The Bracken Woods all streams flow into the sea

It was strange, so very strange, to be heading in this direction for the second time in his life. Spyridon had not expected to return to Ankyra Sound. As to whether or not he wanted to, the consort had never considered it. His wants, his desires, were nonexistent, sans his dedication to the sisters of the sea. His mother and grandmother had raised him well. Or rather, they had raised him to be a mindless follower to The Nereides. He did not, of course, share their name. That was reserved for the women of the religion that some found strange.

He had been instructed to stand guard over Minthe as she made her journey. Spyro did not (would not) give her direction, but he would be here should they become the target of some malicious force. Spyro shared the feelings of being lost, though he had not voiced as much with his ward.

Abraxas spoke, and even if Spyridon hadn't been able to understand the foreign (to most) tongue, he would have known by Minthe's reaction that the consort's words were uncalled for. "Fool," Spyro said in fluent Greek, stepping between Minthe and Abraxas, facing the other consort. "Not your place."