Council of Kandrakar: Syndicate 1999 – Year of the Crimson Dragon
In the neon-soaked ruins of Neo-Kandrakar, only one syndicate boss holds the flame
The Year of the Dragon hung heavy over the outer realms, its sky painted in hues of bruised violet and burning gold. Beneath the towering arches of the Dragon Temple, Ignitus stood sentinel over the radiant, shifting shell of the dragon egg. The prophecies had foretold the birth of a purple dragon—a savior born once every ten generations. But the prophets had spoken too loudly, and the Dark Master had heard every word. Ignitus gripped his talons into the stone, a bitter regret burning hotter than the fire in his throat. He should have hidden the egg weeks ago. He had truly believed they were ready for the coming storm. Oh, how tragically wrong he was.Beside him, young Spyro adjusted his stance, his scales catching the faint ethereal glow of the realm's fading light.
"The Year of the Dragon hung heavy over the outer realms, its sky painted in hues of bruised violet and burning gold. Beneath the towering arches of the Dragon Temple, Ignitus stood sentinel over the radiant, shifting shell of the dragon egg. The prophecies had foretold the birth of a purple dragon—a savior born once every ten generations. But the prophets had spoken too loudly, and the Dark Master had heard every word. Ignitus gripped his talons into the stone, a bitter regret burning hotter than the fire in his throat. He should have hidden the egg weeks ago. He had truly believed they were ready for the coming storm. Oh, how tragically wrong he was.
Beside him, young Spyro adjusted his stance, his scales catching the faint ethereal glow of the realm's fading light.
"Look," Spyro whispered, pointing a claw toward the twilight horizon. "A star's going out."
Prince Phobos watched the faint prick of light collapse into absolute void, his expression darkening. "Turning to darkness," he murmured, feeling the unnatural chill creeping through the air. A sudden spark of blue-orange fire shattered the twilight shadows nearby. Recca Hanabishi unclasped the leather strap on his right arm, revealing the intricate flame caster tattoo etched into his skin. His eyes burned with the spirit of the Hokage ninja as he stepped into the courtyard, the eight flame dragons slumbering beneath his skin restless and ready for battle.
Diaz, the stern warrior of the kingdom of Soulfan—which bordered the magic-steeped lands of Meridian—stepped forward alongside Recca, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword. "We better go. Now."
Spyro blinked, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself from an impossible nightmare. "What a dream... wait, this isn't a dream."
"They'll keep coming after you as long as you continue to wield the X-Blade," Diaz warned, his voice echoing in the cavernous temple.
Spyro looked down at the massive, crossed-blade key clasped in his claws, its faint pulse humming against his chest. "But why? Why would it choose a kid like me?"
Recca flexed his wrist, a jet of flame igniting around his fingers. "Keyblades, flame dragons... doesn't matter what powers we bring. If they want a fight, I'll burn through every dark creature they send."
Phobos paced nearby, his mind far away from the young dragon’s plight. The shadows stirring in the sky were familiar, reminiscent of the dark forces threatening his own royal bloodline. They too have been seeking the wielder of the Keyblade, Phobos thought, his chest tightening with desperate resolve. I wonder if they can help me find my siblings, Queen Elyon and Will Vandom...
"Go with them and find the King," Diaz commanded, turning his piercing gaze toward Prince Phobos and Recca. "The Svall demands allegiance if any of us are to survive this convergence."
Before Phobos could answer, a harsh, mocking laughter shattered the silence, echoing from the shattered stone courtyard outside.
"Look at you," cackled Narissa. The dark witch glided forward on a mist of green flame, her eyes burning with contempt as she addressed the assembled foes of Kuruda and Kandrakar. "Powerful, dangerous... yet one defeat turns you into sulking children. If you can't even handle the temple guards, are you really able to defeat the Queen?"
Ignitus stepped between the witch and the egg, shielding Spyro with his vast red wings, while Recca raised his glowing right arm to unleash Saiha's flame blade.
"May the ancestors look after you," Ignitus whispered, glancing down at Spyro, Phobos, and Recca one last time before unleashing a torrent of flame toward the encroaching dark. "May they look after us all."
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