The three walked in silence, the night pressing heavily around them. Simon's steps grew slower with each passing moment. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, and his face was pale—far too pale for Aria's liking. Even so, he kept going, his jaw tight with determination.
Spyro shot Simon a sidelong glance, concern flickering in his eyes. "I can help you," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Let me help."
Simon shook his head without breaking stride. "I can walk."
Aria, trailing just behind, threw her arms in the air. "He doesn't have to be stubborn about every damn thing that happens! You need help, Simon! We should turn back—get you to a hospital or something."
Simon stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his usual even demeanor replaced by frustration. "Do you think a hospital in this modern time and day is going to have an antidote for this?" His voice was sharp, though weariness dragged at the edges.
Aria froze, his words striking her like a slap. Her mouth opened to argue, but nothing came out. He was right. She bit her lip and nodded, falling silent.
They continued onward until they reached the mouth of a cave. The jagged edges of its entrance loomed like teeth, but it offered shelter.
Spyro stepped forward, sniffing the air. His brows furrowed as he concentrated. After a few moments, he relaxed and waved them forward. "It's safe."
Simon stumbled the moment he crossed into the cave, his legs giving out beneath him. He landed heavily on the floor, his back against the wall.
"Simon!" Aria dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice was faint. He rested his head against the cold stone and exhaled shakily. "Just… woozy. Weak."
Aria sighed and sat beside him, her worry etched deep into her features. Spyro, meanwhile, leaned against the cave wall briefly before pushing off and heading toward the exit.
"I'll get wood for a fire," he said, disappearing into the night.
Aria and Simon sat in tense silence, the sounds of Simon's labored breaths filling the space. When Spyro returned a short while later, his arms were loaded with sticks. His shirt was missing entirely, leaving only his tattered trousers.
Aria's brow arched as she watched him arrange the wood with surprising care. Spyro knelt over the pile and exhaled a soft burst of flame. The sticks crackled and caught, bathing the cave in warm, flickering light.
Simon squinted at the fire, a small, dry laugh escaping his lips. "I've never seen a real dragon in my life."
Spyro smirked. "And I've never seen a real knight in mine."
Simon leaned his head back against the wall, coughing weakly before speaking again. "I come from a family of knights. Generations of them—highly skilled, highly loyal. We've served and protected kingdoms since ancient times. Now, no one even believes we still exist… but here we are."
Aria watched him closely, her expression soft with pity.
"Your father," Simon continued, turning his weary gaze to her, "is a good man. He saved my father's life once, on some expedition they went on together." He coughed again, and Aria instinctively reached out to steady him.
"'Powerful mage!' my father would call him," Simon said with a raspy chuckle.
Spyro tilted his head. "Mage?"
Simon nodded faintly. "Her father is no ordinary elf. If he were, how would he get a knight to protect his hard-headed daughter?"
Aria scowled at him. "I'm sitting right here, you know."
"So your father has a connection to magic," Spyro mused aloud, sitting down beside them. His eyes fixed on Aria, curiosity burning in their golden depths. "Aria, can you do that thing you did earlier? The barrier."
"What thing?" Aria asked, though her tone betrayed her unease.
"The barrier you created between Simon and the goblin. I saw you do it."
Aria shook her head, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of his words.
Spyro, undeterred, pressed on. "That means your brother had traces of magic, too. The children they took… they were never burnt, injured, or marked in the ways you'd expect. Maybe traces of magic in his blood made them think he'd be the perfect vessel—their 'endgame.'"
Simon groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "What in the celestials is he rambling about now?"
"Endgame?" Aria echoed.
"What kind of elf is your father?" Spyro asked.
"I don't know," Aria admitted softly. The realization hit her like a wave. She knew so little about her father.
Simon's voice was a hoarse whisper. "High elf. He's a high elf."
Spyro's eyes widened, and he stood abruptly, pacing. "That explains it! Your father is a high elf, which makes you a high elf, and your brother one as well. If they broke into your house to take him, they must have known he wasn't normal. He must have been honing magic in ways we can't even imagine. They thought… using him… for a ritual—"
"He's gone mad, hasn't he?" Simon interrupted with a weak chuckle.
Spyro stopped pacing and faced Aria. "You can heal him."
"What?" Aria's voice was barely above a whisper.
"You can heal him," Spyro repeated firmly.
"I don't know how!" she snapped. "Up until now, I didn't even know any of this was real!"
"Try," Spyro urged.
"Yeah, Aria… try… please," Simon rasped, his voice nearly breaking.
Aria hesitated, but the sight of Simon's pale face made her swallow her doubt. "Okay," she murmured.
She knelt beside him, her hands hovering over his side. For a few seconds, nothing happened.
"I don't feel anything," Simon grumbled weakly. "I feel the same."
"Be quiet. I'm trying to concentrate," she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.
Spyro chuckled softly, but the tension remained.
Then, without warning, a surge of energy coursed through her. It wasn't something she understood, but it was raw and powerful.
"I'm trying my best for someone who doesn't even know what she's doing, okay?" she shouted.
Simon gasped and groaned in pain before going utterly still.
"Simon!" Aria leaned forward, pressing her ear to his chest. Relief flooded her as she heard the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His color was returning, and his breathing had evened out.
Spyro's mouth hung open. "Your eyes… they did a thing."
"What thing?" Aria asked, confused.
"Never mind," Spyro said quickly. "Is he okay?"
Aria exhaled deeply. "His heart is strong. He's breathing. I don't even know what I did… but it worked."
"That's all that matters," Spyro said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Aria sat back, hugging her knees to her chest. "We'll wait here until he wakes up."
Spyro stretched and yawned. "Fine by me. I need the rest… though I'm starving."
Aria's stomach growled in agreement. She sighed. "Morning, then. We'll figure it out in the morning."
The cave grew quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of Simon's breathing.