Tornado

Tornado. That was his name and his calling. He wanted more than anything to be the fastest. A storm that wouldn't slow down, clear skies were never for him. No one knows where he came from. One day, a whirlwind appeared. The skies were a navy blue for five days. In the center, a whirling tornado raged.

After it dispersed, a fae took its place. He was but a hatchling, and from the looks of him he hadn't a day to his name. The clan named him after the event, thinking he was a blessing of the Windsinger. And that he was. By far the fastest in the clan, he delivers messages and he races. He has never been spotted out of the air or asleep.


What the clan doesn't know is what happened to him before they found him. He was flitting, slowly, leisurely, when his companions sped up, forcing him faster and faster. He grew used to this, now speeding up on his own. He loved the speed, tearing up the ground with his fast spiraling motions. He knew his old companions sought to disarm him, to rob him of his speed. So he sped up, faster and faster and faster, until he was different, he no longer was pray to his companions, they no longer controlled him. However, he began to... fall. He fell much faster than he was used to, usually the direction was ignored. His companions where pulling him up though. Expanding himself, he found now had a limit. However, it slowed his decent. Something told him hitting the ground would be bad. His companions brought him up when he expanded himself correctly. The Dragons seemed interested in him, though he had no clue why, rumor had it they couldn't see him nor his companions. Maybe the change was larger than he thought.

The Dragons taught him like one of their hatchlings, and he learned that he indeed looked like them. He decided not to tell them of his previous life, as a gust of wind.