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The Legend of Spyro: Path of Delusions

Book VIII: Land of Confusion

Chapter 1

The book was gone, it vanished under a thick layer of shadow, the yellow light unable to pierce through the dark obstacle. The light didn't fight the darkness, in fact it was mending with it, petting it, having no intention to disperse it. The shadow wiggled gently on top of the book, its golden text serving as the perfect cushion. This was the union that neither of the opposing forces wanted to ruin.

*

The keeper of the world's records returned to his vigil, despite the cold calculation and rational approach he too had difficulties remaining true to his objectives. Once he faltered already, he for who consciousness and morality cannot be more important than truth. Another moment like that was approaching, the sensation of it incoming was potent, the reasoning behind such sensitivity was greatly elusive however.

The greyish-light blue dragon ceased his thoughtful journey back and forth across his citadel of knowledge. He looked through the window, into the black, unknown and mysterious void beyond, it felt so much more clearer than the confusion wrecking his usually rational mind.

He approached one of the pedestals dotting the room, objects hovered in the air, swirling in their own time and place, a movement an eye could not see, but the mind could feel. Even the paradoxes in this eerie and mysteriously gloomy room weren't difficult to fathom.

He glanced into the familiar time, flipping through the pages with almost fervent determination, he simply had to know the answer.

He felt it was important.

*

The answer should be obvious, am I right? You see fire, you rush to quench it, you see a crack in a wall, you run up to patch it. It's nature, if you are brave and confident your instinct demands to fight danger with a force that can easily defeat it.

In this equation we won't consider the option of avoiding danger or running away from it. It adds to much unnecessary complications and to understand something truly, we first need to understand the basics and form a core of our knowledge regarding a specific topic.

Life teaches us that this is easier said than done.

Evil versus Good, locked in the eternal struggle, one always trying to dominate the other, nobody questions that, these two were always on each other throats. This is a fight that many understand, your morality puts you in one team or the other and you join the fight against your enemy that is a complete opposite of your own views and threatens to destroy everything you hold dear.

Simple, isn't it?

From this conclusion only one realization is born.

For the fight to finally end one side must one day win.

Easy and clear resolution.

If we close our eyes here and decide we now know and understand the basics, it all becomes a downhill slide which puts up the same, familiar obstacles on the way. It is when we keep our eyes open and brains sharp we see that these basics, while true are easy to understand but difficult to gain real value of.

It's like watching a game of chess, from the outside everything looks quite simple, but only when digging deeper into the soul of the game we see its true worth.

I believe that the same rule applies to Life and the Eternal Struggle. The basics are there, playing an important role and a crucial one for many souls, the essence however is visible to only a few.

What if what we take for a fight is actually a chase?

Not that of a predator and prey.

But that of a blinding affection?

It matters not how fast light may travel, darkness shall always be there awaiting its arrival.

Relationships are difficult and hard to comprehend at times, our mundane ones sometimes end with petty bickering. Are we with whole certainty can say that mortal enemies fighting each other for eons cannot develop some other relation between each other than hate alone?

If you hunt and finally end up killing the mark you stalked for years, do you feel completed when you see life fading from its eyes?

The fight between Light and Darkness is basically unending, from all this chaos that I believe is stirred by more things than just dislike and hate something special can be born.

I do not know what the repercussions may be of such an union.

I fear it as much as I crave it.

Still, I feel that the struggle must continue, there has to be balance.

I decide to be thrown into the whirl of this love-hate battle, I need to be torn apart, because otherwise I feel that I would cause disaster.

I decide to leave the basics to someone else.

Is it a good thing to do, or not?

I do not know.

I do not want to find out.

Because I am scared of dominance. Because I would lose too much.

If I got rid of my demons, I'd lose my angels.

Excerpt from the Book of Time Legacy of the Ancestors

*

He drummed a hollow melody with his claws on a flank of a cold statue representing a dragon proudly standing on both hind legs with his wings spread widely as if trying to embrace the whole world in a protective cocoon.

Many such statues dotted Warfang, but this one here, in this less populated corner of the city, on the lower level, right in between the living zone and the temple was extremely annoying to look at.

