CHRONICLES OF THE NORTH: Darkar and the Armor of the Shadow Dragon
The chamber in Alfea was silent save for the crackle of ancient magic lingering in the air and the low, rhythmic hum of Spyro’s breath. Bloom stood by the massive arched window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the shadows of an unfamiliar horizon stretched long and deep. Sixteen years. Sixteen long years since she had first learned the truth of her birth, since she had walked the halls of this school as a bewildered girl from Earth, and since the magical realm had narrowly averted total ruin.
She turned back to face the gathering. Faragonda leaned heavily on her staff, lines of deep fatigue etched into her wise face. Laila—Layla, as her friends from Earth called her—stood beside the table, her expression grave as she reviewed the glowing fragments of parchment and crystal scales they had recovered from the outer rim.
"After a close examination of the evidence brought forth by Laila and our tiny friends," Bloom began, her voice steady though it carried the weight of a heavy realization, "our enemy is much stronger than we initially thought."
She looked directly at Faragonda. "Sixteen years ago, the realm of magic was on the brink of destruction, and we were told this was the result of the ancient witches who destroyed the kingdom of Domino, my planet."
Faragonda nodded slowly, her eyes sorrowful. "Yes, Bloom."
"But they weren't acting alone," Bloom said, taking a step forward. "They were following the orders of the Shadow Phoenix, Lord Darkar, who recruited the help of those three witches. And today? Today, that shadow has grown. It has the support of Commander Fulcan and the time-waking forces."
A sharp, metallic clanking echoed across the stone floor as Spyro shifted his bulk, his purple scales catching the amber torchlight. He lowered his horned head, golden eyes narrowing. "Has the Winged Goddess finally descended?"
Faragonda let out a slow, troubled breath. "Yes. But she has descended to another—Dragon King Von Flannel."
Spyro’s tail lashed against the flags with a dull thud. "Then there is only one power that can help us. Gaul Akron."
"Who?" Laila asked, stepping closer.
"The only one who has studied dark magic long enough to have a chance at helping us return Domino to its former form," Spyro explained, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "The Sage."
"Where can we find him?" Bloom asked, her inner flame flickering to life in her palms, casting a warm, determined glow across her face.
"He lives far to the north," Spyro said, looking out toward the icy peaks wrapped in perpetual storm clouds. "Far, far to the north. No one has spoken to him in ages."
Bloom clenched her fists, the orange light reflecting in her eyes. "I want to know what is happening. I’ve done what you have asked of me and followed your path."
Spyro looked up, meeting her gaze with a fierce, unwavering loyalty. "Then our path leads into the frost. We leave at dawn."
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