TLoS One-Shot: Inverted

“High Enlightener, we have discovered where the Guardians have hidden the new purple dragon. He stays with the Chronicler, deep within the White Isle. The Evil’s forces are on their way.”

“Good job, Disciple of Bright. Take your pack of Rethinkers to the White Isle. Bring the purple dragon to me. His talents would be… spoiled if the Chronicler were to teach him too much,” the dragoness growled lightly. Her paw tightened into a ball, white flames coalescing into an orb above her head.

“As you request, High Enlightener.” The white-furred dragon bowed and made haste to exit the dark room, lest he be made the target of the Enlightener’s mad desires.  

“Oh, and Disciple?” the dragoness called out to the retreating figure, who stopped and turned at her voice.

The dragoness didn’t look directly at him, preferring the view soft glow of the white flaming orb, but the Disciple could feel her reaching out, touching his mind. A shudder ran down his spine, and the furred dragon gulped as the Enlightener’s eyes suddenly snapped to his own, glowing a furious blue.

“Yes, Enlightener?” his voice quavered.

“Spare the young dragon, but kill everyone else. The Evil, The Colored… if they are not part of The Good, they must be silenced,” the dragoness hissed, her Mark beginning to glow the same blue as her eyes.

“I understand, High Enlightener Cynder.” The furred dragon turned and bolted out of the room, armor clinking the whole way out. A few loose feathers floated gently to the metal floor of the hall, only to be burnt to ash and then to nothingness.

A good way to keep the Citadel clean of detritus and useless Enlightened.

Cynder chuckled as her eyes and Mark lost their glow. It was too fun messing with her Disciples, their still-virgin minds not fully Enlightened to her power or role. They were merely the tools for the Good, pawns for the larger game; Cynder was the toolmaker.

The tool master, however…

The white-scaled dragoness snarled as she felt a hot, intense pressure within her mind. Roiling and pushing and tugging and burning all at once. It tore at the edges of her skull, pushing its way through her Mark and out into the dry air above her throne. She gasped, the pushing sensation on her mind falling as she stood.

Oh, how she wanted to roar and rage and destroy the floating figure of a dragon, to blast him with gray fire and wind and fear and every element at her disposal. But to do that would kill her, and she was in no mood to die today. Not with the capture of Spyro so close at hand.

A false smile graced her muzzle as she regarded the small God with all the indifference she could muster. The High Disciples that were her guards straightened their posture as the soulless eyes of the gray God swept over them.

Cynder spoke first.

“I promise you, Great Enlightened: this world will be cleansed. With the power of the purple dragon at my side, all shall bow before The Good.”

“Do not forget your place, Cynder…” a voiced droned within her mind. Elemental magic filled the air, gray and dull and without emotion. It burned her soul, drowning her lungs in fire and ice and pain.

The diamond-shaped Mark on her forehead pulsed painfully, turning the same slate-gray color as the God.

Her thoughts became muddled and blurry, all flying and crying and tearing apart and blood flooding the plains and the sky turning blue and the laughter of uncaring Gods and Ancestors that abandoned their children and pain and suffering death death death-

“I will not fail.” The proclamation flowed from her mouth, sounding so confident and firm and willing. Her mind, however, was another story. It was crumbling, just like how all these talks went.

The weight on her mind doubled as the God cocked its head, scrutinizing her with renewed interest.

“That remains to be seen. Your last few skirmishes with Malefor’s armies did not go in your favor, nor did your assault on the Guardian’s Temple or against Gaul’s mountain fortress.”

“I do not intend to lose anymore. The White Isle will be ours soon. The Chronicler is the last connection between the Colored and the Ancestors,” she spat their name, “and with them gone the Colored will fall shortly after. Only The Evil will remain, and not even Dark Aether will protect them from our assault!”

She didn’t entirely believe the words, but her voice made them sound believable. The

“Very well. You may proceed with our blessing. I expect good results within the coming months, Cynder. The Great Cleansing must begin soon, before the Dark Master decides to go all-in.

“As you will, Enlightened One,” she spoke through gritted fangs, the vision in her eyes starting to fade. Blackness creeped in from all sides.

“May the Good reveal unto you the path of power,” boomed the God with its natural voice, echoing throughout the Hall.

“And may the Cleansing white waters remove your sin,” followed the Cynder and her Guards.

In a flash of light, white and dark and gray and everything in between, the figure disappeared, and sweet relief flooded Cynder’s mind. The dragoness panted from the mental exertion. Her head drooped, black horns scraping against the headrest of the throne. The sound grated against her ears, but it was nothing compared to the screeching storm in her head.

Cynder hated it all. She hated being this way – unable to control her emotions, her thoughts, her elements…

And yet, she loved it just as much. She needed the Good and all its ideals. It gave her purpose, gave her strength, things she would never have if she were a natural-batched.

Cleansings were not supposed to be performed on eggs. The potential damage to the unhatched mind was catastrophic and could permanently change the dragonling.

But for a dark dragon like her, it was necessary. The horrors she could inflict while under the influence of The Evil, or even worse, The Colored…

She shuddered to think about that. Being killed by Malefor would be a mercy compared to living under the Guardians and the Un-Enlightened dragons of the Realms.

It was for The Good, she told herself as she slunk away to her private quarters. More guards lined the hallways, dragons and apes and anthros standing with weapons straight. All White and Red and Black, both Light and Dark. All Good.

She flopped onto her bed, watching the two moons of this world chase each other across the night sky. The sounds of working Acolytes, dragons and anthros captured or taken by the Good from the warring Realms, filled the air as her eyelids drooped shut.

She wasn’t meant to be this way. She felt violated, used, corrupted. Her existence wasn’t natural, but sinful and wrong. No dragon should be born dark, but her parents were Evil and then the Good came and took her egg away and Cleansed her and helped her and-

A sob escaped her throat. Crystal tears flowed down the black trails beneath her eyes as shame ran through her body. She was a freak of nature. A being that existed in two worlds but could only function in one. A dragon that had been born wrong and needed to be fixed.

She was Inverted.