Khanon

The sun shone bright that day, the warm beams reflecting off the tiny gold bracelets around her wrists. And she looked up into the sky with a grim face before glancing back to her scrolls. Countless times she had poured over them. Studying each word in a language unknown to her, unreachable yet so close.

With an angry grumble she pushed the tattered and yellowed paper away with a careful claw. She was a guardian, and she would stay a guardian. That's what they had told her countless times, and it seemed now they were correct. She had thought her talents as a scroll master would prove them wrong, but...

No, she couldn't give up. There was one more. One more scroll she had yet to study, yet it was as confusing and jumbled as the last. She could only understand one word: Skydancer.

Excitement bloomed and spread throughout her body, and very carefully, very tenderly, she rested her claw upon the word, whispering in ancient tounges and watching with excitement as the word glowed and released a soft mist that swirled around her body. Soon the mist became so thick that her eyes were useless, and she braced herself. The pain hit. Horrible, wrenching pain so intense she nearly collapsed. But she didn't make a sound. She merely gripped the cliff and stood ridged.
And when she could see again, she spread her feathered wings and gave a victory roar. The roar of a Skydancer. For she was no longer Khanon, the scribe of Guardians. Nay.