Annoyance turned to disgust when after nearly constant poking the statue didn't do anything to smack his claws away.

It wasn't possible, he knew that, but there should be some awe, or basically any other emotion to be felt in the presence of this artificial dragon. After all this specimen is presented as the confident protector of the world.

There was nothing.

The pride is a lie.

With an angry hiss he clenched the statue's flank, veins of frost appeared in gentle cracks stretching on the surface of the worn statue, spreading like first tendrils of infection.

His eyes narrowed on the lines of frost, a soft wavering breath escaping his throat when for a second he imagined the blood of his race dripping in the cracks.

As cold and lifeless as the statue.

They have temples, they have priests, they are being worshipped, he never believed that the last thing would ever bother him, but there it was standing out like a black sheep among its white herd.

This combination was toxic and it was poisoning his people.

He understood the importance of peace, constant warfare leads to annihilation, usually of the attacker, history has taught people more than once that there is no amount of dominance that can last forever. If you keep shoving your strength down the world's throat, it will eventually retch and spew all that bile right at you.

Peace didn't mean stagnation however, nor did it mean recline, right now both are prominent in this damn city. It was like this damn meekness would be poisoning every brick and every atom of air in this damn dump of a capital.

Spyro surmounted all the obstacles that evil has thrown his way and yet this people, instead of being inspired to follow in his example became even more complacent. The training sessions are not able to fill those holes where once grew powerful, ferocious fangs, his kind was as toothless as a turtle.

Spyro is the only dragon besides himself that forces the progress of dragonkind as a specie, sadly he is only a single individual, not enough to show the world what it means to be a dragon.

After Boven things took too much of a drastic turn, back in the days a legion of dragons would leap into the fight at the first sign of danger and quenched the threat before it could take roots. They would fight until victorious, or defeat and the only thing that can defeat a dragon is another dragon.

People like to hate on Cynder and Malefor, but those two were the clear indication that more development is needed, they dominated their weaker enemies, as it should be. Their forces countered them with an even more powerful force in the shape of Spyro.

The progress of warfare should continue from there, Spyro's triumph hatching more powerful generation of dragons like himself.

Nothing like that happened.

The predatory instinct of his kin fell asleep, all they wanted to do after was to rest and spend time with their families. Important, but so overrated.

It all would be tolerable if not for the fact that they never woke up, they went into Boven with the strength of a lazy bear and got decimated. Instead of getting back furious and thirsty for blood, they covered and cuddled with their mates in their beds, shedding tears.

What happened to this world that a dragon cannot humiliate a walking rock?

Fuck all those theories about some dark, draconic figure, he didn't believe a word of that crazy story, for him it were merely excuses of a shocked mind.

Something has to be done about this.

He has to do something about this.

He can't allow his race to be turned into sheep.

Brill, this was the poison, the tranquilizer that keeps his people from waking up, his damn temples and damn prayers. Not to mention that he managed to turn several dragons into his moaning thralls, he had nothing against priests, faithful warriors are an important addition, an important quality.

Those clinging to the rat's dirty robes are not.

There's not even an ounce of a fighter spark in those priests, not even an ounce of draconic prowess. They have wings, they have scales and tails, they walk on four legs, but they are the epitome of an overgrown lizard if he had seen any.

Disgusting.

He couldn't care less what happens to them when things will finally return on their natural course, they can wither and die with broken hearts of lost purpose for all he cares.

They are meaningless.

Bad apples can be picked up and tossed away, that is no problem. To solve a bothersome issue one must reach its roots, only from there the real cleanup can begin.

His cold, blue eyes dragged themselves up, even from here he could see the roof of the temple, the trunk of the tree that bears the bad apples. The crown was spreading its toxic influence from the inside.

It was the most ugly and spit worthy crown he had ever the displeasure to see.

It was called Brill.

He growled in fury, he is a powerful dragon and he can't do anything to free his kind from the influence of this ancient rodent. He hated helplessness with every part of his being.

