The moment arrived with the force of a volcanic eruption. As the blue sun reached its zenith, the final Master Awakening Fruit pulsed with blinding brilliance, setting the very air aflame. The sacred tree trembled with mystical energy; each fruit hanging from its ancient branches blazed like captured stars.
"The harvest begins!" Pyrothane's voice rolled across the Sacred Grove. "Mothers of the Flame Forest, claim your children's destiny!"
The response was instantaneous and thunderous. Dozens of mothers lunged toward the tree simultaneously, their massive forms creating a stampede that shook the volcanic floor. Battle cries rang through the air as claws scraped stone, wings flapped, and the scramble for position began.
I watched, horrified, as my mother, Emberheart, sprinted toward a cluster of Enhanced Power Fruits thirty feet up the trunk. But she wasn't alone—Cinderfang of the Lavaforge family darted toward the same cluster, her crimson scales gleaming with lethal determination.
"That fruit is claimed for the Scorchclaw bloodline!" Emberheart roared.
"Then you'll have to prove it!" Cinderfang snapped, maternal fury blazing in her amber eyes.
They collided with a sound like boulders smashing together. Emberheart's size gave her an initial advantage, but Cinderfang's speed allowed her to roll under a swipe and rake her claws across my mother's flank. Dark blood streaked across her scales, yet Emberheart pressed forward, relentless.
"Mother!" I shouted, but the battle drowned my voice.
All around the tree, similar clashes erupted. The Forgefire matriarch fought a brutal three-way skirmish over a fruit, her scarred hide bearing fresh wounds. Three smaller mothers temporarily allied to drive off the larger Ironforge matriarch. Bark shattered as bodies collided, the air thick with blood, sweat, and primal determination. The sacred tree pulsed with energy, responding to every clash.
Emberheart broke free from Cinderfang's grip and lunged upward, her powerful legs propelling her toward the fruit. But Cinderfang was right behind, jaws snapping at her tail.
"You cannot have it!" Emberheart growled, clinging to the tree trunk. "I will not let my son wait another year!"
"Neither will I!" Cinderfang countered.
Both mothers unleashed intensifying flare energy, condensing deadly flame into air-melting fireballs.
"Oh no! Both mothers are about to incinerate the grove Father, stop them!" Sparkwing cried.
Then a roar unlike anything I had ever heard shook the Sacred Grove so deep and ancient it seemed to come from the world's very foundations. Every mother froze.
From the base of the Ragnarok Tree, an enormous form emerged. Not just another T-Rex, but something so colossal even the patriarchs seemed small by comparison.
The roar carried a command. Suddenly, every mother's fire-breathing vanished. Emberheart's flame sputtered to nothing. Cinderfang's too. All around the tree, mothers relying on fire for combat were stripped of their primary weapons.
"FOOLISH DAUGHTERS OF THE FLAME," the voice thundered from beneath the tree. "PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS THROUGH PRIMAL STRENGTH ALONE. TEETH. CLAWS. RAW POWER AND DETERMINATION. SHOW THE TRUE NATURE OF MATERNAL LOVE WITHOUT THE CRUTCH OF FLAME!"
For a heartbeat, the grove was silent, save for heavy breathing and the faint hum of ripened fruits. Then, the battles resumed with even greater ferocity. Deprived of fire, mothers fought with brutal physicality, relying on claws, teeth, and sheer willpower.
Emberheart lunged at Cinderfang, jaws aiming for her throat, claws raking scales. Cinderfang rolled, tail smashing into Emberheart, sending her into the tree trunk and shaking loose smaller fruits. Emberheart recovered instantly, snapping the next tail swipe in her jaws, drawing blood.
"Yield!" Emberheart snarled, teeth locked on Cinderfang's tail.
"Never!" Cinderfang bit into Emberheart's shoulder, jaws straining.
Around them, battles escalated. The Forgefire matriarch grappled a rival midair, claws and teeth scoring each other thirty feet above the volcanic floor. A smaller Ashclaw mother wisely claimed a lesser fruit, sparing her child the wait. But no one else settled—premium fruits demanded carnage.
Emberheart finally overpowered Cinderfang, twisting and using her size to fling her backward. She lunged for the fruit, claws closing around it just as another smaller mother reached for it. Both hung from the branch, weight creaking ominously.
"Let go!" the smaller mother snarled.
"So does mine. Go away, thief!" Emberheart snapped, raking across her opponent's snout. Painful blood streaks forced the rival to release the fruit. Victory was hers.
But victory came at a cost. Emberheart descended, claws carefully gripping the fruit. Her flanks were scored with deep claw marks, her left ear torn, fresh bites along her neck. Every movement screamed pain, yet her will remained unbroken.
"Mama," I whispered, voice thick with guilt and gratitude.
She set the glowing fruit gently before me. Amber eyes bright despite exhaustion, she nuzzled me with her bloodied snout.
"These are the scars of love, little flame," she murmured. "Every mother bears them gladly."
Around us, the battles wound down. Mothers who succeeded stood proudly with their hard-won fruits; those who failed sat dejected, their wounds secondary to disappointment. Elder Pyrothane observed, eyes centuries-deep with approval.
"Those who have claimed the fruits," he rumbled, "feed your children with the sacred taste. Begin the awakening ritual."