The beast reached him in a heartbeat, a mountain of scales and horn hurtling through the air. The impact was violent. The creature's beak snapped shut on the space where the boy stood, and its heavy crocodile legs tore into the earth, kicking up a cloud of dirt and pulverized moss.
Ram was sent flying. His small, porcelain body hit a massive root of the mother tree with a sickening thud. He slumped to the ground, his white limbs tangled.
There was no sound. No scream of pain, no crying.
Slowly, the boy began to move. He pushed himself up, his golden hair matted with dirt. His porcelain skin was scraped, and red blood—bright and vivid—began to leak from a cut on his forehead. He looked at the blood on his fingers, staring at it with those wide, golden sun-eyes. He touched the liquid, then looked back at the beast.
The monster turned, its tail lashing the air. It was confused. Usually, prey was crushed or scrambled away in fear. This small, white thing just sat there, bleeding and watching.
Ram stood up. His legs were still shaky, but he forced them to hold his weight. He didn't look angry; he looked fascinated. He took a step toward the monster. Then another. He wasn't defending himself. He wasn't fighting back. He was simply walking toward the thing that had just tried to kill him, his eyes locked onto the beast's wide,reptilian pupils.
The beast let out a low, vibrating growl in its chest. It felt a strange pressure in the air—a heavy, suffocating feeling radiating from the boy. The creature's instinct, sharpened by years of being a predator, suddenly screamed at it to stay back.
Ram reached out his small hand, reaching toward the sharp beak that had just tried to snap his bones. He was like a child reaching for a flame, unaware that it could burn.
The beast snapped again, its beak clicking inches from Ram's fingers. Still, the boy didn't flinch. He just stood there, his head tilted, his golden eyes glowing with an intensity that seemed to dim the very sunlight in the clearing.
The monster hesitated. It lowered its horns, but it didn't charge. It took a cautious step backward, its crocodile feet dragging in the dirt.
Ram took another step forward. His stomach growled again—a loud, hollow sound. He pointed at the beast's leg, then pointed at his own open mouth. He wasn't the prey anymore. In his simple, newborn mind, he was looking at the beast and seeing the one thing he needed.
Food.
As the beast lunged, Ram felt a sudden, violent heat erupting from his spine. He twisted his small body, reaching back to touch the source, but he was too slow. From his shoulder blades, massive black bones tore outward, stretching five feet wide.
Jet-black feathers followed, sprouting in a flurry of dark silk. These weren't ordinary wings; the feathers seemed to pulse with a life of their own, radiating a raw, bloodthirsty aura that stained the air. Ram craned his neck, barely catching a glimpse of the dark plumage before a second eruption occurred.
Boom.
A magnificent, golden fire roared to life, cloaking the black wings in a shroud of celestial flame. The fire didn't just burn; it snarled, a living heat that demanded to be unleashed.
The beast skidded to a halt, the sheer pressure of the transformation forcing it back a step. It had never seen a creature like this, but it was a predator of the primeval woods—it didn't know how to flee. It composed itself, lowering its triceratops head while its scorpion tail arched over its frill. It looked like a fortress of scales with four sharp points aimed at the boy's heart.
Ram ignored the heat. He was mesmerized by the beast's mighty, defiant posture. But the beast was done waiting. It charged, its speed doubling as it sought to trample the golden-winged anomaly into the dirt.
The black wings didn't wait for Ram's command. Acting on a primal instinct far older than the boy's new body, they snapped forward. Covered in that fierce golden fire, the ten-foot wingspan wrapped around Ram like a protective cocoon.
The impact was silent but devastating. As the beast's horns and venomous stinger collided with the wings, the golden fire intensified. The bone-white horns and the chitinous tail began to soften, glowing orange as they literally melted against the divine heat.
The monster recoiled, letting out a harrowing shriek of agony. Its crocodile legs scrambled backward, but it was too late.
Ram, still clutching his growling stomach, peeked from behind his wings. He pointed a trembling finger at the beast, his golden eyes locking onto the creature. In his simple, hungry mind, he wasn't thinking of combat—he was thinking of dinner. He wanted the flames to finish the "cooking."
The wings, bound to his subconscious, obeyed instantly. They swept upward, the golden flames condensing at the tips into a single, swirling orb of concentrated sun-fire. The wings snapped downward, aiming the orb at the center of the howling beast
The fire shot out like a bullet, leaving a trail of golden light that twisted into the shape of a dragon's tail. As it flew, the orb shifted, expanding into a roaring serpent's head made of pure flame.
BOOM.
The serpent swallowed the beast whole. The clearing was filled with a blinding radiance as the golden fire claimed the creature, burning through scale and bone. The monster thrashed for a few desperate minutes, its screams muffled by the roar of the flames, until it finally went still.
The fire dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. What remained was a scorched, massive carcass—charred on the outside, but perfectly cooked by the celestial heat.
Ram stood there, his wings slowly folding behind him. He stared at the smoking meal, a thin trail of drool escaping his lips. He didn't wait. He didn't use a knife. He rushed toward the fallen beast on all fours, his porcelain-white hands reaching for the roasted meat as he began to devour his first meal in this new, violent world..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued