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Their ears rang as the roaring around them stopped.
The green chain flared angrily between them as they circled. Spyro and Cynder beheld the great monster before them, its gargantuan wings outstretched, jaw stretched open to fire, entire body practically frozen in place.
Malefor was still, as they'd planned. Hoped.
They’d strategised beforehand with what knowledge they had of their foe, as well as the last few desperate moments of swooping and tumbling out of the way of those diabolical claws. Considered their options both incorporating and excluding the use of Dragon Time. As it turned out, it had obeyed Spyro upon his call, and now they had a small chance to breathe and decide their next few manoeuvres.
Malefor’s minions and other wayward factions had given them a lot of practice, teaching them to coordinate their attacks against foes both great and lumbering, small and unending. There had been plenty of friendly fire, and gem supplies drained in the aftermath, but it had gotten them to this moment, with the Dark Master of the age suspended between them.
Like their stash of spirit gems, Time was at a premium. It was to count if they were to win.
Spyro had always wondered if the chain between them had allowed Cynder to follow him through the grey sea of slowed Time. But now wasn't the time for his belief to waver. And if, once Time restarted, their connection was severed for whatever reason, if Malefor decided to cut their link with his inexplicable influence, seeing an advantage they didn't, they still weren't powerless.
Breath combinations, spacing, flight trajectories. More things they had to consider before the sky resumed falling around them and the earth expelled lava and burning toxins from far below.
Fighting the atmosphere around them would cost valuable energy. Their options were limited, and they had to consider if Malefor would be capable of ignoring the raging elements around him. Blocking or redirection. Concentrated attack or wide coverage.
One thing was certain: he did not have the privilege of multiple pairs of eyes. That was their strongest advantage.
Malefor's eyes were half shut as undefined elemental energy lay suspended within his maw. The throat was a significant source of power for a dragon, the most natural channel for one's explosive might.
And the most likely crutch.
Cynder knew what Spyro was thinking. They rose into place, Cynder at the back of Malefor's craggy, mountainous neck, Spyro staring down the slitted amber eyes straight on as the tether strained between them.
He took a few breaths, watching Cynder do the same. The rise and fall of Malefor's own chest was glacial, almost arrested.
Cynder gave him the bodily signal, and Spyro opened his maw.
The firing of magic always narrowed one's field of vision for a split second, but a quick calculation all that was necessary. The details on the face of the great purple dragon flickered against the mottled sky for a moment.
In an instant, against the grey, the amber slits blazed wide and dark irises beared down upon Spyro. Malefor's neck arched back in real time, impossibly fast, while the rest of his enormous body floated with ease.
All Spyro could do was brace himself.