Three moon cycles passed before Idalia even realized.

  The world had changed so quietly around her that she only noticed when the volcanic winds no longer burned her nose and the ash no longer stung her eyes. The seasons in the caldera were strange, shifting in light more than in color, but she could tell time had gone by. Her paws had grown stronger, her claws sharper, and her reflection in the lava pools seemed less cub and more hunter.

  She had changed more than outward, but inward as well. She grown in all aspects. From Development (5) to (11). The runes told her how far she'd come.

  ???

  [Idalia's Stats]

  (Development: Lv 11)

  [Raw Values]

  STR: 32 [+10]

  DEF: 24 [+3]

  FPWR: 24

  WIL: 24 [+4]

  RES: 21

  SPD: 22 [+3]

  ??? ??? ???

  [Accumalated Particles]:

  {15,100 | 20,000}

  Spent = [-2000 Particles]

  Distributable = [151 Points]

  ??? ??? ???

  But her heart still ached every time she thought of her Papa.

  He had left that day with his proud stride, tail flicking in calm confidence, to face the Phantom Carnotaurs that threatened the eastern border. She still remembered his voice, rumbling like gentle thunder as he'd told her, "You'll watch after your mother, won't you, little star?"

  He had never come back.

  Not because he was slain. Not in Idalia's mind. She knew he was alive, somewhere.

  Thanks to lightning boy's interpretations, the stories that drifted among the Wanderans outside the Pride's borders told of a group that captured beasts, taming monsters for their own designs.

  They had been seen near the Carnotaur fields, leading great scaled things on chains of light. Idalia's heart refused to believe anything else. Her Papa had been taken, not lost.

  But her Mama… her Mama had already buried him in her heart.

  Idalia didn't understand it at first. Her Mama would sit in the same spot each sunrise, eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing. She would nibble once or twice at the food Lyrawinn brought, then leave the rest untouched.

  When Idalia nudged her, she only smiled faintly—one of those smiles that hurt to look at—and said, "You're growing so strong, little one."

  That saddened gaze. It scared Idalia more than any Troodon or Carnotaur ever had.

  She had gone to the tribe's shaman—Auntie Quantumoon—for answers. The elder Liorex had fur like silver moss and eyes always half-glowing with rune-light. Idalia remembered sitting in front of her, tail curled anxiously.

  "What's wrong with Mama? She doesn't… move right. Or talk right."

  Quantumoon had breathed softly, her whiskers twitching. "Your mother carries sadness, little one. Not the kind that bleeds, but the kind that eats the mind and heart together."

  Idalia hadn't understood then. But as the moons passed, she began to notice the way Mama would sigh in her sleep, the tremble in her breath, the way she avoided looking toward the eastern hills.

  So Idalia stayed close. Most of the time.

  Lyrawinn helped, too.

  The great golden Liorex had taken to training Idalia each dawn, insisting that strength of body built strength of spirit. Idalia grew under her fierce guidance—learning how to strike faster, see deeper, read the dimensions before it moved. And in between each blow, each spar, there were moments of laughter, moments of quiet understanding. Lyrawinn had become more than a mentor. She had become something like an older sister. The steady one who always reminded Idalia that pride was more than just power.

  Still… there were nights when Idalia would sneak away.

  She didn't mean to disobey. Not really. But the pull toward the volcanic fields was too strong. And the strange boy, Kelix, as she later learned, was always there.

  The first few meetings had been awkward. He never said much, just offered her food he had cooked with lightning and sat in silence, sometimes watching the horizon as if expecting something—or someone—to arrive. But as time went on, the silence became comfortable.

  She started asking questions, though Kelix rarely answered them directly.

  "Where are you from?"

  "Somewhere east."

  "Why do you talk like us?"

  "Because it's easier than teaching you mine."

  "Why do you fight like lightning?"

  "Because fire's too slow."

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Simple answers, all clipped and vague, but they only deepened her curiosity.

  He seemed lonely, even when he hid it behind his calm, unreadable expression. Idalia sometimes caught him tracing odd marks on the ground with his finger. They were symbols that looked like broken runes, half-familiar but warped in ways she couldn't read.

  Once, she asked him what they meant.

  "Stories," he'd said. "Ones that don't belong here anymore."

  She didn't press. She just sat near him, chewing roasted Troodon and pretending she understood.

  One night, as molten clouds reflected starlight in the distance, he finally told her his name.

  They were sitting on the ledge outside his cave, lightning bugs skittering through the air like living sparks.

  Idalia had been mid-bite, grumbling about how Lyrawinn kept making her practice balance on floating rocks again.

  The boy had chuckled quietly, a sound like static caught in wind. Then, without looking at her, he said, "Kelix."

  She blinked. "What?"

  "My name," he said simply. "You keep calling me lightning boy. It's Kelix."

