Four dragons stared into a shimmering pool, once vibrant azure but now tainted with green.  A swirling shudder of amethyst rippled through the water, before turning a deep rancid black.
	"Are we sure there is no other way?" asked a red drake.
	"We've seen every possibility," an emerald wing wrapped round his back, "it has to be done.  Spyro knows that and he agreed before he left, should it come to that."
	"I know I...just...DAMN THIS!"
His crimson fist slammed into the ground shaking the waters.
	"Why must this happen again?  Why can't his kind ever live in peace?"
	"He shan't be blamed for the curse," snarled a blue dragon, "but as a hero he will stand firm and be the martyr."
	"Without impunity!" added a yellow beast.  "His honourable traits shall echo for time immemorial!"
	"FOR WHAT?!" cried the red dragon.  "To ease our sins, to unburden ourselves with the sin of a sacrificial rite?!"
	"Ignitus."  The one in green lowered his gaze.  "We know you care deeply for him.  Do you not think we loved him so?"
	"You of all know I was a protector," the gold drake clasped his chest, "was it not I who by my preliminary warning, by my requisite siren call, had you rescue his egg?"
	"Yes," Ignitus sighed, "yes I...I know you are right.  All I can do is hope that...the darkness is too weak in him to take hold."
	"But if it is not," the dragon in sapphire fumed deep, "it is our duty, to keep the world safe from another Malefor."

In the aftermath of Malefor's end, the world had slowly come to repair itself.  The skies were brighter, the air was cleaner, and the grass would slowly sprout once again.  The elders had returned, and the rebuilding of settlements had begun.  But something was amiss, something everyone in the lands had noted.  The heroes were missing, far in the mountains at the edge of the world.
A small castle had been left behind, an outpost for Malefor's minions that remained surprisingly comfortable.  Despite its frosty turrets and frigid stone walls, there were fires aplenty in sconces and hearths within every room.  In this long-abandoned tower, two dragons slept in the same bed, a four-poster sort with velvet sheets.
Cynder had never known peace like this.  To be beside a warm body, never knowing the fear of darkness creeping into her heart, her mind, her very soul ever again.  This wondrous stranger, this unusual dragon she now spooned with in their bed, she could now never imagine a life without him.  Her breath tickled his cheek, her legs wrapped round his front as she dreamed of dancing in the clouds with him.
Spyro also shared that dream, a twitch of a smile across his purple snout as he pushed back against his lover.  Her black body was like a wisp of smoke coiling in the air, as they spun through the evening sky where soft pink clouds flossed their wings.  His glorious amber wings stretched across the sun, the two embracing claws as they spiralled up into the night.
The dark dragoness with her rich belly of wine-red, looked like a crystal figure in the growing light of the moon rising above the peaks.  But then something changed.  The moon started to crack, and so did Spyro's scales.  His body twisted its muscles out to something larger, more vicious with stretching jaws and monstrous wings.
Cynder turned pale with growing fear as she screamed, her soft teal eyes reflected the face of her lover.  An old, familiar face of a wicked beast, slathering tongue and burning eyes of crimson before a giant claw wrapped round her throat.  Streams of red painted the sky, and the world fell apart once again where mountains were set alight, rivers became oil, and forests would melt under a vile cackling flame.
	"Spyro?"
His eyes opened at the voice of his love, a cold shiver through his spine awakening her as she lifted her head.
	"Are you alright?"
	"I...y-yes," he nodded stiff, "just a bad dream."
	"Oh, a pity."  Cynder licked him.  "Shall we have some breakfast?"
They rolled out of bed and walked to the kitchen, padding on all fours through the quiet halls of crackling flame.  Alone in the chateau, they made their own meals with the supplies left behind by soldiers, baking apples and chunks of meat with additional herbs and spices.
At a long table they sat, eating together on opposite sides as the purple dragon had a noticeably dire look.  His golden horns seemed paler than usual, as well as his fiery belly.  His eyes of shining amethyst had lost their glint in the past six months since the end of their journey.  A sluggish gait in the hero's steps, a certain pallour in his scales and a slight rasp in his voice.
	"Snowstorm is next week," said the dragoness, "we should stock up, take a flight out."
	"Mm," he nodded, "Avalar should have stuff for us."
	"Do you plan on returning back to-"
	"No."
The look on his face betrayed his guilt, as she put aside her plate and leaned forwards.
	"What's wrong?"
	"Nothing, it, it's fine-"
	"No.  Tell me."  She glared with concern.  "You've been restless in our sleep, you look so tired, and you're eating less."
	"I...I don't know," Spyro shook his head, "I'm just having bad dreams."
	"For more than a month?"
	"YES!"  He gasped clutching his chest.  "I...I don't know Cynder, I'm sorry, I thought they would go away-"
	"It's okay."  She reached out a paw to stroke his face.  "Are you sick?  You look it."
	"I...I think I am.  I don't feel well."
	"Is it the mountain air?  is it too damp?"
	"No, it...it's something I...feel inside me."  He coughed with a sudder that made her pull back.  "It's been there for...a few weeks."
	"Spyro, you...you idiot," she shook her head, "why did you not tell me, we could have seen a doctor!"
	"I-i...I was hoping it would leave," the hero shivered, "but I don't think it is, I didn't want to worry you."
	"Too late."  Cynder patted him.  "Do you know anyone who can help?"
	"Yes."  Spyro stood up from the table.  "I think, Ignitus told me once about a sickness that gave bad dreams, but I don't want anyone seeing us."
	"I understand."  She walked round to nuzzle him.  "Let's go now, before the snowstorm gets here."

Taking flight across the great lands, the heroes hid themselves amongst clouds and rainstorms from the public who still wished to seek them.  For want of a peaceful life they had isolated themselves, and for a time it was good.  But Spyro had another reason, something he hoped would never come until his dreams had signalled the change.  He knew exactly what the illness was, something he hoped that Cynder would never know.
