They started sneaking beside her as she followed the non-existent path. Soon, she could feel the dew trailing along their feet and the leaves brushing their face like looking through a sixth sense. It was a small figure, smaller than she'd expected, maybe around her age when the Grandmaster and Sensei Ambush singled her out. That didn't mean they were impressive, though, she'd only started considering her talents as such when she passed the Final Trials on her first try.

Once she crossed the threshold of a certain tree favored by the elderly elf, they attacked.

A blast of leaves and dirt was kicked up by the figure jumping from the bushes. It was a trick Elfie used to favor when she was that small, too, a green and brown cover making up for poor stealth. Little more than something to extend the unpracticed's window of opportunity before an ambush. The problem quickly arose when using it against someone else who favored sneak attacks. When you had to learn the best ways to get the drop on someone, when you had to forge all your senses into something capable of landing the perfect hit in the most niche and hardest to fight through conditions, even worse than dense fog and complete darkness, you learned well the flaws in your form.

This was a maneuver for those who weren't fast enough to get it right the first time. Stealth Elf grew out of it a long time ago; this attacker didn't stand a chance. If the want to laugh hadn't been beaten out of her by necessity, she would've found their efforts a little amusing. Only a small smug smile was hidden by her mask as she closed her pupilless eyes and adjusted her ears. There was a slight rush of wind where the person circled her body, looking for a weak point. Stealth Elf made it deceptively easy by lifting a hand as if she was protecting her face from the debris; her chest was obscured by the very cloud they created, one side had her arm in the way, her backpack protected her back, so the lifted arm left the only easy way into her exposed gut.

The glowing foliage lines about her stomach hummed in response to a wooden weapon approaching her... Someone was not only attacking a Skylander, new as she was, but one of the Life Element, with a tough stick. It took more willpower than she'd thought she'd use on her little vacation to stop herself from smiling wider. Her attacker was slower, but they caught the way her hand suddenly snapped down to her side. Turning their first strike into a feint and instead spun around to kick her gloved hand away before trying again.

While an impressive recovery, they were still slower than Elfie. She twisted her wrist to catch them by the heel, moving slightly to absorb the momentum as she side-stepped away from the predictably incoming slash, then curled her fingers. Her enemy yelped like a kicked puppy and their wooden dagger went wildly off-course, she didn't even need to grab their forearm as it swiftly rushed far beyond her shoulder. With her free arm she whirled through the falling puff of dirt and grass to bury her fist into the attacker's gut. Stealth Elf didn't even need to alter her footing to send them stumbling into a nearby tree.

She finally opened their eyes to see they were a short Forest Elf holding a pair of sharpened twigs, one that looked uncannily like her, no less.

In fact, she looked like the splitting image of Stealth Elf. The only difference was their hair; a deep blueish purple, rather than something between navy and lapis. Some leaves fluttered down on the girl's head as she clutched her bare stomach and kept the weight off her twisted ankle. Tears stong her small, wide, bright white eyes and her purpleish hair was poorly kept, obviously not being brushed in a little while. Ironically, it was the boys who didn't allow her to go out like that. Her hair was the only part of her and her equipment she didn't obsess over, so long as it was out of her face.

There was only one place she knew that outfit from, too, down to the narrow green-skinned belly gap between the top of the skirt and leggings and the bottom of the flexible tunic.

Grandmaster Cami Flage, and potentially Sensei Ambush, had a new pupil.

Stealth Elf was one of the last, but not the special someone they came out of their dusty old huts for. Her chest tightened and breath hitched in her throat, but she didn't let any of it show to the little girl. She was probably just trying to protect her Grandmaster's hut. Her ears flicked as she looked up to the Skylander and traced the glowing green leaf, flower, and thorn markings growing and shifting along her skin like vines. The tattoos around Elfie's eyes curled and slithered with serpentine irritation as she barely narrowed her eyes, then flowed with the turning of her ear.

She spun, blocking a chop with her forearm so it glided harmlessly along her side, then countered with a hammer fist that was stopped by a thick, slightly padded sleeve of a brown robe with a lighter trim and brown fingerless gloves. A tight red belt about the second person's waist stood out against the long robes, extremely baggy green pants, and bright red shoes. Both bandanas around the Grandmaster's face and silvery gray hair were deeper maroon than her belt and especially her slippers, as were the unusual red plates tied into the pair of giant and droopy pigtails around her face and over her triangular red shoulder plates. It was about the extent of her armor, aside from the well-hidden hardened leather and thin gambeson stuffed in her robes. The old woman smiled beneath her mask and withdrew her hands.

"GrandmasteRRRRRR-" Stealth Elf held her hands together and started to bow, but her greeting was cut short by the ninja's arms suddenly wrapping around her entire body and heaving her through the air in circles. Her old teacher's voice was a little raspier than she remembered, but her laugh was just as loud and projected from her chest.

Grandmaster Cami Flage, in all her ancient wisdom and glory, happily set her down exactly in the same spot. Although it felt like her arms were still crushing Elfie's ribcage when they separated. "Can't... Breathe."

Cami Flage's maniacal cackles resumed again. "Ah, you haven't changed a bit, Stealth Elf." She finally returned the failed attempt at a greeting bow. "And I see you've achieved your dream." She took one of the elf's hands and traced the glowing vines along her green skin, brushing a thumb along the humming leaves and tapping the centers of the flowers and tips of the thorns.

"She's a Skylander?" The little elf got up while rubbing her bruised stomach.

"You can tell by the spirit paint." The Grandmaster explained and kept investigating the marks. "I didn't take you for the type to walk around with them in the open, and they don't usually come with flowers."

"I wanted to surprise you, and it's my own touch. They reminded me of my tree." She answered and uncomfortably clutched an arm. Seems she'd indeed been replaced.

Cami Flage chuckled. "Of course, that ancient thing. Anyway, I believe you've already met Whisper Elf." The Grandmeaster casually beckoned both of them deeper into the enchanted forest, towards her hut hidden in the crook of a particularly large tree.

-<🌀>-

While their assassin favored the warm and very humid, he was one for sweltering heat and desert-like dryness. All water boiled away in volcanoes and lava poured freely down the barren ash gray and charred black fields as magma swirled and churned with latent energy right beneath his feet. His Dad worked at one of those distant, towering mountains of rock and flame, fuming and filling it with power and heat for forges, heaters, and the hastened production of Fire Elemental materials like crystals, gems, and powders. The former and latter were the most common, able to grow quickly or be harvested by hand, but gems had great bonuses attached to whoever found them. Granted, they tended to appear in geodes within the superheated stone. Maybe he'd pull Skylander favor to search for some in his own time. He wished he could get one to lighten his mood before dealing with his parents, but they were expecting him.

That didn't stop Eruptor from taking his sweet time, walking through his old hometown and exploring all the new buildings that'd popped up in the long stretch of time since he'd been gone. Not above flaunting his new status, he occasionally stretched and allowed his Skylander markings to glow. Some passerby glanced at him multiple times, trying to decide if what they saw was real or just a trick of the light until he off-handedly blinked them again while rolling a shoulder or twisting his back. He couldn't help the massive, stupid, knowing grin on his face as they stared and kids pointed.

His place was a lot denser than Elfie's forest. She'd only occasionally brought up the handfuls of small camps and few consistently together groups, not much to talk about her home forest unless one of them asked about her tree with the offer of a new lead for finding out exactly what the damned thing was. Usually, she didn't even recall their names, but here, people didn't know each other's names because nobody wanted to deal with their annoying neighbors. Trees and grass could never take root here, it was too severe an environment for any of the nearby plant life to spread their seeds and their pollen to fertilize without being drowned by falling volcanic soot or simply burned away by exposed flames and floating embers. Both were pretty common but not a problem for the inhabitants. Spyro barely sneezed in the worst parts and Elfie had never joined him here, but she'd be good with a pair of goggles over her mask.

Now the dragon wasn't here to keep his parents distracted, though. He would be the center of attention and suddenly decided it was a good time to check the perimeters of the fiery mountains before finally making the trek to their house. There were a lot of ore and crystal outcrops surrounding him, as well as rushing rivers of lava flowing as freely as water. It might as well have been water for them. Liquid life it was not, certainly not for a bunch of Lava, Fire, Magma, and Ash Elementals and Golems wandering the handful of infernal islands he'd grown up on.

They'd made some progress in his absence, getting some minor buildings and fences on the outskirts of the larger landmasses, not that they looked capable of withstanding anything bigger than a sheep or hold back any of the ash creatures who could phase right through the posts like Air Elementals and rockier types who could move a bit too fast and reduce them to smoldering splinters. Magma Golems, with their searing hot insides and tough, if sluggish and easy for him to crack, outsides could and did absolutely plow through their smaller borders. At least the Ash-based spirits just didn't appreciate their territory being intruded upon and gave plenty of time and space for people to pack up their things and leave instead of immediately bulldozing homes.

Neither he nor the common townsfolk going about their daily business were half as magically sensitive as Elfie and her kind, not unless Fire was involved, but even he could sense the flow of magic through this gigantic island cluster better than ever. Both with careful studying and constant practice, he'd gotten the hang of working with magic beyond his fireballs without the help of being a Skylander. The soot coating the ground, the peaks of the smoking volcanoes, he could feel the sparks of power within the enriching ash covering their homes and the flashes of lightning in the smokestacks generated solely by the static electricity of rubbing particles. Most thought of electromancy as a Water and Air trick, the entire notion made him want to make geothermal computers and shoot orbs of lightning.

Not right now, though. His markings glowed brighter and brighter, strengthened by the presence of Fire. It made a self-sustaining loop as the land simultaneously absorbed his radiating heat and empowered him. He was a Skylander, now, he was Skylands itself, the energetic loop existed all because of his presence and some of the most magically inclined populous didn't need to see his tattoos to know a Skylander was in the area.

Eruptor waded through the flowing lava for a little while, managing to pick some exposed materials out of the ground. There weren't any magical gems close enough to the surface for him to pick, but he came here to make a tiny profit and stall for time, not actually get some major components. Some of this would still be nice gifts for Spyro, anyway, preprocessed ingredients weren't cheap and nowhere could sell everything he needed. It wasn't like Eruptor knew what the Elemental Paragon's plans were for all of his alchemy supplies, and it didn't really matter as long as their argument got smoothed over.

His parents' house, more like where they both happened to live, was a rough bunch of igneous rock they'd piled and melted together right before he was born. There were a lot of rough edges where the molten rock didn't quite fuse together right, creating small blobs and bubbles around the edges like stone sponges and piles of slime, but it was where he grew up and was intimately familiar. Through time and weathering, this place hadn't changed a bit, he hoped he couldn't say the same for the people who lived there.

Eruptor's Dad was the one who answered the big, circular stone door, shoving it aside. While thin enough to simply be punched through, especially to him, wood never lasted long here and they needed to be skinny enough for their homeowners to easily go in and out. His old man was starting to get some charcoal spots around his eyes, down his mouth, and atop his head faster than most volcano workers his age, odds were a legally required vacation was coming up. He'd be willing to lend them some coin here and there as long as he didn't have to come down to the island every single payment.

Plus, Skylanders with family got a slight bonus dedicated specifically for supporting their parents, a less-than-subtle enticement to keep their connection secret and, by extension, their folks safe from the Darkness. It didn't make much of a difference to him, there was a travelling burnt forest that occasionally drifted near their home and routinely raided the town. Even if it wasn't directly associated with the Darkness. The point being that attacks were nothing his town wasn't prepared for. The heart of their community was a lot better defended than the barely inhabited outskirts and few were effectively able to attack a colony of Lava Elementals and their flaming allies, despite many of them being civilians over fit warriors. His Dad used to be one such example of a normal person picking up a boulder to chuck at the smoldering face of a sundered Ent.

"Emerson, my boy!" His Dad exclaimed and threw a lava blob over his shoulder. Maybe he was getting exhausted, but he mustered a big, toothy smile for his son finally returning.

"Hey, Dad." Eruptor, Emerson, smiled back and hugged the old man as rapid stomps echoed through the house.

His Dad stepped aside so his Mom could come in, wrap him in a surprise hug, and happily pepper his forehead with kisses. The new Skylander still couldn't decide if this was the best or second-best part of visiting his parents, a close tie between right when he arrived and leaving. Knowing what was to come put a pretty devastating dampener on the whole thing and he could already see the displeased frustration on his Dad's face as his moment with their child was cut short.

"There's my little boy!" His Mom cheered, her voice more like the hiss of steam than grinding gravel like the boys. "Come in, come in!"

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Ma." He protested with fake irritation as he and his Dad walked into their humble, rocky old home. His childhood bedroom was still upstairs and the guest bedroom, often used by Spyro during these sorts of visits, was right next to it. The living room and kitchen were the first things everyone saw. Mom and Nana were where the family's knack for cooking came from, the dumb muscle was from his Dad's side and often led to him closing the door behind guests. Eruptor couldn't help but feel like one as the old man shoved the stone slab shut like he was an outsider; not intentionally, but it wasn't a new feeling for a long list of reasons that grew every time he stopped by. His inheritance depended on always coming back, though, so here he was without his scaly backup.

It was all wide but slowly tensing smiles for now, a part of him still felt they somehow knew Spyro and Elfie were out of commission or elsewhere when they called him back to celebrate his graduation, they would start falling apart soon and he'd be scrambling to get out the door the next morning.

-<🌀>-

"Alright, listen up, because I won't be repeating this-" The bird started, almost immediately getting interrupted by the purple dragon.

"Why's George here?" Spyro asked, raising his cast-covered arm as if he'd been granted permission to speak. Clearly it was more to piss off his nemesiss than get an answer.

Jet Vac sighed, not a great day to start the second day of teaching a boy who knew nothing about Skylands the basics of the Elements and magic. "George is here to learn about some basic magic items, including the subject of your lesson, so don't interrupt because I'm not going over this again. This-" He pointed as if he hadn't given them plenty of time to investigate the crystal and record their observations, probably something he'd gotten in the habit of over the years of teaching Skylanders. "Is a Minor Creation Crystal. They come in five varieties: Raw, Minor, Standard, Major, and Elemental.

Raw is just the blanket categorization for Minor and Standard crystals that haven't been processed to the point of being usable. Standard through Elemental Creation Crystals are too powerful to have this issue. They are used mainly by the Skylanders to construct their homes, furniture, specialized rooms, and some basic utilities. While Skylander housing comes with one room for each member of the team, at least one common room, a kitchen and dining room area, and an entertainment area for the team to decide the use of, these crystals are used to expand and modify their spaces to their desires.

They are able to create any non-magical furnishings and most items, nothing pricy or made of unusual materials, so any artwork or higher quality additions are coming directly out of your pocket and gained through your deeds. Minor and Standard Crystals aren't usually useful for much more than creating small items and filling rooms, but many of them can be combined to create a new room. Keep in mind that this isn't as efficient as using one Major Creation Crystal and that you normally wouldn't be able to turn them back into Creation Crystals when you're finished making modifications. But Master Eon keeps all Skylander homes in a pocket-dimension state with magical effects allowing this to happen, so be sure to change the source of your rooms to Major Crystals to get the most out of your Creation Crystals. You'll learn more about this once you move in."

George raised his hand and properly waited to be called on before asking his question. "So if they all just create stuff for Skylanders, what's the point of Elemental Creation Crystals?"

The bird nodded and continued. "Elemental Creation Crystals are an impressive cut above even Major Creation Crystals. They aren't just creation magic condensed in a small, crystalline form, but the purest form of their Element concentrated into the form of a Crystal, technically being a different class of magic material to every other kind of Creation Crystal and able to craft Elemental items the likes few other materials can ever hope to compete with, all of which are just as legendary and rare as they are. The only things that beat them out are Elemental Sources.

Your Raw Creation Crystals are for appraisal and refinement, preferably by those familiar with the Earth Element, due to the ability and relatively cheap spellwork required to free the Crystal from the physical world... Fancy speech for brushing the rock and dirt off, if you ask me." Jet Vac poorly hid some small Earth-Air rivalry behind his lecture. "Minor Creation Crystals are for your tables, dressers, or complete kitchen sets. Standard Crystals are for your more complex and larger furniture, such as library-worthy bookshelves, couches, kitchen islands, wide countertops, big cabinets, and most beds. Majors are for constructing entire rooms and attaching them to the power and plumBing of the rest of the house." The professor strangely stressed the silent B. Probably just a speech quirk of his but even he seemed to know it didn't sound right.

"And your Elemental Crystals are for creating Supercharger engines, Portals of Power, many legendary weapons and armor, and ascending Elites, or used directly as spellcasting foci, all of the matching Elements. The lower levels of Creation Crystals can be forged with greater effort and many assisting materials to create decent weaponry and tools for use in the field, but only Elemental Creation Crystals can make real items and vehicles of legend. Every Elite Skylander, every Supercharger, and every Portal of Power is built upon Elemental Creation Crystals.

I hope you got all of that, because I have some last-minute work to breeze through and a break to take. Dismissed." He ordered like they were soldiers. George supposed Spyro was, now, but even then he considered the Skylanders more like superheroes for hire with some strict moral and legal restrictions.

"Would you say-" Spyro began.

"Dismissed." Jet Vac repeated without turning around on the way to his desk.

The dragon looked like he couldn't decide if he was disappointed or accepting that his second interruption got shot down. Either way, he took off and glided towards the Portal Master's tower. George, meanwhile, tried warp-dashing to the side of the structure like Kaos had. The shift in Gravity made the transfer a little weird but he punched the stone to lock himself in place, then warped again onto the balcony. Spyro beat him to Eon's desk through the ache in his beaten wings and stretched, popping his back, he could see the tension leaving the dragon's face as they met with the wizard.

Eon got up from his desk and cracked his knuckles after a long time working through some paperwork. "Spyro, George. I presume you've completed your Creation Crystals lesson." He politely greeted and beamed with pride at the dragon, expecting the new Skylander but was pleasantly surprised by George's appearance. Something like joy flickered in Spyro's eyes as Eon looked at him, but it disappeared to a professional and indifferent expression pretty fast.

"You will find your share of the starting Creation Crystals at your new home island. I will transport it to the pocket around the Castle once you are settled, and I'll inform Stealth Elf and Eruptor of how to get to it when they return from their breaks. You will be able to teleport there through any of the light blue crystals floating around the border of the Castle." The Portal Master explained. "I expect you to rest for the day. And please, no more parties." He finished.

Spyro inhaled, gathering the energy to put on his cat-like smug and cocky face. "Fewer parties." He winked before dashing out the balcony and gliding down to the Academy courtyard, that being the closest spot the cyan crystals rested. He and Eon shared a raised brow as the dragon put on his mask and disembarked, both chalking it up to his injuries worsening his attitude but making a note if he didn't start feeling better soon.

"Who protects the Skylanders while you're always here?" George suddenly asked.

"The Skylanders must be capable of defending themselves." Eon blinked in confusion and answered robotically like he was reading from a pamphlet. "Is there a problem?"

"The problem is all of them got frozen by one Book." He criticized their system. "What happens if someone finds it again?"

"That won't happen." Eon poorly assured him. "It's been moved beneath the Core of Light. Once the Core's been reinforced, attackers would be forced to destroy the Core before they could get to the Book of Skylanders ever again."

"How long will it take to protect the Core?" George asked suspiciously.

"One of each Elemental Source has been found with some vagueness. I've already assigned some Skylanders to locate them." Eon answered while tapping his small stack of papers until they were even and setting them aside for the Mabu to retrieve later.

"Who?" He pressed.

The old man raised a brow again as he rounded his table, but happily obliged. "Sensei Tidepool has leads on Water, Fire, and Magic sources. Trap Master Enigma is the one who predicted the existence of all the sources and us trying to divine hints as to the whereabouts of the Undead, Air, Life, and Earth sources. And Sensei Mysticat is pursuing the Tech and Light sources." Eon stated while staring off into the distance as if there was a to-do list floating in front of him, then snapped back to the boy to elaborate. "If there's a Source of Darkness, it is not to taint the Core of Light under any circumstances, for all of Skylands' safety."

"So until then, Kaos could invade the Core and get the Book?" George confirmed.

"If he gets to the Core before we're finished. Now you see why we must be swift." Eon nodded grimly, but steeled himself. "He'll need to refine his powers, first, he isn't strong enough to destroy the Core as it is. That being said, it gives us reason to believe he's also racing for the Elemental Sources."

George clenched his teeth and hummed in thought. "Fine, I'll help you do Skylander stuff until I get home."

Eon perked, but tried not to overwhelm him. "What has stirred this decision?"

"I just want to get home, but I don't want them to die for your Core thing. I'll help you upgrade it. After the Skylanders are fine, I'm going home." He stated firmly.

The Portal Master nodded and stroked his rapidly regrowing beard, likely the result of some magic. Everything was magical here. "Very well." He quickly accepted and created two images before George. One was an emerald green serpent clad in black robes with gold trims and holding a gold staff with a slit jade eye in the end, the other was a the purple sphinx he'd been recommended to consult for magic research. "Mysticat and Pit Boss are the only two Sorcerer Senseis in the Academy. Neither are of the Earth Element, but Pit Boss may be willing to give you some lessons if Mysticat is too busy searching for the Elemental Sources.

You're already familiar with Sensei Barbella, but Sensei Tri-Tip is our other Earth Sensei. he is a very strong and talented wielder of the mace. All four of them will be worth asking for help with your shields and Earth Magic. I cannot let you anywhere near this mission until you're prepared." The old man idly tapped his staff as George weighed his options.

Maces were generally one-handed weapons, right? He'd rather keep working with Barbella but he didn't have the hand for a polearm right now, despite how quickly the cast's healing worked. He didn't know what each type of Sensei did best, besides Barbella and Sentinels with their polearms and Sorcerers being their blanket term for spellcasters. He still needed to get the hang of magic, even the stuff he had a natural affinity for, but also needed a break and some fresh air. The Earth side of the island wasn't as good for that as the Life section, but it was better than Undead and he wouldn't be as worried about trying to traverse a bunch of massive chaotic, completely out-of-control arcane energy riddled with sharp, half-formed crystals and rushing streaks of power that all swayed upward and down like rouge waves as much as they flowed like white rapids.

Might as well take his chances with Tri-Tip, then. Not like he hadn't done his fair share of drowning in books this morning.

-<🌀>-

"What have we learned about trying to Air Skate?" T-bone asked.

Eugenie avoided his eye sockets as he finished fastening an ankle brace and slipped an oversized sock over it. "Don't."

"Good." He got to his feet and started walking out her door.

"Any idea where Cynder is?" She asked about the only person she somewhat knew in the whole castle. The black dragoness hadn't been around for a few days.

He stopped in her doorway and flicked down his helmet's visor before turning back to her, hiding his shifty eyes. "I don't got details, but something happened and she'll be back to herself in a day or two. Nothing major, probably just some errands from her Dad." The skeleton waved off the whole thing and left before she could ask any further.

There were plenty of Portal, Air, and Undead books on her desk, but not many of them were particularly calling to her. Portal magic was where her best options sat and she couldn't expect to freeload forever, no matter how rich Cynder's old man must've been to be the king of however many islands. She held her hands up, not even looking at the pile as she used a portal to drop a tome into her palms. Eugenie held it above her face with a continuous gust of wind from beneath her sleeves, slowly running out of unnecessarily elaborate ways to use magic to do simple stuff. Not that it'd stop her from going up and down her list of tricks.

Her shoulder ached above her ankle brace as she shifted and flopped her head down on her pillow. The force of the wind stopped the pages from flipping around, held in place as she glossed over the words. It wasn't exactly Intermediate, to her, more like the upper end of Beginner, but still had some slightly new details about the flow of magic through time-space and how changing the directions could alter a portal's nature. Clockwise could act as a sort of catalyst, extending the range of a portal, but counter-clockwise was good for stability; one for quickly made and more powerful portals, the other for one that already had preset start/end points like the stone platforms connecting towns across many islands.

What she could do with those artificial teleportation platforms, though, was of some curiosity. Eugenie wouldn't be bound by the range of those platforms, able to go decently far beyond them to connections they weren't supposed to have the range to send her and any followers to. That extra distance depended on her own skills, already something she was working hard to refine and push the limits of when she wasn't trying to fly, but this would be a good option until she figured it out and was more efficient than creating brand new portals or flinging herself around like a cannonball.

She still didn't know how her shadow existed in a constant, blanket light-level, nor did she get the answer from any of the books she'd blazed through or the nerve to try walking up to one of the Undead Guards, but they could apparently help with the direction of portals. Knowing where the shadows pointed at both points of a portal was a good way to keep it steady and having the rift's faces in the same direction as the light was a common way for newbies to keep things straight and where they wanted openings to be. It didn't seem to do anything, it was more like an axis or ruler helping create a straight line, but she'd gotten through that mostly by mathematics and practice. Not something that should've been left to the end of a unit, but maybe old Portal Masters didn't start trying to create fully functional portals like she'd been doing. It seemed she was supposed to start with something called a 'Warp-Dash' and practice mentally mapping her surroundings.

Seeing as she was still a good distance from being able to move through her own portals, she quickly grew bored with the book. Eugenie was bored of a book, her friends would be shaking her by the shoulders and screaming at her to tell them what she'd done with the real Jenny. She allowed it to fall to the side for the time being and summoned one of the many bookmarks from her backpack with another tiny portal, then stretched across the bed and cracked her knuckles.

Just because she'd hurt her foot in a less-than-stellar second didn't mean she couldn't move around. The bottom of the big sock bubbled like an inflating balloon as she used a gust to prevent her leg from touching the ground. This might've been how she should've practiced moving with aeromancy; one leg floating and the other keeping her stable like she was walking down the halls with a skateboard.

She just wanted to start taking to the skies already! She barely even cared how she did it anymore! Nor could she tell why it felt like every part of her body from her billowing her to her soaring Soul suddenly wanted to reach the 3rd dimension all at once. Launch her between islands with a catapult, put her on an airship, stuff her in a giant slingshot like an Angry Bird, just let me fly! Let me off the ground! It shouldn't take this long in a dimension of levitating islands!

Eugenie experimented with her winds as she carefully guided herself down the red carpets and along the obsidian walls, steadying herself with a hand and leg as she slid forward on a thin sheet of air. She tried rotating the winds counter-clockwise like the flow of a portal, wanting to see if the stability factor applied to Air as well, but found there was no difference. The same thing happened when she leaned against the wall to cancel and reverse the direction of the Air, but this way she could twist her hurt ankle against the airflow to keep it compressed and in relatively the same spot. Other than making the mistake of picking up speed, the 'walk' to the portal platform was pretty uneventful, probably for the best.

No idea where she was going, no idea what she was going to do, no idea what was beyond the castle, and not a care, she stumbled over to the circular stone platform and took a seat on the rock. Blindly tracing her fingers over the carvings along the sides like she was reading coordinates from the arcane exhaust sigils and magic guiding runes. The center of the artificial portal lightly rippled with her presence and its edges sparked beneath her cape and leathery clothes. She could feel the distant lines of magic connecting like signal towers and the internet to similar portal subnetworks located all across what she assumed to be the many-horned dragon's vast domain, unsure if she wanted to meet him as she reached beyond this portal's confines.

Knowledge of all the aeromancy and portal magic flashed in her mind's eye as she repeated every little detail to herself. Her sphere of influence expanded, swelling with untapped power like countless hair-thin threads riding the turbulence to whatever center of interdimensional disturbance it could. If there were any such disturbances beyond the portal platforms, she couldn't tell what they were, every point of interest within her bounds felt the same. Their energy all rotated counter-clockwise like screws digging through the fabric of reality, so she assumed them to all be normal connections within the knowledge and control of Cynder's Dad's Kingdom.

She targeted the furthest one away. It was just barely within her grasp, as if off to the side of the entire border, tucked away. Out of sight and out of mind to most, but the out-of-the-way-ness of it all caught her attention. It must've been slightly interesting if such a far away and deceptively insignificant island was given a portal. Maybe it was a treasury, maybe a storehouse. Whatever it was, it must've had some importance and checking it out sure beat lying in bed all day.

Her clothes flapped with the rushing magic like she was in the heart of a tornado as her body vanished, rapidly appearing at the far-away portal like a ghost.

Chapter Text

The normal hustle and bustle of students wandering between the entrance, lockers, and their classes was quieter than normal. Oscar was no different, his bag felt heavier and his eyes were pinned to the tile floors. Most of the typically boisterous jocks we tutored were quiet and left their usual greetings at small pats on the back, a small chat, and short goodbyes. All the small-town gossip he'd slowly been getting used to was hushed and brief like everyone was trying to hide something. Even the other big city kids who'd recently moved to one of the larger towns a short drive away, Oscar included, kept quiet and unsure about everything, though that was far from unusual for him.

Today marked the second week since George went missing.

One day, the police busted an extremely obvious operation outside his town, getting the jump on a bunch of overconfident thugs who convinced themselves the cops weren't just waiting for them to slip up on a big deal, and the next he was gone. The only people up to no good in that entire direction of the school were gone, yet that was when the school's collective big brother vanished into thin air. Nobody knew where he'd gone, he and the local prankster were the last ones who saw him, though they kept the tiny handful of stuff they snatched from that rotting building on the downlow. Their talks with the officers revealed nothing new.

Even the dogs' noses turned up nothing. George had dog-sat at least two of them and they still couldn't find him. The more advanced trackers couldn't pick up a trail, the heavy rain washed the scent right out of the air while the less effective dogs who sniffed through the soil could only go so far. His trail went cold at that rotting house. They could figure out where the police the day before had taken the crooks before they picked up George's smell down at a small, mostly debris-covered basement segment of that building. Many people, including George's parents and his Dad's military friends, only found a cramped space that looked like a very isolated hurricane passed through. Other than another pile of rubble piled up in the corner, there was no place for him to hide and they tore through the pile in seconds.

There was nothing.

Not a shoe, not a footprint, not even a strand of wavy blonde hair. It was as if he vanished into thin air. Searches in the forestry around his town had begun, even some of the folks from another district helped brave the dense woods. It didn't make a difference but it was nice to see. George was a good camper, he'd heard, and should've known what to do if he got lost, he should've turned up a week ago. But here they were on week two, still with no new clues about what happened to their best friend since the day after he was reported missing.

"Ay, Ozzie."

One of the guys he tutored popped up behind him while hauling his backpack over his shoulder. Even the quarterback was quieter than normal. They walked to algebra together and greeted their teacher with a nod. Oscar didn't talk much, he never had, it was hard to find the right words, but he didn't need to to get good grades and for his neighbors to know something was off. His glasses were pretty obviously crooked and his favorite blue hoodie was visibly unironed. Though he felt like he deserved to be this quiet for a change, a lot of people did; everyone's best friend was missing.

-<🌀>-

Another day, another pointless search. Every stone this side of town had been turned up, they'd looked right through every tree between the house and school, they'd asked everyone in the next few towns over. Nothing. Her baby boy had fallen right off the face of the earth. He couldn't have run away, but nobody in town would've taken him, all the delinquents were taken care of and he'd been seen running through the rain right before he went missing! People had seen him, people had spent the afternoon with him, and nobody knew what happened! Her boy was gone and nobody could do a thing about it!

"Mommy?"

Maria's tiny voice poked out from behind the corner of the hall leading to her and George's rooms, she was holding a sheet of paper and some crayons. She had her Dad's big brown eyes, as did George. He'd taken some of his friends out for another sweep of the forest. They were looking around the edge of a highway, next, even though they doubted their boy would try catching a ride home when he could turn around and get there, let alone linger enough for them to find him sleeping on the pavement, but that was the next quadrant on the list.

"What is it, sweetie?" She wiped her runny makeup and got up from the dining room table.

Maria hopped over to her. "Is George back yet?"

"...No, honey, not today." She swallowed and confirmed as much to herself as her little girl.

"But Doctor Strange and Godzilla said he'd be back soon!" She pouted and held up the page like it was proof her big brother was right there with them.

She took the page and held it open while rubbing her face with a makeup wipe. It was a very good drawing. Someone, one of George's friends (it was Maxine, if she remembered correctly, maybe Jane did it) taught her to outline her art with marker and fill it in with colored pencils, as well as some rough crosshatching. There were two figures. The first was a shadow cloaked in bright red with a hood obscuring their face, though she could've sworn the superhero had a tall collar like an old vampire. Other than a gold trim to the fabric and a brown and light blue arm holding a purple staff with a big eye on the top, there wasn't much detail to the mage. The other was even harder to make out, it looked like a pure black cat or dog with wings, though it was supposedly Godzilla. Besides some green and blue details like shading and a pair of blank white eyes, she couldn't really tell what she was looking at, but definitely something from the old movies box.

"How about I show this to daddy when he gets back?" She offered, not wanting Maria to be upset and grateful she was too sweet to understand why her big brother wasn't coming home.

"Okay!" She smiled brightly, but all the weeping woman saw was the same grin on her son when he was that age.

She inhaled and looked at the time. It was getting late and she was not ready to cook anything. "How about we get some pizza and watch a movie?"

-<🌀>-

He'd spent the morning looting just about anything from their old house that he reasonably could. While challenging and painful with one arm wrapped tightly in a cast, he'd felt worse and was more than able to pile some stuff in his wings. Besides furniture, their new house was empty. The living room was connected to the kitchen, just like their old place, and a small staircase led up to their rooms, but each was very obviously Element-themed. The pool was on the other side of the living room while an archway of branches and vibrant green leaves topped with a glowing green Life symbol, a square doorway of rock covered in glowing fiery details up to a Fire emblem, and a smooth and thin silver arch spotted with glowing pink and purple crystals up to a Magic sigil sat along the indoor overhang about the curved staircase. They hadn't made or decided what the rooms beneath the overhang were going to be, yet, but they didn't have the Creation Crystals to make them, anyway.

Other than what was expected, there was just his share of the Creation Crystals. Quite a few Minor ones, a good chunk of Standards, and the whole team had one collective Major Crystal they needed to be together to agree on what to do with. Odds were it was going to be a gym-adjacent thingamabob; Eruptor liked having something fireproof to punch, and he and Stealth Elf could use a sturdier routine since they weren't getting up for the Academy from now on. Really, Spyro knew what it was getting used for and what, other than a punching ba,g was being shoved in there, he was just waiting for their consent.

But he had his own starter set to use. With nothing else to do and nobody to check on, he had nothing left but to get on it. He tried not to let the box rest on his broken arm and used his wings to scale the stairs. Biting the silver door handle to open it wasn't on the list of things he'd wanted to do when he finally got his own house. Every time he came up here, he further regretted reflexively shutting the door behind him, he and the whole team just valued their privacy and naturally it was only coming back to bite him. That aside, he kept it relatively the same as his old room, just bigger. Now that this was home, he finally dusted off some of the old posters and pictures he'd stuffed in the back of his old closet and found spots to put them up. He didn't even listen to a lot of those bands or follow in the footsteps of some of those specific Skylanders, he just needed something to cut down on the dead space.

There was a window over his round bed and he made the roof crystal clear. The weather could shine through, despite the small pocket dimension Eon sealed all the Skylanders' homes in for protection (technically, it wasn't possibly but likely that their home was merged with another team's or individual operator), though the look into the Skylands beyond rippled like they be staring through impossibly clean water. Rain would tap audibly, lightning would flash, the sound of thunder would be dulled but present, the morning shine would beam through on his face as he slept, and snow would pile on, but he loved it that way. Let the light burn through his corneas, let the snow need to be scraped off his roof, let the rain sing its song, he finally wasn't cooped up in the main Castle!

What he didn't like is how high up it was.

The room was built like it was a two-story building, but the upper level just had some supports stretching across where the floor would be and little more than eight colored windows themed around the Elements. It didn't need to be that high, he didn't need the translucent white lens that came with the crystals to tell an entire Major Creation Crystal was put into it. His best guess was that it was intentionally put there so Eon could indirectly teach new Skylanders to deconstruct and rebuild their rooms to their desires. Then again, he thought it was a good idea to make the Relics Room's secret lever out of easily crackable stone in a heavy, poorly balanced bust of his head right next to the smallest bookcase in his office so maybe he was giving the Portal Master's architecture skills too much credit.

Magic unlike anything he'd been allowed to directly interact with until now flowed through his body as he raised his uninjured claw to the ceiling and focused. Internally criticizing the Academy for having so few classes like this before Skylanders were expected to unmake a sliver of isolated reality, he imagined the coalescing arcana condensing in his talons. A weight fell into his paw when the process finished, shards of the large artifact rested between his claws. The colorful windows were still there, not that three or four of them would have an interesting view now, but the ceiling was a lot closer to him and the support beams were still there for him to flop on and climb along like their old apartment.

It still didn't feel like home, but it and the wall decorations were steps in the right direction, as was his next step. Spyro chose a wall, a space right next to his oversized closet again doomed to be nothing but storage, and pressed the Crystal into it, connecting the pipes and electricity to the new room. The floor was cold, white tile with some small heaters attached underneath and broken up by drains. It wasn't anything fancy, there weren't even any special details besides a sink in the background and a connection to the other side of his closet, but it would do once he got some separators and special hangers for that worthless thing to hold some vials and boxes.

He put the majority of his Creation Crystals into filling the room with a couple of tables, a few shelving units along one wall (he didn't have enough for the other and back walls, yet) for ingredients he didn't have yet, and modified the plumbing to create a watering system over on table and shifted the sink to merge with the other. There was a long list of ingredients he wanted to grow on his own, mainly healing herbs, but he needed pots and seeds before he could get started. His new salary should cover it soon, it'd just take time to get up and running. But until then, he spent his Minor Crystals on expanding his collection of beakers, graduated cylinders, pipettes, vials, stirring sticks, and an assortment of similar glassware he'd yet to find a good spot for. Wherever the first place he searched for them was would be where they lived.

On a lighter note, he could finally organize all his existing potions! One of the shelves on what would be the growing side of the room would hold them for now, but he could finally split apart all of his drinkable elixirs and directly applied oils. Fire and cold oils would be stuffed together on one side, healing and energy potions on the other... And that was it for the time being. He really needed to get a hold of some better components and start growing something other than whatever was in the parts of the garden Elfie wouldn't glare at him for approaching the wrong way.

Perhaps he could get her to grow some of the plants he needed. But that didn't account for the inorganic parts. Minerals, gems to embed in cauldrons, powders he didn't understand the make of, salts that were only made in specific places the Skylanders' Castle didn't get very close to. They would all be out of reach for a long time, what he needed to add additional effects and take his potions to higher leveks than what Proffessor PF thought any of his students would reach, what he needed to craft the perfect brew for every emergency, was tantalizingly close yet on the other side of the infinite Skylands.

He'd have to figure out the supply problem later, he needed to figure out his setup. Small stands of glassware were lined up and stacked together, he'd figured out where his burners and small cauldrons would sit until he found some proper cast-iron ones. It would have to work itself out eventually, when he got enough Major Creation Crystals for his own storage room, greenhouse, alchemy lab, and whatever else he ended up needing. He supposed he could cut up, crush, blend, or dry the harvested materials right in the storeroom, but the greenhouse and lab would need a lot of space on their own. How much could the dragon stuff in his new room before he needed another module? All questions for another time.

For now, he was finished.

Spyro had moved in before his teammates were done unboxing everything, everything in the kitchen had been given a home, both his spots were complete besides the closet storage he didn't have yet, and he'd gotten all the utilities online. The new room's lights clicked to life as soon as he walked in and the sink ran smoothly. Its water was clean; drinkable, even. Attaching a purifier to it was still on the agenda, but Eon wouldn't be happy if he left the Castle confines in this state and he didn't know what to get yet. A lot about this whole room was uncertain, also only able to be sorted out with time and experience.

But until then, he was done.

Eruptor and Stealth Elf were still gone. They had people to go back to and connections outside of the Academy.

But Spyro was still here, he didn't have anyone waiting for him to come home, he'd never really left the Castle.

He didn't have a home, he didn't have parents or friends or somewhere to crash while he got on his feet. Now he was in the Book of Skylanders and his entire life was set out for him.

This was his life and he had no way out, if he wanted it.

-<🌀>-

Shattered airships, popped blimps, weapons, armor, and even some land armaments like walkers and tanks filled the horizon before Eugenie's wide eyes. The gross gray sky didn't help the look of the scene, dulling what little color remained in the mountain-high piles of scrap. Most were wood, as expected when all the vessels she'd seen floating between the airborne Stormy Stronghold and Cadaverous Crypts had been pre-Civil War boats, but almost every one of them was of slightly different make. There were a few with giant iron plates on the front like flying snowplows, those were often covered in large coats of countless stitched furs like insulation. Maybe they were built to fly through fiery areas? But in that case, why were they affixed with snowflakes and watery iconography? In fact, a lot of those boats looked ready to sail through lava and fly right over a forest fire, but there were little to no obvious Fire symbols.

All of their construction differences were pretty clearly of differing styles. Some were longer with room for oars (How do those work in the sky? Are there large enough bodies of water for them to float?) while others were deeper so they could carry more ammo for more cannons. There were a couple of ships with snakes like old-timey medical frigates and plenty of smaller boats full of wooden crates of tools like bent wrenches, broken hammers, boxes of rusty nails, and tons of rotting planks.

Not to say there weren't any metal ships, if they could be called ships. Mixed with what were hilariously blatantly tanks in a realm of floating islands stood several lopsided, uneven, rusty, and heavily dented steel ships. As the scents of wet wood and charcoal overpowered most of the expansive island, the chill of metal drowned in mud peeked through the gaps in the shifting winds. Although it didn't look like the mud was from anywhere but the gigantic scrapyard, the spots were as dark as the floraless ground and glistened with fresh rainwater wherever there weren't graying streaks falling down to the barren soil.

And they all looked so... warped. She couldn't put her finger on it at first, but the one constant was the immense flames that weren't there. Wood was blackened and falling apart, metals were melted to the point that cooled blobs of amalgamated armor were visible long after the ships were decommissioned. The sails were either gone or reduced to a ton of disconnected scraps of charred canvas dangling limply from masts that'd been snapped like they were naught but twigs. Entire ships appeared to be bisected like the multiple layers of solid iron were a single sheet of wet paper.

What could've done this? The question was almost as loud as the grinding of industrial machinery, screeching of metal, hiss of plasma cutters, whirring of woodchippers, and wooshing of distant skyscraper cranes. None of the guards, even at the big castle she'd just teleported away from, could fight like this. Honestly, she'd been starting to question if they had fought; they were casual and chill, even with her constant fumbling and flinging around the corners and halls with magic she didn't have the coordination to use, not the vigilant and stab-ready knights that should stand strong on the battlefield, she figured as if she was a soldier.

Maybe nothing in particular. Maybe this was just a ship graveyard being plundered for resources. No plants, minerals, or grand sources of primeval magic decorated the kingdom's broken, gray, and dead landscape. Undead needed none of the above but the money had to flow from somewhere. And flow it did, based on the absurd amounts of obsidian structures, gold trims, embedded gems, and red carpets filling the entire place. Most simple story books she could understand, but missing black dragoness's collection of magic tomes couldn't be as 'cheap' as the Portal Master's uni textbooks.

Cynder's home must've broken down, repurposed, or just refurbished destroyed skyships and resold to the highest builder. When everything that couldn't be reached by a bridge needed ships to fly back and forth for every little thing, where better to send ships to be melted down and repaired than a kingdom of islands with nothing of substance that clould catch on fire? Might as well put these dead and worthless islands to work tearing apart and putting back together everything they could salvage.

Maybe that was how Cynder's parents got in charge! If some random Count could buy out enough people and islands to drive an entire economy by himself, no matter who he stomped on in the process of building a robotic army, then her parents probably made some decent financial decisions to become King and Queen. Because there was no way all of these ships could come from the same place, they had to be imported for repairs or bought for salvage from all around Skylands.

Had Cynder ever mentioned her Mother?

"Hey, kid, you gotta pass ta be here?" A raspy voice snapped.

A pair of skeletons with welding masks and fuel tank backpacks stood behind her, one lightly nudging the other back as he narrowed his eyes. "Hang on, check her cloak." He recommended and started heading back.

She uncomfortably waved to the first skelly as he eyes the golden ornament of her crimson cape, staring into the dark gems of the spiky dragon's eyes. "Carry on." He eventually waved her off entirely and turned away.

Despite her sprained ankle, she couldn't help wandering around a little bit. There were so many interesting designs and artsy forms of damage to look at! What shapes could she see in the deformities? And what faraway nations' colors had yet to be burnt or washed or corroded off? Was there anything left behind? Not every one of these things could've been properly searched and gutted, she could still find something cool! Eugenie didn't know what 'cool' entailed in a massive magical setting but she could still find a neat-looking paperweight.

-<🌀>-

The dragon sped through his playlists for what felt like hours, starting and stopping songs almost as soon as he selected one. So many of these were dated and unpopular, now, made from the least intolerable songs whenever that album came out. It was hard to pin down anything he actually liked, especially when so much of it was so old now, he still had bubbly hiphop crap from when he was a Cadet and was happy to clear it out as his wings stretched over his newly made, and repeatedly remade, uneven and stiff bed that he'd had for way too long.

Rock and metal were immediate no-gos, the son of the most powerful and wise Portal Master to exist couldn't be caught dead engaging in that, it was a liberty for anyone beneath nobility before they became Skylanders. Eon's favorite band kind of fell into that category, but they were more of a mixed bag and he usually didn't listen to music while he worked or rested, anyway. Electronic was more of a Tech thing, especially unbecoming for someone of the Magic Element. The same went for slower-paced piano, but that and the organ were largely considered part of Undead culture, not his. The same went for brass and Air and Water, though the former dealt with a lot of woodwinds that could tickle his fancy. Classical had never pulled him in, not unless it was highly fast-paced, another thing often associated with Air.

Spyro landed on something becoming widely popular from an Air kingdom, something quick and full of flutes and cellos telling some story about a hero with shiny teal skin and a large, wavy beard hurling golden lightning bolts from the top of a pure white cloud. He didn't know the grand tale behind the figure's deeds, just that the instrumental was the least unfavorable of his options. His teeth clattered together in pain as he shifted on his cast arm wrong, but most of the healing had been finished by the mummy-like internal bandages.

Honestly, he wasn't even listening, he just needed something tolerable to drown out all the silence until Elfie and Eruptor got home. Home he repeated to himself, this place wasn't his and hadn't even been lived in, yet. It was sterile when they got here, reeking of cleaning chemicals. Maybe a long-dead Skylander once lived here, but nobody had touched the place in a long time, not until it was time to prime it for their arrival.

There was no task to be done right now, nothing he could do without leaving the house for parts with his bag of hard-earned gold coins before the Final Trials, he'd checked. Another option was streamlining the Creation Crystals, he might be able to get one or two back from his room, though he wasn't sure what he'd spend them on; spending gold on the water purifier sounded like the better option, there were better things to spend Creation Crystals on, like a 3D printer for his more complex projects and an easy fix for smaller problems. He needed to figure out how to replicate something of that complexity, first, and there was no way he was asking someone from the Tech Element while he, 'the almighty Spyro', was limping along.

He searched his contacts for anyone safe to chat with. Eon was an instant no, the Portal Master was always busy and expected the most from him. Stealth Elf might be fine, her tree couldn't exactly hold a conversation, but that didn't mean she was available. She wasn't a talker in her own right but there was a difference between silent and willing to be bothered. Eruptor might've been the same, it depended on how long he'd been dealing with his parents. If the Lava Elemental got there earlier, then his folks were probably in the middle of or boiling into an argument he'd want an excuse to get away from, but he could also be interrupting the nice grace period right before it. The dragon wouldn't know when he was ruining the moment until it was too late, best to keep his distance...

And that was it.

His entire contact list had been cleaned out multiple times, usually once per year, to keep his data tidy and stay on the straight and narrow. Not like he'd gotten many numbers before then, nor did he so haphazardly pass his number out, especially since everyone important was within talking distance until the holidays and the rest's big moments he was expected to be there for or acknowledge were fleeting. It'd been a while since he had a real talk with someone.

Cynder, in fact, was the only one who came to mind. She'd been understanding, but he'd put a lot more on her than he should've in his whole lifetime. He'd more than fulfilled his mistake threshold with her and, admittedly, didn't want to push the dragoness away. They were the only others of their kind they'd ever met, he couldn't afford to be hasty and childish. He wouldn't cry or let his guard down, he couldn't. Cynder deserved at least that much for helping save the Core of Light, not someone who didn't even pass the Final Trials and needed her to prop him up. He wouldn't make that mistake again, not ever, he owed it to her. She just caught him at some bad times and didn't deserve to put up with a defective Skylander.

He didn't have her phone number, anyway, but that was aside the point.

So he wouldn't be allowed to train in this state, didn't have anything else to fix or put away, and didn't have anyone to talk to.

...

...Screw this...

Spyro cut the music and headed for the bathroom, applied his makeup, adjusted his frill, and flew out the door. His foreleg would be fine as long as he didn't put pressure on it.

Nobody noticed him slip away, they never did, the heavy flaps of his broad wings swung through the air like the propellers of a grand airship as he surveyed the new area, unsure when the Castle had been moved. Eon always took care to ensure it was as unintrusive as possible. Spyro darted between islands and dashed straight through clouds. While a little more straining on his wings than normal, the relative freedom of flight and the wind in his frill almost uplifted his heart.

He quickly deduced where the Skylanders had moved. The Arcanum City was as big as it was magically inclined. He didn't need to know the Portal Master brought them to areas strong in Magic or Life to see the raw, untamable power of Magic flowing down the city streets far below him. A towering place, constructed from crystal and gold, with the architecture of a truly ancient civilization. It was constructed in layers, the points where the materials had been broken through and changed were obvious; starting with rounded and poorly clay-filled stones, moving on to better cut and cared for brick, and ending in a series of triangular cement blocks coated in gold and covered in arcane etchings. This place's economics had always been one of its main concerns, second only to defense.

The abundant magic pylons lining the city border hummed with countless prepared spells. The gold spires were covered in linear runes like piping for their abundant power up to the large, colorful crystals suspended at their peaks and bound by a spiky gold cone roof like they were wearing crowns. Each was tightly wrapped in lengthy and silky smooth paper covered end to end in several yards-long gold-speckled ink. The two he flew between were of enlarged Fireballs and rapid-fire Ice Knives, but all acted as a conduit for the lightly shimmering magic shield gently enveloping the entire island. The only way any army had ever brought the populace to their knees was after an extremely long, grueling, and soul-shattering siege, and not for the people within.

A constant barrage of spells kept the armies of the Dark Master, Corruptor, and even the old Doom Raiders from tightening their hold on the city, forcing them to widen the range of their blockades and spread their forces too thin to effectively prevent small supply ships from slipping through the cracks. The sheer diversity of the spells' areas, frequencies, and ranges made finding gaps in the kill zones impossible; the equally varied damage types made buffs and items protecting soldiers from the unstoppable onslaught just as insurmountable. All that before they even encountered the looming walls and lines of defenders.

Granted, the soldiers weren't much. Mostly consisting of Mabu and crystalline people, they were academics and businesspeople, not fighters. Instead, their military was made mostly of commanders who rarely faced the frontlines and swathes of constructs. Animated spells like Burning Hands crawling across the open fields beyond the city walls and sapient Poison Clouds wafting wherever they were needed, mostly supporting formless masses of uncontrolled magic given the vague shape of arms and a head by parchment. Some of them were armed with goled weapons that acted more like foci or pointers for the damage type they were created with than weapons meant to slash and rend, but most just expelled power from their appendages.

He passed many of them on the castle walls as he descended upon the city; they only left their posts for maintenance and upgrades. All sorts of magic shops lined the streets while the homes were either built on top of the stores or kept further in the city, safe behind the maze of crystal and gold streets patrolled by their artificial protectors. It wasn't that he had something against this side of the city, it just didn't have anything useful to him. It was more for decorations and souvenirs than useful tools.

The real goods, all the magic items, golem kits, scroll components, spellbooks, and enchantment tomes, especially the highest quality ones, were kept at the peak of Cat's Eye Mountain. Given its name for the somewhat line-shaped range with the glowing gold city surrounding it like an iris, it was the highlight of the entire city. The nobility lived there, as did a lot of the best craftsmen, and many high-grade academies competed for control and status between fights over the borders of their campuses. Not the place to get some of the mechanical parts he was looking for, but holding something worth his time and money nonetheless.

Dodging some flying ships with ease, Spyro started gliding to the mountain's summit. While the ships had to go through rigorous inspection processes, the shield about the outside of the city and its highest point, where the nobles and congress met, had built-in exceptions for their guardians and Skylanders. Spyro could weave through the rippling barriers with ease and landed on a relatively uninhabited street. Some curious eyes followed him, seeing him move through the blockade without issue, but few tried to follow him as he walked on the tips of his wings and window shopped. The lack of his exhaustingly friendly and cocky smile that seldom met his dull, cold reptilian eyes probably didn't help.

A small flower shop caught his eye, it had plenty of arcane seeds and fertile soil for sale, including healing herbs. It happened to be owned, if not manned, by a leaf dragon Skylander by the name of Camo. The Mabu employees had never met their boss but knew well the large discount he demanded they provide for other Skylanders, not an uncommon break by any means but more impactful here than most others, especially in his situation. The shop even extended a smaller coupon to anyone who was at least a Cadet.

Once he reluctantly showed his Skylander markings, lightly illuminating the shop with the soft pink glow of string-like lines covered in sparks following and wrapping around his limbs, currently featureless spell circles along his joints and wing membranes, and curving and flowing like freed plasma. Showing it off twisted his stomach into a painful knot. The 'Skylander' who hadn't passed the Final Trials abusing his status for cheaper stuff.

They were kind enough to hold onto the items for the day while he finished browsing the Cat's Eye Mountain. Some interesting spellbooks filled some bookshops, as did many academic papers on the natural of Elements and the magics that connected them, but the most worthwhile of them were out of his price range for now. There were too many other things on his to do list, right now, but he kept an eye on certain enchanted items and noted some of the tomes' names to see if he could find them in Master Eon's library.

He only entered and browsed one more store, a blacksmith's shop, because it was very empty. No gawking people, and probably nothing that justified showing his Skylander markings. It would be as easy to fly under the radar as it would be for a brightly colored dragon wearing an obvious cast. His horns peeked over the tops of the displays as he wandered between some tables, only occasionally picking up some moderately interesting items. His focus was more on function than fashion. If it was gold, cool, if not, he didn't care as long as it didn't violently clash with his look. The stock mostly consisted of minorly enchanted gauntlets and metal masks, but those were the only consistencies. Each had some form of protection, maybe a damage resistance on the more expensive end, or a small damage reduction magically spread throughout the body.

Nonetheless, he could tell just by the numerous, well-stocked stands that the forger knew where to get their supplies and how to churn out all the product they'd need. It became clear that the tables and stands holding golden, crystal-encrusted jewelry were just their proof of skill; almost everything had a sign above it recommending they ask the shop owner about custom items and more specialised enchantments before they decided on a purchase. He could feel the heat of the forge radiate from the back room as the door opened and blacksmith stepped out.

"Hello! Sorry I missed you! Find everything you're looking for?"

The Feathercat's voice had a playful growl to it, like she'd been waiting for something to pounce on. Her color palette was, if he was being honest, a little confusing; pale purple made up the majority of her short fur, bright white covered her longer-haired underbelly, and deeper magenta mixed with a touch of pink at the very tips of the tufts covered the ends of her wide wings and bushy tail. And yet, he could feel a strong affinity for the Air Element through the obviously Magic-inclined fur of confusingly varying lengths and feathers. Her inner ears were the same somewhat lighter purple-pink as the tips of her feathers and a pair of admirably lively blue eyes greeted him. She only had three clawed toes on each foot, the same pale purple as most of her hair, and all four of them thudded as she hopped on top of the register to keep an eye on her stock.

"Just looking around, for now." He shrugged and mustered his big grin.

She could see how forced it was, almost tilting her head in interest, but didn't push further and presumably assumed it was just his broken leg dragging the mood down. "Oh! That one's a Waterbreathing ring! Most people use sapphires for the Water connections, but I ground a breeze crystal into dust inside the gold so it could benefit Air Skylanders." She excitedly explained as he palmed the deceptively simple gold band.

"A fan?" Spyro hazarded a guess, though he didn't look at her so he didn't have to keep forcing a tiring grin. He did not have the energy to deal with people right now, but he didn't want to come off as rude when she was just trying to make conversation with her only customer.

The cat grinned a tad unnaturally wide. "Isn't everyone? You've gotta have heard about the dragon who fought a Dark Portal Master before he joined! He saved Skylands before he graduated!"

And still didn't earn it. "What's the tea?" He internally debated making her day.

"An Aspirant named Spyro challenged him right after he froze the Book of Skylanders, 1v1! He almost won, too! All by himself!" She exclaimed like this chat was the most interesting thing that'd happened all day. It certainly was for him.

Almost Spyro stretched his wings, carefully bending them around the stands as the bones popped and nonchalantly let his Skylander tattoos shine. Their cores rippled like unstable plasma and their details solidified like solid beams of light guiding pure power through his scales from the tips of his horns to the point of his tail.

The young but creative Feathercat's big eyes widened like crystal orbs. "NO WAY!"

"Hey." He gave a half-hearted thumbs-up and gently put back the Waterbreathing ring.

She blinked and looked between him and the forge room a few times. "WAIT HERE!"

Reappearing almost as soon as she vanished, the Feathercat momentarily juggled another ring like it was fresh out of the fires before she happily handed it off to him. It was a rose gold band with a protrusion on the back that covered his knuckle. The fine details, though little more than a few squiggles around the glowing, diamond-shaped gem in the center, were colored normal gold. It took some fiddling, not made with the measurements of his talons, but eventually blinked contentedly like it was comfy and activated. His lungs felt like they cleared out and the static clouding his thoughts faded a little. The unnoticed hunger and thirst of another skipped breakfast vanished like sand through his paws.

"It's a Ring of Sustenance mixed with a Ring of Protection." She smiled and tapped her forelegs anxiously. "The defense bonus isn't exactly... great, but there's no need for food or water and only 2 hours of sleep until you're done with it."

Spyro flexed his fist experimentally until he was satisfied it wouldn't slip off in the middle of a fight. Armor and physical items were more of Drobot's thing than his, he favored the flow of magic like currents of pure plasma just beneath his scales and the way it flared and trailed behind him like thunder, but he couldn't deny the combined hexes felt good as they gleefully surged along his markings. The only issue was magic items were expensive, especially in such a city that made its entire fortune on making some of the best. And someone was bound to ask what it was for and why he needed it.

"I'm not sure I can afford this, yet." He admitted but left the opportunity open. Any Ring of Sustenance sounded very nice.

"It's not for sale." The cat smiled unnaturally widely again, it was getting hard to tell if that was just how her mouth was or if she'd flashed the dead-inside customer service smile so many times that it was all she knew. "You're a new Skylander, so you'll be fighting the trolls at the Mabu United Front, soon, right? I heard they like sending their combat drones out at night, but this should make any war of attrition way easier."

The Elemental Paragon blinked in surprise. "I-I can't accept this-" He started.

"Sure you can! Consider it our thanks!" Her light purple claws scraped and tapped against the golden floor like an excited little dance.

He took a breath and relented. She had no idea how regularly he pulled all-nighters. Anyway, only two hours every night instead of eight of one and zero of another would be a huge help. "...Thanks, I won't let'cha down...?" Spyro grinned and nodded while running the talon tips peeking out of his cast over the ring.

She sat back and held her face like she was hiding a blush behind her pale fur. "Sally! Everyone calls me Scratch!" Then she glanced to the floor and adjusted her footing to be a bit more proper. "You, uh, if it's not to much to ask, could you put in a good word with the Skylanders for me?"

"I dunno how much Master Eon will hear me out on that, but I'll try." He answered honestly and bid the excitable Feathercat farewell before finishing his trip around the city.

Chapter Text

Eugenie might've overestimated the junkyard's safety. There wasn't a whole lot in the way of Undead workers or equipment the closer she got to the center of the island, but there were definitely plenty of large debris piles and crumbling ships to be had. They looked like mountains, some of them were mountains, and almost all of them were leaking industrial fluids or dropping major components. She had to float above sharp gears and around rusty support beams that'd impaled the dirt like a bunch of falling ballista bolts. It was fortunate that nobody seemed to be around when they fell. The sudden fear of 'up' now ingrained into her, the Portal Master weaved freely through the mountainous piles and was sure to keep her distance. As far as she could tell, there was nothing dangling from the peaks of the piles and hanging precariously over the pathways between, but she wasn't taking chances wherever she had the choice.

The land itself felt toxic, the wrecks felt toxic, like a thick film of bleach clinging to her skin and dense smoke wafting up her nostrils. Her nose burned and eyes watered in some parts, her body was reacting to a poison fog that wasn't there. It made her arms feel heavy and non-windy foot drag. She could feel eyes on her back, but nothing was there no matter where or when she turned around. Were her bones getting brittle? Were her guts shriveling? She couldn't tell but didn't doubt it. Maybe this was why the workers pulled so much material from the perimeter of the isle instead of seeing what unclaimed valuables were buried in the core of their salvage, she couldn't blame them.

Not that it deterred her. Whatever they missed out on, she'd pick up as long as she didn't get crushed. Some of the machines were still whirring and propellers squeaked in the light breeze. Why the manufacturers put so much extra material into making the blades look like dragon wings, she only somewhat got. Slightly tougher canvas for the more exposed sails, softer but better Air enchantable fabrics for the propellers; all the stability came from the metal bones and something about the material and weaving was good for conducting aeromancy. How so, she'd yet to study; she'd delved the most into basic and intermediate spellwork instead of magic items. I should get on that.

Far from a woodworker and even further from a welder, there wasn't a lot she could do to fix up these ships or tear them apart, nor could she tell what was valuable or useful. None of the abandoned tools were better than the stuff at the market that didn't look like they were rotting away. Nothing was in such a state that it would rot away in her hand, but that didn't make them worthwhile. She had to go pretty deep to begin discovering some definitely untouched and unlooted salvage. Gears, springs, rotting planks, deformed metal slabs, sheets of canvas sails, and a massive assortment of other mechanical parts completely covered the dead land and piled high like a polluted sea.

Other than keeping her sprained ankle above the mess, it wasn't too difficult to get around. Parts scattered out of the way and wind whistled through the cracks and holes, displacing the unsteady damage so her other foot could easily find solid ground. She peeked into some dark captains' quarters and sorted through the interiors of their bows, often making use of the light on her phone and large holes in the sides. Some of them at least had chests, but a lot were for decayed rations and melted-together ammunition for the cannons and ballista mounted on the decks and peeking their liquified openings out of the sides were the metal had either burned through the charred wood or fused with the metal hulls.

The adventuring girl found some small valuables like melted necklaces, soot-covered lockets, and some rings and bracers wrapped around charred cylinders that crumbled like dust in the palm of her hand as she looted them. She didn't even have a moment to try to figure out what the tiny treasure had melted onto before the evidence turned to ashes and black clods no bigger than her fingertips. Long-lost helmets and some disorganised pieces of other armors were rolling around as her footsteps shifted the floorboards. Too small for her head and grossly malformed by extreme heat and dents, they had no use beyond being sold. She stacked them in a small pile in the open as she investigated other ships. Again, there were a lot of bits of malformed armor, and even some weapons, buried in charcoal walls or welded to the metal ships.

Eugenie jostled loose whatever she could but didn't expect to fetch too high a price from the corroded and warped metals on the ends of burnt handles, though she happily made mental notes of where each weapon came from. Some of the more generic, undecorated, and standard boat-like vessels she found had short spears, shields, visorless knight helms, small chestplates, and a few blobs of combined arrowheads. If Cynder's fort had a forge, she might be able to sell this to someone there, but she kept them separate from the majority of her loot in case she couldn't carry it all in one trip.

Other ships were very different from 'vaguely European soldier' and airborne versions of the British Navy during the Revolutionary War. The more intact, formerly way sturdier ships looked like they were used by Vikings whose equipment was a little more her size. Despite the historical fantasy of raiders with horned helms being horrifically dangerous and inaccurate, due to the problem of having a pair of handles to rip off a helmet or swing around someone's skull, there were tons of dented and heated helmets embedded in the walls or toppled onto the floor. Unlike the quantity over quality suits in the worse-off ships, these were clearly the boats of experienced and skilled warriors.

Aside from the better structure and resilience, not that it made much of a difference in their scorched states, the fur and metal armor had lasted a lot longer, didn't melt as badly, and weren't very rusted. It looked like a case of foot soldiers like knights for the mole people she'd met when she first arrived, and higher-end ones fashioned after Vikings by more humanoid figures, though clearly from very different kingdoms. The poor rodents must've lasted a fraction as long as their horned counterparts, who'd been armed with now dulled and bent axes, cooked wooden shields, insufficiently protected by torn breastplates, and wrapped in thick furs.

Even those weren't quite as intact as the sleekest of the metallic ships. The less burnt ends still had chips of white and light blue paint over the thin sheets, painted in snowflake and icicle designs broken up by the large, deep gashes in their sides like a massive animal slashed through them. Where there weren't inward holes from cannonballs still within and melded to the walls of the boats, something had cut through them like it had chainsaws for talons. Those ones used more skinny, long, and once smooth but now twisted engines on the bottoms of narrow and delicate wings than large masts, although they were built with some lightweight metal oars. The pieces of armor here were given wings on the helmets like Thor, though the only weapons she could find were a small handful of swords and a ton of strong, mostly intact shields. But even they were gone now.

Searching the premises felt like intruding on a graveyard. Not one for the ships, but for the people who were burnt to a crisp and whose armor, weapons, and ornamental memorabilia had been left behind. What was originally in those mole-person lockets she'd dug out of the ashes of their comparatively flimsy and flammable boats way after they'd been brought to their knees? Did they have pictures of family in there? Their kids? A lover? She'd never know, they'd all been burned away and the trinkets had been hammered and melted shut. So many final moments caught in the tiny splotches of less-blackened outlines with faint details down to the positioning of the Mabus' spears and whether they'd been seated at the oars or standing with their shields helplessly held in front of their faces.

What was left behind? What had been abandoned by their comrades?

What was she taking?

She swallowed the lump in her throat and powered through the knot in her stomach. Her injured foot slid and shifted painfully as her breathing caught and focus waned. Eugenie blew a gust of air down and around her pile of stolen armaments to blow away everything that wasn't safe to take a rest on. Her knees thudded on the edges of a large, jagged, dislocated panel. Air flowed and spiraled down her wrists to her fingers, protecting her hands from the blobby and dull melted equipment as she sorted them and prepared to wrap everything she could into her cloak.

Yet almost the second she removed her dragon-crested cloak, a light wind brushed through her golden hair. Discordant, dissonant, and distant whispers like someone leaning right into her ear came through the spires of burnt and rusted metal. It spoke with no voice, originated from everywhere without changing their direction in the slightest, whistled innocently, and filled the air with the wish to be free. Her ears found only silence, her eyes saw nothing out of the ordinary, and her nose picked up nothing but silt and mildew, yet she could somehow understand the nonexistent voices.

Were they calling to her? No, they weren't really there, they weren't really speaking. As she did her best to think of it like she was picking up a signal not meant for her, but calling out to the void like an SOS, the message became clearer. It wasn't a message, it was an aura of arcane power she didn't understand and couldn't wrap her head around. Was this something she was supposed to be sensing? Did this count as sensing? Eugenie wasn't seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, or tasting anything, but her hairs stood on end and goosebumps shivered down her spine. She was 'feeling' something, but nothing tangible or physical.

She wasn't experiencing this through her body; she was feeling it through magic.

Was this what it meant to sense magic? Whatever it was, she followed. The aura guided her not directly through the piles of salvage, but around them and along the sides like a gust following the path of least resistance. She got sent off-course several times as the flow didn't lead directly to the source, its power was wafting outward in all directions, reaching all around the maze of ruins. It was only when the stream started fading did she realize she'd taken a wrong turn. The trail led her right back to where the pile of treasure had been resting on her cloak a few times before her mental map started tying the loops together and ran down the list of twists bringing her right past the center of the flowing magic;

A single, rusty, rending, half-melted ship still silently whistling with sealed away power only she could sense.

-<🌀>-

The Grandmaster's hut was built into the roots of a tall, broad tree, small and quaint. Even in her old age, the old ninja spent a lot of her time outdoors. A large garden of her own fruits here, some training dummies there, and Whisper Elf was running and bouncing between them all. She did flips over gourds as big as her entire body and kicked off of scarecrows while Stealth Elf and Cami Flage caught up. Turns out the new apprentice wasn't as new as the Skylander thought, her replacement was on the back burner right before she set off for the Skylander Academy.

Another of two little girls found in the aftermath of some sort of conflict, but there were a lot more details on what happened in Whisper's past than Elfie's. She'd just been found as a child being taken care of entirely by her tree before the Grandmaster got her some clothes, training, and a roof; Wisp's parents were the victims of a small-scale invasion. It was Stealth's turn to be the victim of never writing or phoning home, as the entire attack went completely under her radar.

A joint attack of Drow and skeletons got the jump on many quiet villages on the fringes of her old life, bringing them all to ruin in an instant. The little apprentice was one of the only survivors, having been hidden behind her crib just before some soldiers stormed her home and stole everything that wasn't nailed down. That was why the majority of the civilian, ninja-indifferent population of their islands had changed their tune and either moved far away or worked for the clans. Grandmaster had done her best to cut through the raids when she happened across Whisper and took the tiny elf with her in their retreat.

Stealth Elf didn't even get to see her replacement be chosen before the attacks started going deeper and deeper into the woods, quickly getting slaughtered in droves by a mix of the ninjas she'd grown up and trained with and the forest itself. Not even her clan and its druidic favoritism of nature were spared from the woods' sudden animation and attacks. Nobody knew what caused the sudden uproar, Elfie hadn't even gotten to see it happen, just that it didn't stop when the Drow and skellies were defeated and keeping the little survivor from adventuring into the woods was an ongoing war.

Next to nobody had been allowed into the heart of the forest ever since; those who hadn't heeded the elders' warnings were seldom heard from again. Those who had could barely walk, frequently fell to strange poisons and necrosis soon after, and left the island with haste. Not that the stories bothered Whisper Elf, if she was even paying attention as she quickly stabbed through some dummies' chests with her wooden stakes. She'd make a good Undead combatant if she weren't of the Life Element.

"What's in the forest?" Elfie asked as her Grandmaster opened the door and welcomed the Skylander back, gesturing for Whisper Elf to come over, too.

The old woman shrugged while the little girl happily rushed through the doorway. "Corpses that walk, vines that strangle, hungering flowers; if a moving plant could figure it out or it's a Life spell, it's happened. Not one of us has been able to find the cause or a counterspell, we're starting to believe a Blight has formed."

"But the forest hasn't been growing." Elfie pointed out. Her Grandmaster flicked a pointed ear and tilted her head. "Blights cause the land they're part of to grow out of control and devour other ecosystems, but the forest was only regrowing over those villages when I got here. If it were a Blight, I'd know, it would've started connecting to and infesting tons of other islands by now." She explained. "It could be a Broodmoss or just a witch. I should be able to rule out that and a Fae if I can see the zombies." She shrugged.

