Winged Goddess: Clash of the Light Warriors – The Shadow of G
The wind over the jagged peaks of the holy nation of Ashlina blew cold, carrying a sharp, unnatural stillness that made even the dust on the ancient stone roads seem to freeze.
In the dim light of the obsidian courtyard, Bloom stood near the worn altar, her flame flickering softly around her fingers. Beside her, Spyro let out a heavy sigh, his purple scales gleaming under the pale sky as he looked around the deserted, ancient ruin.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" Spyro called out, his voice echoing off the massive carved pillars. He waited a beat, ears twitching, before dropping his snout in frustration. "I have completed your test! What do I do next? How do I find you? Is anyone there?"
Silence was his only answer.
"Great. Now the voice in my head is ignoring me," Spyro muttered, turning toward Bloom and Van Fanel, who was resting against the hilt of his broadsword, his eyes fixed on the distant skyline where dark clouds were twisting in unnatural spirals.
"It’s not just a voice, Spyro," Bloom said softly, her blue eyes dark with concern. "It’s a pull. Something ancient is waking up."
Van Fanel crossed his arms, his leather armor creaking in the cold air. "It was the ancient people of Ashlina who first discovered the existence of a sacred power—a power that flows through all living things," he said, his voice grave. "But these days, a shadow lurks over the purity of Soma. It brings anxiety with it, like ill tidings and bad omens floating in the very air blowing through these mountains."
He knelt by a shattered stone seal on the courtyard floor, running his gloved fingers over the clean, precise cuts in the granite.
"There's no doubt about it," Van said, his jaw tightening. "This was done by one of my men. But it would take the skills of a Svall to pull off a breach like this... and the only Svalls left are you, me, Darkness, Valtor, and Scarface."
Bloom stepped forward, her voice low. "There was one more, Van."
Van snapped his head toward her, his gaze sharp and dangerous. "That's ridiculous. He's dead."
Before Bloom could reply, the shadow over the courtyard deepened, blotting out what little sunlight remained. A low, resonant voice—neither male nor female, but echoing from every direction at once—whispered through the howling wind, carrying a hypnotic, suffocating melody:
Just fade away now... just fade away... this whole world, let it all just fade away... come, my kindred spirit, I hear you from the world beyond... you are the chosen one... you are the winged Goddess... you shall travel to our world to fulfill the prophecy...
Spyro growled, his tail whipping back and forth as he shook his head against the ringing sound. "There it is again!"
From the edge of the darkened woods surrounding the ruin, a towering figure stepped into view. Covered in dark, jagged armor that seemed to absorb the light around it, Lord Darkar extended a pale, sharp hand. His eyes burned with an icy red glare as he looked down at Bloom.
"I want to tell you a story that I kept secret for a long time," Darkar whispered, his voice like grinding stone, carrying effortless authority. "This is the story of a battle that took place many years ago... the Company of Light in their greatest battle—the one against myself, the Three Ancient Witches, and Valtor."
Bloom raised her hands, sparks of the Dragon Flame dancing on her fingertips. "We know about the Dragon Flame, Darkar."
Darkar let out a low, mocking laugh that shook the ancient stones beneath their feet. "You know only the half of it, child. When the Great Dragon created the magical Dimension, a small piece of its flame fell into the dark void. It mixed with the raw power of the darkness itself... and that is when the Three Witches found it."
He stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the ground toward them.
"They took that dark flame," Darkar continued, his voice dripping with malice. "They molded it, breathed life into it inside a baby boy... your and Daphne's older brother. Prince Valtor."
Bloom froze, the fire on her hands wavering as the truth hung heavy in the air.
Van drew his sword with a sharp metallic ring, stepping between Bloom and Darkar, while Spyro crouched low, a wave of purple flame swelling in his chest. The prophecy had already begun its turn, and the shadow over Soma was ready to swallow everything whole.
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