Through barren deserts and lush rainforests, they soon came upon the swamp where the ancestral Dragon Temple laid.  A strange bulbous domain shaped to resemble the giant mushrooms circling around it, it was camouflaged well from the air in past times.  But in the war against Malefor, reparations had to be made, and slowly but surely the sculpted roofs were being refashioned.
Fluttering down into a back entrance, nestled beneath the roots of fungi, Spyro descended into a tunnel with Cynder following behind.  Her body became restless, her wings flapping stiff as she followed her love into the sacred halls of their kind.
Spyro shivered with a warmth in his heart, the scents of musty stone and other dragons bringing a smile of long relief.  At the end of the passage was a solid wall, the hero pushing against it with both front paws until it swung open.  They stepped into a library, a large circular place with bronze stone shelves filled with tomes of ancient lore.
	"I can't believe it," he gasped, "it...it still looks the same as ever."
	"It's beautiful," Cynder whispered, "I haven't been in here since...well, before everything, there must be every book in the world here."
	"Only half of everything."  The purple drake looked back.  "That's what Ignitus would say."
	"Should I...should I stay or-"
	"Would you leave if I asked you to?"
They both knew the answer as she smiled, stroking along his tail with hers as they searched around the books and wove between tables.  Some old volumes Spyro would recognise, brushing the spines with his claws and briefly reciting passages, until he had walked round the length of the room in a gentle spiral.
	"OH, look at this!" Cynder walked over to a desk.  "Advances In Floral Metaphysics!  I used to have this book back...before."
	"Really?" Spyro trotted over.  "What's it about?"
	"Oh, it's about demonstrating the inherent nature of the soul through experiments with flowers!  It used to be considered nonsense until Demris the Bellringer discovered a fascinating change in his garden!"
	"What kind of change?"
	"Oh it's...boring," she scoffed waving her paw, "you don't want to hear-"
	"I do."  He sat down beside her.  "Tell me, let's wait until Ignitus comes."
	"Alright...well, normally flowers only gain petal varieties by cross-pollination yes?  Demris discovered that certain generations of the same crop, grew stronger petals or a heightened aura in the right conditions of adversity."
	"They became hardier?"
	"Yes," Cynder nodded, "he put certain flowers in harsher conditions, kept them fed and nourished and their auras changed between environments.  It became the basis for understanding metaphysics at a laydrake's level."
	"We didn't learn them before?"
	"Not as vastly."  A deep voice rumbled through the air.  "Demris expanded the study to such a level it became the most solid foundation."
	"I-...Ignitus."
Standing before them was a large red dragon, more than twice their size and height.  With a body of magma scales and strong amber wings, Ignitus looked the picture of a classical dragon.  His horns were pale, and a stub of scales hung down his chin like a goatee to match the violet flames of cresting fins down his back and tail.
Spyro wanted to hug him, more than anything in the world he wanted to embrace him there and then.  But he couldn't, knowing it would be the worst torture for either of them.
	"Hello Spyro...Cynder.  It's wonderful to see you both again."
The dragoness bowed to him as Ignitus bowed in turn, stepping closer with a forced grin.
	"I'm sorry we've been away," she began, "we...we wanted to let the world heal without us, take some time for ourselves-"
	"It is fine," the elder raised his paw, "I'm so happy to see you well, both of you, truly.  Have you come out of your...self-admitted hibernation to join the world again?"
	"Somewhat," Cynder shook her head, "Spyro has been having dreams, terrible ones that kept him awake the past month.  We were hoping you could help."
	"Well I am glad to see you both again, but you know you can visit me for more than just remedies."
	"I, I know," Spyro rubbed his paws, "sorry Ignitus, it was just, after Malefor was destroyed I just...I was so exhausted-"
	"I understand," the guardian sat at the table with them, "Would you like something to eat?  The other guardians have missed you dearly."
	"Alright, hah, does Volteer still choke on every fifth portion?"
	"Like clockwork, hmhmhah, good thing we have long necks."
He offered his claw to have the two follow him, heading through the temple towards the kitchen and preparing a small meal of cutlets.  Before that he gave them a guest room, a quiet place with beds where refugees had lived during the war.
Scarred floors and bits of paper told fragments of their lives, a sombre reminder of Malefor's cruelty that discomforted them.  But the beds were incredibly soft, and allowed them a good rest before they had dinner, sitting up at the library table with their plates.
	"I didn't know you cooked," said Cynder.
	"I had time in recent years," said Ignitus, "with my fire it seemed sensible, how is it?"
	"Good!" Spyro chomped down a steak.  "Mmmmhhh, really good, you should be a chef!"
	"Hahaha, you know Terrador said the same thing, something about my correct balance of spices.  A balanced meal makes-"
	"A balanced soldier, in mind and strength."
The two males laughed mimicking each other, Cynder smiling with relief at her lover's joy as the conversation flowed to updates on the world and the recovery period.  Avalar was improving fastest, and Warfang was sending plenty of materials to help in a steadily-growing alliance for futurescape.
The guardian spoke little about the praise Cynder and Spyro were receiving, mostly out of respect to their humility.  The dragoness shared embarrassing stories of their travels together, mostly around the time they had been tethered together and forced to navigate devious puzzles.  Tears of laughter grew, Ignitus cackling a little too hard as they finished their dinner.
	"I did NOT do that!" cried Spyro.
	"You did!" mocked Cynder.  "Your behind was painted green for a week!"
	"How would you know?  Staring at it all that time?"
	"N-NO?!" she blushed suddenly.  "It wasn't hard to miss, it was bright as a fungus!"
	"Hhhahaha, ohhh how I missed you," Ignitus chuckled wiping a tear, "aaah...well, now that we've rested our humours, shall I help you with this ailment?"
