Three nights had passed since my failed attempt to communicate with the Ragnarok Tree.
On one side burned the relentless urge gnawing at my heart the need to feel that divine presence again. On the other loomed fear
the fear that if patrols caught me, whatever shred of dignity I had left would be reduced to ash.
"I can't take this anymore," I whispered into the darkness of my sleeping hollow. "I have to try again… no matter the consequences."
The decision wasn't born from courage only desperation.
Living as a failure felt worse than dying under punishment. If the Flame Spirit could help me awaken, then I would pay any price it demanded.
So I waited for the deepest hour of the night, when even the winds seemed to sleep. Patrols thinned, shadows ruled the forest, and the flames of distant camps dimmed to embers.
Then I slipped away from my family's cave, every movement deliberate, every breath a secret.
The journey felt endless. Each rustle of leaves became a threat. Discovery would mean not just my ruin but disgrace for the entire Scorchclaw line.
This time, I went alone.
Pallet wouldn't suffer for my recklessness again. If I failed, the blame would be mine alone.
My violet scales offered a strange blessing under the starlit canopy shadows embraced me like an ally. I crawled behind molten-red trunks, squeezed through thorny undergrowth, and paused a dozen times at the faintest sound before I finally reached the Sacred Grove.
It was empty.
No guards. No patrols. Just silence the lazy negligence of fate granting me one more chance.
The Flame Spirit Tree loomed before me in solemn grandeur, its colossal frame crowned with embered leaves. Countless scorch marks patterned its trunk the very history of Pyrothia carved into its living bark.
"Great Flame Spirit," I whispered, bowing low. "I am Rider Rex of the Scorchclaw family. I come in desperation, seeking aid no other can give."
Silence.
The tree stood motionless beneath the stars cold, ancient, indifferent.
"I know you heard me before," I said, pressing a claw against the bark. "You noticed me. You responded. Please… I need you now more than ever."
Still nothing. No flicker. No pulse. Not even warmth.
"I've failed at everything else," I murmured, voice trembling. "I devoured two awakening fruits — both wasted. My mother fought three brutal battles for those fruits, and I squandered every drop of her sacrifice. Please… help me."
Memories stabbed deeper than claws her torn ear, bleeding flank, and weary eyes filled with love she never voiced.
Scars she would bear forever… all because she believed in me.
I pressed my forehead against the bark, trembling.
"Every wound she suffered, every drop of blood she spilled meaningless. All wasted on a son unworthy of the name Tyrannosaurus Rex."
The grove stayed still. Even the insects seemed to hold their breath. My voice echoed against the silence like a confession no god wished to hear.
"Please…" I begged, my throat raw. "I'll pay any price. I'll sacrifice anything. Just let me awaken."
Still nothing.
No voice. No glow. No flame.
Maybe the spirit rejected me too.
A bitter laugh escaped me. " How shameless guardian you are. stood here for millennia, drinking our soil, hoarding your divine fire and you can't even help one desperate wyrmling?"
Desperation turned to frustration. I clawed the bark, licked it, even kicked it like a stubborn rock.
"Useless," I muttered. "Pallet was right. This is all meaningless."
I turned to leave.
Then paused.
Something reckless stirred — a thought so idiotic it might actually make the gods notice me.
I looked back at the sacred trunk. "If this works, I'll die from shame…"
I lifted a leg.
Spray. Spray.
Warm liquid splashed against the divine bark.
Mortification flooded through me. I was desecrating the holiest tree of our kind the very heart of our civilization.
If anyone saw this, even my ashes wouldn't survive the punishment.
I turned away instantly, face burning. About to run away
BOOM!
The world exploded.
Fire roared through the grove as the Flame Spirit Tree erupted into life. Its branches blazed with colors beyond mortal sight not red or orange, but molten starlight, like galaxies collapsing into flame.
The air turned molten. My skin prickled but the heat didn't hurt. It embraced me instead, sinking through flesh into soul.
"What what's happening?!" I gasped, stumbling back as spirals of flame coiled around me like living serpents.
From the roots, fire surged upward, forming a perfect circle around me. The symbols within the flames twisted, alive, rewriting themselves like a divine script.
Then came the sound a laugh.
Ancient.
Amused.
Awake.
The Flame Spirit had stirred.
The circle of fire rose, curving into a dome that sealed me from the outside world. The grove, the sky, the stars gone.
Only me and the primordial inferno remained.
I couldn't flee.
I couldn't hide.
spark of a miracle.
And as the flames coiled closer, wrapping me in their cosmic warmth,
Should I cry in shame… or laugh?