Rhark Trainer |work| May 2026

Vex was a four-year-old Rhark—three tons of muscle, scale, and latent fire. His dorsal spines, still molting their juvenile fuzz, clicked softly as he shifted his weight. To the untrained eye, he was a monster from the deep-fissure tales, a creature that could melt granite with a sneeze and reduce a herd of ironbacks to slag.

“Alright, old friend,” he whispers. “Sun’s up. Let’s go remind the world what trust looks like.”

The sun had not yet breached the ridge of the Cinderfangs, but the low, guttural rumble already vibrated through the clay floor of the enclosure. Kaelen pressed his palm flat against the warm, pebbled hide of the beast. “Easy, Vex,” he murmured. “I know. The dark makes you hungry.” rhark trainer

Kaelen smiles and shows them his scarred fingers. “He remembers every day,” he says. “That’s why he chooses not to be.”

The rumble in Vex’s chest deepens, then shifts into a low, melodic thrum—a sound no instrument can replicate. It is the Rhark’s version of a purr. Kaelen leans his forehead against the great beast’s snout. The heat washes over him like a blessing. Vex was a four-year-old Rhark—three tons of muscle,

Kaelen stayed. He sat in the ash, let the burns throb, and hummed a low, trembling note—the sound of a wounded Rhark calling for kin. Vex stopped hissing. His head, too large for his body, tilted. And for the first time, he listened .

The other handlers at the Caldera Stable call Kaelen a fool. “Too soft,” they say. “One day that beast will remember it’s a predator.” “Alright, old friend,” he whispers

To Kaelen, he was a student.