The Sacred Fruit
As the echoes of the flame ritual faded across the Sacred Grove, all eyes turned toward the magnificently glowing fruits hanging on the eternal Ragnarok flame tree.
"For the second phase of the ritual, we wait until the sacred fruits are fully ripened," Pythrone announced. His ancient voice carried renewed reverence as he gestured toward the towering tree.
I followed his gaze upward, craning my neck to take in the full majesty before me.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground, I observed the Ragnarok tree carefully. It stretched nearly five hundred feet into the sky, its massive trunk scarred with the marks of countless harvests.
But it was the branches that took my breath away—hundreds of them extending in perfect symmetry, each one crowned with fruits that glowed as if they held fire within.
"The ripening has begun," Pythrone continued.
He was right. Some fruits still carried the dull bronze hue of unripe growth, but others had begun to glow with a golden radiance—soft, pulsing like a heartbeat, growing brighter with every passing moment.
"How long does it take for them to ripen?" I asked.
"The sacred fruits follow no mortal clock," Father replied. "Some mature within hours. Others may need the full day. But by sunset, all that are destined to ripen this season will reach their peak."
The air shifted around us. The competitive thrill of the first trial was gone, replaced by something deeper—heavier. It was the atmosphere of mothers preparing to fight for their children's futures.
Pythrone raised his voice once more.
"Before we begin the Sacred Vigil, let me explain the second ritual. I call it the Ritual of Maternal Guidance. In every wyrmling's growth, the mother's role cannot be ignored. Thus, in this trial, it is not the children who fight… but their mothers. When the fruits ripen, it will be the mothers who battle for the right to claim them for their children's awakening."
My jaw tightened. What? The mothers have to fight for the fruits?
I turned to my mother, and the sight made my chest ache. She was watching the tree with the focus of a predator, amber eyes sweeping across branches, evaluating, calculating. Every muscle in her body seemed poised for war.
"Mama," I whispered, stepping closer to her massive form. "You don't have to do this. If the fruits don't ripen properly, or if it's too dangerous—"
She turned, her gaze blazing with fierce love.
"Little flame," she said softly, "I would fight every mother in this grove if that's what it takes to give you your awakening. Don't worry, son. This isn't my first time earning scars for my children."
Her claw traced over faded battle marks across her scales.
"Every scar reminds me of the joy I felt, watching my children awaken."
"Mother is already experienced enough," Infernotail chimed in, his tone smug. "It's the duty of every mother to fight for her children. Don't you even know that much?"
My mother only laughed, brushing her claw over my hand with tenderness.
"Yes, my children. It's my duty. You three can relax. Last year, I claimed more than two fruits for your sister Emberpaw."
My heart skipped. Emberpaw.
Our third sister. I'd never met her—tribal law forbade it until juveniles evolved into hunters—but her name was legendary. She was said to carry the spirit of a leader, some even whispering that she, not a son, might one day lead the tribe.
Around us, similar conversations were taking place. Mothers spoke to their children with soothing words, but their eyes were sharp—measuring the tree, the fruits, and each other.
"Look at the variety," Sparkwing murmured, settling beside us. "At least five types of fruit from here alone."
I followed her gaze. She was right.
The Standard Awakening Fruits glowed with steady golden light, each the size of a T-Rex head. They were the most common, the baseline for awakening.
Higher in the branches hung the Enhanced Power Fruits—larger, brighter, their crimson radiance pulsing with raw strength.
The middle branches bore the Specialized Element Fruits, each glowing in unique colors that hinted at elemental affinities.
But it was the highest branches that held everyone's breath. The Master Awakening Fruits.
Enormous, twice the size of the standard kind, and so bright they were almost painful to look at. Only a dozen were visible in the entire canopy. Those fruits would ignite the fiercest battles.
"Those fruits," Chief Magmaroar murmured to another matriarch, "are said to grant not just awakening, but development that can leap over entire stages."
Her words were meant for the female T-Rex beside her—a warrior who, by sheer scale and scars, looked like the only true rival my mother would face.
"That must be Pallet's mother," I muttered. "Her posture is obedient… expected from the male-dominated Lavaforge family. Maybe Pallet is the only one bold enough to defy their rules."
As the sun climbed, tension thickened. Families carved out territories around the tree's base, invisible lines drawn for future clashes.
"The Forgefire matriarch looks formidable this year," Mother observed quietly, nodding toward a scarred female crouched low in battle-readiness. "She'll be after the Enhanced Fruits for her twin sons."
"And Cinderfang of the Lavaforge clan," Sparkwing added. "Look at her positioning. Three clusters within her reach. She's planning to claim more than one fruit… all for Pallet."
By afternoon, the spectacle became surreal.
Bronze fruits had turned golden. Enhanced ones beat with a fiery rhythm, like the tree itself was alive. And the Master Fruits glowed so brightly they cast shadows even under the blazing sun.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
"It's dangerous," Sparkwing corrected, though wonder laced her voice. "Each one of those fruits is a mother's promise—to risk everything for her child's future."
The grove bristled with anticipation. Mothers crouched, muscles coiled, eyes fixed on chosen targets.
And then, as twilight bled across the sky, the power of the tree surged. The very ground vibrated, as though rivers of molten fire flowed beneath us.
"The first fruits will be ready soon," Pyrothane's voice boomed, cutting through the charged silence. "Mothers, prepare yourselves. The Competition of Sacred Fruits begins at the moment of full ripeness."
I looked at Mother, memorizing every detail—her determined stance, her scales shimmering in the mystical glow, her eyes locked on a cluster of fruits that would decide my fate.
"I love you, Mama," I whispered.
Without looking away from her target, she answered, firm and resolute.
"I love you too, little flame. And I will make sure you get your chance to show this world exactly what you're capable of."
Above us, the first Awakening Fruit flared with blinding brilliance.
The sign of complete ripeness.
Dozens of mothers tensed in unison, ready to fight the battle of their lives.