Cynthia

It was late at night. She should have been asleep, but she was thinking about her future. They all said, "It's an honor to serve in Gladekeeper's army." That was the path her brothers and sisters took. They wanted her to serve and give up her identity to become one as a whole. She wanted to stay herself.

Her parents had never given her a name before sending her out to prove herself to the harsh world. She was waiting in a shelter for dragons with no trade. The warriors of Gladekeeper and Icewarden would occasionally come and pick up the dragon with the smallest apprenticeship fee to build the armies. She never liked the idea of fighting for the rest of her life. She was a small and delicate dragon at birth, with no magical inclination.

At precisely 4:00, she ran away.

A storm swept her up. She rose the winds before landing, badly battered, in a desert on the ridge of a canyon. She seemed to be on top of a cave of sorts. She gripped the edge and looked down. A dragon exited the cave and flew away, the wind from its wings blowing her back. She dropped down onto a thin ledge.

~~~

That was her story.

Angry that she would be used as a tool to further the gods' causes. Filled with rage for her brothers and sisters, who suffered the fate that she nearly missed. She wouldn't forget them. She would get her revenge for them.

A mask, to hide her identity. Powered wings, to steady her flight. A pouch for storing assorted items. She tied birdskulls to them all, one for everyone she had lost.

The gods were greedy. She knew it.

Adjust her wings. Tie on the birdskulls. Put on her mask.

Their greed would last no more.

Not after she killed them all.
(she agrees)