Ankyra Sound burned alive

A promotion. Spyridon was elated, ever-happy to be such a help to The Nereides and their cause. With this, he knew, came more responsibility. The consorts and spawn were now under his command, and he would be expected to keep them in line. It meant making sure that no more bad seeds leaked into the sound. And for those that did, Spyro would ensure that they were quickly taught their place. He was not a violent beast, preferring non-confrontational situations to violent ones, but he could be strong if he needed to. In fact, Spyridon could be whatever The Nereides needed him to be. It was his duty, his life.

He strode along the coastline, but stopped in a tidepool. The water was cold, freezing, even, as the winter temperatures had finally settled in. He stood ankle-deep in the salted water, staring out to sea as the waves crashed onto the sandy coast. The bruise on his back had not fully healed, and the fight with Nishu and the outsider had aggravated it, but he could ignore the pain. He had to be strong. Closing his sea-green eyes, he thanked the mothers and sisters of the sea.