	"Yes," the hero nodded, "if that's alright."
	"By all means my boy, let's have you sorted.  Cynder, would it be alright if I spoke to Spyro alone?  Patient confidentiality."
	"Well, of course," the dragoness scratched her cheek, "make sure you bring him back in one piece, haha!"
	"Hmhmhm, I am glad to see your spirits rejuvenated, my dear."
Taking the young drake with him, his smile faded to a haunted look as soon as they left the room.  Spyro's face would mirror his as they gave a dreadsome look to each other, heading to the guardian's personal room where they would not be disturbed.
It had felt like an eternity since Spyro had seen his mentor's quarters, a shelf of his favourite books next to the grand bed, a woven flameproof carpet and a small desk with writing tools.  His small golden wings flapped with unease, but Ignitus could hear the struggle in them, a soft creak that only elders should have.
	"Is it time?" the young hero asked.
	"I'm afraid so," Ignitus sighed, "I had hoped Malefor's curse would fade on its own but...as the new Chronicler, I have seen there is no escape for your kin."
	"Because I'm purple?" he looked at his own claws.  "It just...it just seems unfair."
	"I know you never asked for this."  The red dragon bent down to kiss his head.  "As one who shares the same blood as him, his vile power infected you the moment he would pass, offering the mantle of destruction over to you.  The ritual will consist of us each taking a vital organ, as we...violate your body, sever our bonds of love from you in order to best cleanse all traces of Malefor's rank."
	"I remember," Spyro nodded, "but...what do you mean sever the bonds?"
	"The ritual will not be kind to you.  In turn the Guardians must make you suffer, both in mind and body by closing our hearts, and destroying you through spite, and treating you as if you were Malefor himself."
	"You...you knew this was going to happen...didn't you?"
	"...I'm so sorry."
Ignitus pulled him close with a sudden embrace.  Spyro finally broke, pressing his face into his mentor's chest, a deep shudder through the guardian as he welled up with his own tears.
	"I would have given you my flesh to be your own," he whispered, "if it meant averting your fate, little Spyro."
	"You did everything you could," the boy whimpered, "I know you did.  I missed you, Ignitus."
	"...I missed you too...my dearest boy."
The young hero raised his head, and watched his teacher bend down to kiss him again.  Their kiss would turn deeper as their lips met, the taste of that warm flaming tongue tickling across Spyro's own as they closed their eyes and savoured that fragile moment.  Their breaths clouded their tongues and trembled down the other's throat with a heated passion, something beyond a simple love, past that of student and mentor.  It was the greatest agony, and they both cursed themselves for failing to resist.
Yet they never questioned it, as Spyro felt Ignitus delve deeper into his maw and lick across his palate. His deep trembling moans made his young ribs vibrate, his heart quivering with a heat he hadn't felt in years, not even with Cynder.
His guardian pulled him up onto the bed, and laid Spyro on his back, kissing him deeper with his body looming over.  The elder savoured the view, trying to ignore the corrosive curse as he sighed at the youthful drake, his bronze belly with a pair of sweet golden orbs beneath a gently-flowering slit.
	"Please," Spyro whimpered, "p-please...just before I have to go."
	"I could not resist even if you hadn't asked," whispered Ignitus, "my life will be far emptier without you."
	"Then fill me...please.  I need you inside me, j-just once."
The elder grinned with tears down his cheek, feeling his slit open up to produce a long thickening shaft of ruby glint, matching his pair of scarlet balls that hung underneath.  Slick with arousal, he watched the boy's face light up in exhausted joy, the rising length pressing between his legs.  Spyro's own meat started to push free from his slit, only half the size of his master as the two frotted carefully to feel the other's heartbeat.
Mounting the bed, Ignitus slid his spear across his student's belly, letting him feel the raw heat of that pulsing scarlet shaft until it booped his snout.  The purple drake suckled gladly, moaning with bliss at the familiar taste.  His mentor shuddered in relief, forgetting all his duties that would come, and letting this be a memory of the good old days.
	"Hohhh...ohhh Spyro...that's a good boy."
His soft whimpers made him pre, so pent-up with desire and a love forlorn as he pushed deeper into the hero's throat.  Spyro swallowed gratefully, sucking harder and thicker with his tongue grinding underneath the ridges to savour each bit.  They didn't have long, the young dragon trying to squeeze every inch and suck the taste of his mentor free, his four paws wrapping around the burning pillar to hug it tight against his body.
One long thrust from Ignitus would gently suffocate him, a tender cough tickling his throat to let it linger for a moment and feel the strength of Ignitus.  His lips wrapped round the base, a bulbous knot that flared the slit and filled his nostrils with a powerful scent, a fatherly musk that made Spyro whimper even harder.
The elder pulled back with a trembling sigh, popping the cock free with a gentle drip of pre on Spyro's snout, sliding the stream of white down the youth's belly before pressing between the back legs.  The younger's shaft was peaking to its fullness, his own bulging knot aquiver as it pushed his slit wider with a drip of his youthful needs.
	"P-please, aaah, p-please, master, I need-"
	"Hush," Ignitus put a claw on the boy's lips, "it's alright...I am here.  I will always be here for you, my sweet Spyro."
He gazed upon the hero's rump, that soft sweet pucker panting for his flesh as Ignitus pushed inside.  The hole would part gladly, a terrible sob of glee from Spyro when he felt that luscious heat delve inside him.  His back legs would spread wider, begging with each breath as Ignitus pushed deeper, his balls swinging against the bed.
	"HAAAH!  Ohhh, S-spyro, ohhh I've missed your body."
	"NNNGH, a-aaah!  Igni, I-ignit-AH!  Ignitus, please, breed me!"
	"I shall, my boy," the mentor leaned down to kiss, "Let us make your return a celebration, for us...only."