Whisper Elf sped into the hut as a blur while the Grandmaster mulled it over and flicked her dense hair out of her face. "We haven't found a Broodmoss Stalk, so it's not spreading through people."

"So it should be an advanced witch or Fae curse-" Stealth Elf started with her hands drifting toward the bottoms of her fang daggers.

Cami Flage waved her hand for her pupil to stop. "Don't worry about that right now, you haven't even taken your bag off."

The Skylander blinked and realized before sliding the bag off her shoulders. "I forgot about this thing."

Her old master chuckled and messed up her hair with a palm. Hair she'd spent a frustratingly long time wrestling with in the early hours of the morning, she mentally added. "I remember when you would've been dragging this thing behind you!" The cooky old woman welcomed her inside and lightly shut the door behind the three Forest Elves. "Whisper, dear, could you grab us some tea?"

The little girl had been pacing impatiently before she was given her task. Her whole tiny body perked up and her eyes squinted with a big smile behind her brown bandana. "Yes, Miss Cami Flage!" '

In a puff of green smoke, the little student vanished and some clanging pots and pans echoed from the kitchen. I would never get to call her that. The sheer casualness of it hit like an uppercut to a glass jaw. She'd spent her whole life doing her absolute best for the Grandmaster and Sensei Ambush, succeeding like a flourishing flower garden or fluttering songbird of sparkling feathers with the very old woman she was in the same room with when it happened, and this one comes in like the elder ninja were her grandma? What did this girl get to do? What did she have on Stealth Elf? She was no Skylander, she didn't come back from anything in absolute triumph, did she?

Where did she go wrong?

A hand snapped in front of her face a few times. "Skylands to Stealth?"

Her Grandmaster shook her out of her thoughts and invited her to sit and rest. "Apologies, Grandmaster, it won't happen again."

Cami Flage waved her off again. "None of that." She leaned closer over the small wooden table beside her couch and window, then nodded lightly in the kitchen's general direction. "What about her is eating you up?"

"Nothing, Gra- Cami Flage, you've done well with her." Stealth Elf insisted while pulling her backpack to her side.

"You think you can lie to your old woman?" She laughed like she'd told a joke.

Elfie swallowed and tapped her fingers on the round wood. "...I just... I assumed I was special." She admitted.

The Grandmaster carefully reached over, undid the golden buckles of her leather gloves, and gently took the younger elf's hands in her own. Her old face was soft under her mask, her lips looked a bit chapped and cracked but it didn't deter her patient, pupilless eyes. "And you are, Stealth, you were such a great student, nobody else could ever compare. I wouldn't give that time up for anything." She explained while running her thumb along the many rough lines of old training scars covering her palm. "Not one of the clans' apprentices could ever hold a thorn branch to you; your skills, your speed, that bright little mind.

No, I could never replace you." The old woman chuckled again in contentment before she lightly squeezed Elfie's tough scars and thoroughly and repeatedly scratched green freckled flesh. "But you were the first try. I gave you everything you needed to be a ninja, not what a little girl needed to grow up, you had to figure that out yourself."

"What difference does it make, so long as I prevailed and stayed ahead of all my peers?" Elfie pressed.

"Enough with the formal talk." Her Grandmaster groaned.

"So what's the difference?" She adjusted her speech and tried again.

"And that's exactly what I'm talking about." Cami Flage sighed. "Whisper's not here to replace you, that would be impossible, she's here to be a curious young lady still learning about the world. You're the trial run that made her possible. She's not training to ever be better than you, and she isn't supposed to be."

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Was this what being around Eon was like for Spyro? She didn't know how often they talked but it was everything she could've imagined. "So I am better?" She dared hope.

Cami Flage smiled with pleased exasperation. "It's not a competition, Stealth." Then leaned in again. "But you didn't need the training prize to be a chocolate bar to show your promise."

"You just said it wasn't competition." Elfie pointed out.

"I did." Cami Flage grinned.

"But you're also saying she doesn't have my drive." She continued.

"And that's okay. I had to learn a lot through training you first, but you're both my girls." The elder confirmed.

"Done!" Whisper Elf appeared with a few teacups.

It was fruity tea, Grandmaster's favorite, though Stealth Elf preferred some ground mushrooms with hers. It turned out she'd grown a lot since she needed the firm cushion Whisper had to boost herself with to sit at their level. She played with her blueish purple hair before she and Elfie tugged down their bandanas over the collars of their matching earthy brown tunics. They took a sip at the same time. Whisper Elf tried not to wince and ask for some apple juice instead while Stealth Elf savored and swished it around for a second. It was far from her favorite, but it'd been so long since she had Cami Flage's favorite brew.

The weight in her chest lightened, her shoulders relaxed, and her jaw unclenched. Other than a few stale packets sent through a postal system that could only be so slow because of shipping all across the Skylands mixed with some brief, to-the-point update letters that she ceased sending midway through her Cadet year, she hadn't even been in contact with this old forest. Her clan, if she could still call it that, heard nothing from her since the day she started her journey to the Academy, not even the Grandmaster or Sensei. It'd been too long.

Her eyes had been a bit heavy since the Graduation incident; her guard had been up the whole night lest the images of black and violet lightning begin striking through her mind. Most of her short-lived vacation was spent on the deck of a small and simple ship, pacing back and forth as if it'd suddenly generate the perfect words for her teachers after such a long time of complete, deafening silence. She'd all but cut them out of her life until Spyro's... chat... Yet she was right back to this tiny hut in the woods and tinier table, all was well and almost nothing had changed since she was a little girl.

She happened to sigh as she set down the cup, much more pleased with her quiet and humble return than she was when an attempted ambush ended with her punting her caretaker's new pupil. The air of her lungs caused a loud whistle the smallest ninja did not miss.

Whisper's head lifted and ears perked at the high-pitched sound, but not in sharp, sudden pain like the Grandmaster. To their teacher's dismay, she replicated it and pushed up her upper lip to show a small tooth gap. "Do you have one, too?" She excitedly scooted to the edge of her makeshift booster seat.

Her blank white eyes shifted between the tiny ninja and her Grandmaster before reluctantly parting her lips with a raised brow.

"Tooth gap buddies!" Whisper Elf celebrated and almost knocked over her teacup. Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all.

-<🌀>-

"I'm just saying you could've been cleaning this place up for when he got here!" Eruptor's Mom criticized.

His Dad growled and hit the countertop a little too hard, it made a familiar slamming noise that kept him up at night. "I put together everything but the food, which I bought, by the way. I've done my part." He shot back for the... ninth? Maybe eighth time, depending on which exchanges you counted as a shootout.

"And I cleaned up the rock garden and guest bedroom!" She hissed in return, she always had to snap back with something.

"It takes two seconds to burn off the garden and he's using his own room! Neither of us would've noticed." His father snapped again like clockwork. Every. Single. Time.

"COULD YOU TWO CUT IT OUT FOR A DAY!?" Eruptor finally got up from the table and snapped at the two lesser Lava Elementals. All eyes were on him, but he didn't care anymore. "EVERY TIME I COME OVER, YOU PULL THIS AND PRETEND YOU'RE SURPRISED I ALWAYS BRING 'THE DRAGON' WITH ME! AT LEAST YOU CAN KEEP QUIET WHEN SOMEONE'S WATCHING!"

It would've been neat to say you could hear a pin drop, but Eruptor didn't wait for the opportunity. They called after him, "Emerson!" but he ignored it as he effortlessly shoved aside the stone door with one blob and slammed it shut behind him. Even his stubby lava legs felt the tremors through the soft, well-ground, fresh layer of choking ash. Pebbles bounced and rocks shifted deeper into the top layers like the furrowing of his burning brow as he stomped away from the glorified cave. Glowing orange clouds of heat moving through displaced soot wafted around his footsteps as smaller rocks stuck and melted into the bottoms of his destabilizing feet, gradually turning into the crunching and snapping of cobblestone shards.

Why did he put up with this? Because they were family? Because they were the only parents he'd get? Spyro never made anything his or Elfie's problem, and it turned out he'd done a lot more around the house than he let on. Other than putting together a finer dinner than pizza or takeout, he could be counted on for anything and either had an answer for everything or the means to get one by the next day, he wasn't wasting his or Eruptor's time. Not to mention anything the Lava Elemental couldn't fix, the purple dragon could. Stealth Elf was the same way with plants and math, she just couldn't be allowed to handle her own sleep schedule or expected to get home at a reasonable time.

Aside from the few but very manageable times she physically couldn't keep going and needed some help doing basic things, none of which were nearly enough of a problem to be slightly annoying, she and Spyro took care of themselves and did their fair share of the menial daily work without being asked. They helped him out when he needed it and vice versa. And they were quiet; Spyro kept to himself and Elfie was just as independent, neither of them needed to be taken care of and only bothered each other when they had something important to bring up or were addressed. One was a ninja, the other snuck around the Portal Master in charge of their entire work lives to host or attend and help organize parties, neither disturbed the peace.

He was the one who raised his voice, he was the one who gave him grief, he was the one who they (especially Elfie) had to play mediators with.

He was becoming his parents.

Fine, maybe I'll chat with Hugo.

-<🌀>-

Not much changed in the past four days, other than Glumshanks's old brown vest and pants being replaced with a black set given some amount of enchantments. He didn't know what they were beyond some defense and regeneration on top of his natural vitality, but they were a lot higher quality than his previous wardrobe. Black was more of Lord Kaos's color, not that he was complaining. The lair's Dark Core was functioning as smoothly as he'd seen, the troll hummed as if he had a frame of reference, and the Dark Lord seemed fairly pleased by its progress.

He'd noticed the increased pace and efficiency of the floating fortress's many mechanized, arcane, and manually operated systems throughout his daily tasks. The electrified stabbing traps seemed to oil themselves and his reader said they were packing a much more powerful punch than they should've been capable of withstanding. Their joints' backlash alone should've pulverized the steel tips to worthlessness, but they were as sharp as ever and not many of them needed to be polished.

The gates, spikes, railings, and levitation systems were in similarly unusual states of effectiveness and durability; his chores went by as fast as the gathering wind around the edges of the conjoined spiky platforms and intimidating architecture. At the very center of the Lair, he checked on all the crystals and gems supporting Lord Kaos's wards, flight, and other protective hexes. He didn't know how to fix any of them, but he'd been provided a lengthy list of everything their power outputs were supposed to read and some common problems ranging from the tiniest chips or cracks in the surrounding runes to disconnects behind the black walls.

Again, Glumshanks couldn't do anything about them besides document for a qualified worker, but that was fairly normal. Once the extremely few breaks and faulty wiring were sorted out, he made way for the Dark Portal Master's abode. His experiment was running full of Green Goo, the bright and energetic slime ran smoothly through the spell circle-shaped channels carved into the stone floors of the large, newly remodeled, heavily reinforced and protected chamber.

There was already an ingredients list of the many relics Kaos intended to rob Skylands of for his latest schemes, plans that were going shockingly well considering the short tyrant's track record. His desire for the Ancient Arkeyans' Quicksilver hadn't abated in the slightest, but neither had his improved mood since his relatively successful invasion of the Relics Room. Eternal Elemental Sources of Water, Fire, Life, and Undead remained the highest on his wishlist, followed swiftly by the artifacts needed to support their immense power. The Twin Spouts and whatever concerningly powerful scales his 'contact' had inadvertently provided handled two of those problems, not that the Skull Mask of Mortalannis wasn't also on the shopping list.

So far, the Crucible of the Ages was the main roadblock, being the only one Kaos didn't already have or know the location of. He couldn't contain the Eternal Fire Source without it. The Twin Spouts would be spewing Green Goo until the Water Source could be provided, the Undead Dragon scales were clinging to the massive mass of Petrified Darkness in the heart of the Core until the Undead Source and mask were collected from the Citadel and Cadaverous Crypts, and the Life Source would be able to feed off the mix of Darkness and Green Goo once the other materials were collected. It might've been more complicated than that, it probably was, but it was the extent of the rundown Kaos had given him in another of his many excited infodumps on his elaborate machinations.

Again again, Glumshanks couldn't make heads or tails of 99% of it, but Kaos was at least being listened to as he made notes on the arcane machine's construction: the flaws in its wiring, or what sigils could now be swapped out with more efficient and powerful ones with higher magic costs he couldn't previously meet. Ever since plugging that random piece of incredibly pure Petrified Darkness into the experiment, everything seemed to fall into place. Bright purple light beamed all across the expansive vault, the shadows it cast over the new railing around the elevated ring overseeing it all swelled and blackened darker than any night, and the Elemental energies spewing from the other materials came out deeply wrong, corrupted beyond repair;

Vines had begun growing through the deep pit of long pipes, braces, and colossal wires filled beyond the brim with energy being funneled to and gathered from the Dark Core, but they were a far cry from the vibrant and healthy flora he'd longed to see from the depths of polluted and over-industrialized Troll wastes, factories, and battlefields. Not at all covered in bright green leaves so large they became platforms and blooming flowers that could easily be used as colorful beds with minimal adjustments, they were instead rotten and dark. Dark, tough, and dry roots and dark gray mycelium meshed and melded with the framework, fastened the machinery in place, and protected magic runes with chipped and discolored leaves.

The darkened vines' thorns weren't even close to natural. Lacking any semblance of roses or the briars more associated with the lifeless deadlands, the spikes were disproportionately large and made of bleached white bone. Each one was curved upward in the direction of the glimmering Dark Crystal. Their tips and outside edges gradually turned purple, especially along the ones closest to the Petrified Darkness. The coolant flowing through clear pipes outside and along the device was a sickening gray, full of toxins and other pollutants despite the clean water that'd been added to the system. It didn't hurt efficiency or cause the piping to erode and spray on the plentiful cursed flames burning in small, forge-like, black cages of raging fire being funneled all throughout the Lair.

Each engine ignited forges for weapons, armor, and machines activated or held by minions designed and supplied to defend against any Skylander. It no doubt contributed to the lines of gems and growths of Petrified Darkness running through the entire fortress. More cancerous bulbs clung to the walls as vines went up through a small gap in the ceiling so more wires and pipes could be installed and spread between the dark stones. Some of the Undead torns poked through the gaps in the cement and the spikes along the inner walls pointed toward the Dark Core like the ones growing directly into the machinery, straightening and reversing the higher up they infested. Mold and mushrooms were starting to take shape, spreading spores laced with the beginnings of new crystal growths far from ready to be harvested, but seeping into the ventilation to find their resting spot.

Kaos, ceasing the constant streams of black lightning and cursed flames being driven into strategic points through the suffocating haze of pure Darkness, noticed the troll's presence and turned. "Glummy!" He greeted with a jagged-toothed smile. "Has to mail come in?"

He produced a sloppily folded note from the pocket of his vest. "Right here, sir."

Trolls, Drow, Cyclopses, Orcs, certain Undead, and those known to be corrupt to their bones were the only ones allowed to send and receive letters without their messengers being shot on sight; such was the cost of the easier kept and burnt secrecy of a letter, but it was one Lord Kaos found worthwhile. Fewer signal towers to cross wires with, fewer chances for someone surprisingly competent to intercept that which they didn't need to see. Not like he got a lot of mail, but he incinerated most people who brought it up.

Today's mail run, unlike 90% of others, included a single letter from the Troll army under his command. While they weren't as well-funded and powerful as the one Lord Kaossandra controlled, they were certainly especially happy to blow things up on the Dark Portal Master's behalf and stay their hand before taking what he asked them not to destroy, a reasonably good quality and loyal force consisting of a mix of veteran and novice fighters ever since the day he bought their favor; a choice he made based on what his Mother most disapproved and one that continued to serve him well. The only downside was Kaossandra learning to withhold her notes on anything he did.

"Excellent!" Kaos tore open and skimmed the contents, refolding it and shoving it in his robes to go over the deal's terms in greater detail later, almost dropping a much neater note in the process. "The Drow already sent their regards, the Quicksilver will be ours!" He celebrated and cackled. "The Trolls know where the Source of Tech is, another legion wants to use it as a weapon."

"Which one are you going for?" Glumshanks asked while uneasily shivering and eyeing the pulsing Core of Darkness as it sprouted tainted crystals.

"The Quicksilver." Kaos confirmed and turned back to his malevolent creation. "If the means to contain an Eternal Source of Magic is in an Arkeyan ruin, then the Source might be somewhere similar, maybe nearby, and I won't be counting on the knife-ears not to keep it to themselves. It'll be easier to rip the Source of Tech away from the Trolls than it will be to get into their monastery." Violet flames and light-draining lightning rushed and crackled into the heart of the pure, gradually growing Petrified Darkness.

"Understandable, Lord Kaos." The Troll hastily nodded and slowly stepped back toward the door. "I'll prepare your ship." He made up an excuse and barely waited for the Dark Portal Master's pleased nod before fleeing the horrible relic's crushing presence. It was starting to him of Kaossandra's shard of Darkness at the center of her Castle and the gem itself was still just a fraction of its size. The real problem Skylanders faced when dealing with newcomer Dark Lords; not a lack of information on the threat, but the insufficient resources forcing them to get creative. And while often unlucky and oblivious to his plans', his creations', and his own shortcomings, Kaos had learned how to scrape together an operation through many trials by fire.

He might be able to gather enough to give his Lair the power to evade the Skylanders, but there was still the Question of how many Elemental Sources he'd be able to get before they started knocking at his door. Only time would tell if they were headed for the Core of Light or Cloudcracker Prison.

For the first time in all his service, both options were possible.

Chapter Text

"You're doing well, but you need to let your arm finish healing before we can continue. Cali should be able to provide you with a brace tomorrow and we may resume physical training the next day." Sensei Tri-Tip set down his mace, sending some tremors through the Earth training zone's sand, and pressed his fist and palm together in a bow.

The Earth side of the Skylanders' island, while mostly a bunch of fine sand and jagged crags, had its own fair share of utilities and homes carved directly into the cliff faces. Massive boulders like the one they stood inside right now were all but completely hollowed out, filled with arches and shelved etched directly into the solid rock. Some were clearly geodes with tons of colorful, huge crystals growing inside. Most of them were orange with Earth energy, but there were a lot of smaller and mundane ones full of things like amethyst where other smaller buildings were constructed.

The little arena, unlike Barbella's out in the open sandstone gym, was enclosed deep in the ground and against the edge of the floating island. All the special minerals had been mined out for a long time, racks of padded armor and tough foam weapons were built directly into the orange rock and clay like big cubbies with dull spikes for the fake blades and loops at the ends of handles to hook onto, along with some gaos in the ceiling where light poured in and fresh air flowed through. George had gotten himself a foam hammer, it reminded him of Thor's, while Tri-Tip used his real mace to run the Human through the motions of some basic attacks, combos, blocks, and deflections. They were far from going head to head because of his lightly fractured arm, but apparently their healing magic could easily compensate his time.

George awkwardly returned the gesture while setting down the spiked ball on a weapon rack. "Did you ever train that Spyro guy? Eon makes it seem like he's been through all sorts of classes but I haven't talked to a lot of teachers with much to say."

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place. The teachers are generalised and easy to find at a moment's notice, but their methods won't suit everyone. You've met Jet Vac." The triceratops half-joked, far too serious for what he was saying. "Sensei are far more personalized and, rather than a specific subject, we usually teach fighting styles and philosophies of the Elements with a few forms of spellcraft mixed in, depending on the subjects. Teachers are for the subjects future Skylanders need to graduate, Senseis are for advanced skills and techniques. We usually only teach new Skylanders and especially promising Initiates, Spyro was both."

"'Cuz he's Eon's pet or cuz he's good at what he does?" George shrugged while absentmindedly gliding his fingernail along his cast.

The dinosaur smirked. "Both, really, the boy's been through one Sensei of each class and Element. He excels as a Knight, Skirmisher, Brawler, Duelist, and Sorcerer, but I found he fared quite well as an Earth Neophyte under my care. He was always ecstatic to talk about his team before training commenced." He reminisced fondly.

George stared blankly. "What?"

He chuckled and took a breath. "Each class of combat is related to certain weapons. Knights, for example, wield swords and are often paired with shields, but not always; Spyro favored greatswords. Meanwhile, Sorcerer is our blanket class for a well-rounded ranged combatant, usually with some extra special magic tricks up their sleeves; aside from the Sorcerer Senseis, Enigma comes to mind. Spyro's fireballs and use of scrolls and potions all fall under that category."

"And he went to you for...?" George blinked.

"Smasher, here." He hefted his mace over his shoulder. "The use of momentum and balance with lopsided weapons like axes, maces, flails, and hammers. He did what he could with his horns and tail, but he did best during Earth lessons. I wound up keeping him for all three Neophyte years! Second only to Mysicat, he held onto him until he was an Aspirant... about six years, I think."

"Did you ever notice anything off about him? I just can't shake the feeling something's not right." The Portal Master admitted while shifting his weight.

Tri-Tip took a step back and mulled it over, adjusting his grip on his mace again and resting his chin on it as he hummed. "Maybe you should meditate on where these feelings are coming from. Once your mind is clear, the answer might be more obvious than you anticipated."

"I'm not the meditating type... but okay." George figured and thanked the triceratops before finding somewhere else to take a break and- "Wait, Spyro can parry spells?"

The Sensei had been making way for the Earth gym's other door, even walking beneath an orange rock archway when the Portal Master called back to him. "It can be a tough maneuver, but yes, I once saw him deflect twenty Catapult pebbles with three parries. Then he started trying to use two." He chuckled at the fond memory George wasn't familiar with. "Why do you ask?"

"Where I'm from, parrying stuff is more of a swords and shield kinda thing, our stories don't really have spell parrying." He explained.

"Interesting." Tri-Tip hummed, then raised a brow. "But that's not all, is it?"

George stepped forward slightly and gestured widely with his cast, even he wasn't sure what he was doing but he needed to get it off his chest. "Kaos did nothing but spells when he attacked, but Spyro didn't parry any of it. He dove right in front of a lightning bolt twice!"

The three long horns and crest swayed as the triceratops nodded and shifted his mace. He allowed the weapon to fall to his side and gently brought up his three-clawed hand to stroke his chin. His scales, head to toe, looked like the cracked ground in a bone-dry land. The spikes along his crest seemed to whistle through the lightly flowing air like a bunch of dust devils as he turned back to George. "Did it happen when protecting someone?" George nodded. "Lightning spells are known for moving very quickly when the charging period is finished. I say he didn't have time to react properly, but I wasn't there."

"Sooo... What do we do?" The Human shrugged and crossed his fingers the old dino had some idea what to do.

"Sometimes the best solution is the simplest one." He happily hefted his mace high and brought it down on the floor with a weighty thud. "I have a problem, I break through it. If you truly think something's wrong, your best bet will be to ask him instead of looking around or dancing around the question. You'll save yourself a lot of time and trouble by being upfront."

"Am I getting help figuring Spyro out or dating advice?" George deadpanned.

"Both, apparently!" Tri-Tip laughed before steeling himself again. "If you find any reason to say something's wrong, don't be afraid to bring it to me. I won't stop caring for him just because he's not my student anymore."

-<🌀>-

He spent the rest of the day setting up his little garden. One of the tables full of potted plants was pressed awkwardly against the wall while the other was tucked between his alchemy tables, neither of which had much of anything. Besides the new healing herbs and whatever he could find in the surrounding area, today was marked by a discouraging lack of progress. It'd take time to get the healing potion production line up and running, his other materials would hinge on whatever the Academy and Castle storages until he could make a proper greenhouse.

There'd be a bottling problem, too. They could be reused, assuming they didn't break, and the splash versions were one-time use, anyway. Due to not needing to drop everything and take a drink, along with applying to potentially the whole team, they'd be sorely needed the moment he didn't have any. He needed to figure something out quick, but was now lacking the funds to do much of anything. Spyro needed this dumb cast off now, but what was he to do? Maybe he could get away with the shopping trip, but Eon absolutely find out if he ripped his cast off next checkup, even if it didn't make the bone heal wrong.

Maybe he just needed some air. It was slowly starting to get dark and Eon would be wrapping up the last of the Academy's paperwork sometime soon, likely later since the dragon's injuries took so much time from his piles of paper. He could easily take a fly around the island completely unnoticed. Normally, his wings wouldn't even notice the strain of the flying he'd done today, but he'd spent a lot of time lying in an induced coma and they were starting to ache. Not that it stopped him from locking up his new room, flaring them so the tips tapped the silver arch and glowing crystals about his door, gliding down to the front door, and taking flight.

Spyro did a twirl as he immediately dove down like he was caught in a tornado, between some of the spots where Eon's defensive enchantments searched for anyone intruding too close to the Academy. Nothing would happen if he was any other Skylander than an injured one; his cast uncomfortably weighed him down as he soared between the fine mesh of hidden magic and landed on his favored island. The trees were swaying slightly and shadows flickered back and forth as the leaves rustled in a light breeze. Looks like they hadn't escaped the stormy weather yet. Elfie's gonna HATE the Troll fronts.

He idly clenched his fist to tap the new ring. The metal was relatively cheap, for Cat's Eye Mountain, but that was extremely relative for a city-state built out of gold and crystals. Still, anyone good with mass-produced magical equipment was good to have handy, and he could feel how effortlessly the flow of magic washed through and around the ring. Whereas he glided in a constant, singular direction while spiraling down to his favorite island, the magic was divided into two bands running in opposite directions simultaneously. It was nothing but a fancy ring on the outside, just as the patch of grass and flowers at the cliff of his little isle meant nothing to anyone but him, but the magic ground together in the middle. Like friction, the energy was poured toward the top ornament to be run through the proper enchantments so the creation could handle both effects at once.

The bottom clicked against a pebble as he touched down. Yes, that fluffy blacksmith was right, odds were one of the Troll fronts would be where he was headed next. So many MDF personnel were killed or just lost there, especially during the brutal Winters and rain. Mud swallowed people whole and supply convoys were constantly caught stuck out in the open. In the frequently shifting battle lines of the urban ruins, freedom of movement was a distant dream, and the trucks' paths were always flipping between friendly zones and straight across enemy lines way too fast for radio updates to warn them in time; in the pouring rain and snow, massive lakes would sprout from nothing like the soil did absorb a drop and nothing leaked off the sides of islands.

Eventually, he and the team would be headed where the stable land was perpetually shifting hands and the hardest to contest was always at risk of killing anyone who didn't throw themselves at the enemy to escape. He wasn't worried about Eruptor too much; he was resilient and would boil away the rain as it irritated his head. He could even walk right through muddy lakes, a burst of steam would bubble up in a line as he stomped along the bottom. It left him pretty vulnerable to artillery attacks, or anything that moved vertically. Everyone could hide behind him in a pinch, but he would start wearing down eventually. Elfie, on the other hand, was the lone operative who'd be impossible to bring down without her enemies bombing their own soldiers and hoping for the best. There was no doubt in his mind that she could clear and entire area by herself in record time.

And Spyro himself? Mediocre at best. It wasn't like he couldn't take a hit, but he was no Eruptor. He couldn't protect the Mabu forever. How many times could he dash in front of a gun for them? He was no Stealth Elf, could he even get between a target and a Troll fast enough to save a life? He was no Jet Vac. He didn't have the completion of the Final Trials and years of experience under his belt. He was no Master Eon, he didn't have an insurmountable repertoire of spells for every emergency imaginable.

Sure, he could put up a personal shield in a pinch, but it wouldn't last through anything greater than a single non-AP shell; large spells and the highest grade weaponry would cut through it like butter, the very things he was most expected to protect everyone from. If he couldn't throw something together, then he wasn't a Skylander. If he wasn't fast enough to get to everyone who needed him most without a spare Haste scroll, of which he had very few in the first place, then he wasn't a Skylander. If he couldn't get it together and figure why his Stoneskin potions kept turning into gravelly Slowness potions, then he wasn't a Skylander. If he couldn't make enough Healing potions, then he wasn't a Skylander. And if he wasn't a Skylander, Eon wasted his time, everyone in the Academy wasted their time, and he'd remind himself as many times as he needed to get it through his thick skull.

As many times as needed.

So why wasn't he abusing the Light out of his new ring, other than the fact he literally just got it? He didn't need to eat and only needed a couple hours of sleep, not even including the defense bonus when things went sideways. He should be finding something to do! He should be brewing something or studying! And once he'd done so much reading that his head started to spin and words blended together, then it was time to start drafting more scrolls until his magic was depleted. Were there items or rituals that'd let him recover magic faster? Who was he kidding? Of course there were! He'd have to dig them out of the Portal Master's library the first chance he got!

"Skylands to Spy?"

Which would be later.

His head snapped to Cynder, quickly meeting her bright cyan eyes and smug smile. The fronts of her many platinum horns glinted in the dim dusk shine and burned directly into his pupils like lasers. She was perched atop a big rock, looking slightly downward at him while lying on her belly, a little coiled so her spinal spikes also reflected uncomfortably into his eyes and her tail draped over her front paws. The shiny, spear-like tip confirmed in an instant that it was very intentional, lifting upward from beside the tips of her claws to better reflect the low light; she was a living, spotty, chrome magnifying glass, despite how much darker it'd suddenly gotten.

Spyro averted his eyes and used a wing to cover the back of his head and cast. "How long have you been here?"

"You don't wanna know." She chuckled and slithered down from her rock, glided along the grass like a hunting serpent, and nudged up the bottom of his orange membrane with her snout just so she could jab him in the neck with her nose. "It took a minute to figure out where the Castle went." She justified without being asked and moved on swiftly. "How've ya been?"

"Could've been worse." He sat upright and craned his neck to look down to her.

Cynder hopped up and nudged his wing off of her back. "Atta boy." Right, wouldn't want anyone keeping their wings on top of me for a second.

He stretched his wings and rubbed the back of his neck before resting on one forepaw and keeping his cast elevated. Cynder's spikes clicked and clacked metallically as she shook like a wet dog, the tips of her wings made small but oddly powerful gusts of air and gently tapped his side. They sat there for a little while, gazing up at the Skylanders' Castle calculatively. She mentally marked the entrances and exits while psionically prodding the defenses; he let his mind wander and stared blankly at the Portal Master's tower.

"We're the same species." Cynder hummed aloud.

"But you're a lightning dragon." Spyro added.

"You're a fire dragon." She agreed.

Might as well see what else is off. "I'm a Magic Skylander."

"Undead." Cynder confirmed his suspicions.

"We can't be Elemental Paragons for nothing. Maybe it has to do with where we grew up?" Spyro offered.

Cynder just shrugged and smirked. "The boy who grew up next to one of the greatest wizards around is a Magic Skylander? Madness." She closed her eyes and brought the back of her paw to the symbol on her forehead, covering part of it as it lightly glowed with psychic energy the ran along the edges of the tower's magic aura. "What has the realm come to?"

He forced a fake chuckle and smile that came nowhere close to his dead amber eyes, the laughter he knew she hated but was a deeply ingrained social reflex. "The Skylands are falling!"

She still smiled and lightly bonked him in the cheek, her horns were the same low temperature as her body like a bunch of sharp piercings. The pair of shiny cyan eyes looked into his cold orange ones as she pulled back. "Gonna share where the ring's from?"

"Just a fan from Cat's Eye." He propped himself up with his wings and lifted the ornament closer to the dragoness.

Spyro flinched as she lightly took his hand and ran an admiring talon over the pinkish metal. "It's your color." She traced the gold etchings with the tip of a claw.

He shuddered and pulled his paw away a little too quickly. Pink sparks flashed beneath his makeup as he quickly gave a disingenuous smile. "Thanks!" Spyro reared his head in projected pride and shook to hide a heavy swallow. "...And thank you... for helping with Kaos..."

The dragoness completely ignored the entire image in favor of gently headbutting him in the chin. Plowing through the shroud of confidence and presence befitting of a Skylander all the time, apparently, was her favorite game. All the contact made his heart drum up a storm. Contact meant something was wrong, contact didn't mean touch, contact meant the enemy was here; they needed to protect the defenseless, starting with the young and old and injured, gather their teammates and nearby allies, then eliminate the threat by any means necessary.

Nobody needed evacuating, the order of importance instinctively printing in his mind was of no value. Cynder had more than earned the mantle of a sister in arms, more than capable of swiftly becoming a Skylander should it please her, but it didn't change the fact they just met; she was neither friend or foe, there was nothing else of importance to target and neutralize. She was a bug in the code, she figured out how to short-circuit the entire system without even trying.

Spyro's back arched low to the ground so his plates were brushing the tips of the grass, his wings folded so the sharp pearls tips were facing forward, his wing membranes made him look better, and claws dug into the soil a short distance from where he flung himself away from all the poking and bashing. His frill frayed and tail flicked in agitation, ready to strike like a dagger so his pearl talons would have an extra split second to adjust and telegraph a swift but ruthless follow-up. His pupils shrank to thin lines locked on Cynder's mischievous grin. How did she always seem to know exactly what set a Skylander off? This was rigged!

"Don't get too happy, Skylander." She brought a claw to her choker and turned her snout up at the other Elemental Paragon. "To have two of your little buddies under my care? I'm too beautiful for the responsibility." Her face twisted as she tried to keep a straight face, made pointless as he lightly pressed a paw to the side of her head and gently shoved her over. His claws swiped the air and lingered in place as she effortlessly went down. On the grass, she dramatically clutched her chest while grasping the dusk sky with a trembling paw. He did his best to stifle his embarrassing giggle, but a high-pitched peep slipped out, another of many weird noises he could tell she was never letting him live down.

She jumped at the chance to grab one of his forelegs and, like a well-trained Brawler with a touch of skullduggery self-taught by dark streets easily mistaken for sloppiness by the uninformed, swiveled around to press a hind paw into his ribcage for the leverage to drag him over her head and onto the flower patch beside her. He brought his forelegs up, blocking a light tap of her wing and sending a side-eye her way. Not that it did anything but make her smug smile and half-lidded eyes worse against the Castle's backdrop. Not the most flattering position he'd ever been in, yet she didn't appear to mind seeing him like this.

Not when she decided how much of him was tolerable, at least, which was much more than he was willing to give but nobody was dying. He'd get used to keeping his composure eventually.

-<🌀>-

Shadows and dim sheens of light reflecting on the extremely few spots of unrusted metal piled high above the rubble highlighted the lone ship at the center of the unsteady junk. The blowing magic was coming from there, it had to be. She couldn't tell where it was coming from, but the wrecked steel vessel was the only significant thing in this entire section. The metaphorical breeze continued swishing by. Streaks of a vague and distant sense billowed along and got caught in the whirling sphere around Eugenie's ankle as she climbed the displaced gears, pulled herself up with bent pipes, and maneuvered around seared slivers of devastated metal sheets.

The metal boat was horribly bent in the middle. A long, sturdy, and reasonably broad ship with a massive gash down the middle so the front and back lined the slope of the pile it rested upon. Its corroded grave shifted and creaked, dropped debris and groaned in pain. Luckily, the boat itself was pretty stable. Some more minor trinkets like rings and similar, gold-looking, and simple jewelry spotted the inside of the large crack she slipped into and landed on the curved ground with a painful thud that echoed through the vessel. If it could be called a crack, it was smooth at the edges and covered in extremely old ash and dust, more like it'd been melting when something cut through the superheated steel. That and wear through time left no sharp edges for her to peel open a hand on.

A weapon vault was sat at the front, racks tucked into the corner where the panels combined, the bolts that the anchors for the frontmost sail placed beneath the bow were mounted with were barely visible in the dark. Her phone's light illuminated several very old weapons in far better states than what she'd discovered previously. They weren't made of metal, not entirely, but of scales. Their color had faded a lot time ago but some dull glimpses were slightly discernible. Most of the scaly shields and swords with reptilian parts built into the center were of one solid color, bright reds faded to deep maroons, blacks and whites turned pale gray, bleached blues that looked like her eyes, but some of them appeared to be a mesh of a few different colors.

Strong magic wafted off of them, now that she was nearby, but it didn't disperse and expand like whatever brought her here. Their enchantments were still here, clinging to life long after the conflict that brought this destroyed ship to Cynder's kingdom; only barely, but hanging on like nothing else she'd dug out of dead ships. Faint etchings in the metal linings still held power, and the metal was surprisingly intact and clean while the rest of the warship, she assumed it to be, was visibly resigned to its fate.

Jenny had to climb up the deceptively steep slope to get back to the crack in the middle and slide down the other side. A large lance coated in pale red scales with three rings of uncared-for gold along the shaft and an orange gem built into the pointed tip. There was a matching round shield discarded in the corner, five more dusty orange crystals adorning the center and making a square in the front like a bunch of small spikes. A spiral design was made with the gold metal and four gold spikes lined the top, bottom, left, and right of the shield like arrows on a compass. She couldn't shake the feeling of them radiating heat despite being just as cold to the touch as any other dead metal.

Slipping into a rear door, not without getting a new ache in her un-sprained foot while kicking the creaky old thing open, the rush of magic all but blew her away. Magic swirled around the aura protecting her foot, jostling the injury with unexpected power. Behind what she assumed to be the former captain's fiery lance and shield was an extra fortified room housing a metal cylinder with pipes connecting it to the ship's inner workings. Arcane power swelled and relented like the tide or repeated gusts of wind. Some chips of red paint peeled off the metal device as she shone her phone light on it. Other mechanical cylinders were connected to the side of the main device by metal beams and frayed wiring carried not electrical, but magical charges through their abused and neglected gold centers.

In the center, dimly pulsing, a cyan light flickered through a porthole. It looked like the window of a cartoonish rocket ship; a metal ring studded with bolts with a glass circle in the center. This was where the radiating magic was coming from. She couldn't tell what it was, how to open it up, or why she only started feeling it when she took her cloak off, but there was something here steadily releasing a large amount of magic into the ship graveyard. Was she going to break something important if she searched for a handle or some gap she could get leverage to pry the thing open? With all the nothing she knew about cars and naval maintenance, she doubted she could figure this thing out without breaking something.

For now, she could leave this old wreck untouched and carry her mildly illbegotten loot back to the castle to see what it was worth, but she was not done with this featureless and intact-weapon-having ship.

-<🌀>-

Smoke billowed out of his snout like a chimney as a bright fire glowed through his vibrant purple scales. Eruptor, it turned out, was on his home while Stealth Elf's ship had been forced to stay put by the weather; never a good sign. He tried and failed not to worry about her, there was nothing he could do. But he couldn't let helplessness set in! Skylanders were never helpless! There was a lot to get done and research to do!

After exchanging numbers with Cynder, he stopped by the library. The faint glow through his chest crawled up his throat, seeped down his upper arms, and poured down to his belly as he glossed over the rows and rows of books. His Skylander tattoos flashed bright pink along his body and shifted like flowing water. Lines solidified down the back of his paws and shone over titles for him. Advanced rituals, advanced spell circles, complex scroll writing, ritual enhancements, arcane offerings; whatever he could stack between his cast and chin or tuck into his free arm. He memorized where he got them from and flew to the house, he only needed them for a second.

Opening the front and his room's doors was a little awkward but nothing his tail couldn't manage with some fanangling. Hoping to someday soon get a dedicated shelf for his scrolls and parchment, he dragged the stack out and flicked through the pages until he found everything he was looking for. His copying scrolls were running low, but he should be able to twin-cast them all if he got another tome later. It wasn't like he'd be casting anything on himself, yet, he needed to run tests before he started etching magic into his body; doing it himself wouldn't be as simple as Eon making him a Skylander.

With his working arm, he arranged the books, figuring out how many pages were of substance and the table of contents. ᛗᚫᚷᛖ᛫ᚻᚫᚾᛞ. A sparkling spectral talon closed around a stack of papers, then spread them out as needed. His broken arm was more than dexterous enough to hold his scrolls. ᚫᛗᚫᚾᚢᛖᚾᛋᛁᛋ. The pages flicked apart and gleaming streaks of pink light scribbled along from nothing. It wrote around 250 words per minute, he had some time to kill.

His fire breath kept him warm and the glorious Skylander markings along his scales illuminated the fist-thick tomes as he began studying. Spyro might've favored potions, despite initially enjoying it to witness Professor Pop's many explosions, but he knew enough from all his Novice to Advanced Magic Studies classes to already have a firm grasp on the basics and deeper concepts. He knew what the symbols meant, he knew how to attach a ritual circle to a power source, the equations for finding the energy requirements were burned into his memory. Deducing what a ritual accomplished at a glance was all but a requirement for a Magic Skylander, as was being able to reconstruct some standard ones.

It was past time for the next big step. He should be able to finish one of these by daylight, if he took a two-hour break to sleep, but he should be able to get through a solid chunk of a second if he set his timer for one hour. He could take it, he could take much worse. Honestly, with how much he normally slept, he was more than capable of going 30 minutes instead. The dragon eventually settled for 45 minutes, it took a while for him to fall asleep. Getting a feel for how good the ring worked was high on his to-do list, too.

-<🌀>-

Every storm passes eventually, every storm passes eventually, every storm passes eventually.

This wasn't even a bad one! How was this getting her down!? A metal ship would've been able to move through this easily! She could've been out of here by now! But she stayed for dinner, she stayed for some nice fresh sushi and fruit from the Grandmaster's garden, and now she was stuck in the guest bedroom until morning. Rain tapped through the wooden walls and trickled as it flowed down the bark. Flowers drooped like they were being weighed down by the pretty mild heavy downpour, though they were simply growing from a vase made out of a dried gourd.

Cracks of lightning in the far distance shattered the Skylands, but only every minute or so. Cami Flage's tree home rustled creaked and groaned in the hurricane whistling wind. Countless gallons of shallow suffocating mud no doubt dotted the forest in isolated puddles flowed out of control around the island, unable to be stopped or slowed except by the tallest and strongest trees. She wasn't near any of those, though. Her tree was deep in the infested forest, far out of the way from even societies as independent and isolated as the ninja clans.

A blanket was tightly wrapped around her shoulders. Tearing at the ends with how harshly she pulled, she could feel the shaking tips of her fingers through the new holes in the fabric. Her messy, sweaty, unbraided hair tangled around her collarbone and neck as the sheet pressed down on the top of her head. She couldn't breathe through her mask. Her lungs and face were burning like she'd been splashed with acid. Having her knees clutched tightly to her chest didn't help. With her heels dug deep into the mattress and loosely covered by the ripping blanket, she kept her face buried to the best of her ability. Her spine felt ready to snap like a twig.

Why was it so much worse here? This was where she grew up. This was where she was trained. This was where her tree took care of her. This was supposed to be home, home was supposed to mean safety, feeling safe didn't come with a mild storm shaking her to her core. It should've taken a cyclone several times this one's strength to start making her tremble. The most this should've done was make her uneasy and unable to sleep. That was all it would've done if she was at the Academy.

This was home. She shouldn't be reacting like this. Why is it so much worse here?

"Hello?"

Whisper Elf's deep purple hair, messy but dry and neatly draping over her back, save for the end that trailed behind her like a cape dragging debris or a bad broom, was all that stood out against the light green walls. A blurry blob of violet that was still better kempt than Elfie was. There was something in her arms, being held out to the trembling Life Skylander, but it was the same blurry brown as her outfit.

In a split second, the smaller Forest Elf was wrapped tightly in Stealth's arms. She squeaked, squirmed, and tried to force apart the ninja's arms to no avail; even if they were the same age, Elfie had several years of far more intense training under her belt. A kid still learning to be a ninja versus a Skylander who needed to be able to perform complex maneuvers instinctively, run a marathon at an instant, hit hard enough to down almost anything in a single precise stab, and barely take any extra time to haul weight through the Training Isles than without. And only one of them was shivering like they were in the middle of a blizzard. Seeing as her predicament wasn't going to change any time soon, Whisper managed to wriggle into a slightly more comfortable position.

Stealth Elf's legs partially parted into a V shape when she grabbed her counterpart like a pillow, the closest thing to sitting in Cami Flage's lap as she was going to get until the Skylander calmed down. I thought Skylanders couldn't get scared... Stealth's victim only had to wait a few minutes (which was roughly equal to two forevers) before the Grandmaster rounded the corner, sopping wet after dredging through mud and plant-zombie guts for the better part of the afternoon; a lot of the strange curse's formerly living targets lacked agility, loosened earth and blowing leaves made great conditions to lead some of the better ninja in a fight for their hearth. All she'd done was change into a dry outfit when she found her fosters in Elfie's room.

She hadn't even hung up her katana, she flipped the sheath's strap over her shoulder and barged into the guest bedroom. Cutting down shambling masses of part-person-part-plant animations of raiders who fell by her own hands, slicing through the unusual amount of Shambling Mounds, stalking the motions of squads of walking fungus completely unseen, trapping and bisecting walking trees far too animalistic to be Ents but just as mighty (seriously, they weren't that or treemen, they still had no idea what they were dealing with), and carving through dense brush of mutating carniverous, toxic, or thorny thrashing plants was second nature to her. Trying to teach an old dog to comfort a terrified child, however, was a work in progress.

Whisper didn't have the same 'sensitivity' to these sorts of things, the Grandmaster almost completely forgot about her first attempt's issue until she washed and dried an extra set of sheets. Stealth was the perfect student in every way, just one major weakness, Whisper did have her skills or bravery but could function a lot better in general. Though that was a cost she was happy to pay, allowing her time to socialize and make friends with the traders beyond the clans. But trying to have Stealth Elf work together, or so much as mingle with the other ninja? It was a trainwreck they barely dodged by pure chance, Master Eon happening upon the star student and lone wolf from the day she was born.

Neither a mistake she intended to make again, nor one the old lady knew how to fix, but that wouldn't stop her from figuring it out. Whisper's face was a cross between concern and annoyance as she looked up at her Grandmaster for answers, but her big sister didn't even register she was there as she took a seat. She wasn't slipping out of the Skylander's grasp any time soon and was visibly getting antsy, but Stealth kept her face stuffed in the top of her royal blue hair.

"I'll explain in the morning." She assured the little girl as she lightly grabbed Elfie's arm. The movement nudged her thick blue hair aside enough to see the stuffed bear Whisper attempted to offer. Poor girl had no idea what she was getting into. Cami Flage chuckled at the fluffy little sacrifice gone awry while lightly guiding Stealth Elf onto her lap. It mostly resulted in Whisper being crushed by Stealth's knees, but her grip loosened enough for her to squeeze out of the tungsten arms without blasting a puff of green smoke and unstable, unpracticed energy into their faces or dragging the bear out with her.

She paused at the door, looking back like she was waiting for permission to leave Stealth in her Mother's care, and silently slipped back to her room when Cami nodded in approval. Far from the next Stealth Elf, but with some basic social experience the real deal lacked, she still had the heart to be a great Skylander one day. But that was neither here nor there; she had someone else to worry about right now. Her elder child remained not fully aware of what was going on and just wanted shelter from the storm. She carried her to her bed and allowed her to calm down on her lap, closer to the center of the tree where the sound of rain and booms of thunder didn't carry quite as much.

Elfie's breaths began losing their hitches and harsh gasps. The flower-like guard of the Grandmaster's katana and the buckles on the sheath, though cold, felt like the hard blocks making up Eruptor's carapace. Her robe was tough but flexible, much like Spyro's wing membranes. She knew she wasn't back home, but it was enough for the back of her mind to make the connection and let her fried nerves cool off.

Not quite asleep, the Elf tried to get up and figure out where she'd been moved, but the Grandmaster stopped her and folded the blanket over her. She could finish tending to her when the bed was taken care of. Cami Flage peeled off the sheets and pulled off the pillow cases to throw in a tub of soapy water for the next day. Stealth remained tense and clammy, even when she returned from tending to the mattress, not to mention the only change of clothes she had handy were a size too small, but it'd have to do. Letting her sleep in wouldn't kill anyone, better that than knowingly sending her back to the Skylanders with a splitting migraine when she was meant to be resting after dedicating her entire life to becoming one.

Besides, Cami Flage had done nothing about her atrocious sleep schedule when Stealth was under her care, and then there was the pressure of becoming a Skylander hanging over her head like a sword! She deserved to sleep in.

Chapter Text

Hauling a cloak full of metal, as weird as it sounded, wasn't even the hardest part of getting her haul back to Cynder's fort. Air swirled around the fabric like an isolated tornado that was easy to drag along as she partially floated on her sprained ankle. The part that had her bending over backwards and pulling every muscle was keeping the cloak wrapped up tight around her salvage. It wasn't enough to put down her curiosity about that large ship, but she'd definitely be looking for other ways to make money and gather materials besides the junkyard.

Keeping that island so far away from everything else was still an odd decision that ate at the back of her mind. It was just a bunch of trashed ships from all around the Skylands, and no kingdom could hope to wage war with that many targets or supply that many sieges, so they couldn't be the Undead's doing, yet the operation was positioned as if there was something to hide. Then again, she just got here a couple of weeks ago, there was a lot she was missing about the Cadaverous Crypts alone. Not like it was major enough to warrant asking about, either. Cynder's Dad was probably just a busy man making the most of the logistical hellscape that was trying to move massive amounts of salvage across the void.

What she didn't respect was the way her improvised bag of metal floated right out of her grasp in a blob of pink light. Cynder pushed herself up with the tips of her wings so she could flick aside the steady fabric and snoop. She smirked as Eugenie's frustrated huff, then dropped it at the sight of her ankle brace. The glowing symbol on her head left traces of light like the tails of comets as she slithered under the psychic bowl, cyan eyes narrowed in on the brace.

The symbol on her left upper arm flashed a dimmer pink-purple light. A small whirl of wind coiled down her foreleg and condensed at her talons, letting the platinum tip slip through the breeze around Jenny's injured foot as if it were still and stale air. The dull ache faded fast as a flash of pink beamed along Eugenie's ankle. Without even touching it, Cynder unfurled the brace and cast it aside in a psionic bubble. The Portal Master hesitantly dispersed the hovering spell and tapped her foot a few times, good as new.

"Long-term healing spells are a lot more efficient than instant ones, but I haven't used that ability all day, no scales off my back." The dragoness got up and shrugged, carrying the bag along like it was nothing. "Balance is the trick with these. Think of a donut, okay?" She recommended and dropped the bag of metal, adjusting the psychic bowl accordingly. "Try having air push up from the opening, then wrap around the sack. It's really inefficient, but it should work until you get the hang of balancing turbulence."

Eugenie grabbed the cloak by the poorly made knot at the top and formed the new cradle around it. While difficult to see what she was doing through the rushing winds and annoying to try molding the wind around a non-solid shape, she got the hang of it eventually and chatted with Cynder on her way back to her room. The dragoness had been wrapped up in something about fire and faulty furnaces, her Father had her shield some workers while they did some troubleshooting. Guess that kinda explains all the melted ships. She let the bag fall through a wide portal when they opened the door to her room.

"I'll find the blacksmith tomorrow..." Eugenie sighed and flopped on the bed. Cynder pounced over her head and landed beside the headboard.

"You're getting better at that." She commented while kneading the pillows. "Gonna start banishing people to the void with 'em, yet?"

Jenny giggled into the mattress and rolled onto her back to stare up at Cynder. "I haven't tried teleporting anyone yet."

"Good." Cynder smirked and summoned a sliver of paper from a cloud of shadows. "Make a portal between these two."

Eugenie accepted and flipped the paper around. It was two sets of coordinates: one's Z axis was much lower than the other's, another's X was miles away, and the Ys seemed roughly the same in comparison. With some quick mental math, she subtracted one set from the other for the large distance the portal was crossing, larger than any rift she'd created so far, then divided the values in half and added them back to one set to find the midpoint. The numbers clicked together like the repeated movements of gears as she folded reality along the given seam. She became loosely aware of the abundant greenery on one side and the barren wasteland on the other.

While the oblivious Portal Master's head was turned, Cynder's markings flashed a message to one of the positions. "I've got some buddies there. You should be able to feel them hopping back and forth."

She closed her eyes and focused on the rift. The swirling magic around the points of interest, the tear in space time along the circumference of the wriggling circles. There were interruptions in her meditation like puffs of smoke passing through. They felt like they were all going in one direction, towards the grassy forest area, but there were so many that there was no way the black dragon got that many people to humor Eugenie's sudden practice session. It had to be a couple skeletons bouncing over the threshold like it was a jump rope, not a constant horde running for the hills. While her eyes were closed, her blonde hair started to levitate and straighten out like she was under water. Meanwhile, Cynder's psychic markings flashed again, held for a while, then blinked to normal as she got another paper.

"Now, remember which of those is connected to a forest, you're gonna switch that one to here" She held the second paper above Eugenie's head.

When she opened her eyes and tried to flip between the new points, she found a jam like a lock was refusing to turn. The new point wasn't even far from the Crypts, she was just stuck on the previous segment.

"You can close the first portal if you need to." Cynder offered, but she wasn't going to be defeated that easily.

What if she solved for the midpoint between the previous and new ones? Like creating a triangle between the portal locations, one that was a little more gradual of a change; more like bending the rift than a sharp turn. And why stop there? She could find the quarter and eighth fractions of the points until she was where she wanted to be. The outline of the portal smoothed out, becoming a more wild but consistently-shaped ring of gray clouds heavy with rain and buzzing with unreleased electricity. She could feel the powerful swirl of time, space, and Air in the center reach out along her dotted line of coordinates like she was drawing an archway. It disconnected a lot easier than it reattached to real space, but nothing unmanageable with a good double-checking of her math. The dragoness's friends started bouncing through it as well.

"Done, without dropping the portal." Eugenie beamed.

"Great job!" Cynder smiled widely. Her eyes were a bit tired, but she tried to shine as well. "They'll just go back and forth for a while. Keep the portal open, I'll tell you when to close it."

They chatted about what they'd done since Cynder got put on firefighter duty. Eugenie, when she wasn't making the fatal mistake of trying over and over to slide over thin air without ever having touched a pair of skates, worked on sprinting and flexibility. It'd been so long since she could touch her toes, and her spine did not feel like it should've bent that much the first few times, but it was a working process. Rome wasn't built in a day! She'd be able to wriggle along and curve with the flow of hurricane-force winds eventually, but her body needed to get further along before cutting through the difference with Air rituals became viable-

"CLOSE THE PORTAL CLOSEITCLOSEITCLOSEIT-" Cynder blurted and bapped her on the forehead. She chewed and spat out some of her hair in the rush to cross and flare out her arms, mentally pulling shut the arcane doorway and ripping apart the lingering instability like her life depended on it. Clouds crackling with electricity partially drowned the dragoness's roaring laughter and sudden snorts. Cynder desperately gasped for breath; all the blood in Jenny's body rushed to her face.

"YOUR FACE!" She kept laughing until the bed shook and Eugenie used another set of portals to make one of the pillows fall several stories. Speeding it up with a strong current between the two vertical rifts, she swiftly redirected the top one to bring it down on Cynder's head while a third and fourth ripped a second pillow out from underneath the sheming snake's talons and desposited it above the Portal Master's head, easy to grab and bring down on the dragon's snout as soon as she shoved the first attack off her face with a bubbly giggle.

They went back and forth between fits of laughter, the portal practice completely forgotten about, Eugenie's first pillow fight since being haphazardly shipped off to uni with no notice or discussion and Cynder's first ever. The Human's conniving opponent was tactical, yet aggressive, a master of striking at the right time and fast enough to pull back for a block, but that didn't stop a bunch of wild and humiliated swings gunning for the dragon's face. Neither was certain how long they'd been at the fight, but both found themselves waiting for snowfall with bated breath.

Still, as the war faded to a stalemate (if you asked Jenny), her reptilian smile was a little too tight and her eyes glistened like puddles; crystaline and shiny puddles, yet watery and reflective. "Is something wrong?"

Cynder flinched and raised her heavy head. "Just tired, it's nothing for you to worry about."

"Too late. Your woes are many, for I am already emotionally invested." Eugenie flopped on her side, facing the dragoness's snout.

She flinched and blinked, not expecting her to push. "Thanks, really, but... I don't wanna talk about it, it's been a long week." Cynder somewhat admitted before setting her head down beside Eugenie's.

The Human sighed and stretched her arms out far above them like she was reaching for the stars, none of which were there anymore, and popped her knuckles. Stargazing was never a hobby she picked up, but studying them, planets, nebulae, asteroids, and other celestial bodies would be missed. They ebbed at the back of her mind like distant memories fighting not to be forgotten, but not enough to even entertain the idea of going back, not ever. Skylands may have lacked the twinkling lights igniting the night with patterns worshipped by her ancestors, but it was an infinite plane swelling with so much more than empty space and stardust yet to be crafted in anything aware of its impending heat death. Skylands was infinite; there was no heat death here, what she lived and did here might truly matter.

And one day, instead of looking up at a too-slow clock ticking away until she could clock out and crash onto a too stiff bed in a crummy and overpriced apartment, she'd see she was living in the good old days.

Small and silent puffs of air brushed blonde strands over her face. She had to pin her hair down to see Cynder's glassy blue eyes had fluttered shut. Her nostrils flared steadily and consistently; her breath wasn't warm or smelly, it was chilly and scentless like she was lying down in an igloo during the height of Winter. Jenny's friend had idly coiled up like a fox, trying to blanket her snout without a big, fluffy tail. The sickle-like tip sliced beneath her chin, the dragon didn't even notice. Her chest rose and lowered like any other sleeping creature, making her pinkish red wing membrane inflate until the motion lightly shoved the limb off. It unfolded along the sheets and hit the back wall, stretching out like a bat's anatomy diagram in her biology textbook. Her bones looked ready to tear through her hide and split apart her scales like the tightly layered, obsidian-strength armor was just a wax mold of itself.

But is she a cat or dog?

Eugenie rolled off the bed, casting aside most of her clothes save for the shirt and leggings, especially happy to take her shoes off. The brace may have been peeled off, but getting the pressure off felt like every muscle being stretched and each joint being popped at the same time. The maroon long-sleeve was growing on her! Maybe she should've given red a shot a long time ago. But that was the past, a past that the Portal Master left behind the second she touched that unstable, downright miraculous rift in the library basement. At the moment, she needed a new place to sleep.

She pressed her palms just above the back of her hip and pushed. Her entire spine crackled like firecrackers and she remembered in some fondness how one of her friends had recoiled like a cobra, the other held down a laugh at their buddy's expense to save her emotionless black image, Amanda and Brenda, Amy and Bren; Cynder made her think of the latter, but neither had been spoken to or thought of for a long time, even before her whole life turned around. The girls she grew up with for half her life were now naught but distant nostalgia as she made her way for the bathroom, as did the hummed song she only vaguely remembered the lyrics to while tightly squeezing the warm water out of her hair.

Eugenie left it unbrushed and unkempt as she redressed and wandered the obsidian halls, not to be caught dead like that if she was on Earth, or even walking through her own home. She'd let herself go (within reason) during the later part of her university stay, though by the sheer boredom of blowing through assignments before suffocating isolation drove her to start setting them aside completely, the 'successful girl' her Mother praised with it; this was the first time she felt good about doing it, though. The royal red and gold-trimmed carpets were soft on her sore feet as she calmly searched for T-bone, more chill and unbothered than she'd felt for a longer time than her high school years.

"The 'ship' started and ended at two different points, no docks in sight. Being followed is outta the picture, they'll be long gone." Some distant chatter echoed. The words were hard to make out but the sound was distinctly from the skeleton in question. They were probably worried about one of the ships for the giant scrapyard, far above her nonexistent pay grade. He didn't seem like he had any part in the industrial and economic side of the Crypts. Then again, a random skeleton in armor no different from all his buddies didn't seem like he'd be friends with who was effectively the princess or act as something of a leader to the guards. He probably did more than he let on.

One of them pointed her out to T-bone when she carefully rounded the corner. "Ey, bub, what'cha out and about for? Curfew's comin' up."

"Cynder... kinda passed out in the middle of my bed. I need somewhere else for tonight." The other guards chuckled at her expense, a mix of clattering xyo-bones and watery phlegm-filled zombie lungs heaved by beings that, by their very nature, had transcended the need to breathe at conception.

The main skeleton shrugged in resignation. "Just crash in her room." He waved her away and ushered off the group somewhere more private, away from any prying eyes like Eugenie's. In a realm filled to the brim with magic and downright alien species, there were likely a whole host of impossible things every major player was trying to hide from each other. Someone in his unclear, though obviously significant, position had to have very important secrets up his sleeve.

Getting brushed aside wasn't as bad when it happened in Skylands. On Earth, it happened all the time, no matter what she did or said, here, she could tell he and Cynder were just busier than normal. She'd even bet the dragoness had something planned for tomorrow; Cynder had some kind of lesson or chat prepared most other days. Her heart felt lighter with every step, everything felt lighter as she headed for the dragoness's room, she felt lighter with every step like she was walking with herself.

Her movement, while no faster than when she was casually strolling down the halls, felt like she was breaking into a full sprint at nothing but a somewhat hastened walk. Eagerness to get in a big, comfy black and purple bed right next to a library full of books none of her other sources provided her turned into a hastened pace she couldn't explain through rational means. She didn't need to explain it, she felt it. No need for mathematics, no need for geometric calculations as she flowed down the halls like a feather in the wind, no need for thinking it through.

Air streamed along and through her body like her organs were bellows fanning a vortex rapidly growing in her lungs. Or were they balloons? Did the difference matter? Was there a difference, in her specific case? Like her bones were hollow, it took a fraction of the effort to move. Perhaps one day her muscles would become tornadoes and her nervous system a series of lightning strikes; a body operating based on different frequencies and strengths of existing electrical systems may be more effective than one built on chemical hormones and on/off charged along her spine. What if her fingers could connect directly to her brain? What if her brain wasn't dependent on one, easily targeted place at the top of her physiology, but dispersed so no one section of her body demanded a good reaction time to operate fast enough for anything someone with her power might encounter?

But then, what would be the point of being Human? Where was the line drawn? And how much of her would still be herself?

She was at Cynder's door in the blink of an eye. When had she gotten here? How had the rain now pouring through the barred bridge not even touched her? It didn't matter right now, she was tired and a bit young to be pondering the existential ramifications of redefining her interpretation of Humanity. Her friend's completely black room sucked out all the light, the purple outlines spotted with the markings of old stubbed-claws guiding her between the bookshelf and bed. That portrait of Cynder that the dragon hated so much stared and judged the back of Eugenie's head in comically visible disappointment as the Portal Master's finger glided over the books' spines.

It settled on one paired with several other Undead books. 'Settled' being relative, she spun it clockwise a few times as she read the label before lifting the finger to the top and pulling it off the shelving like it was a lever. Cyan light twirled over her palms as she brought the tome to the bed, adjusted her clothes and the bedding to be comfortable, and set the book down for a first viewing. Nothing she'd ever tested before was written across the silky, cream, absurdly high-quality pages. They were as lovely to turn as the surface-level secrets were to read.

Undead summoning and commanding, specifically along the lines of making sets of bones follow certain commands, rather than juggling entire armies. She figured that might be within one of the other tomes on the shelf, but relented to herself that she needed to figure out handling one skele before she tried becoming a Necromancer. Handling so many corpses was a little much for her; she might be able to convince herself to play with pieces of one, maybe anything fewer than a finished corpse, but not a swarm of dead bodies. With any luck, the methodology of deeply understanding the makeup of a bone structure, how they moved in relation to each other, and learning the 'stories' of where the bones came from alongside the lingering emotions simultaneously diminishing and enhancing specific attributes could be applied to other fields of her uncontained studies.

Her foot knocked something off the bed as she idly kicked her feet up and down, something she hadn't done since she was a hyper child eating up one of the few and thin story books that fit in her schoolbag throughout middle school. She redirected her light spell, one of many basics gathered from a general spellcraft book, though the color of the light matching her eyes was a personal touch figured out after more than a few minor blasts of spark and some small burns along her forearms.

Reviewing the mental note to be way more careful about experimenting on parts of more powerful spells took about as much time to find whatever fell. It'd just rolled a short distance from the bedframe, she barely even had to draw the round white plastic container closer with a breeze. More like gesturing it closer with her middle and index fingers as if there was webbing between them than waving it closer with a whole hand. She rolled over the corner of the tome as she brought it up to her face.

The label had some strange symbols that, based on their positioning and bright red or yellow colorings, were the Skylands version of toxin and drug warnings. This one in particular was an empty bottle of burn cream. She hadn't seen any such injuries on the black dragon as she freely slithered and fell asleep through the Castle and on Eugenie's bed, but Cynder had a bigger mattress and slept curled up, anyway. The way Jenny saw it, she'd missed the discarded medicine on one side of the bed after a rough day tending to broken forges. Not like her healing ability left any marks, anyway.

She lightly threw it away before turning back to her latest fascination; flipping through pages on the anatomy of various species, the meanings of the specific bones, and how they could be connected according to their proper layouts versus alternate patterns certain structures allowed for.

Would a set of skeleton arms count as two extra limbs when fanning aeromancy?

-<🌀>-

Blinding golden light burned through Spyro's exhausted eyes, brighter than anything he'd ever seen, and a roar like deafening winds made his ears bleed. The rushing air quickly faded to the background, calmer like a distant storm. He lifted a paw to rub his eyes, they felt wet and smelled of the rain. When he blinked away the painful light and his vision adjusted, black slime mixed with blood covered his talons. It didn't look or smell like oil, but appeared to drain all light that touched it. His hands shook, but he couldn't tell if it was from pain or cold.

The gold light turned pure white, stinging his eyes again as he looked up and protected his face with a bloody, not-quite-oily paw. The bottom of a familiar light blue robe swayed around a pair of sandals. His eyes glossed upward through the painful light, burning his eyes and stinging his scales as Eon's face looked down on him from far above, each of his horns and the gem at the center of his helmet appeared as unreachable as other islands, each holding treasures not meant for him.

His Portal Master's beard billowed in the cold breeze. Its many threads moved in perfect harmony, not one tangleing or overlaying any other. His bright blue eyes were cold, narrow, and judgmental. Not angry, but resigned and disappointed. In a blink, George and Chop Chop flanked him. The Undead Knight loomed over the dragon, almost as high as Master Eon, while George was comfortably at his side with crossed arms and a quaking Portal of Power humming with Earth orbiting around his head. The younger Portal Master and Elite Skylander vanished in a burning blast of pure light, Earth and Undead Skylander markings bursting out of their skin and armor before Warp Dashing away.

Eon didn't, not even giving him the peace of ending it quickly before he dismissively turned his back on the trembling little dragon, not for the first time. His silence cut through the stinging light and rushing wind. The light faded with him. Spyro was left in the epicenter of a roaring whirlwind. His heart fell out of his chest, yet his core felt lighter. Chains felt like they were falling from his wrists and from around his neck, but so many weights were crushing him at the same time. He was helplessly failing to sort through either sensation as his body soared and soul shattered.

When the light vanished from his life and the man who found him was gone, it became clear he wasn't standing in the middle of a raging storm, but in the heart of Darkness. Rushing air turned out to be distant, abyssal roars suddenly closing in from all sides. Sparks of cyan electricity crackled through the blackness as his head fell low, finding an abundance of broken charcoal lying between his paws. It was scattered like ash across a field of dead grass and rocks covered in grease.

The oily substance around his claws and the streaming blood grew, crawling up his arms, eating away at them. The blood was his, and the Dark fluid was drinking it, devouring him. His talons, or what was left of them, scraped off and sliced through every bit of it they could, but their flawlessly sharp points and edges were eroded to dull ovals with rounded ends. The pitiful portions of the substance he managed to peel off his withering scales to expose the muscle and blood vessels it was consuming made no sound as they impacted and sizzled on the dead grass, eating it like acid while the rest continued moving up his limbs and tightening down to his bone.

Not knowing what else to do, he tried grabbing the chunks of igneous rock to rub the fluid off like a sponge, happening to look between his forelegs at the rest of the scattered charcoal and a brown and green shape. He thrust himself forward with his wings, moth holes rapidly growing within them, to the motionless Forest Elf. Her limbs flopped limply as he lunged to steal and hoist her into his decaying arms. Though Spyro's paws were nothing but sludge and ash with the tips of his skeleton stabbing out of his forearms, he cradled Stealth Elf to the best of his ability in his biceps and the crooks of his elbows.

Black blood leaked from deep claw marks across her chest and her leather armor had been reduced to ribbons, slowly being eaten away like her skin and his scales, but without the shield of vitality and magic flowing through her body. Her eyes were open, staring up at him, but saw nothing; they were as empty as the ones in the mirror. Half of her bandana was gone, as was most of the cheek underneath. Her teeth were rotting away until there was a gap large enough for her tongue to droop out the side, also turning to dust shortly.

With a wet crack, his forearms fell away. The bone stabbed the ground a second before Elfie's body crumbled into dust and a puddle of lightless goo. He couldn't even hold her. Where was Eruptor? He blinked through the slime gathering along his spine and dripping down his face. Tendrils formed out of the material clinging to his fading legs, lashing the ground before him and slicing open chunks of black rocks.

Cold rocks.

Cooled lava.

Spyro's breath caught in his throat with a childish whimper. You're supposed to be a Skylander, act like it. His horns cracked and fell to the hallowed soil with thuds, a larger set of malformed, asymmetrical horns formed around his breaking skull as his head lifted in faux-triumph to find the Core of Light. Its pieces were bent and shattered; bones and vines were dried and splintered, gears and framework were rusted like they were nothing but common metal, water and oil were thick with toxic sludge, fires and electrical lines were extinguished, and the center channel spewed not a photon across the Skylands.

The Darkness closed in, cyan lightning sparking more and more. At the center of the Core of Light's ruin sat a dragon cloaked in shadows. Its mangled and split horns pierced the skies above its frill of spikes and dots of Darkness fluttered off of its body like gravity had been inverted. Tendrils, or spikes, curled and flicked off the back of its body, constantly growing and shifting and shrinking like the dragon couldn't decide if it had a line of spinal ridges or several appendages sprouting from its deformed scales. Its disproportionate tail was lined with twisting horns and tendrils lashing out at all the debris in reach, though the Core was already dead. The spike on the end was gnarled and hooked, a deceased vine covered in burnt orchids trapped on its end.

A set of wings, broad and formed around jagged bones, flared out. The spikes on the main joints were just as wicked as the one on the tail, as were the knives on the end of the fingers stretching out the shadowy membrane full of rips and gushing spots of Darkness like they were bleeding. The muscles attaching them to its shoulders were riddled with serrated spines and coiling hooks; pained cracks and jittery motions shook the black dragon as a crest of spikes sprouting from its collarbone and curving back over its shoulders like a Vampire Lord's collar shifted and broke so the wings could catch bolts of lightning.

The electricity turned black with bloody outlines so deeply red it felt like his bloodshot ruby eyes were bleeding as it crackled around the obscured dragon. The shadows didn't fade as it reared, bones snapping and flesh tearing as the overabundance of horns and daggers moved across its body to make room for new changes and mutations. Darkness lingered, but that was all that stayed consistent as it fought just to move. The Eternal Sources of every Element closed in on the creature from all sides, burning eyes opening with sparks of red energy jumping to its horns and red flames blasting upward like a pair of unstable burners, crawling towards the Dark sky with alarming speed and getting far too distant from the dragon's eyes before the fires started to disperse.

