Unknown creature

The world wasn't always like this. Once, the air sparkled with magic, but people grew afraid and began the Great Hunt. Inquisitors slaughtered mages by the family—sparing no one. Only one child survived.

He was about ten years old when the soldiers burned down the sanctuary. His parents shielded him with their own bodies, allowing him to escape into the forest. Since then, he had wandered alone. There was almost no magic left in him. He lived in ruins deep within the woods, feeding on roots, drinking spring water, and sleeping beneath debris. Every day he gazed at the horizon and waited. He believed that other mages had survived and would one day come for him. He couldn't be the last.

He sat on the grass by the wall, trying to ignite a dark flame in his palms. Black matter pulsed in the air, from which he attempted to grow a green sprout. Sometimes it appeared, but the moment he lost focus, the energy burned it to ash. He grew angry, but he didn't give up. Magic was all he had left.

Suddenly, a massive shadow sliced across the sky. The child felt a gust of wind that ruffled the hems of his worn clothes and flattened the tall grass right by his elbow. He froze for a moment.

Then came the loud clap of wings. The wind grew sharper, stronger—it struck his face, forcing the boy to squint, and then the shadow engulfed him entirely. In that same instant, a creature landed heavily on the wall he was leaning against. The stones shuddered, dust rained down, and a few small pebbles tumbled onto his shoulder. The child snapped his head up, pressing himself against the cold masonry.

Right in front of him, looming over the ruins, sat a bird-like monstrosity. Black, enormous, with the body of a beast, a long tail, and giant wings that were still slowly folding behind its back. Talons gripped the stone, leaving thin scratches in the rock. But the most terrifying part was the head—with curved horns and a white, smooth, porcelain-like face devoid of any emotion. The creature tilted its head and stared at the child with empty eyes.

A deep voice, sounding as if it came from the bottom of a well, rumbled:
— You sit here, upon the ruins, attempting to create life from the void. Wasting the last crumbs of your strength, yet around you—there are only dead stones.