  She swallowed, tail flicking. "Kelix. Huh." She chewed the sound like it was food. "Weird name."

  [Knowledge Core [E]: 98% → 100%]

  [Knowledge Core [D]: 1%]

  [Development! Core (Rank D) reached!]

  Idalia grinned at the achievement, probably more toward learning more about her new friend.

  Meanwhile Kelix had smirked faintly. "Yours isn't?"

  Idalia puffed her chest. "Mine means 'bright one who leaps between worlds.' Yours sounds like a hiccup."

  Kelix laughed, really laughed, for the first time since she'd met him. It was a short sound, rough and bright, but it lit the cavern more than any lightning could.

  She pretended not to smile back.

  And so the moons turned, one after another, in the strange rhythm of their secret companionship. Lyrawinn trained her. Mama slept more. Quantumoon watched quietly. And in the far volcanic fields, Idalia shared meals with a boy made of thunder, still dreaming of the day she would find her Papa and drag him home, no matter what tamer or monster stood in her way.

  That was when her first group hunt with the other kits began. Alpha Pawail let out a commanding roar that rolled through the valley and summoned every Liorex within earshot.

  Hunt Captains, Claw Marshals, Trail Wardens, Fangborn, and even the humble Toothlings gathered at the Grand Summit Cliff, where Alpha Pawail loomed like a very dramatic mountain.

  Today marked the kits' selection day. Idalia's tail wagged so hard it could've powered a volcanic explosion. Oh stars! This was it! Her promotion to Toothling status was finally within reach. She'd earned it fair and square by snagging tooth-fang rights, and once Gramps gave his approval, she'd finally stand paw-to-paw with the older cubs like Lyrawinn.

  But something didn't feel right. When Idalia looked at Lyrawinn now, she didn't see a fellow cub. Lyrawinn stood proud and regal, her scales gleaming and that great curved horn on her nose shining like it knew it was important. She looked almost elder-like, which was unfair because Idalia was only slightly less majestic.

  By the blazing sphere, Lyrawinn might even be promoted to Fangborn today! That would be amazing. And fine. Totally fine. She deserved it. Probably. Idalia snickered.

  Then something flickered before Idalia's eyes, breaking her thoughts. She didn't expect to see it again, but there it was.

  The thing only she could see.

  No. She was not just like the others. The words made her claws itch. She wanted to bite them, claw them, and maybe throw them into a lava pit for good measure.

  She might have grown to be six moon cycles, give or take, but she wanted to become something more than a Leotyrex. Something greater.

  Her claws almost swiped the interface away, but before she could, a shoulder bumped hers.

  She turned to see Pyrokit standing beside her, a paw taller and grinning like he'd just stolen the last piece of meteor meat. Then his twin sister, Pyrakit, appeared on Idalia's other side, giving her ear a quick, affectionate lick.

  "Morning, sparkbrains," Idalia said, trying to sound unimpressed, though her tail betrayed her by wagging.

  Pyrokit puffed up his chest. "Morning, future Toothling."

  Pyrakit giggled. "More like future trip hazard. You tripped over your own tail again last night."

  "I was practicing tail agility!" Idalia protested. "Very advanced technique. You wouldn't understand."

  Pyrokit grinned. "Oh sure, the legendary stumble-roll. Masters only."

  They snickered together, their laughter mixing with the the settlement's snarls, snorts, and the clatter of scales against stone.

  All around, Liorex cubs stretched, yawned, and sharpened their claws. The smell of sizzling magma rodents and roasted glimmercrab filled the air, wafting from the morning heatwave.

  It didn't feel like a day of destiny, not yet. It just felt... normal. The kind of morning where the ground was warm, the sky was gold, and everything was simple for a moment.

  "Think Alpha Pawail's gonna make us chase another lightning hare?" Pyrokit asked, tilting his head toward the cliffs.

  Pyrakit groaned. "Not again. My tail was smoking for hours last time."

  "Hey, that's what makes you look cool!" Idalia said. "Charred edges. Battle style."

  They fell into an easy rhythm. One with light teasing, tail bumps, and talk of nothing important.

  For all her big dreams of evolution and destiny, Idalia loved this part the most. Breakfast with her pack. The warmth of her friends beside her. The silly things they said before the serious things began.

  Then the sound of Alpha Pawail's roar rolled through the cliffs again, deep enough to shake her bones and make the ground tremble. The moment broke like thin glass.

  "Kits! Toothlings! And warriors alike! We shall commence the ceremonies of the highest hunts!"

  Pyrakit sighed. "There goes the calm."

  Pyrokit smirked. "Time to see who survives the day."

  Idalia grinned and stretched her claws. "You two first."

  They bumped shoulders once more before bounding off toward the Grand Summit Cliff where the hunt awaited.