One by one, more and more eyes burst open like jaws screaming in pain, lining its quasi-frill and spikes and neck. The muscles about its upper arms, thighs, shoulders of its wings, and thick base of its tail tore open with burning red eyes. Its chest plates, if they were there, shattered like glass to stare into Spyro. In a blink and shiver of unnatural cold sucking away what little light remained, it appeared right before him, extending a talon with horns and hooks and spikes all along its forearm. There were too many claws along the offering, growing out of its knuckles, the back of its paw, and stabbing through the paw itself.

Scroll papers were scattered and a pencil was flung across the room when Spyro awoke like he'd been shocked. The image of the Dark Dragon flashed in his mind's eye over and over, different portions reflecting through his pupils like his mind was putting together a puzzle he didn't want the full picture of. Black muscles looked like wires and horns radiated power like antennae beaming corrupted messages across his body.

ᛒᛚᚣᛞ᛫ᚫᚾᛞ᛫ᛥᚱᛖᛝᚦ᛫ᚳᚫᚾ᛫ᚱᛖᚠᚪᚱᚷᛖ᛫ᚫᚾᛄᚦᛁᛝ, ᛋᚳᛄᛚᚫᚾᛞᛋ᛫ᚹᛁᛚᛚ᛫ᚳᚱᚢᛗᛒᛚᛖ᛫ᚢᚾᛞᚢᚱ᛫ᛄᚪᚹᚱ᛫ᛗᛁᚷᚻᛏ. ᛈᛚᛠᛁᛝ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᛗᚪᚱᛏᛄᚱ᛫ᛗᚢᛥ᛫ᛒᛖ᛫ᛖᛉᚻᛟᛥᛁᛝ, ᚹᚻᛖᚾ᛫ᚹᚫᛋ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᛚᚫᛥ᛫ᛏᛁᛗᛖ᛫ᛄᚪᚹ᛫ᛁᚾᛞᚢᛚᚷᛖᛞ᛫ᛄᚪᚹᚱᛋᛖᛚᚠ? ᚦᛁᛋ᛫ᚾᛁᛁᛞ᛫ᚾᛟᛏ᛫ᚳᛟᛗᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛈᚫᛋᛋ, ᚠᚫᛏᛖ᛫ᛁᛋ᛫ᚫᛋ᛫ᛋᚢᛒᚷᚻᛖᚳᛏ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᚳᚻᚫᛝᛖ᛫ᚫᛋ᛫ᛄᚪᚹ᛫ᚪᚱᛖ, ᚾᛟᛏ᛫ᛖᚠᛖᚾ᛫ᛒᛖᛁᛝ᛫ᚪ᛫ᛋᚳᛄᛚᚫᚾᛞᚢᚱ᛫ᛁᛋ᛫ᛋᛖᛏ᛫ᛁᚾ᛫ᛥᛟᚾᛖ. ᚦᛖ᛫ᛈᛠᚾ᛫ᚹᛁᛚᛚ᛫ᚠᚫᛞᛖ᛫ᚫᛋ᛫ᚠᚫᛥ᛫ᚫᛋ᛫ᛄᚪᚹᚱ᛫ᚳᚪᚱᛖ᛫ᚠᚪᚱ᛫ᚦᚫᛏ᛫ᛟᛚᛞ᛫ᚱᛖᛚᛁᚳ, ᛏᚩ᛫ᚠᚫᛚᛚ᛫ᚫᚾᛞ᛫ᚹᛁᚦᚢᚱ᛫ᛁᛋ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᚾᚫᛏᚢᚱᛖ᛫ᛟᚠ᛫ᛚᛁᚠᛖ, ᛒᚢᛏ᛫ᛄᚪᚹ᛫ᛞᛟᚾ'ᛏ᛫ᚻᚫᚠᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛋᚢᚠᚠᚢᚱ᛫ᚠᚪᚱ᛫ᛁᛏ.

His heart thundered like a pounding engine and his lungs couldn't hold any air. Everything that went in was forced back out before his body could process it like his organs were stalling. No matter how he looked at his empty paws and the papers beneath him, all he could see was the vivid image of Elfie fading from his grasp, even through the incredibly blurry eyes darting between everything remotely significant enough to draw one's eye and nothing at the same time. His whole body felt on fire, but only his throat and chest swelled with unreleased flames and choking black smoke. All four of the dragon's legs shook and his wings were locked in place, forcefully folded to his heaving sides, every muscle caught so tight his bones were ready to fracture like twigs.

ᛗᛖᚳᚻᚫᚾᛁᛋᚫᛏᛁᛟᚾ᛫ᚫᚾᛞ᛫ᛁᚾᚾᛟᚠᚫᛏᛁᛟᚾ᛫ᚹᛁᛚᛚ᛫ᛟᚠᚢᚱᚳᛟᛗᛖ᛫ᛖᚠᚢᚱᛄ᛫ᚻᚢᚱᛞᛚᛖ; ᚫᛚᛚ᛫ᛁᛏ᛫ᛏᚫᚳᛖᛋ᛫ᛁᛋ᛫ᚪ᛫ᛏᚪᚹᚳᚻ᛫ᛟᚠ᛫ᛁᚾᛋᛈᚢᚱᚫᛏᛁᛟᚾ. ᛈᚪᚹᚢᚱ᛫ᚹᛁᚦᚪᚹᛏ᛫ᚱᛖᛥᚱᛠᚾᛏ, ᚠᚢᚱᛖ᛫ᚦᚫᛏ᛫ᚱᚫᚷᛖ᛫ᛒᛖᛄᛟᚾᛞ᛫ᚳᛟᛗᛈᚱᛖᚻᛖᚾᛋᛁᛟᚾ᛫ᚫᚾᛞ᛫ᛥᚪᚱᛗᛋ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛥᚱᛁᚳᛖ᛫ᚦᚱᚪᚹᚷᚻ᛫ᚫᚾᛄ᛫ᚠᚪᚱᚳᛖ᛫ᚹᛁᛚᛚ᛫ᛈᛁᚢᚱᚳᛖ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᛞᚪᚱᚳᚾᛖᛋᛋ᛫ᚹᛁᚦ᛫ᛖᚫᛋᛖ. ᚦᛖ᛫ᛈᚢᚱᛁᛏᛄ᛫ᛟᚠ᛫ᚾᚫᛏᚢᚱᛖ᛫ᚳᚫᚾᚾᛟᛏ᛫ᛒᛖ᛫ᚱᛖᛈᛚᚫᚳᛖᛞ, ᛒᛖᚳᛟᛗᛖ᛫ᚦᛖ᛫ᛗᛁᛋᛋᛁᛝ᛫ᛚᛁᛝᚳ. ᚫᛚᛚ᛫ᚳᚫᚾ᛫ᛒᛖ᛫ᛗᚫᛞᛖ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᛈᛠ᛫ᚠᚪᚱ᛫ᚫᚾᛄ᛫ᛏᚱᚫᚾᛋᚷᚱᛖᛋᛋᛁᛟᚾ, ᚫᛚᛚ᛫ᚳᚫᚾ᛫ᛒᛖ᛫ᛏᛟᚷᚻᛏ᛫ᚠᛖᚪᚱ, ᚫᛚᛚ᛫ᚳᚫᚾ᛫ᛒᛖ᛫ᛒᚱᚪᚹᚷᚻᛏ᛫ᛏᚩ᛫ᚻᛁᛁᛚ.

-<🌀>-

"Again... I'm sorry about-"

"I know, Stealth, it's not like you planned for this." Cami Flage interrupted for the nth time this morning. "It's always worse when you're not expecting it." Defused her repeated apologies for the time being.

The clouds had only just begun to clear, and not for good. More like a small respite where the glow of the Core of Light could again shine, turning some of the clouds along the edges of Stealth Elf's bane lighter gray before the darker ones returned with a smaller shower, though she was doing a lot better now that she'd adjusted. It didn't stop the Grandmaster from putting up everyone's sheets for the day. Most didn't even need to be washed, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do besides cut through more of the animated curse. Because of the humidity and frequent rainfall in this area, she kept the washed sheets covered by a mesh of large leaves, also good for hiding their laundry from the younger folks who wanted to play with the leather armors.

One such pair of a vest and leggings was constantly being adjusted over the Skylander's shoulders and knees. Even her bandana had been left inside to make fidgeting with the way-too-tight spare clothes a little easier. "I refuse to believe I used to fit in these."

Cami Flage chuckled heartily. It'd been a long time since the smaller Elf heard a genuine laugh like hers. "You didn't, you were just a little girl when you qualified for the Academy. It's a good thing I held onto the bigger sets after you left." She dragged the leaf cover closed in preparation for the next rainfall. "Speaking of which, how was it?"

"Which part?" Stealth shrugged while twisting her torso and trying to breathe normally. "I mean, the Training Isles are good, the Life side of the island is nice and private-"

"The people, Stealth. What are your friends like?" She clarified, something she was getting used to. Neither of her girls could read a room for the life of them and she was talking to the one who, ironically, put life last.

"I-... uh, well..." Her former student awkwardly held her upper arm and shifted away from the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster didn't let her escape. "You have friends, don't you?"

She shrugged. "I have my team but... I'm not sure."

Cami Flage pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. This was probably her fault, too. The Skylander was the trial run, indeed. "Tell me about them, then."

Her ears slightly perked up; not angled upward, but a little more level. "Both of them cover my weaknesses. Eruptor's a Lava Elemental, our tank, and our muscle. Spyro's a dragon, he's not as fast as I am but he can fly and take a hit. I'm not sure what you'd call what he does, though. Maybe our wildcard? He's right behind Eruptor and I on everything-"

Cami had to fight not to groan again as Steakth went on and on about everything she wasn't asking for. "I mean who are they, not what they do. What are they like when you're not training?"

Stealth Elf paused, thinking it over. The Grandmaster almost held her breath, hoping she didn't spend all her time training and spent some time with her comrades. "Eruptor likes to cook." She eventually offered like it was the only significant thing that came to mind. "And Spyro..." Her ears drooped and her grip on her arm got tighter until both it and her knuckles started turning white as Cami Flage opened the hut's door.

They were alone, for now; Whisper wanted to play in the mud with some friends, this might be the only time during the visit that she could get something worthwhile out of Stealth. "What happened?"

She hesitated and looked back and forth between her Grandmasters and the room she'd been staying in. "We had a fight with Spyro before the Final Trials. We said a lot of things we didn't mean and that he wasn't pulling his weight or taking becoming a Skylander seriously." Elfie droned like she was giving a battle report, not having a chat with an old lady. She teleported to her room and returned with a present box of Life emblem wrapping. "The next day, we found this hidden in one of the cabinets and learned he did a lot of the housework behind our backs."

So that's what the backpack was for. She hummed and invited Elfie to sit at the table. Her ears were as low as her gaze as she stared into the present like something was going to pop out and swallow her whole. Her dull eyes were half-lidded and her hair lazily drooped before her face. "Eruptor already opened his... It was this giant cookbook of all his favorite foods, he even had stories about the times he made them for us in there... It was perfect."

"And why haven't you opened yours?" Cami Flage knew the answer, favoring having the Forest Elf admit it to herself.

"...He put so much into that book, we didn't even think he remembered half the stuff in it... Then we have that fight, he's been doing loads while we weren't looking..." Her head stayed pinned to the present, refusing to meet her Grandmaster's white eyes. "...I don't deserve this..."

"Does Eruptor love his gift?" She reached over to grab one of Stealth's hands, she didn't even look up as she nodded. "And Spryo must've put a lot of work into these, right?" The Skylander finally looked her in the eyes. "He made this for you. If he didn't care, he wouldn't still be on a team with you, would he? Do you think getting it back after one argument will make him feel worse than never seeing you try it?" She less than subtly guided Stealth to the answer.

Her chest stiffly inflated and flattened as she struggled to get a deep breath of air through the small leather vest, swallowed, and tugged the end away from her shoulder before hesitantly reaching for the silky blue ribbon. She barely even undid the absurdly neat knot before looking up as if she needed her teacher's permission to open her own gift. The ribbon came perfectly undone with a single gentle tug of one strand and easily fell away. Her finger silently slid between the paper and a piece of tape, she shoved it off a simple brown box underneath. Its lid slipped off as easily as her fingers grabbed it with unreasonable gentleness for an inanimate object meant to be opened and trashed.

"...Wow..." Stealth Elf's eyes widened, ears lifted, and breath was stolen before she teleported away.

Some clattering and thuds came from the bathroom for a few seconds, then she shyly emerged with the box and tight leather clothes in her arms. Perfectly fitting her form was a lightweight and flexible suit of black scale armor. Her boots were wider at the bottoms, a small covering angling smoothly out of the shin area to guard the top of the cloth shoe, but not enough to limit movement. Scales were sewn into the top of the shoe, complete with the toe-gap all of the ninjas' apparel traditionally featured. The armor slotted beneath a knee pad with a short triangle coming out the top, connecting to silky and baggy blue fabric billowing wide away from the wearer's thighs up to her hips, it matched her hair exactly.

There was a small flap in between the legs, draping down and over a scaly skirt, the center covered in black scales and the edges having the seams of tough leather keeping it together as the scaled belt shifted smoothly and quietly over the looser sheet of scales over Stealth's stomach. The chest piece was significantly tougher, solid, the glint of painted-over metal shone at the edges of the overlaying scales as she experimentally twisted her body. It was roomier and full of padding with a triangular plate jutting up from the cover, guarding her jugular, but dull and pointed away from it.

Her throat didn't appear to need much protecting, however, a mix between a bandana and a scarf studded with spread-apart and small scales was pulled down around her neck. A pair of shoulder plates tightly clung to her, but moved as muted as the belt as the softer insides absorbed the noise of the grinding metal and polished scales. More loose, free-moving blue silk bridged the gap between her shoulders and elbows, partially covered by the edges of the black gauntlets. There was another protrusion covering the back of her wrists, still letting her twist and flick freely. Other than a pad of scales on the back of her hand and some small, unobtrusive plating over her palm, the glove was tough but thin fabric complete with gripping pads over her fingertips.

The shin guards, gauntlets, shoulder plates, finger pads, center of the scarf, shield-shaped belt buckle, and a spot over her heart were engraved with blue Life symbols. Most of it wasn't enchanted, not beyond some basic temperature control, but they could feel the untapped magic potential radiating off the authentic dragon scales. Not only were the ends of her scarf adorned with blue Life emblems and lapis trims, they were almost as long as her braid, the simple hairtie at the end being replaced by a fancy gold cylinder with black etchings on either end. Her fingers were well contained by well-concealed, pyramid-like steel caps with one side missing so the finger pads could mold into them, they only became noticeable when she shyly and uncomfortably treaded up to her Grandmaster; she reminded her of Whisper after she counted how many cookies were left.

Stealth pulled the top of the bandana over her face, finding there was a flexible metal band built in so she could affix it to her nose comfortably. The sides smoothly lined the bottoms of her eyes and the tiny scales sewn in overlaid her freckles with plenty of plain black fabric between them for freedom of movement. "What do you think?"

"What do you think?" She tapped the Life emblem over Stealth's heart. The scales bent her fingernail, even with little pressure.

"I... It's perfect." She admitted, tightening her grip on the leather clothes before Cami Flage took them away. Elfie placed the box on the counter, it landed with a weighty clunk like metal.

Her student sat down again and took a breath before she grabbed the final pieces. A pair of double-sided daggers was neatly stuffed beneath the outfit. Their handles were made from rich black leather and were the ideal size for Stealth Elf's gloved hands. A gold blade like a cross between brass knuckles and the guard of a cutlass was just the right distance from the handle for her fingers to slot into a series of leaf-shaped holes in the center. Its smooth edge extended between a pair of absurdly pearly, long, well-sharpened, razor's edge, glistening, real dragon fangs. The curved weapons balanced strangely well on the very tips of her gloved fingers and their centers spun effortlessly in her hands like the blades of a royal skyship propeller.

"Now that's a Skylander." Cami Flage complemented and wrapped Elfie in a hug. Her heart skipped and a shudder ran through her spine. Every alarm in her head blared DANGER like she was being grappled.

She twisted her body and blinked away from the Grandmaster in a fraction of a second. Her new blades twirled in her hand like they were her main weapons throughout the entirety of her training. Her bleached white eyes were narrow and passively targeted every notable joint, mentally marked the locations of vital organs, and noted any weak points unrelated to biology as if she were in the heart of the battlefield. Only unlike the ninja dwelling in their many huts and keeping to the shadows of trees, this was a Skylander who wouldn't be so easily dispatched when the element of surprize was lost, one who didn't need silence and obscurity to assassinate a target, a ninja not too dependent on the dark to wage empire-spanning warfare at the drop of a hat.

And a reflex she helped ingrain long before she was sent off to the Skylander Academy.

Eon's Skylanders had done well at crafting the girl into a warrior capable of handling any situation, as did Cami Flage and Sensei Ambush before she was deemed ready, but that was no individual suited for casual life; their training was curated for people who already had lives. Stealth Elf, for better and worse, was no such normal girl trying to grasp at the peak of a person's potential. It took her a moment to figure out what she'd done and return to normal. Normal for Stealth Elf, anyway.

Her new blades clanked as she pressed her palms together and bowed. "I'm sorry-"

"Hold on, just breathe." Cami brushed aside the incident. "Not used to downtime?" She tried to get Stealth to shake off the overly formal energy with a chuckle.

Elfie took a deep breath and fiddled with new blades, discovering something like a magnet or attraction enchantment on the belt letting them stick to her sides like sheathes. "Everything in the Academy was 'gogogo' all the time." She ran her clawed hand through her hair in an awkward attempt to subtly cover her darkened cheeks. "Now nothing's happening and..."

"You haven't meditated in quite some time." The Grandmaster pointed out. "You and Whisper are more alike than you think."

Stealth Elf gulped, hesitated, and vaguely pointed to her tooth gap. "Is there any chance she's..."

Ah... She inhaled and steadied herself on the arm of a chair. "I'm afraid not, Stealth. Ignore the age gap; yours is genetic, she's just reckless." Her failed laugh sounded like ruffling sandpaper.

The pause that followed felt like it lasted an hour before Elfie drew her blades again. "You're going into the forest soon, right? I'm coming with you."

Cami Flage had to blink through the hut to catch up to the Skylander as she burst out the door, and not because of the years catching up to her (a confusing but pleasant mix of relief and pride). "This week is the only time off you'll get for a while, you need to rest-"

"I need to figure out what's going on. Something big is going on at the Academy and I don't know when I can drag the team here. I have to take a stab at this while I have the chance." She teleported away again, dashing and blinking through the foliage and leaping off the trees towards the village.

She definitely wasn't looking for a distraction.

Not like they were in the position to reject a Skylander's blades.

Chapter Text

Cynder's day started later than she would've liked; there was a lot to do behind the scenes and she couldn't afford to let Eugenie spot her, and being spotted meant getting asked where she was going. Fortunately, there were loads of secret doors and false walls running throughout her adoptive Father's fortresses. The double-sided one he dwelled in alone was full of hidden passages, let alone the several shield-bearing fortresses preventing access to his nest. The gargantuan shards of Petrified Darkness hissing with energy and flashing arcane symbols for countless barriers and wards loomed at the peaks of the flanking outposts, holding strong against the rest of the Cadaverous Crypts like a collection of leering eyes. Her Father's vision through the corrupted crystals was more of a rumor than common knowledge, he liked keeping his information lines both direct and under wraps.

T-bone was able to confirm the operation was a success and Jenny knew nothing about it. That didn't mean they were in the clear to open and block all the portals they wanted, far from it. Depending on how much of their info was a pile of ancient, pre-war hearsay or genuine historical or academic texts, it may not take an Air Portal Master long to figure out something was off. Even so, they couldn't overuse her abilities without someone in a high place catching on or Eon locating their ally. But they also couldn't keep her from practicing, else she start putting pieces together or lack the ability to contest the old wizard's tears in reality when they needed to keep him out.

So the dragoness's scales were getting peeled right off her back no matter what they did.

Trying to get Eugenie on board with their plans remained off the table; waderlust had her by the throat. Chaining her to one path would be impossible, regardless of her compass, especially since she'd barely seen two fractions of the Skylands' infinite expanse between a middle-of-nowhere Air stronghold and whatever portions of the Crypts Malefor gave the okay for. She had to be kept in the dark, at least for the most part. Maybe they could get an 'Advanced Air Mage' in the field, eventually, but she needed to finish putting some pieces together.

Her cards needed to extend beyond 'steal her bed and leave some specific books at her eye level' fast. She needed to make time to write a functional game plan for the Dark Master and T-bone, she could make it look pretty later. For now, the Eugenie problem was running amok and unaccounted for. One of the books she'd been hoping the girl would pick up was on the bed, putting together a small force of expendable, cheap, and non-sentient or intimidatable skeletons was a good place to start. How much of it Jenny would take into consideration, only time would tell. Let her simmer on this, she might already have some ideas for it.

Since Eugenie couldn't have wandered far and she'd recently touched the book, it was easy to track her down. Through her window, Cynder dashed in a cloud of shadows. Her wings caught the stale air and carried her between the dead islands. Brambled passed her by and the wind was so littered with decay and Undeath that no normal people could breathe it safely. Even some Life and Earth Skylanders would need a protective charm or two just to raid Malefor's Castle. Not even the Mabu Defense Force was stupid enough to be so brash in an approach, nor were they foolish enough to try any other route without a team of Skylanders to hide behind.

The Portal Master's signature was somewhat drowned in a horde of the Undead, mainly zombies and skeletons in the bustling center of Fiesta's hometown. A whirling portal of Air and small lightning bolts was bursting with life, opening and closing repeatedly as Cynder circled far above. She would gesture a figure to step up, accept a slip of paper and a couple of coins, then the portal would fill with Air and reconnect to another part of Skylands.

She stayed in the skies, flapping her wings to speed up and slow down to see where the portals were connecting. It was nowhere major, thankfully, most of the populace were just handing over the coords to their jobs to skip the long lines to the platform portals; a couple gold coins for speed convenience. They were visibly within the Cadaverous Crypts' bounds, if not Malefor's domain in general. The dragon kept a plenty tight enough hold on his armies to keep word from getting out. She could have her fun and make her money, for now.

"Eugenie!" She started gliding down.

She perked and looked around, eventually finding where the dragoness was flying and wrapping up her little business. "Good morning!"

Cynder made sure the commoners were dispersing at her presence before rearing up on her hind legs and gently pulling the Portal Master closer by the shoulders. "Jenny, what're you doing? You can't be flinging rifts anywhere you want."

"Why not?" She asked while staring down the dragon's snout, unsure which eyes she was trying to look into. "Nobody's tried to get through the forts and these people just want a bus."

"A bus?" Cynder blinked, then shook her head and released Eugenie. "Nevermind. Just because nobody here has it out for a Portal Master doesn't mean someone won't turn their head if word gets out that we're hiding someone that powerful." Mainly Malefor, before he eats me. "You know what? Just grab your gold and come with me." Cynder pinched the bridge of her snout and gestured the Human to follow. She knew a clear and bland area where they could have a short lesson.

-<🌀>-

She barely recognized the ninja gathering around the edge of the forbidden forest. A lot of them were shorter than she was expecting, either above their ages' skill levels or they appeared larger when she was a little girl. Katanas and their smaller, more ninja-suited cousins, ninjatos, were the clear favorites. With Whisper Elf under the Grandmaster's care, Sensei Ambush was the only other local legend giving lessons. Not that the other weapon masters weren't valued, but they could only do so much next to an ancient Elite.

Cami Flage signaled the hunt to begin. The entire group was off in a flash, but not quite as quickly as Stealth Elf. Her new blades moved as smoothly as she did and the trees blurred by with a familiarity that only this forest could get out of her. Not one whiff of the specific blend of smells had changed since she last masked her movements in the leaves, the bushes still jostled in the exact same way, the moss made the rocks just as slippery as when her tree's careful vines were teaching her to walk, and the grass was just as ticklish as her very first steps.

Her shoes pattered silently across bark and between branches, gradually gaining distance from the rest of the group. The Grandmaster wasn't too far behind. The most subtle of giveaways and rustling leaves told her where the entirety of the group was, where they were headed, and what they were doing; such senses so far beyond those of a Forest Elf were a gift of hers, ever since she was a sprout climbing her tree's thorny roots and able to compete with those of the Drow.

As far as she knew, she wasn't half bad besides the Dark Elves' melee warriors, she was hoping to get to the archers' levels in due time. For now, she effortlessly outcompeted the other ninjas. Even Cami Flage was starting to fall behind, but not by much. Her Grandmaster hadn't been ritualistically sprinting through the Training Isles. Some primitive thatch rope and sickle grappling hooks swung through the leaves and cut through brush as the slightly slower, ambush and confusion-focused ninjas worked to keep up with the rest of the hunt.

The first of their marks shambled through the bushes a short distance away. It was covered head to toe in plant matter, bark coated its limbs and wound around its chest, vines acted as its muscles and made a spiral of its face, and leaves deceptively innocently as they filled the gaps. The basis of its form was that of an old Elf skeleton, the difference between a Forest or Dark Elf not being visible; she couldn't figure out how old the body was, but the amount of plants covering every millimeter meant the warrior had been gone for a very long time, possibly before she set out for the Academy.

Before any of the other ninja were in range, she dashed down from the treetops and glided her blades straight through the reanimated corpse's torso. The pearly, subtly iridescent dragon fangs slashed through the bark, vines, and bone as easily as they did the air. The light resistance of the attack didn't even vibrate up her forearm and not a single particle of debris or fibers clung to the fangs before she blinked back up to the trees. The covered skeleton landed with a thud to become one with the soil and her kill confirmed by those fallen behind.

A long-lost troll, once consumed by the forest for trying to reach their homes, was hacked to pieces in just a couple of swipes from Grandmaster Cami Flage, she vanished in a green cloud and sheathed her blade while running between branches beside the Skylander. The trees became more gnarled and twisted the further in they ventured. The branches became jagged and curled, their leaves grew in spotty places and in such dense numbers that they could barely get any sunlight, and fungus burst out of their trunks like axe blades. At least they made for good platforms to wait, along with Cami Flage, for the rest of the team. The team and I would've been burning through twice as many plant monsters by now.

Most of the closest animations were of similar, plant-ridden structure, just in slightly varying states of decay. If 'bleached' and 'slimy' skeletons were counted as different states, anyway. None of them held against Stealth Elf's or the Grandmaster's dragon tooth blades and ancient katana. The rest of their band, however, didn't have such powerful weapons. Curved swords were starting to be dulled by wood and arrows were running low. Shurikens couldn't penetrate deep enough to deal effective damage and throwing knives were becoming tangled in vines. But all of them were falling further behind, left vulnerable on the forest floor as they fought to dislodge their weapons from the old corpses when another, more concentrated and focused wave approached from the depths.

They were more mushrooms than foliage, colored creamish with tall red shafts like blunt needles swaying as they approached. Large fans of mycelium flared out of their collars like backdrops for their featureless heads. If there were any corpses within, they were even more thoroughly covered than the plant zombies and full of stringy roots. They were a lot taller than any invaders Elfie was aware of, each nearing twice the Forest Elves' size, but with largely the same body plan. Some of the fungus were built like centaurs and wielded primitive clubs for weapons, but that and their basic swarming tactics were the only hints of greater intelligence than the standard, non-sentient undead minions she fought in the Final Trials.

One of the younger, brasher ninjas held the line on the ground as his companion's sickle got stuck in the better-armed renditions, parrying a clawed swipe from one of the mushroom warriors and deflecting another that tried to take advantage of the opening. For them, it was hard to tell if there was any logic behind such maneuvers or just a bunch of attacks coming out at the same time, but Stealth Elf and Cami Flage could see the slight delays and hastened strikes as they worked together to push the ninjas back. And they were no front-line fighters, far from it.

A charge from the four-legged, footless soldiers formed up against the clan, but found difficulty maneuvering through the trees as a solid line. Some of them came out ahead of the others, allowing the headstrong student to slash at the joints of their fungus and calcium shells. They did their best to grab his ankles and swing their basic weapons from the floor, but all the ninjas already needed to move too fast to be snatched so easily as they struck at individual targets. While they lacked the mycelium's uniformity and teamwork, they had a Skylander.

Multiple fighters prepared their slashes, drew their bowstrings, reared back their daggers, and aimed their throwing knives at the nearest mark, just for a green and black and night sky blue blur to carve through the figure with strikes so precise there wasn't any debris or mushroom bits following her. The next second, right when they chose and got ready to attack a new soldier, Stealth Elf snatched their kill in the blink of a pupilless eye.

Nutrient-rich fluid and chips of bony armor glided and slipped off Spyro's exquisitely sharpened fangs; no bloodstains could stick to them. The gold knuckle guards bashed open the carapaces of those that weren't close enough to cut in half, decapitate, or disarm, leaving many deep cracks in their bodies that arrows and swords slid straight into. Constructs began tripping and flailing over the bodies of their comrades, often bringing their clubs and salvaged weapons down with them.

She got to inspect one of the soldiers when all was done and quiet. Her new blade pried open a chest easily, sending a few bits into the frontrunner's shoulder while she ripped apart the internals. None of them were from people, it was a bunch of fungus and pieces of whatever dirt or rocks they'd grown around all the way through. Her bladed knuckle punched through the other side of the creature as the thick nutrient water filled the corpse like it was bleeding.

Keeping track of all kinds of non-Life or Dark spells, curses, rituals, and summons wasn't her strong suit. There was no battery, but she didn't need that to know these had nothing to do with the Tech Element. An arcane core was absent, so it couldn't be a golem... or were they the ones that used enchanted materials and specific sigils on their bodies to become useful? What type of construct used arcane cores? Or were they subcategories of the same construct? Of all the times to need Spyro. All she could conclude was that these were not of the Life Element, she could feel it. Her tattoos didn't glimmer beneath her skin and out of her Soul as her fingers glossed over the plating, but she couldn't put those fingers on which Element they were born from.

No Element wasn't an option, there was something resonating through the essence of Skylands. She was a Skylander, she was Skylands, Skylands was this creature, they were one in the same, but she couldn't understand it. Like a spot on her back or the workings of a brain, these beings were right in the palm of her hand, yet just out of reach. There was a distinct and disquieting sensation like venom crawling through the body within Kaos's Darkness at the Arena, but she didn't know what else to compare the cold, black talons grasping her heart to.

"Any ideas?" Her Grandmaster crouched by her side.

The other ninja quickly turned their attention to the pair. "I wanna say Darkness but..." Stealth Elf tried to offer a solution as if she'd diagnosed the sickness. "I need another opinion, or to go deeper."

"We could barely weather this." One of the other hunters, grasping a long knife, protested.

"You could barely weather this." She straightened her posture and returned with a small bite.

Cami Flage stuffed down an embarrassed glance to the side and groan as she got up, popping her old spine. "We'll see what we can find deeper in, head back and let the clans know where to search if we don't return by nightfall."

The leaders of the squads nodded and the hunting party vanished in a large puff of green smoke. Stealth and Cami stretched and sheathed their weapons before similarly disappearing into the treetops and dashing across the shadows like they were one in the same.

-<🌀>-

Being allowed to keep the Earth Portal of Power for so long was almost as surprising as the cold constantly gathering about the peak of the distant, massive mountain city that showered over the Skylanders' Castle. The snow around the Water, Air, and Magic sections were swirling and dancing about the currents of slushy-like water, turbulence, and flow of concentrated magic. One segment's ice was slowly becoming covered in thin layers of snow that were just thick enough to obscure the difference between the relatively steady frost and soil and the slippery, glassy chill barely covering the smoothly running water.

Life was coated in snow and the leaves were laced with flakes, it got hard to tell the difference between the tip of the Earth segment and the Academy grounds. The Fire Element quickly became the most tolerable of the island; there was actually ground he could walk on like a normal person, without the worry of falling through a sea of unstable magic or being grabbed by the collar by a gust of arcane air, and it was hot enough to keep the snow from landing. It turned to water that hardly cooled the edges of the openly running lava, then became steam that outlined everyone's paths. Open flames cast clean white smoke to the sky, hardly wavering as snow fell on the large, ceremonial and traditional-looking braziers, torches, bonfires, and fire pits.

The air was full of snow and a harsh chill, but the Fire section's ground was sweltering. Wandering with shorts and his favorite hoodie was enough to keep George warm until the wind changed direction or he treaded near one of the steam walls lining the exposed lava. The wind chill shook his whole body and the steam stung his legs, but he didn't have the winter clothing to brave a part of the island with more stable weather. He knew the Water and Air and Undead Elemental segments were usually pretty cold through the grapevine, vice versa for the Fire's and Tech's plentiful furnaces and droning machines, Magic flopped back and forth all the time, and the Earth and Life Elements were subject to the whims of Eon's choice of hideout.

So Fire it was for George, the Undead duo, and a majority of the temperature-sensitive Cadets who'd yet to endure the intensive environmental training of their elder peers. At least the fluffier folk and Water Initiates were having a grand time. Hex and Roller Brawl were tiredly munching on some breakfast sandwiches while the animated artichoke, 'Food Fight', rooted himself into a slightly less ashy patch of loose soil. There was a wind-up robot, unironically named 'Wind-up', part of the girls' group, but he wasn't as bothered by the cold as he did some mechanical work on the Water side of the island.

Roller was wearing a tank top and had her normal, crescent-shaped prosthetics set aside against a rock. She had some light red marks around the tops of her absent knees where the straps wrapped painfully tightly around her thighs. Hex was wrestling with Skull to get one of her tomes back, quickly devolving into an argument about whose turn it was to drown in woodsy pages in the middle of a fiery hellscape. George took a bite of an egg and ham sandwich, much higher quality than he would've expected from what would be a school-provided breakfast in his world. Calling it 'his world' still wasn't something he was used to.

While his cast was gone, he still had an uncomfortable brace that needed frequent adjusting. Awkward with a sandwich in one hand. It got a chuckle out of the vampire. "I can't tell if that's hilarious, or I'm in the loopy phase of tired."

"Nightmares all around?" Hex broke away from Skull to add, immediately regretting giving the familiar the opening to ditch the tome on her lap and escape behind the Portal Master.

"About my brothers." Roller confirmed vaguely, giving no more details about what happened to them since she had excitedly brought them up in the library.

"Losing my sister." George joined the vampire in some uneasy solidarity.

"Malefor." The ghastly witch yawned and begrudgingly flipped open the spellbook.

"Who is that guy, anyway?" George finally asked, getting bewildered looks from both Undead and the plant in the background, and probably some in the back of his head. "Terrafin and Barbella talked about him a little bit, and Eon said he'd teach me about magic and Skylands when Spyro and I were healed. They said he was after the Core of Light, lived in some crypts, and Terrafin fought him in a place called 'Avalar' but we didn't go over any details."

Hex blinked. "Right, not from here." And pinched the bridge of her nose in exhausted irritation. "There used to be a list of Malefor's atrocities in the library, dating back to the time he appeared on the greater Skylands' scale. It gets updated every few months. Most of it is attacks on unarmed or poorly defended villages supplying greater Kingdoms, which did nothing to him but maintain their borders and demand fair trade prices, then sieged everything sitting on top of a valuable resource and enslaved the population. When the Mabu, Elves, Elementals, and whatnot died of being overworked, he reanimated them to be his Undead workforce and cannon fodder.

The zombies who were most recognizable were sent to the neighboring forts or the capitol, wherever the soldiers might recognise the people they were protecting the fight before. And after he loots everything worth taking, he runs the rest of the Undead into the ground until they're off to be ground into bone dust for easy necrosis weapon or resistance enchantments for his real soldiers. Rinse and repeat until the Skylanders are able to amass a big enough defense to postpone him for a few years to a decade."

George took a deep breath and swallowed dryly. "The library used to have a list?"

"It got too big for the shelves before we enrolled." The vampire added like it was nothing. "Master Eon keeps it in his office, now. Cadets are required to do a report on one of the kingdoms to prove they understand who we're fighting for and against."

"We redo it in some 'understanding cultures' lessons for each Elemental Studies class, 11 projects on his crimes in total. Same for Kaossandra." Hex confirmed.

"But your dream was about that freak specifically?" George finished his sandwich and leaned forward attentively.

Hex shrank and breathed. "...I wasn't always an Undead witch. I was a High Elf, the best Light witch in Skylands, and a threat to him... Join him, or die. We killed each other, but we both had fail-safe spells... His Dark powers took to Undeath a lot better than my Light. I might as well have not fought him. He's still at large and I can't even pass the Final Trials." She lamented.

"We'll get it eventually." Roller nudged Hex's side. "Besides, it'll never be a fair fight; nobody knows his weakness or if he has one." The vampire reached over to grab and rest her runner's legs on her half-lap. "He's got his bases covered by a ton of magic items, buffs, and enchanted armor. Nothing puts him down, believe me, the Skylanders tried. Knight Mare and Knight Light did everything they could to find something the Skylanders could use, only one of them came back alive."

"Where was Eon?" George exclaimed. "Aren't Portal Masters supposed to protect their Skylanders? Isn't that your little contract?" Heads started to turn.

"He's the reason Knight Mare escaped. He summoned them back to his tower." Roller protested.

"He should've been there in the first place!" George argued.

Roller Brawl glanced at the amassing swarm of Initiates ranging from Students to early-year Neophytes using the Fire isle for warmth. "He's done a lot for the Skylands, he's stopped so many people like Malefor." She hissed. "...At least keep your voice down."

He leaned closer in an obvious way so anyone nearby could see he wasn't dropping this. "That doesn't mean he gets to leave them to die."

"That doesn't mean he can be everywhere at once." She snapped.

"That doesn't mean he shouldn't have been ready for that." George argued further.

"All of us had a rough night." Hex interrupted and rubbed her eyes. "Just breathe, we can fight over this in the morning."

They leaned back and glanced at each other, then rested their heads in their palms. Both could feel the air grow thick and the other Students' tension rise as the Undead witch asserted herself. Some small chatter resumed, though it took a few minutes, but their group remained suffocatingly silent aside from the witch's book rustling whenever she turned an old and yellowish page. Even Skull was eerily quiet. Not having something to eat anymore didn't help, George couldn't exactly get service and she seemed to have forgotten her magical phone, so neither of them had anything to occupy themselves with. Roller kept tapping the metal anchor of her prosthetic; her claws kept clicking on the cylinder and the flexible crescent foot. I guess we can talk a little if she stops tapping.

"...I heard he put holes in Malefor's wings." Roller tiredly smirked.

Hex hummed. "It's the square tear between his middle wing bones on his right, can't miss it."

"Why do you know that off the top of your head?" George chuckled.

"Spite." Hex huffed and turned a page. "...I heard Eon cut one of his fingers off and hides it in the Relics Room."

"No, Chop Chop did it, Eon shielded him from the fire breath so he could but he carried it back through a portal. I think the white tree dude made it worse, zapped him in the paw with a Tech spell." Roller clarified.

Hex looked up from her book. "He always used Light, Life, and Dark magic."

"The story I heard was that he shot a beam of gold sparks and rays full of lines like circuits. Something about gold lines connecting glowing dots and making shapes, he turned some of them into clouds shaped like hands to hold Malefor's mouth shut so he could attack before he spat fire out the side of his mouth." The vampire shrugged.

"Sounds like constellations to me." George mumbled and fidgeted with the straps of his arm brace.

Both girls, the nearby artichoke, and the floating skull looked at the Earth Portal Master like he'd grown a second head. "Consta-whatnow?"

-<🌀>-

The new house shook as the Lava Elemental stomped inside. He hadn't bothered with Hugo, yet, the Mabu and Master Eon would still have some post-graduation papers to complete. He could wait a week while he and the team got used to the new house. All the pots, pans, trays, silverware, and other utensils were as close to their spots in their old quarters as they could be. The kitchen island was bigger, much like the actual island, so the containers and extra burner space made positioning them identically a challenge. Yet it looked like someone took the time to mathematically find the exact coordinates.

Each counter was the same, the containers for all his favorite tolls displaced precisely where they would've been in the smaller apartments they'd crammed themselves into before. The L-shaped counters and the drawers beneath them were slightly larger, there being one extra set of doors beneath them he'd yet to check or decide what would live there, and they had another microwave and some extra burners on every stove, it didn't stop the culprit from putting an absurd amount of effort to leave everything right where it was before they moved in; A culprit who should've been resting a forearm fractured by Darkness, he might add.

Did Spyro do chores when he was molting? He grunted and lightly adjusted the stands to be closer to where he'd prepare their meals. Whatever work the dragon did remained unclear; he cleaned the house, bought groceries, and took care of the essentials, all of which he felt he had to do behind their backs. Spyro never took sick days, and he hadn't done great in biology; inorganic creatures were where Eruptor shone ahead of the class. It was hard to say how often the reptile molted vs how often he got sick, disease was another disconnected concept to the Lava Elemental but he was pretty certain dragons weren't afflicted as regularly as Spyro. He hardly missed multiple days a week, or every other week, but there was no way he got sick that often. What in the Crypts did that dragon do during his days off? And how many times was he working or bedridden while they in class?

What wasn't he telling them? No need to be suspicious, he has his own life and reasons.

A fancy door swung open and the dragon in question soared down from the top floors. Each of their rooms had an unused area beneath that they still had to figure out a use for, save for the pool room. He knew one would be a training area Elfie overused and the other was up to the team tomorrow. As far as he knew, Stealth Elf was delayed a day by a storm and was going to be pissed when she got home and buried herself in bed.

"Hey, Eruptor!" Spyro glided to the floor surprisingly quietly. He landed on three legs with barely a thud, all three paws hitting the tiles in sync. His face appeared bright but his eyes were heavy and bloodshot with exhaustion.

Had he slept at all? "Are you okay?"

Spyro blinked and shuddered like someone had flicked his snout. "What?"

"Your eyes are red." Eruptor finished adjusting all the utensils.

He lifted a paw to his face as if he were expecting a mirror or could feel the blood filling his cold eyes. "Okay, I didn't sleep great." He shrugged and hopped onto the new counter on the tips of his wings. It was still unclear where he learned it from, but the dragon had taken to it quickly. "New house and all that."

"Making creaky noises at night?" He joked.

"The wind whistles against one of the walls right outside my room. I think one of the gutters might be angled enough to catch it. I'll fix it eventually." Spyro waved it off. "How was your visit?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Eruptor admitted. "Or do anything today."

Spyro swallowed. "That bad? Okay." The dragon jumped off the counter. "I'll let you put your stuff away." He pounced out of the house. Since Eruptor wasn't in the mood for anything and wouldn't be drowning out the suffocating silence, and he had another day before he could train, he was headed for the library. His copies of the original set were tucked away in his room and he'd spent a ton of sleepless time reading and rereading the biggest of them, but it'd be a lot easier to find the more advanced and specialised tomes now that the morning light was gleaming across the Academy. The Elemental Paragon wasn't sure which direction he'd take these rituals, but having all the tools in one place was always something to be desired.

Alas, the cold of the nearby mountain was getting to everyone. The weather brought the frost right into their homes and wafted it about the entirety of the island. Snow reflected the power of the Core into the sky, blinding him as he glided to the rooftops. He needed a minute to adjust at the top of the lightly snow-coated tiles and stones before figuring out exactly where he was. Trees appeared to be glowing and puffs of frost flew all around the Air and Magic sections; the latter was his next target. Their books would be a lot better, hopefully the arcane tides were warmer than the rest of the isle.

Other than a large gathering of Initiates at the foot of the Fire isle and some more experienced Skylanders patrolling the Castle, all was empty and calm. As silently as he could, just in case Master Eon was nearby, he kicked off the roof and soared through the walls and towers and hovering gems. The rushing surge of magic making up his Element's disconnected suggestions of landmasses constantly summoned, dispelled, and remade at the whims of Magic was rippling and wavering with activity, especially today. It looked like a bunch of spikes rising out of the concentrated mass of power, unable to decide if they were made of flames or liquid.

The shifting buildings were smaller than usual and the crystals studding the iridescent, though mostly pink, sea were atypically small and dispersed like gravel. One of the purple cobblestone structures was vanishing before his eyes, becoming replaced by a wider and shorter building lined with silvery arches and stained glass windows with no particular patterns. By necessity, the library was a lot more stable than the rest. The shelves didn't change what side of the building they were on as often, although everyone in every Magic Studies class shared the experience of looking up from their textbook to find they were multiple floors away from where they sat down, said floors usually only switched with adjacent levels or the next, and bookshelves were paired so similar subjects could be easily accessed.

He flew in through an open window, all of which were stained glass depicting legendary heroes of their Elements that swung open on reinforced hinges. The ruby red hood and pitch-black shade of Enigma's image was the one he flew through before diving through and around the shelving. The interior floor plan rarely lined up with the appearance of the library's outside, but never had the rooms where they were supposed to be when the building was designed. That, and being far larger on the inside, was a trick shared with the Air Element, making up for the severe lack of usable land both sections had to offer. At least Tech and Life could construct or grow their own isles or extra layers. Although Air didn't have to deal with swapping rooms.

Finding enhancement rituals took a couple of minutes, he hadn't been to those sections since fast-tracking his Advanced Magic Studies class in his first Protophyte year and the Rs weren't where they should've been, assuming the shelves were sorted alphabetically, but he figured it out eventually; there were certain 'tells' like the positioning and types of the torches, the colors of the glass spheres containing the magic crystals, whether those crystals were in the walls or floors or ceiling, the patterns in the tile or carpet floors, and the chendeliers were all used to navigate the library by those who knew what they were looking for.

It greatly exacerbated the whole 'bigger on the inside' and 'ever-shifting dimensional space' problems for those who had no idea where they were and what they were doing, but the Portal Master's solution was as simple as it was effective: make it a training exercise. He and Drobot were part of the same group when the class was assigned to camp in the library for a while. His mechanical wings and chest cavity wouldn't stop clicking for the whole labyrinth-navigating project, it made focusing on their surroundings and taking notes on the admittedly inconsistent and unreliable list of landmarks a waking nightmare. Of course, the artificial dragon was happy to digitally document everything they needed the entire time, almost as much as he was to remind Spyro and the other, now flunked-out Cadets at every opportunity.

But that was fine, the cyborg was out of his frill and he doubted he'd have to put up with him when Elfie and Eruptor were by his side. Drobot didn't have all the tricks, anyway, he never gave Spyro's Element the time of day because of Tech's natural advantage. He didn't put in the extra effort to put together the building's puzzles. Once Spyro had gathered the books he was interested in, containing all sorts of complex and powerful sigils for uniquely designed and experimental spell circles that even some experienced Skylanders could struggle with, he stuffed them under an arm and into the crooks of his wings while wandering the halls.

There was a particular pattern of torches and crystals he was looking for. Each was a slightly different but extremely specific size, shape, and place on the walls, the ceiling being featureless lavender was also important, and there was a pair of crescent-shaped shelves about a cuboidal one with a bronze lining. When you were there, you needed to walk at the cube shelf through the crescents at a certain angle and turn your head back while walking clockwise around it. He wasn't sure if you could look away from the rounded shelves after you passed the point where the opening between the crescents should've been, he never tested it.

Once he circled the cube shelf a few times, the opening appeared, leading out to a decent-sized space full of beanbag chairs. It was dead silent, even for a library, lined with a silencing spell and right beneath a glass roof of which only one black panel could be seen through from the outside; one of many small hints to secret spots scattered about the library. There might have been some secrets he hadn't found yet, but he'd been here many nights and sifted through every corner of this library. The pile of books landed with a thud that the dragon was very familiar with, the muted creak of the short tables. Sound didn't carry much here, it was as good of a study spot as it was hard to locate.

The hint for this one, Spyro recalled, was a carving on the archway right behind the entrance desk. It was the same pale pink as the rest of the stone, high enough to be out of sight, and the etchings were very shallow so it could only faintly be seen by its shadow at a certain time of day. Nothing but a square between some brackets with an arrow moving between them and a drawing of an eye next to one of the parentheses; there were a lot of similar-looking spots, too, but this was the only one that lead anywhere.

In the silence, he lightly flicked pages. His chosen beanbag barely made a sound as he sank into the bright red fabric and the stuffing molded around his orange, painted spinal ridges. This quiet, this everpresent muffling, was nice. It wasn't the result of there being nobody around, it wasn't the result of being left behind because he was nothing beyond the Skylanders, it was a simple day to himself; nothing happened here, few noticed the vague hint, even fewer had deduced which area it connected to, and Master Eon never came here. With most people on the other side of the Skylanders' island and the quiet enchantments, it was as silent as the grave. Not even flying birds far overhead or the changing of the clouds disturbed him as a thin layer of snow settled overhead.

And being here was his choice, his doing. There wasn't supposed to be background noise, there wasn't supposed to be the stomping of a Lava Elemental, there wasn't supposed to be the clattering of brushes and bottles of paint or watercolor platters coming from the ninja's room. All he was getting was pure quiet, but in a library, that was fine, and there was no better quiet than here. Unbothered, uninterrupted, undisturbed; just him and a stack of interesting books he wasn't worried about copying yet.

Chapter Text

"Okay, I swear I'm trying but I'm not an artist." George insisted while pathetically trying to draw perfect circles.

A lot of the future Skylanders, and some current or former ones in the form of active duty and retired teachers, were crowded into the Fire gymnasium before a random blackboard that'd been wheeled in from another section, all staring at the horrible approximations of circles and dots made of barely color-coded chalk full of off-color marks he hadn't caught until he was done struggling with that portion of the solar system diagram. Their impromptu professor, reduced to a pathetic wet cat of a human being, was fighting with a too-big stick of pink chalk he initially thought was red to make a spot on a bad Jupiter.

"It's got this forever storm thing going on, I don't know why it's red. I think it has a ton of moons, too, but don't quote me on that; that might be another planet, I fell asleep in that class." He tried to explain while guestimating how big the dot should be on a suddenly pear-shaped gas giant. Using the same chalk he used for detailing orbits wasn't helping his case; the line going through the pear shifted how big the spot appeared.

"Maybe Saturn's the one with a ton of moons?" Someone took pity on the Portal Master who'd yet to make a portal.

"No, Saturn's the one with rings." He corrected and double-checked his work. It almost looked good as long as nobody questioned the scale.

Speaking of which. "How much bigger is Jupiter than your world?"

"I don't know, but the first four are a lot smaller than the last. Most planets get bigger the further away they get from the Sun." George explained again while internally cursing himself, finally realising he'd been using the slightly wrong colored chalk for one of the orbit lines.

"I thought Pluto wasn't a planet?" Roller Brawl raised a hand.

George sneered and leaned toward the side of the board with the tiny dot set on the oval-shaped orbit that accidentally crossed through the orbits of several other planets. "He's a planet to me!"

The vampire snorted and held a hand in front of her mouth while Hex raised her hand. "And you think balls of gas made the patterns in Umbra-Sol's magic."

"Kinda." He shrugged. "The lines are all imaginary; it's more like playing connect-the-dots than following a path. I dunno how it would translate to magic, either, I'm just spitballing."

"And do they have any sort of meanings or myths associated with them? That might tell us what his spells did." Hex opened a massive can of astrology and zodiac worms he didn't understand or know how to close right in front of them. I just wanted to check on the cool dragon.

-<🌀>-

There was a wide, flat island surrounded by some long streams of floating boulders and a few other, decently rocky isles. Cynder brought her down to the center of the main island, carefully spinning in a wide circle about the perimeter to reduce her momentum before allowing her to step off. Eugenie's boots sank a tiny bit into the ground. The gravel was extremely fine and the wind, while stale and uncomfortably cold, was at least breathable compared to the dead space she'd been trying to accustom herself to.

Cynder trotted to the other end of the island, just a few feet from the Portal Master. Like a cat, her front paws slid over the soft and deathly gray sand, her shiny claws lifted off the top layer, and her wings flared like sails. The spikes along her spine clicked and shifted, flowing along a perfect line as she twisted and turned to face the Human. The six-pointed star symbol on her right upper arm flashed dim cyan like her reptilian eyes and whistled with a light breeze like ghastly wind through a graveyard.

"Air is the Element of Freedom." She started, rearing on her hind legs and the tips of her wings so she could freely roll her shoulders and stretch more. "It's all about freedom of movement, evasion, and redirection, but you knew that.

What you aren't getting through your head, is never to evoke or summon powers your can't support and banish."

"I didn't think it'd be a big deal." Eugenie insisted while holding one of her arms and fiddling with the edge of a cloak.

"Nothing get in or out of the Cadaverous Crypts and nearby Undead areas without my Dad knowing, and he's not going to let word of a Portal Master get out, it's too risky; Kaossandra the Corruptor, her son, Troll General Disaster, all their armies, Count Moneybone, and especially the Skylanders are gonna be up in arms if anyone learns about you. Everyone from Kings and Queens to pirate captains and Orc Warbands will charge out of every part of Skylands." Cynder casually explained all the different flavors of dead Jenny could be. "You're not going anywhere until you can look after yourself."

Out of nowhere, the black dragoness lunged. Her tail and back contracted like a striking snake and her legs tightly wound up, pulling her to the gravelly floor before extending as if her entire body was an industrial spring. The razor-sharp tips of her wings burrowed into the lifeless gray sand like a pair of massive meat hooks, then snapped flat to the ground the instant she pounced. Powder flew like smoke from a detonated grenade as the dragon approached far faster than Eugenie's reaction time could dream of countering.

And just as fast as she started, while the Portal Master's brain was just barely sending the instinctual message to her crossed arms to cover her face, Cynder stopped. Dust got in her eyes and mouth. Her throat burned and nose itched while she stumbled away from the reptile, almost falling over while waving away the thick plume of gravel and continuing to try and protect her face from the flurry of platinum claws and metal fangs. Cynder was sitting with big eyes and faux innocence like a dog awaiting a treat directly in front of where Eugenie was just standing; she could see the imprints of her shoes through the clearing cloud of dust, an impossible violation of momentum physics.

"Like I said, one of the most important lessons for any summoner, especially Portal Masters, is never to use powers you can't banish and you need to stop tempting fate if you can't handle what Skylands sends your way." Cynder shook her head like a hound shaking off rainwater. "If you really wanna be free, then you gotta get used to that. That's why we're learning about Momentum Cancelling."

"So we're stopping on a dime?" Eugenie guessed.

"With magic." Cynder made forcefully enthusiastic jazz hands. "It's a lot easier for Air magic than psionics. See, mind magic is based all on your imagination and concept of the world around you, or the way you can interpret it, psionics are no different; trying to rationalise abstract concepts like motion in a way you can interact with is as tough as shapeless stuff you can't see, like gasses-"

"-Or Air in general." Eugenie finished.

"-Exactly. Working with water's only slightly easier, since you can see it, but that's very relative. But Air revolves all around this, Water works the same way, this kind of thing is in your nature; you'll get the hang of it a lot faster than I did."

Cynder opened her wings and the symbols on her head blinked with pink and violet light. Her talons glowed and her horns hummed by force of will. The metal spikes all over her body glowed and trilled like the hair along a cat's spine standing on end as it arched its back and hissed. Some dust and small pebbles tried to follow her into the air like gravity was weakening. How does gravity work in an infinite plane of sky? The red membrane of her wings gained a brush of pink and her irises swirled cyan and pink.

"I can only Momentum Cancel relative to other objects near me." She wobbled back and forth by example, pointing to some of the pebbles floating around her. "Depending on my frame of reference, I can go faster or slow down easier." With a flick of her claw, she plucked a couple of the distant boulders closer to the island and rushed towards it with a flap of her wings, both the rocks and her body freezing right before they collided. "The more points I compare my position to, the more stable I can be. You're gonna do the same for a warmup."

They played with rocks for a few minutes. A gust of air pushed Eugenie along and blew against the rocks the dragoness was levitating around the edges of the island. She was significantly less elegant than the dragon, but she gradually got the hang of suddenly speeding up and slowing down after falling and rolling a few times. Her clothes were covered in big splotches of ashy gray and her side already ached, but it wasn't the worst way sprinting around the edges of a completely adrift isle like the inverse of running around a pool could've ended.

"Swirling wind around you is the best way to go, then flare it out when you want to stop." Cynder recommended while copying Eugenie's movements with a lot more grace and experience.

For most of the day, the pair went back and forth across the plot of land. Needing to reset the whirlwind coiling along her limbs and flowing over her chest every single time she tried to stop was quickly getting irritating, but she was getting used to it with every failure. Every time she needed to rebuild the hurricane-like haze, she got a little faster at doing it again; every time she expelled it to cease all motion simultaneously, she continued sliding for a slightly smaller distance; every time she lost her poor balance, she fell slightly softer. And whenever she came to a hard stop or hit a particularly sharp turn that should've had her organs all shifting to one side of her body, she barely noticed the G forces.

"We're just gonna do that for a few days, then we'll put together a Wind Aura, and then... I dunno, just don't add or subtract the population, Undead are annoying to put in the dirt after they're raised." Cynder shrugged, oblivious to how different that sounded to someone from Earth.

"What if I wanted to add..." She did some quick mental math based on body weight. "-around twelve percent of a body to the Undead?" She made a so-so gesture with a her left hand and played with a tiny tornado with the other. Messing around with magic had become her favorite way to pass the time.

Cynder blinked. "Well, now I have to know where this is going." She smirked and slithered to Eugenie's side.

The Portal Master spun her hand and extended the small tornado, then lightly clenched her fist to draw the clockwise-spinning turbulence down her arm. It expanded as she unfurled her thumb towards Cynder, then retightened into an oval cylinder around her form. Streaks of white and light gray wind slowly phased through her arm as she concentrated on her skeletal anatomy; the feeling of the cold and the motion moved through her veins and between her forearm bones, though she couldn't find it uncomfortable. A ball like a knot formed at the joint with a streak of air tying it around her elbow, many more appeared as she twisted her hand so the strings could attach, it made the hand take much better shape than when she was only creating it with her mind and Soul, much more grounded in realspace.

Although the same didn't happen up at her shoulder, it didn't need to. The funnel opened up by her hair and made several lochs levitate right beside her face. They didn't blow around wildly, but moved smoothly and constantly with the direction of the winds, pulling along her cheek and curling clockwise with the air like it was a disgustingly thick loop of gel. Her eyes and the side of her face felt cold with the motions of the tornado and the light gray clouded her vision, yet she could see the dragoness just fine.

"Nice." Cynder remarked and hummed. "Casting something in gold would do you better, have the blacksmiths make a mold from some bones and sprinkle bone dust in when it's molten; you can see what symbols to wanna scratch on 'em later. You'll need to get used to full skeletons before you try to focus on something like this, it'll take a lot of fine-tuning to make it work the way you want."

"Where am I gonna get all that gold?" Eugenie absorbed the funnel back into her body, streaks of air flowed in and out of her nostrils like she was breathing constantly instead of taking breaths and a cyclone developed around her side and arm, dragging her hair back to normal rather than yanking it into an open top.

"Just tell people you won't send them in or out of Undead lands, then you'll be fine." She turned and instantly whipped back around to Eugenie, grabbing her by the shoulder and functionally holding her at knifepoint with a talon beneath her throat. "And come to me before you try casting any rituals on yourself or using an enchanted item."

The Human awkwardly gave her a thumbs-up before she started wandering away again. "A-About that!"

-<🌀>-

"Honestly, I'm just impressed nobody got to this thing first." Cynder stared dumbfounded at the old ship.

"I mean, it felt like something was leaking out of it so I... kinda... followed it? But it only works without my cloak." She shrugged.

"Detect Magic, you must have a talent for it." Cynder explained while ascending the pile of scrap and perching on the ship's deck so she could stare into the top of the crack in the hull. "I think you found a functional Sky Core. I figured odds were one of these slipped through the cracks, but I never took it seriously."

"What does it do?" She flung herself up the pile and slipped into the shattered shell. They treaded over the stray, ancient, scaly weapons and around the remnants of extremely old emblems bleached by sunlight in a world without a source of light, the concept of which was still driving her up the wall.

Cynder grabbed one of the weapons, a scimitar covered in pale red scales, and stared into the tarnished blade lining as she shifted it along her talons. "Most sky ships use blimps and some enchantments to get moving. Sky Cores are a few dozen steps up, crosses between engines, generators, and ties to the Skylands. Superchargers- uh, vehicles that can jump through time and space, are the only things that top them. Extra power sources are more efficient when you add them to a Sky Core and they can almost drive a hunk of wood alone; you just need a wheel. There's something about them that lets you store things like sails and other engines inside but I don't know the details."

"Do you know where to get them? I wanna be a sky pirate!" Jenny smiled right before tripping over the giant lance and shield, getting a laugh from her friend as she scrambled to stop her fall with a gust of wind, used way too much force, and almost threw herself forward on her glowing red face.

"Oh, sure, just go for the S sections in any Library, I just never looked into them because I've got wings. You can make them faster than an average dragon, but I'm built for speed so I haven't tried them. It's better to use them for easy freight, anyway. Storing things in Sky Cores cuts down their weight." She shrugged while walking on her wings to the back of the ship.

The Sky Core, abandoned for who knows how long, still tried to hiss and pulse with magic long after its supporting power cells and other, stranger mechanical parts with no obvious purpose had stopped functioning. "And why could I only find it when I took my cloak off?" Eugenie pressed.

Cynder stabbed into the rusted shell with the sword like a lever and started forcing it open. "Protection, no telling what might be after you. It's not supposed to go the other way but that's the kind of quality you get with free merch." She chuckled, still not looking Jenny in the eye as the canister popped open.

A burst of light blue light and puffs of clouds filled to the breaking point with static washed out of the container. "Basically, they're a bunch of high-end Elemental crystals and gems melded into one core. Not just Air, but subcategories, too. A bit of lightning, a ton of rain, all sorts of stuff. How they're made has a lot of important steps missing, and it differs depending on what Element you wanna make, so most of them are the same Sky Cores being reused over and over."

"So they're really rare." Eugenie confirmed while trying to catch a glimpse at the amalgamated relic, she could feel the raw power fuming free from their confines.

Cynder shrugged again and casually punched the cylinder's door, snapping it open with an ear-piercing screech she barely reacted to. "Not exactly, but you can guess why they're kept so close. The Frost Elf Kingdom and multiple Life Elemental civilisations have giant warships that use multiple of 'em, but they don't use them because it's so hard to replace their Sky Cores if they ever fail."

"So a bunch of million gold set dressing?" She added. There were massive warships throughout history that never got used because of how expensive they were to create, but at least they were technically mass-produceable. How would that work if their engines simply couldn't be created anymore?

"Pretty much. You've got a handful of upper-class guys like the Doom Raiders and Skylanders who have their own lairs running on Sky Cores, but not a lot of full-fledged Kingdoms have the guts to use them for offense. If you want to make an island move, Sky Cores are the way, but good luck." Cynder explained and psychically extracted the artifact: a massive gem so pure and crystalline that they could see the corroded machinery on the other side and how not a single spot of rust clung to its perfectly polished surface as gold-lined piping and wiring popped off. Smaller shards of their other components crackled with electricity, released clear white clouds, crackled with stormclouds, spun in isolated waterspouts, and trickled spectral water.

"And I just found one..." Eugenie's eyes were wide as she reached out to the relic, its surface was soothingly cold to touch and shimmered as her fingertips partially merged with the impossibly glassy gem, her skin and muscle and bone fading into tightly wound columns of the morning sky and dew. Streaks of cyan light crawled along her arm like a curious cat investigating her. The windy effect over her skin stopped at her wrist but shifted with the motions of the massive amount of magical power going along her limb. Her hair lifted and clothes billowed with gusts like a gentle breeze.

Cynder, not remotely surprised by the artifact and Portal Master connecting, helped drive apart the steel ship so they could move the center of the Sky Core away from the unstable wreckage and wherever Eugenie left her cloak. She made it clear that there was still a lot of use left in the draconic ship, especially by grinding up the ancient dragon scales, but it was hard to tell if the Portal Master was listening. That was fine, it was better to wait on this conversation when she was fully focused on the Sky Core. She wasn't the one with Malefor watching; she could play with her powers a while longer.

"Don't have too much fun, we don't need a storm showing up in an island full of metal spires." Cynder chuckled as the Human playfully placed and removed her hands from the Air relic.

Eugenie stopped for a second to process Cynder's words. "I can do that?"

"Kinda, you can make the Air around you do it." She rolled up into a tight coil in a nest of gears. "Especially if they get older, Portal Masters are basically living rifts. All your power, your ability to create portals and take power from them, that's how the majority of your abilities function. How that works, it's not clear, but it lets you draw more of the magic around you into your body than a peer, that's why self-sacrifice spells are stronger when they're used by a Portal Master."

For some reason, Eugenie paused. "Huh?"

"Every form of magic has some spell that can pack a way bigger punch than the Skylands can handle. The catch is they require you to burn your spirit in some way, literally for Fire." She waved off.

"And Portal Masters are just better at that!?" The blood drained from her face and the Sky Core unstably thrummed with her erraticism.

"By making the spells bigger for the same health cost, yeah?" Cynder shrugged and cocked her head to the side. What was the big deal?

"And that doesn't sound a little messed up to you!?" She stood and argued. The Sky Core rose and tilted like she was a living, massive upward draft.

Cynder blinked blankly, then her eyes widened and she pinched her snout as it clicked. "Right, not Undead."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Eugenie yelped.

"We're Undead, death doesn't mean much to us." The dragoness sighed. "Undead is the Element of Sacrifice. It's as much a magic thing as it is a culture thing, we're the freaks under everyone's beds and in their closets. Any rituals and spells can be stronger with a heavier cost, adding Undead magic makes it more efficient." Cynder did a double-take. "Wait, you've seen us, most of us are walking corpses and this gets you up in arms?"

"You're still living people!" She defended.

"We're literally not." She deadpanned.

"You know what I mean."

"Hasn't stopped me yet."

"WHY YOU-"

Eugenie blew a gust of wind into Cynder's face, earning herself a haze of static, making her hair stand on end right before the reptile and Human devolved into a senseless chase spotted by fits of chest-rattling laughter at each other's expense. Cynder repeatedly ducked behind deceptively sturdy piles of rubble and broke line of sight behind rotting ships, Eugenie used clouds of debris and flung gears around to redirect the small zaps coming for her hairline.

-<🌀>-

His measly attempts to explain the Solar System didn't end in the couple of days after getting his arm brace removed. In the middle of the Arena, with Hex and Roller Brawl's team beside him, sweat dripped down his face as he did some stretches and pushups, waiting for the Portal Master to show up.

"So you can only get there with special suits, but you still spend millions of your money to go there without knowing what's on your own 'planet' thingamabob?" The animated artichoke asked.

"Basically." George's nod shook a bead of sweat off his nose.

"Even though some guys already brought samples back and there's basically no point to going there besides bragging rights? Even though the 'space race' is over and you won?" He audibly judged.

"I mean, there's a lot of research going on, but that's the jist as far as I know." He got up and clapped the sand off his palms.

Hex was sitting on her knees and Rolloer was criss-cross as they smirked and chuckled. Skull was floating before a tome similar to the one in Hex's hands. That clockwork robot was boredly watching Food Fight as he ran around, shooting tomatoes in the air and catching them on the way down. Two of them, at least, were quietly and tiredly hanging out with the Human after dragging the rest of their team down with them.

The wizard appeared in a flash of pure white and light blue rays, crackling down into the center of the arena from the peak of his tower. Dressed in the same light blue robes and Element-themed sash, he walked forward with a calm smile. The Aspirants nodded their heads in mock bows, Eon happily returned the gesture and greeted George.

"Young Portal Master, I believe I owe you a lesson." He revealed his arms from behind his back, they sparked with cyan magic that dispersed into other colors as the lightning grew further from his fingertips. Ten symbols, the Elements, appeared like mirages, burning and shaking and sparkling. "I believe you're already familiar with the Elements."

"Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Magic, Tech, Life, Undead. Light and Dark are their own thing off to the side and the only ones I can keep track of the strengths and weaknesses of." He listed off.

Eon brought the golden Light and shimmering black Dark illusory icons between the two Portal Masters. "Which are?"

"Both Elements hit the other harder than the rest, everything else has a bunch of pros and cons against each other." He answered.

The wizard smiled and banished the illusions. "Understanding your own element is the most important first step. Earth is the Element of Resolve and is well known for its strong defensive spells, but don't let that make you think it can't be a strong offensive or utility tool."

Both spellcasters lowered their hands to the ground, making ripples in the sand as they summoned boulders. Eon was able to draw up a few more than George, but he'd gotten a few more than he could manage at one time when fighting Kaos.

"You need to understand the makeup of the material you work with, the strength of the earth and what it's made of beyond dirt and stone." Eon explained and made the rocks rotate out of his way. "Earth functions better on straight lines than curves. Try to maneuver your attacks with hard angles before curves and make your portals face the same direction, or at a 90-degree angle."

"I haven't made any portals yet." George pointed out.

"But you've begun Warp Dashing." Eon stated and pointed across the Arena. "Rather than send yourself to a point, choose two spots and connect them." Two rocks floated out to either end of the sand. "Use the same concept to connect these two boulders.

It was like a slingshot, at least for him. George focused on spaces right next to the rocks like sci-fi shows' diagrams of wormholes. Every line was an elastic strap throwing him into the fray. He attached them to the end of the twirling boulders, slingshots with infinite strands, tightened the elastic straps, and released. The portal only appeared for a split second, but it did appear in a pop of bright orange sand and spectral rocks that turned to dust and scattered on the wind the second it collapsed, but he'd made a small portal. He tried a few more times to figure out the 'keeping it there' part, the rifts vanishing as soon as they appeared, before Eon stepped in again.

"When you want to move normally, you don't simply teleport, you have to walk; think of either side of your portal as the end of a hallway, visualise the line between them, then walk your rift through it." Eon advised.

George's fists clenched as he lifted one like he was pulling the points together. Each spot glowed with orange light and a mixture of impossibly fine sand and brown pebbles manifested from nothing, they made some piles beneath the fractures but most of the matter, matter he created from nothing, matter that existed because he broke the laws of physics, but most of it kept glowing and swirling around his rifts. The boulders trembled like they alone were quaking and tremors shivered through the Arena, making Eon and the Aspirants' feet and prosthetic legs start sinking into the ground, but not George. He was steady while the Undead witch and vampire had to get off their knees and rapidly put on their runners' legs before sand got in their shorts.

"Look at the faces of your portals like clocks." Eon stepped closer and rested a patient hand on his shoulder. "Spinning their energy clockwise is best for very long-distance portals, keep them moving the same direction for now and switch the spiral for a more stable link."

The sands shifted and pebbles flew as he tried to change the rifts' directions, eventually settling for closing and reopening them like he was turning a computer off and on. He opened his hand when the portals snapped together. The tension in the infinite slingshots was released, now he was making more connections directly across the bridge between them. It flickered as he tried walking along from one end to the other but widened and intensified the tremors when he tried meeting both ends in the middle. It felt like something clicked when either end met, like a dam breaking open and a slid of sand singing as it flowed through the opening in reality, then clicked again as Eon brought the two rocks together and thudded within the portal's bounds.