One swipe of paw would be enough to tear off that insolent head and drink blood from the fountain of arteries if he would lower himself to the level of trash of course, the guts of that dirt eater are not worth even a sniff of his nose.

His claws were tied unfortunately, as a respected Guardian he couldn't commit a deed as despicable as murder.

He shook his head, punching the statue in fury. He hissed when his blue scales cracked, the rock countering him with the same amount of strength. Rock differed from scales in one crucial way, its rough surface was like rows of small, sharp teeth of a piranha.

He jerked his paw away, spurting an ugly curse in some weird dialect, repeating some nastiness he didn't understand truly himself, something he found in some stupid novel he once read and simply the sentence sprouted roots in his consciousness.

He wasn't mad.

He felt revolted.

At no one else, but himself.

He hated the fucking rodent, he hated him with every old scale on his body and wanted him to disappear with every taken breath, but to even considering murdering someone?

This was unacceptable.

It would ruin his career as a Guardian, not to mention it would also ruin his soul.

People might think what they like, but he wasn't heartless, he was arrogant, proud and usually very honest when dealing with people.

Murder was despicable, killing someone in a fight is one thing, but lunging after a life that cannot defend itself? How could someone commit such a vile act and get up from bed the next day?

Excluding Cynder and utterly evil beings with absolutely no conscience.

He wouldn't be able to do that.

He is old, his Guardian friends are also old, they all are getting acquainted with the prospect of death far more deeply than the youngsters. They have seen their fair of killing and death and yet it didn't prepare him for Ignitus' passing.

He didn't let anyone else see, but the first two weeks after hearing the horrid news were horrible. He landed in a such ugly state after the death of his friend, old friend that should be acquainted with Death.

He didn't know what would be left of him if he murdered someone in cold blood. Losing a friend is tragic, but he imagined condemning yourself is even worse. Pain of loss eventually fades away.

Can the same thing be said about the tear on your soul after ripping away the life of innocent another?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" Cyril grumbled emitting a sound that was a mixture of pity, hate and self-loathing

He licked his cut paw, throwing the temple a disgusted glance, with the sight of his depressed imagination he could see the black, oozing tentacles of meek corruption slithering down the roof. Each lick filled his palate with the taste of rot, this is exactly how he imagined those invisible tentacles to feel like when they slither all around his race and suck away every valuable trait that makes his kind fearsome dragons.

"You look distressed Guardian, is everything all right?"

Cyril balked at the unexpected sound of the voice, it was gentle and seemed truly caring, nevertheless the first image that shot through his mind was that of a spider sweet talking its recently caught fly while licking its mandibles hungrily.

He spun around with a snarl, the reaction was automatic, he hated surprised, especially the ones that stir some kind of fright in him, even if the stab was just a little pinch. He was a proud dragon and simply despised the natural reaction of a terrified mouse.

He made sure to let anyone who played on this worthless instinct know just how much he likes it to be awaken.

His blue eyes landed on a young dragon with grey eyes and strong, malachite scales, he was powerfully built, a fearsome example of a dragon male. A beast many would cower from.

Would.

The dragon's gentle look and soft voice betrayed that fright for him was as alien as red is for a colorblind person.

The other thing that rendered the drake to the level of an unworthy bug was the fact that he recognized him from the temple. He was one of Brill's follower, still being a Guardian of this dump meant there are some rules to follow, even if he himself bends them on a daily basis, that didn't mean he didn't respect them.

When he could control his temper, he could control his respect.

Like for example now.

This was one of the moments where he hated his job.

"What do you want?" Cyril snarled at the young drake "I'm a busy dragon, I don't have time for the likes of you"

He looked the dragon over with a hiss of abhorrence, he could imagine him wearing robes stained with Brill's smelly touch. The perspective of that made him want to stomp the drake into the ground like some sort of trash.

Capro bowed with an apologetic wince, his gesture was submissive as it should be around dragon's of his stature, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something extremely infuriating about it.

