The sound of deep, rumbling voices stirred me from slumber, echoing like distant thunder rolling through the edge of my dreams.
Through the dim glow of lava-light that filtered across the cavern walls, I saw the colossal silhouettes of my parents. They moved with the slow majesty of ancient titans commanding the dawn. Fragments of their hushed conversation floated through the air like fragile whispers, heavy enough to cut through the calm.
"…too early to tell if he's truly delayed…" Emberheart's voice carried sharp worry, slicing like a blade through the stillness of morning.
"…give him time, beloved. Some wyrmlings bloom later than others…" Scorchclaw's tone was patient, thoughtful, steady—like a mountain unmoved by storms, weighing the rhythm of changing seasons.
I kept my eyes mostly closed, listening quietly. A habit from my human life, one that followed me into this new existence like luggage brought to an unexpected destination. Of course, they were speaking about me. And each word of concern twisted inside my tiny stomach, knotting my insides tighter and tighter.
"But at his age, Blazefang was already producing proper flame sparks. Why is he lacking?" Emberheart pressed, her tone like a mother comparing her child to unreachable standards. "And Infernotail could roar loud enough to shake the cave walls. Rider Rex barely manages faint wisps of smoke."
"Perhaps it is because he is not—" Scorchclaw stopped, sighing deeply, catching his tongue before revealing a word that carried too much weight. "Forget it. Stop worrying. Look at it from another side. He is more intellectual than most wyrmlings of his age. Developmental delay or not, he is ours—and that matters more than any flame."
Different. There it was again. That word hovered in the air like a shadow that never faded, stamping itself across my identity like a mark of otherness I could never erase.
"Rise and shine, little brother!" Sparkwing's voice boomed through the cavern, cutting through my thoughts like an earthquake of pure energy. She bounded over, her amber eyes blazing with excitement, her grin glowing like dawn itself. Small puffs of smoke puffed from her nostrils like playful chimneys greeting the day. "It's training day!"
I blinked awake to her looming face, bright as twin suns celebrating morning.
"Training day?" I asked, stretching out my limbs—and pausing when I noticed the tiny flaps along my back. Not quite wings, but hints of what might someday soar. Promises whispered by the future.
"Every third day is training day for wyrmlings," Sparkwing declared, stepping back with dancer-like grace. "Mama and Papa teach us the skills needed to survive and thrive as proper T-Rex."
"What kind of skills?" I asked, though dread already gnawed at my insides like a student facing an exam unprepared.
"Fire-breathing, hunting stances, territorial calls, prey tracking," Blazefang announced, strutting past like a peacock wrapped in polished crimson armor. His perfect scales gleamed like forged steel in the firelight. "Basic stuff any wyrmling should know."
The emphasis on any wyrmling stung—a blade hidden in his words.
"Come along, little flame," Emberheart called, her voice warm yet firm, a soft embrace wrapped in maternal strength. "Time to see what you're capable of."
---
The training chamber lay deeper in the cave complex, hidden like an ancient colosseum carved by nature itself. High ceilings stretched overhead, and the walls bore layers of carved ledges like an amphitheater sculpted from living stone.
Scorch marks scarred every surface—battle wounds left behind from countless generations learning to master fire. Pools of different temperatures dotted the floor like bubbling hot springs, while fire-resistant training dummies stood guard like silent sentinels awaiting their trials.
As I stepped inside, I noticed another towering figure waiting.
"Rider," Sparkwing whispered near my ear, voice playful. "Meet big sister… Emberdance."
She was stunning—even by T-Rex standards. Her body was leaner than Father's and Mother's, built not for brute force but for speed and precision, like evolution's finest racecraft. Her silver-red scales shimmered like liquid metal under the lava-light, and her amber eyes gleamed with predator sharpness, twin daggers that missed nothing.
"So this is the wyrmling with unusual coloring," Emberdance said, circling me like a scholar examining a rare specimen. "Interesting. Your scales may grant better camouflage in certain terrain."
Her words made my heart flicker with relief. Perhaps my difference wasn't a curse—it might even be an advantage. At least this sister wasn't cruel like my brothers.
