Aventurine

Aventurine knew the moment of his birth he was a called one. When the wandering rock clan came to take him, he’d been expecting them. His birth, like some other members of the clan, had been predestined, and so without words or explanation he left to join them.
Upon arrival however, and learning of the full nature of the curse upon them, he began to question it. Had he really been a called one before the clan? If he hadn’t come with them would he have escaped their fate? If he had stayed in his arcane home, would it have been far enough to save him?
As he came into adulthood, he began to grow bitter at fate, wondering if his life might have been different. For some time he blamed the clan against his better judgement, fighting his memories that he had always been called, turning away from his found family in hopes of escaping what seemed to be a grim destiny.
And one day he gave in to his fears.
He stole away in the night, wandering the plains for some time. The call to return was so strong it was disorienting, and soon he found the source, as his feet carried him there of their own will.
Cairnestone crest stood high above, stark against the cliff face in the moonlight. For so long he had avoided it since that first day of his arrival. Each dragon who joined the clan was taken down by the elders first, to choose their name and be safely removed before the stone called them too strongly to resist.
He remembered the vastness of the mind housed within his crystal, the chalky green and blue surface seeming to ripple like murky water as it whispered. He was so young then, so easily lost. And he would have been too, if it had not been for Sepal pulling him away.
For a time he stayed there watching, but too afraid to enter.
As he watched that night however, he saw a light flickering dimly in one of the side caverns, and deep within knew it was one of his kin. Despite his withdrawal, his deep connection to the clan left him concerned, knowing the dangers of a called one alone in the crest.
And so, warily, he entered.
What he found was the embodiment of everything he feared.
Inside he saw what other members had been discussing in hushed whispers behind claws and feathers. Obsidian, encased in the pitch black crystals that called to them, listened as it whispered to them, drawn into a deep trance by its words. Without another care to the call so near, he dug his fellow clan member out and pulled them to safety.
“What were you thinking?” he asked fearfully.
Still in the trance, Obsidian merely whispered “I have to learn. I must help them.”
As he spoke to Obsidian upon their return, he began to realize.
He had not been chosen to be taken by fate, nor by the crystals.
He’d been chosen to protect his found family, and help them escape.
And so he would.