"I'm just a humble citizen saddened by the gloom sight of my protector"

"You're just an annoying kissass that came groveling here for attention. You sicken me boy, run back to your master. I have no interest in dragons like you, you want something from me? Ask for an appointment like every other humble citizen"

The malachite drake raised his head, his expression was still carrying the unnerving signs of insufferable care.

"My Master is always with me, he's with all of us"

Cyril snorted coldly, if he ever had any patience for tolerating the presence of this boy, it all popped in this moment.

"You're right. I smell Brill's stench even here" he narrowed his freezing gaze on the dragon, clearly showing who is responsible for this discomfort

"Get lost"

There was some strange glimmer in those grey eyes that made him lick his mouth unnervingly, it lasted only for a second, like a murderous snarl of a soon to be killer that vanished when suddenly a door flung open in front of him, a crowd of people separating him from his prey.

"I don't want to sound sassy, but how many of Brill's followers have approached you Guardian out of their own, free will? Am I really sentenced to dismissal so quickly?"

"You zealots don't have free will, especially dragons that sacrifice their dignity like you. Get out of my sight boy before you'll regret it"

Capro winced, lowering his head, he looked genuinely hurt.

"It is tragic that you judge me so quickly, but I suppose it is warranted. We all make decisions, some of them good..." he looked up at the temple's roof, his snout contracting in a brief, wavering snarl "...some of them bad"

Cyril noticed his stare, it was not like his unwelcome companion tried to hide it to begin with. It was the look people make when they expected to buy the sweetest apples that existed in the world just to find out with one bite that they were the most sour thing that ever landed in their mouth.

He was too old, naivety was a rather non-existing factor in this period of his life now. Instead of swallowing that apple, he decided to spit it out, like it never was there in the first place.

"I'm not interested in your cries" Cyril snapped, tongues of icy mist wafting from his nostrils as he growled menacingly while leaning towards the young dragon "Don't take me for a fool kid, this is the worst mistake you can make. Far worse than selling your dignity to a rat"

Capro backed away respectfully, keeping his head low in a bowing posture.

"Have you never made something you regretted later Guardian? Was your long life perfect and pristine all the time?"

"Don't even try comparing yourself to me boy, we are not of the same caliber"

"Naturally" the malachite drake nodded

Cyril observed the dragon carefully, he showed all the necessary pliancy a subject should display around his betters, but instead of feeling arrogant success, he felt nothing else but a rather uncomfortable tingle of nervousness. He felt like uninvited guest to a party, invisible for practically his whole life, but in that very moment the center of attention like no one else important in the world existed, but him.

Despite his natural pride and hubris, this wasn't the most comfortable and pleasant of feelings.

"My question stands however" Capro continued softly "Even a magnificent creature like you Guardian had to make decisions that led to unfavorable results. No matter how rare and scarce those mistakes were, you had to knock at your heart once or twice and admit that you made a mistake. By logical assumption you wouldn't have the knowledge you have now if everything was easy, we learn from our mistakes after all"

Cyril's lip twitched in annoyance like a fishing rod with a fish tugging at the hook, his fangs kept pushing forth from the bouncing upper surface like that of a hissing, bloodsucking bat. He didn't like smartasses, especially those that don't have many years of lifespan in their wings. In his eyes only ice dragons are worthy of such behavior, still, life wasn't fair and he had to deal with such guys on a nearly daily basis.

The first one that got under his scales was Spyro, in his case however the annoyance faded quickly, he was young, much younger than the dragon in front of him when he made the impossible and managed to spring him free from Cynder's clutches. Not to mention he was the living legend Ignitus kept rambling about practically all his life.

He was aware of his value and stature, he was an ice dragon with royal roots after all, however no matter how powerful he can be he acknowledged power when he saw one. Spyro was just a brimming energy, is a brimming energy that you simply are forced to respect.

He had no objections about that, to evolve as a specie dragons need powerful leadership, they need standards and there is no other dragon in existence more capable of raising the bar of perfection than Spyro.

It was completely different with the malachite scaled dragon next to him, he was utterly and eternally irritating and there was nothing that would change that. if he ever dreamed of acquiring his respect, or even a tiny bit of curious attention, he was far too late for that to happen.

