Austin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most days, the pull is easy to ignore. Necromancy and Shade magic seem like distant nightmares when Austin wakes every morning to the sunny, song-filled plains of the Windsinger’s domain; it is perfectly easy to pack away the urge to unleash the magic boiling in his veins, and he can smile with full sincerity at his fellow clan members as he gets on with the tasks of the day.

He can hear laughter in the distance between his clanmates, the bright notes of the song his son is singing as it drifts towards the sky. Something settles deep in his bones, contentment soothing his heart.

It wasn’t always like this. Austin’s childhood was a far cry from his current life, and it all began in the Scarred Wasteland. Even when he didn’t know a lick of magic and was still learning to fly, hatchlings used to shrink away from him when he approached and, behind his mother’s back, the older members of the clan would pretend as if he didn’t exist at all.

This was because his mother was the Morrigan, a necromancer and a sorceress of the highest order who could turn a field of flowers into a barren wasteland or revive a rotting body without lifting a claw. Not to mention her ruthless ambition and traitorous ways, which cost her the love of her son.

Austin’s soft heart didn’t allow him to hate his mother; it did, however, make him learn that the last thing he wanted to become like her.

He left as soon as he could comfortably fly long distances, joining a small, peaceful clan in the Windswept Plateau. There, he suppressed the magic that he and his kind were born to wield and never touched Plague magic again. Whatever traces of Shade and necromancy energy in him would lie dormant for years.

Until she came along.

Until Toxina, a skydancer as graceful and as kind as she was beautiful, whom Austin met on a visit to the Wasteland. She made him think that it was alright to begin a family, to raise hatchlings who would never have the same childhood Austin had. He would learn too late that Toxina had far more selfish motives for their clutch, and the only reason she feigned interest in him had not been for who he was but for what he was.

It was why she so fiercely guarded their clutch and grew cold when he tried to approach her, why she could never quite look him in the eye when returning his declarations of love.

Then she caught him trying to flee with the eggs.

Sharp teeth were bared and threats exchanged; Austin could no longer recognize the vicious, hate-filled skydancer that he once called his mate. Whatever love that could have lain between them was now nothing more than cold ash—now, he was fighting for the future of his children.

Austin could have won. If he’d dedicated his life to the study of the magic he so rejected, if he had explored the power in his veins instead of shunning it, if. He grew desperate enough to dip his claws into it again, but he was deeply out of practice.

The magic took more than it gave. He still bears the consequences of the fight: raised scar tissue criss-crosses his flank and chest, a segment of his left wing torn beyond repair, a light but permanent limp, and his left hindclaw forever stained black. And deep inside him, his heart is locked away forever. He knows he will never trust another again.

But all of it was not for nothing. Austin got away with one egg out of four—Caleb, his son.

He returned to the Wind clan and raised Caleb with every bit of love he could give and then some. He taught Caleb to be kind, to be forgiving, and, most importantly of all, to ignore the call of ambition and to control the magic in him.

With every lesson he imparts, Austin is reminded of the absence of his other children. Where they are now? Did they survived his cruel mate? Do they think about their father?

He will never step foot in the Wasteland again, but… he wonders.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bio by shanncrafter based on my idea.