Their lips would meet again in a gasping heat, moaning as the guardian thrust deeper inside to the young purple rear that took him well.  It felt like the beginning of his adventures, before the darkness, the festering sin that tore pieces of his soul like bark from a rotting tree.  Back when there was only excitement and mystery, the revelation of other dragons and the joy of discovering his roots, he found solace in his mentor's embrace.
Ignitus loved him too, a boy that would be his second chance, a hero to amend his failures and to treat him with the love and devotion he deserved.  Every inch was another heartbeat, the master rocking his hips to savour the young walls.  He didn't dare open his eyes as they kissed, wanting to remember Spyro as the bright-eyed spirited youth in the midst of their coitus.
As the elder's tongue danced within the hero's lips, he thrust himself halfway in until he reached Spyro's limit, plumpening spurts of pre drizzling into the student's walls and drenching him with love.  Spyro nursed on the tongue of Ignitus, helpless little moans that made the master feel the urge of fatherhood, a yearning for the one he saw closest to a family.
	"Haaah...m-my son," he gasped without thinking, "ohhh my beautiful boy, how I've missed you!"
	"AAAH, I, I-I MISSED YOU TOO, IGNITUS, I'M SORRY!"
	"No no, no," the elder hushed with another kiss, "no tears, not...not yet.  It's just us here...only us."
	"Thank, t-thank you...I love you master."
They opened their eyes briefly to gaze upon each other.  The mentor tried not to shudder at his student's weakened face, the glazed eyes and the gentle flake of his scales that was subtle yet frightening, like the first leaf of autumn.  The red dragon bucked into his pupil, hungering with desire as his tongue dripped into Spyro's maw, pumping faster to make this the quickest eternity as the sound of his orbs slapped thick against the bed.
Both of them started to peak, adrenaline surging through their loins as the hero spurted first, a thickening drip of white that sprayed his belly with every grinding flex of the pulsing spear against his prostate.  The young purple drake felt his lips start to flow with saliva, both his and Ignitus' flowing down his cheeks as their tongues wrestled with frantic lust.
The bed shook with his mentor's strength, groans of mating lust in sync with every slap of his large crimson hips, a bulge slightly forming in Spyro's belly.  As the hero came fully with a hot squirt onto his face, the master swallowed his own roar with a snarling bliss, pumping thick gluttonous love into his disciple.
	"HAAAH, N-NNNNGH, OHH!  S-spyro, ohhh I wished you'd never left!"
The former hero could barely speak, stuffed to the brim with his master's seed that thickened his gut with a gentle quiver.  His own smaller shaft kept sputtering, painting his amber scales as his rear began trickling with semen.  His mentor dripped his tongue over his cheek, and in their post-orgasmic bliss, reality came crushing down upon their hearts.
	"Thank you," gasped Spyro, "I...I wish this could last forever."
	"I...I hope this does not feel unbecoming," murmured Ignitus, "I know you are with Cynder an-"
	"It...it's fine," the student grinned, "you were my first...you always will be and...I'm honoured you'll be my last."
The guardian pulled out with a trembling gasp, his cock slathering across the carpet with lines of drool as he clutched his face.  A desperate heave to pull back his tears as Spyro rolled onto his front, the cum still dripping from his rear.
	"Does Cynder know of the ritual?" asked his teacher.
	"No," his student replied, "I know she'd never let it happen, she'd hate all of you, hate even me, thinking I let her fall in love with me knowing I'd doom her to a life alone."
	"She cannot stop it."  Ignitus shook his head.  "I cannot stop it either, but at the very least...we shall save her the heartbreak.  What if we told her the story of an illness, something she cannot fight directly, or blame us for."
	"Isn't that...a little underclawed?"
	"Would you rather she fill her heart with hatred again?  It will be bad enough with the four of us Guardians doing that to you, let's not make her suffer more."
	"I...I understand," a tear came down Spyro's cheek as he nodded, "I know you'd never hate me so...whatever happens I...I know."
	"Thank you."  His master kissed him again.  "Come, let us make our plan."

Over the course of the next three months, they slowly built up a narrative of some unfamiliar illness, knowing that his curse would take a year to fully culminate.  In that time, Spyro's condition would deteriorate, his eyes turning glassy and his scales peeling.  It was a cancerous thing, a corruption of the soul, but Cynder never knew this.
For that first month the elders kept Spyro hidden from Cynder, hiding behind screens and receiving tests with imaginary doctors coming to see him, odd wounds forming every time she had a chance to see him.  Each day they met, Spyro looked worse and worse, more haggard and weak with a softening voice.
At the end of that first month, Cynder was brought into Spyro's room, the hero in a single bed with clean sheets.  His scales had turned so much paler, a stark wilting violet with eyes starting to crack into red rippling shots.
	"Ahh, Ms. Cynder, please come in."
Standing beside him was Volteer, an electric yellow dragon with an erudite look and brighter-zap markings dotting down his scales.  Holes filtered his lemon-coloured wings, and his belly was grey like shale, like the fins down his back.
	"How is he?" she gasped.  "Oh you look even worse, what is this?!"
	"That is what I'm here to elucidate...I thought it best when you are in proximity of each other for a compatible emotional reciprocation."
The guardian cleared his throat and memorised the speech he had recited in his head seventy times.
	"Spyro's body is deteriorating, this particular disease is atrophying every part of him.  It is also causing a vociferous feedback loop into his medulla oblongata, creating the malodorous oneirological bitterness that he has been exhibiting."
	"I...I don't understand," Cynder shook her head, "he's...he's not, what I think you're saying is he?"
	"He is debilitating," Volteer nodded, "a most fatal malady known as Distoria Odiousum, a horribly rarefied affliction that is, tragically understudied and-"
	"N-no!" she grabbed for the bed.  "No, no that, you're not telling me he's dying?!"
	"That is..." the guardian nodded stiffening his face, "my most grievous commisserations, to both of you."
