Cross fell harshly as he was struck by his father, he didnt cry, no that was weakness instead he rose up snd faced him, the young dragon was about seven years old in human years and dragonic he didn't know, he didnt get birthdays, just beatings and of he was lucky he could actually go out and play some but never with his brothers and sisters no, always alone, the spirit within him scowled harshly and started to eat his mind, knowing full well that Cross would live through anything, the young dragon stayed in the ground as his father and mother argued once again on who's fault it was for him being small, but cross didn't care, he hid away from the ones he called mom and dad, and he took care of his wounds, he slowly learned what to do for broken scales and other things, ever learning how to live and survive, but the young boy never knew a kind touch, no, everything was a threat no matter what and it would always be seen as one, he couldnt help it, he didnt know love existed just pain beatings and eating scraps, but he was determined to make himself better, to have a better life and that was something no one would take away from him, not that hope, and well, that was one someone could hold onto for quite some time, but for how long not even the gods knew but they didn't step in...no he was already blessed and with a wicked power, one that all of the gods feared, one of rage and bloodlust, one of a primal instinct to kill, berserk, that's all they knew it as, and that's all they wanted to know