Roller Brawl cheered and swept George into a hug, quickly regretting it as his sweat stuck their clothes together but not stopping. Hex more calmly smiled and clapped while Skull did a twirl and landed in George's hair. The glassy aura protecting him was cold like the vampire's hands. Food Fight and Wind-Up blinked and a flying tomato landed on the artichoke's head as they joined the clapping. Eon clasped his hands together with a bright smile, again pleased like the first time Spyro shot a fireball, and let them revel in George's first portal before continuing.

-<🌀>-

The Portal Master's study was silent, save for the light breeze Eon allowed through the magic shields protecting his delicate papers and ancient books. Half of them looked like they'd crumble to dust in his pearl claws if they weren't enchanted. His horns cut through the air with a whistle as he double and triple and quadruple checked the area, despite knowing Master Eon was training his replacement, never know who didn't get the memo and would come through those doors at any second. Hugo was an option, but the Mabu said he was working with a new patient and needed extra time to get their file sorted, he wouldn't be spending any more time here than he had to. That guy needs his own office.

It was fine, though. Nobody was here and he was soon to make sure the Portal Master needed him. George wouldn't render Spyro obsolete so easily. More time was wasted on finding all the spare Eon stuffs he could find, mostly beard hairs, but the days since getting his cast and arm brace removed weren't spent lightly. Through sleepless nights and poring over copied textbooks and scrolls with the constant images of being turned away flashing in his mind, Spyro had amassed an abomination of white hair tied together by loose cyan threads. It wasn't pretty and a lot of the task was spent comparing the gross creation to his memory of Kaos's even more disgusting 'beard-cicle' between being penpals with Stealth Elf, but it should be effective enough not to trigger any hidden alarms.

The bust of Eon's head opened with a grind and click, the red gem scanned the mass of hair, and the set of steel doors slid open silently. The only other noise in the entire study was the flap of his amber wings as he soared down to the vault. Magic weapons oozed with power at every end and gold coins clinked together as his paws crushed them. Weaponry was one thing, but the really dangerous stuff was better hidden, a trait he figured would be shared with the map to the Core of Light. Maybe Eon tucked it in a corner because it wasn't inherently magical or explosive.

His mouth filled with flames as he paced around the bricks and stepped over gold coins. The flickering light shone off the metals and faded around the dull rocks, shining on secret etchings and long-lost emblems mixed with red herrinng wear and tear in the stoneworks, but he'd gotten used to spotting the Academy's secrets. The map to the Core was especially littered in markings that needed to be seen in a special light, light that Spyro's fire only shone a ninth of, meaning anyone who found it had some puzzle solving to do if they wanted to find the heart of Skylands.

Meaning Kaos may not have found all the details he needed to decode the map.

Spyro scoffed at the Dark Lord's misfortune as he pressed a paw to the map, making lines of violet and pink shine along the plaque. Magic and fire, he had two parts to the map, the rest must've been the other Elements and Light, no Dark. Eon probably built the rest of the room with the same philosophy. He may or may not have been picking through some gold as he wandered, staring at the artifacts of old. One of them had to have what he needed, one of them had to be the right Element.

His heavy amber eyes landed on Krypt King's sword, the old weapon the Arkeyan Elite-inhabiting spirit wielded against Conquertrons before he became a Trap Master. While the Arkeyans were renowned for combining Magic and Tech, but that couldn't mean magic was excluded; Krypt King was still an Undead Skylander. The sword, its blade black as the Dark Portal Master's shadows and the hilt ordained in gold, hissed almost contentedly as he picked it up. Even in the ages past since its wielder so much as touched it, the will to fight and die remained deeply ingrained in the still-honed edge. A lot of powerful Undead weapons were like that, he'd read.

And no he didn't choose it because it was a big sword-

Orange fire reflected off the blade, shining along the bricks. Some of the light revealed the shadows of fiery markings, others were of Undead origins, both frequently overlapped each other in certain positions, and all were overlaid with the normal, non-magical etchings. The Undead symbols were ever so slightly more concentrated around a wall closer and to the left of the entrance, barely noticeable if not for one of the vaguely arrow-shaped fire symbols happening to draw his attention to them. While a challenge to read while using the reflection of the blade to reveal them beneath the reddish shadows of the fire symbols, he could make out a lot some of the words. He'd excelled with the Undead once he got over all the corpses and indifference to vitality.

'Dragon' and 'Ancient Wyrm' came up a lot, very promising, but sigils like 'Fate' and 'Fall' bore less obvious intent. Undead Ancient Dragon's Fate? Fated Fall? He strung the most prevalent symbols together. Puzzles that didn't give you all the pieces were the worst, he didn't have time for brute force. Brute force... Spyro hummed in thought. Eon put a massive amount of very powerful relics, from the original weapons of the Trap Team to JV's vac pack, completely unsupervised in here, yet the walls were fragile enough to have scratches and cracks?

No, this place was bursting with magic, the entire island was bursting with magic. He gently glided his claws across the wall and traced the markings, searching for a spot with fewer symbols in case this went wrong. There were probably symbols of other Elements hidden behind shadows and powers he didn't have, especially considering how many of the Undead and Fire marks didn't make sense without a lot of hidden context, but it was the best he could do with the absurd amount of magic writings covering ever inch of the Relics Room.

His iridescent claws lightly and experimentally slashed the bricks. Almost as soon as they carved shallow gashes into the rock, they started to repair themselves. The scratches and cracks in the bricks weren't damage, but hints. Spyro took another, much closer look at them and their shadows. Every shade cast by the uneven cuts of rock and lump in the cement could be hiding something. Some scratches, though they went past a wooden support and overlapped another set of scratches along another side, were mostly symmetrical. He followed the off-center midpoint up and down the wall.

Unsure if it was part of the puzzle he was trying to solve, he made different pictures in his mind of what the scars were depicting, then the shadows, then both, then the cracks, shifting which pictures he saw with every blink. The symmetrical marks made the mirage of grand wings full of spotty shadows in the lumps of the rock like holes in the membrane. None of the hints made the lines that ended the wings, but you could loosely see the bottoms of the membrane through the cutoffs of the normal and Undead shadows. There was a misshapen spot like a broken heart off to one side, encircled by Undead marks, while the other appeared alight with flames, a rotten heart and flame sack.

The hidden draconic figure was way too big for the wall, Spyro was only looking at the upper part of its body, and it was breathing a stream of Fire symbols down over the marks of its wings, making it especially hard to tell which ones were relevent to his purposes or parts of other puzzles slipped onto the board. The strings of barely sensible sentences end just above the baseboards, enough to be obvious. He shone his firelight at the jaws burning the symbols into the wall, watching the shadow grow off the back of the dragon's head. The gashes behind them extended like a thick mane or tall frill.

Or a series of long horns.

Ancient Undead Dragon with several massive horns.

He was in the right place.

'Fate' and 'Fallen' didn't elude him for long, now that he knew where his prize was hidden. Malefor may have been the Dark Master, but Master Eon wasn't about to invite Darkness into the same room as the map. He loved his light and Element puzzles, often using Undead spirit and deep Water symbols to represent Darkness in their stead, but there wasn't enough of the former or any of the latter for the puzzle to be referring to a living Malefor. Undead Malefor's fall: Hex's fight, they clashed with Light and Dark.

Spyro exhaled into his palm, igniting his talons before guiding the four candle-like flames down and resting them over the baseboards. Unsurprisingly, they were fireproofed, and the flames climbed up right through and along the puzzle's Fire symbols. Eon loved his light and Element puzzles. He glanced around the portions of the walls the puzzle covered, there was a curved shadow like an arm off to the other side. There weren't any scratches or lumps in the cobble that would've cast that shadow, he would've felt and seen them when tracing the Undead symbols. It was supposed to have a pair of shadowy limbs outstretched with their claws bared on top of the wings, now the rightmost one was angled down and in an awkward position.

The shape of a crescent with two daggers coming out of the middle appeared, and his flaming claws represented Hex in the puzzle, so the thumb was closer to him. The pinky, however, bent uncomfortably at an angle. While Master Eon held back Malefor's fire breath, Chop-Chop was the one to sever the dragon's middle talon, taking advantage of the uneven footing the massive tyrant was trying to curl around and into so he could rip apart the Skylander and Portal Master.

If he remembered the story right, which he did, it had Chop Chop and Master Eon in it, he managed to charge and squeeze into some rocks, braced his greatsword against his shield, bashed Malefor's pinky talon upwards with them, then carried the momentum into a circular strike on his middle talon. A massive Undead sword swung in a circle. He carefully guided Krypt King's blade into the shadow's middle knuckle. There was a diagonal line that the tip nicely slotted into before the rest of the blade slid and clicked into the wall. Despite being lodged in solid rock, he was able to effortlessly twist the blade whichever direction.

Movement was so smooth that he could even smack one of the guards and the sword would freely spin and spin, no clicking gears or internal latches that he could hear to figure out the next step. The sword was locked into the opening unless he returned it to the exact angle. Resistanceless and extremely precise, it probably used ball-bearing pulleys to keep quiet and smooth. He let it twirl each direction a few times, just to be sure the system reset, then returned it to the starting position and checked the stairs before reconsidering.

There was a painting of the fight somewhere, one that showed the downward angle the Arkeyan's blade was at just after hitting Malefor's pinky and before cutting off the talon, a copy of it was proudly presented in the Undead Island's library. Spyro twisted the sword, the end closest to him slightly below where it started, then turned it halfway around like the Elite, 'cutting off' the Dark Master's claw. The sword stayed in place for a second and something inside quietly slid and clicked.

The cobblestone parted and ground against one another. Thankfully, nobody was around to hear as the blocks moved inward and parted. On a marble pedestal, its top lined with shimmering rose gold and the side covered in moss, cradled by a nest of thick branches growing large, vibrant leaves casting a swirling green and purple-pink shield, sat his target.

Easily the Elemental Paragon's size, the quasi-mummified talon of the Dark Master was oppressed by a blinding pure white light casting down on the discolored scales and claw. Even with all the Light, Life, and Magic shining on the Undead and Dark souvenir, the small cavity was heavy with Sacrifice and Corruption. It was constricting Spyro's chest and froze his breath like he'd been petrified and his organs were filling with coarse gravel.

Malefor's scales, covered in ridges like a pebble thrown into a river from their base and spreading out to the scales' tips, had paled from dark purple, now almost pink. His claws were a dull orange, also paled under the intense Light holding it down. The scales were peeling off the dry, tight muscle clenching around the bone, covering it all save for the knuckle joint. The rotted muscle fibers around the base of the extended talon and around the tip of the bone looked like sickly gray hair.

The Undead sword phased out of the wall puzzle like it was water as Spyro treaded up to the talon, comparing the length of his tail spear to his snout to the finger. Malefor could pin him down and shatter his ribcage with just one paw. He rested the sword against the altar, his paw moved through the protective aura like it was nothing but a fishnet; it was meant to protect the Academy from the horrific magic aura, not keep people away.

Spyro spread his wings as he maneuvered the sword with one talon on the handle and another on the blade, proceeding to jab the edge under one of the scales and sawing some of the massive plates, dried veins, and mummy-like strips of muscle. He could run some of his blood through the veins and arteries to revitalise their magic, though he'd need some special machinery to pull it off. Buying one ran by his mind, there was often a difference between what was useful to an alchemist and what was easily preserved so the market was somewhere, but Cat's Eye Mountain specialised in magic items over potions. It'd be cheaper to assemble the parts himself, and he might as well use the Fire section's forges or commission Scratch at that point.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the muscle, yet, just that it had the same problem and similar solution. It would depend on what he used to restore it, he doubted a Skylander who hadn't even passed the Final Trials could get a vat of Malefor's blood. The scales and hide were the main things he was after, both able to be ground into magic power for any purpose. These would be his leg up on the Skylanders. Eon made a mistake when he showed Spyro the Book of Skylanders.

Then came the bones.

He knew he should've gotten some bone dust, though dragon bones of his size were no joke, but ones of Malefor's size and age? And an Undead one? Chop-Chop cleaved through the finger because he was precise enough to slash around the thinner scales and between the bones. Spyro didn't have the time or tools to grind down the Dark Master's skeleton. Somehow, though, they glinted. It wasn't the white of a bleached bone; it'd been protected well by the withered flesh. He carved faster and faster, getting into a pattern and gathering whatever he could on the way down to the skeleton.

They were riddled with gold, their surface covered in countless tiny arcane markings and spell circles about their circumferences that Spyro didn't recognise, not fully. And it all went down into the marrow, consuming it, being fueled by and replacing it. He scrambled for his phone and snapped several close-up pictures. He'd have the chance to research and decode them when there wasn't the risk of someone walking in on him. Until then or when he had something strong enough to snatch chips or dust, he retreated from the room. The cobble wall closed behind him and Krypt King's sword felt like it hummed in thanks for cutting through a great foe again as he returned it to its reverent stand.

With his dragon parts, the clump of Eon's hair, and many pictures and questions, Spyro shut the Relics Room behind him and fled. Next stop, the new house, then there were a lot of scrolls to make and Undead tomes to copy.

Chapter Text

"I still don't get the point of this. They know I'm safe, they know I'm just helping clean this curse up. What's the point of going back and forth?" Stealth asked a lot more casually than she would've earlier in the week.

The Grandmaster poured another cup of tea. She needed a lot of them recently. "Because your friends love to hear from you, Stealth. Keeping everything to a bunch of updates and teamwork is no way to live."

"I'm a Skylander, I live for Skylands. My whole life and Soul are for this." She gestured generally to the world.

"But you still have a life and Soul that need you to slow down." She insisted. "This is your only time to rest before you return to the Skylanders, there's no telling when your next break will be."

"After we fortify the Core of Light against Kaos." Elfie blinked.

Cami pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to narrow her eyes when she looked back up. "You don't know how long that'll take or what he's planning. You need to rest while you can because Eon won't spare any expense when the Eternal Elemental Sources are found."

Elfie slightly shrank, if only a little, but quickly stiffened like it was an order. Not what the Grandmaster wanted, but at least she was still for a minute. "Spyro wrote back about the curse, he asked if we'd tried something called 'Wizbit's Ice Theorem' and I still don't know what he's talking about."

"We'll figure it out later. Find a tree to climb and try to meditate." She sipped her fruity tea and took a seat across from the Skylander.

She didn't move and tightened her grip on the letter, the sides tore as Cami Flage suddenly yanked it out of her hands and quickly skimmed it. "You're asking Eon to let you stay?"

"Just until I can figure out what's wrong with the forest." She clarified.

Cami Flage leered into her pupilless eyes like she was memorizing the tiniest details of the veins in the grayish outline and light of the bright white center. "You want to find Master Ambush."

"What?" She blinked. "I could just go to his glade."

"But you're also avoiding him." Cami Flage added.

"Huh?"

"You never failed him, you just aren't a Knight, Stealth. There's nothing wrong with that." She set down her teacup and offered a small smile.

Stealth Elf blinked, then teleported away. The smoke made her pencil roll across the table, very sloppy. Unfortunately, Cami Flage had also found that quiet spot cradled by the branches at the top of their tree, something that almost got her punched in the face since her former apprentice was unaware. The Skylander was also quick enough to freeze her arm mid-swing, once she saw that her favorite little hiding spot hadn't been compromised... mostly.

"For two years I kept looking where you used to hide." Cami Flage chuckled fondly, looking downcast at the tiny impression of feet worn into some of the branches in a spot with a view of the forest. One could almost see Stealth's tree all the way from here. "I'm almost surprised you didn't flee to the village, your outfit doesn't stand out too much in the shadow clans."

The Forest Elf stepped back and lowered her fist, not realizing her entire arm was tensed like a primed industrial spring. "...I don't like being looked at..."

"Ah, that'll do it." She chuckled before catching herself. "I-It's a good instinct for a ninja to have."

Cami Flage raised a hand, then stopped. She wasn't a particularly touchy person until Whisper became her second chance, and that was by force. The only contact between her and Stealth had been especially brutal combat training; especially for a little girl. She pulled away and took a seat beside the worn-down spot with a wooden thud. Stealth Elf lowered herself on the other side completely silently. Even then, she wasn't really sitting as opposed to leaning against a natural bench. Though her arms were crossed, they were never more than a fraction of a second's motion away from her new blades. They'd seen a lot of fungus and plant zombie hunts in the short few days she'd been aiding her people.

"What are the other Forest Elves like?" She whispered like the name might summon her.

"What do you mean?"

"There weren't a lot of them at the Academy. The only Forest Elf Skylander I know of is Flame Slinger. I've never really met any of us outside of the ninja clans." Stealth Elf admitted.

"They're assholes." The Grandmaster, the woman everyone in the clans looked to for damn near everything, answered with no hesitation, making Stealth wince as her head snapped up right into a twig. "They've been that way ever since the War."

"The Drow's betrayal?" She rubbed the back of her head with obvious pain painted over her scarfed face.

"Mmhm." She nodded with a gravelly voice. "My Grandmother used to tell me all about it, have I ever told you that?" Stealth shook her head. "She and Dad went on and on about the War; she got on his case all the time, said he never got the stories right, bet her folks told her the same when she had him, and theirs. Dragons falling from the sky and crashing through the treetops, Drow using their secret passages against them and taking their civilians hostage, the way Master Eon and the Light Eater's duels shook the Skylands." The old woman reminisced sitting on her granny's lap, bouncing her up and down like she tried to replicate with Whisper and should've done for Stealth.

"She said flocks of Sky Barons and Troll airships would blot out the Core's light, the rest of the skies were full of Cuckoos and Geargolems, Wilikin and Cyclopses covered the ground and Gillmen and Walrus Pirates filled the seas. Plants drowned in the bloodshed and Undead had to dig up through the Mabus' bodies to hold the line against Greebles."

"Spyro likes that story... says it's 'the Undead spirit', he thinks all those skeleton warriors and Driders were legends." Stealth added, her voice was a little softer than normal.

"Good, they were. The Light Eater, Malefor, Nefarion's spirit, they all thought the Undead would fall in line or stay out of it, especially because they focused on the Life Element, first. Cut out the best healers, then to Tech for the best weapons and mechanics, then the rest of us when it was convenient." Cami Flage gladly explained. "Did you know that's why there's so much Undead power at the other end of the forest?"

"That spot by the giant caves?" Elfie confirmed.

Grandmaster Cami nodded. "Over 200 days they fought. The army's name has been lost for a very long time, but they're the reason this forest stands today. So many forests and jungles are alive because the Undead could throw bodies at the Darkness like nobody else. Zombies, Death Knights, ghosts, skeletons, the Haunted Guard, all of them showed up and held the line when Skylands needed them the most, took away every advantage the Dark got from the surprise attacks. They say the only time anyone Dark was that angry was when Malefor died."

"'No matter our grievances, they gave us life; the least we can do is return it.'" Stealth Elf mocked. "What does all this have to do with our people?"

"Nobody remembers who said that, but it became quite the rallying cry for Life and Undead when the war got going." She chuckled and pretended she hadn't gotten a little off-topic. "When the Drow took the other side, left the Forest Elves alone, they used the stories of those Undead to fill the void. Weapons, armor, tactics, almost all of them were picked up from the fallen, the rest were forged from their designs during and after the War, then everything just stopped. Everyone just returned to the trees. No more weapons, more new clothes, no farms or trade. Most of the Forest Elves just locked themselves up in their treehouses and old bunkers.

That'll be why they never show up in the Academy or wars they don't declare. You'd think the ninja clans would be the last ones to interact with the rest of Skylands, but here you are... besides mass-raids when they think someone's abusing a forest... or when they say someone is..." She poorly danced around the details.

"Spyro did a project on something called the Pyvanna raids." Stealth shrugged half-disinterested.

"Fifteen perfectly healthy forests expanded everywhere they weren't supposed to be, ten kingdoms leveled to get them there, a lot of fertilizer, and an execution to save face so the rest of them could fade into the background and away from the Skylanders' attention while they chose another target." They were hardly subtle about it, and it was no coincidence they stepped away right after the Dark Master launched another crusade, but if it was dumb and worked then it wasn't that dumb.

Stealth Elf hummed in thought. "Not sure if I want to meet some."

"Meet who?" Whisper's small voice asked from within the canopy. Some branches rustled as one of the twigs she must've been standing on broke and she scrambled to regain her footing. Her small, gloved hands reached over the end of the oddly grown treetop terrace. She landed into the wooden cradle with a roll, hop, and bright, curious smile.

"Nothing important, hun." Cami Flage held back for now, Stealth just now starting to get her mind off the Skylanders and the forest's curse.

Her smallest looked around for a second, her bright white eyes landing on the small imprint in the wood. It was with too much familiarity for her to have just found the hideout; she just came out at a different angle than whatever other times she'd discovered and spent time here. Her shoes were too big to fit the footprints, and the worn marks were barefoot, but she fit snugly enough on the bundle of aged wood she and her big sister once used as a chair. She, too, stared up at the gap in the leaves, up at the bright Skylands and clear view of their beloved home forest. The young ninja didn't have the chance to explore the woods like Stealth did, but now that her old student was drawing the Skylanders' attention to the matter, they may be able to venture into the tainted woods once again.

Stealth Elf looked out at the woods as well. Lost in thought, she was unreadable and neutral, but there weren't many other places for her mind to wander. Still, she wasn't obsessing over her role as a Skylander. Turns out not setting her up for the Academy from the day she found her wandering the forest around that strange black, brown, gold, and mushroom-covered tree was the right call; she couldn't imagine trying to sort out this mess had she so much as considered that path. No matter what happened, no matter what they'd do when the day was over and Stealth was back to slaving over the curse problem, at least they were together again. That was much more than a lot of Forest Elves could ask for.

...

"That thing about Sensei Ambush is dumb." Elfie half-pouted

The Grandmaster smirked. "Feelings tend to be."

-<🌀>-

"I want a lead pipe."

The Aspirants behind them snickered and the old wizard blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want a lead pipe." George repeated. "Old reliable. I also want a speaker to play bonk sounds whenever I hit someone." That was what broke Roller Brawl, whose laugh then broke Hex and Skull.

Eon looked like he couldn't decide between laughing and sighing. But this was the guy who needed George to work with the Skylanders in order to get home, he had every right to screw with him. "I'm sure I can arrange one of those-"

"MASTER EON!"

His Mabu assistant sprinted across the sands with a torn envelope and a folded letter in his hand. The fog of sweat clouded Hugo's glasses and so much blood had drained from his face that even his fur looked as tan as the rest of the mole people George had seen and dragged away during the graduation attack. "IT'S FROM WOODBURROW! THERE'S BEEN AN ATTACK!"

Hugo panted with his hands on his knees and his glasses slowly slipping off his face as Eon took the letter. He unfolded it so fast that he almost tore it in thirds, he had to hold the top end steady so the breeze didn't bend the page over the words. His bright blue eyes widened for barely a second, then narrowed with determination while his white hair stood on end as it crackled with magic. Eon extended his free hand while handing the note back to Hugo. White and cyan crackled around his fingertips and down his arms as a pair of bright white surges, quaking through the fabric of reality unlike anything George had ever felt or managed to replicate. The last time either of them pulled this off was moving them to and from the Arena for the Final Trials.

In the blasts of white and cyan light appeared Chop Chop with the Earth Portal of Power and the dark gray and deep blue griffin. Her babies poked their fluffy heads out of the large feathers around her neck like a bunch of feathered-winged lion cubs hiding in their Dad's mane. One of them, with a sharp pair of eyes and visible tons of attitude, shouted at the Death Knight's shield. The skeleton didn't even react to the griffin's giggles as his shield vibrated like a gong, followed by one of them shifting through the fur and feathers to bap their sibling on the head. Their Mom and the knight were significantly more professional once they got their bearings.

"Chop Chop, Sonic Boom, we've received word of an isolated village beyond Woodburrow being destroyed by an unknown assailant. It was discovered by one of Woodburrow's civilians when she arrived for trading and exploration, is believed to be a few days old, and there were no sightings of any potential invaders entering or leaving the area. You will most likely face Life, Undead, or Air attackers based on the area and its weaknesses, but that is the only information available at this time." Eon briefed.

"Picking on people smaller than them." Sonic Boom growled and helped up one of her babies slowly slipping out of her mane. "We'll find them." She cleared her throat and insisted.

"Understood." The knight nodded before the Skylander and Eon's Elite were again warped across the Skylands to the destroyed site. None of the Aspirants or Portal Masters got to see what was on the other side, but the faint smoky smell of charred wood, decay, and something metallic seeped through the rift.

"You're just sending two of them? I figured Chop Chop was different, but I thought Skylanders worked in teams." George asked.

"Traditionally, yes, my Elites operate on their own and Skylanders are provided teams, but all Skylanders must be able to stand on their own and work with any other Skylander. Teams don't often stay together very long after graduation as new Skylanders gain experience and the means to cover their weaknesses, and Sonic Boom has been more than capable of fending for herself for a very long time."

"So they all stick with two people the whole time they're at the Academy just to drop them later?" He somewhat judged. Seemed like a waste to him.

"Two or more, yes, if the team chooses to. I design teams to cover each other's weaknesses and teach them to work with people they may have little in common with, the Skylanders will build the relationships they want to keep, whether they are assigned to the same Academy team or not. Skylanders often going their separate ways doesn't mean they aren't still good friends." Eon clarified.

"Still, what if something goes wrong?" You don't only send a couple of police to an active shooter situation, assuming it can be helped, which it seemed like it could if he could blip Skylanders around that easily.

"You underestimate the Skylanders, they are no mere guards or soldiers." He beamed with uncontainable pride. "Woodburrow and its surroundings are very strong in the Life Element. If the invaders were from there, they would be of Life as well, giving Chop Chop and Sonic Boom a great advantage. But if they are not, they're most likely Undead or Air, both of which the Skylanders are the peak of and will not be so easily bested. Their only weaknesses are Fire and Magic.

Additionally, Sonic Boom's hatchlings are stronger than they seem and excellent explorers. They are plenty capable of locating the culprits and their weakness Elements have both been known to overexert themselves; they were the victims turned users of a Time Curse before they and their Mother became Skylanders and are very capable of tricking and overwhelming such opponents while hiding behind Chop Chop's shield; both have a Portal of Power or wings to escape if truly needed; and I already knew neither of them were preoccupied, as they are remaining to guard the Academy for the rest of the week. I can assure you there is nobody better for the job."

George blinked and shook his head, trying to keep up. "You came up with all that off the top of your head?"

Eon chuckled with a wide grin. "Being a Portal Master extends far beyond opening rifts through reality on a whim. Understanding, truly understanding your companions and forging and reforging your bonds until they are unbreakable is more important than any portal or spell can be."

"Is this another ploy to get me to stay-"

"Not everything is about encouraging you to stay." Eon narrowed his bright blue eyes, crossed his arms, and deadpanned. The Aspirants behind them giggled as his face turned pink and he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and turning up his nose with his hands folded neatly behind his back.

"Just get me the lead pipe so I don't have to keep up with all the rock-paper-scissors-Pokemon logic..."

"Of course." The old man chuckled again.

-<🌀>-

It didn't take long for her hatchlings to bury themselves in her short mane. The sharp and stinging stench of smoke filled their beaks' nostrils and the Elite's four-eyed helm, even days after whatever brutal attack took place. They'd been under the impression the 'isolated' village would be a small one, and they were half-right, but it was tall. The trees supported a wide array of small homes, as did the mounds of dirt full of wooden window frames and plain doors, or they used to.

What wasn't still very faintly smoldering was utterly hacked to bits, covered in the gashes of axes and deep stabs of swords, though a lot of the details were hard to find when they were deformed and crumbled into char and soot. The easy guess was a cyclops attack, it wouldn't be the first time; the weapon choice was too consistent and uniform to be a band of angry Forest Elves, there weren't any arrows from Drow, no deep craters or signs of a gunfight for Trolls, Greebles were too feeble and would need to be far too numerous to do all of this damage so quickly not to be spotted instantly, and Cyclopses were well known for their axe-favoritism; but the one and vertical-eyed were far from this area of Skylanders and their best warriors leaned on the large side, too big to fly unnoticed for the entirity of such a journey.

So the Cyclopses were out, but they were looking for people with similar tools and tactics. Axe-wielding raiders screamed Frost Elves of the Winter Keeps, but they had a lot of the same problems as the rest of the candidates plus a weakness to the Life Element, not to mention being far more passive and good-natured than their raider culture suggested. The suffocating aura clinging to every slab of burnt wood, crushed rock, and squished blade of reminded her and Chop Chop of the Undead or the Darkness, whose lack of proximity brought them right back around to the exact same problems as the Cyclopses. This place was bright and lively. Chop Chop would've known if there were Undead anywhere nearby and the Darkness had all the same issues again!

No matter how many shards of stone they flipped over, no matter how many stained red daggers of glass they cleaned, no matter which burnt logs they rolled over, there was nothing. No bodies were strewn about the rubble, not even buried under their collapsed homes, but the grass was tainted all the same; so many dragged everywhere that it was impossible to discern where they were brought after being injured or murdered, just that many of them were caught in their own homes. In fact, a lot of the former residents' trails started right at their beds. The surprising lack of a makeshift funeral pyre to go with every house being reduced to ash and the soil free of hastily dug graves didn't help. Something had been done to their bodies, Ancients forbid they be alive to witness it.

"Anything?" She called out vaguely.

"Nothing new." Chop Chop responded with a faint, throaty growl shaking his vertebrae and a set of metal slivers narrowing each of his four glowing gold eyes.

"Same here." Sonic Boom lamented.

Her hatchlings peeked out of her mane for just a second, took a survey of the area, and crawled out now that a lot of the choking smoke and debris had been tossed aside. She gave the mighty Arkeyan a quick nod to make sure he knew what they were up to before joining her babies in the sky. They could still hear the weighty stomps as his armor shifted, filling with brass chain links, and delved deeper through the piles of devastation over the flaps of their wings. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

For hours the Skylanders went back and forth across the island, across the islands surrounding it, and across the isles beyond those. There was no damage on any of them, there were no other piles of debris, there were no survivors or escapees. Whoever did this, they just appeared from nothing and vanished into thin air. The Cyclopses were incapable of that; their Gazermages and Mages were purely combat spellcasters. Maybe, if an Orc tribe or similarly scrappy warband found a powerful enough teleportation relic and just happened to make use of an even amount of axes and swords, then it could work out, but that was making a lot of baseless asumptions. Not to mention this was way too targeted and organised to be a mere raid, someone here had something of interest that nobody in Woodburrow was aware of, or else they would've brought it up in the help letter.

"Looks like we'll be here for a while." She admitted to her hatchlings. At least they knew how to entertain themselves while soaring far and wide towards and away from Woodburrow.

-<🌀>-

"So, what'cha think?"

"I think you dragged me to a closed mall at two in the morning."

"Eh, details."

Still in her borrowed pajamas, a red button-up and pants, Eugenie had been dragged out to the edge of the Cadaverous Crypts. The three-story mall was on top of a combination of three or four islands bound by steel beams visible from the bottom of the isles.

"See the fourth window from the left? Make me a portal through there." Cynder pointed with a smile.

It took all of half a second to make a rift from the ground to inside the top floor. Inside was dark and chilly, as was a lot of the Undead areas. Cynder happily hopped through while Eugenie rubbed her eyes and motioned her to wait and close the portal. She disappeared in a haze of purple smog, despite giving colors to gas not being possible or the guys at uni would've had so many red fog machines suffocating the building throughout October, but Eugenie could unpack that lack of science after she figured out the stupid shadow problem.

She chose a small, weak tree to lean against for a few minutes while Cynder did something. Probably stealing stuff, if she was honest, and it'd be all she could think about while trying to raise the dead and control her motions the next morning, but that was guilt for tomorrow's Portal Master. Some clicks, a flash, and the hum of electricity came from the shuddered front doors. They flung open and Cynder, with a fluffy gray wolf-like stole wrapped around her neck and a hideously glittery gold pair of sunglasses on her face.

"Now, what's a lass like you doin' all alone on a late night?" She asked like an excessively expensively dressed, old-money woman from a noir detective movie.

"You brought me here to shoplift?" Eugenie tiredly blinked.

"Among other things." Cynder angled down the glasses to stare the Human in the eyes with a wide smirk.

Her platinum claw gripped the Portal Master's wrist before she could ask if there were any guards around and their long night began.

She was quickly woken up by a heist of a small arcade. Games she'd never heard of and promptly got her butt kicked at were organized into dimly lit halls as Cynder powered them all on in one long jolt of lightning. The dragoness gauged the token machines open with her bare claws and picked the first few games, mostly shooters and racing games. Then it was Jenny's turn to bring Cynder to the air hockey equivalent and make her explain Skystones once she woke up. They split midway through the incursion, replaying shooters and trying fishing games, blasting digital deer and mowing down hordes of killer robots, racing to the end of complex tracks and shooting each other down with dragon wing propeller engine fighter planes, and shattering the glass of a giant claw machine with the tip of Cynder's tail to pick a plushie. Jenny got herself a white cat.

It ended with the dragon ripping clean through the registers and safe, gathering them all into a pile, and giving Eugenie instructions where to send them. Never in all her life had she even considered anything like this, never did she consider this, but Cynder worked quickly and there really wasn't anyone around. It wasn't just the arcade, either. One by one, they hit different stores all around the mall. A lot of clothing stores were on Cynder's hit list; they cobbled together all the most hideous and gorgeous outfits they could find. She'd tried on more black in a single night than she was allowed to her entire time on Earth. White suited her best, but the black turned out to be a good second choice, along with a healthy touch of vibrant red.

And when they were in the clear, usually while snacking on the insides of crushed vending machines, they'd scoop piles of gold through portals and snatch whatever clothes or trinkets they thought were nice. Cynder picked up plenty of rings, earrings, bracelets, and necklaces on their way through the unprotected jewelry stores and packed-up stands. Anything shiny was fair game to her. There were some nice clip-on earrings and a couple of fancy handwear, all visibly less expensive than what Cynder was grabbing but still pricier than anything Jenny or her parents had ever wasted money on, but she steered generally steered clear of the accessories.

Just seeing if they fit made her gut churn, though they and the many small stacks of gold put a smile on the dragoness's face. Not that it came as much of a surprise, almost every story with a dragon in it came with at least a page worth of the smallest details about their massive treasure hordes. Maybe Cynder had a hidden room in the castle stocked full of gold coins, jewels, and decorations; this could hardly be her first time breaking into a mall with how easily she planned it out. As far as Eugenie could tell, the only difference was the ability to shove everything through a portal instead of a bag. She appeared to be far too polished and her scales too extravagant to be lugging around a potato sack, but the image of her heaving gold through Eugenie's head got a giggle out of her between stores.

None of which was speaking of the walking fashion catastrophes they became as they decided who would be keeping what clothes by wearing everything they could toss over their shoulders or tie around their waists. Most of their stuff was sized for the Mabu and a lot of what fit Eugenie was fancier than she was comfortable with. Cynder had no such reservations about the cloaks and scarves and stoles and glasses draped over her forelegs' and wings' dual shoulders and stacked over her horns. Jenny got a comparatively small handful of simple enough clothes, which reminded her of the above-average clothes everyone had at Uni, but at least they fit.

Maybe tonight wasn't such a bad night... subjectively speaking... and the tiring morning would be worth it.

Chapter Text

Cold winds rushed around her body as she and Cynder walked through the forges of bright orange and haunting gray flames. Cynder might've been a lightning dragon, but she was still a beast more than resilient enough to move through the maze of brazenly exposed fires undeterred, not made for creatures with skin. The stone kilns were as huge as they were sweltering just to walk around. Eugenie assumed they were stone, at least; they were covered in so many coats of ashy white that it was impossible to tell where each cobble block started and ended. The uppermost layers were only barely able to be clawed at and torn away from the walls and forges and ground. Lines of gathered ash loomed down from the ceiling support beams like stalactites and piled atop them like snow.

If it was some consolation, none of the workers appeared sapient. They went to and fro with empty eyes, walking along poorly spray-painted lines in the ashen floor, holding color-coordinated boxes of various materials. Each weaved through the fires in perfect sync like a bunch of robots, packing down the ash into roads where the top ash didn't shift as much. So much of it was caked to the floor that it made uneven ground around the openings of the kilns and slid like small sand dunes right as gallons of molten metal were poured into the wide open infernos. Sparks and globs of gold-hot liquid splashed out of the openings like rain of fire.

The ground trembling beneath her sandals didn't help her confidence in the structural integrity of such a gargantuan and unmaintained operation. Bubbling cauldrons of iron and steel sent shivers through all of the hanging platforms, pathways, machinery, and forges. Few of the skeleton workers lost their footing, if only because of how consistently the pathways had been worn into the floor's ashes, but several circlets of unrefined metals and finished products like cheap bolts and screws clattered out of their boxes and fell deep into the impossibly big smithy's depths. Some disembodied bone hands swept out from the sides of the platforms to collect the fallen products, along with fistfuls of loose ash, and deposit them back into small crates beneath the panels so they could be resorted later.

Her clothes were thin, short, and light, a tank top and shorts, yet her whole body was hopelessly soaked in sweat like she had just crawled out of a swimming pool. Forget that, she was still swimming! Disgusting drops flung off her body like the pebbles of tiny slingshots as the currents of stale air mixed with smoke and soot cooled her off and held back the vaporised toxins. Cynder flapped her wings over the lines of skeletons like it was nothing while Eugenie tensed, ineffectively wiped her hands on her shorts, and hyped herself up just to wait for the workers to give her an opening.

There were next to no shadows along the whitened walls and around the equipment, there were way too many open flames exploding out of every oven not to ignite the whole building. Not even a single torch or lantern was mounted anywhere around them. Maybe there were some normal lights at one point, but they'd been drowned by countless layers of soot for a very long time. Eugenie took a deep breath as they approached an extremely sketchy elevator, grateful for the Wind Aura Cynder so relentlessly pushed her into learning but wishing they could've tested it more.

The lift was scrapped together with metal grates and a simple sliding barred door, hot to the touch, even through her sandals. She could see why Cynder told her to leave behind anything metal today. As they got lower, the forges got bigger. The temperature sharply spiked as they descended, then returned to something almost tolerable as the higher-end forges were covered in some amount of insulation. The icy coverings increased as they fell, yet the heat didn't fall with them. With every layer of frost-covered cotton covering shiny metal and rock forges, there was a far hotter process within.

Expansive Fire crystals grew across and between the gaps in the forges' stones instead of cement, right beneath the Water and ice gems studding the sheets of insulation, putting a lot of pressure on the coverings and vibrating with power as pumps infused with Air diamonds funneled a constant stream of increasingly pure Air instead of bellows the deeper they went. Yet deeper, cold pipes released steam not through valves and vents, but wafting off their metal surfaces as the fires evaporated the condensation as it gathered around the frigid energies and dripped away from the maintenance valves. The means of construction got weirder, too; walls were decorated with ornate red marks made in blends of red and black. Forges were built into the structure and framework of the gradually moving skyship, part of the boilers and engine, rather than modules added to an existing mega vessel.

"Hey, Smoltergeist, we've got a commission for ya." Cynder called to an empty room covered wall-to-wall, or made up of, large forges of all kinds.

Ash snowed from the highest peaks of the skyship and lightly dusted the golden domes covered in evaporating frost and black iron furnace doors coated in sigils. Their internals, only seen through extremely blackened porthole shields, glowed incredibly bright as waves of heat rippled off their cages' surfaces. Smoke funneled up through metal chimneys and embers seeped through the tiniest gaps in the machinery. In the center of the room sat a fire pit flickering with gray flames and many small 'mechanical' arms, bones clad in brass and animated by a spell circle lining the gold-protected pit, folded up and limply lying about the floor as the fire raged.

"Getting cold out there?" A voice asked from one of the furnaces. Fire swelled out of the system in the shape of a bright orange ghost with big hands and a pair of white eyes, one bigger than the other.

"A little bit." Cynder shrugged and twirled her talons in a gray aura. She handed the ghost some schematics they'd been working on for a while. 'Smoltergeist' gave them a once-over and lightly burned some holes into the sides of the page, then fed the seared paper into an icy gold-plated machine at the base of the gray fire pit.

"Material, please!" He spun around the mouth of the gray flames as they started to rise and curl into a funnel.

"Remember the gold pile I told you to set aside?" Cynder asked while twirling another circle. She produced a jar full of dust, popped the cap off, and poured it into the gray flames as a pipe lowered from the ceiling to pour a long line of liquid copper into the mix.

Eugenie opened a rift above the gray fire and watched the amassed coins funnel in. She wasn't sure how much metal went into their magic items, but this seemed pretty small. Maybe the copper was pulling more weight than she thought, or there was something already in the melting pot. The fire ghost clapped his large hands in celebration before he dove deep into the gray fires. The surrounding furnaces burned brighter, shaking with power and releasing searing hot plumes of steam throughout the entire room. Ice crystals rapidly turned to bubbling water and puffs of mist that fumed around and spun with Jenny's protective aura.

Cynder didn't even pretend to care for the heat as she gestured Eugenie back to the elevator. "Give him a day, he'll drop it off at your door."

"You have to deal with this every time you wanna make something?" She huffed. Her clothes were much darker than when they boarded the forge ship and stuck to her skin no matter how she twisted and contorted her body to peel them off like a tight film.

"If you want it done right, yeah." Cynder chuckled as the elevator began rising anew. "Closer to the bow is your cheap crap for the foot soldiers, up is the ship parts, back is the heavy armor, down here is your really good stuff. This is where I learned."

"Like what?" She waved powerful gusts through her tangled hair with her bare hands.

"Best of the best and nothing less. All our best warriors' armor, weapons, and vehicles are made here. The best workers get their tools from this place, this is where the best pilots have their whole crafts built, this is where my cuffs were made, this is where my Dad sends his armor for repairs, everything." The dragon grinned in admiration. She really should've been a fire dragon.

Eugenie swore on her life that she made a waterfall out of straining her hair. "Lucky me."

Cynder's laugh was as raspy and endearing as ever. "It'll be a lot better when you're out of here."

The whole thing was shaped like a boat with a very long, tall, and wide keel and a decent-sized prism over the top like a dome. It radiated heat, even when they got to the top and were free of the furnaces and overstimulating clanging of hammers on metal. Towering spirals of pipes, chimneys, pumped smoke behind the colossal vessel, too small for anything to slip inside while numerous enough to keep up with the flying fortress's absurd needs. The countless engines on the back were always thrumming with power and jets of flame. Its spiked plow could easily barrel through most small islands and debris fields. Being propped on massive coils and suspension tubes, the interior barely shifted, more trembling under its own engines and smithies than the impact of isles.

While Eugenie was suddenly frozen solid by the rush of cool air flowing freely through the very top of the ship and being stirred by propeller blades pulling jets along, Cynder summoned her arcane phone. Her pupils widened ever so slightly and a soft smile graced her reptilian jaws.

The Portal Master leaned in while her platinum claws clicked the screen. "What'cha got there?"

"Eh, nothing, just a friend." Cynder brushed off and dispelled the phone.

"Didn't look like nothing." Jenny grinned.

"How dare I have a social life!" She mocked a stab to the heart and continued out of the hangar, onto the open top of the ship's cover. "Just someone with questions about Undead rituals."

"Are you giving lessons to everyone, or just special people?" She tried to tease, but the dragon didn't bat an eye.

"I traded for some info on Magic relics." Cynder shrugged and invited Eugenie onto her back.

Sitting on a dragon with sweat pouring down and blowing off your body wasn't a sensation she was excited to feel ever again, nor was the dryness in her throat after the entire volcanic ordeal; Cynder could've at least given her a reaction. But no, her dragon hath abandoned her.

"That thing doesn't have a Fire Sky Core, does it?" She idly mused.

"Two of them; One Fire, one Water." Cynder brushed off on the way to a portal platform.

"And nobody thinks it's a bad idea to put everything in one ship?" She pointed out as they landed on a barren island.

Cynder shook her head as Eugenie stepped off. "Nobody's gotten deep enough in our territory to try their luck, and we just move it if someone gets too close for comfort."

The platform's white base glowed and hummed as Eugenie's fingers traced the stone lining, igniting the symbols on its edges and expanding the rift's reach far beyond its normal range. She brought her and Cynder across the Cadaverous Crypts in a flash of cyan light and heavy gray storm clouds. Static electricity clung to their hair and horns as they reappeared at the foot of the many giant cranes and squabbling Undead workers before starting for the deeper parts of the scrap yard, away from prying eyes and towards their discovery.

-<🌀>-

"You're only relying on the weight and sickle, use the chain, even rope is a weapon." More training isn't what Cami Flage was after, but it was at least familiar to Stealth Elf and Whisper was having a good time

Stealth was already mid-motion when the Grandmaster called out to her, dashing and weaving through a field of training dummies with arms lined in sharp metal crescents. A chain wrapped around her chest, the lead ball on one end had a lot more slack than the kama in her loose grip. The weight whirled around her head with momentum and only a meek flick of her wrist before she brought it into the end of one dummy's blades, denting it and snapping it upward as the ball rebounded away from the flash of sparks and bashed its target in the side of the head. Her fingertips clicked and clanked lightly against the chain links as they twisted in her palm, spinning with the rotation of the ball as it flew through a mix of hay and the potato sack the dummy was made of.

She leapt to kick the dislodged crescent into another foe's chest and spun with the weight. Dragging it into the treetops with her motion and shifting its orbit vertically, both completed the spin a couple of times before they appeared to be targeting a dummy right below her, until she allowed the weight a lot more length so it would bash in the fabric skull of another hay enemy behind it and turned the feint into a quick slash with the kama across the first mark's leathery throat. She landed on its shoulders and fanangled with the rapidly spinning lead to draw it in and guide it behind her as she lunged for another small grouping.

At the last second before colliding with a leather vest-covered bundle of hay and sticks in the shape of a ribcage, she gripped some of the chains between her weapons and allowed the lead to fly by her long ear, knocking the head off a prop to the side as she kicked her target in the chest and twirled to wrap the chain around its neck and yank the whole thing off. The Forest Elf drew back the weight while splinters bounced off her dragon scale armor and she released her kama. It whistled like an arrow before she tapped her kneepad into the chain between it and her fist, changing the angle and launching it into the fourth-to-last dummy's collar.

Getting it caught on the leather vest by cracking the chain like a whip, she pulled herself faster toward the final two, then jumped and twirled horizontally. Tangling the chain in her legs, a fatal mistake for anyone trying to wield such an unpredictable weapon, and yanking the chain across her armored forearm, the lead weight slid across the lapis fabric of her new suit as she launched it at one of the remaining dummies, shattering its chest. She was sticking out her thumbs and gliding them over her chest to draw the chains back up before she even hit the ground. Her feet impacted the grass with silent thuds as she swiftly cut open the first dummy's gut. Retracting and jabbing her thumbs back out mid-dash, she guided a segment of chain around the final dummy's crescent weapon and snapped its arm in two. More chain was coiled over its shoulder and used to haul herself up to its neck so she could drive the crescent and kama blade into the back of its head.

While Stealth quickly got a handle on the spinning lead by wrapping it around the dummy, making it come after her so she could slow it down as she hopped off the other side, Cami Flage lightly applauded. "Well done!"

The Skylander panted through her new scarf and settled the kama and weight on her belt by wedging the chain links over the pearly iridescent fangs of her favorite blades and bowed. "Thank you, Grand-" She stopped and cleared her throat. Her scarf covered the way her face darkened, but the old ninja could feel it in her bones. "-Cami Flage." Stealth swallowed like she was trying to force the name to sound normal.

She and Whisper chuckled. "If I remember correctly, your trip back to the Skylanders comes today."

"Yes, Cami Flage, Flynn will be here any minute." She confirmed like a soldier.

"Can I come?" Whisper exclaimed.

"Maybe one day, Wisp." Cami Flage laughed. "But we'll be joining you at the dock."

Stealth waved her hands. "You don't have to do that."

"We want to, Stealth." She insisted and patted Whisper on the shoulder to do the same, who nodded enthusiastically.

"I..." Elfie tried to protest, but the deadpan face on her Grandmaster wasn't budging. "Okay."

She hadn't brought anything, never intending to stay this long, so they left as soon as the conversation was over. Different members of the clan gave respectful nods to the Skylander and Grandmaster as they walked through the small huts and bridges. Whisper was being gently tugged along by the hand while she waved at and drifted towards her friends. The Dread-Yacht, in all its teal scrapyard 'glory', was waiting patiently by a wooden outcrop while its owner and self-proclaimed greatest pilot in Skylands talked with one of the Elders, visibly annoyed by the Mabu's presence.

Beside them, at the foot of the skyship, stood a familiar man; not a Forest Elf or Mabu, but a Tree-Knight out of myth. Black armor with a gold trim covered his forearms as one, wooden, three-fingered hand gripped a massive, neon green greatsword with a chrome blade and decorative golden details on the back and center. More gold and black armor with some green details covered his legs as the flaps of his robes blanketed his thighs, idly swaying in the breeze. Lighter green armor with black streaks shielded his chest with a golden heart in the center. Dark green leaves with gold markings protected his shoulders while longer, floppier leaves like those of a palm tree sprouted out of his collar like he was a vampire. He might as well have been, to Elfie.

"Sensei Ambush, old friend, it's been too long." Cami Flage released Whisper Elf just long enough to bow to Eon's Elite. She knew better than to try and escape before the ancient Skylander.

He stabbed his sword into the soil and returned the gesture. "Likewise, Grandmaster." The three wooden prongs atop his face held back the bright green palm tree leaves growing out of his head. Neither of his glowing gold eyes so much as blinked at the Forest Elves.

Stealth Elf, for one, felt her heart freeze in her chest like it was petrified into a clump of thorns. Her bow wasn't nearly as fluid as it was before Cami Flage. "Sensei, I wasn't expecting you to join us."

He nodded. "Nor did I, but I was informed that the Core of Light may be at risk. I will be returning to Master Eon with you."

Stealth Elf glanced to the Grandmaster. TRAITOR! She smirked beneath her brown mask. In a heartbeat.

"Alright, you guys ready to head out?" Flynn cracked his knuckles and hailed them onto the Dread-Yacht with a dumb smile. He flicked his pilot goggles onto his face as he stepped onto the deck and walked toward the wheel. The Skylanders nodded in acknowledgement. Ambush boarded while Elfie and her little clan bid their goodbyes.

"I will..." She muttered through grinding teeth. "I wasn't ready for this!"

"You won't be ready until you try. He hasn't held anything against you since you left, just take a breath and try to talk to him." Cami Flage reassured. "Besides, the Core of Light keeps us all safe and the Skylanders deserve all the help we can offer."

"Right, right..." Elfie nodded.

"One more thing; I want you to have this." Cami Flage produced a small, curved blade, an ornamental ninjato. Its sheath was plain black with an intentionally tarnished, non-shiny, gold tip and base, as was the sword's black fabric-wrapped handle, and vaguely flower-shaped guard. The blade was decorated by silvery etchings in the shape of a leaf-covered vine slithering along its length. "All our ninjas get one of these when they grow up, but you were so young when you went to the Skylanders. I wanted to make sure you got yours before you went home."

Home... "I... Thank you, Cami Flage." Stealth Elf took the blade and bowed. It attached neatly to the back of her belt, right behind the dragon fang double-daggers attached seamlessly, sheathless, and clipless to her hips; it was easy to rapidly grab either a dagger or the blade as the situation demanded a stab or slash, whichever an attacker was least expecting. And she could still attach a modified longsword sheath to her spine, if she ever got the hang of them. She'd seen back-attached sheathes work, they just needed a slit down the side and a small panel so one could hit the brace and swipe the blade in.

"I'll come back as soon as I have the chance." She insisted. "We'll figure out what's going on with the forest."

"I know, Stealth." Cami Flage nodded and smiled through her bandana. "What do you say, Whisper?"

The small apprentice let go of their Grandmaster's hand and wrapped her arms around Elfie's waist. Whisper's fingers could barely meet over her back. "It was nice to meet you!"

Her hug wasn't returned, Stealth's arms were hanging stiffly over her head and her white eyes were zipping between Cami Flage and Whisper's purple hair for some, no, any form of direction. All she got was a frustratingly unhelpful chuckle. She had to settle for an incredibly awkward pat on the head that all but screamed to the ninja clans that the Life Skylander didn't have the slightest clue what she was doing with an energetic child of the same Element and nearly identical background.

Whisper didn't leave when she pulled away, much to her elder's dismay. Instead, she smiled and pulled up her upper lip. "Tooth gap buddies!" As if it were some sacred secret.

Stealth blinked a few times, again looking to Cami Flage in vain before baring her teeth as well. Whisper's were a bit more crooked than hers and visibly a result of whatever shenanigans she and her friends got up to, but they were still 'tooth gap buddies'... apparently... For some reason, it pleased the tiny ninja; her eyes lit up like white-hot wildfires renewing their corrupted forest, significantly brighter than Stealth Elf's eyes. In fact, all of the clan members had much brighter white eyes than Stealth. The only ones with darker eyes were the Drow and Undead Elves, though Hex looked much more lively than she was.

It was nothing, just a minor difference between her and the rest of her kind, a mutation that added as much as it subtracted. It didn't mean anything, it doesn't mean anything. Cami Flage gave her a hug, binding her shoulders gently and quickly before wishing her luck and a safe journey. As she wasn't an elder or Master, let alone the Grandmaster or a Sensei, she gave the tribe in general a respectful bow with her fist pressed firmly to her palm, silently mouthing an unheard wish of prosperity and safety on them all. The voiceless chant felt unnatural and foreign coming out of her heart after so many years. She may have been a child the last time she repeated the chant, and her people may not have been able to see the words pouring out of her heart after so very long, but a part fo her felt that they recognized her as the girl they sent to the Academy.

Those who were newly anointed as adults, granted their favored weapons and swords, whom they were too young to remember each other back then and the children who joined their clans since her departure saw that she had been one of them before she finished her wish to Skylands and joined her former Sensei and the 'greatest' Mabu pilot. The Dread-Yacht's crescent-shaped sail at the front and the fin at the back flapped back and forth as their captain habitually tested his controls and paced about the edges of his ship, something she distantly knew through the grapevine came with being a pilot for the Skylanders and that previous aides hadn't added to their pre-flight checks.

Ambush was right at the front of the ship, giving a single wave farewell to the clans as she gladly stayed at the center of the mismatched gray, red, and teal metal panels. The ship purred as the engine came to life, a sound Spyro and Eruptor loved an unreasonable amount, and the propellers below began to spin and the oars beside the orb-shaped frontal turret and strange wooden balcony built into the many welded-together steel sheets started to stir the warm winds. They were off again, watching the visage of her island, her forest, the very top of her tree in the far distance, fade away. But she would be back this time, she'd figure out what was going on with their forest and finally visit it again.

In the meantime, she took advantage of her former Sensei meditating at the front of the ship and drew her new blade with a swift slash. It cut smoothly through the air in an instant, though not quite as well as her daggers. A little more ceremonial than combat-ready. It may not have been as effective as Spyro's gift, but a weapon was a weapon and knowing the Grandmaster, enhancing the blade to a Skylander's standards was well within a ninja's right. She slashed and stabbed and twirled until the blade was as comfortable to hold as possible and she knew the weight, the drag, and the length like the back of her old gloves.

-<🌀>-

Another boulder impacted the far wall, right past his white and red archery target. Every rock he sent the circle's way felt like it was getting further off-target. George had made a lovely assortment of craters around the target, though. The walls had a ring around it and the ground, littered with the cracked pebbles of his earlier attempts, had small trenches and foxholes carved into the sand. The top of the Earth gymnasium's light stone-studded cavern shook and dropped dust on his and the team's heads as he angrily smashed the pipe on the ground. Tremors ran through the packed sand and made the training weapons along the walls shake in their stands. Roller Brawl, resting her head on her arm and dozing off, snapped awake while Hex lost and regained her place in her book for the nth time in the last half-hour.

"I need a break." George huffed and leaned on the metal club, rubbing his baggy eyes.

Roller Brawl yawned and stretched her arms over her head. "Nono, you were so close."

He side-eyed her until she finally glanced at the target. "Oh."

Hex slammed her book shut, startling Food Fight and Skull. "We all just need a nice, long break!" Her sickly pale face sagged and her brow furrowed.

"We're in the middle of a break!" The artichoke waved around his hand cannon, accidentally firing an explosive tomato into the ceiling.

Shards of debris and more gravel fell right on George's head. They'd become fond of sticking to his skin and hair, lately, but were easy to shake off. Every piece, from the smallest grain of sand clinging to the tip of a strand of hair to the knife-like sliver of stone gluing itself along his forearm, fell to the ground at once as he willed that they were not welcome. He lifted his pipe and swung it over his shoulder with a heavy sigh, unsure how much another break was going to help. There was a lot on his plate and no more time in the day to get it done.

For George, it'd been the exact same dream about his parents and Maria behind a collapsing portal. He imagined Hex and Roller's dreams to be the same, since his had no variation, though he didn't know what the living plant dreamt about and was pretty sure Wind-Up didn't sleep, being a robot. He'd yet to run into Spyro, the purple dragon always seemed to be either way too busy to talk (also in the middle of his break, George might add), texting someone, or flying across the gathered islands to repeat the process somewhere else. Between all of it and trying to put together a working portal home, and he was using up all the time in his day.

If he couldn't sleep, maybe a walk would be alright. The team of Aspirants and Portal Master bid each other farewell before they scattered about the Academy and Elemental Isles. Undead was a popular Element for half of them, it appeared a decent chunk of them didn't need sleep the same way everyone else did, more like bouts of inactivity while standing in a poorly-lit corner. He figured the Tech Element would be the same, but it turned out to be a somewhat even split between the actual robots granted sentience and the combat technicians. Everywhere else felt comparatively barren; nobody was swimming or flying through the Water and Air sections, Tech's engines and Fire were relatively cool, Life and Earth lacked the chirping of birds and rumbles of heavy footsteps, and Magic's spectral tides moved erratically and unsteadily, yet sluggishly.

Some minor spats broke out between the few Initiates walking about the polished stone paths and crystal-lined railings. Flashwing was constantly whining about not getting her beauty sleep and how her teammates didn't even care, what looked like a floating voodoo doll was practically asleep as it floated toward Eon's Tower; everyone was just a little snappy, save for those who were less vocal like the ninja characters and that 'Tidepool' sharpshooter or never stopped to be seen irritable like Spyro and Eruptor. Although the latter of which already looked ready to pulverize anyone in his way.

This couldn't be natural, there was no situation where this could ever be natural. A bunch of god-tier firefighter-police-military-bountry hunters and their trainees didn't all have repeated nightmares every night for almost the whole week. He ascended the absurd number of stairs and arrived at the big wooden doors with a huff, eager to be able to warp himself far enough to teleport directly into the tower.

Eon was in the center of a chalk circle, surrounded by some small crystals and burning incense. His eyes were shut and he was sitting on nothing, floating just above the cobble floor while his robe billowed and beard swayed in a breeze that wasn't there. He looked like he was meditating underwater. The gem in his helmet glowed with magic like a dim nightlight as he hummed and steadied his breathing. An eye cracked open for a second and the Portal Master stood upright. His staff appeared from nothing and sparked with magic, dispelling a shimmering aura about the chalk circle.

"George, I wasn't expecting you." He greeted with a bow.

"Nothing's gonna explode since I interrupted, is it?" George rubbed an eye and asked.

Eon just chuckled, a lot more energetic than the Aspirants he'd been spending the day with. "I wouldn't perform such a ritual spell above the Academy. I presume you're here about the series of night terrors?"

George blinked before he caught up. "Uh, yeah, how did you-"

"I assure you, I'm well aware of the problem." Eon waved it off. "Normally, Blackout would be helping me with this, but he and Trapmaster Enigma are working together between dreaming about and searching for the Elemental Sources."

"I got put up to this instead." That voodoo doll-like figure appeared from the balcony.

George jumped away from the balcony as she cackled at his expense. Her head shook with each laugh, only loosely connected to her neck by some tightly caught black threads. She looked like she couldn't decide between wearing pajamas or real clothes. The Shield couldn't tell, anyway. Her patchwork body slightly peeked through the holes in her pastel yellow button-up shirt with white polkadots, it looked like a couple slightly different shades of blue stitched together into a cylinder, not a real and proper, proportional body.

The arms had a lot more effort put into them, if missing her right hand. They looked humanoid and had seams with visible black stitches on the joints, visible through the rips at the end of the right sleeve, and the left sleeve was torn off at the elbow. Her pants were comparatively intact and her feet were stitched into a pair of light pink slippers. The remaining hand was about as loosely attached to her very densely cotton-stuffed wrist as her head. It looked more like a ton of cotton balls stuffed into the cylinders than teddy bear stuffing, too tightly packed before they were shoved into the body. The oversized head looked like the only part that wasn't packed, though that was because of the lack of a seam at any part, unless you counted the neck's strings.

"Someone's jumpy." She snarked with a grin. Her teeth were pearly white and covered in braces. Her bright white eyes looked like Barbella's and her dark blue hair was long and tangled like the girl from The Ring, affixed with a pink bow at the top.

He swore up and down that something, a spider, was crawling up his spine and over his shoulder. The floating doll hissed like she'd been punched in the eye as he yelped and slapped a disembodied hand off of him like it was a giant centipede. One of the black strings tried to wrap around his fingers as it fell to the floor, landing on the back of the hand. Set in the center of the palm was one, bloodshot, green eye staring up at him like he'd betrayed its trust and killed its entire family. The threads coiled beneath it and flipped the appendage over, it scuttled to the loudly laughing voodoo doll and levitated up to her detached wrist once it hit an aura like a gust around her lightly kicking and limply dangling feet. She vaguely held the hand in place so the strings could stab into the holes in her forearm on their own and fasten the limb in place under both Portal Masters' disapproving glares.

"I was wondering where I left that." She faked innocence with a devious smile.

"As I was saying." Eon huffed. "Seeing as my normal assistant regarding the dream and nightmare realms is preoccupied, I've enlisted Dreamcatcher to help me divine the source of this epidemic while Hugo and Cali research unusually powerful Elemental areas."

"So there was no point to me being here?" George sighed.

"Not quite." Eon created a portal above his hand. A flash of cyan light appeared under a jar in the distance and dropped it into his grasp. All he recognised in the mix was a few stalks of lavender, the rest was a bunch of ground herbs floating in a solution of blueish oils and a soaked slip of paper covered in smeared ink symbols. "Try sleeping with this next to your bed. If it doesn't protect you from the source of the nightmares, it may give you a glimpse at it."

It hovered to George in a cyan haze. Dreamcatcher followed it and curled around the smaller Portal Master. "Weird." She blandly remarked with faux interest. "I didn't think you liked the old esoteric stuff."

"I may favor materials with more... built-in magical capabilities, but I can admit the ways of older witches may suit my lacking understanding on this topic." Eon nodded.

"And you just had this lying around?" He raised a brow.

"It's meant to sit for a few days." Eon brushed it off and headed for his desk, seeing his divination ritual was interrupted, and started sorting through a small stack of papers. "I learned the trick through a communion with someone beyond Skylands. They were very talented in such matters, gave very detailed instructions." Eon hummed. "Was their name 'Masha'? I believe it was..."

George blinked and shook his head. "You can just ask someone from another dimension for help, but you can't figure out where I'm supposed to go or what's gotten into the Academy?"

"Communion with another magic user is very different from creating a bridge between realities, or I would've been able to send you home. That being said, I think you'll be happy to hear you are Blackout and Enigma's other project." Eon tried to offer some consolation. "They've borrowed your old hoodie to be an anchor; they're trying to make a map from Skylands to your house. Enigma has reported their progress has been inconsistent, but it's better than nothing."

He perked up a little bit. Eon wasn't the only one searching? Could they slip a message through? Whatever, it didn't matter, all that mattered was that someone was getting somewhere. "Tell them I said thank you."

"Of course." Eon smiled warmly. Like clockwork, right as all seemed normal and calm, Hugo came running through the doors with a cream file full of papers.

"Master Eon! There's been a fourth attack!" He half-threw the stack onto the Portal Master's desk.

Eon's face steeled as he flipped open the file and stroked his beard, his expression growing colder as he read. George and Dreamcatcher glanced at each other in silence as Hugo paced before the foot of the table and tapped his fingers. "Masker Mind lives in that area, correct?" The Mabu looked up only to nod at the wizard. "I will dispatch Double Trouble and Sunburn." He sighed and pinched his nose.

"Uh, fourth attack?" George raised his hand as if he were in class.

"Sonic Boom and Chop Chop were close enough to the site of a second attack to respond when there were active fires, but they haven't discovered any sign of the perpetrators, and two more incidents with similar traits were found across the Skylands." Eon explained without looking up from the stack of papers.

"What if I take a look? Maybe there was a portal there." George stepped forth.

"Absolutely not." The wizard shot him down almost instantly, even getting Dreamcatcher to wince and slowly back out of the tower while no eyes were on her.

"But I-"

He stood up. "You are completely untrained, have minimal experience with Skylands, its magic, and your own abilities, have only recently made your first successful portals, and barely any armor or evasive capabilities."

"I stood up to that 'Kaos' freak." George crossed his arms.

Eon returned the gesture. "For the middle third of a one-on-two fight with one of the best performing Aspirants the Academy has ever produced, yes, but not an extended mission with two other Skylanders juggling an unknown number of threats with a reputation for leaving no survivors."

"You didn't treat him like that before graduation." He criticized.

"My worries about Spyro came from his attitude towards becoming a Skylander, not his abilities." Eon defended.

"I-In all fairness, sir." Hugo peeked over the table. "They haven't been found at any of the other sites, there's no reason to think George will be in danger this time. A-And Double Trouble is very experienced and Sunburn was burning evil long before he joined the Academy."

Eon reluctantly mulled over Hugo's case, then sat back down. "Very well, you may join them, just don't try to climb anything or approach any wreckage."

He tapped his staff on the cobble floor with a thud that echoed further than wood and stone should've allowed. Two flashes of searing red and orange flames and a pillar of violet and pink force crashed into the old man's office.

Something between a phoenix and a griffin with bright red feathers and a deep blue underbelly stood at one of George's sides and a short blue figure with a tiki mask as big as his whole body was at the other. Their flaming yellow and bright green eyes glanced at the boy before the feathers on the back of the mask and around the spiky yellow crest on the four-legged bird's head. The tiki man's straw tunic and the fire bird's talons scraped across the stones as they turned to face their Portal Master.

"Double Trouble, Sunburn, I trust you've caught up on Chop Chop and Sonic Boom's reports?" Eon used his staff as a walking stick as he rounded the corner of his desk and pushed in his chair with a magical wave. Both Skylanders nodded in affirmation. "You will be guiding and protecting George on the way to another site. He will do his best to find any rifts or teleportation points, but he may need your magical expertise." He honed in on the living tiki before dismissing them.

As beams of bright cyan light enveloped the three and the chills ran down George's body, the nauseating stench of copper and smoke filled his nostrils.

Chapter Text

Sand and rocks scattered as the three arrived, especially from where the Portal Master stood. A lot of the small pebbles couldn't seem to decide between flying with the force of the warp and clinging to his shoes. Despite how the sands shifted under the phoenix and tiki's feet, walking never felt easier for George, and he was going to need every single aid for this. Columns of smoke billowed to the peaks of Skylands and swirled around the tips of the bottoms of the other floating islands. More smoke fumed up from the tops of those isles and around the island they stood on.

Countless homes gone; from things as mundane as office buildings and restaurants to large museums and small fortresses were crumbling to dust as flames burst through the windows and doors. Sandstone and cobble buildings were carved clean through like they were nothing more than the wet clay surrounding the collapsed wells. Heat clung to his skin and ashes fell about his shoulders and face. Vile orange light like the aura about his own abilities washed over the pale sands and reflected the flickering flames in their eyes. In the distance, dust devils swirled, picking up flaming splinters and carrying them around the stone remains.

Outsides were riddled with cracks and missing shards of stone, the insides were burning to the ground. Tumbleweeds were alight as they sailed down the short dunes and off the edges of the islands, spreading the fires far below. Wood was still crackling and curtains and papers were still curling in on themselves. The stench of spilled blood and burning flesh rotted the air they breathed as the taste of bile sat on the tip of his tongue. They had just missed whoever did this, this just happened, and there wasn't a fleeing skyship or escaping dragon in sight. They disappeared into thin air.

"You don't get used to it." Sunburn strutted over the hot sands as he surveyed the area, protecting and somewhat blocking George's view with his bright red wing.

It was tough to hear him over the roaring fires and the hiss of cold water turning to steam. Double Trouble splashed small water spells wherever he could, not helping much, but right now, it was the best they could do. With their wings and giant masks, they tried to hide the disgusting crimson painting the highest dozen layers of sand. Their eyes had an emptiness like his Dad's friends from the military, all of those who went on more tours after him or started first, the eyes of those going through the motions; eyes blankly following their training despite how little it did to shield George and guide him to safety, even though they were headed for the heart of the catastrophe instead of an evacuation zone.

Sunburn was better at suffocating the biggest flame than George expected from a Fire Skylander; using his fire breath to compete with the flames for oxygen and fuel until they both died down, then teleporting in blasts of fire that dispersed the remnants as he chose a new fire to suffocate. His dashes, masked in fire, dragged the destruction with him as he leapt through and between windows and snuffed it out all at once with streams of flames. Light shockwaves shook the ruins he ended his extinguishes in as the air suddenly rushed back into the rubble and the bird took a deep breath.

Double Trouble's means were a bit more logical as he rode around the tragedy atop a thin, gleaming sheet of water and burped up a bunch of small copies of himself that slid over the fire on their own puddles. The landlocked waves turned hues of light pinks and translucent reds as they washed the sand, leaving it maroon-stained and muddy. Twin sprays of water poured constantly from the green orb at the tip of the wooden, dragon claw-shaped scepter clasped tightly and steadily in his light blue hand. The spell repeatedly locked onto new fires as they finished putting out one ruin.

George did his best to keep pace, though he lacked the lifelong practice of his escorts. He protected his boots with a coating of clean sand, as clean as it could be when smothered in ashes, and treaded the bloodstained dunes before similarly smothering the fires. Even with 'purified' sand clinging to the bottom of his very thick soles, just being near the smeared blood was an intrusion shivering up his spine. In his mind, he might as well have been stepping over unmarked graves. Dust gathered around his pipe and solidified into jagged crags, giving it the general silhouette of a baseball bat. Someone could still be here, someone could be watching them sort through the wreckage in vain, someone could be pointing a weapon at them.

He lifted a hand, drawing a cloud of reddened sand and rubble into the air. The sandstone dissolved with a snap of his fingers like blasts of flak, pushing away the thick smoke clogging their lungs and stinging their eyes; the smoke was what stung their eyes. A light covering of sand partially protected his clothes and skin from the rippling heat and reality around him and the Skylanders distorted as he manifested radiant orange suits of armor around them. It did little more than paint George tan with an amber filter and cover their scute, water, and shoe-protected feet from the shards of rock, but it was the best he could do.

