My story is titled: "Of a Feather"
(IGN: Phoenixaureal, Character count: 2500 exactly)
She died with a shriek that would freeze stars, and he withdrew his sword with a solemn temperance. It was clear he'd had no desire to end the life of such a majestic creature, one of the last of an ancient species, but the rabid curse had driven her to violence.
Perhaps it was fate, but as he left he glanced back to her restful form... and there I was. Kneeling, he brushed aside some of the burnt blue feathers to reveal a cracked egg that glowed like an ember. Through the jagged edges I could see the conflict on his face, deciding what should be done with this dangerous creature.
He sighed, and gently scooped up the egg. I could hear the sizzle of his skin from its radiance, yet he held it with careful hands. He wrapped it up in his cloak, and spirited us both away to a new place. A garden retreat, known only to him.
It was a difficult childhood. He hadn't expected me to grow so fast, and I, with the instincts of an elemental Gryphon, could not understand that my premature birth left my wings too weak to carry me. Once, I leapt from the cliff beside our home chasing an owl. My master must have heard my cry from his workshop, so like my mother's, and leapt out the window, hurling himself after me.
I felt his scarred hands snatch me from the air and press me to his chest. He deployed his glider just in time to save us both, though it caught a branch and forced a heavy landing. His broken ankle would heal, but I felt awful. He scolded me for my foolishness, and I saw something new in his eyes. Tears.
Before long I had grown enough to become his mount. He forged for me brilliant silver armor, it shone like the sun with my fire. I felt like I would be the most glorious mount in ArcheRage, if only I could fly. We charged into battle many times, his flames intertwining mine, weaving hell through hordes.
Until one day, when battling mages upon a mountaintop, we were separated. A mystic bond snared me to a sudden halt, throwing him off. Before he could get his bearings, they stunned him with a spell, and struck him from the edge of the mountain.
I loosed a shriek which would burn stars, as my inferno swallowed the cold air, burning through my bonds and my enemies. I dashed after my master, propelled by fury, and soared to his falling body. He gripped at the fur of my back, and looked down. We were flying. I beat my wings, riding my own heat and the world revolved beneath us.
“Good girl, Ember.” I heard his weak voice say. “Your mother would be so proud."