What really triggered his fury was the fact that the damn brat was right, no matter how annoying he was he would be stupid and stubborn to not acknowledge the wisdom in the dragon's words.

He nailed it.

The question was why he was so suddenly interested in engaging him in a conversation that really tried to flash out his good sides, not that it was easy to do after he ruined his reputation by siding with the mole.

Before he opened his mouth he already answered his own doubts and questions. Making sure to address himself with a silent curse as he did so, getting old was a disgusting thing to do, the mind stops working with the usual speed and wit he was used to.

He was in enough battles to know what this means. There are two options in this case, either the enemy tries to lure you in a trap, or the high ranked soldier of the enemy is genuinely disappointed with his leadership and is looking to betray his commander.

He couldn't decide what it was when it came to this young dragon, he however had his suspicions. Brill is an irritating little rat, but he is a priest nevertheless and that was what defined his actions. He didn't look for blame, he didn't develop false opportunities for someone to pursue, which would eventually lead to that someone condemning himself, losing all creditability in the end.

He didn't have to look for false blame, his targets were known to all. Even if Brill might be determinate in elimination of those targets, using priestly means if possible of course, it would go against everything he believed and strived to achieve if he lowered himself to deceit.

There was always a chance that he might be wrong, hence the doubt. They already met some of his drooling followers, while there was no evidence they belonged to the temple, or followed Brill's orders, he was certain that this was the case. Maybe they acted too rashly, maybe they followed their high priest's command to the last, or maybe they just lost their shit.

Religion can be blinding and brain sizzling if you are susceptible to manipulation and have no word and stance of your own.

He personally never accepted such argument, what's the point of calling yourself by name any longer if you don't have an opinion of your own and just follow the ideas of some proclaimed holy book or person word to word without any sense of your personal logic and your own conscience.

You are not susceptible to manipulation.

You are a fool.

Who needs crossroad demons to sell their souls to when true demons are just around the corner, telling you how you should live your own life.

Does partaking in such bargains really demands explanation?

He was sure Brill knew about everything, he was sure that the priest can and knows how to take drastic measures if he will be forced to, those moles were just a test. This is why the first option about that trap couldn't be so easily disregarded, as improbable as it may be.

He leaned towards the second option, towards the betrayal, he would lie if that didn't sound interesting, Every chance to be thorn in Brill's side was very alluring, he would be a fool however if he would leap at the opportunity without a slight time for consideration.

Cyril rubbed his icy beard thoughtfully, burying his intense, curious eyes into the dragon.

"Enough of this tiring subtlety and subterfuge. You are not speaking to one of your dumb, temple friends. Speak up your mind boy, right now"

Capro swallowed, he shuffled his right paw along the ground nervously, his head was aimed at the ground still. He took a wavering breath, his powerful built body seemed to shrink, strong, ripe muscles shriveled, empathizing his defeated expression and pose.

"I want to make up for my mistakes, somehow. I thought that in following Brill I would find peace. I lost my mother during Cynder's reign and after struggling for a while I had enough of killing and hurting people. The temple however wasn't what I expected, it turned out that I hurt those around me, Boven left a mark and it took a while for me to open my eyes. We were so fused on preparing to expel the Taint from our souls that we lost value of true danger. This led to many deaths, way too many. Many of those fallen were my friends that I convinced to unite with me in faith, it made them unprepared for the danger of reality"

"I can't help myself anymore, but at least I want to redeem myself partially by helping the city I basically grew up in. That's the least I can do, I heard many things and know many things, a tight knit group of faithful followers share many secrets that might be useful to someone like you Guardian. You have the power to change, I'm just a small dragon"

Cyril narrowed his eyes suspiciously, his paw never ceasing rubbing the frozen beard.

"And you expect me to believe in your sudden change of heart?"

Capro shook his head, letting out a depressed sigh.

"I don't expect anything" his voice was basically a whine "I just wanted to report to authorities, I don't know if its fate or just luck that I ran into you Guardian of all people when I wanted to declare my doubts and share whatever information I can provide. You are the highest authority there can be. If destiny exists then I suppose it wants to finally make a big play by pointing me in your direction"

The Guardian snorted, waving his paw dismissively.