The Portal Master was saddled with the role of transporting Double Trouble and himself to alternate islands once Sunburn made sure the coast was clear, gradually putting out the fires one by one. There were some buildings the Skylanders made him steer clear of, very clear, the only ones that didn't have massive red paths coming from their doors and especially reeked of char and vomit. Those were, thankfully, few and far between, if any of this could be twisted into a blessing.

Eon had dropped them off in the center of the disaster and they worked their way up, Sunburn mentioned stopping more tumble weeds and the burning ruins of the many villages' many docks raining down on the lower islands. He waved his pipe like a sword scattering puffs of sand over the burning debris and dissolving rocks on top of the stone fire pits. The top island took the longest to halt the fires, on account of being the largest, and it looked like every single blood trail led back to the furthest side of the pear-shaped landmass.

Other than a bunch of large snake scales, there was nothing beyond that. It hadn't been clear what was done with the bodies on the lower sections, but that was hardly a surprise to him when island hopping without balloons or wings or portals seemed impossible, yet everything seemed to lead to this spot and vanish. The red roads stopped, the scales were abandoned in some small, disorganised piles, the light footprints lost in the changing motions of the sand circled the spot, and there was nothing to catch on fire; the attackers wouldn't want anything burning around them as they... did whatever this was.

"Any ideas?" He asked the Skylanders without turning around at the wreckage.

"We were gonna ask you the same thing." Sunburn hummed, audibly just as flabbergasted by the sheer nothingness staring back at them. There weren't even a ton of islands in the distance for someone to hide, nothing on those isles for them to hide behind, and certainly no ships or balloons for them to be making their getaways with.

George hummed in thought, gazing out at the empty horizon as if the answer was gonna jump out at him. "...Maybe..."

"Anything's better than nothing, Portal Master." Double Trouble encouraged.

"What if it was a portal? Or teleportation?" He offered.

"You'd be better at checking for that than either of us." The phoenix nodded toward the empty spot.

"I'm really not." George finally turned around to insist, regretting it instantly.

Double Trouble blocked his view with his big wooden mask. "Here, just think back on all those portal books and equations." He offered the Portal Master his wooden staff. "You must've made a portal by now, right? How did it feel? How did the energy flow through you and the spot you created a portal? If they're teleporting around, than what's left of the rift can't have stitched together, not yet."

The tiki didn't let go of the scepter as he pointed the bright green orb at the blank spot, whispering some minor tweaks to his form and stance, constructively criticizing the way he focused and drew power from his core. 'Don't just draw from your heart, every part of your body is a symbol, every part is a source, you need to remember what each means and how and when to add it to your rift' he muttered. Unfortunately, George had never been the spiritual type and leaned on the Magic Skylander for a lot of the internal rift navigating.

Like grass and mud, the bright green orb gained a series of brown swirls. It bubbled like a lava lamp and the wood vibrated in his sand-covered hand like a bolt of lightning burrowing into the soil through a grand tree. Space shook like silent thunder and the crags about his pipe grew, glowing bright orange and hissing like an hourglass as a swirl of ethereal dirt coated and washed off the stones, not one adding weight to the pipe as they grew and shifted.

Reality formed a mirage as summoned soil and rocks mixed with levitating sand around the spot, directly behind where the bloody paths and swept-up scales ended. The snake scales got caught in the Earth's dance around a rapidly growing rip. A gust like the middle of a hurricane swept through the sand, soil, and stones' prison. The bright wisps of freely flowing wind pressed against the Portal Master and tiki's confines, uncontainable, but the Earth was resilient. Fog darkened and crackled with flashes of steely blue static in the center of the soil, sand, pebbles, and hopelessly trapped scales. Blood rained throughout the poor containment just before the winds, the physical manifestation of the rift, rocketed upward out of the rock cage.

George wrapped himself and the Skylanders in a pyramid of large, flat brown rocks drawn up from the depths of the island. Their tips were stained with red and their outsides snapped and tremored as bolts of lightning and rushing winds slammed against the barrier. Sunburn and Double Trouble acted before the stones even reached their ankles. The bird covered both of them with his flaming wings right after the sorcerer spat out a pair of mini clones between the rock shield and trio.

It ended as soon as it began. The Air just wanted out, it wanted free, and it dispersed with as great of speed as it did power. Technically George hadn't stopped the rush, just deflected it skyward, much to the side of a distant island's dismay. Red sand descended upon the group, superheated like a bunch of burning glass shards. He covered them in an orange dome. It didn't need to be condensed and sturdy enough to block anything, just brush off the melting pebbles tapping against its surface. The mix of Earth and Fire felt a bit weird to will off the top of the shield, the very distracting scent of burning ozone and magma didn't help George's case while the shield lowered. Other than many white lines like jetstreams and the occasional fading spark of electricity, nothing else had been caught in the rift's eruption.

"I, uh, I think we know what happened..." George huffed. His heart was racing and his hair was standing on end. The cracks in his stone shield were slowly mended by the extreme heat that'd been driven directly into them in an instant. His breathing felt hot and sharp like shards of superheated glass were invading his lungs, but they were noticeably unexploded.

"Yeah..." Sunburn agreed breathlessly.

Double Trouble's staff returned to normal as his big green eyes blinked at the sky in utter, wordless disbelief. "...Finish putting out the fires on the lower islands, I'll update Master Eon."

-<🌀>-

How can you be sure?

There's no mistaking it, Master Eon, it wasn't even active, nothing else could've made a rift like that.

Eon confirmed with Double Trouble a couple more times before he was willing to end the communion. A brutally appropriate wind chill ran through his office and brushed aside some papers as he painfully scooted away from his desk and forced himself to stand like he was lifting a bag of bricks. Cement had been poured over his legs as he walked around the table and weaved around the gaps in the floor. The breeze whistled through his beard and flapped about his robes as he headed for the balcony.

Fire was ever populous, the bastion against the cold peaks of Cat's Eye, and Undead was quiet as usual. Water was cold and tense, even with the heated land right beside it and the deathly still trees on its other flank. Magic was unsteady but slow, tight and darting about the broken island. Tech's machinations continued as usual, clicking and whirring with the work left in the revelation's wake while Earth breathed lowly, missing its Portal Master.

And it wasn't the only one.

Air held its breath as his light blue eyes landed on the currents. The Skylanders and Initiates beneath him could feel it, he could feel their eyes drifting up to the looming Portal Master, though the Air section felt like it was far above Master Eon. His helmet weighed heavily on his neck and sweat dripped down his palms as he gripped the railings for support and leaned over the edge. His Students, his Cadets, his Neophytes, his Protophytes, his Aspirants were all walking and studying and living their normal lives away from their families as they put in all the extra effort and took all the extra steps to become Skylanders; all were blissfully unaware, and he would try to keep it that way for a little while longer, let them be happy and worry only about their studies.

Not worry about George not being the only Portal Master Kaos dragged to Skylands.

Not worry about the sudden spree of seemingly random attacks on distant villages.

Not worry about the lack of any raiders.

Not worry that Kaos was far too self-aggrandizing to let his involvement in such atrocities go unnamed.

Not worry that someone else got to the Air Portal Master before the Skylanders did.

No, this wasn't their fight, not yet. There was still so much ahead of them, still so many chances for them to change their minds and set their lives on paths that didn't require them to sacrifice everything. This isn't their fight, some of them might not even make it to the Final Trials, let alone the front lines against a Portal Master who was clearly progressing far faster than George.

"Master Eon?" Hugo walked up behind the old man.

So much time had passed since another of his kind had appeared, so much time since Kaossandra and the Light Eater, now they were facing the exact same problem as ages ago. It made the words come out hoarse and low. "Hugo, old friend." His greeting rasped.

The Mabu shrank at the wizard's broken voice, but steeled himself quickly enough when he had something important to do and there weren't any sheep around. "T-The Stormy Stronghold revealed they have an Eternal Air Source at the core of their fortress, but they're using its power to defend themselves from Kaos's forces until the Skylanders arrive to collect it."

Of course everything was about Air, now. Fate was a cruel mistress. "Sending the Dread-Yacht would be too obvious. How strong is the storm?"

"Cali's already done most of the math. A hot air balloon with a Golden Propeller would fly under the radar, but the closest one is built into one of Kaos's warships-"

"Is it on course to the Stronghold?" Eon whirled around.

"Not yet, but Thrillipede said it looked like an assault was being prepared, a hunting formation." Hugo confirmed the worst.

"Naturally." Eon sighed. "Send him clearance to engage the warship, I shall send Stormblade and the Sky Slicer to aid him shortly."

"Understood!" Hugo turned, stopped, and faced the Portal Master again. "And I can handle a few more pages of the Academy's finances, if you need me to. My next session isn't for another few hours."

"Thank you, Hugo." Eon smiled before the Mabu departed.

Lately, it felt like the work of a Portal Master was never done. At least Spyro and the rest of the Skylanders could take care of themselves.

-<🌀>-

His head had been spinning for a little while, the stabbing pain behind his eye didn't help, but he was more than capable of pulling it together long enough to welcome Elfie home. That wouldn't be for a while, though, he had about an hour and nothing else to work on before dealing with this.

A carefully crafted, blood red chalk spell circle mixed with the Undead scale paste and lined with candles crafted from the boiled down flesh of the Dark Master was smeared perfectly evenly across the bland stone walls. What time wasn't spent reviewing rituals and bodily enchantments in the blissful silence of the Magic library's secret section was spent on Creation Crystal remodels and tests while exchanging notes with Cynder. The candles were lit by dim orange flames littered with streaks of deep purple. Whether the strikes of Dark violet were from the curses littering the room or Malefor's materials was beyond him, he'd done quite well in his Undead studies once he matured out of the revulsion to death but that still left a few of the basics foggy in the back of his preoccupied mind.

Not a single sound penetrated the spell circle and scroll-lined walls, he'd made sure he had enough silencing scrolls before he entered. Spyro's footsteps and breathing were muffled and muted by the haze of magic as he carefully eyed the most vital parts of the ritual and scattered, glued-down scroll papers. Once his final checks were completed and several day of work and savings were spent on all the paper and items, she stepped into the center of the ring.

With his presence and will, the Undead and Magic sigils silently hummed to life. The waxes and pastes hissed and crackled, releasing crimson embers and igniting the scrolls. Spyro swiftly slid his talons into a series of marble rings melded into the floor, uncomfortable, but enough to stop his paws from slipping out of place. The scroll papers completed the rings and triggered different parts of the sacrifice as needed, all on extremely specific delays so he could focus on grounding himself in position. His tail flicked in anticipation and wings fidgeted relentlessly. One wooden block in between his jaws and his final claws were ready to dig into the specifically measured grips.

Red sparks and agony shot up his pearly claws like his bones were being dipped in acid, the strands of flesh were being individually peeled off his body, and his scales were turning to dust. His claws glowed brighter, suddenly igniting with bright flames as sickly black smoke, erratic embers, waves of heat, and jets of energy blasted out of the Elemental Paragon's jaws. His lower jaw and the bones of his snout felt ready to shatter into a million pieces, snap into fine dust and flutter away, but all that broke was the wooden block. It burst into flames, blackened, filled with searing orange and red light, and started dividing the streaks of flame blasting through his lungs and throat in many directions before it turned to ash and his fangs slid together like blades.

Oranges, yellows, faint blues, and especially painful reds flashed through his fangs, claws, and the tips of his wings. Their iridescent pearl surfaces shimmered like the surface of bloodstained water. All at once, he couldn't feel anything, yet was drowning in the sensation of every individual nerve firing all at the same time, sending signals of such strength they shouldn't have been capable of. Fire continued pouring from the depths of his maw and blasting out of his talons, growing brighter and hotter. Though the sound was gone, the ground shook with the power of the dragon and ritual circles. Ever symbol climbing up the wall was warping and melding into the rest of the arcane circuit. His ribs were contracting over his heaving lungs and thundering heart.

The cores of his fires gradually gained a deep, suffocating blackness as his Magic Skylander tattoos flashed with gray skulls, but his cold cyan eyes were too tightly shut to process anything. Even the insides of his eyelids were nothing to him through the Soul-cracking pain. Tears leaked through the seal and boiled away instantly. The flipped-over alchemy tables jammed against the shelving units trembled like his voice as a silent scream rippled through his entire body with force that pressed against the walls like the howls of a vicious dragon many times his size.

Fire passively burned away the silencing spells after the ritual was complete. It filled the room with a light layer of smoke that drifted in and out with Spyro's labored breaths. He'd neglected to check the time before performing the miracle, nor did he know how long he was there for, but he didn't have the strength to force himself up for a few seconds after the chime of the doorbell rang, anyway. Stinging needles trailed the illusion of dripping blood across his claws as they pathetically dragged across the floor. He couldn't even stand without coiling his tail like a snake and shoving his body around with all six limbs.

This was necessary, it was necessary. He could handle it, he was a Magic Skylander handling Undead power, he was built for this, he was trained for this, he was born for this. Blood for fuel, pain for power, scales as sacrifice, tendons as ties. Every single part, every single gunshot going straight through his body, had a purpose. Its place was important. The magic hadn't even settled and he could already feel how much easier his talons glided through the thin air and watched them effortlessly scratch grooves into the tile through his blurry amber eyes. Undead demanded sacrifice, Undead was sacrifice, pain and blood, flesh and scales. He'd be fine after a day, anyway, then he could work on his fire breath. Unless he was deployed somewhere, but only then could it wait.

His breathing caught in his raw throat for a second, it muffled the distant voices coming through his door. Eruptor was asking about Stealth Elf's trip and lightly pressing for details on the ninja clans, she answered vaguely and briefly, just enjoying being back, but a lot of it was lost on Spyro. He needed to get himself together before he could greet her, his strength was slowly returning and increasing. The aches and daggers piercing his bones didn't fade, but he was stumbling more than a few inches off the ground. Come on, it's just like molting.

The dragon started by fetching an illusory scroll. His makeup had been carefully applied and the paint had been brushed over his ridges and reapplied multiple times, each ending with a peek in the mirror, much to his empty stomach's dismay. Scratch's ring's magic had been more useful than he expected; he didn't have anything to throw up when he looked through that awful glass plane, not anymore. Even the gel through his frill was expertly smoothed out, you couldn't even tell it was there without the shine. All done with full knowledge he wouldn't be able to when the ritual was completed.

He wasn't about to let a flaw or smear give him away, though, he just needed it polish his movements while he interacted with Elfie and Eruptor. He'd crash on his bed after that. Covering his bases, he got a minor voice hex. Usually, they were just for when he was sick or his throat had been ripped out by his own shouts (which they were right now, honestly, but that was aside the point), though he could use one to even out his voice while he asked her how the trip was.

Maybe she wouldn't like that, though. She didn't usually write letters to him that much, certainly not with that many details. Elfie had practically told him what she did every day. And the curse was still a bit concerning, he didn't want her tree getting wrapped up in whatever infected her forest. Eon had plans for everyone, though, and Skylands always came first. With any luck, he and Eruptor could come with her next time! But only if they were lucky. Elfie was a private person and they wouldn't blame her for a second if she wanted to keep her forest hidden for as long as she could.

She was looking around the living room when he dragged himself out of his room, unfortunately unable to see how repaired his image had been, even if he could stomach a mirror right now. She'd already let her hair down, it was trailing across the new carpet and pristine floor as she quickly searched for her favorite TV channels... which solely consisted of that ninja tournament show but she did it. There was a bit more bounce in her step than normal and she wasn't as instinctively obsessive about keeping silent, details only he and Eruptor were familiar enough with the Forest Elf to notice. And notice they did, both had a pained smirk and wide smile over their faces as she explored her new house.

Her ear flicked a split second before she turned around, one of his paws thudded atypically heavily on the first step. "Hey!" She waved and teleported to the top of the stairs.

"Welcome home." He greeted, then blinked as she expectantly stared. "You opened your gift!"

Despite the fire through his legs and along his wings, Spyro circled and bounded around Elfie like a puppy, bombarding her with questions about its fit and colors. It already took forever to sort through his shed scales just to find the strongest, paint them the exact same shade of black with the exact same amount and thickness of layers, and arrange them just right to fit her. The lack of coverage of her gut still made him clam up, but Elfie needed freedom of movement. It was much more convenient for him to shout at himself that she's an evader, not a defender, than for Elfie to work through an extra few panels. That, and that it'd be easily covered by defensive enchantments.

Still, despite the abundant flaws in the scales' lengths, widths, and paints of all his old scales, she insisted the whole outfit and weaponry were perfect. Somehow, she didn't notice the millimeter taken off one of the scales above her wrist because it kept grinding against the back of the hand plate or the uneven widths of the scales lining her skirt. But he knew, he was frustratingly familiar with how malformed the holes in their bases were because no needles were strong enough to penetrate his hide, let alone his plating, and his claws were too big to make a small incision without lying there forever, twisting his thumbs and pointer claws like drills.

"Seriously, Sy, it's great!" She insisted through a small giggle. Her dull eyes glinted their bright white cores like guiding lighthouses.

She just wanted to make him feel better, 'don't look a gift sheep in the mouth.' "I know, I know, I just want to make sure everything's right."

"It's more than right, Py-Py" She assured.

A shudder ran through his spine and he almost gagged. "You said you'd never call me that again."

"But you heard what I said, this time." She visibly stifled a chuckle. He could see the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes while her smile was covered. "Seriously, thank you."

She awkwardly leaned forward to wrap her arms around all four of his shoulders. The tips of his wings dug through the carpet like rakes and his joints felt ready to give. Once the shock wore off, he had to strain to lift his burning arms to try returning the gesture. It was over so quickly that he and Eruptor didn't have time to register Stealth Elf was giving someone, anyone a hug. She rubbed the side of her head and her ears were unaligned in her confused look, one dagger-like ear was raised and the other droopy.

"I think something poked me." Elfie mumbled.

He thought for a second as Eruptor eyed him suspiciously, then lightly lifted a shaking paw to brush through his frill. Their white and yellow eyes went wide.

"THOSE WERE QUILLS THIS WHOLE TIME!?" Elfie grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Y-Yeah?" He looked to Eruptor for a hand magma blob.

"I thought it was the same stuff as your wings." The Lava Elemental shrugged unhelpfully.

"I-I mean, some of it's fur, I just gel it together. Makes everything look more coherent." Spyro wriggled out of Stealth's hands.

"Coherent?" Elfie raised a brow. There had to be so much crap in that frill and now that she knew it was supposed to be as fluffy as her hair, she'd never unsee it.

"It blends in with my wings and spine better." He repeated.

"That doesn't make it look..." She tried not to sound insulting. "...good"

"Come on, it's not that bad and I'm happy with it." Spyro defended himself.

"Are you?" Eruptor added like he didn't believe the dragon he'd spent the majority of their life and foreseeable future with.

"How about we finish moving in and figure out what we want to do with the last room?"

"Training area." All three of them mumbled at once, it reverberated throughout their new home.

At least they shared a chuckle, though one voice was mixed with a pained hiss as the burning from the insides of his scales to his bone marrow flared. This wasn't so bad. Together, maybe they could even gain some ground at the Mabu and Troll fronts.

-<🌀>-

"I must say, sir, you sure know where to find the best chickens." Glumshanks wiped his mouth on an overly fancy napkin and patted his stomach.

"I suppose being a Portal Master gives me a bit of an advantage." The Dark Lord flaunted as he drank from a wine glass filled with apple cider. "Besides, Greebles can make anything grand if you bash enough of their heads together."

A nice fireplace full of self-sustaining purple and orange flames softly crackled their warm light over the dining room and rich wooden table, also recently stolen. Kaos and the troll fed themselves with silver cutlery upon excessively ornate plates while the purple Greebles in question jeered and bashed each other over the heads with high-end pots and pans in the background.

"Where'd you get so many of them, anyway? I thought we were laying low for a week." Glumshanks gathered his and Kaos's silverware before it levitated towards the lightweight chrome kitchen doors atop a violet cloud.

Kaos shrugged off the question. "I found a deal in Minions Monthly. I'm having them speed up the Lair's remodelling while my Trolls get in position." He turned to a dark corner, where one of the guards stood silently. An animated suit of dragon-slayer's armor. Its steel plates squeaked metallically as it nodded and stomped away for an update. "Mother," He spat. "Has been trying to keep me locked away in her fortress while everything dies down, but she just wants to get to the Core of Light first."

"Still, she might have a point. Master Eon and the Skylanders won't take this lightly." Glumshanks offered.

"All the more reason to act swiftly, they can't be everywhere at once and I already have the location of the Eternal Sources of Air and Water. I've equipped an airship with a Golden Propeller as a dreadnought for the Stormy Stronghold assault." He boasted with an ego far bigger than his height and smacked open a pair of wooden doors, stepping out to a balcony overlooking a massive landscape of freshly cut grass and small, abandoned sheep farms with freely roaming livestock. Dense red and purple clouds and haze loomed over the isles with beams of golden light lapping at the edges. "Lovely weather for an invasion, don't you think?"

"I think the troops will love it, sir." Glumshanks nodded and leaned against the railing. "But what if something happens to the warship?"

"It won't be alone, just the main vessel drawing fire and hitting points of interest while other airships drop off their soldiers. If anything goes wrong, the Skylanders will still be scrambling for someone to steal the Air Source." Kaos smirked.

"Scraping the bottom of the barrel?" He guessed.

"As far as Skylanders go, I'll give them that much." Kaos hummed somewhat contentedly as a gentle breeze ran through the floating castle. His face slowly grew into a scheming grin. "And I think I know just who Eon will send..."

-<🌀>-

The Buzz Wing's side engines and four thin wings stalled momentarily as Thrillipede slowed, coming to a cruise beside Stormblade's beloved Sky Slicer. Slow as far as the lark would go, at least. Between the distance and their speed, there was no way anyone from the spawning Chompies to the large turrets had an eye on the Skylanders getting a good look at the fleet of blimps, cluster of islands, and all their weaponry.

She was, admittedly, one of his favorite teammates. A Supercharger with the same bond with their vehicle as he and the Buzz Wing was hard to come by; she, Nightfall, and Spitfire were some of the only contenders off the top of his antennae. There was a disappointing gap between those who adored the products of the Rift Engines with or without their power and those who were skilled in handling them. In a distant, out of the corner of his eye kind of way, he could see what Nightfall saw in her, if not the other way around.

The sai-shaped ship's three points and the narrow fins about the jets sparked with lightning like the wings of his fighter as she excitedly leered at the target islands. Trails from the shark teeth lining the engine's frame whistled as she remembered one of her gadgets and clicked a button on her side facing the island. A small mechanical system folded upward while he fetched his old-fashioned, old reliable telescope. Her tech had a complex system meant to make a set of lenses track her eyes pointed over his head and fluffy pilot coat, something she spent an unnecessary amount of gold on because her head and eyes flicked back and forth far faster than her hands, and a pair of binoculars, could keep up with. She didn't have the attention span to handle anything lesser.

"THERE!" She yelled over the rushing winds and pointed, as if the island was close enough for pointing to help him.

He managed to spot the dreadnought swiftly, Golden Propeller included, once she called some basic directions over their comms. "Good eye!" He smiled and produced a brass cocoon grenade from within one of his four sleeves.

She did the same with a long blade from within her steel-tipped feathers, splitting it into three daggers with a click of her talons. "TRY TO KEEP UP, OLD MAN!"

"Do you have any idea how many Greebles I've shot down, youngin'?" He teased back, but she was already revving her Rift Engine.

Both of their Superchargers roared to life, distorting space behind them as they rocketed through the Skylands, behind some very distant isles in their target ship's blindspot, and gunned it for its engines while blasting bug missiles and whistling daggers into the flanking airships. The shocked shouts and pained yelps of the Drow crew were lost on the winds, even if the Skylanders were close enough to hear them. Stormblade did a barrel roll over Thrillipede's ship and shot ahead, putting several shots into the elite ship's starboard dragonwing rudder while he diverted his fire to the island's turrets.

Cannonballs shot over their heads, but they came in too low for the cannons to get the right angle, only the turrets he prevented anyone from manning could line up a shot. She had a clear shot into its stern, but continued driving blades into its steering. He joined her in turning their ships sideways; she was a Supercharger, she was born for this, she had a plan. The Buzz Wing was forced to peel off the charge as they approached. The Sky Slicer stayed the course, suddenly flipping upside-down at the last possible second so the crook of the wing and sharp cockpit caught on the right rudder's core.

While enchanted, it was still just wood with a few metal braces, the sheer amount of knives driving into the wing's length and the speed of the Slicer easily cleaved thatch from bark; the skill of the pilot was plenty to avoid the titanium reinforcements, scrape the starboard side on the way past the lines of cannons and archer posts, and dip down before anyone on board could spot and keep track of her. There were tons of eyes on the millipede, though, just how he liked it.

Before he was a Supercharger, it might almost be a fair dogfight!

Chapter Text

King Pen still couldn't keep track of how often he was called away from his favorite ice island. The thick white feathers over his feet had again grown unused to relatively warm cobblestone and the walls holding back the chilly breeze from filtering through his white belly and black feathers. His black, gold-trimmed armor slid as quietly as the Senseis Barbella, Tri-Tip, Mysticat, Wild Storm, Pit-Boss, Ro-Bow, Starcast, and Aurora stood about Master Eon's desk. Even Sensei Ambush had appeared from his undisclosed forest hideaway, Sensei Tidepool ceased going out on repeated missions to stand with them, and Elite Chop Chop joined the famed teachers.

The many plates of his wing blades, black and decorated with wavy golden lines topped by large, golden edges from the tip of his flippers and black strap to atop his black and gold shoulder plates, clicked together as he crossed his flippers. Their lightly serrated end blades gently whistled as they waited for the Portal Master to manifest. Their golden belts, the gold Water emblem on his chest plate, and the gold crown atop his brow and the blue hair built into the top glistened and reflected the wizard's bright cyan light. The ground trembled and space rippled around the old man's sudden entrance. He was levitating a fair distance above the ground as he unfolded his legs to stand, having warped to them in the middle of meditation.

A deep, heavy breath escaped Eon's chest before the obviously forcefully projected voice of the grand man who witnessed their talents and uplifted them all. He looked like he'd aged a millennium in just a few hours, tired and wrinkled. His light blue eyes were downcast and his lips were tightly shut, more than enough to outline the tension in his jaw. They almost heard it crack as he forced it to open and arcane words as old as time poured out.

"Skylanders, I'm afraid I bring terrible news."

"Kaos has the map to the Core." Aurora finished with some masked irritation, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed and the pommel of one of her golden blades idly balanced on her fingertip.

Sensei Ambush nodded in agreement. "I was informed by a student before arriving."

"Yes, our mission to protect the Core of Light have become more... complicated." Eon strained to say. "But that isn't why I've sent for you."

He idly began to pace towards the balcony, giving the penguin a solemn nod as he passed between King Pen and Mysticat. The Sensei shared a look as they and Chop Chop followed. "Most of you have already been informed of the appearance of a Portal Master of the Earth Element, George, the Shield of Terra." Eon stated as he lifted his head towards the Skylands, the ticking of the Tech isles and the crackling power of Magic's amorphous mass. The wizard blinked for an unnaturally long time as he glossed over the constant whirling of the Air Element and opened them to the center of the rock and shifting sands.

"He, Sunburn, and Double Trouble were sent to investigate one of many devastating raids on a series of islands and discovered the remains of a powerful rift, one not even a Portal of Power could create by itself." Eon admitted. "Someone is preventing me from divining them, and I don't have hair or scraps of clothing to scry against them, not effectively enough to breach their or their guardians' veil. The only information I've been able to discern is they are only of the Air Element, the Treasure House of Knowledge."

He finally turned to face his Sensei and Elites, all standing at attention with a mix of silent indifference, determination, and a feigned lack of judgement (although it came solely from the Light Sensei) "I bring this to you in trust; I don't wish to worry the Initiates or other Skylanders just yet, there is already much on their minds with the breach of the Core and the rush for the Elemental Sources. We must wait until the time is right, when we're reunified."

Barbella swallowed and nodded stiffly with Tri-Tip, Stormblade, and Tidepool. Ambush, King Pen, Ro-Bow, Starcast, Pit-Boss, and Mysticat bowed with varying degrees of lively fluidity and mechanical steadiness. The Portal Master's niece and the final, non-Sensei Elite did no such thing. They stood with their chins and a slightly crooked nose turned up at Master Eon before they joined their comrades in filtering out of the room. 'The Treasure House of Knowledge.' Were they perhaps predicted by someone?

Maybe the Oracle had something to say about the new Portal Master's arrival, should they figure out how to make use of such foresight. But then again, the Oracle hadn't taken kindly to anyone seeking its wisdom for a long time. Can't be too careful. Nevertheless, it was the only other lead they had until the aeromancer could be tracked down and brought before the Trap Team. Starcast and Pit Boss summoned a giant shuriken to ride off the tower and transformed into a spectral snake to burrow away, respectively. Ambush and King Pen peeled away from the main group before the rest. Ro-Bow followed his favored path to the Tech islands shortly thereafter, but the spy, sphinx, and duelist remained beside the Earth masters and Elite.

"To the Crypts with that." Aurora finally growled. She lasted a lot longer than her allies expected. "Someone needs to know."

"They deserve to." The Ancient Arkeyan and Barbella criticized at the same time.

"I presume we'll be meeting George when he and the Skylanders return." Tri-Tip snorted, almost amused.

"What they don't know can't hurt them, not yet." Tidepool added.

"Says the secret agent." Aurora deflected.

"Eon didn't tell us in isolation for nothing." Mysticat backed the squid.

Chop Chop's brass chainmail clinked and scratched together as he barely turned his head to the pair. "That doesn't make a wise decision."

The sphinx sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while resting his weight against his staff. "At least be careful about who you tell, you don't know what ripples it could create."

"Neither does Eon." Aurora whined, but didn't oppose before Flash Dashing out a nearby window and parkouring across tiled rooftops towards her quarters.

-<🌀>-

"You're still thinking of it as static electricity, you won't get anything more than a hand buzzer that way." Cynder noted as tiny sparks leapt from the Portal Master's fingertips.

In the distance, far above their little operation and completely oblivious to it, the largest portal Eugenie had managed swirled counter-clockwise with a rim of heavy clouds and flashes of lightning, which she'd been trying to connect between her fingers for a few days now. It wasn't that Cynder wasn't a good teacher, there was just a lot of topics Eugenie was trying to juggle at the same time, she wasn't able to make much progress on any of them; skyships, aeromancy, portal magic, Undead rituals, necromancy, the whole shabang. She'd never gotten a bad grade before and she wasn't about to start.

"Focus on your Soul, focus your will. Which parts of you are the most important to creating a connection? And which ones do you need to generate energy?" Cynder encouraged.

Her voice may have been as raspy and low as it always was, but she could feel the way the dragon's breath caught on the back of her neck and felt the slicing of the tip of her tail swishing through the wind around her. Eugenie held her hands to the sides of the metal panel they were trying, or she was trying, to attach to the cylinder they'd constructed and bolted around the Sky Core. What did each finger mean again? Whatever, she was using the Air method of lightning magic, every finger acted as a fan.

She shut her eyes and slightly parted her index and middle fingers and hovered them over the metal. A rift, a tear of magic, opened deep in her chest and crackled through her body a lot less smoothly than wind and breath. Still, she fanned and cooled her body with her breathing. Antlers were a mark of attunment, receptors for energy, though she didn't have any, her hair would have to do. It stood on end with a haze of static. Hair was a projection of status or rebellion. Long hair flowed freely, tied up meant order, but lightning was wild and uncontrolled, never truly under the user's command. The best electromancers understood that genuine control was impossible.

It buzzed and crackled, glowing arcs jumped between strands and trailed down to her face, but she didn't focus those quite yet. The light burns along her hands and the fried nerves had been blown up enough. Cynder did her best to take away the current before it did any damage, but her hands still hurt like hell; she wanted to get the manual labor over with and return to her books quickly. The back was the load-bearing part of everything, the back was steady and hidden, the back handled the strain, and the back guided the electricity down to her feet. Bare feet meant a connection to nature and grounding, her sandals would have to be enough when she was standing over a bunch of rusted metal and nail-ridden dirt.

The lightning passed through her core and struck her heart on its way through the ground. The rift let the magic swell with power as her spirit free-fell through reality and back into it, drawing energy from everything and nothing while her heart, core of emotion and blood, slowed. Eugenie needed to be calm, she needed to be cold, handling lightning effectively had to be calculated and scientific. Her heart calmed and electricity crawled along the iron in her blood. She was steady, she was centered, she was certain.

Eugenie opened her eyes, the windows to truth and intention, and locked onto the seam between the panels. Her fingers pressed to the connection with conviction and direction, guiding intentions into the steel panels. She forced the tingle in her fingers together, snapping them and the relatively light burns into place like a flashlight flicking on. Cynder carefully adjusted the greatly tinted glasses on Eugenie's face and tangled in her hair as she changed the angle of the sharp tips of her wings beside the Human's hands.

Sparks flew between the metallic spikes and Jenny's hands as blinding light hissed across the metal. It began to ripple with heat and slowly turned red as she twisted her hands, facing the tips of her fingers together as her wind aura carried the intense thermal energy away from her body like personal ventilation. Light plasma connected her digits across the rapidly heating metal until the tip of the black dragoness's tail lightly tapped the side of her foot, signalling her to stop.

"It worked!" Eugenie flung off the glasses. It wasn't nearly as fast and pretty as Cynder's many examples, but it worked!

"You did it!" Cynder joined enthusiastically.

More and more ships drifted lazily through her massive portal in the sky, many dropping large amounts of debris and broken parts onto the existing towers of materials. Some of them were even dragging other ships bound together by chains and rope before one of the escorts at the front cut the threads, allowing them to plummet to the ground. They all looked to be of different origins, especially the easier-to-carve and detail wooden vessels, but all looked pretty nice compared to the ones they'd been salvaging from thus far and all would be fair game to weld and stitch together around Eugenie's Sky Core.

But until then. "I've taken three showers since we went to that forge and I still don't feel clean."

Cynder burst into laughter like a bunch of crumpling sandpaper, closing her eyes before the girl could see them flash violet with a message. "Get outta here, we still need to figure out a design, anyway."

"Where do you think you're going?" Eugenie chased the slithering dragoness.

"Just got something I gotta do for my Dad, it should only take a few hours." Cynder shrugged on their way to the portal platform.

"Oh! Where's it at?" She excitedly pressed and clapped her hands, making a muffled, thunderous quake and a contained rift between her palms.

"Classified." Cynder snarked before her eyes and head symbols flashed with psionics. Eugenie winced in confusion at the telepathic message before she put the pieces together. The coordinates were a few miles off of Cynder's actual target, but more than close enough to get there with a good degree of deniability.

Eugenie, once the black dragon stepped through the portal, concentrated on her own position. Her nails dragged through reality like knives tugging at the straps of a slingshot, then she willed the gravity around herself: a cannon with no gunpowder, and she the cannonball, steady at the mouth of a wormhole. Though her eyes saw only the rippling, desert mirage-like distortion as her powers effortlessly and mercilessly flayed time itself, her vision was unclouded.

From deep, deep in her steely blue Soul, a cyclone erupted like the crack of lightning split the veil between her and the universe and rolling thunder rippled out beside her. Roaring winds, in equal parts trying to stop her from going forward and pressing against the back of the cannonball like a growing blast, filtered through the scraps and sent debris flying around her. It swept old parts and clouds of dust into a whirlwind, every single one reaching to scrape rust and dull edges over her skin, but none able to, her aura swelled with power and her sight settled through the walls of ruins right before the portal platform.

She was there in a snap. Light and lightning gathered around her body as her bright blue eyes crackled with electricity and beamed like lighthouses in the storm. Her heart beat out of her chest and lungs swelled and contracted beyond their mortal confines. Eugenie's body twisted and stretched, yet remained completely the same as her space in Skylands 'updated' like she was flickering between a one and zero. The inside of her rift, inside of her, twisted and swirled within a dark hurricane littered with cyan light.

Eugenie landed before the platform with a crackle like a living lightning strike. Wisps of light, a gust of light gray air, a coil of winds around her, a tremor beneath her feet, the shaking of thunder, and a subtle shift of her wind aura smashed a shallow crater into her landing spot and fractured the rock and packed, dead dirt. Energy reactively shot though her limbs, tightened in her core, flared with her heartbeats and breathing, and followed her exhalations out of her body and internal rift. Light blue sparks buzzed through the different shades of white and sky blue air wafting out of her body like exhaust. The glows of her eyes only started fading as she finally approached the teleportation pad back to the village. Her portal business was doing fantastically!

-<🌀>-

SECTOR CLEAR - SHIFTING VISION RIGHT.

His Earthy brown forelimbs and their black claws dug through the sickly soil as the dragon patrolled the remains of an extremely old ruin. As one of the Skylanders who sought out Master Eon, he was far from one to shy away from unusual terrain. The stone was as old as it was mossy and wet, slippery and worn around the cracks; there weren't any hard edges to easily latch onto, though his wings easily made do with the tight spaces. This was among the least challenging areas he'd ever traversed, muddy trenches and volcanoes were hard to beat.

SECTOR CLEAR - SHIFTING VISION LEFT.

Within a crevice running through two or three islands (the similarities in soil makeup made it difficult to tell where each began and ended) he prowled through the thin fog and poor lighting of some form of lost fortress. Mossy walls dripping rainwater, fresh and cold rain pouring from the top of the conglomeration, and vines stretching between the barriers formed a tough-to-navigate canyon he was assigned to the middle of. Something was here, he'd found the unidentified energy readings to prove it and the approval from Master Eon to investigate, figuring out what remained the issue.

SECTOR CLEAR - SHIFTING VISION RIGHT.

While his internal CPU made it easy to make a small, minimally detailed map of his surroundings for the sake of finding his way to points of interest, locating the source of the disturbance became another issue. It might as well have been a game of chase, following the echoes of his vocal synthesizer through the cavernous fort's halls and crumbling support pillars. The majority of his body didn't exactly 'blend in' with the greens and grays around him, either. His thermal vision could pierce the fog and his power core kept him plenty warm, though. Counting your blessings was good for morale, or so his training stated.

SECTOR CLEAR - SHIFTING VISION LEFT.

The spinning and humming of his joint engines shifted with a change in pressure. He'd been sure to give them an automatic adjustment system for maximum efficiency no matter the conditions at the cost of some... miscalculations when a figure or non-breathable gas went through them; he hadn't patched it for good reason.

ANOMALY DETECTED - SHIFTING VISION REAR.

Darkness swelled and slid throughout the long-abandoned ruin. Shadows clung to the walls and expanded upward like smoke, slithering through the destruction against gravity and around the rubble. This fortress's design and location hid it from a lot of the fire and weathering that most other buildings from its era had already fallen to, but still left plenty of debris for the abyss to hide beneath and appear from behind. The reflections of water puddles and the greenish slick along the cobble and worn tiles were suffocated by the blackness and patches of moss began to wither. But he was no mere organic beast or flora like his opponent.

No matter what mystique the Dark Master tried to shroud his favored minion in, even the Terror of the Skies could be struck.

Is that what you think, little drone?

"Cease and desist immediately." Drobot ordered and redirected power from the sawblade launchers in his wings to his focus crystals. His afterburners didn't need to be all-powerful, either, just enough to keep him afloat; he redirected their energy to his shield generator. They were known for their lightning, shadow, and psychic magics, though were lacking in the physical front; Drobot was the perfect Skylander for this.

They ignored his command. Cute~ The Terror mocked. But you'd best stand down before someone gets hurt.

Drobot's only response was a warning shot, not even completely turning around to blast them. His bright red lasers left smoldering spots in the stone. The light of the beams and radiating heat before his enemy illuminated the glint of two, burning crimson eyes filled to the brim with such unbridled rage that some of his cogs and coils stalled and misfired. But he didn't budge, not until a bolt of lightning burst out of the black and violet smog. His burners shot him away from the small, weak strike. If that was the best lightning strike the Terror of the Skies had, then he was the Ice Queen.

Now now, there's no need for that. The soundless echoes carried through his mechanised mind. You shouldn't play with weapons, little rivette.

Drobot's fangs ground together and his core hissed, almost as insulted as he was, but he wouldn't let it show. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Oh, did I strike a nerve, little one? The disembodied chuckle could almost be heard through the dripping on cold stone remains and the pattering of rain. An irritated snarl escaped his mechanical jaws as he took another shot at the Darkness, watching it phase directly through the shadows as the black figure of a flat head with blazing red eyes and a pair of wings rushed across the ground.

Wailing ghosts crawled from the black line trailing his foe as they vanished into the shade. Spectral, skeletal hands grasped the edges of the floor and bony claws dug into the crevasses like climbers reaching over the peak of a cliff. Their heads were as pale and ghastly as they were caught tight over the shape of a skull with two long fangs and a sickly violet hue surrounding them. Drobot shot at the ghosts as they burst from the netherworlds and clawed their way towards the Skylander, a minor miscalculation as the two he hit square in the chests exploded in flashes of necrotic energies.

He took the slightest power away from his focus crystals and put it toward his burners, blasting right between the emerging ghosts and bathing them in flames. Their explosions covered his tactical retreat, or so he incorrectly deduced as a strike of lightning flashed through the puffs of ectoplasm. It hit him right in the gut, beneath his core and chestpiece, but his empowered shield held equally forcefully. But a set of Soul Knives shaped like hooks soared through the haze directly after, now that his shield had been weakened.

They slashed along his wings, flashing a damage report into his sensors as the tip of one flung over his wing and got stuck in the grooves of a shattered pillar. I've heard all about you, rivette. Not the friendliest Skylander around, are you? Someone should've taught you to play nice by now. They taunted as green necrosis fumed out of the seam, some translucent white hands gripped his joint and arkeyan metal panels. A throaty growl shook his repeatedly cut-open and stitched-together throat, making his vocal synthesizer produce a static-like buzz as he readjusted his afterburners' power towards his eyes and rocketed out of the lock. The hands silently shattered to dust like deathly cold snow.

Drobot fired several beams into the shadows from on high, but hit nothing; the Darkness was so dense they didn't show up on nightvision and they lacked a thermal signature. Another bout of laughed echoed around Drobot as he inverted the directions of his engines. He was flung into a rapid spin while blindly firing lasers into the fog and shadows. Superheated spots covered the walls and pillars, melted together parts of long cracks in the stone, and filled the ceiling and opening of the canyon with rising steam.

His engines flipped again to quickly slow him down as he diverted extra power to his shields. His scanners were going wild, bouncing off every surface, yet there was nothing. Long, tentacle-like arms tipped by clawed hands with equally long fingers and blades decorated palm to tip in sigils latched onto his legs and wrapped around his body. Three of them coiled over his green scales, brown limbs, and power core to attach to the tip of his right wing, grasp his snout, and drag their claws over his armored scalp. His wing bent and twisted, flinging him into a wall, but the hands didn't pull away as they were ground against the moss and rough rock.

Purple haze turned red as the shaded outline of a draconic head with a long neck and many horns, though he couldn't discern any details through the Darkness, none beyond their bloody red eyes. Drobot fired a saw blade from the crook of his free wing before they could follow up. The buzzsaw scattered sparks and damaged his left sensor, but not enough to keep him from firing down into the hands around his legs. Seemed partial ghosts or ethaeral projections didn't explode on contact, which was appreciated.

Aww, you think that was it?He gunned it down, predicting a lightning strike, but being met with more ghastly strikes. See-through skulls with angry eye sockets, their craniums too big to be trolls but their teeth to sharp to be elvish or Human, exploded beneath and in front of him. Trails of ectoplasm like the tendrils of the arms followed them while he rapidly took evasive maneuvers. The burst of lightning he'd anticipated flashed into the tip of a wing, sending him into an uncontrolled spin.

The skulls tore into his scales and Arkeyan armor and the markings over their foreheads gleamed with faint maroon light that ripped the breath from his lung and the fight from his Soul. He banished the effect with his inhibitors before he hit the ground, but the seizing of his organic muscles and stalling of his artifice had already commenced. Drobot hit the ground with a thud that cracked the stone and he slid along the water and moss, down a few ledges.

Gripping and slipping off the end of a platform, he managed to land on his feet in a puddle just below. His engines shifted and adjusted, they were following him down. Nauseating violet smog mixed with toxic green puffs oozed over the ends of the ruins, chasing him down to the next layer. A woosh behind him announced the coming of several ghosts. They appeared to be wearing heavy cloaks and dragging remembrances of weapons ranging from swift scythes to enormous hammers that ground down the cobble they lunged across.

Saws and lasers drove into their spectral bodies in an instant, he wouldn't be so easily overcome by a group of white robed reapers with no faces. Skylanders had to be prepared for ambushes by deceptively tough foes. They took more hits than he expected, but his calculations were correct in stating he didn't even need to change position to put the ghosts down. His claws skidded across the moldy bottom of the puddle as a small whirlwind of Darkness and bright green smoke riddled with plumes in the images of skulls came down on him and pressed against the walls.

The poison, as corrosive as it was noxious, started to close in as a pinkish dome appeared and shrank on him. That psychic wave faded fast, but the smoke was heavy and descended around his legs and the Darkness fell over the bronze crest of his helmet. He was forced to lock his jaw shut as gaseous green skulls wafted around him and a bright lime haze crawled up his body. His buzz saw power was sent to his shields just to keep the Dark from eating away at his vitality. Its orange surface shimmered and hissed at random points, but held.

Drobot still needed to breathe; one lung being modified didn't mean he was independent from respiration. Vents around his power core flicked open and began sucking in air through a filter. The efficiency still wasn't where he wanted it to be, but it would have to do until he could find time for tweaks. Whispers and choked chuckles circled the mechanical dragon, but he couldn't send power back to his saws without weakening his shield and life support.

Streaks of red shot back at the Dark and toxic fog, striking down ghosts before they could appear. Small but explosive spirits, disembodied maws and talons, a squad of all of them met his eyes and were gone in a blink. The large and resilient ghouls, however, remained just problematic enough to get a swing in right before they dispersed. The explosive ghosts weren't any help, their spirit-sucking blasts had no effect on their allies and the hammers were just big enough to reach him as the hands pulled him around.

His burners launched him out of the areas so his focal crystals could get the final shots off and resume holding back the onslaught. All the while, Drobot calculated and observed. All he needed was one slip-up, then he'd be the one who brought down the Terror of the Skies. That meant a raise, which meant more effective equipment, which meant a safer Skylands, which was his purpose. He would not fail when they were right in his grasp.

One of the scyuthe-weilding ghosts appeared, raising its weapon high. The white hood shifted enough to see the gray skull within the abyssal cloak and the torn, tattered robes fluttered in an imaginary breeze like flaring moth wings. It moved faster than the rest, carried by a psionic wave that drove back Drobot and left grooves in the rock at his feet. He wasn't pushed enough to be out of the way and his balance didn't allow him to dodge without falling over, so he attacked.

Several beams hit it in the chest, but a spell circle blocked many of them. The scythe came down on his head, Drobot reared up on his hind legs and fired up his engines. His organic legs didn't have the strength of his mechanics, but they could grasp and redirect the blade enough for his burners to do the rest. Spectral sword met dragon claws as his hind legs slid against the stone and moss, a psychic shimmer lined the weapon and pressured his shielding without progress on either side, especially frustrating for Drobot. The blue tip of his tail scratched and stabbed the far wall as they wrestled.

Eventually, his lasers broke the barrier and gouged the spirit's eye sockets. Darkness and deathly gray smoke fumed out of its hood as the poison and shadows started seeping through the cracks in his shield about his paws. It didn't stop him from finishing off the spirit. Hands grabbed him by the ankles and tugged at his wings while the smaller ghosts closed in and scratched at his armor, not nearly strong enough to deal damage, but they weren't trying to cut him open.

Nothing without your augments, are you? The ghosts hovered too close to the limbs for him to shoot them off, it'd just blow up in his face. Still, technologically inclined as he was, he was a dragon. His claws tore through the spiritual hands much more restrictivly than the piercing blasts could. Not very effective, but he was cutting himself free and his tail was able to shove away the spirits while taking control of the situation-

A flash of green and a puff of smoke burrowed into his side. Sparks like flint and steel flew across his body. His shield gave wayt, his vents and filter were destroyed in an instant. Smoke skulls curled and into the openind, directly into his body as his shield failed and Darkness curled around and sapped the strength from his body. He rocketed between the ghosts and rising shadows, whipped around, and shot at the specters before they could give chase. The explosions covered the walls in venomous green light and parted the fumes.

FOREIGN BODY DETECTED - ADMINISTERING COUNTERMEASURES

The Terror of the Skies's shadow and red eyes loomed over the ruins as his legs buckled. It'd already gotten through his body, his suit sealing the breach did nothing. Drobot landed on the side of his body that'd been stabbed, allowing the intact vent to keep drawing air without unlocking his jaw and taking in more poison. There we go, rivette. You didn't have to make this so difficult. Cyan streaks and strikes of electricity bounced across the walls and their shaded horns, illuminating nothing through the dense Darkness as the plasma carried down the falling water and through the puddles.

Electricity hissed and buzzed through Drobot's body while he tried to reactivate his engines. Blinding lightning poured from the shadow's jaws, blasting apart his wing. The panels slid over their frames and mounts, the engine caught fire, and the metal around his wing joint contorted and rended like he was caught in industrial machinery. His muscles kept seizing and his upgrades were fried.

CARDIAC ACTIVITY INSUFFICIENT - DIVERTING POWER TO LIFE SUPPORT
RESPIRATION INSUFFICIENT - ADMINISTERING 02 MICROCANISTER
MEDICAL HIBERNATION IMMENENT - ACTIVATING AUTOMATIC SOS

A cylinder in his bronze crest slid apart with a click and lightly splashed the puddle. A tiny, painted black antennae slid out of the cavity and extended a short distance away from his head.

It's been a grand time, rivette, but I have places to be.

"Reading you loud and clear, Skylander, Camo on the way."

Chapter Text

She'd just left Maria to draw in front of some morning cartoons while she made some breakfast, just some eggs with pepper and a sprinkling of cheese. Some of her little girl's drawings had already been put on the fridge by her Father. Many of them were the usual flowers and animals she spotted in the garden, a couple of deer and more than a few different patterns of butterflies, but there were some more crayon and colored pencil drawings of those stylized, blue-skinned Doctor Strange and white-eyed Godzilla figures.

There were only three of them, but they all slightly increased in detail with every iteration. The mutated lizard had three claws on each paw and a horn as tall as its head in one artwork, the horn had a subtle curve and a notch in the back in the next, then it sprouted a pair of strange, almost feathery wings at the same time as the wizard's robes and purple staff gaining more details. George would've been so proud of her. The eggs started to burn and she hastily scooped them onto a plate before they blackened. Why did everything have to remind her of him?

She brought one plate right to Maria, who happily ate her cheesy eggs while the doorbell rang. Her hair was a little bit disheveled and a bead of sweat dripped down her face, but it only took a second to appear presentable and adjust her button-up before she opened the door. One of George's friends was on the other side. His short, dark brown hair drooped over his round black glasses and dark blue, almost purple eyes. His brows were thin and his normal, polite smile was in a slight frown. He had on a gray hoodie, black shorts, black shoes, and was carrying around a blue duffle bag covered in Oceanography patches, pins, and many keychains of ocean animals like whales, sharks, and some old Norse sea serpents.

"Good morning, Oscar. Is everything okay?" She greeted.

He politely waved and forced a small smile. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he searched for the right words. "I-I... where... G-Good morning, Miss Smith. H-Has..."

She took pity on him. "There's no news about George, honey... Is your Dad on your case about joining the soccer team again?"

Oscar's shoulders sagged and he looked to the side. "A little..."

"I made some eggs, would you like to come in?" She offered.

-<🌀>-

"Stop scratching your back with my arm!" Eugenie whined.

Cynder waved around a pair of golden rods paired to the base of a skeletal hand. Many lines of magic and arcane symbols were carefully etched into the surface of each bone and some fine copper chains trailed from the wrist and elbow. "What, you mean this?" She teased and returned to dragging the pointed fingers along her jagged spine.

Piles of bright white bone decorated with some black markings of basic Undead magic and labels clattered together as she tried again and again. It'd been a few hours, then a couple more as she fought to get it over with and steal all her gold back from the dragoness... and that fire spirit's copper, she figured while some of the bones fell. There were more non-sapient skeletons left standing than her previous tries, but a far cry from that of Cynder's examples and the goal set.

'Practice makes perfect' my ass. Eugenie huffed and allowed the handful of skeletons she was able to put together to fall apart. She committed the positions of their bones and which sets belonged to which corpse to memory, then tried again. The ribs were the easiest to piece together, their sizes and weights were all unique and the difference between a left or right rib didn't affect the skeletons' ability to function. They all shifted at the same time and in the same way, unless they were acted upon directly. Even then, they returned to the same positions and getting them there wasn't a challenge.

The spine and skull were much the same, a line of vertebrae with a segment or two in the wrong spot could usually operate, so long as they weren't far off from their proper places. The limbs were the only ones she needed to pay attention to. Every piece was in place, assembled like several 3D puzzles, and she willed them to rise. Her silent order made the bones quiver and click together. They levitated upright, the ribcage and spine all in one piece as the legs snapped to the hip. Though far from connected, she had the skull and arms connected while floating beside each other, it was easier to keep track of each when she thought of them as three sets of blocks.

The bases of the hips clicked as they snapped to the tailbones, the shoulder blades magnetized to the backs, and the skulls clattered their jaws to the beat of the top vertebrae shifting into place and grinding against its new confines. She started making them walk from one end of the island to the other. They started in sync, just as she wanted and had a far easier time working with than commanding each of them individually, but some gradually fell behind. A hand fell of here, a whole arm there, but they always collapsed in clouds of dust as soon as they hit the ground at the loss of a leg. As soon as that knee gave out, the foot didn't rise with the shin, or a femur slipped out of the hip, it was over.

It didn't stop her from trying to complete the test before the rest crumbled. If she could get one to finish a lap, she'd be able to get the others to work shortly after. Eugenie didn't havge to keep track of every specific motion of every single skeleton; it was more like having a bunch of computers run the same game, except the computers were all different qualities and not all of them could play the game without crashing, plus the faulty ones were randomized each attempt and they had varying levels of promise right before they crumbled. So she was playing a Bethesda game!

The last of the skeletons fell three-quarters the way through the lap, losing its foot and one of the lower leg bones, trying to keep going like the remaining bone was a peg leg but going no further unless you counted how the head rolled sadly across the dirt. Jenny sighed and pinched her nose; this was giving her a migraine. She swept the bones up in a gust of cold wind that gathered all the bones together at the edge of the island for her next try. Maybe she wasn't focused enough? But she hadn't had this much trouble with magic thus far, certainly not with Air.

"Okay, you're trying to force them to do what you want." Cynder finally took pity on the Portal Master and slithered away from the golden limbs, curling up at Eugenie's side.

"But they don't have minds, it's not like I can just ask them to help like T-bone." Eugenie protested and gestured vaguely at the collapsed bones.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Cynder sat up and grinned. "Robots, golems, hexed people, you need will and clear commands for all of them, not the Undead. What are we the Element of?"

It was always right on the tip of her tongue. She remembered Life was Growth, so Undead was "Sacrifice."

"And there you go." The dragon nodded. "Our self-mutilating spells are more effective, or lifesteal abilities are more effective, we aren't usually very healthy unless we're built around being tanks, our bites are worse than our barks: everything about us revolves around giving something up and themes of 'the price always being higher than you thought' or watching everyone else take things we'd give everything to get a piece of for granted."

Cynder took Eugenie by the hand and lifted it towards the piles of bones, reorganizing them by herself since Eugenie had proven she could do it plenty of times. "Wanting to understand what happened to the bodies makes better Undead, but you don't need to just to animate a corpse. Even if Undead aren't sentient, even if their Souls have been gone for a very long time, take a breath and try to understand the stories in the bones; they're written in all the damage and imperfections... Just show us a little empathy."

A deep breath in and out. Some of the skeletons were scratched up, and not from Eugenie's failed attempts. She'd noticed them when Cynder set up their boxes for the lesson, probably gained from being stored improperly or before they were put aside for Jenny's purposes. A very select few had extremely fine fractures; she'd never broken a bone before, but knew people who did and were intimately familiar with every second of the process from the break to getting the cast removed.

One at a time, giving each reforming skeleton careful attention and allowing them to stand at rest while he put together the rest. Their walking was a little funny at first, a little jittery and mixed with a lot of swaying. Also one at a time, their strides became slightly more natural, appearing slightly more lively. Just a little time to understand was given back; some of them started resting a hand on their hip or uneasily rubbing their shoulders and upper arms, stiffer and less coordinated mimicries of Eugenie when she was nervous, multiple poor reflections of stances she'd been doing off and on since she was told she was to indirectly handle people's bones. She was afraid and sickened to try to touch them, so they didn't tread too closely as she asked them to follow a path about the island one at a time.

When the first was finished, it stood still and limply dangled its arms with its head drooping like it was passively awaiting orders. She asked no more of it, she just needed this one thing from then and Cynder would hand over her new gold stuff. They all walked at constant paces like their footsteps were the ticks of offset metronomes, a few hitting the dirt at the same time while others were opposite to their neighbors, but they slowly, finally reached their starting point in a line of bones. When they were all done, she politely put them to rest, drawing all of them to lift their heads and lie down with their arms crossed over their chests like they'd been set in coffins. Ribs and mandibles and arm bones slowly leaned over and lightly thudded on the ground as the animation ended.

-<🌀>-

"I'm still not sure why George wanted to come with us so badly." Eruptor shrugged as they idly floated towards the Stormy Stronghold.

"He's the shield guy." Spyro shrugged.

It'd already devolved into complete anarchy. The civilians, or what was left of them, were fleeing across the streets and getting in the guards' paths as they rushed to and from the front lines. Kaos's forces were already overwhelming their defenses, a horribly unbalanced bunch of blimps and a few other heavily armored airships. They were the only things that could bear the brunt of the Eternal Air Source's massive storm without an excessively powerful engine, the very engine strapped to the back of a shoddy hot air balloon some of the Cadets had to scrape together from a bunch of replacement sails buried in the dock's storage and some two-by-fours with sand bags strapped to the sides by old rope.

There was more than a little anxiety around Eruptor, for that very reason, almost all of the talking had been a distraction for how easily the Lava Elemental could burn a hole through the bottom of the carriage and set the entire contraption up in flames. Not a problem for any of the guys, Spyro was a fire dragon and Eruptor just went liquidy when he needed to break his fall. Elfie was more than light enough for him to grab by the shoulders and fling onto his back.

Jet Vac had stepped out of retirement for just a moment, drawing his vacuum pack out of the Relics Room for his Air expertise and general experience, him also being literally the only option when Kaos's armies attacked the Stronghold ahead of Thrillipede's predictions. Knowing his time against the Greebles, Spyro found it more likely the loss of their main dreadnought was what triggered the Dark Portal Master to launch the invasion. Everyone knew exactly where the fleet was and he still got the drop on them, Spyro growled.

"What about this place got you to be a Skylander again?" Stealth Elf finally asked.

Jet Vac glanced at her, then refocused his eagle eyes on their distant prize. "This and the ruins Drobot got attacked at used to be Sky Baron fortresses, I just need to make sure it's not targeted." He sighed and drew his weapon. The elastic pipe connecting to the bottom of the vacuum pack swayed and pumped as he experimentally flicked some switches and pressed some buttons along the side, making short and controlled gusts puff out of the wide barrel before he reactivated the safety and holstered it.

"Why'd they get abandoned?" Eruptor followed.

"The site Camo pulled Drobot out of was mostly destroyed by wars. All the Light Eater left was everything built into the island, the true castle's been lost for a long time, never got rebuilt." He shrugged. "This one was given to Mabu refugees after Eon, the Swap Force, Kaossandra, and her armies' fight destroyed their homes over the power of the Cloudbreak Islands."

"Technically you still own it, right? The Armada Signing." Spyro added.

"Yes, Spyro, the Stronghold's still the Sky Baron's." Jet Vac sighed and steeled his stance.

"WOWZERS! Now that's a twister!" Flynn snapped between the teacher and his former student. "Almost as impressive as me. Almost" Can you PLEASE talk like a normal person?

Crumbling pieces of the castle whirled like cannonballs throughout the tornado's confines, one primary island at the center of the stone walls and dirt paths. Many were clogged with Mabu trying to flee, others were packed with Drow and Spell Punks bashing against poorly equipped guards. A few Sky Barons had arrived ahead of time, putting up a much more effective defense against the Dark Elves and cloaked spellcasters, but their numbers were few, just whatever soldiers were close and capable enough to send aid while the rest dealt with their own problems and defended their homelands. The Skylanders wouldn't find it surprising if all the smaller ships that should've been covering the bigger and slower vessels' weaknesses were sent to pin down the eagles so the real forces could progress, but such a thing hadn't been part of their briefing.

"Down there!" Elfie leaned over the edge of the cramped basket and pointed to a series of spires crackling with white electricity. Each was sending bolts to, or drawing from, the center of the funnel.

"I think they want to harness its power, likely for a weapon, but I can't tell what." Jet Vac theorized as Flynn, with the Buzz Wing and Sky Slicer zooming past the balloon and flinging them forward with the draft, angled them down towards a barren outcrop.

"Not a weapon! They're trying to weaken it!" Spyro shouted over the rushing winds. "They can't overcome the Source's power, but they can pull it in enough directions to split the tornado and let a retrieval team through."

Eruptor, Elfie, and JV looked to Spyro. "What?" He raised a brow.

"Just... didn't expect that from you." Jet Vac explained.

Spyro's amber eyes narrowed. "What're you implying?"

"Well now, looky there: some kinda bridge!" Flynn interrupted again. "'Course right now it's just a big buncha giant swirling chunky things stuck in the vortex of a killer tornado... But hey! All ya gotta do is figure out how to rebuild it!"

Spyro leered at Jet Vac and dashed toward Elfie. "Just message me if the storm gets too much, I'll be there faster than the next lightning strike." He promised.

"I know." She nodded. "Eruptor and I will go down one path, you and Spyro flank them!" She yelled to Jet Vac.

"Hey! I didn't sign off on this plan!" The Eagle hollard as she and the Lava Elemental started down the path.

"You got a better idea!?" Eruptor shouted as the cobblestone beneath his feet began to deform.

The bird's beak opened, then closed after a second as the Elemental Paragon took off away from the intended path. He nodded and revved up his jet pack. A hurricane-like swirl rocketed out of the bottom of the pack as he chased the dragon.

Now that none of the problem Skylanders were around, Stealth Elf quickly teleported behind Flynn and slipped a coin into his hand. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He winked. "Just try not to leave them alone for too long, even I can only be so many places at once."

-<🌀>-

Oscar's bag didn't have much other than a pencil pouch, some textbooks, and calculators, all wrapped in some sort of waterproof container or plastic wrap; a result of 'the great capsize incident' of a couple Summers ago. A collapsible fishing rod and a small box of lures, baggies of dull hooks, weights, and extra line were tucked into one end of the cylinder. But other than the protected and water-safe stuff, he was content with a Pokémon whale plushie stacked on top of his supplies.

There was no school today, but she'd spotted a lot of people helping their friends drive boats down to the lake. Odds were the fish had been repopulated, or the entrance fee was cut. Her husband passed on the event to hike in the woods with a megaphone that the school lent and they worried Maria was still a bit too small to start wrestling with a largemouth bass, especially when her Dad was busy.

"Thank you." Oscar cleaned his plate and tucked it into the back of the dishwasher.

"You're welcome. I made extra, anyway." She waved it off while mindlessly wiping down the kitchen.

They worked in silence for a few minutes after Oscar awkwardly looked around, found a rag, and tried to keep up with her. "H-Has... Anyone..." He stammered and took a deep breath. "Has anyone checked the house recently?"

She shook her head. "Everyone combed that thing when he didn't come home. Why?"

"I just... I have a feeling... I don't know why..." He shrank and twiddled his thumbs between the rag.

"Nothing's there, Oscar, but I promise everyone's looking for him." She insisted and shifted.

"Everyone's at the lake." He pointed out.

"That's..." She came up with nothing. "Sam's doing his best."

Oscar swallowed and looked to the ground. "Hey, do you want to join them?" She asked. "I can drive you to the lake."

"I... I'll just walk..." He shakily grabbed his bag and mumbled goodbye.

His eyes were pasted to the sidewalk for most of the trip. All the grooves and cracks were committed to memory, but it was better than letting his mind wander to that-

...That damn house. The hairs on the back of Oscar's neck stood on end; he could feel it coming up, mocking him as the trees parted, grass dried out, and sidewalk grew decrepit. The short walk up to the rotting front door was as disgustingly taunting as the first time they approached the crumbling building. Oscar just had to wonder aloud if anything had been left behind, he just had to say something. Maybe George wouldn't have been bothered with the wretched place, maybe he wouldn't have tried his luck.

Oscar passed the front door, ground his teeth and heels to a stop until they felt like they were sinking into his gums and ankles, and turned around. One of the steps almost caved under his foot as he swallowed hard and forced himself up the stairs. That same slab of splintered wood almost got him first time, too. Nobody's around, nobody will care, this place's been abandoned since George went missing, he told himself as he unsteadily peered through the main room.

"H-Hello?" He stuttered to the dark and rays of sunshine filtering through the ant holes and clumps of bird poop. "Hello? George!" His footsteps were eerily loud like they were announcing his presence to a slasher villain. Maybe they were, it'd make more sense than his friend noping right out of reality. "George would do the same for me." He insisted and stepped deeper into the house. It looked the same as when they looted the gang of spoiled teens' lost trinkets. Oscar's had already been palmed off, but George never got the chance; on the off chance he found them here, then he must've gotten into trouble when he hid from the storm. But the police should've run into them first.

The sound of dripping and scent of salt, no, salt water wafted out from around a corner. He tugged his bag closer to his chest like a shield as he brought himself to peer around the corner. Other than a knocked-over pile of debris, nothing was new, and there definitely wasn't any ocean water in the middle of the country. Whispers of foam washing against a beach riddled with seashells and sand dollars echoed out of the crevice, another stupid staircase buried behind the rubble. "George would do the same for me."

A chill ran through his skin like he was stepping into a cold pool on the first day of Summer vacation as he braced himself against the wall and slowly descended the extremely precarious staircase. With every step, he fell deeper and deeper underwater, the ice crawling up his spine and over his throat like the deep blue light gently flickering at the bottom. The railing was shattered and missing as he peeked around the corner again, finding no people or colored lightbulbs, but an ever-shifting blob attached to a basement wall.

Since there wasn't anybody waiting to pin a knife to his throat, Oscar stepped out of the dark confines and treaded the space before the wriggling spot. It wasn't like any effect he'd seen before; it couldn't be the same concept as a fake torch or fire pit from the Renaissance Festival, it didn't have any pointed edges and was pulling itself in too many directions like a bunch of putty, not something a bunch of fabric or paper and a fan could imitate.

While the blue light shone outward, a gentle breeze he couldn't find the origin of fluttered into the blob. He walked around the strange prop, finding it wasn't hanging on the wall, after all. Oscar went as far as to grab a chip of concrete and chuck it over the blob, there weren't any strings making it float unstably in the middle of the room. He couldn't find a glass or plastic stand hiding beneath the shifting mass as he skidded another pebble across the floorboards, either. Could it be a magnet trick?

All he did was be near it and his face got splattered. It wasn't much more than a light spritz of water, but he needed to step back and clean his glasses. Where the water came from, aside from the blob, he couldn't tell. It sure moved a lot like water if it was suspended in space, but why would it suddenly lash out at him just for stepping closer than he meant to? Much like Oscar, the spot couldn't seem to decide if it was neutral or trying to draw him in. Did George find this? And if so, why hadn't the search parties?

...Was George in there?

"GEORGE!" Oscar called again. The glowing mass pulsed and he stumbled forward like it was a black hole. It stopped as soon as he frantically kicked away. NOT MAGNETS! GOT IT! he froze in place, scratching the floorboards as he thought of what to do next. Did calling for George pull him in? Then what dragged George in there? The only person he could think of it starting with was Maria, but he just saw her watching old cartoons. "George?" He hesitantly called one more time, he had to shift a foot to avoid falling into the blob.

George? Even thinking about him caused some dust to flutter and rusty screws to roll the blob's way. It had to have something to do with him... Unless Oscar remembering him was all that dragged him towards the writhing thing. Maybe that was all it needed to... do stuff... Maybe George wanted a way out of the storm and got swallowed? Not like either of them would know what to do with it. "O-Okay, George, just let me think." The spot didn't react. George wasn't what triggered it, but Oscar's will. Why that was, he didn't know or care right now. If he left, nobody would believe him, especially with how badly he'd fumble explaining it. And there was a chance it wouldn't be here when he returned.

But Oscar was no moronic horror movie protaginist thinking it'd be a good idea to jump right in or touch it with his bare hands DAMMIT, he was a HUMAN descended from KILLER APES with the BIRTHRIGHT TO POKE WEIRD SHIT WITH A POINTY STICK! "I c-can do this." A plank, about half as tall as he was and with plenty of splinters on the end. Its base was clean and smooth enough for him to grab without thirty undiscovered diseases getting injected directly into his bloodstream as he slowly and shakily lifted it towards the blob. Pebbles and sawdust glided towards the bright white and deep blue mass, followed by his shoelaces and the zippers of his duffle bag.

The tip of the plank phased through the mass and Oscar was gone.

-<🌀>-

The Stronghold was already crumbling around them as she and Eruptor charged the Drow. What were once staircases had been reduced to collapsed piles of rubble they used as ramps. Chompies and Chompy Pods had already been set up on the islands and Air Spell Punks were shielding Drow spearmen. Only a couple, but they were gaining and holding enough ground that they just left a couple soldiers covering their back. Stormblade and Thrillipede were holding the line against the blimps and cannonfire, shielding Eruptor as he charged head-first into the Dark Elves while Elfie cut through the Spell Punks right before he hit their air barriers.

She could sense the screams of the plants trapped in the twister no matter where they went, just as inescapable as the roaring winds and cracking thunder. From asking some vines to make temporary bridges to other parts of the isles for much-needed treasures to vantage points over the destruction. Eruptor tried to stay by her side for all of it, but his reassurances kept getting drowned in the lightning strikes, and not because of the deafening snaps of plasma. All that was missing was a torrent of rain that turned tough soil full of ancient trees' roots or a cowering family of foxes and she'd be right back where this started.

"Listen to me, Elfie, the worst is in your head!" The Lava Elemental repeated as they barreled closer to the twister. Even here, bolts of electricity-like energy swirled around the center island ad crackled along the edges of the tornado. OH! WIND AND LIGHTNING'S NOT ENOUGH? LET'S HAVE BOTH! Her patience with this mission was already growing thin as Jet Vac-lookalikes soared through the streaks of forceful winds, paused for barely a second to search for groups of Drow, and dove into battle like birds of prey.

Her Skylander markings blinked and hissed as they progressed, right after her ears twitched with a change in the environment. Not a shift or slowing of the winds, to her disappointment and rising tension, but an adjustment of the magic. Of course this segment was strong in Magic when Spyro when the other direction, and of course he was the one who knew how this mechanical;l stuff worked. The base of this stupid lightning tower was a screw, who designed this crap?!