	"But...how?" Spyro coughed shedding scales off his cheek.  "How'd this happen?"
	"I wish I could elaborate...whilst we have tried our best to investigate a solution, there is such miniscule documentation that-"
	"NO!"  Cynder slammed her feet on the floor.  "You can't, you can't let him, he's...h-he's done so much for all of us, YOU CAN'T LET HIM DIE!"
	"Again, my commisserations-"
	"I DON'T WANT YOUR COMMISSERATION, I WANT YOU TO HEAL HIM!"
	"Cynder!" the hero wheezed from his bed.  "Please...don't be mad at him...the guardians are helping me."
	"It's not enough if they don't know the cure," she snapped with burning eyes, "they know the name of this disease but not its cure, I thought they knew everything!"
	"H-half, of everything," he smiled with crackling lips, "I'm sure they can find something, just...just hope the best, Cynder."
	"...fine."  The black dragoness pulled back with stinging tears.  "You...you better find a cure.  I can't live alone.  I can't, I-i can't-"
	"We shall do everything in our power," Volteer bowed, "I shall enlighten you on his condition over the duration of his treatment."
But of course they both knew.  It was a cruel lie, but one that was far more merciful than the truth as Cynder took her leave and Volteer looked to his patient.  A steady drip of details were given to her, slowly but surely severing her away from Spyro with more and more defeating words.
The next two months would pass, and Spyro became a ghost in her memory, his paling form and his gasping voice disappearing with each night they parted.  He would offer his own words encouraging her to move on, to sprout her wings and be her own dragoness, but of course she was too proud.  She would rant, she would scream, she would sob at his bed until the sheets became damp.
Always her lover would smile, that same infuriating look of serenity a hero would have.  He was screaming on the inside wanting to tell her the truth, but all he could do was heave a great sigh.  On his final day, Spyro would see her one last time.  His body was going pink, his eyes bloodshot and his voice turning raspy.  Her eyes were red rings, and her belly looked a little thinner as Volteer met her again.
	"Hello Ms. Cynder," he bowed, "I was just easing him...I shall leave you two be."
	"Is it...time?" she gasped.
	"This will be his last week.  I would advise this the most certain point of conference before his departure, for the efficacy of this disease afterwards will be...not good."
The yellow dragon left, as Cynder sat beside her love.  She nuzzled his head, feeling the scales shed like a bridal gown before she pulled back with a shudder.
	"Sorry," he gasped, "I look like a mess, don't I?"
	"No you...you just look...scruffy."  She choked back a brittle sob.  "I...I wanted to come and speak to you about silly things, like what Hunter's been doing, or some moles doing a funny dance but-"
	"Tell me anything you want.  I'll listen."
	"No.  I can't."  The black dragoness shook her head.  "I know you...you want me to move on, but...h-how can I?  How can I, when...all you've done, all you were, and you're reduced to a husk because of some DAMN DISEASE?!"
	"I know it's hard," Spyro whispered, "but it's fine.  The world is safe-"
	"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE WORLD!" she put her front paws on his bed.  "I care about YOU,  why do you accept this?!  Where is your fire, where's your courage, why aren't you screaming with me?!"
	"It hurts to.  It's...there's no cure-"
	"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!  Why don't you cry, why do you refuse to be upset, when you are about to lose EVERYTHING?!"
	"Because I already have."  Spyro wheezed a frigid cough.  "Don't...don't make my last day be one in anger.  We saved the world Cynder...that's all I wanted."
	"I thought you wanted to be with me," she whimpered nuzzling him, "I thought we could live together, I thought we could be free."
	"You are free."  He kissed her cheek.  "You don't have to be chained down to anyone, you can be anything, you can still give good to the world, for those trying to help me pass away peacefully-"
	"It...i-it's not fair.  It's not...FAIR!"
She shoved her head into the sheets, her last tears bubbling up in grief as the hero stroked her neck.  She stayed for him the entire day, finding her peace through the storm of outrage until it was time to say goodbye.  They shared one final kiss, longing for each other, tongues twisting together like a maypole of bliss, before she would finally leave him, and let him die in peace.

It was two days after Cynder departed, that Spyro's true death would come.  In the depths of the temple, the pale hero walked into the sanctum and saw the four Guardians awaiting him, circled around the Pool of Visions.  Ignitus and Volteer stood, with Terrador and Cyril, representing Earth and Ice respectively.  The jade dragon had the physique of a commander, thick muscular haunches with taut pockmarked wings, reddish-brown goatee, and a thick clubbed tail like a morning star.
His partner was somewhat thinner than the others, his whitish-blue body brimming with shards, sharp indigo wings resembling the Northern Lights stretched behind him.  The last time Spyro had seen Cyril, he had an insufferable smugness only the haute couture could muster.  But now he looked serious, severe, and that frightened him even more.
	"I...I'm ready," the young drake gasped, "I'm sorry...I...I tried to fight him-"
	"Silence."
His mentor suddenly struck him.  It was the hardest blow he ever felt in his life, making his heart twitch in shock.
	"You do not speak out of place," snarled Ignitus, "we are not your equals, and this shall be your tomb."
He grabbed Spyro's head and pulled him roughly towards the pool.  In the light of its bluish-green tint, he looked as if he had aged a thousand years.  Half of his scales had peeled off to reveal the reddish skin underneath, the wilting violet turned to a rose crystal.  His eyes were fully bloodshot, his wings drooped off his shoulders, and his throat had turned to a desert.
	"You have disgraced the entire dragon species," proclaimed Terrador, "almost doomed us to extinction...there is no punishment enough for you but...we have to start someplace."
His large green paw slapped the youth, rolling him onto his back as Cyril and Volteer each pinned one of his wings.  Their claws twisted through the membrane, tearing the sensitive skin as Spyro gasped with panting moans before Terrador stomped his belly.
