The high-grade Sacred Flame Fruit sat before me like a golden sun made solid, its surface pulsing with inner light that seemed to call to something deep in my bones.
Even after witnessing the brutal battles my mother had endured to claim it, I still struggled to accept that such a mystical treasure was meant for me.
"Go ahead, little flame," Emberheart whispered. Her voice was strained but warm with maternal love. "You are the youngest—so you eat first."
Now that the adrenaline of battle had faded, I finally saw the full extent of her injuries. Four deep claw marks tore across her left flank, dark blood still seeping between her scales. One ear hung at an unnatural angle, nearly torn off. Bite wounds circled her neck like a collar of scars yet to form. Every movement she made was precise and quiet, as if her body was screaming in agony that she refused to acknowledge.
"Mama… you're hurt so badly," I said, guilt tightening my throat. "All this pain…"
"Hush," she replied firmly, nudging the glowing fruit closer with her snout. "This is what mothers do. Eat now—before the ripeness fades."
"No, Mother!" Blazefang stepped forward. "I am the eldest of the three. I should consume it first."
"I will be the first to awaken, Mother," Infernotail countered, his tone sharp as steel.
The two of them immediately began arguing over who should eat first.
"Enough!" Mother commanded, her tone brooking no defiance. "Rider is the youngest. He will eat the fruit first. As for you two—stop squabbling over scraps. Once my strength returns, I will claim another."
"I don't mind if Infernotail eats first—but not him," Blazefang muttered, shooting me a sneer.
Father silenced them with a glare. "Your mother bled for those fruits while you stood watching. Keep quiet and listen."
After that, neither of them dared speak. They only glared at me, their eyes burning with envy and frustration.
I lifted the fruit carefully, surprised by its weight. Though only slightly larger than the standard kind, it felt impossibly dense—like starlight compressed into flesh.
The moment I bit into it, my world detonated with sensation. It was like drinking molten honey and fire at once, with hints of volcanic soil and blooming flame-flowers. The juice seared down my throat, and warmth erupted through every limb, making each scale thrum with energy.
By the time I finished the final bite, power surged through my body so intensely I had to fight to remain standing. Something deep within me stirred—something ancient and sleeping—on the brink of waking.
"Any moment now," Sparkwing murmured reassuringly. "Sacred Flame Fruits usually trigger awakening within minutes."
All around the Sacred Grove, other wyrmlings were beginning to transform. Their triumphant roars echoed across the stone seats as their bodies strengthened and their abilities awakened.
But minutes passed—and nothing happened to me.
"I don't understand," I whispered, panic creeping in as the fruit's energy began to fade without triggering anything. "Why isn't it working?"
Emberheart's expression hardened with resolve. Despite her wounds, she pushed herself to her feet.
"There are still unclaimed fruits," she said grimly, scanning the sacred tree. "If one isn't enough, I'll gather another—for you, and for your brothers."
"Mama, no," I protested as dread rose in my chest. "You're already wounded. You don't need to—"
"I need to see my son awaken," she snarled, cutting me off. "If one fruit fails, we try again."
Before anyone could stop her, Emberheart charged back toward the sacred tree, where two mothers from minor families were locked in battle over a lower-grade Sacred Flame Fruit.
Her arrival struck like lightning—sudden, violent, unstoppable.
"That fruit belongs to the Scorchclaw bloodline!" she roared, colliding with both opponents at once.
The ground trembled under her charge. Her claws ripped deep furrows in the volcanic soil as her jaws clamped down on one mother's neck with a thunderous crack, hurling her aside. The impact sent molten leaves spiraling from the branches like burning petals.
The second mother lashed out, her tail sweeping low in a crushing strike. Emberheart caught the blow with her own tail—both limbs colliding mid-swing with a sound like shattering stone. She lunged forward, bit into her rival's shoulder, and wrenched violently. Flesh tore; blood sprayed the sacred roots in red arcs.
The air reeked of iron and smoke. Roars shook the Grove as the combatants clashed again in raw, primal fury.
Already injured and exhausted, Emberheart fought with nothing but sheer will and a mother's rage to overpower opponents less wounded than herself.
I watched in horror as fresh wounds split across her hide—another bite to her shoulder, claws raking down her spine, a gash across her snout spilling blood into her eye.
But she did not yield.
With a desperate final strike, she slammed her skull into her foe's chest, sending the rival mother crashing through the branches. Emberheart seized the glowing fruit in her jaws and released a blood-choked roar that shook the canopy.
"Second fruit," she panted as she returned, each step unsteady. "Two more high-grade ones remain. All three of my children will awaken."
Her eyes turned upward. In the highest branches hung two radiant fruits that mothers had been battling over for nearly an hour—the strongest of the Sacred Flame Fruits, glowing like captive stars.
"Move your jaws away from what belongs to the Scorchclaw bloodline," she whispered, and in her amber eyes flickered a madness born of love.
"Emberheart, rest first!" Scorchclaw called, finally realizing her intent. "You're too injured. It's suicide!"
She ignored him.
Moving with pain that would have crippled others, she began climbing toward the highest clash in the sacred tree, where mothers of the Steelclaw and Fury families still fought over the last high-grade fruits.
---
What followed was the most brutal battle I had ever seen.
My mother, already torn and bleeding from two previous fights, hurled herself into combat against two of the fiercest mothers in the entire Flame Forest.
The earth shook beneath their roars. The sacred trunk splintered under the strikes of their tails. Each clash of claws sent sparks flying like flaming rain.
Emberheart struck first—her jaws locked around the Steelclaw mother's forelimb, bone crunching with a sickening crack before she tore free. The Fury mother slammed her massive skull into Emberheart's ribcage, forcing her back.
Blood poured from the high branches like a crimson waterfall.
Fresh wounds split open across her already ruined body—deep gashes that exposed bone, bites that pierced through muscle, claw marks that carved new scars across her once-beautiful face.
"Stop!" I screamed, tears streaming down my scaled cheeks. "Mama, stop! It's not worth it!"
But she could not hear me over her own roars—roars born not from anger, but from a love molten enough to burn through fear, pride, and pain.
This was maternal will turned to violence—instinct made monstrous and holy.
---
When the final high-grade Sacred Flame Fruit dropped into her blood-soaked jaws, both of her opponents lay unconscious among the shattered branches.
Emberheart herself was barely standing, her entire body swaying as she clung to the trunk with claws slicked in her own blood.
"Third and fourth fruits," she whispered as she staggered down toward me.
Her once-radiant scales were now a tapestry of wounds and scars. Both ears were torn and bleeding. Claw marks covered her from snout to tail like some grim painting etched in crimson. One eye was swollen shut, and every step she took looked like it might be her last.
"Mama…" I choked, tears blurring my vision. "Look at yourself. Look how much you're hurting."
"Eat the fruit," she whispered. Even speaking seemed to tear something inside her. "Eat it… and awaken. Make this worth it."