Life will never change unless you defy your fate.

Once upon a time, there was darkness.

She was warm and cozy. Safe. There was no such thing as predators, cold, hunger, or thirst. Just darkness and peace. Time had no meaning. 

But then it was broken, the safety. First she heard the voices.

“Is it time yet? It’s been a year.”

“Those are just legends. Maybe it needs more time to develop.”

“It is a hybrid, after all,” a third voice said. “Hybrids are known to take more time.”

“I think we should give it more time, then.” And then the sounds drifted away, and she fell back into the darkness and peace.

But something soon was wrong. There was a gnawing ache in her belly, not pain, but still uncomfortable. She decided to ignore the ache.

But the ache grew. And she realized that she must venture out of the peace to find out how to stop the ache.

She pressed her head against the wall of warm darkness, letting out a squawk of surprise as the darkness cracked a bit. A harsh, cold brightness streamed through the crack, and she shivered. 

She rammed her head against the darkness again, a bit more forcefully. She heard the satisfying crunch of the darkness falling apart. More harsh spiderwebs snaked across the darkness.

She rammed her head against the darkness one last time, and then the darkness fell away completely. 

As her eyes adjusted to the harsh light, she looked around, awed at all the color that greeted her. Soft, calming light spread in a ceiling above her, and swaying at her feet were flexible rods of dark, peaceful light. Poles of dark, scary light were topped with orbs of the peaceful light. Harsh burning light erupted from an orb floating in the ceiling, so harsh and bright it hurt her eyes looking at it.

She heard a gasp, and she turned her head to see a figure standing to her right. The figure was a lighter version of the rods under her feet, and was covered by a… blanket? of a dark, yet at the same time soft, light.

The figure called in a soft voice, “Derki! Come quick! It hatched!”

She tilted her head at the strange creature, and wondered if it was one of the ones who were making noise while she was in her egg. Its voice did sound familiar, so maybe.

The figure took a cautious step toward her. “Hi, little one,” It cooed in a soft voice. “I’m not a threat, see?” It reached a hand toward her.

Threat? As in… predator? No predator? That’s good, She thought. She took a wobbly step toward the strange creature. 

Just then, another of the creatures, except a bit taller and the blanket was shorter, arrived. It crouched down, making strange huffing noises, and she took a few steps backward in surprise.

The second creature looked at her. “Well, crud,” It said. “I wasn’t here when it hatched, so it must have imprinted on you. That means you’ll have to train it.” The creature’s face soured. “I thought I would get my chance.”

“It’s okay, it just means you’ll get the electric hybrid,” The first creature said, yet its eyes never left her.

“What are you going to name it?” The second creature asked.

The first one paused. “I think I’ll name it…”

The sound it made was beautiful. Both powerful yet kind. Both made of darkness and light. The sound was like the rain and wind, like fire and thunder, like the fiercest dragon roar yet like a butterfly’s wingbeats. My name, she thought proudly. That’s my name. Armodillo.