He crushed the hero's stomach harder, stomping thicker until a dark bruise would form, the wings tearing away with each shuddering crack.  The young drake started to vomit, spurting blood between his teeth as his stomach blackened with retching coughs.
	"Properly tenderised," said Cyril with a cruel grin, "try not to stain your paws with that poison filth he calls blood."
	"Indeed," Terrador gave one last crunch to make Spyro heave, "now, crawl over here and clean me."
The great green dragon sat back on his haunches, showing a thick slit that would flower open to reveal a monstrous long thick shaft above a pair of magnificent jade orbs.  Thicker than Ignitus, it terrified the boy as he was kicked onto his belly with his wings pinned down again, the paws pulling harder until the ligaments would tear.
Panting screams filled his throat with a terrible rasp, the guardians tightening their faces to not betray their emotions.  Spyro gazed upon Terrador's shaft, suckling the balls before dragging his tongue upwards along the length.  His musk was powerful, full of incomparable strength and a terrible anger that seethed from each of them.
As he craned his neck to keep licking the cock, it started to pre on his head and trickle down his crested fins with a growing submissive lust.  Part of it was knowing his place, but another part was a more instinctive urge that their masculine scents fulfilled.
	"M-masters," he whispered mid-lick, "masters please, p-please let me please you...before I-."
	"STOP talking."
A savage paw cracked the back of his head, Terrador's claws stroking along the youthful horns before grabbing both and wrenching Spyro upwards.  He stared upon the thick glistening meat, the head slowering with blunted spikes as the elder shoved him down.
Spyro choked with a gargling scream, his eyes watering from the ragged scrape of his throat as Terrador fucked his skull.  Coughing gasps filled their ears as the guardian panted from the tightness, the young dragon's wings still being pulled so hard that they snapped under Cyril and Volteer's claws.  The boy screamed with anguished sobs, his coughing turned sharper to tighten on the fat meat that turned his neck into a cocksleeve
All the guardians watched with a slight grimace, but the red dragon struggled most to hide it.  His face twitched with a hidden rage, wanting to fight Terrador off his beloved pupil, but swallowing back his love and bringing as much hatred as he could to the forefront.  This wasn't Spyro anymore, the whimpering hero with two jagged lumps of bone where his wings had once been.
This was Malefor's descendant, a vile reprehensible seed of evil that deserved to suffer, to be ruined beyond repair, erased and forgotten from existence.  All his love and want for Spyro he had given months before in his bedroom, as Ignitus forced himself to watch the rape of this foul creature wearing his student's flesh.
	"Such good handles these make," whispered Terrador, "a shame only true dragons deserve to have them."
He twisted his hands round the horns even tighter, slowly bending them outwards as a shuddering rang through the skull.  Spyro felt his eyes bulge with an intense pressure, a horrifying feel of the elder trying to rip his head in half as he kept bobbing on the luscious meat.  It tasted wonderful despite the pain, the rich musk suffocating his lungs as hard as the meat did when the guardian impaled him halfway.
He only stopped when he bottomed out in the youth's throat, feeling the bottom of his neck convulse in desperate gasps and heaving moans.  Spyro's eyes rolled upwards, his cheeks turning blue as Terrador twisted the horns harder.  A terrible creak rang through his head, his cracked lips drooling with suffocating spit down the beastly length until it slathered off the emerald testes.
Then came the snap, a violent twist when the horns cracked off completely.  Spyro vented his lungs in one single screech, a howling sob stifled by the cock in his gullet before Terrador shoved him back.  Whimpering in fearful arousal, his own small member now throbbing at its peak, the young hero clutched his skull wracked in agony.
	"Get him ready," the earth dragon tossed the horns to Cyril and Volteer, "his former mentor shall take him."
	"Agreed," said the electric drake, "tis appropriate that a malingering reprobate should taste an esquisse of his suffering, through the physicality of-"
	"ENOUGH!"  Cyril punched the weeping Spyro.  "The sooner we end this degenerate, the sooner our world is purified of his sin."
	"Yes...quite."
Trembling on the ground like a baby bird next to his own broken wings, Spyro clutched his bloodied snout that formed a puddle underneath, next to the pre spittling out of his meagre cock.  Both Cyril and Volteer grabbed a back leg each, the ice dragon shoving one of Spyro's horns ruthlessly into his rear.  Thanks to Ignitus, this part was the easiest, but no less painful from the stabbing thrust of his own severed horn.
His walls were scraped and carved into as blood trickled out of his rump, flinching in fright from the horn's natural corkscrew that made things worse in flensing pieces of his muscle.  Yet the overwhelming scent of superior dragons made him so hard, he kept spurting at full erect when his prostate was scratched.  And still the dragon kept licking Terrador's shaft still throbbing above his head.
	"Hah, the whore's actually enjoying this," said Cyril.
	"Remarkable," Volteer chuckled, "I was going to sodomise that little slit of his but...this will be better."
Taking his horn, the electric dragon grabbed Spyro's hardened length and squeezed at the knotted base, getting it stiff as he could.  Teasing the young drake with the horntip at his urethra, Volteer made a rictus grin as he began to push it down Spyro's penis.  His shriek was heartbreaking and Ignitus had to step back, tightening his chest to resist his pupil's plight.
	"HA-AAAARGH, AAAAAAAARGH!  M-MASTERS, PLEAAAASE!  H-HURT ME, M-MAKE ME...I-I DESERVE IT, I DESERVE TO DIE!"
	"SILENCE!" Volteer shot a bolt into his bleeding head.  "The less interruptions we have, the sooner your exsanguination you DISGUSTING malodorous insignificant aberration!"
Pushing down a little further, the elder stretched the urethral hole as Spyro's shaft bled a thickening pink, a cummy drool that spurted in increasing agony.  He wouldn't split the entire cock apart, more teasing him with the prospect he could, his already fractured body fearing a worse mutilation.
