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TLoS: World at War prologue"She is just like me!"
Spyro watched the once evil black dragoness named Cynder, shrink into a much smaller being about his size. Spyro didn't have time to think, for the portal that Cynder had placed the crystal containing Ignitus's powers began to collapse and suck everything in.
"Dude, we gotta get out of here!" said Sparx, more than ready to leave.
"I can't just leave her here! I've got to save her!" shouted Spyro, watching as Cynder was slowly being pulled in.
"What?! Save the beast that's been trying to kill us?!"
"That wasn't her fault! She was being used by the Dark Master!" Spyro said adamantly.
Spyro then flew back the moment Cynder was pulled in. Moments later, Spyro was flying out of the portal with Cynder in his forepaws.
"Now we can go!"
"Right behind you buddy!" exclaimed Sparx, relieved they were finally moving.
Spyro beat his wings as hard and as fast as he could towards the portal that opened on the other side of Convexity with Sparx right behind him. Before he could
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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