"I'm tired of hearing your whining, you really want to share information about your master? Fine, let's put your honesty and value to the test. Did Brill declared any assassination contracts recently?"

Capro jerked his head back up, his snout wrinkled by a shocked frown.

"Assassination contracts? The Seeker?"

"Ohhh" Cyril huffed mockingly "Did your well informed kin didn't hear about the moles in the hospital some time ago? You won't go far with lies boy, not with me"

The frown on the drake's snout deepened when his mind sped up the process of sorting through all the stories and facts. The concentration didn't remain there for long, seconds later the wrinkle was gone, cast out by the gasp of realization wafting from the young mouth.

"The Seeker had nothing to do with it, he would never maim his followers"

The Guardian threw the paw that was rubbing the beard confidently back on the ground, the stomp spreading tendrils of frost like roots of a small tree on the ground near the paw.

"You failed the test" he stated coldly "There is neither value nor honesty in what you offer. You are wasting my time"

"I speak the truth, the Seeker is like a father figure to those he welcomes under his roof. He has a way of reaching into your soul, he is very charismatic, he doesn't have to force and hurt his people to do something. He only needs to ask and his flock will follow those orders blindly. There is not much value to be found in my words about this topic, since I don't know why the moles were in such a state, but I'm certain that Brill had nothing to do with it"

"I know those freaks came from the temple, there is no other place in this city that brainwashes people, so don't insult me by telling me that they didn't come from there"

"I'm sorry Guardian" Capro gulped, making an apologetic bow, aiming his gaze once more at the floor like a loyal peasant speaking to a king "I never said that those moles didn't come from the temple, all I clarified was the Seeker's innocence in this matter"

Cyril growled, this smug bastard was getting on his nerves, even if he showed a clear respect for his stature and displayed proper submissiveness there was something about the dragon that didn't click right with him.

Or perhaps being reminded of his quick judgment by a total stranger, an accusation that was very much warranted, after all he made a mistake in his wording, was what pissed him off the most. He didn't like to be wrong.

Perhaps it would be good to listen to what Terrador and Volteer have to say once in a while.

"If not Brill then who?" he snarled impatiently, he hated to be wrong, he really hated that

The malachite dragon shrugged sadly.

"I don't know"

"What value your words have about Brill's innocence then? Your opinion is worthless if you don't have evidence that would pinpoint another suspect. You are Brill's lackey, your words mean nothing, you are not a reliable witness"

"I cannot change that, I made a choice and I have to live with the consequences of that. All I have to offer is my words, whether they are believable or not is not for me to decide. My words point into one direction, in the innocence of the Seeker. I've spent in the temple a lot of time, the priest is old and he doesn't go out much, I've been around him most of the time, the Seeker even organized a sermon about this very accident , while he is adamant in purging the Taint and its corrupted entities he is against hurting innocents, the faithful included. I would notice if the Seeker committed some vile operations, he has very little privacy, the only way he would ever do something without anyone knowing is when he would be alone in his quarters, but that only would last for a while. The door to his bedroom would have to open eventually and the temple is always full of diligent caretakers, myself included, we would see something"

"Enough" Cyril snapped, throwing his paw forward in a commanding gesture demanding silence, it was really tiring listening about Brill's wonderful personality

It was making him sick.

"If you didn't come here to tell me about Brill breaking the law then what's the point of opening your mouth? I'm not interested in your heart troubles"

Capro looked up, there was something familiar in his grey eyes that made him lick his lips. For a second he felt as if he would be staring in a mirror, seeing a much younger version of himself in the reflection, radiating the only aura that pushed him through life.

Cold, arrogant determination to break whatever stalemate on the way to victory and progress. No matter the cost.

