For as long a time as I could remember, I had been curled up, crammed into my wet, waxy tomb. Dim reddish brown light filtered through the egg membrane, making patterns on the shell. The light illuminated my features, my pale fingers and knobbly toes. My arms were curled around my chest with my fists tucked under my chin, and my knees were crammed in front of my face. My hard wing stubs dug into my back, shoved up against the rigid shell. Alone in my watery cocoon, I waited.
I waited for a long time. I had felt the energy course through my veins before, but this time it consumed me. I started to move. I pushed and fought the shell. Once my warm womb, it now trapped me like a suffocating prison. I pushed and squirmed, the shell around me convulsing. I twisted and kicked, beating my puny feet against the unrelenting wall. I braced my head against one side of the shell, my feet fighting the other wall of the shell, a line of bright forming. I gasped as the cold air leaked in. I pushed and pushed, the crack widening. With one last effort, my world shattered, the light consuming me.