The horn's screwtip would scar the first inch of his cockhead's internal, a burning sting that made him forcefully cum with hot spatters on Volteer's claws.  The dragons watched him squirm with feeble gasps, spraying himself in bloody jizz as Cyril kept violating his ass.  One last twist like corking an apple, he pulled the horn back to reveal it shining crimson.
	"There," said Cyril with deep chuckle, "properly lubed for you, Ignitus."
	"P-please," Spyro whimpered, "please...end me...I-i deserve it, I...I deserve to die-"
	"How DARE YOU!" Terrador punched his head in the ground.  "You cease your servicing of my glorious spear just to tell us how worthless you are?!  For that you lost your right to breathe."
Grabbing the youth's head he throatfucked him once again, a gurgling whinge escaping him as his eyes rolled up in shock.  The stumps of his head trickled with red between the green dragon's fingers, the rose-scaled neck reshaped into his thick meaty pillar.  His fellow guardian stepped behind the youth, the red dragon Ignitus staring upon the ruined hole dripping soft scarlet.
Even then Spyro lifted his tail for him, puckering out his hole, a soft trembling whimper as if begging to be raped.  He wanted it.  His mentor knew he wanted it from that little sound he made, even with his airways blocked.  His master would carefully mount him, lining up his shaft towards the gaping rear.
	"...you do deserve this," he hissed, "vile sickening creature I wish you were never BORN!"
With all his hatred Ignitus shoved inside, raping his student to the full hilt of his shaft.  Spyro's scream haunted his ears, suffocating harder on the cock in his throat with a heaving shudder as his lungs shrivelled up in desperation.  This was the deepest his master had bred him, tearing through his anal walls and scraping his prostate through causing Spyro to spurt again.
	"You, f-filthy SCUM!" Ignitus snapped pumping his hips.  "I despise you, I wish I had never met you, you worthless festering WHORE!"
Closing his eyes shut the mentor gritted his teeth, pushing Spyro out of his mind, deafening himself to the sobbing screams of his beloved pupil.  It was Malefor under him, it was Malefor that killed his boy and was now wearing his skin.  This was what the elders said to themselves the past month, over and over, until all their love and respect for Spyro had been buried in the depths of their hearts.
But Ignitus struggled most, through his hateful words and savage thrusts as he violated his pupil.  The blood turned thicker, lubricating his passage as he hammered his guts to a blackening bulge now fully formed on his belly.  Crimson slivers trickled from Spyro's lips, Terrador pulling back briefly to cum with a monstrous roar as he flooded the hero's gullet.
Hot sputtering ropes of white filled Spyro's stomach, gurgling groans as he swallowed fast as he could before it overflowed out his lips.  Whorish moans escaped him when the earth dragon pulled out, popping his bristly head out of Spyro's lips to paint his face awash in white.  The hero coughed with a gentle gasp, too weak to swallow as his face slumped into the puddle of cum drooling down from Terrador's meat.
	"Do you think we are finished?"
The earth dragon stomped on Spyro's back, a howling shriek as he dry-heaved from the flattening of his gut, causing blood and jizz to squirt out both ends.
	"Such a disappointment you were...don't you agree Ignitus?"
	"NNNGH!  Y-yes!" the scarlet drake hissed.  "W-worthless, misbegotten RAT!  Your existence was a MISTAKE!"
Harder and harder Ignitus raped the youth, punching his knot against the hole before it finally stretched open to swallow his bulge entirely, violating him with the full force of his crimson spear for the first and last time.  Spyro contorted his face in blissful anguish, the surging heat of his mentor combined with the tearing gape making him cum again from his scratched-up cock.
Salty drizzling semen burned the little scars in his glans as he trembled, closer to death with his organs failing as they turned the young saviour to a filthy cumrag.  Every drilling thrust of Ignitus caused more red ichor to spurt, his ruthless lance evermore crimson than before.  Spyro used the last of his fading strength to even lift his rear for him, letting Ignitus rape him deeper until he stabbed his darkening belly.
	"P-please...master," the young one weeped, "h-hurt me...I'm sorry...I-i'm sorry, p-please, kill me."
	"Nnnngh...f-filthy runt, haah, I...n-no.  No this won't do."  His mentor pulled free with bloody tissue on his glans.  "We have to have more room."
	"I agree," sneered Cyril, "shall we open him up?"
	"Yes," said the guardian of flame, "I will save myself for...his final moment."
Grabbing Spyro's tail, the frigid drake blasted a thick gust of his cold breath that caused the scales to crack at the base.  A horrible shudder came through Spyro's hips, a raw burning cold thicken around his tailbase and seep into the bone with such speed, that he wouldn't even realise when they snapped his tail.
Cyril cracked it off, a sharp twinge of his nerves being paralysed before he looked back in horror at his spasming limb.  Falling limp in his pale claws, the ice dragon pulled out a sharp piercing bone from the severed tail, then rolled Spyro onto his back before stabbing into his belly.  His eyes widened in mortal fear as he felt the hardy bone rip through his scales, slowly carving him open.
	"Dragon bone makes the best blade, from what I hear," Cyril ripped through before reaching the throat, "the wretched apes knew that well, and now you shall too, degenerate."
	"Wh-wh-what...aaah...y-y-yes...please, h-hurt me more...it's everything I d-deserve."
	"But clearly not enough...as Terrador said, there is no punishment great enough to amend your worthless existence."
He opened the hero's body, pulling the scales wide to expose all of his thick and plentiful organs.  A twitching thick liver, a set of three lungs, a flattened stomach and that beautiful beating heart.  His bones heaved with each breath, the agony hitting its peak as they could see even the damage done to his rear from within.
	"Take one part each," said Terrador, "leave his lungs so his agony remains, the heart will be kept for his mentor."
