Chapter 15: The Price of Awakening
The high-grade Sacred Flame Fruit sat before me like a golden sun captured in solid form, 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 could barely comprehend that this mystical treasure was meant for me.
"Go ahead, little flame," Emberheart whispered, her voice strained but filled with maternal love. "You are the youngest, so you eat first."
I could see the extent of her injuries now that the adrenaline of battle had faded. Four parallel claw marks scored deep furrows along her left flank, dark blood still seeping between her scales. Her torn ear hung at an awkward angle, and bite marks on her neck formed a necklace of wounds that would leave permanent scars.
Every movement she made was careful and controlled, as if her body was screaming with pain that she refused to acknowledge.
"Mama, you're hurt so badly," I said, my voice thick with guilt. "All this pain..."
"Hush," she replied firmly, nudging the glowing fruit closer to me with her snout. "This is what mothers do. Now eat, before the ripeness begins to fade."
"No, Mother!" Blazefang protested, stepping forward. "I am the older one out of three. I should consume it first."
"No, I will be the first to eat and awaken, Mother," Infernotail argued, matching his brother's intensity.
Both of them began to fight over who would eat first.
"Stop!" Mother said firmly. "Rider is the youngest. He will eat the fruit first. As for both of you, stop fighting over little things. Once my exhaustion relieves a little bit, I am going to claim another fruit."
"I am okay if Infernotail consumes first, but not him," Blazefang sneered.
Father gave us a stern look. "It's your mother who scarred herself for those fruits while you were lazily watching the show, so keep quiet and listen to her."
After Father's command, both of them had no courage to speak and could only stare at me with jealousy and anger.
I smiled and lifted the fruit carefully, surprised by its weight. Despite being only slightly larger than the standard variety, it felt dense with concentrated energy, as if starlight had been compressed into solid form.
The moment I bit into it, my entire world exploded with sensation. It was like tasting liquid fire and honey simultaneously, with undertones of volcanic earth and blooming flame-flowers.
The juice that ran down my throat carried warmth that spread through my entire body, making every scale tingle with awakening energy.
As I finished the last bite, energy surged through my body with such intensity that I had to fight to remain upright. Every cell seemed to vibrate with potential, and I could feel something stirring deep in my core—something that had been sleeping and was now beginning to wake.
"Any moment now," Sparkwing murmured encouragingly. "Sacred Flame Fruits typically trigger awakening within minutes of consumption."
Around the Sacred Grove, other wyrmlings who had consumed their fruits were beginning to show signs of transformation. Their joyful roars echoed across the amphitheater as their bodies grew and their abilities expanded.
But minutes passed, and nothing happened to me.
"I don't understand," I whispered desperately, feeling the energy from the fruit beginning to fade without triggering any awakening. "Why isn't it working?"
Emberheart's expression grew determined, and despite her obvious pain, she struggled to her feet.
"There are still unclaimed fruits," she said grimly, her amber eyes scanning the sacred tree. "Maybe one fruit is not enough for you. It's okay, my child. I can pluck extra fruits while having some for your brothers."
"Mama, no," I protested, seeing her intention. "You're already hurt. You don't need to"
"I need to get my son awakened," she interrupted fiercely. "And if one fruit isn't enough, then we'll try another."
Before anyone could stop her, Emberheart launched herself back toward the sacred tree, where two mothers from smaller families were locked in combat over one of the lower-grade Sacred Flame Fruits.
Her entrance into the battle was like a lightning strike sudden, violent, and overwhelming.
"That fruit belongs to the Scorchclaw bloodline!" she roared, her massive form crashing into both opponents simultaneously.
The ground trembled beneath her charge. Her claws gouged deep trenches in the volcanic soil as her jaws snapped like a thunderclap, clamping down on one mother's neck and hurling her aside. The impact shook the nearby branches, sending molten leaves spiraling through the air.
The second mother lunged, her tail sweeping low in a crushing arc. Emberheart countered with her own—two titanic tails collided mid-swing, the sound like cracking stone. She followed up with a forward lunge, jaws locking onto her rival's shoulder and twisting violently. Flesh tore; hot blood sprayed in red arcs across the sacred roots.
The air was thick with the scent of iron and ash. Roars rolled like thunder across the Grove as the combatants clashed again, their massive bodies crashing together in raw, primal fury.
Already wounded and exhausted, Emberheart was forced to rely on pure determination and maternal rage to overcome opponents who were fresher and less injured.
I watched in horror as new wounds opened across her hide—a savage bite to her shoulder, claw marks down her spine, a gash across her snout that sent blood flowing into her eyes.
But she refused to yield.
With a final surge of desperate strength, she rammed her skull into her foe's chest, the impact sending the rival mother tumbling through shattered branches. Emberheart seized the glowing fruit in her jaws and let out a victorious, blood-choked roar that shook the trees.
"Second fruit," she panted as she returned to our family group, now visibly struggling with her accumulated injuries. "Two more of the high-grade Sacred Flame Fruits must be captured to awaken all three of my children."
Her eyes had fixed on something high in the sacred tree's canopy—two radiant fruits hanging together that other mothers had been fighting over for nearly an hour.
The most powerful of all Sacred Flame Fruits, glowing like captured stars among the highest branches.
"Move away your jaws from fruits that belong to my Scorchclaw bloodline," she whispered, and I saw madness born of maternal love in her amber eyes.
"Emberheart, first have some rest," Scorchclaw called out, finally understanding what she intended to do. "You're too injured. It's too dangerous!"
She ignored Father's words.
With movements that spoke of pain beyond description, she began climbing toward the highest battle in the sacred tree, where mothers from the Steelclaw and Fury families had been locked in vicious combat for the final high-grade fruits.
---
What followed was the most brutal battle I had ever witnessed.
My mother, already severely wounded from two previous fights, threw herself into combat against two of the strongest mothers in the entire T-Rex community.
The world shook beneath their roars. The tree trunk splintered under the impact of their tails. Each clash of claws sent showers of sparks cascading down like fiery rain.
Emberheart bit first—her jaws closed around the Steelclaw mother's forelimb, bone crunching audibly before she released with a violent jerk. But the Fury mother retaliated, slamming her massive skull into Emberheart's flank, forcing her back a step.
Blood rained down from the high branches as the battle raged like a crimson waterfall.
I could see new wounds opening on Emberheart's already damaged body—deep gashes that laid her ribs bare, bite marks that punched through scale and into muscle, claw strikes that left permanent scars across her beautiful face.
"Stop!" I screamed, tears streaming down my scaled cheeks. "Mama, please stop! It's not worth it!"
But she couldn't hear me over the sounds of her own battle cries as she fought with strength that came from somewhere beyond physical capability.
This was pure maternal will made manifest—love transformed into violence that defied every consideration of safety or survival.
---
When the final high-grade Sacred Flame Fruit finally fell into her bloodied jaws, both her opponents lay unconscious on the branches below her.
Emberheart herself was barely conscious, her massive form swaying dangerously as she clung to the tree trunk with claws slick with her own blood.
"Third and fourth fruits," she whispered as she somehow made her way down to where I waited.
Her beautiful scales were now a map of wounds and scars. Both ears were torn and bleeding. Claw marks crisscrossed her entire body like some horrific artwork painted in blood and pain. One eye was swollen shut, and she moved with the careful, measured gait of someone whose body had been pushed far beyond its limits.
"Mama," I sobbed, "look what you've done to yourself. Look how much you're hurting."
"Eat the fruit," she whispered, and I could hear the exhaustion in her voice—the way each word came out as if speaking itself was agony. "Eat it and awaken. Make this worth it."