The golden corckscrew and its steel top held a golden crescent wrapped in a white halo. It expelled the bright white arcs of lightning toward the incredibly violently thrashing Eternal Air Source right before their eyes, but neither she nor Eruptor knew how to disable it or get in; she'd practiced desert and mountain and unusual terrain survival and a few arts outside the strictly necessary classes and a lengthy schedule full of personal training, Eruptor worked with cooking, body building, negotiations, and investigation until an animal handling class was allowed. Spyro was supposed to be their handyman and magical wildcard, Professor Jet Vac took the other techie with him. Is this what we get for not flying?

Some wooden triangle designs were at the pylon's base and a rudimentary gear was built into the bottom of the screw, but there were no other mechanics and the Drow Eruptor defended her and the spire from were holding wenches, let alone one big enough to try their luck. The lightning grew stronger and white bolts curled as another mechanism opposite to their island was deactivated. It was only a small adjustment, the energy becoming slightly stronger and glowing a little harsher, but Elfie saw every painfully detailed ripple of plasma. Searing lightning, explosive lightning, lightning that blinded her wide eyes, lightning that tore through gigantic trees like they were nothing, light that was joined by pouring rain and hail that stung the skin and drove mudslides into every opening-

A trio of fireballs blasted into the crescent, blowing its aura away and reducing the gold ornament to an orange and red hot, deformed metal dropping over the edge of the railing. It worked about as well as it could've, and the coast was clear. She was safe, for now. Elfie released a breath she didn't know she was holding and held a hand over the lapis Life emblem on her heart. It was thundering through her armor like the village gongs.

A few Drow surrounded Eruptor before he threw them over the edge like a bunch of training dolls. "You locked onto it so..."

"I'll be fine, we just need to be quick." She insisted. "Thank you."

"Just stay behind me." He bumped his magma globs together in challenge and proceeded through the ruins of the Stronghold.

Chapter Text

Spyro's wings sliced through the storm like it was nothing, followed by the constant thrumming of JV's vacuum pack. The professor broke off momentarily to crack open an Air Elemental Gate as abundant Magic power flowed freely through the dragon's body. He folded one wing behind his spine, sending him spinning into a downward dive as he avoided a mix of circular blades and unusual spells flying through the tempest in his pursuit.

Like a precision-bombing Supercharger, he rocketed towards the Drow Witches, Chompies, and Goliath Drow scrambling beneath him. The majority of their forces were either trying to take the main castle or fighting off the actual Superchargers from their inferior airships, these groups were figuring out how to maintain some sort of formation in the tight paths of the crumbling and rainy islands when the real strike force appeared from nothing. Despite not being of the Magic Element, the flames in his maw swelled and glowed. It gave the witches and Spell Punks a bright marker to throw their discs, compressed Air spells, and hexes at, but he was too close to the ground.

He swallowed the fireball, igniting his horns and claws. They slashed through the heart of Skylands with even greater speed than he did as he plowed into the ground, streaks of golden sparks around searing white and iridescent cores. The cobblestone shattered into burning shards that buried themselves into the Drow's armor. Stone wasn't much next to metal, but the Spell Punks and witches were unprotected. He opened his jaws and released the deeply burning fireball into the chest of the brute. Daggers of red-hot rock sliced across the warrior's green skin, he raised his brass crescent shields to cover his dark, blank eyes, leaving his gut open.

While off balance, the brute was flung back into a railing, even though a narrowly surviving Air Spell Punk cast a lesser wind aura around him. His Fire was too strong for the Air. The bright red shoulder pad over the brute's left arm slipped off as the flames reduced the leathery binding to ash. Dense soot and a pad of burning flesh gave Spyro a dark target to drive his horns directly through the remains of the Goliath's thick hide. Either he'd stab straight through and turn the Drow's insides to mush before yanking his horns out, or he'd just fling it off the ledge of the island. One would momentarily leave him open to the Spell Punk, but their Air attacks wouldn't do much to a dragon of Magic and he'd stay closer to them for swift retaliation.

The decision was partially made for him since his claws, sharper and longer with greater traction and denser muscles, had yet to be tested in the field or training. His horns lowered, bashing the dull end into the ribcage while he pressed his forehead and snout into the burnt gut. Spyro went soaring off the Stormy Stronghold with the largest Drow, flapped his wings to throw himself towards his enemy's face, and slashed through the throat and a cheek while turning on a coin towards the Spell Punk. Crimson followed his paw as the biggest threat plummeted towards the lower islands, spending a fraction of the time to get rid of him than if they fought head-to-head. The Spell Punk stood even less of a chance than his effortlessly devastated tank and bodyguard, fluttering to the floor as a bodiless robe. It didn't even hit the ground before he moved on.

Of the remaining Drow, a bunch of spearmen, there were few able to keep up with the dragon after being blown up. His burning, iridescent claws created fiery puffs of plasma and bouncing sparks as he dragged them across their armor and chests. One on the right crumpled quickly. The center and left Drow scrambled to pat out the flames growing up the slightly wet brown fabric of their uniforms while stumbling away from the Elemental Paragon. Spyro blasted them away with a narrow cone of flames just wide enough to consume both, keeping it focused and forceful until there was nothing but bones coated in a thinning layer of slime and reddish black strands.

Less than a minute to get rid of them all, there was room for improvement. For now, though, he had an opening to deactivate the pylon. Every pylon that went down was one buying them time to push back the invasion and break through the tornado; every deactivated pylon bought them time to break through the defenses and fetch the Eternal Source. The system was fairly simple, one that was popular in the Air Islands he used to practice storm surfing in; press down the center platform with one arm to disengage the lock, then spin the gear at the base to collapse the screw. The crescent foci's white lightning and aura flickered away, banished, as it slotted into the base of the invasive device. He could stop by to fully uninstall it when there wasn't an armada breathing down the inhabitants' necks.

It flicked off with a click and hiss, he easily dashed through the ruined paths and debris with his burning horns pointed forward. Whoever wasn't run through by the horns was flung aside like ragdolls. To their credit, some spearmen tried to ambush him by flipping over the edges of the walls, but he was the one searching for Elfie when the storms got especially bad ever since they were put on the same team. The shifting of their armor and clanking of their glaives against the stone walls and relatively small island foundations was nothing next to the true ninja when every part of her body was thrown into fight or flight like she'd been held over a pool of acid while her harness and rope burned. He barely had to jab them in the stomachs with the burning spikes of his wings to send them back into the vortex.

-<🌀>-

Concussive blasts of pressurized air sent Chompies, or parts of them, flying across the Air-strengthening islands as Jet Vac flew over and cleared the battleground. The whirl of the jetpack spun clockwise for speed while his gun inverted the gusts for power. While a little rusty, he was certainly stable enough on his own to fly through the battlefield at great speeds. The wind familiarly flew through his aged feathers and around his beak as he toggled a switch at the base of the grip, shifting the fire mode.

It was wound tighter into a bright white projectile, far more focused than the explosive version he killed the Chompies with, and put several blasts into the core of a Chompy Pod. Rocks flew and a mix of Chompies and Drow scattered at the old Skylander's violent arrival. Some Sky Barons nodded to their elder from the skies and flew between flying Drow Witch blades. There weren't any pylons in this section of the Stronghold, but there were a lot of spots for any random Air Spell Punk to fly in some reinforcements while he and Spyro were handling the Eternal Air Source. It might only take one to snatch the expression of Skylands' magic right out of their claws.

Another group was making way for the funnel of light gray winds twirling in the direction of the island. He couldn't keep negating the transportation point when other Spell Punks kept making new ones while he cancelled those of their comrades, but he could mow through the greatly reduced soldiers trying to escape and join the other fight. Spyro had his talons full with the spires, he could easily lock down this island.

Mostly Drow and Chompies were headed his way, whatever easily fieldable warriors the assault could scrape together. Whoever wasn't sent to deflect the Superchargers' advances were sent after the main island, through Jet Vac. And when he wasn't shooting them down with his explosive shots, he was precisely picking off Pods and Spell Punks with the static white, tightly compressed air bolts. There were only so many soldiers to spare before the rest were forced to search for other ways to warp to the castle, which meant trying to sneak past his fellow Sky Barons. They didn't have what it took, not one, but one was marching right up to him.

Heavy footsteps rounded a corner, scattering mud and wet grass as a suit of animated armor faced the Skylander. It was a full head larger than most of Kaos's favorite make and model. Its shins, forearms, gloves, chest, and shoulders were layered with additional sheets of bright white armor trimmed gold. A gray living shield was strapped to its right arm and a long white spear, meant for piercing tough scales, covered in gold details lowered to meet the Skylander. The tip of its spear was dripping blood and threads of blue fabric like the outside of his gambeson were tangled around the spiky base of the speartip. A crown of white and gold was affixed over its helmet with chunks of Petrified Darkness embedded in the center and over its empty heart.

Jet Vac charged his gun, his arm ached with the recoil as he sent a concentrated bolt directly into its shield. The knight staggered but quickly regained its stance. It reared back its spear and lunged in a flash of golden light and violet shadows. Jet Vac flung his gun to the side, activating the suction function. It dragged the speartip aside enough for the jetpack to launch him the rest of the way, without sending him hovering off the edge of the island and allowing the Lesser Dragonslayer Armor to pass right through.

The suit swung around, trying to bash the spiky sides of its spear into the Skylander, but JV was blowing out of reach before it even began the attack. Multiple shots plowed into its shield while he gradually rotated around the suit, searching for the biggest gap in the sliding panels before lining up more accurate shots. He lifted his gun skyward and charged a far more powerful shot, but a pair of metal sheets unfolded from the suit's back as golden sparks launched it up out of the way.

It held its shield high before the golden sparks crackled again, bringing the toothy bottom down on Jet Vac, but he was still too fast despite his age. He rocketed toward the cloud of dirt and clumps of mud, losing line of sight as he passed but getting the armor off his tail feathers. Even after years of being a teacher, maneuvers like throwing his gun directly behind him while his eyes were shut tight through the debris were second nature, if a tad unpracticed. The ringing of the blasts impacting the suit's back echoed over the storm, followed by the zips of bolts being violently shot out of their sockets like arrows.

One of the shin guards fell off to the side. Exactly which additional layers of Light armor he'd weakened had yet to be made clear, nor did they matter when the knight whirled around and charged with its shield again. No Chompies or Drow had been caught in his vacuum pack, but he used the expulsion feature to boost himself just out of reach of the tip of its spear. That didn't mean his legs were what they used to be, never since the fire and Hex. His hip popped as his aching legs scrambled away from the knight while his vacuum pack put more rounds into its shield, keeping it away.

Its spear nicked his side, tearing open some sheets of gambeson and scattering sparks off the top of his belt while he landed a point-blank shot into its helmet. Both staggered back, he'd gotten very rusty. Classroom delinquents are not Dragonslayers. Both the Skylander and animated armor stepped back with their weapons at the ready to weigh their options, though only one had a conscience and individual will capable of drafting a complex plan on the fly.

The complex plan consisted of shooting to the sky and pummeling the last wind vortex from afar. Some small tornadoes pushed the armor back as the different fronts collided and dispersed. The knight's artificial wings sparked and crackled, flashing a smaller amount of gold sparks across the grass as it leaped. Its spear trailed behind it as the edges of its Inhuman Shield hissed through the wind pressure. Its next maneuver was quite obvious, especially for a suit designed against mighty dragons. He weaved up and right of the spear's swing and kept the knight beneath him with a column of air. Gravity was on his side, even though the space away from islands was slightly lacking it.

Jet Vac and the Lesser Dragonslayer chased each other toward the main island as the Drow's hold on the storm, on the Eternal Air Source, loosened further with the deactivation of multiple pylons, firing and dashing at each other whenever an opening presented itself. But with every pylon that went down, the peak of the storm swelled out of control. Without the golden crescents dividing and stretching the immense outburst down, it was freely rocketing to the Skylands above, throwing them and every ship or building caught in the crossfire away from the Stormy Stronghold.

Superchargers and some of the larger combat blimps may have been able to power through the swirling clouds and plentiful strikes of lightning, but an individual Skylander and a suit of armor running off basic programming and poorly attached mobility augments were a far cry from a heavily designed and enchanted vehicle running off a Rift Engine. They were forced to descend, continuing their conflict upon the crumbling exterior walls. Carefully carved boulders lined with smears of soaked and cracked concrete sealings and splintered wood fell around them as the armor kept bearing the brunt of Jet Vac's shots with its angry shield.

A surge of flames cut between the Skylander and Dragonslayer as it started advancing. Water turned to steam in the blink of an eye and damp logs and broken planks turned to firewood, embers and debris flying as the flaps of broad wings pierced the boiling hot fog, colliding with the knight and grabbing its spear. Jet Vac's eagle eyes saw through the mist and lined up his shot with the knight's head, trying to quickly get the Elemental Paragon out of the situation; Spyro hadn't been close enough to the fight to tell where each party had been when he boiled and dove into battle, he'd remembered where they were and where the Haunted Knight would be.

Spyro refused or didn't hear JV's calls for him to get out of the way, and the bird felt he knew which one as the dragon braced a wing against the spikes of the spear, keeping his leverage against the polearm by staying just out of his claws' reach. Its shield was well within his grasp, though, his talons dug into its face enough to stop the Dragonslayer from winding up for a shield bash. He suddenly released his grasp and swung for the knight's head, but Jet Vac used an explosive shot to separate the two before they connected.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Spyro roared while regaining his grip on the spear and losing the shield.

"TRYING TO KEEP YOU ALIVE!" The professor yelled over the storm and did his best to steady his gun again. He's going to get himself killed!

The shield's spiky bottom slashed down on Spyro's underbelly and hind legs. Some red ran down and between his legs and along his tail, but he gritted his teeth and easily toughed through the attack as the shield lifted again. They weren't very deep, anyway, only about what the Arena drones could manage by wearing down the same scales for almost ten minutes of swinging their measly weapons at the hardest difficulty. Spyro's chest and jaws glowed orange as his cold amber eyes tracked the shield.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, YOU GO CHECK ON ELFIE AND ERUPTOR!" He insisted as the teeth swung over his head and clattered over his horns, simmering as raindrops tapped against the metallic orange plating.

He ducked beneath the teeth as the knight swung and lifted his horns under it. With the shield out of the way again, he released the spear and dragged his claws through the Light armor on its chest, grazing the forearm plating as he did. Golden sparks flew and both were thrown off their footing by the blast of another concussive shot accurately sent into the armor's shield arm. His claws cut through the old, dense, arcane metal far more effectively than even he was expecting. It didn't come off in one swipe, but he was officially more efficient than Jet vac it wasn't done for, so there was nothing to be proud of.

Jet Vac's gun put more concussive rounds into the armor with the hopes of giving Spyro an escape. He didn't even take it. This boy was going to be the end of him, after all, because there was no way he was letting Spyro keep this up. "I'M ORDERING YOU TO STAND DOWN!"

"I KNOW!" Spyro snapped back. The Inhuman Shield lifted and bared its many long teeth. He lunged into the Lesser Dragonslayer Armor's chest so it couldn't try jabbing him with its spiky spear again. That didn't stop it from trying to grapple him by the neck, he used his wing and a foreleg to keep its arm back as Jet Vac approached, putting more and more shots into its shield so the fangs wouldn't bury themselves into his four shoulders and pin down his tail.

"STOP SHOOTING THE SHIELD!" He snarled while charging a large fireball.

"THEN GET AWAY FROM THE SHIELD!" Jet Vac squawked.

His orange eyes narrowed and a puff of white smoke mixed with bright embers and streaks of orange light hissed between his fangs and out of his nostrils. Giving up, he stepped on the armor's knee and grabbed the bottom of the shield. He kept holding back the knight's arm with a wing and his tail while he tore the shield downward, shifting the knight's weight and uppercutting the helmet with the pearly spike of his wing. It started wrestling him for control of the shield and to brace the spear's staff against his throat.

Some of his breath went into the back of the shield to counter JV's interference and rammed into the gauntlet gripping the handle. His claws gripped the top of the shield and he kicked the spear down. Spyro stood on the staff and flapped his wings backwards into the knight's face, disorientating the spiritual essence piloting the construct and flinging himself forward. The Elemental Paragon whirled around and slashed at one of the legs, removing its other Light leg armor.

Jet Vac promptly watched him miss a powerful fireball shot with his target literally right in front of him. The fireball blasted into a stone wall between them and the tornado, the rapidly destabilizing winds sucked more debris into the void between floating islands and threw them across the battlefield. Every ship caught in the crossfire either had their blimps burst open and plummeted down into the void until they hit another distant isle, had half of their bows and armor peeled right off their frames and went careening into the sides of other ships, their engines exploded and destroyed the entire warship's steering and the back of the blimp until it crashed into something else, or just got drawn into the storm with the pieces of the bridge.

"IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!" The Sky Baron shouted in complete disbelief. This was the Skylander who fought a Dark Portal Master instead of the Final Trials?

The dragon's growl echoed over the cracks of lightning as he inhaled the cold, rainy air like his body was a glowing orange engine. "WOULD YOU STOP TALKING!?" All the rainwater that fell in his jaws flash-boiled to bright white steam filtering orange light. His claws bore through the Light armor about its shield arm and yanked the knight to the side, slapping it in the face with his other wing while swiping his tail across one of the legs.

He got on all fours and stabbed the tips of his wings into the ground. Fire raged out of his claws and wing spikes as he threw himself at the animated armor, right before it could bash its shield but after the long fangs had stabbed the cobblestone. That was fine, his scales could handle his snout scraping across some cobble as his horns wedged beneath the barrier and a fireball blasted at their feet. His ignited wings rode the hot upward draft of steam, smoke, and rippling mirage-like air while the knight tried to steady itself with its sparkling wings.

Water boiled and steam was blown away as Spyro's wings thrusted him forth, joining the powerful draft of the tornado as the Lesser Dragonslayer Armor fought against the pull with unusually enchanted equipment that didn't belong to it, wasn't part of its shell. But the dragon had better traction, his claws turned the slippery puddles to steam and slid into the grooves between stones like clamps and nails holding down the wooden boards that were his paws, the knight's feet were too long and narrow to find steady ground, its heels were too wide and armored to jam into the cracks.

That couldn't be said for the smoldering wood supports and heated brick at the very edge of the wall. One of its feet locked into place with a thud and splintered off some tiny wooden torches and sending nails into the storm. Its shield zipped out of Spyro's horn-lock because of the sudden stop and its teeth scratched along his spine, stabbing his wings' shoulders. The Inhuman Shield was no offensive weapon, not a dedicated one, it didn't have the proper enchantments to bring down a dragon, but it had the force of a slayer and sheer mass. The wounds weren't deep enough to draw much blood but it started trailing down over his other shoulders and along his upper arms.

Several deformations and chalk-like lines went over Spyro's back, but multiple large chips of the shield had snapped off in the struggle. He was winding up a set of talons to swipe across the armor's helm so he could twist its upper body, helping send it over the ledge with the momentum of the giant shield and Light spear, but the spear started to crackle and pulse as its wings cut out. Sparks traveled from the folding panels on its back, down its arm, over the staff, and concentrated at its tip. There were few blemishes and only spotty instabilities at the glowing golden, but still quite basic, spear tip; not anyone's finest work, but it swelled and hissed with the violet glow and swirling shadows of a roughly-carved chunk of Petrified Darkness in its core.

Not much at all, but still a disconnected combination of the powers of Dark and Light. Kaos was already experimenting.

His front paw was already mid-swing, he could only push away with his hind leg and a flap of his right wing. The Elemental Paragon turned his swift, burning talon into a feint and his left wing ground against the coarse concrete as the larger cobble started to break and crumble under their own weight; the wooden supports right under their feet had already been burnt and cracked off. Flames wafted over the knight's armor as the plasma in his paw continued flying into it as the spear grazed his side, he had to awkwardly and painfully bend and twist his wing in a way the center joint and the bones in the membrane weren't meant to curl.

Lightning shot through his right side and the spear tip bounced off his ribs and slid over his hide. Sparks crackled along his scales and burst out from beneath his wing. They bounced like ball bearings off the stone and his feet as he reached through the gap between its arm and spear. Like a dagger, he flattened his hand to stab through the bottom of the Light chest plate, gashing open the armor just under it and curling his claws up into the ghastly essence and Darkness pulling its Darkened steel strings. Purple and black smog and white wisps escaped the seam like blood as the spear condensed its Light again and tried to stab Spyro in the chest, but the dragon was already moving again.

Jet Vac took another charged shot at the shield, further opening a large crack down the middle like his shot was a wedge being hammered into the face. The force jostled the knight's stance and curled its upper body, changing the trajectory of its spear and the way Spyro had to dodge. It slashed over his back diagonally, right in the middle of his four shoulders and chipping some of his spinal ridges with the spikes. It reminded him of handling hacksaws. There were fewer imperfections and flying sparks, the spear had been charged somewhat properly before snapping on his vertebrae, it was getting used to its modified weaponry.

Spyro stepped on the tip of his right wing through the spreading stinging in the muscles, lifting his left wing like he was walking and lightly flapping it so his other claw could reach up to the Light pauldron. He scratched off some of the gold paint before getting a grip, the stutter made his head smack against the helmet as they went over the edge. He shot a fireball into the spear arm to push it away, break off the forearm armor, and create a small superheated blast that stopped JV from effectively drawing them back onto the wall with his vacuum gun; the sheild's face took up a lot of space, they only stopped spinning when the shoulder plate couldn't bend any further.

While it quite literally blew up in his face, it cauterized his gashes and let him twirl over the knight's back to adjust his grip and catch the tornado's raging winds with his wings. His fire was flying faster than him for a second, slowing down as he got up to speed just by the force of the storm, then shot ahead again as he threw his wings forward and twisted his body like Cynder's while releasing the knight. Its rudimentary jets weren't strong or fine-tuned enough to escape the deeper parts of the funnel, but Spyro was able to spiral with the flow of turbulence and circle around some of the islands, hidden from the winds by the shattering walls.

"I HAD THAT HANDLED UNTIL YOU STARTED SHOOTING!" Spyro growled and huffed.

"BECAUSE I WAS KEEPING IT FROM ATTACKING!" Jet Vac protested with a shrill screech like the roaring winds.

Spyro's head shot up like indignantly like he'd been attacked. "ALL YOU DID WAS MOVE US AROUND!"

"I WAS TRYING NOT TO HIT YOU!" Their voices raised again.

The insubordinate dragon was about to snap back again, just another thing to bring up to Master Eon, when his angry amber eyes flashed the pink and purple of the Magic Element. "Elfie."

He took to the skies before Jet vac could order him to speak up, diving straight into the storm. She may be in the direction of the previous pylons, but the motion and absurd force of the tornado was going the other way with much greater force. He needed speed, not grace; it didn't matter how hard the maneuver would be on his wings. The membrane felt ready to tear open and his fires were being forced down his throat by the immense speed. Blindingly bright lightning and speeding debris cracked and flew around the dragon as the brutal hurricane flung him at the bright dot of fire and magma where Eruptor was fighting off a band of Drow, Spell Punks, and Chompies.

Hotter and hotter, his fire grew and grew, his eyes burning cold as they searched each speck of green for Stealth Elf. She was night black and lapis blue against light gray rock and earthy brown wood, far more so than forest green, it shouldn't have been this difficult. The burnt blood smeared over his scales flaked off, turned black and charred as the many splinters and smoky rocks battering his heavy eyes. His heart pounded faster than the frigid raindrops hitting the walls and splattering over his hide. Water trailed off his wings, sizzling and steaming, making him blend in with the dark air if not for the blazing flames coating his body like a protective blanket. What he wouldn't give to have George by Elfie's side for this mission, though even thinking the name made his chest tighten. But he wouldn't let Elfie or Eon down, not now nor ever.

A gold blink flashed in the distance, a cross of Light headed right for him. The Dragonslayer wasn't done. A pointed projectile shot through some burnt wood and redirected weakened rocks as it aimed directly for Spyro's chest. He couldn't stop or turn, he needed to find the team, but it'd been some time since he pulled off a spell parry. Spyro crossed his Magic, switching the flow of arcana and the bursting fire in his Soul as the spear got nearer. Fire altered and swayed with his limbs as he crossed his arms in an X with his claws facing outward, his scales distorting with a violet and lilac shimmer, then slashed them apart and to his sides, forcefully colliding the rippling planes of energy like an omnidirectional shield-bash.

But his timing was off. The tip of the triangular projectile went through the protective pulse. It peeled off much of the Light and sparking rays before the attack hit him, but all the Light attacks felt like they were hitting hard. Its dulled spectral tip jammed into his left wing. He'd known well how powerful the Element was, in no small part to Master Eon shielding himself so he could teach Spyro to use his flames from a younger, less refined and stable age, but it was rapidly getting excessive.

He had to grab the burning tip of his left wing to keep it steady and fold his right into an odd angle to keep on course for Elfie and Eruptor's part of the mission, but he could see her. The glints of pearl daggers and lashing of a braid almost as long as she was tall slashed and whipped and kicked and punched erratically around a group of Drow spearmen and Air Spell Punks. She was almost in range, he just needed his fire back, but his fire needed to charge and breathe.

Fire was Passion, Fire was energetic, Fire demanded fuel, Fire demanded motion. Flames were swirling around him after the hit, so he released his grip on his wing and tucked it into his body. His right wing sent him into a spin, scraping the layers of plasma around him like the inside of a generator, buzzing with static and friction. Purple streaks like arcs of lightning joined his barrel roll as the hottest flames grew out of control and spread out to the edges of the draconic torpedo, mixed with the rain, and barely cooled while the rests' temperatures grew as fast as his dive into the Drow.

-<🌀>-

A storm at her home island, not getting to visit her tree, sharing the boat with Sensei Ambush the one time he reappears to help Skylands, another night of cold mountain breeze against her windows and seeping into her bones, restless sleep filled with the image of surging mud tearing up forestry and cracks of lightning across the sky, and this was what was finally getting to her!? Drenched grass about muddy paths and soaking, already precarious wooden bridges were slipping and creaking beneath her feet as Chompies and Spell Punks closed in. Their gnashing fangs and concussive blasts sped in pursuit.

Eruptor was right behind her. Moving out of the way made her wince more than if she'd taken the bites and shots, but she wasn't a Knight. He lunged with a Magma Blob in front of his face, the Air spells bounced off his tough exterior as his limbs swelled with fire and lava, protecting his eyes before swinging his whole body around to batter multiple Chompies off the ledges the second they jumped to gnaw on him. Without breaking stride, he stepped on the final Life creature and very literally returned fire.

The Spell Punks were more of a threat to Elfie than the spearmen, but one squad was a lot closer than the other and immediately attacking him. Their weapons buried into his arms, quickly melting and reforming in his mass before the orange and red shards were launched back at the crackling and smoking staffs. Too hot to keep their shape and pierce the opposition's armor they might've been, but the wet leather and padding could only insulate so much. Many backed off, right into her iridescent dragon fang blades.

She slashed open the backs of their knees, removing their bloodied kneepads, with the gold edges and dragged Spyro's pearl fangs across their calves. No weapons and unable to walk, they resorted to crawling and rolling away from the Lava Elemental as he gave chase to the repositioning Drow Witches. His burning fists cast aside their razor discs, but their spellcraft drew the weapons back in, straight into his back. He was more than tough enough to deal with them, but that didn't mean he had to. Stealth hid behind her friend and deflected the discs again.

Further delayed by the Life Skylander's interference, the witches started flinging mixes of Tech, Water, and Air spells at him. The winds barely affected him but he could only take so many sharp, malformed gears and pressurized bubbles into his arms and core before he'd have to fall back. She wouldn't give them the chance. Her daggers flew into one's chest while the other slashed apart a spectral gear, dividing it right between the teeth. In a blink, green smoke was obscuring Eruptor and blinding another witch. She retrieved her blade in the same motion she kicked another Drow into a Spell Punk's side. Without even turning around, she cut down the blinded witch and swept the feet right out from under a fourth.

Elfie only retreated at the crack of lightning, due entirely to the onset of gears and water flying towards the Elemental. Eruptor prepared as best he could while she whirled and snapped her wrists at the attacks, cleaving many clean in two. A funnel formed around them, gathering spritz of water and sawblade-like gears crafted from Dark magics they hadn't faced in the Arena. It wouldn't stop her. Brilliant green lines flashed over her body, gleaming through her armor, turning the black as mossy green as the forest floor and igniting the lapis bright blue like the streaming river. Arcs of color scratched and slashed and dissected balls of water, gears, and tried to resist the additions of whirlwinds to the hurricane in which they stood their ground.

Then light flashed across the droplets of rain and shattered a nearby tower.

Thunder roared in her long ears as molten rocks and searing splinters burst out of the building. Far enough away not to hit them, yet right in the center of her vision, directly overseeing the very spellcasters she had no choice but to keep her focus on, no choice but to witness the electrical roar. Her balance swayed and her daggers started to slip from her grasp, but Eruptor already had the reprieve he needed. Fireballs blasted away the last witches before he moved on to the ever-spawning Chompy Pods.

Spearmen leaped over the ledges and swung the weapons in wide arcs, just running crowd control around the Spell Punks and Pod. Eruptor wasn't fast, but he wasn't slow, either. He sidestepped one of them and smacked another blade above his head while blasting the first back off the island. His sheer weight barreled straight through one more as Elfie teleported away. Eruptor changed direction mid-stride and kicked around Chompies in a rush for the pod. A Magma Blob left a bubbling puddle of lava right behind him to keep the Chompies away as he crashed into the pod and punched it the rest of the way off its roots. Acid spilled out of the burning opening as it deflated.

Right as several spears were reaching for him, his lower body dissolved and pooled. The heat radiated off the liquifying cobble, forcing them back as he inhaled deeply. His body swelled and bubbling magma echoed in his chest. The Drow didn't get a single second to counter when the lava was drawn back into his body. The molten rock made his chest burst outward. His jaws dislocated like a snake's for a meteor to roll after the Dark Elves. They dashed and flipped out of the way, Elfie was forced to leave one of her daggers buried in the stone as it slipped out of her grasp.

Her lost knife didn't deform in the slightest as Eruptor's Magma Fireball and the tail of flames washed over the fangs and gold, the perks of having a fire dragon friend, not that it meant she was safe to touch the steaming weapon or that it was the center of her attention. The new Drow were moving too fast and with too much precision for mere Spearmen. Katanas were strapped to their hips and their armor was steely bound together by tough fabric, not cotton and hardened leather; their training and equipment were too good for Kaos's forces. Where had they come from?

Knuckles bright white and shaking, her grip was too harsh to twirl and cut, she punched one of the Drow in the jaw with the golden blade. Lightning strikes, roaring winds, and pelting rain were soon joined by the painful tapping of hail on the back of her head and rebounded off the Drow's armor. The sharp nails on the end of her gloves dug into her skin before she unsheathed and slashed them across the Spearman's face. He stumbled back with three long gashes across his cheek and nose, quickly replaced by his comrade, the others were preventing Eruptor from intervening. One of them jumped at the chance to slide beneath a fireball and swing his weapon in a wide arc.

Elfie blinked behind him, completely neglecting to retrieve her weapon. She wound up popping her knuckle on his back armor. He swung around on the base of his glaive like a fire pole, she blocked the quick kick with an arm and slashed away the leg; Spyro's fangs split apart the dark steel plate, even at the awkward and wrist-twisting angle she sloppily struck at. He backed away, though still separated from the rest of his squad by a river of flowing lava and a combination of fireballs and wind blasts.

Lightning cracked, her neck felt like she pulled something just from the flinch. She teleported away to finally grab her other dagger. It was still warm to the touch as she jumped over Eruptor's lava and weaved between some projectiles to push back the Drow. Concussive Air bolts and the razor edges of discs slid across her armor and lightly ripped the edges of her silky sleeves as she stumbled and swayed in the pouring rain and roaring hurricane. She couldn't hear, she couldn't focus, she couldn't do this! The Drow parried her strikes, even with a polearm, when her blades were within reach of his throat.

A slip of scroll paper flicked out of her arm guard, quickly growing damp with freezing cold water as she frantically tapped the sigils with trembling fingers. They flashed pink as their eyes met, squinting in the middle of the rapidly growing storm. The sky far above quaked like the aching grinding of her teeth and swept away small islands like the strands of her hair. Her and the Drow's eyes narrowed with differing levels of composure, his ears pinned tightly to the sides of his head in concentration as hers twitched and flicked erratically, the battlefield being moved with and consumed by such fury that her braid was ripped apart.

"You have our eyes." His brow raised and empty eyes narrowed.

Another flash of light tore through the Stronghold, blowing apart some gates and part of the bridge, but its blinding blue glow and the burning ozone were overshadowed by orange light and steel-melting heat.

Chapter Text

Waves of weightlessness idly and gently guided him along as twilight beams filtered and danced over his limp body. The last of many bubbles lazily drifted out of his nostrils. Where they were going didn't matter; they all floated in different directions like gravity was everywhere, yet nonexistent. The water was a little salty as it slipped through his lips and down his throat. It filled his lungs and stomach like water balloons, diluting his acid and choking down his breathing until it was a constant flow of oxygenated water instead of breaths.

Oscar's deep blue eyes gently flicked open as one of the distant streaks of light lingered on his face. Everything was blurry, like he was looking through a foggy window, and his movements were sluggish. What did that blob do to him? His fingers were slow to hold a hand to his head, cold and at half speed. Where had his glasses gone? And were his hands... Glowing? He couldn't tell the difference between them and the streaks of light, they all blurred together when the beams washed over him and appeared like one giant spotlight when they moved on. A pulsing light right in his eyes. It didn't help the migraine.

He extended an arm out in the open, much faster and more naturally as he searched for his glasses. He couldn't feel the ground, but the frame of his glasses bounced against his palm. Strangely, despite accidentally swatting them away, they were easy to find just a second later like they'd been hit into his hand. Oscar blinked away the blurriness as he put them back on, the transition was a bit headache-inducing when he already felt like he had hit something. There was nothing but blue as far as the eye could see, and his movements were very inconsistent; he could move effortlessly like someone was guiding his hand or he was wearing some spacey exosuit when he was looking for his glasses, but could barely get from point A to B with common, passive adjustments. He might as well have been...

Oh, I'm underwater.

I'M UNDERWATER!

Oscar gasped on reflex. Cold ocean water rushed into his body and barely any bubbles floated out of his lungs. He looked every which direction for the way up, but there was nothing. Everything looked the same. Everywhere looked the same. Even the beams of light shining down from the surface came from everywhere and frequently changed directions, only one spot was any different, shrouded in darkness like gazing over the edge of a trench. But there was no reef full of color or patch of algae to reference, nothing to keep his sense of direction as he picked a direction and swam for his life.

It took a few minutes of the fastest swimming he'd ever done to realize he was breathing; adrenaline was a hell of a drug. He'd made no progress across the immense distance he'd covered in such a short amount of time. Everything looked exactly the same, but somehow he wasn't drowning. He wasn't thirsty, either, even though seawater wasn't exactly drinkable. Made about as much sense as being devoured by a blob. He was able to twirl around with barely any motions or currents like he was on a swivel chair and was the center of all light.

He started by looking for his things. Air and water were taken care of, ignoring how many fundamentals of human biology it subverted, and nothing was going so absurdly wrong that he needed to worry about shelter just yet (not that he could will it out of nothing), he had snacks in his bag. A shape started to drift towards him, emerging from behind the lights. He couldn't see what it was until it got closer, but he could see the shadow casting down to the depths.

On instinct, he feared it to be a shark, which meant he had to be calm and not make any sudden movements. They were still just fish, no matter their size and reputation. If he made it obvious that he was a Human, not prey, it'd move along. Maybe it'd think he was a turtle if he spread his limbs! But what if it thought he was a seal if he tucked them in? The shark kept drifting closer, more at a constantly decreasing speed of fading momentum than any propulsion. But they always had to be moving their tails, they had to move forward to respirate, why was this one slowing and stopping?

Because it was his bag, apparently. He'd been terrified of his bag floating towards him. Floating menacingly, he might add. It nudged his leg and he wrestled the strap around his shoulder. Deep blue light sang and twirked over his body like light coming down from the surface, but they were too rich a color to be from the Sun. A wavering glow like rounded-out blue fire mixed with glowing water dripping from his sleeves surrounded his form, it'd been blending in with the completely blank sea.

Looking around for anything he could use as a landmark, his glasses somehow stayed perfectly glued to Oscar's face. Another shadow approached from the light and dark, totally bottomless waters, drifting towards him like a vertical sea snake being carried by the current. But there was no current, was there? He couldn't tell where the surface was, but he definitely wasn't moving. Not even his clothes fluttered back and forth. If he was in stagnant water, then there was already at least one brain-eating amoeba going through his ears and nose, but his clothes did billow quite randomly, filling the spots between the patterns in the lights dancing over his body.

The shadow of the sea snake was that plank with the rusty nail he found, the one he trusted to poke the blob for him. Betrayed by a pointy stick, Humanity's most reliable tool! This will never be forgiven!

Streamers of rich blue light coalesced around the plank, shattering it like it was nothing. Rust rapidly grew around the nail and was sanded off by the condensing minerals. He could feel the individual plankton fleeing the scene like they'd committed a heinous crime, dragging the shrinking and breaking spots of corrosion and waterlogged wood with them. It didn't fade when the half-joking deed was done, the dark blue light swirled around him like snakes and tentacles. He looked like a sea urchin or kraken as every appendage reached out to the empty world.

Were they searching for something? Was he searching for something? Of course he was, he was looking for George; all for him. His breath caught in his throat as he swallowed down his nerves. All for him, even if it went slightly awry. The water moved so fast it felt like it was boiling cold, yet he couldn't say it hurt. Glowing water wafted off his body and crashed against his surroundings like an underwater tsunami. Blue light, his light, dispersed as his aura connected to more and more water. The shadows to his side and beams of the Sun's glow, no, of Light's glow filtering through the surface he couldn't find, turned and churned into a deep blue glow that continued stretching further and further.

He could feel through the waves and currents, currents that moved around and through Oscar like they weren't even there. There was no sea floor. No sand supported crabs and clams and plants, no coral took root and housed the fish, no large ocean mammals or significant predatory fish were with him. The few wildlife that called this massive, shapeless collection of water were small filter feeders and far from his position, all were missing giant sharks and flying rays, all were missing curious octopodes and squids.

Tentacles of blue light with brighter, serrated suckers and spiked points lashed out at the empty space. Specters of sharks swam circles around him, chasing large fish like tuna as the spines of lion fish flashed across his vision. The streaks closest to him warped and pulsed, wobbly sets of toothy jaws and sharp, curved beaks sprouted into being. None of them stayed for long. Most deformed and disappeared into the lights as soon as they appeared, the rest didn't last much longer. Oscar could figure out where it came from and how another time, he was here for a reason.

And he could find the surface. The edge of the water bubbled and swayed with unnatural energy, rocking boats and capsizing rafts as he was drawn forth like a rope was tied around his chest. None of his limbs moved to push water out of his way or kick, his entire body remained eerily still, even his glasses put no greater pressure against his face than when he was stationary. The water in his lungs swirled like whirlpools drawing everything in, but there was no air for him to breathe or bubbles in his chest. The minerals scraped against the edges of the organs like they were scratching away pollution and rinsing out the choked debris, but all of it and his body moved independently of the ocean around him. shooting towards the closest of multiple 'surfaces' in an ungrounded body of water like a bubble in space.

George.

George!

SHIELD OF TERRA!

-<🌀>-

George stared out at the dark, overcast Skylands as rain pelted and lightning crackled. A flying blade and a giant mechanical dragonfly soared through the heavy clouds, the first cleaving straight through large war blimps and flying debris from the slowly collapsing and crumbling fortress as the second sent swarms of bugs and large missiles into the hulls of the more armored vessels. The huge balloons were crashing around them, the heavy wooden and metal boats they lifted plummeted to the ground and void beneath them, and the blasting fire of their many weapons was drowned by the roaring storm.

Somehow, those unknown Skylanders had brought down more ships in the time he and the Aspirants had viewed their aerial dogfighting than many ace pilots back home had in their careers. It was a small miracle they hadn't allowed anything to come crashing down on them. Not that there were many opportunities for any ships to give them any mind. Even with the Earth-shattering power of his Warp Dashes, the storm's rapidly growing strength and size covered their extremely obvious approach with blinding flashes of plasma and thunder that split clouds like the condensed dust and water droplets were glass daggers.

"George, you good?" Food Fight the sentient artichoke asked, a phrase he never wanted to think up again.

"Yeah... Just thought someone said my name." He nodded and turned back to the Stormy Stronghold.

Most of the Mabu inhabitants, as far as he knew, had been evacuated before the raid began, but not all of them. Armed birds like that grouchy teacher grew a pair of bright white eagle wings slashed, whipped, and pierced the Dark Elves, mages, and walking green beartraps as they tried to hop between islands on whirling funnels and smaller ships that could barely withstand the immense power of the hurricane. The normal evacuation ships were far too small to handle the winds and lightning strikes; designed for picking up greater amounts of the populace from any part of the island, their balloons and sails were exploding under the force of lightning, if not blasted in half while the only boats resilient enough to save anyone were limited to the docks.

Jets of flame burst out of one side of the rounded walls, their structure barely containing the forceful tornado as it toyed with massive chunks of stone and wood like they were made of paper. What wasn't burning in the aftermath of a strike or got caught in the crossfire of Eruptor and Spyro's collective inferno instead drowned in gallons of freezing cold rain and hail. The falling balls of ice bounced off the Portal Master's rippling orange plate armor, along with those of the future Skylanders who'd admittedly foolishly agreed to help him put glowing shields as cold and solid as the dragon's eyes on the active Skylanders.

They weren't going to be long. He just needed Hex, Skull, Roller Brawl, Food Fight, and Wind-Up's help to get in close and enchant the new Skylanders. From there, they could handle a few elves with spears and orbs of teeth if they worked together. The next phase of his plan was to get to the evacuation ships and see what they could do to speed up the remaining civilians' extractions. For as many moles the hastily gathered skyships could carry at a time, they couldn't get far without chancing a stray cannonball or collision with a spinning boulder. They weren't specialized for this type of assignment. George had shields, Hex and Food Fight had range, and Roller and Wind-Up had speed. They had to do something.

His first target was Eruptor, he was big and slow. Next came Jet Vac and Spyro, preferably Spyro first so they didn't have to deal with the bird's nagging, but whichever they got to first would do. Not that the Air professor would be wrong to tell them to get out. Stealth Elf... They'd figure out how to catch up to her when they got there. Until then, they at least knew where two of them were. Rocks levitated and mud rippled around them as George's hands were enveloped in orange light, a mirage of sand, and pebbles created from nothing.

Orange light slammed George against the side of the castle wall, shaking the already unstable structure and breaking off several bricks and wooden supports. One mistake Kaos made during their confrontation was showing him how to use the Warp Dash, his hands easily buried into the rocks. The wet rock cracked and molded around his fists as he made himself steady and began the climb. A tall Mabu he'd seen around the Academy and Eon's tower stood off to the side. It was unclear if he saw George peek over the top of the wall. That was fine, the Skylanders were going to see him, anyway, and the beams of light and rock that brought the four Aspirants to the top of the wall with him.

Four blasts shook the building, yet the wall held like the interlocking stone and failing cement were all one solid piece. If the Mabu acknowledged him, the calls were covered by the next lightning strike and their footsteps. The Portal Master's stride was heavier than his guards. Cobble cracked under his boots and water splashed out of his way. Hex levitated over the pooling rainwater, she and Roller Brawl not even flinching as multiple lightning strikes and some overshot fireballs collided with the inner side of the wall, leaving it at an angle. They simply floated and skated at a slight angle relative to the Shield of Terra and the rest of their team.

The clockwork robot and walking plant didn't fare nearly as well. George, at least, was able to effortlessly dig his heels into the stone and lean towards the floor to stay upright, like he was running along a wall. Wind-Up's metal feet slid against the wet rock; the amputee vampire, of all of them, was the one who had to grab him by the clamp and drag him with her. Food Fight was able to roll and adjust, jumping off the barrels and spear traps along their flank.

Something slammed against the wall, something strong, and it made the segment twist some more. Already, the plan went awry. Food Fight lost his footing, George had to warp to the edge of the tilting barrier to catch him with an arm covered in shards of an archer's port. Far from comfortable around the plant's hand and exploding fruit-launcher, but the grip was way more than solid enough to keep the two from falling. It was like his palms were made of grip powder. Roller only struggled to swing Wind-Up up to the higher edge of the wall, she was free to skate along the roughly 45-degree angle, unstable stone like it was level concrete. Hex had Skull fly beneath one of George's legs and shove him up as she hovered just over the edge, checking what hit them.

"I THINK IT WAS A WHITE KNIGHT!?" The robot answered for her, but it was hard to understand him over the tornado as it kept sucking them and the building in.

-<🌀>-

Jet Vac took longer than he hoped to find where Spyro had gone, it was getting harder to fly straight. The dragon was ready to crash between Stealth Elf and the many Drow attacking her and Eruptor. The Lava Elemental was doing better than her, not a surprise, but he could still use a hand against the plentiful Spell Punks and Chompies swarming him. Still, she needed helkp more than him, he promised her he'd be there for her, and the only supply of Chompies was already pouring its acidic guts and plant fibers over the floor.

The cobble melted beneath his paws and the flames blasted away the group of armored spearmen, Drow Yaribushi. But they were native to the Samurai Islands, far from Kaos and his Mother's frequented territory. What were they doing here? Did they know about the Eternal Air Source? Whatever they were here for, Eruptor grabbed one of them as they flew back, bashing their back over his forearm and punching another that was too far to grapple. The second spun to the boiling ground and the one who got away freely rolled to a stop. The back of their face mask billowed in the winds as they reevaluated their position.

Stealth Elf got a hold of herself and buckled one of her arms, making the Yaribushi stumble forward so she could kick him square in the chest and flip him over her. He slammed to the ground with a thud as Spyro's flames swelled outward. He didn't burn her, he couldn't burn her, not even as the bubbling waters evaporated in a second and wafted into her eyes. The sharp edges of the painted and treated black shed scales making up her armor glowed orange and rippled with heat. Fire grew around Eruptor, singing Chompies before they even got to the Lava Elemental's ankles. The shockwave of his horns-first dive had spread the plasma far and wide, lashing at the floating, shadowy legs of the Spell Punks and the cloaks of the Drow Witches. They were forced to step away, lowering their accuracy as the fire blinded them.

Didn't know I could do that. Spyro's tattoos flashed bright, shining pink with Magic through the intense fire. An inferno split out of the lines, starting pink and brightening into orange as he inhaled. Fire grew and steam billowed with every gigantic fireball he sent into the back lines, right over the advanced spearmen's heads. Two cleared out the Spell Punks and Witches by themselves, one more turned the cracking and crumbling tower behind them to rubble, blocking the way.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?" Elfie shouted into the Drow's face, grabbing him by the collar while her leg pinned down his weapon.

All she got were shouts as his legs were being roasted by the Elemental Paragon's flames. His rags were turning to ash as the steel plating deformed and his heels started sinking through the rock like his bones were chisels. The other two Yaribushi made the mistake of meeting the dragon's gaze. They were crowding Stealth Elf in the middle of a storm, a storm all of them and the Skylanders helped create in their rush for the infinite artifact, they were crowding her as lightning flashed across her white eyes and clouds blocked out all else.

His hyperventilating flared his chest until brighter, yet brighter orange light shone straight through his chest plates. The shadow of his skull was visible through his rippling orange scales as they shone like the heart of a volcano. The entire wall was being consumed by the heat when he suddenly snapped his head to the side, sending a stream of fire as large as his body into the chest of one of the Yaribushi, flinging its plate armor and skin off before it even had time to scream. All that remained on the wall was a pair of smoldering legs and some layered steel bands.

The rush of energy threw the remainders off-balance and incinerated the Drow Elfie pinned. Eruptor pressed his advantage against one while Spyro charged the other. His horns lowered, he flung them upward at the last second before contact. He deflected the spear while throwing his body upright with the tips of his wings. Molten rock stuck to the bottoms of the membrane and pearly spikes as his ignited claws slashed through the armor, across the Drow's stomach, and his right wing stabbed his side. The bone as much bashed the Dark Elf into the Elemental's enemy's side as it penetrated deep into his ribcage. Eruptor seized the chance to plow a left hook into his spearman, snapping and burning both of their bodies in one hit.

Stealth Elf tripped backwards. She took a knee behind the Lava Elemental and Elemental Paragon, clenching her fists around her daggers almost as tightly as she forced her eyes shut while they all but competed for the title of angriest meat-shield. What devastatingly few of Kaos's infantry hadn't been burned alive, cut down, or thrown off the ledges began slowly making their way up the rubble of the tower as the pyros burned the maimed Drow until they stopped reaching for their weapons, comrades, or their Elfie. They'd get nowhere near her.

A pair of Spell Punks made the fatal mistake of peeking over the peak of the debris. One had the foresight to immediately dash back down the other side, the other tried to relay what it saw. Eruptor's body bulged outward like his magma bubbled against the hardened rock making up his outer body and Spyro inhaled deeply, filling their bodies with Fire from within and without, the edges and gaps in the densely packed energy being filled with highly pressurized steam.

Eruptor attacked first, spewing a long and wide stream of lava directly for the Spell Punk's face. The molten rock fell over the Air mage's body and created a line over the pathway as the rippling light of heat outlined all the shadows within the ruins; there were a lot more gaps in the rock and charred wood than the dragon anticipated. Spyro charged on all six limbs. His wings left holes in the rock and his claws created grooves as they rapidly parted. He sped right over the lava line. His paws dragged brightly glowing clumps of material with him. Like a snake, his tail slithered lines in the liquid rock.

Gusts flung a trio of witches and a Goliath over the ruined tower as he sprinted. He lunged to the side as sharp discs were tossed their way, running left to the line and dragging heat with him, then bounced to the right across a ball of compressed Air, left again, then up. Streaks of orange and yellow swirled around his twirling body and coalesced in his wide jaws. The fireball slammed into the center of the ruins. Blasts exploded out of the holes in the rubble like water through a shower head. Boulders rumbled and fell off the island, many getting swept up by the tornado. There were no more attackers on the other side when they were done.

"ELFIE!" Spyro yelped as his deep crimson eyes snapped to the ninja.

Neither the scales on his body or Stealth Elf's had cooled when he dashed to her side, Eruptor right behind them. The edges of the purple and black slivers of his own flesh hadn't dimmed, sizzling with bright orange and white arcs. Patterns like the fiery light of dawn glinting off the surface of the Water Islands shimmered over the silk and her tangled hair. The fires of his wing membrane and spike flared as he positioned the wing over her head. Water didn't disturb her, it started boiling before it hit the burning orange flap resting on her head. His tail curled behind her and she blindly snatched the paw he offered before he finished extending it, like she knew it was there before he did. Her grip was cold, tight, and shaky.

Jet Vac caught up with them while he whispered to the Forest Elf. 'We're here' 'it's almost over' 'you'll be okay' he repeated. Eruptor nearly shot the bird, he looked like an approaching Air spell. The Sky Baron's yellow eyes narrowed into the dragon's cold orange irises, silent and detached, yet seething with the familiar defiance that haunted him throughout the Academy. Turns out Spyro hadn't changed a bit, not even under life-threatening circumstances.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO STICKING TO THE PLAN!?" He demanded an answer, all he got was the Lava Elemental firing at his feet while Spyro continued being Stealth Elf's umbrella... for some reason. This was more important than getting the Eternal Air Source? He stayed quiet for a moment, watching closely.

"I-I'm okay, I need to breathe." The smallest Skylander muttered barely over the rain.

It was Spyro's cue to hiss and growl at his superior. "THE PLAN'S MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE!"

"SO IT'S OKAY TO FLY OFF AND LET KAOS TAKE THE SOURCE!? WE'RE HERE FOR THAT ALONE, WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE DELAYED!" He yelled back, partially to be heard over the storm.

"THAT THING'S GETTING BIGGER EVERY PYLON WE LOWER!" Spyro stood upright on his wings, glaring into Jet Vac's eyes while pointing a talon at the funnel. "AND PUTTING THEM BACK UP WILL JUST PISS IT OFF! YOU'RE THE AIR EXPERT, AIR'S FREEDOM! IT'S NOT GONNA BE CHAINED UP AGAIN! THAT LAST SCREW IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING THIS WHOLE CASTLE TOGETHER!"

"THAT'S WHY WE NEED TO GET IT AND GET OUT!" JV argued, none of them had the time to be arguing about this.

"THE AIR SOURCE HAS BEEN FIGHTING THESE GUYS OFF SINCE BEFORE WE GOT HERE, THE PYLONS JUST KEPT IT FROM GROWING, WHY WOULD IT STOP WHEN THEY'RE TURNED OFF!?" Spyro questioned further as if he'd aced his Air Studies. He didn't do terribly, but there would always be a gap between him and Jet Vac; Umbra-Sol had been sure to nag him incessantly about his grades.

"IT'LL CALM DOWN ONCE THE THREAT TO ITS LIBERTY IS REMOVED. WE GET RID OF THE DROW'S PRESENCE, WE GET RID OF THE STORM!" He explained, having hoped he wouldn't need to spell it out for a Skylander who should've been on top of this already...

Then again, this was two of their first real mission, and a covert siege with minions on every flank was a far cry from a one-on-one battle with a powerful foe. Maybe he was being a bit unreasonable.

"YOU ARE AN AIR SKYLANDER WITH A HURRICANE STRAPPED TO YOUR SPINE, I AM A MAGIC DRAGON, STORMBLADE IS A SUPERCHARGER WITH THE SKY SLICER, WE HAVE NO CONSEQUENCE WHEN THAT STORM TAKES OVER THIS WHOLE FORTRESS! THRILLIPEDE IS NOTHING BUT A BUG TO IT, ERUPTOR IS JUST SHIT OUTTA LUCK IF THIS GOES SIDEWAYS, AND E-ELF-" He clenched his jaws.

That was his moment to push back, he should've pushed back and gotten a hold of the situation, setting everyone back on track, but the way Spyro's head of fire and burning horns just slightly tilted towards the Forest Elf as she tucked herself behind his wing like it was a weighted blanket; one of the extremely few aspirants who was either constantly stoick to her classmates' unease or deathly determined far beyond the point of appearing as a normal person. Where had this Spyro been when he was trying to discern some of the messiest essays he'd ever seen and bashing his head against a brick wall to get this single student under control. Where was this Skylander when they were preparing for the mission?

"L-LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME THAT WON'T JUST KILL US ALL WHEN THERE'S NOTHING HOLDING IT BACK!" He visibly fumbled to finish. His eyes twitched and his slit pupils thinned.

The winds darkened, a mix of middle and dark gray whirls obscuring the main keep and shattered parts of the bridge. It'd gotten exponentially harder to see the debris through it all. Cold rain slammed against the ground as it slowly split apart. One piece in the distance, while it was tilted away from the hurricane, was the only portion not actively falling apart at every seam. Burning wooden beings cracked like lightning. He couldn't even see the castle.

"TURN THIS PYLON AND THE FOURTH TOWARDS THE THIRD AND TURN THE FIRST BACK ON, I'M GOING TO FOCUS THEIR ENERGY ON ONE SPOT. I SHOULD BE ABLE TO MAKE AN OPENING!" He ordered.

"WE DESTROYED THE FIRST ONE!" Eruptor added.

That complicates things. He didn't have that kind of power. "THEN I CAN GET ONE OR TWO OF YOU THROUGH. YOU NEED TO GET THE AIR SOURCE BY YOURSELVES." Jet Vac, the only one who could open the tornado long enough for the mission to be completed, partially relented.

"I CAN KEEP IT OPEN IF ERUPTOR GIVES ME A HEATWAVE." Spyro's horns and wings burned brighter. "JUST LONG ENOUGH FOR YOU AND ELFIE TO TELEPORT INSIDE."

Fat chance he was taking that gamble. All it took was a small timing mistake for him and Stealth Elf to get swept up in the strongest part of the hurricane, and not even his vacuum pack was getting either of them out of there. Not before a lightning strike turned them both to ash and melting flesh clinging to blackened bone, at least. "YOU AND STEALTH WILL GET THE AIR SOURCE, WE'LL KEEP THE DROW AWAY UNTIL THEY CAN EXTRACT-"

A flash snapped across the Skylands just above them. Trees exploded like a bunch of firecrackers and glowing rocks rained down into the cyclone. The Forest Elf jumped straight out of her skin and nearly cut off her disheveled hair with how fast she brought up her daggers to cover her ears with her fists. Her fingers were clasped around her weapons almost as tightly shut as her leaking eyes. What little recovery she'd made was undone, her shaking legs thudded to the ground on her kneepads.

"You're afraid of storms." He muttered.

Spyro bared his iridescent fangs and stood higher between him and the Elf. "IT WAS JUST AN OBSERVATION!" He insisted and tapped his beak in thought. One of the two who were fast enough to get to the source wasn't suited for this mission. Aside from her disadvantage against Air, she was supposed to be the one Jet Vac could predict and rely on. Eruptor was a rocky bundle of rage and Spyro was... himself... and their only option for getting the Eternal Air Source Unless he could get Eruptor through the gap. They weren't leaving anyone behind, either; nobody got left behind. Besides, it'd be a lot easier to get the disabled target out than to guide Stealth through the raised Air defenses.

So they were going with the dragon's idea, after all.

Eon help him.

Chapter Text

"One of these days, I'm gonna get it right! You'll see!" She insisted, not for the first time that week, not for the first time that day.

Her father tiredly adjusted his oversized coat, limply sliding it off his shoulders and hanging it up on the rack by the door. Heavy bags sat under his barely open eyes, almost as heavy as the sigh he let out while removing his tie. "You say that every time you read them wrong."

"And I'll get better every time!" She insisted again, holding her cards tightly to her chest. Her parents never actually got her real tarot cards, too pricy, and Dad already worked way too much overtime. They were a cheap set of normal cards she got second-hand off a friend at school, she just labelled the Jacks through Kings with the Major Arcana. She tried her hand at sketching the Tower, but her hands weren't very steady, even with how many times she'd shuffled the deck and wore out the edges.

"And you say that every time." He repeated on his way to the fridge. Mom worked the night shift at a convenience store down the street, rent was bad and they were saving up for a nice little house in the suburbs, but she left dinner in a Tupperware for him.

"Because it's true!" Some of her cards slipped out of her hands, she rushed to pick them back up while he thudded before the table.

He started twirling a fork into the cold noodles for a few seconds, then raised and lowered it like there was a bag of bricks strapped to his arm. "Listen, Ryeo." He gave up and shifted the chair to face her. The dreaded 'we need to talk' pose with his hands clasped in between his knees and leaning forward. All he was missing was a tool of some kind like a spade or sledgehammer, then he'd finally be one with America.

"I know how much this means to you, or we wouldn't have come here. Learning English, getting the right papers, we've all had our hearts set on this for a long time." His foot tapped anxiously.

"I know how long this took, I know how much it costed." Ryeo huffed. "I just wanna make the most of it." Her voice cracked.

"And I'm happy you're so excited." He reiterated. "But you are young, you need to be looking at your options." He pointed to her cards. "Even if those worked, they are just slips of paper, they aren't going to feed you or put a roof over your head when your mother and I can't help you. You need to let this go and figure out what you're good at."

"But I love this!" Her eyes stung.

Her Dad started turning back to his food. "When I was very young, your Grandfather used to take me fishing. I would get all our ocean baits and tried to help him wrestle the boat onto the beach. One day, he let me pick what fishing spot we'd use." A small, exhausted smile grew on his face for just a second. A sad one, but a smile. "I made him drag us to the sunrise, all the mountain cliffs, the sunset, we even found a waterfall." He explained and took a bite.

"We barely caught anything that day. All I got were a couple fish the size of our fingers, he didn't catch much better. I was upset, and I was trying to be the one to catch dinner, so I asked him what happened." Ryeo had taken a seat on the other side of the table, looking down at her cards. She tried to shuffle and arrange them, but whatever didn't fall out of her hands didn't make the future any clearer, just her poorly drawn Tower looming over the face of the Queen of Spades. "He looked at me, told me to go inside and grab some more bait, and he'd take us to a good spot."

"Which spot did you go to?" Her money was on the waterfall.

"He rowed us to the end of a lake. The water looked gray and the oars kept getting tangled in nets and slapped plastic bottles out of our way. I said 'Dad, we will never catch anything here, everything is dead and ugly!' He just ginned and handed me my rod." Her Father looked up. "That was the day I caught something big enough to cook for everyone: your grampa, grandma, uncle. He had to help me reel it in."

The silverware clinked on the side of his plate. "He told me that when the fish swam through the pollution, it got harder for the birds to hunt them, and only a few of the older fishermen came to this spot becuase everyone else overfished the beaches and rivers, so the fish whose spawning grounds were past that lake didn't worry about predators, just food like our bait." He took a breath and leaned over the table, taking one of her cards and eyeing it before he looked back up to meet her hazel eyes. "The places we want to catch our fish from can be very different from where we will catch our fish. When we are young, we need to visit as many fishing spots as we can so we can learn which ones will give us the most fish, the biggest fish, and the most valuable fish. When we are older and know where all the spots we need are, we get to spend a lot of time at the beautiful fishing spots we saw when we were young, but had to leave because they didn't have enough fish."

He twirled the card around, admiring the tower art before lightly slapping it back on the pile. "And there will be many beautiful fishing spots that we have to leave behind. We can think they look good and spend our free time around them, but we will always know they don't have enough fish for us and our families. Reality will always win, we will always have to go back to that gross spot behind the plastic factory."

"That's where grampa kept disappearing to?" She slowly looked up.

He chuckled. "He knew what he was doing until it was time to debone it... Ryeo, I tried to start a band with my friends when I was your age, and I met your Mother when she asked to take a picture of my hand with my pick for her art club, neither of us have touched sheet music or a canvas for a long time; you need to stop with these cards and learn what you are going to do with your life. There will be time to play eventually, but you are growing up now."

His face contorted when the chair made a screeching sound and his back loudly popped. "I'm going to bed. That protest is going to back up traffic, I have to be up early. I want you to leave your cards at home and think about this at school tomorrow, okay?"

She looked down to her cards, not even cleaning up the messy pile of bent and torn paper. "Okay?" He repeated.

"Okay..." Ryeo relented and clenched her jaw.

He gently patted her back and headed to the main bedroom. "Goodnight, Ryeo."

"Goodnight."

-<🌀>-

Bringing Food Fight was a mistake. Plants couldn't feed off the Dark or tempest like Eon and Aurora's Light, the Drow's Witches and spearmen were absolutely merciless. No salvation in the mages, either. His explosive plants didn't hit them quite as hard, not quite enough to send them away with one hit. His only reprieve was from the small green creatures full of teeth, those were the only ones weak enough to be devastated by his explosions and their unarmored spawners. It was like living a video game, George sent rocks into the plants' sides and off the walls while squishing the bundles of teeth, trying to keep the artichoke behind him as clumps of compressed air and murderous frisbees flew.

Wind-Up needed aid against the creatures he found easy to squash; a relatively small amount of them could swarm and overwhelm the robot surprisingly easily. He could rapidly wind his body like a Jack-in-the-box before spinning his electrified clamps in a speedy circle to get them away from him, but he was another one standing behind George, keeping the Dark Elves away from the Portal master. While Hex fell in that category, it was for a very different reason. A wall of bones divided the Shield of Terra and Drow the second one of them got a little too close. And when nothing was in their way, pointy-toothed skulls and spiky spectral balls soared at the elves' throats and chests.

Roller Brawl was the only one moving far ahead of them. She viciously ran her wrist blades through several Drow, Air spellcasters, and green teeth monsters at such speed that water and wet wooden splinters were shoved aside by gusts washing off her movements. She ducked beneath flying blades and spells, deflected spears, and whirled one of her saws across the attacker's neck. He averted his eyes behind stone and bone barriers as the pooling water was stained red, as her spinning blades and arms leaked crimson, and her angry eyes aggressively leered through the fog and rubble for her next victim.

It made his stomach churn and hands feel clammy beneath the rocks despite the layers of minerals and concrete powders protecting them from the rain. It's what they're here to do he reminded himself. Soldiers worked the same way; his Dad knew it best. But that didn't make George a soldier. Being there in person was always different. He had to step over maroon puddles and empty robes riddled with gashes, not even considering the face-down warriors covered in hardened leather and thatch. The blades of their weapons were bent beneath the vampire's weight and momentum, stained red only by their own life, and the staffs were shattered like twigs.

Somehow they caught up to Stealth Elf first. Wet gray rocks covered George's forearms and legs, though they felt no heavier. His limbs were more sluggish with their constant shifting and grinding than heavy. The chafing never hurt his skin, the sticky wetness of blood never leaked between the bricks; it was like his flesh was itself made of gravel bound in a woven basket of steel cords. The elf wasn't so lucky. The silky lapis fabric of her armor sagged and droplets bounced off the black scales. Her hands were shivering, it looked hard to grip the unusual blades.

Jet Vac wasn't much further ahead, much to George's dismay. He was blasting a tornado gun into the center of a short corckscrew spire topped by a golden crescent. Stealth's head was on a swivel as she snapped at every lightning strike, every strong wind, every clattering rock, every crackling support beam, every single raindrop. At least the eagle paid them no mind, too honed in on whatever he was doing to scold them for joining in as a bright, buzzing beam of pure white electricity shot at the peak of the crescent.

FINALLY George gritted his teeth as many gleaming orange lights locked around Stealth Elf and Jet Vac's bodies. Thankfully, the latter didn't even notice, but the former's head shot up at the Portal Master. A rippling, vague suggestion of a classic knight's helmet formed over her face and an additional glowing layer appeared over her chest plate, forearms, and tucked in the rich blue silk. Two down, two and getting everyone one alive to go. The last step was going to be the hard part. How was 'the Earth kid' gonna round up a bunch of panicking and fleeing civilians onto a big ship that may or may not withstand the freak storm and massive amounts of speeding blimps and cannon fire?

This was the opposite of his domain, he was at every disadvantage, but he couldn't just leave them all here. There had to be something he could do, he just needed to figure out what it was. Hex and Roller could be of help, but he was drawing blanks on all fronts.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Elfie hollered over the winds, getting Jet Vac's attention.

"HOW DID YOU EVEN GET HERE!?" He also yelled.

"WHERE ARE SPYRO AND ERUPTOR!?" George demanded as more lightning struck through the side of the tornado, colliding with the pylon before the bird. The excess energy blasted around them, white lightning shooting through the rainwater.

"GET OUT BEFORE SOMEONE NOTICES!" JV ordered and steadied his shaking gun on the crescent.

Hex chimed in. "WE'RE A LITTLE PAST THAT POINT!"

Behind them, Eruptor thudded down the paths with some Drow and mages in hot pursuit. The smoldering remains of one of the giant, toothy plants was stuck to his foot and several ranged spells and weapons smashed and sliced into his surroundings, but his short legs were just fast enough to keep ahead. Determination and anger were painted across his bright red face, as well as a spot of confusion at the Portal Master and Aspirants' presence, but that faded quickly. They were the least of his concerns.

George raised the ground behind the Lava Elemental, blocking multiple strikes and cutting off some spearmen right before a blindingly bright and insanely hot fireball crashed into the crowd. Boiling sprays flew off the walls, he could distantly sense them splattering against the other side of his barrier, and a large cloud of steam billowed towards the hurricane. A purple blur soared over their heads and a bright white and light blue crack formed in front of the crescent tower.

Winds started deforming and curling around the tear as it widened, the Air gun spinning in the same direction as the funnel and forcing open a way to the other side. The purple dragon didn't even land or wait for the bridge to finish opening before he entered a dive and spread his wings at the last second, flinging himself through just above the uneven ground. They expected Stealth Elf to be next, but she seemed hesitant to blink to the other side. Maybe she couldn't get a good read on where she was going? It was hard to read her through the scaly black scarf, knotted hair, and shimmering orange armor.

Eruptor spun around and held the line as George's rock wall shattered like it was made of ceramic. Balls of lava flew at the gigantic, muscular green figure that charged through the brown material in a haze of rippling green light. Two shields larger than George's entire body were pressed tightly together, making a rush of wind and water pressure as the Drow sprinted after the Skylanders. The lava collided with the shields, barely slowing the figure down and leaving bubbling blobs of superheated rock in the attacker's wake. He spun again, slamming George into the crook of one Lava Blob and scooping Food Fight up with clear practice. The struggles of being a being without opposable thumbs, or even hands, but he handled it well (not that the Human's fragile ribcage was agreeing).

Jet Vac couldn't move; he was the only one keeping the tear open so Hex could grab Wind-Up by the arm and lead him through, dodging Roller Brawl as the skater sped up and jumped across the gap without either of them needing to look where the other was going. Again, Stealth Elf was supposed to be the first one through the escape route, save for maybe Roller, but she was carried in by a flaming streak. The flames washed over him, Food Fight, and Eruptor, yet they didn't burn. The same fire that boiled rainwater as it fell and reduced large wooden beams to cracked black and glowing amber blocks just warmed him like he was sitting before his grandparents' fireplace.

Eruptor chucked the artichoke across the crevasse and got ready to do the same to George when he managed to squeeze and wriggle out of the Elemental's grasp. Mud, dust, and sand pulsed around his limbs, summoned from nothing in an orange glow. His own orange armor swelled and gained a few small details, just a more stable outline, as Earth formed around him and quaked through the ground. A ring of orange blasted over the cobble, crashing into the Drow's legs, but doing nothing to stop the advance.

Since he couldn't stop it, he'd have to disrupt it. Multiple brown crags erupted from the ground right in the Goliath's way, just barely timed right to bash into the bottom of the dual shields. They didn't all connect, they didn't all manifest at the same time, but he was determined to put this thing down on his own. And yes, it was partially in hopes of making Jet Vac leave him alone. The shields were nudged upward enough to see the Drow's thundering legs. Its stride was as large as its shields, perfect for George.

He tucked and rolled downward, peeling some of the cobble upward to roll himself along. The Drow's feet sank into the shifting rock, yet it's charge slowed even less than when Eruptor attacked it. One of the heavy boots flew over his head and the floor shook with the weight of Eruptor diving out of the way, joining George in sending some rocks and fire into the titan's side. They did just enough to prevent the Goliath from barreling through the fowl old man once he took a few unnervingly casual steps forward.

George got to his feet while Eruptor and Spyro held open the tornado with golden flames, paused, and turned to the opening with the Aspirants and Skylanders. "HOLY CRAP GUYS DID YOU SEE WHAT I JUST DID!?"

Roller gave him a thumbs-up and smirk from the other side, but Elfie didn't react and the rest weren't looking. A jet of flames rushed back through the opening, tipped by a curvy pair of amber horns and a long snout. As the Goliath stopped and prepared another charge, the line gored them in the chest. The Drow's ribs flexed and snapped inward and his gut convulsed like he'd been shot with a twelve-gauge. Spyro sent him plummeting over the edge and zipped back into the clearing like it was nothing. George spotted a segment of slightly more solid stone and intact supports before grabbing Jet vac by the shoulder and Warp Dashing them both across, sealing the tornado shut behind them.