"I was searching for a figure of authority, not law cleric, I had enough of binds and you are the only one Guardian that understands that clinches need to be shattered, not loosened up and pleaded into opening themselves. To save a life, sometimes you need to make a quick cut to amputate the limb instead of treating the wound with ointments and hope it will be enough. While the latter might also work, it would take much time for the effects to kick in, in that time the body could suffer more injuries in its weakened state, leading to an even worse infection"

Cyril cocked his head, anxiously interested suddenly in what the boy had to say. Even despite that his tongue clicked inside his mouth, tasting and swallowing the sudden taste of rot in his mouth over and over again.

"What exactly you expect me to do boy?"

The drake smiled softly, Cyril's head was immediately filled with images of a red eyed beast sticking its head out from the shadows of its cave, presenting a vicious, hungry grin to a group of unfortunate adventurers that wandered an one step too many in the wrong direction.

"Nothing, I'm too insignificant to be making demands of someone like you Guardian. I'm just here to present my views to someone who understands authority and is an incarnation of one. Seeing your friends dying is horrible, even more scary is the fact that nothing is being done about it because we are too busy with our inner conflict. Warfang is a soil, and Brill is one of the trees with deep roots sucking nutrition out of it. You represent the other tree Guardian, both may live on this soil, but they will only sustain themselves instead of thriving. I see where the other path may lead and I don't like it, there is too much narrow mindedness, too much paramount waste. One tree must be cut down"

Cyril's eyes widened, he couldn't believe in what he was hearing, is the boy really trying to convince him to break the law?

"The other tree cannot risk its position" Capro continued "It has to thrive, it cannot fight by itself or it will put itself in danger. The tree needs a lumberjack to do the work, an insignificant ant that can be forgotten. When the tree falls it has to land on something, preferably smashing the ant instead of threatening the roots of its triumphant former partner"

He wanted to retch, his soul again started screaming at him, all of this stupid metaphors were pointing at one thing, or at least that's what he believed, that was his interpretation.

The dragon seemed to provoke him into committing murder.

Or was he imagining things?

Then why he felt so scared suddenly?'

"How swift the tree would fall if the lumberjack would wield an axe imbued with fire"

Cyril balked at the sole mention of flames and a tree in the boy's speech that was so closely related to the temple and Brill.

"Speaking of fire Guardian, I have a crime to report"

The ice dragon blinked, shaking his head to get rid himself of the troubling thoughts. Crime was the word that always put his senses in the right place, he was a Guardian after all and he had a job to do, a very important job of protecting this city.

By whatever means if necessary.

"Crime?" he stammered

Capro nodded respectfully.

"I know the culprit that was responsible for the explosion that occurred in a house of a mole family not so long ago. The fiery dragon named Flare is responsible for committing this vile deed"

He gasped in surprise, not because the probable culprit was revealed, in his years of life he heard far more shocking confessions than this. What surprised him was the strange jump from topic to another, just a moment ago they were talking about temple and Brill and now all of a sudden about Flare and fire.

He shook his head fiercely, forcing back composure to sink back into his mind, no matter how hard he tried however he couldn't free himself of that weird feeling of anxiousness, one that you feel whenever you are in a doctor's cabinet, following the needle as it moves towards you and prepare yourself mentally for the incoming incision, feeling pain even before the sting touches your flesh.

"You..." he rasped, licking his lips "...better have something else besides your word to support this claim"

Capro shook his head, it was a slow movement but there was no disappointment hiding behind it, it was like as if he would share bad news with which he already found closure.

Or never looked for any from the beginning.

"Unfortunately I don't have anything but my word, I hope for your trust here"

"You must be joking boy"

Capro sighed, he seemed to be depressed and disappointed, but he caught a glimmer inside those grey eyes that couldn't be mistaken for anything, but brevity.

Which made absolutely no sense since everything was covered in great detail.

"I had done my part for now Guardian, everything now lies in your claws of authority. My master has high hopes, you have the power to meet those demands"

Cyril narrowed his eyes on the drake, with each passing moment the kid sounded more and more like a crazy freak to him, capable of using normal words, but him being the only one that understood the true meaning behind them.

"What are you blabbering about boy?"

Another twinkle in the eye, so much similar to a glimmer of a bloodthirsty wolf's eyes in the dark.

"The future"