	"Indubitably," Volteer laughed, "a derisive simulacrum of our fine upstanding kin."
	"To think a disgusting wretch like you could hope to even mimic us."
The emerald drake took his liver, plucked it free like an apple before wrapping it round his girthy cock to pleasure himself with the hot bloody flesh.  Spyro's voice had gone, his head rolling with delirium as he crept closer to the end.  The yellow dragon took his kidneys, licking his lips and pushing the tube connecting them into the tip of his shaft.
Both him and Cyril were already erect, their swollen orbs trembling to release with equally slender lengths dripping hot white.  The frost dragon pulled out Spyro's intestines, coiling them around his pillar until they strangled his meat like a slippery snake.  The hero shivered feeling empty, a hollow abscess that turned colder by the second as his scales turned more pale.
	"Mmmmph, at least this whore's good for something," hissed Cyril fucking the guts.
	"Correction," Terrador grinned, "he's ONLY good for this, your only good service to this world is your death, little worm."
	"Haaah," Volteer pumped pre into the kidneys, "a splendiforous tribunal, of such VISCERAL ablutions, would you not agree Ignitus?"
	"Yes," the mentor shuddered, "and now it is time...finally...to rid your filthy soul from this world."
	"Th-th-...thank you," Spyro gasped, "please, m-master...kill me."
Stepping forwards, Ignitus grabbed Spyro's ribs and wrenched them free, an agonising tear of more skin causing the hero's body to quiver.  His heart beat faster, then much slower once again as it neared its last.  The dragon elder looked upon his disciple, his wide staring eyes so bloodshot and decrepit, that hint of darkness slithering behind the sclera.
The last thing Spyro saw Ignitus giving a very faint glint of sorrow, that soon disappeared with a seething lust.  Claws wrapped round his heart, pulled it slightly upwards, and promptly impaled it deep on his scarlet lance.
	"THIS...is what you deserve, you s-savage little bastard.  Haaaah!  This world, and my life, is far better with your death...Spyro."
A final gasp was the hero's response, a trembling smile across his cracked cum-stained lips before he would be at peace.  Watching his master rape his heart, Spyro faded into the light with eyes turning white, the plunging lance of Ignitus ripping his organ in half like a wet paper sleeve.
It took his master all of his strength to not burst into tears, even after the month of preparation they all had made to abandon their feelings for the saviour.  Falling into his lust, Ignitus fucked his student's heart into shreds as it pumped blood through the veins, squirting all over his claws and drenching Spyro's face in a mix of thickening reddish pre.
The guardian of flame jerked himself off with a crooked grin, rising higher in a selfish bliss as the elders joined him.  Terrador fucked into the liver like an empty bag, Cyril felt the veins of his cock flex against the intestines, and Volteer already at his peak, started cumming into the kidneys to bloat them full of his rich white seed.
They hung down like two swelling fruits, bursting with too much cum to drip heavily on top of Spyro's eviscerated corpse.  Cyril came next with a spraying rope, shooting directly inside the body cavity to fill up and make his remaining organs float.  But Ignitus came the hardest, a braying roar as he crushed the heart in his claws and smeared it down his entire length like a cheap broken condom.
	"A-AAAARGH, SPYRO!  OHHH SPYRO, YOU WORTHLESS DEAD RUNT, DIE FOR YOUR MASTER LIKE YOU ALWAYS DESERVED!"
Shocked at his own words, he blasted the saviour's face with an explosion of seed, hot voluminous jizz turning his head completely white.  With snarling teeth creeping back, Ignitus sighed with a wave of exhaustion as his cock kept spurting, each spasm shaking off a piece of the hero's heart to drip down on the little face.
	"Haaaah...he...h-he's gone."
	"Indeed," Terrador grunted, "our seed combined is enough to...purify his soul."
	"This will remain...apocryphal," gasped Volteer, "no one must know his true fate, for such a dreadsome failing would surely ingratiate the vox populi."
	"Regrettable," Cyril shuddered, "he was a good one...but at least he pleased us in the end."
They looked to each other, a slow terrible smirk mirroring their blue and golden faces as they tossed the organs aside and picked up the limp body.
	"Wha, what are you doing?" gasped Ignitus.
	"Well, we're still full," murmured Cyril, "the boy is here and-"
	"Are you...seriously, I ought to-"
	"Ignitus," the green dragon snarled, "let them be...how can they defile him worse than we already have?"
Fatigued in his climax, the red dragon said nothing and watched both Cyril and Volteer prop Spyro's corpse above both their cocks.  His ruined hole was soon gaped even wider, the tearing of flesh audible along with the sudden cracking of hips when their lengths pushed into the body cavity.
The legs splayed open farther, the ice dragon's cum from before sloshed out over their laps as they double-penetrated, grinding their members whilst staring upon the glassy look of the hero's face.  In death he kept smiling, so bold and spirited even with his ghostly eyes.
	"Mmmmmph...ohhhh Spyro...forgive us for this."
	"As, vile as the ritual had to be...you still make a fine breeding sow."
	"In that case."
Ignitus grabbed the young head and twisted it free, snapping it off to stare upon him in a brief recognisance.  For a moment he almost imagined Spyro's brain was still working, a soft twitch in his eye and a dithering in the jaw that made him smile remorseful.  But his guilt disappeared with his yearning arousal, knowing this had always been the right thing to do.
	"Thank you Spyro."  He kissed his dead lips.  "Truly...you saved us all."
He sat back on his haunches and pushed the head down on his cock, still dripping with pieces of heart.  Malefor's essence was long gone, purified by cum and erased with the death of its host.  The master's brimming shaft pushed through the neckhole and fucked upwards through the hornless skull, watching his own tip push out through the jaws with the look of a whore.
From that day no trace would exist of Spyro, in this life or the next.  As Malefor died with him, a whispering scream was silenced by the purity of dragon seed.