-<🌀>-

The icy seas swelled and swayed with force unexpected for the weather. No storms were brewing; on the contrary, there were nearly no clouds in the area. Even the beloved breeze was low and barely propelled any saltwater spittle onto the deck. His crew noticed, too. More and more water started piling onto the ship despite the otherwise stable conditions. It was more like the water itself was rising to the occasion. What the occasion was, nobody knew, but they wouldn't be deterred just because of some weird conditions. There were undefended villages and floating towns afoot! Those meddling Skylanders might not be this distracted for a long time.

Captain Dreadbeard had to steady himself with his golden hook on the ship's wooden railing as a sudden wave shook their starboard side, his scruffy fur got caught on one of the splinter-filled cracks, ripping some of the chips out. He'd replaced that damned beam so many times, but they'd be covering that spot with an iron sleeve soon enough! It was that, or trying to grab the steering wheel and sending the entire ship into a spiral towards the bottomless 'island' of cold, salty water. That was a mistake his predecessor made, the last one that clumsy fool ever made.

Some of his men barely stopped themselves from being flushed out by the tips of their canines and weaponised anchors as another large wave appeared from nothing and hit their port, it sent the captain stumbling back to the steering wheel. He gripped it with both his golden hook and large paw, swiping across the wooden tacks to get the ship back on a straight course. The sails caught a large amount of air, but they were being weighed down by the plainly absurd amounts of seawater splashing far above the railings, drenching the canvas, and splashing down on the Seadogs' brown fur and scrappy clothes. Their Seadog Skippers' gunpowder was as wet as everyone's hair, sending the men scrambling to get the sopping brown strands out of their eyes and get a handle on the situation.

The sails were adjusted, manual pumps were attended, and buckets were being passed around without him so much as whispering the beginning of an order; the thing about Seadogs: teamwork. That's how they drove the Walruses out of their territory at every turn. Clouds began to gather, heavy and dark with the weight of icy water. His fur grew heavy just by being around the gathering waters, nowhere near any of the splash zones, yet feeling just as waterlogged as his crew. It masked the Light of the Core. I'll never understand why them landlubbers be wantin' ta snuff it out.

Gleaming, rich blue lights started streaming through the impossibly high waves as they swelled and swelled, bloating with dense droplets piercing the Skylands and falling back down like titanic geysers. White water rapids condensed and shot up the heights of the waves, if they could still be called such a pleasant thing; they more resembled water spouts without the swirling motion that'd taken out many an overzealous and cocky, soon whimpering pup who'd thought they were immortal.

It grew more unnatural still. From the most minute wave patterns he knew to be impossible from experience to the biggest, most infinitely obvious magic interference, it all paled in comparison to the gradually brewing archways of water and trench-deep whirlpools. He had to fling his less-steady, pegleg-needing crew right off their paws just to barely keep half of the ship out of the abyssal channels. Their only guiding light was the rushing, flashing lapis light swirling and exploring innocently beneath the surface.

One of the aquatic archways blasted out of the plentifully disturbed surface right next to them, slingshotting the entire ship to the side and very nearly capsizing them. Some of his hounds were quickly and horrifically resigned to their fates down to the depths as his careful and practiced handling of the ship kept all of them from a watery grave in the seas they so dearly loved. But the archway responsible didn't fade, it swayed and continued pushing them to the side like their biggest ship was a rubber ducky. The glowing whites, aquatic blues, and deep sapphires of condensed water rippled and flashed beneath the water and above the surface; relatively small lines of glowing fluid slashed their hull with the force of an entire glacier.

It lifted as they were finally pushed out of range, though it was hardly a reprieve. The arch raised higher than their main mast, yet higher, masking the shine of the Core of Light that had shone their way across the unforgiving waters to their plunder, yet darker. The chill of the deepest maws ran through their spines as one end broke free of the surface tension. Its water tightened into glistening white, steely blue, murky aqua, and shadowy blue, sharp-tipped tendrils. Ridges appeared along one side of the cylinders like shark fins, then shifted to the spikes of a puffer fish, just to be again replaced by many bright rings of suckers around pointed beaks that snapped hungrily at their drowning Souls.

More pillars, more arms, more tentacles, more stingers, more tentacles, more whatever they were, blasted out from under them. Pieces of cannon covers and the weapons themselves were consumed by the deep like his most trusted vessel was naught but a dreaming child's paper boat. Spirals like the shells of sea snails, gaping jaws of gigantic leviathans, masses of coral erupted from the shifting waters and randomly changed between each other just as quickly; all but one.

One. One. One that became wider with more glowing triangular teeth, a gullet like a feeding whale, topped by a crown of assorted corals made entirely of water, of Water, and lined with displaced teeth and suckers and beaks loomed over the entire ship. Even further higher than the limits of its deforming and falling appendages did it reach. Ribbons of blue light slithered like serpents across its cold skin. In equal parts gathering and emerging from a deep blue spot in the center of the completely liquid beast.

Its core was both a glorious and profane amalgam of every part of the seas, oceans, rivers, lakes, and ponds; of every creature they'd ever seen, of beings they had no idea the origins of, of powers not normal for any sea dweller, it crafted its unstable yet unstoppable form. The deep blues quickly turned to cyan at the very center. A rift, there was no doubt about it, crackled smoothly and curved as it lightly wavered back and forth through the rough middle of the beautifully vile creation like it was alive and investigating its surroundings; it was completely unaware of and far above their presence, eyes never meeting their as they begged for mercy that wouldn't come from...

That was no mindless, Skylands-warping, directionless, and destinationless portal.

That rift was no mere manifestation of power, not alone.

That was a PERSON making up that rift.

Chapter Text

Honestly, with what she'd seen of Spyro and the specific Undead magic he'd needed her help with, those Yaribushi lasted longer than she was expecting. Then again, Cynder never actually met Stealth Elf. She was a blurry green ice statue in the distant Arena and that was the extent of their interactions. Whatever, they were Drow; they were practicing cutting down Skylanders before they could write, they knew what they were getting into. She'd be snatching some of their weapons and armor, though, that quality of steel was hard to come by.

The black dragoness rode and created bolts of lightning as they blindingly brightly flashed across the sky in quick succession, building up momentum and waiting for the right moment. Orange and red flames lit up the side of the tornado, masking her presence in smoke as she turned to shadows and her spines crackled. Static clung to the smoke particles as they rubbed together, generating more and more energy as the ozone burned to a crisp. The sulfuric stench and pleasant tingle of gathering electricity hissed through and buzzed around her dispersed body. Her shaded wings flapped and folded into her chest in tune with the deafening snap of the lightning bolt driving into the rapid spinning of the tornado.

Her wings' spikes and talons held crackling electricity between them as her horns and spine lit up like power lines. Dark and Light, she shone along the bolt, straight into the funnel at a careful angle. While Eugenie tore through the contents of their library, she'd gotten the measurements of the inner castle she needed. Some unexpected time had to be taken to eyeball how much the cracks in the outer walls had separated the front lines from the main course, but she was well within the margin of error for the size of the tornado. She didn't even flare her wings as she soared into the thick of it. Psionic force like a spear tip over her body deflected debris as she made minor adjustments around the largest chunks of the bridge, rolling with the motions, through the other side.

Instantly, the Air was calmer. Winds continued to roar and rain continued to pour, but there was significantly less pressure on her wings. The smell of smoke from Spyro and his living shield's Fires followed her through to the inside of the Eternal Air Source's defense. This Element wasn't supposed to be this resilient, she dreaded if the Earth Source was being held and taken advantage of the same way, but that hypothetical would be a problem for future Cynder.

In the moment, icy water clung to the ends of her wing membrane and formed icicles as she veered downward, blending in with the dark patches of debris like splinters of burnt wood and crates of coal sucked into the atmosphere. Her metallic daggers whistled as she shot towards the castle. Cynder scraped her talons along the shingles and edges of walls, using the abundant and frantic brain activity of fleeing Mabu to navigate with her steely blue eyes closed to the many woodchips and slivers of metal flying uncontrolled with her.

Finding the Air Source in such blind conditions was no easy feat for anyone. Good thing she wasn't playing by normal people's rules. She wasn't far enough from the danger zone to simply look for the purest form of Air, but she was good at measuring fear, part of what made putting down Drobot so unsatisfying. There weren't many Drow, Air Spell Punks, or Chompies successfully moving towards the main castle; and what few had were moving towards the Air Source. The large funnel and swirling ball exploding from the middle of their home was easily the biggest, most threatening thing around them all, especially to a flightless Mabu.

The greater the fear response in a certain direction, the better a read she got on where it was without revealing herself. The neural network method made the locations of the evacuation zones, where nobody would notice a flat black spot zipping between their shadows in the panic, very easy to track. Her wings snapped open, flinging frost off as she glided between buildings and weaved through nearly barren roads. They were only occupied by the clashes of Sky Barons and Drow, the Chompies weren't steady enough to overcome the strong winds and the Spell Punks weren't tough enough to counter the effect on more than a few entities. Drow Witches slung spells and hexed their allies instead of throwing their discs, anything with mass would be shot off-course. Goliaths fared better, though were too big to navigate the mole-sized pathways effectively enough to combat the eagles.

She was circling the castle by now, circling the Air Source. Though it had no mind, no sentience, just the will of its Sky Baron handlers, the will to keep it a secret from the Darkness and protect the Mabu, but she'd been around storms and lightning plenty long enough to get a feel for their motions. Freedom it may be, but even the weather followed some patterns; she'd had to navigate them with nothing but psionics and other people's brain activity since she was a hatchling.

She knew where she was going, she had a trio of flasks, and she had a goal.

-<🌀>-

"IN WHAT SKYLAND DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA!?" The flightless eagle loomed over the vampire, witch, artichoke, and robot.

George, running on fumes for the last few days, knew no fear or reason and sapped it right out of his followers. "On the castle at, like, 4 in the morning? Maybe 4:30?"

The burning purple dragon bit back a laugh, Stealth Elf's shoulders tightened and the edges of her eyes wrinkled upwards. Eruptor didn't hide his chuckle in time before the bird sneered his way and returned to George. "So this was your bright idea."

"Maybe it was, maybe I'm not some Initiate you can push around, maybe I didn't get warped away to Skylands to follow your rules." George growled. He'd heard these kinds of spats were what made his Father the bane of the Drill Sergeant's existence. Turns out it's genetic. "So you-" He pressed a finger to the Air emblem in the center of Jet Vac's armor. "-can chase your little storms. I'm getting the rest of this shit done." His finger drifted to the side, driving tremors through the cobblestone paths and towards the shaking bridges and unsteady evacuation ships.

He was gone before the bird could respond. Orange and gold light swelled over his and the Aspirants' bodies, dousing them in spectral sands, dirt summoned from nothing, and floating rocks before they flashed to the other side of the roads and inner walls like a strike of fiery, soil-filled lightning. Elfie's entire body flinched and Spyro finally burst out laughing at the bird's expense. He couldn't tell if hearing him break released or worsened the awful anticipation. The Elemental Paragon's fire grew, his horns appeared over twice their size and his claws looked like they were flaring up his legs and around his paws. Even the ridges along his spine and his frill brightened and scattered sparks around the burning cape made from his wings.

"I'm going for the Air Source, it'll recognise a Sky Baron." He quickly snatched back command. "You two hold the line, I'll take Stealth Elf to the Source, the storm will start fading once it's calmed down." His gun whirled while the Forest Elf steeled herself. Her dragonscale scarf subtly sucked in and blew out as she took a deep breath and cast an uneasy glance to Spyro and Eruptor. She looked like a lost child.

"You'll be alright." Jet Vac reassured her as light blue and white lines flashed along his body. Light gray and white winds gently swirled around the swirly strings as they formed the outlines of Air symbols, clouds, and thin funnels. "Think me an old man all you like, but we're still Skylanders; I have your back, I need you to have mine."

Silently, his former students looked to each other like they were speaking telepathically. A frustrated glare was pasted across the Elemental Paragon's face as he shook his head, a similar one was on Eruptor's outer shell as he swayed a magma blob between the pair and noncommitally huffed with a nod, grinding his teeth in disagreement with whatever he was insinuating. The Elf shuddered at another nearby lightning strike. Although it was far further away than the maelstrom shattering the skies outside the mega tornado, she still moved with such speed that he thought she pulled something again. Through the spinning of her sweat-soaked and debris-tangled hair, she tightly shut her eyes a second before forcing them open, facing him with a nod of faux-determination.

Good enough. There wasn't time for a storm-desensitization session, they could chat after the Core of Light was secured.

Spyro shot ahead, disappointingly predictably, in a channel of flames. Eruptor was right behind him, despite being the slowest of the team. Jet Vac lingered for just a moment so Elfie could gather herself and start the jog to the main keep. The blasts of fireballs and flowing lava echoed down the streets while the Sky Baron's vacuum gun took some opportunity shots on the few Air Spell Punks and Chompies, the latter being the only ones he had a significant advantage against and the creatures most capable of further overwhelming Stealth.

A bridge turned to soft grassland as the dragon tore into some Windbag Djinnis. Of all the extra obstacles that could've barred their way, it had to be a light blue tornado with a dense cloud for a head, glaring with two bright white eyes that were charged with electricity. He got between Elf and the Eternal Air Source's projection as it unleashed a beam of electricity at the dragon, who easily side-stepped without the of of his wings and tackled it... a formless whirlwind with only the translucent pair of eyes and a semi-consistent shape of a frown for a face.

He was about to groan in exasperation when the animated tornado roared with a rushing wind. Fire blasted out of its unstable suggestion of a mouth and got caught in its spinning body. In its final moments, it tried to charge another lightning bolt, but the rapid change in temperature ripped its hot and cold fronts apart, functionally exploding it within the dragon's wings. Spyro hugged itRunning out of time.

-<🌀>-

Some Drow flew off the edge of the island as rocks pounded into their chests. He didn't want to see them fall. Sure, they deserved what was coming for them, they deserved what was happening as they plummeted either onto an island or got swept into the tornado, but they were simultaneously some of the more Human-looking and less innocent folks in Skylands. Taking his eyes off the other soldiers was already a horrible idea, but mainly he didn't want to see them falling to their deaths as their weapons slipped from their grasps and their dead, pupilless eyes widened in realisation.

Chompies were easier to squash, they were far from cute dogs, they splatted like gigantic bugs and the Spell Punks weren't Humanoid enough to trigger that deep-seated part of his brain; Nor did the Humanoid Drow trigger that part of Roller Brawl's mind, apparently. She continued to mercilessly cut through them like it was no more morally repulsive than hitting a punching bag. Her wrist blades were soaked so thoroughly in a red sheen that the rainwater slid right off, unable to dilute the disgusting layers before she picked another victim. The only reason her sawblade legs were so much better off was because she used them to launch herself between corpses, down bridges, and up spiral ramps.

Hex acted much the same, utterly ruthless. For her worries about her 'lackluster' magic, the toothy skulls carved through leather padding, Skull glowed with sickly gray power and shot out spiked spheres, and walls of bones erupted right underneath soldiers and smashed Spell Punks against stone walls until nothing but puffs of smoky shadows and their robes remained. The longer they tread through the stone fields of storm drains running crimson, packed dirt stained maroon, and grass painted like rusted spikes, the closer Food Fight and Wind-Up's formation tightened around the Portal Master as their gears clicked out of rhythm and leaves shuddered.

They started passing Mabu and birds, fleeing and holding the line against thinning waves of Chompies and Spell Punks. Jet Vac's species, their wings large and gleaming with cyan light in the cores of their feathers, bashed away naginatas with shields lined with curved razors and countered with their own spears, coiled polearms ending with long points flanked by pairs of angled prongs at the base. Their helmets were identical to his while their thick gambeson lacked the metal bits and bobs and Air-themed centerpiece. Their forearm and shin guards were forged from shining silver cylinders and their sharp eyes locked with the Portal Master's. If they knew what he was, they didn't acknowledge it; they finished whatever engagement they were locked in and changed positions with a flap of their wings off the bridges and walls.

A few larger, tighter fights blocked their paths to the Mabu evacuation sites. Birds packed together and pointed their spears over each other's shoulders to drive as many spikes into the Drow Spearmen's chests as they could. One wiped the floor with the other side in the sky, the other had specifically been using spears for their entire lives; one had done well with tough shields and turned them into extra weapons, the other was specialised for cutting and deflecting with weapons that had larger, curved blades with hook-like notches in their sharp edges.

He wanted to help, but he wanted to get people out of here more. Stones lifted from the pathways to lift wooden debris out of escapees' ways and the ruins of houses levitated over the edge, off of the occupants. Mole people choked mixes of sobs and gratitude for the 'Skylander's' outstretched hands. Hex lifted a collapsed tower off a road with bones between raining skulls and spiked orbs on the enemy, Roller Brawl barely slowed her rampage against the Dark Elves to tug fallen Mabu to their feet with pure momentum, and the rest of their team worked with lightly armored, out-of-their-league, small-spear-wielding moles to get the civilians to the evacuation zones.

A massive ship soared overhead and came to a screeching stop atop one of the zones. The edges of its little wings whistled as it lowered and a ramp extremely quickly slammed onto the ground. People started sprinting up the small wooden blocks making shallow steps. George and the Aspirants rushed down a bridge, the last one between the approaching Drow and the civilians. There were more than he was expecting; between how many airships the Superchargers brought down like they were invading with paper airplanes, how many were swarming the birds and real Skylanders, and how many Spyro and Eruptor burned to a crisp, he'd been prepared for far fewer.

Wrist blades were held up like boxing gloves, skulls and thorny balls were waiting to crack down on leather-helmeted heads, explosive fruits were locked into a launcher, rotating clamps were spinning like drills, and stones peeling off the walls and bridges were prepared as the Elves silently rounded corners. They twirled their spears like his school's color guard with narrowed, dark, white eyes and stained blades. One by one, they painfully slowly got into a loose spear formation at the other side, watching the Mabu at the back of the evacuation line try to keep their kids and those just ahead of them from seeing how close the fight had gotten and eyeing the Aspirants shifting.

"S-STAY RIGHT THERE!" George shouted.

His face burned behind the orange and brown armor and pebbles he'd amassed along the way. I stuttered...

-<🌀>-

T-bone was busy handling some of the newer guards, Cynder was off doing another glorified chore for her Dad, even Smoltergeist was buried deep in that disgustingly hot forge ship, working on weapons and armor for the entirety of the Cadaverous Crypts. She'd gotten a lot done in the short time they'd been gone; loads of Undead were safely and instantly ferried to and from their offices' front doors, though it was getting harder to drive prices because of her lines being so much shorter. The mighty rift in her Soul pulsed with power every time she warped skeletons to the circus, zombies to the graveyards, vampires to strange magic berry and similar crop farms, ghouls to fancy kitchens, and ghosts to the deepest depths of the Crypts.

She still wasn't sure how they made a living hehehe off of scaring Mabu, but she came from a uni where the theater and film classes regularly threw together a haunted house. The Portal Master found some other work, just to keep the gold flow interesting. Many of the further reaches of Cynder's Dad's kingdom were as surprised as they were happy to learn a 'talented aeromancer' had moved in recently and was willing to make their windmills grind grain and pump water at the highest speed their wood could handle for an extended period. She tried her hand at water wheels and turbines, but didn't find the way they quickly and easily got up to speed as satisfying as the gradual increase of a rough, creaky windmill of a farm on the poorer end of the Undead lands.

But alas, she was called back by some guards to keep her existence on the down low, especially that close to the realm's borders. Deep in her heart, she still craved to see what more Skylands had to offer. She wanted to see how far she could make a tree sway and how many clouds of sand she could whip up out of nothing, she wanted to see how many avalanches she could stop and start and how far she could blast a bubble down a floating ocean, she wanted to traverse islands in a single bound and chase Cynder through heavy clouds.

She didn't want to meet 'the Skylanders' upon their gigantic moving castle surrounded by the biggest, most heavily armed renditions of every Element, she didn't want to run into a warrior born and bred to fight and die for the Light no matter the consequences, she didn't want to try her hand at teleporting away from a blood soaked child soldier armed to the teeth with blades and armor crafted from unusual and rare materials from all across the Skylands. Eugenie wanted to explore far beyond the Crypts, Eugenie wanted to visit the villages around the Stormy Stronghold, Eugenie wanted to see larger libraries than the old and limited selection outside the black dragoness's room; Eugenie wasn't stupid.

Jenny couldn't fight, Jenny couldn't go through her own portals, Jenny couldn't summon and dispel the Undead. She was practically dependent on the black dragon and her father's vast wealth, power, and influence. Her winds couldn't carve through steel armor. When she struck islands with lightning bolts, the dry and rotten brambles barely caught fire or launched their thorns. She could make small whirlwinds in the palm of her hand and wrap her body in a personal hurricane, but that was a far cry from something that could protect her from a zealous freak's crystalline blade.

Not that staying with the dragons wasn't alright. Their home was nothing to look at, the windows hardly offered anything worthwhile, but it was safe. They were on her side; Cynder liked her and her Dad was making an investment. He reminded her of her parents, and she'd mostly avoided him for the same reason, but it wasn't intentional! Some bad memories were no good reason to hold a life she'd rather forget against a dragon she hadn't even met. Heck, the Portal Master didn't even know his name!

It was time to change that. If he was anything like his daughter, he was worth talking to. And if dragons aged anything like the stories back home, he was probably ages old! How much magic did he learn? How much magic did he create? How much history did he live? What might he know!? What if Cynder got her smirks and sass from him? Or what if the king was more mischievous than he let his people know? Did she get the limp-wrist thing from him?

The absolutely gigantic, purple crystal-covered, rightside-up and upside-down, obsidian-filled, bursting with magic fortress. The bright purple gems jutted out of the castle walls, several keeps, and the massive set of gates with eerie violet light and shadows that dripped down the sides like water and mold. The guards were bigger, stronger, armed with big swords and shields well over the size of her body. Their bodies were completely covered in thick steel plating, no gambeson or chainmail in sight. And the helmets barely had anything in the way of eye slits, more like a series of incredibly fine dots like their wearers were peering through the mesh of a facemask.

Though they let her through, despite the very intimidating forms and obsidian walls initially blocking her. Even the wooden gates looked ghastly, made of dark planks each the size of whole trees and lined by spiky black steel. When they opened, they moved as smoothly as the dragoness who dwelled nearby; each of the many layers was chillingly soundless and their spikes sliced the air unforgivingly. Murals of burning castles, crumbling statues of ancient kings, and clearly forgotten relics locked behind glass cases were strewn about the halls. Some were burnt flags preserved in time by a dim shimmer of magic littered with spectral gears, others were pieces of pottery attached to a foam base so no glues or clamps would weather the edges.

Rusty weapons, corroded armor, grand works of art, and gems the size of her hands grew more common the deeper she got. None looked inherently magical, but all were visibly valuable, trapped behind countless layers of obsidian walls, heavily fortified courtyards, and a labyrinth of hallways poorly lit by unnerving violet flames. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all... Large, tough, and sharp brambles of bone-white roots laced with menacing dark purple thorns started sprouting out of the walls and red carpet floor, slithered along and around the old artwork, and burrowed back into the structure as she progressed against her better judgement. She'd already made a commitment to finally meet Cynder's Father; she couldn't back down just because it was a little creepier than the rest of the Cadaverous Crypts, she owed him that much.

Maybe it could wait... Nope! Onward!

The brambles brought her to the side, down a short corridor lined with those freaky purple crystals. Despite the very blatant safety hazard of having so many sharp crystals growing out of the baseboards along an absurdly large hall, the complete silence froze her heart. Eugenie had wandered for so long that she'd lost track of which direction she was going. The Portal Master assumed she was still travelling deeper, based entirely on the increasingly old relics and dead plants, but now it looked like she'd ascended to some of the defenses, even though she'd climbed no stairs or ramps.

Inside a very large room was a plethora of skeletons, completely motionless with their heads hanging low. She didn't need to inspect them to know they were little more than animated Mabu corpses, not those Human-ish ones 'born' of the Undead. Right now, they were orderless, computers in sleep mode until someone interacted with them. She wasn't going to poke a deceased Mabu, but she knew she could. Most of them were lining some conveyor belts and flanking large pieces of machinery, hands still gripping levers and legs hovering just above some peddles.

Honestly, the whole image made her think of a production line game like Satisfactory or Factorio; even the machinery was clearly meant to put together parts of missles or similar ammunition. Skylands' level of technology couldn't seem to decide if it was a bunch of mideval ships dependant on magic or modern warship guns, because these were not built with pirate cannons in mind. Shells, piercing tips, blunt domes, highly explosive payloads, there even seemed to be some of the blacker crystals embedded into copper cases designed to shatter into molten metal and glass on impact. It probably wouldn't take much to knock something over and send this room sky-high if she lingered or didn't watch where she was going, all the more reason to keep a very controlled haze of electricity in the palm of her hand for a light source.

Nothing here was illuminated, probably to keep the fires away from the explosives and gems, though it made navigating a nightmare for the girl whose not-so hollow skull wasn't equipped with a map of the area and her individual working path. Something like a giant conveyor belt or supersized ammo clip would drive the assembled rounds up to the guns and towers. It was built into the wall with no way to see where it was leading, no way to follow it to the open air and get a hold of which direction she needed to go, but also no way for something above to sneak down into the castle.

The blackness welled and persisted around her frustratingly dim, buzzing hand until a purple hue glowed from the back of the room. Another, larger purple crystal, easily twice as wide as she was and just a bit taller, glowed through the outlines of the inactive mole skeletons. She could see the beams filtering through their ribcages as she tried to get a better look. Nothing the girl had done came to mind, regarding why it suddenly activated, she was pretty sure she didn't trip any wires and knew for a fact that she hadn't touched any buttons or flicked any switches.

Shadows swirled like they were being picked up by a violent storm mixed with magenta sparkles for rain, flowing against gravity. Shimmering waves of several different shades collected into something like a pillar, which flared at the end like the snap of fireworks. In the middle appeared a pair of bright, narrow red eyes. The dark image got tighter together, yet the suffocating shades didn't even begin to fade from the cobble floors and the sides of empty skeletons, quite the opposite. Dark kept creeping along the rock and between the grooves. It was chasing her! It knew she wasn't supposed to be here!

The eyes didn't widen as the seams between scales became visible and countless long, sharp horns appeared behind the shadow's head and long jaws. Her heart raced faster than the puffs of spectral smoke that blasted out of the dragon's nostrils and fluttered out from its huge fangs. Forget Tyrannosaurus, this was going to chomp anything to death in just a single bite. The edges of the scales were pale gray, aged like Human hair and with many fine, shallow cracks along the tips. The horns looked metallic from some angles and bare bone from others, but there were as absurdly many as the maroon banners plastered over every wall in the domain. They sprouted out of the figure's head and ran down its spine just like Cynder's, there was a backwards hook at the tip of its snout, and some of its long teeth poked out of its jaws.

"Who goes there?"

His voice was low and gravelly, Cynder's Dad sounded more like her grampa than she was prepared for. The bright red eyes faded to a pair of orange and yellow, squinting ones at the same time as gleaming lines like cracks filled with lava appeared over his body; a living, breathing volcano, possibly as old as one and waiting for the right moment to erupt. Abundant wrinkles were around his eyes and between his brows, though his maw wasn't contorted into a disgusting frown or scowl. The long neck extended and leaned forward, looming over skeletons and angling the side of the head for one eye to gaze directly down at the trembling little girl who'd inadvertently intruded on his weapons system. The heavy thuds of lance-like talons and paws the size of boulders thudded from the other side of the projection, like the draconic equivalent of an old man's rocking chair creaking as he leaned into a camera.

"I see, you must be Cynder's little friend." He leaned back, rearing his head.

"I'm terrified- I'M EUGENIE!" She yelped, extending her arm for a handshake, then hoping against all reason that he didn't notice as she pulled it back to smooth down her braid.

His smirk was comfortingly familiar. Yep, he was Cynder's old man. "I see you've discovered some of my Lair's defenses." He muttered in thought. "I suggest you refrain from touching anything, quality corpses are difficult to purchase the rights to and this equipment is even more expensive. Now then, I can't say I've ever seen you in the flesh, young Treasure House of Knowledge. How have you settled? Have the guards and townsfolk treated you well? "

Eugenie still took a step back as his head swayed and slithered across the room. He was far from colliding with her, assuming the projection could even hit her, but the way he moved... It looked like Cynder's motions, it should've reminded her of Cynder, but they felt so far away. Maybe it was the size difference? Cyn loved to squeeze between the massive brambles, weave through rotting fences, and coil atop rocky plateaus; her father looked like he'd destroy everything around him just by existing.

Yeah, it was knowing he could turn castles to dust just by moving a bit too fast that made her uneasy... probably.

Chapter Text

The Terror of the Skies hated relying on dumb luck to race against the Skylanders, but there wasn't much of a choice when she couldn't afford to bring too many minions. The more the merrier! They say; the average person wasn't going to get hunted by her friend, his friends, and their old professor if too many red flags were raised. An entire squad of Yaribushi being deployed and eliminated at the exact same time they were getting close to disabling the Air dispersion pylons was more than enough, she didn't have the resources to slow them down further.

From shadows, she crawled and slithered across the cobble walls. They were a lot easier to get a grip on than the ones back home. Violet and black smears across reality like smoke trailed behind her and faded into the edges and gaps in the breaking cement. How long this part of the castle would hold remained unclear, just that it was a welcome break from the outside's complete, uncontrolled, poorly thought-out chaos favored by Kaos. No wonder he's such a disappointment.

Drow Witches and Air Spell Punks were already surrounding the Eternal Air Source, the pathetic aeromancer in the center while a three-part coven attempted to aid it in wrangling the Source. Maybe, if there were enough Spell Punks to fill the holding area and line the walls, they could get it to move, but the Air Source was far too volatile now that the crescent spires had been tampered with. One more Goliath was headed down the ramp, trying to intercept the Air and Life Skylanders while she effortlessly moved right beneath its feet. The Spearmen, and especially the Witches, were far better attuned to the arcane than the brutes who dedicated everything to the body and defence of their villages. He would never know what happened to the rest of his squad.

-<🌀>-

Zephyr and Cylo's wings ached and their talons were starting to dig into their yellow palms, but they couldn't afford to slow down. The Drow were more numerous than expected, appearing with greater frequency than the fortress was equipped to deal with in the middle of such an intense storm. This was more than enough to force back any attacker every other time the Stronghold had been besieged. Where did Kaos get all these Drow? Where did he get the funds and power to strongarm them to their doorstep!?

Focus, birdbrain! She chirped to herself as Cylo entered a dive. She followed quickly, before she even knew what he was targeting, the Shieldmaiden and Urumi Master worked well such ways. They spotted the Air Source together, surrounded by a ritual. Her spear was aimed right for one of their necks and his urumi was unfurling, the razor edge whistling in the sharp breeze and wiggling like a streamer. Their feathers ruffled, splattering the sky with all the water that had amassed throughout the grueling battle. Lightning struck around them, masking their approach in blinding flashes of light not even the Spell Punks were properly equipped and studious enough to see through.

At the last second, purple and black smog swallowed the Drow Witch Coven and Spell Punk. Their attacks were thrown off by the swirling haze, forcing them to redirect somewhere they remembered to be an empty space and slow their momentum as swiftly as they could. Their black claws smashed into the ground with the force that left ringing crashes echoing throughout the ruined chamber. She lost track of her brother quickly, almost as fast as a strangely low strike of lightning pierced the Darkness and sent her stumbling back with a wave of thunder.

Zephyr lifted her shield fast enough to block a splash of boiling red fluid, seared flesh, and scraps of burning cyan fabric from entering her recovering eyes. Her guard remained steady as the sparks of a colliding disc slid across the shield. Another strike of lightning blasted directly into the center of the shattered chamber the second she tried to push for the Eternal Source, sending the tip of her spear to the side and throwing the sharp edge of her shield dangerously close to her face. The stench of burning ozone and rain filled the room, the only thing guiding her spear. She caught something, a Witch by the feel of it, but the shadows were so damn dense it was impossible to tell for sure. She could hear the whip sword flying wildly across the fight and the sparks of melee contact barely showed her the way.

She charged again, more careful with her spear, knowing her brother was in the midst of combat with a foe they couldn't see but had clearly spotted them just fine. They fought like the Darkness wasn't even there and left the Shieldmaiden in the dust. Every time she thought she was approaching their hidden enemy or caught a glimpse of her brother's gambeson through the smoke, they crossed blades and he was gone. The winds didn't help, the Air source kept gathering and scattering the shadows like they were ordinary fog.

A ghastly hand outstretched towards her from the cover, sickly and skeletal with a long streak of deathly energy making up the arm. It appeared to be cloaked in a frayed and torn white sleeve that acted as a scope for her spear to drive directly between the bones. Luckily, her spear was enchanted for this. They expected Kaos to send more Undead the Stronghold's way, good for swarming tactics and quick reanimations; seemed he was keeping them in his pocket for the time being, though she thought she saw an Inhuman Shield and Dragonslayer Armor being thrown by the Source.

Toxic green mist and bright white ectoplasm scattered at in the fraction of a blink of the eye it took for her spear to drive through the limb, backdropped by the clashing and flying sparks of her Cylo's flailing urumi. A ghost with a white hood, the sides lifted like pointed ears were just underneath. Holes let her see the short Drow fangs through the translucent fabric as two more flanked the dismembered spirit, claws outstretched with a fourth lacking the ears but with a taller hood floating in the back; the Coven and Spell Punk. Ghosts and shadows on par with the edges of the Dark Master's aura... There was no way, right? No, the Terror of the Skies couldn't get here fast enough to intervene. The Crypts were on the other side of Skylands!

She stabbed one of the two-armed ghosts three times in the chest, in slightly different positions. One where the heart should be, one to the other side of the chest, and one to the gut before it managed to vanish. Zephyr made a left hook with her shield to cut through another spirit and finish off the one-armed one. While the Air Source carried the Darkness and ectoplasm, it also filled her wet wings as she threw herself forward to drive her spear through the core of the Spell Punk's reaped spirit and jab the final ghost in the back with the other end before searching for her brother again.

He and the Child of Malefor remained locked in combat somewhere right in front of her face, yet somehow out of reach. Her wings flapped back and forth across the open room, careful not to send her off the ledge when she noticed the sounds jumping. They were to her right one second, then right behind her the next, and then to another side. She wasn't charging after her brother, the sounds of the fight were bouncing back and forth across the cobble like they were teleporting.

Zephyr's heart sank and breath caught in her throat as she turned her head again. Levitating in the center of the room, surrounded by the Eternal Air Source's power, hung an eagle's head covered in rippling pink waves and a teal helmet. His head. The face was slashed across the eyes and many feathers were shaved off. His beak limply dangled and dripped red onto the cobble and into the funnel. She had no more screeches of battle or shouts of triumph to offer, her shield and spear barely lowered at the floating sight.

The gashes of the eyes snapped open with awful, burning red light and jagged streamers of malice. Cylo's head lifted just enough for the pitch-black silhouette of a winged beast to glare at her with crimson ovals, an obscured limb to wave over the tip of her spear, and blasts of lightning burned through her eyes like grapes in the microwave. The hand, or what she could only assume was a hand covered by blackness darker than the night Skylands, gripped a shimmering pink hook with many serrations within the curve. The spikes locked into the protrusions on the sides of her spear and caught it closer to the attacker as the gleaming pink of a psionic scythe appeared from the Darkness and glided across her neck.

-<🌀>-

Screwing with her prey may have been fun every once in a while, but she had a job to do. Cynder's three canisters appeared and twirled around her paw. One was a bit smaller than the others, though it was for someone special. Sides of silver steel frame holding blue gems whistled against the Air Source as she held it far away from the other, Petrified Darkness-decorated bottles, gathering a large amount of clean white Air. Some of Eugenie's golden blonde hair and saliva swabbed off of a cup in exchange for containers much better suited for the winds and capable of carrying power beyond their limited confines, a small price of a weird look if she somehow found out.

The other two were levitated one after the other. The largest was plated with platinum and black ashes while the other was more silver, both with large chunks of Darkness. She caught the blacker runoff from the larger bottle in the flask for her, keeping a lot of the purer Darkness out of her portion. The Dark Master didn't need to know about the other two collections, they were just a treat. Small puffs of white, black, and gray mist fluttered around each bottle's gems and crystals when they were full. She was all clear to depart.

Not like she was here to try snatching the entire Air Source, she just needed some of its power before handing it off to Spyro and Eon's Sky-lackeys. After all, the stronger the Core of Light became, the fewer people could destroy it before Malefor. He just needed his opening, then destruction and anarchy would reign over Skylands with reckless abandon, with the Dark Master at the top; not much use if he allowed Kaos to get to the Core first, based solely off a fluke. Someone else's stroke of luck wouldn't keep Malefor down, she wouldn't be here if it was that easy, and one of the best ways to win a war was to recruit one's enemies to the cause.

-<🌀>-

Heavy footsteps thudded along the bridge path as the cold, limp Goliath stumbled to the ground, rolling a short distance down towards Spyro with Stealth Elf on his back, her daggers buried deep in his spine and pulling some broken bones out as she returned to solid footing. Solid as one could get in the middle of a pseudo-sapient hurricane. Rain didn't stop the return of the Light Dragonslayer Armor as it clinked against its helm and cracked Inhuman Shield. The Haunted Guard's glistening spear crackled and hissed with unstable Light and the folding wings on its back thrummed like revving engines. Missing pieces of its white and gold overarmor were hastily and poorly grafted back in place, vidibly bent and forced to loosely fit around its leg and arm.

Spyro charged it before Jet Vac got a shot off, he'd gotten rusty in his old age and his eyes weren't what they used to be. Even then, he was still a bird of prey given the gift of a Sky Baron upbringing minus his Father, nothing stopped him from driving compressed air into the empty vessel's back while Spyro unleashed a fireball right in its face. It tried to deflect the blast with its spear, launching some flames towards the sharpshooter and ninja, but breaking the attack apart in the process. It couldn't reach them in that state, or it wouldn't have if Stealth didn't dash directly through the plasma.

A glimmer of the Elf he'd taught shone through the heavy, dark clouds and whispered through the roars of battle as she didn't even flinch through the mirage of heat and bright colors blazing directly into her white eyes. Fire rolled off her body and made the edges of her scales glow with heat. Her hair caught flame, yet didn't burn, trailing steam in her wake as she jumped over a vaguely electricity-like arc from the spear. It was more solid and linear than the relentless strikes from the storm, more like a laser with rippling sides, not lightning-like enough to trigger her away from suddenly tucking into a ball, rolling over the cobble with a painful smash, and gashing open its legs at the same time that Spyro tore open its spear-wielding forearm with his burning jaws.

The cylindrical slivers of metal from both legs and the arm flew across the broken bridge to the main keep and the length of its rounded wall as the Skylanders dodged a sweep in opposite directions. Stealth carried her momentum away from Jet Vac and over the polearm, Spyro very unusually slithered underneath it. Never seen him do that. He stabbed the points of his wings into the cracks between the stones and used them as levers to shoulder and hip check the knight towards the ninja so she could gash open the backs of its knees and helped support some of its weight as they flipped it over her back.

Metal scraped on rock and clashed against the opposite wall, one of the teeth in its shield getting jammed in the smoldering crater where Spyro had reduced that Djinni to a smoldering funnel. The bad luck barely prevented them from driving winds, flames, and blades directly into the seam of the chest plate and helm. Why don't Deus Ex Machinas happen to me anymore!? JV huffed in frustration while keeping the pressure on the armor. A strike of lightning blew up a tower close enough to them to leave the Forest Elf shuddering.

Spyro covered and pushed her behind him with a wing before she blinked to the professor's side. A stream of energy blew against the shield and JV charged a powerful piercing shot. The dragon's head tilted a little, he heard him, and remembered some basic physics lessons. He refused to let up as the Haunted Guard got to its feet and his breath started to wane. When it was about to rear back its spear, Jet Vac released the trigger. His shot rapidly cooled the superheated shield, widening the cracks with a snap that echoed like thunder; Stealth Elf went to her knees and squinted her teary eyes shut with her palms over her long ears.

"GET THE AIR SOURCE!" He yelled over the turbulence and hail as he backed against the foot of the ramp.

"NOT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR SCALY BEHIND BACK HERE WHIPPERSNAPPER!" Jet Vac countered.

Spyro turned around to check on Elfie. She was standing again, if shaking like a leaf, and able to shakily walk. Her wet gauntlet ineffectively wiped her eyes to lock on to Spyro's cold, disturbingly calm, yet burning with rage amber irises and slit pupils. His expression softened despite the Lesser Dragonslayer preparing its next move. He reared up in the tips of his searing wings and lightly pounded a fiery fist to his glowing orange chest twice; it made the flames of his wings, horns, and frill flare up like the powerful pumps of a bellows reviving a smithy.

Stealth Elf mimicked the gesture and started back up the ramp. "We're here for a reason." She vaulted over the still Goliath and forced herself to walk in a straight line towards the bane of her image. It was the loudest he'd ever heard her speak. Spyro blasted apart a good fifth of the knight's sweltering shield as it approached and grabbed its spear by the tip, yanking it over his shoulder and jabbing it with a wing, throwing it towards JV while inhaling another bout of flames. He barely had time to glance between the former students plotting against him before the armor whirled around to stab Spyro in the shoulder, just to be dodged.

The Elemental Paragon's Fire and Magic swelled, burning orange and yellow out of his jaws while his fangs and claws flashed iridescent and pink as he jumped towards and kicked off the crumbling stone turrets from where Witches had attempted to slice off their heads. He tightly hugged the armor's side as its own wings flashed to life in an attempt to wrestle out of his grip. They both smashed each other against the keep's walls as they flew down a hallway, right inside the building being torn apart by the Air Source.

"DAMMIT SPYRO!" Jet Vac cursed as he activated his vacuum pack and chased Elfie. The plan had been derailed more than enough. At least George's protection remained intact.

-<🌀>-

For some reason, Food Fight and Wind-Up took to George's shields and armor a lot better than Hex and Roller Brawl, which was more than a little inconvenient considering who their quarterbacks were. He was starting to worry the girls would get scoliosis from carrying them this hard. The artichoke and robot's greenery and metal distantly felt like they were clinging to the armor, its orange glow filled with rich soil that soaked up the rain and rippled with the flow of their movements. Explosive fruits broke the lines of far away Witches and spinning clamps wound up and released into the side of anything or anyone who got too close to the increasingly panicked Mabu.

Hex's bone barriers blocked the advances and Roller sped between priority targets. She shot between Spell Punk blasts and played high-speed limbo with the Spearmen's blades, slashing their leather boots open as she threaded the needle towards approaching Goliaths before they got the chance to charge. Slashes at their ankles turned the bridge red and leaps into the air spread clear and maroon water over the ledges as they slid across their throats and arteries. Her face nauseatingly icy, she didn't even wince as discs collided with her wrist blades and compressed air flew along her sides. Skylanders they were not, they were still Initiates of the Academy and a Portal master... Not that the Mabu needed to know that.

Funnels of light blue Air spirits started coiling into being as some cyan-hooded wizards in the background cackled and chanted. Hex's walls started to shake and burn as they launched beams of lightning from their cloud-like tops and angry white eyes. Every attempt George made to aid in the shielding of the mole people was met with another burst of electricity and balls of wind cracking open solid Earth crags. Sharapenel soared past their heads, though George didn't lose any ground. That didn't make a bunch of chunks of dirt flying towards the moles any better. Clumps of cobble lifted and condensed beneath his hands before he tossed them into the fight like frisbees. Drow went flying and ranged attacks were deflected. They were even forceful enough for the vampire to skate over them on the way to another Goliath.

One Goliath too many. The soldier took advantage of the clearing in his comrades to raise his shields, mask them in glowing green spikes, and rush down the evacuation ships. Even ripping the ground up from under him with a quaking stomp did next to nothing to slow or stop him, he stepped over holes and barreled through blockades. But Roller Brawl was behind him, she zipped between obstacles like she'd practiced that exact route a million times and dove over crags, launching herself upright and pushing forward like she didn't even hit the ground.

She spread her arms and legs right behind the giant Dark Elf, driving her wrist blades into his calves and spinning her buzzsaws along his feet as he marched. He had to lift a pair of slabs off the bridge to lock into her skates so the sudden stop and strength of her legs could rip her wrists along the back of the Goliath's legs, straight through his tough boots. It finally brought the Drow to a stagger, many strands of muscle being messily but finally ripped right out of his body like a bunch of ruby tassels. And even then George's bright orange shield tightened and launched into the juggernaut's face to keep him from breaking more than halfway through Hex's bones.

With sheer, incredibly annoyed spite, he drew a rock from the side without touching it with an open palm and slapped it across the Drow's jaw. Teeth and spit poured across their side of the front line as Skull and blinking, spectral ball hit him from the other side, sending it into the rails. Another identical orb circled the three as Hex levitated higher, getting a vantage point on the Air Spell Punks still summoning Windbags and raining toothy skulls on their pointed hoods. Food Fight uneasily looked back at the Undead Witch and Wind-Up visibly tried his best not to do the same, even with how featureless and expressionless his metal plates were.

George lifted some rocks under the Goliath's legs, sending it over the edge as Roller started being pushed back. Her blades buzzed and sparked against the ends of naginatas, ripped out Chompy teeth, and deflected ranged spells desperately. She couldn't move, she was free to skate yet pinned down by the volume of strikes coming her way. A lucky Witch's disc hit her in the arm. George's shield shimmered and quivered. It hit hard, hard as the Air and Undead, almost as hard as Kaos's Dark aura. Dark magic against golden Light. But he wasn't down for the count yet, she was still stuck back there.

Her shiny black sleeves failed to protect her against the difference in power, small droplets of blood leaked between the black spandex (he assumed) and the orange shine of his armor. The Life and Tech Aspirants covered him as he reached through the broken bone pillars, grabbed her by the other arm, and hauled her behind the shield. Some spears clipped him in the back as he spun around and backhanded a Drow across the face. Fortunately, stabbing a bunch of rocks didn't work as well as magically piercing rays of light. The Dark Elves were retaliated against by a flurry of spiky, dark purple spheres and a floating Skull with a mad cackle. Even they could only make so much progress before running out of steam.

What they'd do if another Goliath showed up before the Mabu finished evacuating was a problem for future George. For now, he and Hex did their best to reinforce the wall as more attacks bombarded their position and cracked the boulders and walls and island around them. Food Fight leaned between some crags and cracked bone to take some shots at the closest Drow. As he did, the barrel of his gun flashed lively, forest green. The same color swirled around Roller Brawl's injury; see-through vines covered in leaves sept into the gash until it was stitched together, all that was left was the tear in her uniform.

"You can heal?" George pressed his hands against the dirt wall while turning his head to the artichoke, it was beginning to come down again.

"What kind of Life Skylander would I be if I couldn't?" He just smiled and sprouted tomatoes from the soil around them, then loaded them into his launcher like they were in the middle of target practice. "I've been working on a way to attach a zuchini to the bottom with a regeneration bonus-" Something bashed against the other side and a wave of heat wafted over the top. "On second thought, it can wait!"

Chapter Text

The draconic king, remaining more like someone's Grandparent than the Father of the dragoness she'd come to spend the best, most important parts of her life with, lightly swayed idly like a cobra leaning forward to bite, but he never bared his fangs or opened his jaws to blast the Portal Master with a jet of flames. His big eyes had wide, oval pupils and bright yellow lining. She couldn't tell the difference between his irises and sclera. Dark smoke and purple light filtered out of his nostrils and between his teeth as he forced a tight, visibly strained smile like the right muscles were seldom exercised or sustained an old injury.

With a black spark of chaos and weird gothic whimsy like Cynder for a daughter, Eugenie quickly banished the first option. Even with her clear distaste for his portraits and the one hung up in her room, they clearly shared some tastes and eccentricities, and probably a sense of humor. Jenny's gold was on japes. The Portal Master wasn't sure why, but Cynder sure stuck her that way with her stolen costume while trespassing in a mall. Were there dragon-sized hand buzzers that wouldn't immediately cause an arc flash if jostled the wrong way? She was a Portal Master! She'd make a rift to one if it existed.

"I don't imagine my guards would be so callous to a stranger, except when the opportunity to frighten presented itself." A rough chuckle shook his throat.

"T-They've tried before, Cynder didn't let them until she decided I made myself at home." Eugenie muttered beneath his gleaming eyes.

He leaned forward and shifted his head to the side. "Do speak up, young Portal Master. The years have been cruel, even to myself."

"They haven't gotten me yet!" She held her hands around her mouth like a megaphone and repeated.

The entire room trembled with his laugh. It was the super forced one her Mother used to pull in front of the neighbors, that much she was familiar with, but he had some tears stinging his eyes at the same time. His left paw lifted to line his smile and flick the salty water away. Something was wrong with his middle claw. The index talon that wiped the tear had nothing amiss, but the other half of his paw rested at the side of the projection. It shimmered and distorted from the knuckle to the claw. She couldn't see where the middle finger was, but the third was easy to make out the shimmering of. Was he missing a claw? Actually, odds were he was just holding it at a weird angle. The simplest answer was often the right one.

"That will not last long, the dead are persistent." He smiled. "Ah, forgive me, but a king is expected to uphold a certain image and projection." His smile minutely twitched and strained.

"Well... I'm not one of your subjects! I'm just a guest, right? So..." She trailed off.

His smile widened again. "I suppose you are an outsider." His posture slacked and he shook his head like a dog flinging off water.

Just an outsider. Eugenie swallowed and wiped her sweaty palms on her leggings. "Right..."

"Now then, why would you be exploring my main castle? The guards may have allowed you inside but my domain is not a tourist attraction." The king leaned in with suspicious, squinting eyes and a mischievous grin. Again, it was so similar to Cynder's smug, at times catlike, demeanor, yet something else entirely. Jenny couldn't place it, just that it wasn't the face of the sly dragoness she adored. Then again, he wasn't Cynder, just her Dad. Naturally, everything about him would be juuust a bit off from her point of view.

"I-I just wanted to say thank you for letting Cynder drag me here, and giving me a room and all this." She tugged down the bottom of her maroon long-sleeve over her leggings and balanced on one of her leather boots with a grateful smile, slightly kicking her other leg out and pulling her sleeves over her wrists.

Her reverence pleased the dragon king. He lifted his head high and curled up his jaw over her. "And for that, you are very welcome. I can't help but notice you're lacking a certain cloak." He offhandedly mentioned before facing her straight forwardly again.

She hadn't even noticed she'd forgotten the maroon sheet and its golden ornament. "Oh! Cynder doesn't like when I bring it to practice. It makes it hard to see when I'm doing something wrong, especially with Air magic."

The dragon nodded in understanding. "Very well." He sighed and turned away. "Nevertheless, my daughter and I have certain duties to attend to as King and Princess. I appreciate your arrival, but I must depart."

"I-I-I can bring it if I come by again!" She raised a hand in pursuit and almost stumbled into the swirling Darkness around his ethereal image. "A-And I, uh, I never got your name?"

The king snorted in amusement and his tired, aching smile returned.

"Ignitus, my dear."

-<🌀>-

Spyro's wings fought against the Haunted Guard's Light rockets as they threw each other against the stone walls, arched ceiling, and the floor. Gray scrapes smeared over his scales and wiped away his makeup, steel sparked like a blade against a grindstone. Wavy pink and purple streaks followed the tips of his wings, melding with the fire of his wing membranes, his frill, and his horns as they repeatedly bashed into the knight's weapon and armor. His teeth sank into its gauntlet, crushing its forearm as they rapidly approached the end of the rounded building.

He managed to drive them into the floor of his own will, grabbing it by the shoulders and jamming his hind legs into the ground around its midsection to pull it in front of the wooden railings. They shattered into splinters against its back. While stunned, the dragon bent a wing to make them follow the spiral ramp lining the inside of the Air Source's fort. He shoved it into the lining, wriggling up at the bases of the rails and further down the solid rock as the Lesser Dragonslayer grinded against the granite.

His horns and the side of his face bashed into some of the railing's posts as it got a hit in across the Magic Skylander's face. The Inhuman Shield cracked, losing some mass. Only about a tenth, including a tooth, but Jet Vac and Spyro's attacks turned it to glass. He braked mid-air, ripping the knight from around the rocks and throwing it to the floor. Spyro twirled as it fell and dove in pursuit. Fire wafted out of every amber feature and his cold ruby eyes. At the last second, at the loud crash of the knight against the cobble, he turned his dive into a front flip that slashed a golden arc in front of him with his tail. The fires condensed around it, drawn in by momentum so he could exhale a massive fireball.

With a roll and some sparks, the animated armor got up and flared the gold light of its spear. Slash! The tip struck across the fireball. Not a perfect deflection, three more severely large clumps of the Inhuman Shield blasted off. Almost halfway gone. Spyro finished his dive while he was hidden behind the burning explosion, lung-clogging silica, and stone shrapnel. The thuds of his forelegs thudding into the heated stone were masked by the clattering of the shield's parts, even the beginning of the wide stride he took to charge blended with the flaming anarchy. His horns slid beneath the shield and gored through the center of the armor, though the ridges jammed against the Light overarmor. The shaking disoriented him, forcing him to pull back before the spear came for his side.

A beam of wavering Light chased him away; Spyro dodged skyward and to the side, diagonally with a spin that surrounded his scales with coils of fire and a mirage of heat. Ember danced away in a wider curve and detached lines of plasma arced away from his body. The next fireball wasn't as large as the previous, but was still able to rip open more of the shield. Over halfway gone, its other Light over-gauntlet was almost within reach. Next would come its crown and torso; nothing would defend it from his breath and claws.

A blade flashed out of the spear tip and its blasted after him with its sparking wings. They sputtered and flickered in the dash, damaged by the repeated wall-pounding. He was afforded plenty of time to get out of the way but wasn't ready for the shield to be thrown into his side. Burning wings caught on the enclosed space's stale draft as he rerouted around the target. It was picking up the ruined shield when he spotted the abundant weapons racks about the perimeter. He'd been so focused on the battle, he didn't give the environment enough attention. A stupid mistake that could've cost someone their life. Obviously the building with the Air Source had backup weapons, idiot. And he spotted the perfect contender.

Puffs of smoke clouded the area while Spyro fetched a greatsword from the racks. It had a pair of prongs in the middle of the blade that he easily slotted between his claws and got into position before the knight. They lunged at the same time, broken Light against extinguished and tired wings. Spyro made like he was going to stab, baiting the animated armor into the same maneuver with its better-suited weapon. He twisted before the clash, deflecting the tip along his blade. Choked fire burned along his throat as he side-stepped with the aid of his wing. Its back to him, he spun the sword over his head and blew a puff of flames into the back of its knees to soften the metal for his slash.

The leg came clean off and Spyro quickly carried the heavy sword's momentum over his head to bring down on the crowned helm. Sickly green and purple spirits reached for the severed legs while the rest of the body rotated to block. The sword got stuck in the middle of the defense. Thoroughly jammed, the Elemental Paragon used another small fireball to direct away the spear while they pushed back and forth like the shield was sawed wood.

But Spyro was stronger, Spyro was faster, Spyro was smarter, Spyro was a Skylander, he had to be perfect. This was what he wanted his whole life. He slammed his horns down on the shield and pulled his paws away from the blade. He smacked his palms on opposite sides of the guard. He grabbed and twisted them further with his talons and wings to split the shield. It crumbled off its handle and he ducked and spun beneath a stab, slashing against the warrior's side. The sheer strength behind the heavy blade launched it backwards, right onto its severed leg. It gripped the spear with both hands as the leg readjusted, then ran at Spyro again.

Though his fires were out and his breath was waning, Spyro sprinted back. The problem with animated armors: their programming. They were predictable, even the advanced ones operated off an increasingly complex set of predetermined, if skilled and precise, attacks. He was fighting a video game boss that could only store so many different ways to swing a spear. The same maneuver, the same counter, he baited it to punish with a feigned stab just to swat the speartip away with the end of the greatsword and smash it in the face with the pommel. Its crown bent more and one of the bits of Petrified Darkness fell out. Bash and slash, he dented and jostled its other arm guard, then quickly smacked it the rest of the way off the knight with his shimmering pearl claws.

He slammed the pommel into its head again and lifted the sword above his head as the Haunted Guard reeled. His advance was stopped by the spear's staff, it had much better control of its weapon now that the shield was gone. Still, the blade lock wasn't possible for the dragon to lose. It knees buckled 'neath his strength and glare. They didn't break fast enough. The fire in his chest wavered again and again. Why wasn't it working? Why haven't you caught your breath already, you worthless wurm. He lifted a paw to the tip of the sword, or as close to it as he could reach, and gently tugged it towards his body. It twisted the armor's hands outwards in a way they weren't designed to bend. The protective stops on the ends of its joints didn't allow such mobility.

Before the spear slipped from its hands, it flashed and crackled and sparked just like the blistering hiss of its faulty wings. A flash like golden lightning struck Spyro in the chest with the force of a falling island and sent him crumbling to the ground several yards away. His horns pulled chips of stone up as he rolled and his greatsword slipped from his grasp. I can't even get a hold of myself it for one fight. He shook his head, letting the sword lie abandoned at his side for a moment. The soldier needed a crucial moment to find its footing and shift its spear to face him.

The Skylander threw himself forward with his wings, curled around its body with the momentum of his charge, and gripped the Dragonslayer by the cuffs of its shoulders. Wings roaring with the weight of falling trees and fanning smoldering gray fumes in their wake, the dragon chomped into the neck and repeatedly dragged his four sets of claws across the back and wing bases. They fell off like twigs and slowly, one by one as they neared the top of the Eternal Air Source's shrine, the shoulder pieces and some segmented back panels peeled away.

Darkness was abundant here, something was happening to the Air Source. Only once had he ever truly encountered the Darkness, yet he could recognise the corrupting, withering aura through the bastion's top floor. Kaos wasn't here, but something had beat them to their prize unless Jet Vac and Elfie could intervene. This whole time he was on a time limit. And what was there to show for it? Spyro flung his head down and tail up, jamming his horns between the knight's shoulders. With the back stroke, he chased it down and slammed it to the floor before chasing his the greatsword.

There were three rings along its back, binding the Light overarmor together. But the two at the shoulder were bound much better than the third at the base of the spine. They made a triangle; it'd fall apart if he took the top two out of the picture. A beam of Light nearly blazed through him, yet only blew a shallow spot of soot into the opposite wall. Why does Light hit like a damn airship all of a sudden!? He blasted a fireball into the floor, another small puff of smoke, and scraped purple paint across the ground as he dove between its legs. A ring of Light burned his paws and the tip of his tail as the spear was driven into the ground, but he stayed.

Spyro's underbelly, the bottoms of his wings, and lower jaw burned and his purple makeup blackened as the rays intensified, but he persisted to blast a stream of flames into the supporting rings. The sword cut through the first one easily. The force jostled his enemy's stance while sparks and molten shards of metal flew. The rays of white and gold Light hissed and swelled until both of them were sent across the room. The dragon caught himself with his aching wings and jumped right back into action. He could feel by the most minute change in the drag and weight of the blade that the heat had deformed its edge, but it was still fine enough to burrow through the last ring if he got the angle right.

Wind rushed through his scales and claws, right after his target and...

He missed.

The different drag, the barely noticeable bend, just twisted his wrist and threw off his balance enough for the edge to flatten against its back, which was much better fire-proofed than the Light layer's supports. Excuses. The falter cost him the end of a spear in his gut and across the seam between his wing and ribcage, but not before he swiped a claw through the ring. The front of the Light armor slid off and down its hips. Its bottom straps got caught around the thighs and restricted its movement. That made it miss the next beam of Light by a mile; the streak of ash across the bricks was thin and faint for how far it threw Spyro back the first time.

His sword bent and the armor creaked as he leaned in. Wedging the tip between the normal and Light panels, the dulled edge ground against a leather strap until it snapped off. All that remained was that damned crown and he could be free of this thing. Spyro shot a fireball directly in its face and whirled a hind leg around to step on the spear, he held the sword as high as he could with the extra bit of height and slammed down, right in the center of the tiara, shattering a shard of Petrified Darkness. Smoke from his nostrils wafted over the broken wisps of vile shadows as they escaped from their golden confines.

The Light and Darkness clashed in the middle of the Dragonslayer Armor's eye line in sparks of gold and purpling puffs of poisonous smog. While its vision was obscured and the spear wwas stuck under his paw, Spyro ditched the broken sword and grabbed the helmet by the sides of its head. His wings folded around to stab the sides of the crown like he was gouging someone's ears. One of the Dark crystals flicked into his face, the other flew off into the background, and the shattered middle scattered across the floor like glass when he took a deep breath, trying to muster some flames. But all his anger, his Passion, was burned out.

-<🌀>-

Despite her head start, Jet Vac beat Elfie to the top of the tower. Blood trailed between the cemented gaps in the cobble, watered down by the pouring rain and trickling down the ramp. The Forest Elf threw herself faster up the path by digging the pearly tips of her daggers between the stones. Chips and concrete slivers flew behind her along the way. They appeared to the scene of a Drow Witch coven slaughtered like sheep. An empty, ragged cyan robe rested peacelessly right before the Eternal Air Source, flanked by the headless bodies of a pair of painfully young Sky Barons. The girl, who just had to be a Shield Maiden, still clasped her spear just like he did at her age. Gone too soon.

But their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain! I won't let it! A smaller funnel swirled violently before them. Stealth Elf quivered and covered her head with her daggers at the flashes and cracks of the frequent lightning bolts and blasting thunder bursting out of the translucent funnel. The Air Source didn't hide itself, it couldn't, it gleamed between the dense streaks and rings of swift winds like a shining light in the dark storm. It was the deceptive calm in the center of a hurricane.

That didn't stop him from taking an even breath, steeling his posture, gently closing his eyes, and stepping right into the fray. He could hear the panicked yelp come from Elfie as she witnessed him melt into the miniature tornado, but she was too late to raise her concerns. His Skylander markings glowed, filling the funnel with strings of cyan making curly clouds out of an old painting and spirals of the Air Emblem. They weaved through his feathers like they were exhaust for fiery engines and his black claws appeared as blue as the infinite skies.

Ribbons swirled and stretched out of his shoulder blades, out of the sewn-shut seams in his gambeson where the burnt stumps of his wings were masked and made a heart shape behind his head that slowly split apart near the base of his tail. They curled around his upper arms as his free arm reached out to the Air Source, cradling the oval containing a pure white tornado. As his lost wings spread and his claws gently plucked it from its floating space, the Air Source calmed and abated. It recognised him, though it only had restricted contact with his species on the downlow. Its bottom molded into the palm of his hand as the storm started to disperse.

He didn't let the lightning, rain, and winds disappear completely; the evacuation ships, defenses, and Flynn's getaway still needed some cover. Although he willed the lightning to the edges of the Stronghold with some electromagnetic theorems, using the distant walls as guidelines for circuits. Stealth Elf immediately started to calm down, he could feel the tension in her every muscle loosen through the rushing of the small tornado before it finally disappeared.

The Eternal Air Source was secured, the storm returned to a tolerable level, and Stealth Elf could stand on her own two feet. He landed with the gentle taps of his glowing talons on the cobble and disarmed his vacuum pack. It shifted off his four shoulders with a click and thud, he turned to twist the knob on top to open the container. His markings continued to swirl and writhe away from his body in wisps of glowing sky blue wind like wafting steam, small hurricanes about his joints and around his limbs, spinning out of his chest and blowing down his tail feathers as they lined his missing wings. Just for a moment, if only as specters he was extremely rusty with to the point of being functionally vestigial, his wings returned to him.

Her long ears pressed tighter against the side of her head, both pinning down and becoming entangled by her messy blue hair. Her blank eyes softened and closed with serenity as her shoulders slacked. She got control of her breathing and loosened her grip on her daggers. Dark red leaked along the leather-bound handles from the bottoms of her palms. One of her ears angled slightly towards the remaining walls. The tension returned to her shoulders and fists, though not nearly as violently.

Elf ignored the distant strikes of lightning, muffled by the powerful breeze, and vanished in a puff of green. The harsh strike of metal on metal sparked behind one of the walls just before a choked, wet gasp, another, and one more where he could see the bright and quick sparks zapping up the right side of the ruins. Three green heads peeked over the edge with the long blades of copper-like glaives. Stealth Elf burst out of a toxic emerald cloud, shooting across the three Spearmen. Her scaled knee caught one in the jaw, sending her into a spin she used to slash through the second and extend her other leg to swipe into the third's face. She landed atop the crumbling wall, stabbed a dragon tooth into the final Drow's eye as a pair started ascending the ramp behind Jet Vac, then slashed into the first, he'd managed to recover and climb over the ledge against her expectations.

Even with her eyes still closed, she blinked before one of the running Spearmen and deflected a stab of his weapon, then roundhoused his weapon beneath her plated boot. Stealth's heel dug into the tightly-wound thatch fastening the blade to the staff and lunged off of it to swipe her knives across the Dark Elf's throat. They mostly got caught in and stained the leathery facemask while she blindly moved on to the next, gashing open his leg in her escape.

She leaped over a horizontal cut with a spin, opened and wrapped her legs around the attacker's neck while her hair swiped over the other's eyes and continued rotating with a killing gold punch to the back of the Spearman's head. She grabbed the end of her hair with one hand, dragging the standing corpse to the ground. Their combined weight and momentum took the final Drow to the ground and bashed his skull against the cobblestone. She didn't even bend her knees with the force of her landing, moreso to lower herself enough to drag the pearl dragon fang across the Elf's chest, longways through his windpipe, and into the bottom of his jaw while pirhouetting over the body. It was finished with a release of her mangled lapis hair and sideways stab into the top of the Spearman's head, through his leather helmet.

Elfie opened her hollow eyes before ripping her weapon out of her enemy's skull. The Sky Baron locked his vacuum pack shut with the Air Source inside. A constant thrumming shook his spine and a consistent, uncontrolled, unwinding but never weakening orb of Air collected and shot out of his gun despite the safety being on and his finger off the trigger. It was a powerful tool, but was not stress-rated for this kind of power. There'd be plenty of repairs to be made before he hung it back up in the Relics Room. Then again, this was their first mission, holding all this against them was unfair. Rather, this went swimmingly compared to how he worriedly took a place on the hot air balloon for the dreadful, yet important, assignment. He'd be out of commission for a few days while he put this together and ensured his section of the Academy was in working order, but he wasn't going to call it a triumphant return quite yet. Besides, Skylands needed him now more than ever. His markings wrote the call for help in his Soul.

"There she is!" He beamed as he slung the hurricane over his shoulder.

Her ears perked up and her posture straightened like she'd been called to attention, then abashedly relaxed while awkwardly scratching the back of her head, avoiding eye contact. The dragon scale scarf covered her cheeks, but not the embarrassed heat burning up into her white eyes. Even still, the model student, a Skylander with a future as bright as the glowing jade vines, leaves, and flowers across her skin. And somehow in the same class and team as the Elemental Paragon who had it all dropped right in his lap.

Yet by some madness, he had become a Skylander, so let his faith be restored that there was a way to whip Spyro into shape.

-<🌀>-

The Shield of Terra could feel heads, spears, flames, and parts of bodies slamming into his and Hex's stone and bone barrier in equal parts trying to break through and completely out of control. Despite how firmly he and the Aspirants held their ground, the stone around his legs shivered in the storm like the fires before them were melting away their Resolve. The dust and dirt flowing between the crags and his sets of armor slowed and ground against the wearers' limbs like slowly flowing magma spouting pitifully out of a dying volcano. A Drow, or what George could only assume was a Dark Elf, flew over the top in a ball of fire, all their clothes and skin burnt to a crisp and momentarily being cooked alive before they landed bare skull-first against one of the rocks obscuring the desperately feeling Mabu and shaking evacuation vessels.

A Goliath, with all the brutish strength of a man who wrestled bears in the mountains, bashed through his and the Undead Witch's blockade, but not for long. Even if Food Fight and Wind-Up didn't just at the opening to shoot and punch it right in the face, one of the titanic man's arms was reduced to a smoldering stump. His back was revealed to be in the same condition as he anticlimactically slumped over. Some smoking Chompies and a wide-eyed Drow tried to throw themselves over the edge, not at the Initiates or escapees. One of the artichoke's shots blasted the Chompies into a couple puddles of smoldering goo and Roller Brawl, out of nowhere and completely unnecessarily, soared into the gap between a broken femur and stone spire to free the Dark Elf's head from the prison of his neck. It celebrated with a flying line of red across their armored chests and into the running rainwater.

And then the head landed in George's arms.

He screamed louder than he thought Human lungs could allow and blindly tried to toss it away, fumbling so it instead pathetically slipped out of his arms, which should've been a relief, and onto Food Fight. The gunpowder-animated plant made a higher-pitched version of George's shriek and the leaves atop his head/body amalgamation flung the charred and bisected Drow backwards to Wind-Up. One of his powerful clamps swiftly swiped the head (along with some spewing gears and springs like nervous vomit) across the breaking island and into the sky void below. Hex didn't even flinch once out of the three times it flew right in front of her face, unless you counted narrowing her dead white eyes.

Everyone saw that. The boys barely paused until the vampire skated around the shrinking Mabu crowd, got up to speed disturbingly quickly, and shot back into the adjacent battlefield as if she went up a ramp. Spied orbs, Skull, balls of fire and lava, explosive tomatoes, and chunks of rock created from nothing shot through the opening. Not one of them had a target, or George didn't and couldn't imagine how the rest of the back line were hitting anything more specific than a vaguely green or brown blur of motion.

A roar like a raging inferno tearing through a droughted forest shook the bridge until molten clumps of minerals and seared splinters started staggering off the sides like sinking fishing lines and a burst of lava slammed a tiny mass of Chompies until they were nothing but black spots shimmering like the desert. Eruptor trodded up to the hole in their wall, his broad body covering the breach like George armor curled tighter around the Fire Skylander.

It became hard to tell where the Lava Elemental ended and the Portal Master's suit of armor began; all the material heated up and melded together. The rain did nothing to cool Pompeii-with-legs, just boiled and steamed so violently only Hex could see what she was doing by floating above the burning haze. The spikes on his head fluttered back and forth in the rippling heat effect like candles and his magma blobs were alight like furnaces. He raised and slammed them onto the cobble, quaking the ground and knocking over the Chompies, but the larger Drow and floating Spell Punks were far more stable.

He appeared to double in size as he stomped towards the thinning crowd, though didn't actually stand much taller or broader. His body swelled and heated up as Roller skated right past him with the fresh, runny blood of Chompies and Witches splattering off her wrist blades. A stream, a moat, of bubbling lava spewed over one side of the breaking bridge and covered it in a line of molten rock. Two Drow were caught in the middle, their screams echoed high over the evacuation ships and their armor, burning and melded with melting belt buckles and weapons, slid off their bodies with their skin.

