Legacy

He's two when his siblings are thrown off the cliffs and their fates sealed, left to fly or fall with wings barely large enough to catch the wind. He watches them fall, held back by firm talons and struggling, screaming, fighting - but he can't get free. He can't get them back.

He can't follow, either. They won't let him.

He still remembers their names.

Ari, the hatchling sobs, too young to know loss but too old to not feel the weight of grief. Versiaz. Why?

He grows up alone, surrounded by the ghosts of the people he's supposed to know, dragons who retreat into hollow shells of themselves upon seeing him. Some try to flatter him, some put on happy masks, some simply sneer and walk away. Others don't bother to hide their unease, and they don't walk.

They run.

He is too young at the time to understand the whispers, the side-eyes, the rumors and murmurs that follow in his wake. All he knows is that his parents are distant and his siblings are gone, and that this world is cruel in the kindest sort of way.

He's not the one killed. He's the lucky one, because he's special, and he wasn't killed because of it. He's the blessed of this legacy but at the same time he is not, is simultaneously a disappointment and everything they could've hoped for all in one. Budding potential that means nothing, now.

Whatever will he has is sapped away, drained as quickly as it comes.