Wyntr

Gustav said it was a rare statue. He found it at a dig site, and took it home. Everyone could smell the magic of being god-touched. With thousands of statues in that dig, a single one missing wasn't noticed. Fasaud had taken a look at the alabaster statue and nodded.

"It will be useful to us in the future. I can See it."

No one expected the alabaster to gain splotches of colors and open its eyes. There's a powerful magic in being godtouched. All of the heretics fell silent, unsure of what to do.

"Hi." The little boy had a squeaky voice, like rocks being scraped against each other. He stretched out, purring softly. A child.

This has happened to all of the statues uncovered. A new breed, each dragon molded by the earth titan. Lightning curls around Derecho's body and he understands better than anyone else how this breed has been cursed.

He understands better than anyone else how this hatchling has been cursed twice over.

The child's taken to calling himself Wyntr. He's never seen real snow or ice but the idea's novel enough for him. Wyntr doesn't understand how special he is, how gifted he is in magic. The adults quietly hope he never will.

Wyntr's been given three bad cards. One, he is an Oblisk. Two, he has been blessed by Arcanist. Three, there is a prophecy of how useful he'll be.

It's a quiet meeting where they all promise each other never to tell him. To do their best to prevent him from meeting a fate where he is simply just useful. They create ways to check themselves to make sure they never use him. Wyntr sleeps through the entire thing.

Perhaps it's for the best that he doesn't know. He adores his clan. It's the only family he's ever know. Most likely the only family he'll ever know. Wynter is a hatchling, a baby. He wants to help his family. He magically cleans and gets scolded. He cleans without magic and is told not to bother. He is spoiled and hates it.

Wyntr is a precocious hatchling. One day he'll be a precocious hatchling that will kill a god.