"Surprised by your sister's beauty?" Sparkwing teased with a rumbling laugh, thunder enjoying its own joke. "Too late, she already has a mate. Same with me. Don't worry, though—you still have another sister, more gorgeous than both of us. Trouble is, she's a training fanatic. If she falls for your charm, you're lucky—dinosaur custom allows siblings to marry to preserve bloodlines."
Her teasing left me awkward and startled. Learning dinosaur traditions felt like discovering alien rules written into my life.
"Now then," Emberheart's commanding voice rose, silencing chatter like a conductor raising her baton. "Let's begin. Blazefang, demonstrate proper fire-breathing for your younger brother."
"Why should I? Shouldn't instincts handle that?" Blazefang muttered, unwilling to perform.
But under Mother's molten glare, he obeyed like an actor dragged onto the stage. He struck a perfect stance—legs spread, neck arched like a drawn bow, head angled precisely. His chest expanded with a deep inhale. A glow ignited within his throat like a piston firing inside a furnace.
Flames erupted from his jaws, blazing liquid sunlight that stretched nearly fifteen feet before fading into shimmering waves of heat.
"Excellent form," Emberheart praised, nodding. "Infernotail, your turn."
Infernotail's fire came raw and uncontrolled. It burned shorter but hotter, the center shimmering with dangerous blue—a temperature that could melt stone itself.
"Good intensity," Emberheart acknowledged. "Control will come."
Then came my turn. All eyes focused on me like a hundred spotlights converging on a single trembling performer.
I mimicked my brothers' stance, awkward but determined. Inhaling deeply, I felt warmth coil in my chest like a newborn star. Holding it… three seconds… then exhale with all intent.
Only faint wisps of purple smoke escaped, curling like shy ghosts vanishing into air.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"That's… something," Emberheart said carefully, her voice a diplomat balancing across blades.
"Is smoke supposed to be purple?" Infernotail muttered.
"Never seen it," Emberdance admitted, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Purple flame implies a different combustion entirely…"
"Enough," Emberheart cut in, ending speculation. "First attempts often fail. He'll learn. Now, Emberdance—show them hunting stances."
Hunting went no better. My brothers moved like predators born to the dance, their bodies flowing with perfect grace. I stumbled, arms flailing uselessly, tail dragging like a serpent refusing to obey.
"Lower your center," Emberdance instructed. "Stability first."
I tried—but toppled like a tree felled at its roots. Blazefang's laugh stung sharper than claws.
"Maybe he isn't built for hunting," he mocked. "Some T-Rex are fit for… lesser roles. Nest-tending. Cave cleaning."
"Enough," Sparkwing cut in, steel in her voice. "Every wyrmling has strengths. Rider Rex's lie elsewhere."
"Like what?" Blazefang sneered.
"Intelligence," she countered firmly. "His questions and observations exceed most at his age."
It was true. My human mind still worked beneath this body, analyzing, observing, learning.
"Brains won't save him in battle," Blazefang spat.
"Intelligence has won more wars than brute force ever has," rumbled Father's immense voice from the cavern floor. It rolled like thunder across stone, silencing everything.
Blazefang and Infernotail lowered their heads, cowed by authority older and deeper than their arrogance.
The session dragged on. My roar cracked pitifully compared to my brothers' booming calls. My tracking fared better, though, as my eyes caught details others missed—like a detective uncovering hidden clues.
When the family dispersed, Emberheart beckoned me gently. "Walk with me, little one."
She led me into a hidden chamber, a shrine carved into living stone. Walls told stories of our kind—stone tablets etched with flames, battles, triumphs.
One carving stopped me cold: T-Rex breathing colored flames—blue, green, and even purple, blazing across the rock like rainbow fire.
"Purple…" I whispered.
Emberheart nodded solemnly. "Few in history carried flames beyond crimson. They were different. Misunderstood in youth. Yet they became leaders—flames so mighty they split skies and crushed mountains."
"Leaders… like Father, ruler of the tribe?" I asked, hope blooming inside me.
Her eyes softened, pride and sadness entwined. "Being different is not being lesser, Rider Rex. A rose is not flawed because it isn't a daisy. Sometimes, different means destined for greatness."
"Do you believe that for me?" I asked, voice trembling with hope.
"I am certain," she whispered, her words like bedrock beneath my feet.