Air-eye-in.
First of her line, named for the god she contained.
First vessel of the Dove.
Erian was born to the former scout Alseanne Sunheart in the days when Sūtla and The Hawk were still fighting for control, during a bountiful spring. She quickly proved stronger and faster than all her siblings, and as she began to train as a scout in her adolescence, those skills blossomed even further. This combined with her then-rare beauty drew The Hawk's attention with ease.
The Sunhearts were happy about this — they had always been a lower-ranking family in the Aeskīr, a disadvantage that had showed the last winter, when Alseanne had nearly perished from starvation while pregnant with her pups. The Hawk's attention on their daughter could be dangerous, but if Erian played their cards right, soon the Sunhearts would rise in both power and resources.
That day never came. That winter was crueler even than the last. Food was few in far between, and almost all of the Sunhearts got only bones to chew on for their marrow — that is, except for Erian. Her family watched with jealousy they made no effort to conceal as she was allowed to take her fill far before them.
Eventually even their presence became too much for the pack. Alseanne and all of Erian's siblings were chased into the wilderness; it was no longer feasible to keep them around. A drain of resources, The Hawk called them. They begged Erian to come with them — but her paws stayed firmly rooted to the ground, eyes brimming with tears. She was far too scared of starvation to chance it.
She would regret that decision for the rest of her life — so much, in fact, that when her friend Leika brought up a method to overthrow The Hawk and finally place control of the Aeskīr back in the hands of wolves, she jumped at the chance. After what happened to her parents, it felt like an obligation. She followed Leika down the mountain, towards the stone temple at its base, and, although she didn't know it yet, towards Leika's doom.
It started off normal enough. Her friend prayed to gods that Erian didn't quite understand. The Serpent, the Stag, the Bear — she listed off the names of various animals with reverence and begged for their help. Erian echoed her words in a quiet murmur.
She didn't realize what was happening to Leika at first when the cackle erupted from her mouth. Was it part of the prayer? That was, until Leika's tail twisted and lengthened, lashing across the stone, her ears rising into points. The sound of her muscles and bones snapping and then reforming broke the silence that Erian had frozen into. She remembers screaming as the expression in Leika's eyes shifted into one she didn't recognize and the Fox leaped at her with a feverish grin in its eyes.
Another god answered. Erian's screams fell into silence as the Dove's silvery feathers sprouted between the tufts of her fur, as the skin of her nose and pawpads began to glow with the light of the moon. This god was much kinder than the one Leika held, and it knew exactly what moves to make to wriggle out of the Fox's grasp.
Erian scrambled up the mountain, Leika's hot breath close on her heels. She was still conscious — the Dove did not tear her soul apart but coexisted with it, helping her through the motions she needed to survive.
That night was like no other. The fear she saw in her former friend's eyes, the twisted glee in Leika's, and the anger and shock in The Hawk's… it all blended together in her disorientation. She would only truly remember it later in her nightmares.
