(Based on the headcanon that elytrians arent born, but made from avians.)

Phil, finally giving up and unable to cope with his instincts, had to act. He already had two sons, both of whom he had found and cared for as his own, but everything was not enough for him. It wasn't enough for him without his own little heir. A little hatchling who looked like him.

One bright day, Phil made up his mind. The fire engulfed the village, devouring houses and lives. Screams of despair mixed with the crackling flames, creating a symphony of terror. But Phil couldn't hear anything except a whisper of hope for finding a son.

As the ashes settled, Phil was already standing far away from the smoke, holding a small blonde child in his arms. Well, he looks about six years old, small, but already with fluffy wings the size of his body. He tried to push him away with his small fists, screaming and crying, "I WANT MY PAPA!!"

"I'm your new papa, hatchling." He murmured with a smile, gently holding his new son closer. Smoke on the horizon? It was just an accident, he assured himself. It was just an accident that had nothing to do with his new son.