Eruptor threw a fist forward, launching a ball of fire at a distant Spell Punk. The target dodged but stopped its assault long enough for George to line up a shot as the Fire Skylander nudged away an attempted spear stab with the same blob, then rotated his whole body to jam the other into the Elf's side. He launched the Drow off the ledge and swung back the fist to block another spear with his bare arm. The attemptee and two more Drow behind him were sent over the ledge as well, just a single jab to the center of the chest that left a glowing spot of liquid rock pasted across the leather chest. Smoke trailed down the side like the tails at the glowing ends of the fireballs he launched at a group of Chompies and a hastily-organized attempt at a spear wall.

His chest bubbled up again. The bursting masses of toxic, volcanic, molten glass-filled eruption made the bridge vibrate. The vampire rushed back down the bridge, slashing and stabbing between Drow and Chompies after cutting through many of the Air mages and Witches George and Food Fight didn't shoot down, all under the cover of another rain of skulls and flurry of spiky Dark orbs. Once she was back behind friendly lines, Eruptor spewed forth a sunshine yellow-hot ball that rolled across the empty side of the bridge. It left a line of lava in its wake, rebounded against and rolled along the cobblestone railing, slowly lost mass of clumps of heated rock and lava, crushed attackers, and exploded against a far wall and splashed on the ranged raiders. The gap between the bubbling lava lines was too narrow for anyone to walk through, not without quickly being shot right in the gut or decapitated.

They seemed to wisen up as the final evacuation ship arrived. Drow refused to press against the lone Skylander and small group of Academy-dwellers. Just like bullies who never grew up. George spat and, not for the first time, shuddered and wiped his hands on his pants despite the stones that contacted the severed head being long discarded and replaced. Think they're invincible with their little posse, then turn tail when the numbers or size aren't there. Now the Drow were lacking both, aside from the presence of Skylanders he wasn't well aware of, and they clearly had no bond or reservations in the walking beartraps' and mages' favors. Their allegiances lay solely with their brethren, the Shield of Terra had to doubt they held much more favor for Kaos.

Eruptor smashed his magma blobs into their side of the bridge, repeatedly melting and crushing it into thick mineral glue until the wooden supports were but charcoal corpses and the bridge, weighed down by the remains of battle and gradually cooling lava, crumbled away from the Stormy Stronghold. The rest of the Mabu gratefully rushed onto the final evac boat as the captain struggled to keep it steady against the violent winds and blinding cracks of lightning.

The Elemental patted out the flames atop his head and turned to them with heavy footsteps that quickly dried the mud and burned the grass beneath him. "Sorry for the delay, had to make sure nobody else was off the islands."

"Don't worry about it." George sighed and plopped down on the grass. The rocks and sand loosely coating his body were oddly cushioning. "We'll just say you came in to take the credit." He forced a smug smirk.

Chapter Text

Jet Vac and Stealth Elf quickly but cautiously rushed down the ramp and veered into the channel Spyro and the Lesser Dragonslayer Armor flew down. She was effortlessly outrunning him now that he'd abated the storm, even along the soaked rock road and the abundant running water streaming through the gaps while he hovered. He had no choice, there wasn't another way to vent the Eternal Air Source's power while no Drow were chasing them. Shooting at nothing would only break his gun right when he needed it most and give away their position; a shot from the hurricane pack in the talons of a mighty Sky Baron and Air Skylander powered by the absolute height of their mutual Element would not go unnoticed. Honestly, the twister coming out of his vacuum was already pushing it, he'd have to fly back to Skylander Castle adjacent to Flynn's balloon.

The Dark was suffocating in here, something had definitely happened without their knowledge. The way the shadows started crawling up the arched walls and the shattered rainings before them made it seem the power unleashed in their absence should've been joined by the Elemental Paragon's roars of pain or the quakes of a vicious battle, which there were plenty of signs of within the ruins, but outside? They hadn't noticed anything more than some of the stones beneath their feet growing slightly warm. Had the Animated Armor unleashed its Petrified Darkness on the dragon? It seemed like something Kaos would've tried, he did so on all the Skylanders and Mabu during Graduation, yet he put a lot more emphasis on the Light Element in his little experiment.

Stealth was cut off (and almost hit by) a blur of violet and sparking steel smashing against the remaining rails, launching the beams over her head as she instantly ducked, and bashing into the walls. The knight tried to gash open Spyro's side with its gleaming spear, but the dragon wrapped his claws around it while stabbing it in the side of the helmet with the pearly spike of his wing coiled in pink and purple streaks of Magic. He flapped his free wing with the curved dagger and launched both of them back to the ground, spotting Jet Vac and Stealth Elf on his way to the ground.

When did they get here? Smoke choked through his fangs, a mix of grays, not the pure white he took way too long to get clean and right. His fire swelled and embers unsteadily and unevenly sputtered along his tongue. Ripples of heat wafted off his glowing pink claws and jolts of orange intertwined with the wavering lavender plasma. Keep it together, BURN. Elfie joined him on the way down, teleporting down to a precise, swiftly calculated point where she could fly full force into the knight's side without the smallest chance of missing her mark.

The gifted blades stabbed into the knight's heels while she spun, twisting its legs together and dragging both the dragon and warrior into a twirl. Spyro adjusted his wings like they'd done the maneuver a thousand times, hastening the spinning all the way down to the cobble. JV was peeking over the edge and struggling to keep his jetpack stable when they suddenly separated from the armor, slamming and rolling it across the floor. Elfie tucked and rolled before throwing herself to her feet, nothing new, she was more than agile enough to recover and reevaluate the situation over the course of a second.

But Spyro didn't slow his descent. He allowed himself to crash and roll after the knight just once. He rotated and pushed himself in pursuit with the burning pink and orange tips of hsi wings and hind legs. His talons buried into the Dark Lord's minion's chest and fire swelled in his chest. Elfie and Jet Vac were watching, their sharp eyes were staring right through his back, he had to get this right now more than ever. His chest glowed and maw overfilled with fire like an overloaded furnace about to set its blacksmith ablaze.

Then he choked.

A dragon. A Skylander who'd been using fire since he was a hatchling couldn't get his fire breath to cooperate. He hadn't even snored fireballs since he was five and now there was a tight orb of heat and smoke clogging his throat. Spyro quickly fought to continue his momentum like nothing was amiss, especially in front of the bane of his existence and teammate. He twisted his body to the right and dragged both claws diagonally across the knight's chest, keeping his claws just offset enough so the right set didn't ineffectively slide into the grooves his left made. Several extremely close together lines in the metal leaked gray and purple clouds like steam, groaning like a dozen or two spirits had been jammed inside under immense pressure.

His wing stabbed the same side of its helmet while he turned his wrists to finish a deep X in the middle through the torso, identical marks down to the individual centimeter. He could've gone for the millimeter. The metal strands barely keeping shape were easily cut away when he swiped his claws upwards and thrusted his wings. Wind pressure splattered dust and rainwater while slivers of metal shot off the chest plate, piercing the leather straps inside and making the shoulder pads start slipping down the knight's upper arms. The Forest Elf and Sky Baron watched him rush to the ceiling, crushing it against the bottom of the Source's chamber, latching his maw around its throat, and flapping his wings to drag its back across the walls while his fore and hind legs swiped through its center. His burning pearl claws heated and deformed the steel at the same time as they tore it to shreds like paper.

With a rough, dry, heave, he forced the fire in his mouth to flare up and his claws dropped the knight for a moment. They dug into the visor, bending the armor and bottom of the helm. The golden Light crown, or what was left of it, bent and shimmered with protective magic that slowly cracked and hissed like gas escaping a pressurized tube or canister. He had to stop in the center of the scorched and cracked room to focus on breaking off the visor and blasting a jet of flames straight down its neck.

A ghastly roar like a crowd of zombies droning lightly shivered the armor before he swung it around his long body with all his might and threw it to the ground. He cut off his flame as it plummeted, took a breath, and timed a fireball to explode its chest at the exact same time it hit the ground. The explosion cracked the stone, sent its body parts flying like a bunch of bottle rockets with flames and Undead energies, and boiled the water. The edges of the scattered metal were glowing orange and sizzled as the water steamed.

Elfie stood with her arms crossed between some of the pieces, a limb and one of the Light wings. "How many times do I have to save you today?" She snarked.

"Oh, you do not wanna keep score." Spyro mocked rolling up sleeves and waved his fists like a fighter game's idle animation.

Her chuckle and hidden smile looked like it hurt for a second, but she still teleported around him until Jet Vac flew down to them. "Now's not the time to chase each other around." He scolded.

"Right! Sorry." She held her arms behind her back and lightly kicked a pebble. More like a shard of the floor pulled up by the fight.

Spyro was about to put together some witty remark when he eyed the Eternal Air Source, Jet Vac could see it in his eyes and watched the words die in his chest. His cold, oddly empty amber eyes locked onto the powerful tornado pressing violently against the confines of the vacuum gun. Though it was turned off, it shook and sparks of electricity crackled along the length of the wind funnel. Its reinforced glass was quaking, as risk of coming loose from its anchors and the pipe to the gun was constantly pulsing. It looked inflated and stretched, the bird's grasp on the gun was steady but his hand wasn't, being shaken by the pressure and swirling white storm orb balled at the opening. He was sure to keep the weapon pointed far away from everyone, even if the shift in weight made his already weakened balance even more awkward.

Why was it... whispering to him? ...Why was he unworthy? What did it think he was chained down by?

The lines around Jet Vac's body, curling around the Air Source like a spring, and folding and spiraling behind his back like wings as gusts of light wind filled with the occasional dim spark of static flared like he was taking flight as he spun and pointed them back to the archway entrance with a deadpan face.

Why was it calling him?

-<🌀>-

Food Fight was doing his best to juggle the needs of all the worst-off Mabu before tending to the relatively minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises his team and the Portal Master had amassed throughout the half-baked plan. That was putting it generously, but hindsight was 20-20. For now, the artichoke made it clear he was a far better combat healer than a casual cleric. His healing was tied to his attacks, however that worked, he was struggling to keep pace with all the injuries now that he was forced to slow down.

George tried his best to help, he'd picked up some tricks from his old man and old man's old man, but was quickly reprioritized to protecting the ship from the storm. It might've softened, but it was still far too powerful for anything less than the emergency evac ships and whatever mad engines were running through the Skylanders' hot air balloon and Superchargers. His shield absorbed lightning strikes and protected the passengers from debris as the exhausted and bloodied captain braved through the clouds not for the first time. At least he got a break at the very end. Though George kept the many gray and brown rocks clinging to his body, just in case.

Hex and Roller Brawl kept to the sides and back of the ship, away from the frightened eyes of the sopping wet mole people. He could guess they wouldn't be so thrilled to see such massive, dead white eyes staring into their Souls, but Roller seemed pretty normal to him. Maybe she was just keeping the Witch company or there was some unspoken dread of the Undead. Vampires were certainly unfavorable in his world, until those awful movies. Wind-Up used his spinning parts to rapidly reinforce the ship with whatever pointy screws and bolts he could scrape together from the damaged hull and his body. He looked a lot more content with his work than the others.

Eruptor similarly stayed back, though he looked like he was just trying to get away from all the survivors' noise. Not that it worked. It took all of a minute after the evacuation ship departed for the last time for the children to single out the Fire Skylander. It didn't take long for the Lava Elemental to be resigned to his giggly fate. His tattoos, deep red Fire Emblems and exploding volcanoes connected by strings decorated by fiery silhouettes through the red rocks making up his outer shell, glowed through the storm. If they were flocking to him, anyway, then he might as well ensure they could see where the biggest protector was at all times.

Three of them clung to his left arm, being pulled up and down like he was lifting weights while chatting on a purple and gold, phone-like magic item melded into his other Magma Blob. On the bright side, they were laughing and smiling again as he updated his team. They were already en route to the Skylander Castle and told them the Aspirants were fine. Not that the same could be said for him as one of the Mabu kids managed to climb and tug on the spikes on his head (or lack of one, he was too drained to care about the intricacies right now).

George dropped the shield as they came out of the slowly expanding tornado. Best not to have a giant, glowing orange shield highlighting an unarmed vessel full of children and refugees. The real warships were plenty occupied by each other and racing away from the Superchargers to little success. Their numbers had thinned dramatically in the short time they were pulling furries from the wreckage of brilliant stone towers and keeping them from falling to their deaths as tough archway bridges snapped like twigs. The Air pilot was whistling between and behind Skylands before whipping around the corner to shoot flying blades through the armor of blimps and diving clean through the balloons; sparks ignited the other side as the ace gutted ships. The insectoid one was slower, for a dragonfly-themed ship buzzing around at the speed of sound, and more methodically shooting bug missiles into the vital parts of their targets.

Kaos's forces were on the run, without their prize, lacking a lot of their allies, and battered by an actual teenager. But many of those weren't so lucky as to go home or be locked up at all. The way the Undead duo tore through them... those poor elves... 'just following orders' or not, he didn't wish that on anyone. Sawblades were carpentry tools, not dragged through the limbs and necks and chests of soldiers. And that wasn't including the prejudice with which the vampire wielded her wrist blades; and that wasn't including the Undead Elf! Where was Hex hiding all that during her Final Trials? Why was it all reserved for the Drow? What the fuck did they do? Owe them money?

What justified that!?

From that angle, sure, they should stay in the back of the ship, but taking measures after the fact didn't make it okay. George pulled himself towards the edge of the ship, one of the sides Roller was keeping clear of as she absentmindedly skated beside the rails do to the volume of shellshocked people lingering there, under the instruction of the captain to keep the fly boat balanced as they passed through the spinning storm. One of the moles didn't appear to notice him, even when he thudded against the guardrails and slid to the floorboards. The clattering of the stones peeling away from his hands so he could run them through his hair and exhale a deep sigh was what got that one to snap to attention. Another one noticed, but said and did nothing besides offer a short glance.

"Thank you, Mister...?" The shaken one greeted.

"George." He answered.

The woman on his other side joined. "Thank you, George."

His legs slid out flat across the floor. "Don't mention it."

"Did you see an old man with a straw hat? He never lets it fly away, not even in Air areas, he fixes the chin strap every time he puts it on!" The shivering mole suddenly asked. "I-I'm sorry-"

"Nono, it's okay." The Portal Master lightly patted his shoulder. His fur was chilly and stuck uncomfortably to the mole's skin. "No, we didn't. He must've gotten on another ship." He lamented.

The Mabu swallowed. "H-He... He said he wasn't gonna let the Drow push him out." His bottom lip trembled and eyes visibly stung.

"Oh..." George swallowed heavily and audibly. The other woman looked away, tightening her grip on her soaked dress and a smaller child's hand. "Do you wanna talk bout him?" He offered.

The Mabu looked up with bloodshot eyes, meeting the glowing orange beams coming from George's eyes. He allowed the rocks and shimmering amber rays covering his body to slide away from his face. Rain started pelting his cheeks and weighed down his short blonde hair. With his eyes back to his paws and the floorboards, the Mabu tried to string together something akin to a story about his Father, but pretty quickly crumbled into sobs in his hands and rocking back and forth. George patted his back as the tears flowed. They sat together in the rain while Hex and Roller Brawl kept their distance from all the grief, Food Fight and Wind-Up were too busy trying to keep everyone and the ship together long enough to get to safety, and Eruptor finished telling his team he'd meet them at the Castle.

How do first responders, soldiers, and Skylanders do this every day?

-<🌀>-

Lightning magic continued to get the better of her. She understood how it worked, she understood the calculation for an arc flash was Current^2 * Time, she understood Amps vs Volts and Resistance, she understood the natural resistance of the Human body and why the arms and legs were much better for lightning conduction while the torso absorbed it for some of the few defensive spells Air had to offer. Putting it in practice, though, was a different story. Eugenie hadn't the slightest clue how Cynder was so accurate and precise. The black dragon could hit the exact same black smudge on a dark gray rock from over two hundred feet away! She might as well flick coins through the air if they got melted down for magic items, at least they could make a game out of it instead of leaving them to Smoltergeist and wandering off.

Unless her target was metal, water, or any strange magic material with similar conductivity, she couldn't strike the same place twice. As a result, she'd holed herself up in her room for some review. Cynder's books had to have some advice, be it from the researchers or the little corrections and clarifications the she neatly scribbled in the margins. She had her start point, the rift in her Soul where reality was flayed and power from all dimensions flowed through; she had her jump point, the 100 Ohm resistance in her arm, where her golden and copper arms would create a path of lesser resistance; she had her end point, her ground, where the arc was supposed to fly and crash, yet never made contact.

Initially, Jenny chalked it up to her having never shot anything or so much as touched a video game outside her phone, but the way the bolts randomly veered off-course had gotten as frustrating as it was absurd. So bed and books was how her day was gonna end. There was nothing better! A small whirlwind wrapped around the binding and fluttered between the pages above her face so they didn't flick closed unless she touched them, pinned to the front and backing by gentle pressure. Her steely eyes skimmed every chapter quickly, thoroughly, and repeatedly as he idly danced shocks of plasma between her fingers like she was passing a finger trap between them.

Some purple and black shadows filtered beneath her door and swelled into a thin, slender figure. "Heeeeyyyy~" Cynder greeted while slithering up the foot of her bed.

Eugenie almost hit her head on her floating book to sit up and meet Cynder. "Hey!" She put on a smile and lightly tapped the book to the side. "Where've you been?" She asked while adjusting her maroon cloak. The ornament in the center leered at Cynder with its black diamond and opal eyes.

"Causing problems." Cynder shrugged nonchalantly. "Dad put me on some chores. Nothing much, just hunting some magic crap." She started slithering off the bed, lightning strike eyes glossing over the pile of books and bag of gold the Portal Master had slowly but surely amassed throughout the month.

"Oh, speaking of Ignitus!" Eugenie cut in before Cynder could ask about her day. "I finally got to meet your Dad today!"

The black dragoness remained facing away from Eugenie while flicking open an Air rituals textbook. "Did you now?" She slowly asked while (presumably) searching for a specific page.

"Yeah, he's a lot bigger than I was expecting." Jenny shrugged and popped her knuckles. "You, uh, get a lot from him." She awkwardly chuckled and plucked her book out of the air.

"Everything." Cynder hummed while taking a few pictures of the book. Her phone vanished in a gray and pink cloud of toxic smog and bright sparkles that didn't suit her at all, then she quickly spun around with her bored, disinterested face. "He didn't start telling you war stories, did he?"

Eugenie giggled and flipped the page. "Not this time, he seemed busy."

"Always, it's the only way I can get rid of him." She waved a claw and rolled her eyes. "Dad will turn a ten-minute story into a thousand-page per book trilogy if you let him get going." Cynder lied through her fangs.

She laughed again. "Come on, he didn't sound that bad!"

"That's how he gets ya, makes you think you wanna hear about his failed lovelife, first." Cynder leaned in, wrapped an arm around the Human, and glared daggers at the Malefor ornament just out of the gems' sight.

Eugenie bit back one more laugh before turning another page. This section was mostly about the uses of copper in electromancy, but she was running out of better ideas. "You can't just drop stuff like that and keep moving on!"

"Watch me." Cyn smirked and turned up her snout. "What'cha studyin'?" She curled her neck over the book.

"Just trying to make lightning more accurate." She flicked the page again.

"Ah, that just takes practice. You can't just point a direction, shoot, and expect to land every shot; same with guns and bows. I can put together some bottle towers somewhere." The dragon offered and curled up against Jenny's side. "'Til then, I found a little somethin' in a Sky Baron ruin I think you're gonna love."

-<🌀>-

Why won't it stop whispering?

It spoke no words, crafted no sentences in his addled mind; it couldn't, it was the Eternal Air Source, but it could talk. That damned thing bursting out of Jet Vac's little backpack couldn't convey meaning beyond the most comprehensible portion of Freedom available to the Elemental Paragon. It didn't want him, Air didn't want him, it dared deem him unworthy, but of what? What was it trying to convey, as if a mindless embodiment of an Element could tell anyone anything? Why could he understand it, but not hear any words or telepathic message? Why was it still bothering him?

He needed to see it one more time. He didn't know why, he didn't know when he'd get around to it, he didn't know when his next big opening would be, all he knew was that the Air Source was drawing him in by the neck with a steel cable. Spyro's claws shook with anticipation and his breath constantly caught in his throat at the slightest change in the gentle wind's direction as he circled the Castle. On amber wings did he avoid JV, pretend all was well, and try to clear his head. It didn't work, nothing worked, everything rushing beneath his wings and across his cold scales brought him closer to Master Eon's Tower.

It was in there, it had to be in there, he knew it! His jaw clenched and his fangs clattered like it was freezing, he couldn't hold still as he glided about the Portal Master's home, about the entrance to the Relics Room. It was in there, the Eternal Air Source, hidden away until Master Eon could construct something greater than the untamed, unfocused sum of its aeromancy. It was in there, beckoning him, taunting him. It was in there, whispering too loudly, always chattering in the back of his conscious until he did something.

But what was it waiting for? Did he need to bring it something? It was a singularity of magic, it couldn't do anything knowledgeable or intended, for it possessed neither. Even its will was just the saturation of wishes poured upon it by the Sky Barons who kept it hidden from the forces of the Darkness. What kind of twisted spell or blessed ritual was he meant to perform to gain its favor? Why should he want the favor of something that couldn't give it? As if that was a new question. He wouldn't be going in blind. A fairly basic magic canister could gather plenty of its power, plenty for him to study and put together in his own way without even slightly diminishing its strength for Eon's far more complex, far more important spellwork. In fact, it'd behoove him not to make multiple trips if the opportunity presented itself. The real question was when he'd get him opening.

Eon should be busy right now, but he could see the Portal Master lingering at his desk.

But Eon was always too busy for Spyro! If he asked for something, anything, then he'd have to leave him! Leave him be, leave him unattended, leave him with the entrance to the Relics Room. All he needed was a few beard hairs to get inside, maybe not even that much. Snatching his staff might do, he didn't carry it everywhere, just for extra complex and powerful magic. Spyro just had to need something, then his chance would open up by itself. One of his wings folded to his side as he entered a spin and rocketed down through the clouds, trailing white ines behind him as he swiftly flicked both wings wide open and flat to the Academy grounds.

The force of the drag made parachutes out of the membrane stretching between his bruised bones and scratched scales. Pages of scrolls and loose tomes fluttered in his wake, masking his image as he steeled his expression and mannerisms befitting of a Skylander. Some letters between Eon and Sensei King Pen fluttered to Spyro's paws as he proudly lifted his head high. The breeze trailed softly against his stiff and flaring frill and cooled along his painted scales.

He mocked admiring his reflection in a crystal before turning to the Portal Master, it was always a little easier to deal with less-clear, smaller reflections when he already knew his makeup was done right. "Hey, Eon, can I talk to you for a second? It's about the Dragonslayer thing."

Eon was already getting up from his seat right before Spyro flew in and scattered the papers, the dragon spotted him cracking his back and stretching as several small portals and flashes of cyan and white light warped the documents and magic scrolls back to their places. "I'm afraid not now, my boy." He answered and soothed the back of his neck. Must've been leaning over the table for too long. "I have some questions for Jet Vac about the Eternal Air Source, King Pen and Ambush asked to be kept up to speed, Aurora has another list of complaints and suggestions, we need to figure out what to do with the Golden Propeller, I'm trying to learn more about the Treasure House of Knowledge, and-" He glanced down to the dragon, still pretending to gaze into the crystal. Really, he was looking at Eon through it, he couldn't stare at himself for that long. Though he thought the angle was obvious, it was to a Skylander.

"You don't care- Anyway, I have too much on my plate to focus on any one thing right now, but I promise I will get back to you soon." Eon popped his knuckles and created a bright portal beside them. "Sproket and Double Trouble are inspecting the remains as we speak, I'll have them send you what they learn." He offered.

Spyro looked away from the crystal and allowed it to drop through another small rift. "It's not that important." That worked!?

"Still, I'd rather leave you with something rather than nothing." He smoothed out his robes and nodded to the dragon before bidding him goodbye.

The portal shut with a sparkly blip, leaving Spyro all alone again. He listened closely to the doors, windows, and walls before he barely allowed his shoulders and wings to sag. No more than half an inch off-average, not enough for Hugo to notice if he walked in on the dragon. Plus, what he was about to do was going to draw more attention than his disposition. He didn't have a decent magic bottle on him, just a beaker with a cork and gold band around it, but Eon wouldn't be back for a while and Hugo's footsteps were distinct. He just needed a sample of its power, as much as he could get his claws on, it didn't matter how much that entailed so long as he figured out what about it was drawing him in.

And any other way he could put it to use. Wings and twitch muscles could always use some support.

Chapter Text

The Air training arena was oddly quiet, even for this time of day. The small scattering of islands loosely connected by rope bridges and chains swirled with some basic obstacles and foam boulders. While a far cry from the brutal realism of the Training Isles' weapons and cannonballs, the inspiration was obvious. The Magic and Water Sections looked similar, one dense with Power only the advanced learners could manipulate and deflect in a way that let them traverse the flow of unabated Magic somewhat safely. Water was a lot more stable at the cost of less freedom of movement, compared to the Magic and Air, which more than a little screw over the 'Water' Initiates and Skylanders who specialized in ice or storms.

Birds flapped their wings mockingly of the Sky Baron as he tinkered with the hurricane pack. The glass had been pushed far beyond its rated stress, as was the framing, both of them needed to be reforged and replaced while he tightened some screws and bolts around the hinge and sealant. He'd have liked to repair and maintain the thing all by himself, as he did before becoming a professor, but there was only so much he could when such strong parts were completely broken. He wasn't the only one who needed blast-resistant glass and enchanted Sky Steel, and having someone recycle the materials for him wasn't such a big deal.

But he could put the gun back together, he'd done so countless times. Despite the years since he'd last operated upon the device, every piece slid together and clicked apart just like it did when he turned it in for its final inspection. Just like speaking to an old friend. Jet Vac had certainly bugged Umbra-Sol plenty of times. The old, black and white tree may have been of the Dark Element, but age had taught him a lot. The bird never left him alone when there were bigger compressed Air shots to be made, though the majority of what he actually got out of the great oak was a healing function. Not that it wasn't appreciated, in his absence.

Where did you go?

JV wiped some sweat from his brow. The wind chill was cool and the close peaks of Cat's Eye Mountain and its surrounding golden city were cold, but his feathers were thick and his work had been constant. Just because someone was partially replacing him in the classroom didn't mean there wasn't a lot to handle while the Skylanders juggled Kaos and the Core of Light. His new team had a spark of greatness within them that he needed his equipment in tip-top shape for their next mission.

A troll oil spill had horrifically tainted a distant island, one rife with Gillmen in desperate need of liberators. Master Eon had his concerns about the small series of waterlogged islands for a decent while, now, and his worst fears had been confirmed when Gill Grunt departed to visit his kin. The soldier did his best to fight off the trolls' onslaught, but even a Skylander could only do so much against such numbers. He and Thrillipede just finished writing their official reports on the Stormy Stronghold mission, and they were already being dispatched somewhere else, lest Kaos was able to make up for the warriors and ships lost pursuing the Eternal Air Source with oil.

A green blur zipped between training dummies, spinning obstacles, and bounce pads like a giant pinball machine before Stealth Elf silently perched on the edge of a small fence by the starting area, across from Jet Vac's bench. She acted like a Skylander clad in her full, scaly armor attire, but she was only wearing that tank top and pair of sweats George got for her when she refused to leave Spyro's side. Her daggers were stuffed in the waistband, she hadn't needed them to smash through the course like it was a children's game.

Her bright white eyes were narrow, her braid was sloppy, and her whole body was tense. She didn't even have shoes, her hands and feet were scarred and bruised like she'd thrown on whatever she had lying around. One leg at a time lowered to the fine sand before she released her vice grip on the fence. Her fingernails had bits of sawdust underneath and grooves were carved in the grain. The Life Skylander silently walked to the other end of the bench, tensely sat down, and kept her bright white eyes pinned to either the sandy floor or the shattered Magic segment.

She stayed silent a few minutes. "Have you already talked to Eon?"

"I've turned in a report and came right here. Always loved the view." The Sky Baron twisted a screw with his talon until the gun's trigger was properly reattached.

"What did it say?" Her voice lowered. Her knuckles paled as they tightened together, her pupilless eyes stared through her fingers.

"Just that you do better in dry environments." He nodded and fastened the gun's pipe to its back. "For what it's worth, he chose our next mission before I submitted it."

Stealth nodded and twiddled her thumbs. There were thin, heavy lines under her eyes, but they cut off unnaturally right above her cheek. Definitely makeup. "Thank you."

"Everyone has a soft spot." He shrugged. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, just something you need to work through. Anything else you need?" JV offered a small smile.

The Forest Elf didn't meet him immediately. Her head nodded his way and back a couple of times before she spoke again. "About Spyro."

He sighed before she finished. "Look, I know you fight a lot, but Spyro knows what he's doing." She defended.

"Spyro broke off from the mission every chance he got." Jet Vac deadpanned.

"And it worked." Elf pressed. "Eruptor and I didn't think he did much, either, but-... Just trust me, you weren't there when he fought Kaos."

"Didn't he throw lightning bolts at you?" Jet Vac pointed out. Knowing what he did now, she should have some bias in the Elemental Paragon's favor.

"He fought a Dark Portal Master." She leered.

"Also fair." He muttered and adjusted some of his gun's wiring. "But working well alone won't get him as far as being part of a team. He needs to learn he can't take everyone on by himself and I'd rather bash it through his skull here than in the middle of a fight with some Tech or Water creature he can't even touch."

"Eruptor's our Tank and I'm our damage, Spyro's our middle man and spellcaster, we can do this." Stealth Elf insisted.

Jet Vac set the inactive gun down and turned to face the ninja properly. "But he will be forced to work with people he may not mix as well with, not just me. You and Eruptor can't always be there for him, just like Eon and I can't."

"Disagreeing with you doesn't mean he can't work with you." She crossed her arms.

"Name one time during that entire mission we worked together." Jet Vac blandly asked.

"You never got the chance!" Stealth protested. He raised a brow. "...Fine... But still, he's smarter than he looks."

"I'll have to see that for myself before I can consider him competent. Wanting to deviate from the plan for good reasons is one thing, but angry defiance doesn't make a Skylander. He'll need to make his own plans more often than not." Jet Vac tried to assure her without talking down about her friend. Their grievances aside, they were both his students. "Spyro has a long way to go before he's anywhere near as good a Skylander Master Eon and the Sensei know he can be."

With a sigh, she looked back down to her hands, ears drooping. Her eyes started to follow suit when the professor spoke again. "Something else on your-"

"Do my eyes look dark to you?" She turned to him and asked before his attempt to lure her into getting some rest was halfway finished.

"...They're... bright white, Skylander." He blinked. This had to be a trick question.

"I mean the outsides." Oh.

He squinted. "I suppose they do, but many pupilless eyes are like that. Dark, Forest, Frost, I'm not sure what you're getting at." Jet Vac eventually admitted.

"But especially dark. Drow dark." She specified.

"What difference does it make?" His feathers ruffled.

She looked back to the ground. "I was fighting a Spearman before you and Spyro showed up. He said I had their eyes and..."

"Not sure what to do with that?" He finished for her and reconsidered. Yes, her sclera were fairly dark compared to Sprocket or Hex's eyes. From a distance, the latter two could easily be mistaken for having pearls in their skulls, or even up close if you weren't paying attention or had bad vision; Stealth Elf's blinding irises had a much more violent contrast to the rest of her eyes. Still, he didn't see (Dammit, now I'm becoming Umbra.) the big deal. But if it was important to a Skylander in need, it was important to him.

"Do you know how little training our enemies have compared to us? And I mean have you really thought about what it takes to be a Skylander." He proposed. Stealth tapped her knees in thought before shrugging. "Even at your worst, they couldn't break you before Spyro turned the whole wall into a crater. Many of them have to get in our heads to stand a chance.

If you want to know what I think, you were just unlucky enough to meet a Drow smart enough to pull it off." He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "I understand this can sound scary right now, but I'm sure it'll all be alright after you get some rest. Maybe you'll even look back on this and laugh, I have plenty of moments like that." JV managed to wind the conversation around to the visibly drained ninja getting some well-earned sleep.

"You have embarassing stories?" She shot up and her ears flattened against the sides of her head like she was shooting through the Skylands. So much for getting her to wind down.

Jet Vac laughed his heart out. "Oh, I made Spyro look like a puppy eating from the palm of your hand when I was his age! Just ask Stump Smash and Drill Sergeant!" He froze and his eyes widened. "DON'T ASK STUMP SMASH OR DRILL SERGEANT!"

She scooted away, pinning herself against the bench's arm, but didn't teleport somewhere else. The Elf visibly bit her tongue and tried to fight back a smile. At least she was getting comfortable.

Oh dear. Jet Vac mumbled under his pointed beak as a rift of gleaming white and cyan Light swirled beside them. It coiled and pulsed into an oval of color from which Master Eon appeared. His staff was left in his study, as he usually did when he was simply wandering the Academy. He smiled softly and bowed his head to Stealth Elf, who definitely didn't overreact when she zipped off of the bench, stood stiffly upright, and bowed lowly with her fist pressed into her palm. The Sky Baron settled for calmly setting his gun to the side and standing at attention.

"There will be no need for that, old friend, Skylander." The Portal Master eased both of them. 'Eased' for Stealth Elf, anyway, her spine was as rigid as a Tree of Life contrasted overtop a swaying forest. "I need to talk to you about the incident with young George." Master Eon addressed the Air Skylander. "Quite reminds me of when you were a Shield Maiden." He couldn't help but add with a chuckle.

JV smirked for but a second before Stealth Elf's head whirled around to him. "You were a Sky Baron Shield Maiden!?" She asked incredulously as her messy braid spun over her shoulder and whipped her in the chest.

He blinked blankly, then pinched his beak. Almost a whole day had been wasted on the Cadet class stalling a major quiz with questions about him, just to find out he'd moved the date because he needed to help with a bad malfunction at the Training Isles. "Right, you broke your leg on the Training Isles the day before."

"And months before you were allowed to use them." Eon added again.

"I-I-" She tried to justify herself, looking between the old warriors a few times before her dark face turned down with a huff and she blinked away. She'll be just fine They shared one more laugh.

-<🌀>-

A sandy strip of tan, formerly white fabric was wrapped around Roller Brawl's face and a pair of scratched swim goggles were fastened tightly around her bright pink-purple eyes. The edges of her eyes wrinkled with a toothy smile as she dashed and flipped around the Earth training area. The solid stone walls and the weapons hanging from racks carved directly into the artificial cave echoed and changed color with the darker brown clumps of dirt and sand flung from George's palms.

She didn't even have her armor or swablade prosthetics, just her arc-shaped legs and some knee and elbow pads. The Portal Master's body lightly shimmered with an orange film; he'd been having trouble replicating the tough suit of rich brown and glowing orange knight armor he'd put together at the Stormy Stronghold, and there was no need to construct a complete set for some target practice. Which was bs 'practice' anyway.

Roller ran, jumped over, slid beneath, and flipped around every clump of dirt he sent her way. The soil scattered over the walls and against the bone wall Hex set up around herself and her book, never hitting the vampire. Flashes of orange power full of summoned dirt and see-through sand dropped new, fist-sized clumps into his hands for another shot. Just like baseball, he wound up his whole body and threw the clump full-force at his target. Feeling flashy, she leapt over the projectile with a sideways twirl and landed into a barrel roll under the next try.

Two more chunks of dirt, two more throws, two more misses. She swiveled on one foot she couldn't even feel the position of like professional ballet came as naturally as breathing, then sprinted across the whole room with the speed of a bullet. On the bright side, he could see her smile widen behind the dusty rag. Her eyes glistened through the scratchy goggles and the fabric swelled and sucked in with her giggles.

He'd like to have a turn at being the cool one, but all of his shots were miles off like he was totally aiming for the spaces between a bunch of bottles. Oscar hadn't let him live that down for all of fifth grade. Food Fight and Wind-Up just had to play the announcers, too. Everything had some little comment attached to it. George ignored them, kept it in the background as he aimed again and again and again.

"Why are you only casting one at a time?" Aurora asked from the gym entrance.

Barbella and Terrafin were standing behind the wizard's niece with their brass knuckles and weights always at the ready, if limply at their sides or resting on the ground like a cane. The Light Sensei was no exception, her twin, curvy swords were stuffed through her golden thread belt. They didn't even have sheaths fastening them in place as they gently thudded against her thighs with her steps. She and Roller shared a nod as their positions adjusted.

Small orbs of gold Light appeared in the Skylander's hands, then duplicated, three per palm. Every single one of them flashed through Roller's body, be it right before or just after her dodge. Delays just long enough to let Aurora see where her target was going without allowing the Aspirant enough time to adjust. She hit that little sweetspot between the telegraph, reaction time, and dodge every single time like she was bashing through a big bullseye. Even still, the way her arms dragged against the cave's breeze and flaunted in ways that let George see how she guided the dim lights along her chosen path screamed that she had the pure speed to pummel his friend with glowing dots if she wasn't trying to impart a lesson; the difference between not just a Skylander, but a Sensei and their pupil.

Roller Brawl was dizzy and stumbling between blips of Light by the time the Sensei took some pity on her. Her narrow, bright blue, tired eyes met George's in a silent invitation to hit the softened taunter. His fingers curled into a fist and relaxed, running through the motions her fingers hooked and outstretched into by example. Manually, unlike the Sensei, he swiped his nails against the empty space around him like he was cutting with claws. Bright orange rifts with darker, brown, earthy centers popped into existence like he was drawing them into being. Soil and pebbles appeared from nothing and orbited the tears in reality as they dripped with glowing energy and fertile dirt.

Trying to balance them on his fingertips without touching them, yet somehow feeling them beyond his body with loosely connected nerves he didn't have, was a challenge he didn't face since throwing so many rocks at Kaos. The closest he'd come was smashing through that keep, but even then, the majority of the stone was clinging to his body and directly thrown by his own cobbled hands. Now he was attempting to drag them along lines of his own making, strings he couldn't visualise like his little sister and wouldn't come into being until after he began tugging them along at high enough speeds the vampire couldn't dodge.

Aurora and Barbella each directly adjusted his hands on either side when some of the clumps fell to the floor. Not perfect without practice, but he could throw things outside of himself. So weird. Roller Brawl adjusted her stance, stayed low, and put on her snide little act while the Sensei helped George get a handle on the precise and delicate form. With his palms facing upward and several pods of dust floating around them, he leaned forward and swiped one arm towards her. Amber streaks followed his hand as he turned his palm inward and pulled the sand along. Their game resumed in a flurry of black and gray blurs and flying ground. Some clumps accidentally shot before he wanted or weren't supposed to go soaring at all.

They split apart mid-air, slowly starting to stay in three or four pieces the more he repeated the motion, then two or three. He started hitting closer and closer to Roller. She needed to awkwardly bend and uncomfortably twist her spine to avoid two sand clouds, then three. She had to start and stop on a dime, spin and curve at sharp, unforgiving angles. Her tank top, shorts, the bases of her prosthetic legs, and the skin of her forearms gradually caught some smears of dirt as the disintegrating clumps fell apart around her. Unfortunately, they'd stated before the exercise began that broken chunks didn't count, he actually had to hit her to win their little game... whatever this odd game they'd made up on the spot was.

Aurora squinted at the Portal Master and vampire in analytical curiosity of his abilities. Though she wasn't there when the Dark Lord attacked the Arena (being frozen in the middle of lifting some weights and randomly having all the weight return to her when the ice burst into steam was not a nice experience), it was hard to find anyone who hadn't at least distantly keep tabs on the boy's developments; she knew of a few tricks he'd a natural talent for.

She gently and knowingly tapped their feet together, nodded in the Aspirant's direction, and waited for the pieces to click together. He shifted his stance as subtly as he could, disguising the changes as twisting his body to keep track of the zippy Undead before lining up a particular maneuver. Aurora stepped back in preparation for a couple sand shots to miss Roller Brawl by a few feet, like he'd been doing when the Land Shark and Senseis walked in, quietly taking some control over how she dodged. By now, he'd seen enough about how she moved to vaguely know how she'd avoid a more distant attack.

When she moved roughly as predicted, he jammed his toes through the sand floor and the sandstone beneath. Crags puffed up a shallow line of particulates towards one of Roller's prosthetics. She wasn't paying attention to the formerly flat, if a little easy to slide on, ground when there were so many projectiles floating after her, and of course she had no feeling in her metal and plastic legs. She couldn't tell her spring-loaded foot was being swiped right out from under her until it was too late. And even then she didn't fall, her impeccable balance carried along her momentum. But her recovery didn't change the final blob of glowing sand and dirt that hit her in the shoulder.

"YES!" Dust fell from the ceiling and everyone's boots sank various fractions of an inch into the floor. Some of the clay-like weapons tipped off of their stands and rolled over the upward hooks on the ends of their racks. Aurora, Terrafin, and Barbella gave him a small applause of varying levels of enthusiasm. Hex lowered some of her giant bones to make sure the sand fight was done before banishing them. The artichoke and clockwork robot hopped out of their seats, the steps up to the solid ground around the weapons and weights and flimsy mock-armor.

Roller brushed herself off in defeat. "We never talked about using other powers." She half-teased, half-pouted, kinda like Maria. Seriously? In a deathly pale vampire? He really couldn't help seeing her everywhere. The rush of victory, victory at last, turned to dirt real damn quick.

"Never talked about not using them, either." He forced out a bit of joy.

She frowned and glanced aside, but Eon's niece spoke before she could. "There's something we need to talk about." The Sensei looked to his friends and nodded to the door.

"What kind of thing? Why wouldn't they be allowed to hear it?" He asked. Maria was the kind of kid who hated not being in the know, fingers crossed she didn't turn into a gossip.

"If you want, you can tell them in your own time, but in mine, this is for your ears only." She stated firmly like a Secret Service operative. The Aspirants funneled out of the room, flanked by Terrafin and the wall. The Land Shark shut the door behind them and leaned against it with his arms crossed.

Barbella started. "We need you to run through how you got here one more time."

"Again?" He blinked. Aurora nodded once. "I found a portal in an old house's basement, the kind you can't see the other side of, it sucked me in and dropped me right on top of Terrafin." George repeated.

"And you're positive you were alone?" Barbella leaned against her weight.

"Yes?" He tilted his head. "What's going on?"

The Sensei shared a look, then glanced back at Terrafin, and returned to George. "My Uncle's been trying to keep something from everyone." Aurora sneered. "He thinks keeping a second Portal Master under wraps is gonna keep everyone safe."

George stumbled back. "Someone else is stuck here? A-And he's just not saying anything?"

"He doesn't want to put more on the Skylanders' plates in the middle of the Core of Light race, especially when we can't do anything to help yet. He just rounded up the Sensei to make sure we were ready, hasn't learned anything new since." Barbella elaborated. "All we've got is 'The Treasure House Of Knowledge', not even a name or face."

"Master Eon figured he shouldn't get anyone worried when there's nothing we can do." Terrafin added from the distance.

"It might not even be a problem, they could be in good hands-" Barb tried to reassure the Portal Masyer's decision.

"Or bad ones. Either way, he's asking for this to blow up in his face." Aurora countered. "Either way, we wanted to bring this to you. Who you tell is up to you. I don't care if he starts hounding me for it, I'm not changing my mind if I was able to." She finished and turned for the door.

"But we would rather stay out of this, if we can. And let us know if you tell anyone." The weight lifter leaned in and pointed a thumb at the walking shark.

He weighed his options. Food Fight and Wind-Up might be a bit too loud, maybe handing it off to them would spill a bit too much. On Eon's side, there was a lot being juggled by the ever-preoccupied Skylanders. When Mom had a lot to deal with, he'd do the dishes or vacuum for her, but it wasn't like he had to hide it and Dad could shoulder anything. Some of the Skylanders, though, were fairly young for superheroes. Stealth Elf came to mind; he remained unsure how old she actually was, but she was shorter than him. Then again, a lot of the species of Skylands were fairly small. There was probably some evolution stuff going on; needing less when travelling between habitable islands was really hard. But the Undead were a lot calmer, they kept to themselves.

"I'm gonna tell Hex and Roller Brawl." He stated.

Barbella and Terrafin nodded. "Good luck, we might need it."

-<🌀>-

The extremely few, shattered pieces of Light metal and tiny gems of Petrified Darkness rested on the table before the Dark Portal Master. His teeth ground together and his brow furrowed. Purple Darkness flashed in his burning eyes as the pitifully minute parts idly rattled back and forth around the small workspace. This was all his Spell Punks could bring back? Air Spell Punks whose entire purpose on that mission was positioning, could not drag back a portion of the Dragonslayer Armor. Even if it was a Lesser version, all of those models were expensive! They were special, made for putting dragons in the dirt! And this one didn't even leave the frustrating purple one limping. Limping! And that didn't even account for the Light metal covering its comparatively meek limbs, hollow chest, and flimsy spiritual skull. And that didn't account for the rockets!

No matter, Kaos justified, there were other tricks up his sleeve. He'd taken more than the Sky-freaks' dignity when he snatched their tome, he just needed the right-sized pieces of Darkness to put his new theory into motion. Darkness flowed through his sleeves and down his hands like fog as he turned his back to the workspace, facing his newborn Core of Darkness. The flowing yet stagnant Water shimmered violet, the gnarly brambles winding through the insides of his Lair tightened around its internal workings, and the purple fires alight beneath the growing gem of purple shadows swelled like a heartbeat.

He lashed out at the center with bolts of Dark, violet lightning. Abyssal shades blasted out of the giant crystal and drooped down along the ritual circle it was built into. The markings glowed magentas and reds as the gem accepted Kaos's power as much as it returned it. His entire fortress shook, yet nothing was flung off its anchors or hinges or shelves, nobody inside stumbled or tripped over the amount of power in equal parts holding everything together and driving it apart based on the inhabitants' convenience. He was already sure to harvest many of the smaller crystals and plant them around the castle, letting them grow away from any potential Skylanders' meddling incursions and suspicious eyes.

Glumshanks walked into the Portal Master powering and being powered by the Core of Darkness. As he had the last few days since the Graduation attack, he'd gotten done with maintenance quite quickly. His new black robes had already seen some wear and oily stains, but were washed off very easily compared to the brown ones he got by himself. The troll brought with him a bag of cookies from a shop they'd happened to stop near for the Air Source mission, which the Portal Master gladly accepted once his angry strike at his own creation was complete.

"Perhaps the Water Source will yield better results, sir?" Glummy offered while picking out his own cookie.

Kaos took a bite while basting arcs from his other hand. "Ideally." He grumbled and finished his spell break. "I've already gotten a hold of its location."

"Do the Skylanders?" Glumshanks asked while setting the bag on the table beside the remains of Kaos's knight.

"Not that I know of, but it's in the belly of a Leviathan, and it's made it strong." He tapped his chin in thought while pacing around the room.

Glumshanks stayed in the same spot as the Dark Lord plotted. His tall collar swayed with the disturbing motions of the Dark Core and a mix of his humming and footsteps echoed around the walls. "Have you considered opening a portal underneath it?"

"Too big." Kaos explained briefly. "The portal wouldn't be able to catch it in its entirety, not unless I was watching it swim around in everyone's sight, bringing the Lair closer would just give away the plan, and the Elemental Sources have been known to tamper with rift integrity if the Elements don't match." His fingers tapped together.

"Have you considered trapping it inside a rift like that Aspirant?" He suggested alternatively.

"That much activity would draw attention, and Eon's guard is up, he'd snatch it away just because he knew I was after it." Kaos critiqued again. "Besides, it's taken a liking to eating ships, he'll want to remove it, anyway."

Kaos leaned against the table with Glumshanks and grabbed another cookie. They were the crunchy kind with a strong cinnamon smell, the bag alone was like a drop of blood in shark-infested waters. The Light metal and Petrified Darkness blinked around him as he and his trusted troll thought over the opportunity. Any portals would give them away, as would bringing their home closer, there was no garuntee the Eternal Water Source would let him get close for the same reason nobody could simply take the Air Source, and they had no idea how much time they had until the goodie-two-shoes warped the massive fish away and happened to detect the Source inside.

He would need to send more minions after it, most with the intention of dying in battle. The only way for them to get the job done would be to have a meat shield between the Source and the Skylanders. That would take bodies, bodies would take gold, gold would come from the recently taken oil fields, so those would be the priority until an opening presented itself. He didn't match the source itself, but neither did Eon. Skylanders versus whoever he could scrape together; a numbers game stacked in his favor. The Skylanders were known, even the ones who'd just graduated, thanks to his assault, but not all of his cards had been shown. Even his knight was just a test run that may not even amount to anything.

What numbers weren't going to solve was how to capture it. A beast that big wasn't going to be chained down by some mere grunts, and he didn't want to throw his real warriors at the problem when his aquatic enemies would so certainly fight with everything they had and neither of the Elements strong to Water actually fared well on the waves. Kaos stared blankly into his cookie, it had an almost comically cartoony bite mark in it. His eyes narrowed into it like it was the piece to some puzzle he'd been trying to solve for hours. One of his sleeves hit the Light metal and he happened to hold the cookie in front of it while making sure nothing rolled off his workspace.

"When was the last time we took a fishing trip, Glummy?" He arranged the slivers of metal like a large hook and flicked the Petrified Darkness towards one end like some weights.

"Uhhh... We stopped by a river after you dangled some Mabu over the waterfall." Glumshanks hummed and snapped in recognition.

"Right, right." He grinned, memories~ "I want to test some things." Kaos smiled again, summoning a pair of old fishing rods.

Chapter Text

A lush mass of plants of countless colors both native to the country and brought over from old trips flourished across the garden, dripping with dew and a light amount of sugar water for the young flowers. She liked keeping them beneath the bushes, beneath the small trees. It was a little hard for them to get sunlight without trimming some branches, so she made sure they had a little treat. The extra delicate ones that weren't able to survive in this part of the world. Insects, especially her favorite ladybugs and buzzing little bees, crawled and flew around the menagerie of flora and squirrels hid from distant hawks beneath the carefully cultivated foliage. She was pretty sure a family of rabbits had burrowed beneath one of the berry bushes, too! But she'd yet to see them running about.

Until then, Adrianna glossed over her garden and the years worth of work, blood, and sweat she'd poured into it, counting her flowers and making sure she'd visited every single one of them. A straw hat gifted by her grandmother was starting to droop over her face and her baggy white shirt and gray pants were stiff with mud stains and smears of grassy green. Her tan skin was soaked in sweat that stuck the grimy clothes to her body while she carved out a spot for some new seeds between a pair of flourishing bushes. Her deep brown gloves got caught on some of the thorns while she stood over the plants so she could see where the seeds were falling, then crouched back down to easily tuck in every pod with a pile of soil and dribble sugar water along the top. Not like the bushes wouldn't want a good treat. It felt like all she was missing was a cactus.

Some roses were on her mind, though, bright yellow ones for everyone at school come Valentine's Day. Shouldn't take too long to get them ready. Then again, she hated to pick and trim them. The whole point was letting them grow! Speaking of which, some of the small vines were creeping up the fence again, the neighbors hated when they slithered onto their property line. That specific set of clippers she used made her heart hurt, but she had to if she wanted to keep getting new flowers. Those blossoms got her almost as much and frequently more than being a minimum wage teen slave, and she didn't have to deal with shouty people every day.

Even still, she salvaged the tips of the vines. Green sap leaked from their ends and stuck to her gloves like they were crying for help. Adrianna gently braided them together and tucked them along the bottom of the bright white fence, where there was a lot of sticky green material already staining the painted wood, covered by some fairly tall grass where the lawn mower couldn't quite reach. She pulled another, small but long set of shears and held a glove under the blade as she trimmed it down. She went back and forth between the compost bin and grass until everything was recollected. When she was done, she took a step back atop the thin cobble path running a short loop between her bushes and small trees, flowers growing between the jagged bricks, and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Anna, is your homework done?" The glass door slid open for her Mom.

Oh, right. "Uh, sorry!"

"It's not my job to remind you about school, you need to get your work done before you play with your plants." She scolded the girl as she rushed to rip her gloves off and get inside.

"B-But Dad helps me with Math! He's not home for another hour!" Adrianna set her things to the side and scraped her shoes on the scratchy mat. It'd been replaced recently and there was already a mix of brown and green smudges all over the 'home sweet home' cursive.

"Then you better start doing what you can so you're not waiting to water the garden." Her Mom stepped aside and protected her eyes with a hand for the inevitable even some bits of straw went flying.

Not for the first time, she forgot about her hat and bashed it against the doorframe on her way through. The chin string strangled her before she pulled it through, getting some strands on the floor. "It's hot outside, they'll dry out!"

"Then you best hurry, young lady." Her Mom exasperated before preparing dinner. "Nothing's going to happen to them while you do your homework, they aren't going to burn away if you as you're told, first."

"Sorry!" Adrianna called behind her on the way to the shower.

-<🌀>-

It was a sunny day for the normally cold outskirts of the golden city and Cat's Eye Mountain, and especially for a plane of existence without a Sun. Bright golden light somehow ran through the freshly cut grass and the many trees lining the stone paths. The Life Islands were full of energy and the Undead retreated into their bone and black stone huts. The Water on the other side glistened like the clicking metal parts of the Tech platforms and the surface of the Earth's fine sands.

George wandered through the Academy grounds for some specific sets of crystals. The glowing ornaments along the edges of the main island were alight with magic, today, much like the flashing and rippling heat coming from the Magic Sea. One of them glowed orange when he approached and interfaced with the runes around its base. Cyan and orange wisps glowed around him like a slow whirlwind and rolled along his arms, dripping with power.

The flowing magic soothed the growing headache amassed from the sleepless nights spent worrying over rifts and portals. In a flash, he was before a decently sized house of white walls and dark blue roofing. A quaint little garden lined the walkway up to the blue front door and beneath each window. The trees were bountiful around one segment of the house and heat rippled off of the other. On one more portion, behind the masses of greenery and resilient orchids growing over the top of the floral module, grew many colorful crystals; most were pink or purple, but a share of steely blues and dull grays were along its side.

The archway doorframe was divided into thirds. One on the side was marble with a gold trim, another was made of sturdy wood and vines, and the top was painted with reds and oranges running between heated rocks. Each had the Magic, Life, and Fire Emblems in their centers, but a pair of swords and a sparkly staff flanked the former two on the wall itself while the very top had a clenched fist. He grabbed the gold door knocker, shaped like a portal frame, and bashed it a few times before the flaps of wings met him.

Spyro opened the door for the Portal Master who'd unknowingly replaced him, almost letting a wince show. "Hey! What brings you here?" He answered with faux disinterest, checking his pearly talons while waving the Shield of Terra inside. The scent of pancakes wafted outward while the warmth of a stove hissed and crackled away. It looked like their kitchen had a charcoal over heating the closed center and the metal grill atop which a pan sizzled.

Bacon grease hopped out of the skillet and onto the Lava Elemental as he jostled it and another pan with a pancake. He flopped the flapjack onto Stealth Elf's plate and scooped the bacon onto a small pile of napkins. The Elf ate up her breakfast quickly while Eruptor held his plate over his large, yellow-toothed jaws. Both of them gave him a small greeting, Eruptor with a bit more enthusiasm than the ninja. She was half-asleep and resting her head against the palm of her hand.

"Hey, George!" Eruptor smiled and waved a blob. His bright yellow teeth burned away the remnants of the bacon like a natural toothbrush. "What's got you up so early?" He asked in the middle of George's greeting.

"You said you'd help figure out why my shield worked so well on you." George reminded the lumbering giant. Also, being a Magic Skylander, he might be able to get Spyro to tag along.

"Oh! Right." He sheepishly brushed a limb behind his head like he was rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not a Sorcerer but I should-"

"SKYLANDERS!"

The whole island, even if it was a bit small, shook with how high George jumped out of his sandy skin. His eyes were still blaring bright orange light 'burning' with puffs of sand and dirt that glowed and flowed through his hair. A walking fish similar in color to that crystal bow-wielding crocodile blasted through the door. His big yellow eyes were sharp and focused on the purple dragon and Lava Elemental. Fins like ears and a mowhawk flared and bounced as his rapid footsteps splatted across the floor like he was wading through puddles. Thick, dark blue gambeson stitched in the image of scales were fastened around his forearms and shins by black leather belts and silver buckles. He was hauling a harpoon gun the size of his torso like it was a mild inconvenience, it looked more like it was loaded with massive fish hooks than triangular harpoons.

Stealth Elf, the poor girl, jumped out of her seat and very nearly threw one of her double-sided daggers between the Water Skylander's bulbous eyes. Spyro had to fight not to arch his back like some hissing animal when Gill Grunt barged in unannounced and uninvited; he was lucky he was a Skylander and didn't try that with one of their rooms. Eruptor's attention on the Shield of Terra quickly shifted to the intruder, instantly positioning himself between the fish and Elfie before he registered who'd trespassed. Though the formerly retired soldier wouldn't attack someone's home so flippantly, such a thing had happened to him even after his home was moved to the Castle (That poor Fire Dog...), he wouldn't put such a thing on his allies lightly.

"Kaos bumped up his oil drilling operation, every minute we waste is a skyship of oil heading straight through a portal!" The fish man called to the group with a voice gargling water. His tall, thin tusks flickered in front of his eyes as he looked between the Fire breathers. "Boomer is already on the Dread Yacht, we need you two to blast the cauldrons to Darkness Come while the rest of us free my people and drive out the Trolls!"

"On it!" Spyro answered like a soldier before launching up to his room.

"Boomer?" George had to make sure he heard the fish right, then his eyes widened. "You're bringing Fire Skylanders to an oil refinery!? Is blowing up the island part of the plan!?"

The Water Skylander checked the four-hooked harpoon locked in his gun and shifted the end over his shoulder like he was readying a musket. "Normally, bad idea, I know, but Kaos doesn't take kindly to losing gold because of the Trolls' explosions, every one of them have special valves that'll cushion the blow."

"They're tough to make, too, he'll hate watching them go up in flames." Spyro returned and boasted with a bundle of scroll papers under his arm.

"Sorry, I'll make it up to you!" Eruptor told George as he pursued the Gillman out the door.

He was going to at least speak to the dragon before he departed, but the winged lizard zipped out the door far too quickly... and returned to the Forest Elf's side just as quickly as she tiredly teleported back to her seat. "There's some migraine stuff in a box next to my closet." He informed her and rushed back out the door... then back again just as the Human put together what that violet blur was. "Just let Big E and I know if you need anything else." And he was off... Not for the last time. "DO NOT touch anything else, I'll know."

She gave him a pathetic thumbs-up without lifting her head from the countertop and he departed for the last time. "You, uh, you sure you're not siblings?" George awkwardly joked after a brief, tense silence.

One of her ears perked and she forced her head off the table. Her bright white eyes were glazed over like she was looking at something through him. "What?" Stealth croaked.

She hadn't stopped looking like death since the guys left. "Y'know, siblings? You two just reminded me of my little sister." George hollowly chuckled. For a little while now, it'd been the longest he'd ever gone without seeing her.

It took a minute for her brain to catch up. "Right, Whisper." And he was pretty sure she didn't actually catch a word he said.

He snapped his fingers and summoned another slice of bacon into his hand with a flash and small splatter of grease, then pointed to Stealth Elf's plate to do the same. "You good?"

"Just tired." She forced out her voice and slowly nibbled the bacon. "You?"

"Could be better, could be worse." He shrugged and warped to a seat across from her. She didn't have her makeup on; dark green freckles speckled her cheeks and ran down her body. The black clothes he got for her while waiting on the purple dragon (whom he'd been trying to talk to for the better part of a month and didn't really remember what he wanted to bring up) had some light stains of varying colors, mostly greens and whites with a bit of sky blue, though they were incredibly faint and small. It reminded him of the aftermath of an art event at school. "Do you paint?" Her head flicked up and her ears twitched.

"My little sister's artsy, she loves scribbling on the walls. Only reason I noticed." George pointed to a tiny splat of mossy green on one of her tank top's straps. She slapped a hand over it like a bug was on her shoulder. "Nothing's wrong with that!" He waved it off. But fine, she didn't have to share, though he still smirked in exhausted amusement. "But seriously, you're totally their lil sis."

"Right." Stealth pretended she understood and blinked slowly. Once she finished the bit of bacon, her head started falling toward the table and against her palm again. She wasn't even looking at him.

"You sure you don't need anything before I head out?" George offered.

The Life Skylander half-lucidly glanced out a window and pulled herself upright. "Could you just... water the garden for me?"

"Sure." He agreed. It was pretty small and he spotted the hose around the side of the house, not even stuffed in a shed or covered in bugs. Even then, this place was pretty rainy and there was some cold dew lingering on the flowers. It wouldn't take long to top them off, let her know when he was done, and reunite with Hex and Roller Brawl for some Earth studies. Besides, she needed a break.

-<🌀>-

"I'm still not sure about this..." Eugenie admitted and held the gleaming chrome sword far away from her face like it was an angry snake. The dark blue leather handle fit snugly in her grasp and the silver winged guard, pointed pommel, and relatively short straight blade were lightweight and smoothly cut through the Crypts' stale air, but it was still a deadly weapon with a slightly menacing sky-blue gem embedded in its center.

"Come on, Jenny, you're a natural." Cynder praised and stood up on her hind legs. Her wings and forelegs popped and cracked as she stretched. "Not like it can chop your arm off." The dragoness slyly grinned.

Eugenie didn't notice how hard she was gripping the sword until she forced her grip to relax. One at a time, she loosened her muscles and lowered her stance. Air started swirling around her body, it'd gotten both more familiar and more comfortable as she adjusted to the constant rush of power flowing freely from her Soul, through and around her physical form, and beneath and above her clothes like neither they nor her body were even there. A ghost with a chilly breeze running right through her.

Fighting the urge to awkwardly grab the sword with both hands like one of the baseball bats she'd never touched in her life, she jabbed the sword to the side. While the largest segment of the circle on Cynder's head flashed bright pink, the gem in the sword's guard blinked and exuded a whirlwind. As far as she could tell through the dim flash of white sparks crackling through the extending blade, the extra Air effect was only possible when she was holding it. A projection of thought and magic glowed out of Cynder's marking and eyes as she clapped her claws together. She twisted them in separate directions and parted her shining talons with a metallic shink as a psionic line rested between her reddish paws.

Eugennie's gifted Sky Baron sword clicked apart into a long, sharp ribbon that spun and whistled around her Wind Aura as the top end of Cynder's psychic staff gained the long, featureless edge of a blank farming scythe. It hissed through the dusty ground as she expertly (and a bit intimidatingly) twirled it through her claws and spun it around her neck as if there wasn't a massive edge moving right around her collar and scattering pink and purple sparks around the hooked tips of her folded wings. Her long tail playfully flicked across the ground as she walked like a Human around the Portal Master, the perfectly straight staff of her weapon resting between her arms and wings' shoulders.

"A Major Creation Crystal and Air gem were sustaining that thing for a long time before I found that ruin, it's stronger than you'd think, especially in your hands, and easy to repair; don't be afraid to get experimental." She recommended before launching the scythe into another twirl around her wings and forelegs, quickly dropping into a low stance with the tip of the blade jutting upward from the dead ground and pointing at Eugenie. A big, toothy grin was plastered over her reptilian face and her steely blue eyes glimmered in the weak Undead light.

"That doesn't mean I wanna hit you!" She protested as her Wind Aura kept the extremely fast and sharp steel from slicing off her arm.

"I'm a dragon! It'll be fine! Just do your best, we'll sort through it later." Cynder promised and blinked her bright pink eyes. Ripples of psychic energy yanked some small rocks out of the ground and held them around her body, a series of anchors letting her track her position in space. Jenny shifted her stance a few times while Cyn, frustratingly silent and smug, didn't even adjust her grip or slide a foot through the ashy sand.

Eugenie twirled the sword-whip around her body, following a fluid path so no sudden changes in direction would ruin her control or the momentum of her Air. Rings of white and gray wind rushed beside her hips and over her shoulders as she built up momentum with figure eights and reluctantly lashed out at the dragon. Cynder dodged in a black and platinum blur that barely even left a puff of sand fluttering behind her. The sword vibrated in her arm as the wind rushed down the blade, the force making more of a sand cloud than her opponent's evasion. She shot forward before she knew where Cynder had gone, trying to get toi a blank part of the barren isle and reorient herself when some glowing pink and purple rocks shot beside her.

Lines of energy like the strings of a slingshot connected to the floating stone. Jenny kept sprinting between the two, trying to get out of their bounds but not knowing how far the dragoness would launch herself. She spun the sword above her head to regain the motion while fleeing, but a flash of lavender and violet sparked behind her as the scythe slashed the tip of her weapon right out of the fight. Her sword flailed wildly about her head.

She spun and stopped at the edge of the island. Wind swirled around her and tried to push against the unstoppable dragoness. Her sword's ribbon coiled tightly around her arm, the tip being dragged down by Air as she pulled up in the handle. The metal sparked again as she bashed away another strike, a defensive trick Cynder took great care to research and teach her because of the whip version's lacking defenses, but it also marked the end of her little streak.

Just as fast as she appeared, Cynder lunged to the side and hooked her scythe around the back of Eugenie's knee, pulling her to the ground so her own Wind Aura blew dust all around her body. Thick enough to obscure her vision, she couldn't see how fast the tip of the scythe started hovering over her chest until trying to get up only jammed it into the center of her sternum and maroon shirt. Since when could she do anything on two feet!? The dragoness's smile widened and a mischievous wink blinked the bright arcane light of one eye. Even her claws playfully and musically tapped a tune against her psionic weapon's staff.

Cynder returned to the center of the island with a single flap of her wings, far faster than she had using the rocks as a slingshot. "Gonna have to try a little harder than that, Portal Master." Not even her chest heaved and huffed with effort.

"H-How do you know I wasn't going easy on you?" Eugenie pathetically teased back, Cyn just fondly rolled her crystalline eyes.

"Juuuuuuuust brush yourself off and try again. Remember, there's something really special in you; once you figure out how to use it, nothing can stop you." The dragoness smiled and leaned against her scythe while waiting on the Portal Master.

She got up with a strong breeze that reignited the aura swirling around her. Her sword billowed like a cape off to her side before she began twirling and swinging it again. And again, Cynder avoided every serrated, woven string's strike like the tip was phasing right through her. Deflections with the staff of a weapon that only existed at the behest of her very mind, blocks with the carefully positioned cuffs and spikes about her limbs and tail, evasions masked in the dust of long lost corpses and violet shadows.

And she failed, a lot, to get so much as a scrape off on the rich black beast dashing and swirling about the small, remote island like they were in a pinball machine and one of them kept falling through. But Cynder didn't give up, she wouldn't let Eugenie, and she lasted a little longer every attempt. Just a few seconds at a time. Even then, there were plenty of fumbles that sent her average right to the bottom of the infinite Skylands. Her whip began hitting closer and closer to where she intended. With practice, Cyn slowly phased out of using her psionics to move about the island; she promptly used it to put Eugenie right back in the ground as her wings rushed far faster and turned on even harsher angles as if they were subtle curves one wouldn't even notice. But Jenny could follow, now.

At least Cynder had a soft, calm smile as she zipped around the Portal Master, who didn't think the dragon expected her to see it. The gently closed eyes and slight rise in her scaly cheeks that weren't supposed to see the light of day, meant to be hidden by the blur of grace and quick disarming slashes.

Chapter Text

The rumbling machines and fleeing cargo ships shook the Skylands and sent ripples through the water around the Gillmen's gathered islands. Chaining so many water isles together was a monumental task for such a few, isolated, and humble people. They'd gotten lucky with all the swimmable water around them. Flynn dropped them off at a disconnected spot with some sandy grass and Gill Grunt's contact, a greener fish by the name of Gurglefin, awaited them beside the old yellow hermit he'd hidden away with, right at the edge of the factory. While Elfie got a good break, he and Eruptor would systematically run through every part of the oil refinery until there were no more working drills or storage tanks.

Boomer and Gill Grunt would be at their sides, keeping Trolls back so they could burn every last drop of oil poisoning this island and liberate the Gillmen before they became fishsticks. He could already smell the sauces and oily flames billowing down the breeze. The Skylanders quickly acknowledged the pair by the entry island before taking off. Spyro shot through the air as Gill Grunt fired up his Water pack, Eruptor and Boomer ran through the front path. Even with two competent teams (minus Elfie), they were hardly unbothered by time. Freeing the civilians was of the highest priority, and he had a feeling Kaos knew that; fish man shields for his oil tankards.

Fireballs and barbed harpoons rained on the standard Greasemonkey unfortunate enough to be guarding the gateway. Corpses of non-man fish floated to the surface beside boxes of valuables thrown out of the invaders' way. Focus on it, focus on them, get mad, get livid. Spyro repeated to himself. Why he ran out of steam at the Stormy Stronghold raid, he still wasn't sure; he'd gone as far as he could to keep his flames bright and rage high without consuming him, he just found it difficult to care at the very end. But it wouldn't happen again, not when there were so many people at risk. It was all about Passion. He had to keep fighting. He had to get everyone out alive, he had to save them, he would save them.

Grenadiers and Tech Spell Punks with their flak armor and gray robes threw explosives as high as they could and summoned lasers to pursue him. Gill Grunt wasn't far behind as he spun mid-flight, gathering fire all around his scales and fanning it with his wings, and blasted down at the Troll Gunners and machinery, only descending to collect their valuables and melt through the locks on Gillman-sized bird cages. He swiftly cleared the area and pointed them towards the Dread Yacht with a warning to cover their gills. Most jumped right off the side and swam across the surface for their lives, smacking aside the lifeless, oil-drowned bodies of their limbless brethren in a desperate rush to get away from the Trolls. The loudest, most intelligible thanks came from the older folk who'd lost the fear of their captors before they even appeared.

Spyro prioritized the furnaces and piping junctions. While they weren't the main drills, refineries, and barreling functions, they were often used as backup exhausts. Crystal beam locks were the next biggest priority; they automatically deactivated when the puzzle was solved, removing power receptacles would gradually cause a backup in the system, meaning certain flows would have to be shut off before they overloaded and blew up something important, like their quarters. Excellent healing they may have, Trolls didn't recover that quickly, and the Water and Tech Skylanders would effortlessly finish them off or arrest them with the powers of this area.

His abilities, on the other hand, felt like they were being sapped no matter where he flew. Everything was either suited to Gill Grunt or Boomer, even Eruptor got a break from the obsessive and clingy moisture in the Tech spots. If it wasn't his flames, it was his very Soul being flushed down the arcane drain. But that just meant he had to work twice as hard to burn through their metals and claw open the cages. Why stop there? He should be fighting three times as hard! Four times! MORE! Turn the heat as high as he could! No stopping until the floor was caving in right beneath the smoldering Trolls' feet and the Grenadiers' pointed helmets were melding with their thick skulls. No stopping until their precious explosives were bursting right in their bloody hands and their machines were a light touch away from reducing the entire island to rubble. No stopping until even the escaping tankards were ignited.