realized i never posted this over here so. go my wizblr friends take the baddie. big inspiration back then was chappell’s vmas live lol
btw idc if spitfire isn’t canon to the main timeline i still feel like sylvia was dragonspyre jesus on the battlefield. need to see mali down even worse than he already is thank you ravenwood academy writers
Summary: Destiny DreamWielder finds herself bearing witness to Sylvia’s last moments.
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Heavy angst, and on page description of (canonical) character illness and death. Also, discussion of the heavy topics inherent to Dragonspyre.
A/N: This rambling is inspired by @oldestenemy ‘s top tier post I just reblogged. Go give it some love!! Title borrowed from the song by Blue Foundation.
Destiny had only ever heard stories of Sylvia Drake. Of course, she’d been on a mission to defeat the woman’s husband for over a year, so that had obviously led to a few run-ins with him. But Sylvia was a mysterious figure, known only to Destiny through the recollections of Shawna and the other residents of Wizard City. Still, she felt wrong raiding the late Professor Drake’s tomb to trap her spirit in a tiny little crystal. If her whole quest was to stop Malistaire’s mad plan to resurrect her, shouldn’t Destiny also let her rest?
But Cyrus was her professor, the adult in charge, and Sylvia’s brother-in-law, so she followed his instructions dutifully, ignoring the uneasy feeling in her stomach. Catherine stayed behind at Cyrus’s order. He didn't trust the younger girl with anything, especially not Sylvia’s spirit.
As she took the portal to the Necropolis, Destiny felt the spirits of Old Dragonspyre calling to her, begging to be heard, making every step she took heavier. She’d never been in a Spiral World so full of history and death, and her visions were becoming more and more frequent because of it. She could feel the stories swirling in the air, and she was too afraid to ask Cyrus if he could too, if that was the real reason why he wouldn't venture past the Basilica.
She battled her way through the tomb’s defenses on autopilot, summoning familiar monsters to dispense with the hostile ones, until she reached the top floor. Her head ached as she gazed upon the coffin, and as she stepped forward she saw a dark figure appear. A final defense, she assumed, until it spoke.
“Malistaire?” the figure called, and Destiny’s blood ran cold. “Is that you? Have you come for me? It’s so cold here...so dark, and I’m so alone...”
That was not the voice of a spirit tasked with guarding a tomb. Destiny had never heard it before, but she knew the voice was Sylvia’s. The figure looked up at her, and its eyes began to burn.
“You’re not my Malistaire!” it screeched, “What have you done to him?! I won’t harm him... You’ll never get me to betray my beloved husband!”
The wraith lunged at her, attacking ferociously as Destiny desperately fought back. It felt so wrong to hurt this… this thing that used to be Sylvia, but she had to. Their duel raged on until Destiny finally dispelled her guilt and summoned a great Orthrus to defeat the wraith. It worked, and she watched, relieved, as the darkness rushed out of the figure and Sylvia’s true spirit was left standing.
The relief turned to fear, however, when she realized where the darkness was headed. It slammed into her, and she could feel it coursing through her as the magic within her swelled up to greet it.
She blinked, and found herself in a lovely Wizard City home, one she’d only ever seen from the outside when older students pointed it out. The Drake house. The master bedroom, specifically, with its curtains half drawn and a dying Sylvia Drake nestled in the bed. A version of Malistaire Destiny had only seen in portraits sat beside it, tears streaming down his face as he held his wife’s hand. Headmaster Ambrose stood on the other side, muttering under his breath and performing spell after spell in an attempt to heal her. Destiny sensed that she was watching time progress quickly, that this scene played out for weeks, perhaps even months, on end, and she wished desperately to leave. This was private. She had no right to be watching.
Time seemed to even out, and Sylvia looked awful. Her face was pale and sunken in, and her whole body was constantly being wracked by her horrible, hacking cough. The circles beneath Malistaire’s eyes were just as dark as his wife’s, and he looked terrible. Ambrose finally lowered his hands, great fear sadness in his eyes.
“There’s nothing more I can do, Malistaire,” he whispered, “her time has come. I’ll give you privacy for...” he paused, choking up. “For her...her last moments.”
The headmaster left, tears disappearing into his thick beard, and Sylvia stopped a now furious Malistaire from following.
“My love,” she rasped, “he’s right. You and I know better than anyone that these are forces we cannot overcome.”
Malistaire sobbed, holding his wife’s now boney hands tightly in his own, “I love you my darling, I’ll fix this. I’ll bring you back.”
“No,” she coughed, “Malistaire no, let me go. No one can overcome death. Just be with me now.”
He pressed his head to hers, and she smiled, closing her eyes. Destiny looked away, tears in her own eyes as she listened to Sylvia breathe her final labored breaths. The room was silent - Why isn’t this horrible vision over? - and Destiny slowly turned back to see Malistaire shaking with grief and rage.
“I am the Master of Death, I will bring you back, my love. We will be together again,” he vowed, and the vision began to dissipate.
Blinking again, Destiny found herself back in Sylvia’s tomb. Immediately, she collapsed to the floor under the weight of what she was just forced to witness. Shaking with tears and fear, overwhelmed by the unfair events she’d been thrust into, and the responsibility she’d been given, she remained there until she could breathe properly again.
Sylvia’s ghost stood over her, looking concerned. Destiny stared at her. How could this healthy and rosy woman be the same one she just saw die?
“Are you alright, dear?” Sylvia asked, and Destiny couldn't answer. She could only gaze at the ghost with sadness and remorse as she reached out with the knowledge crystal Cyrus gave her and captured the spirit within it. A strange badge fell to the ground, and Destiny pocketed it mindlessly alongside the crystal that she refused to think about.
She remained on her knees in the tomb for a few moments more, attempting to push everything down and come back to the task at hand. Finally, she wiped her cheeks and rose, turning around to return to Cyrus. She knew she couldn't tell him what she just saw, and focused on planning what she’d say instead. The little things were all that kept her from losing her mind.
She had no idea how she’d ever return to normal when all of this was over.
started out with trying to draw Cyrus but he turned out young so the other two ensued also young. sdsskklljsffkll sorry about Sylvia i can't remember if her being a fire wizard Back When was purely out of manipulation or if she ended up changing schools like Dalia. it's been months since I've done the b.o.x. event
