No. Nonononononono. That can’t be right-

Adam attempted to reach up and grab the halo, hoping to yank it away and prove it was false, but his hands passed through the light. He began to hyperventilate.

How? How could something like this happen? I’m not an aasimar. I can’t even be one.

Adam’s mother had told him that the celestial who had blessed their bloodline had put the condition of their blood being limited to women because they had found it funny. After all, they had been an Azata, one of the more whimsical types of celestials. That, of course, begged the question:

Why did he have a halo?

Was he the butt of some cosmic joke? Had his distant ancestor looked down at their plane and thought, “This boy hasn’t got enough to worry about, try this on for size,” and cursed him? Or worse… Had he somehow stolen this from his mother? The thought made him feel nauseous and guilty.

He stared daggers at his reflection, desperately willing the halo to go away. With great effort, whatever had clicked inside him decided to unclick, and the light faded. His emotions, however – which he assumed had been amplified by the halo’s sudden appearance – did not return to a pre-awakening state. They came to him far too easily, threatening to burst to the surface at even the most minor provocation. It was thoroughly disorientating.

He got to his feet, legs wobbling, and nearly burst into tears again when he saw the wolf. He wanted to hiss at himself, discourage these rotten feelings from being so bloody potent, but what was the point? There was nothing he could do for the beast; it was probably best to leave it to be fuel for the other animals in the forest, but it still made him upset. He wished he could have done more.

Adam stumbled his way back home, managing to find the way back despite the gloom of the very early morning. Silently, he snuck back to his room and huddled beneath the blankets. Beyond these cursed new emotions, he could hide this debacle relatively well so long as he didn’t accidentally trigger the halo again.

Yes… Starting in the morning, he could ignore this farce and return to his life.

 

---

 

The next morning, Adam learned that he could not simply ignore this new curse.

He was used to getting hair in his eyes; his fringe was now particularly long. However, the hair that fell into his vision that morning was not the dark brown he was used to.

It was white… Like his mothers.

Nope. No, nonononoono, 

He rushed over to the small mirror in his bedroom and had to bite back a gurgling scream of terror.

The colour seemed to be gradually leaking out of his hair. That was the only way to describe it – Starting from the roots and climbing along the strands, Adam’s hair was turning a pale grey-white. So far, the entirety of his fringe had been converted, and the infection was steadily progressing backwards across his scalp.

The colour – or lack thereof – was identical to his mother’s. It was one of her aasimar traits that separated her from humanity; the white hair that changed hues with her emotions.

As Adam felt fear grip him at the sight of his minor transformation, he watched the pale parts of his hair change to a light emerald green.

Adam imagined that his Azata ancestor was having a right old laugh somewhere in the upper planes.

 

---

 

“Dear…”

“Yes, Ma?”

“Why are you wearing a cap indoors? At breakfast?”

“Head’s cold,” Adam replied curtly.

He had skilfully tucked his white hair away completely underneath one of his woollen winter caps, and it was dreadfully hot. The parts of his hair that were yet unconverted stuck out awkwardly from the back. He ate his morning porridge in direct defiance of whatever curse had befallen him – He wouldn’t allow his ancestor to win.

And if it isn’t your ancestor?

The thought came unbidden and unwanted from one of the more sour corners of his mind.

What if you managed to steal this power that you have no right to from your mother? What then, Adam? 

Adam didn’t have an answer for that, so he ignored it, ploughing on with breakfast. The list of things he didn’t want to think about seemed to be ever-increasing, but he tried not to think too hard about that either. Ha.

His mother, Maria, pursed her lips with concern whilst looking him over. Her hair was in a loose braid this morning, and she was in her favourite work clothes. His mother was, by trade, a botanist; the area surrounding their rural home was filled with various vegetable experiments and spliced magical trees. Her affinity for plants had something to do with her celestial heritage; their distant ancestor had been an azata related to nature, or so he had been told. Spring was the time Maria worked hardest, and she was currently waiting for the overnight snow to melt.

“Are you sick, dear? Did you catch a fever? May I see?” She reached her hand out to rest against his forehead, but he surprised her by recoiling from the touch.

“I-I’m fine, Ma, thank you!” He blurted out, perhaps a little too quickly, causing his mother to narrow her eyes. She didn’t pry, choosing instead to lean back in her chair and study him. Adam felt his face heat up with embarrassment, but he was thankfully saved from disclosing information by his father’s arrival.

Adam’s father, Anton, was a large man. Due to being taller than Adam, who already had a good few inches on most of the people in town, he had to duck under most doorways. His height and generally silent disposition made most people find Adam’s father intimidating, and he couldn’t fathom how Anton bared it. Being seen as intimidating terrified Adam; he rationalised it as being afraid of being seen as something he desperately didn’t want to be.

Overall, Anton was a man of few words who showed his affection in abstract ways that Adam found very endearing. He leaned down to kiss his wife on the forehead and placed a figurine in front of Adam with a small smile. A carved wooden raven.

Adam nearly got choked up – He had expressed his interest in the figurines sold in the market just a few days before the… incident… with Matt. With what occurred earlier that morning, Adam had nearly forgotten that Matt had happened yesterday afternoon. It seemed to him that his father had gotten the figurine to make him feel better. He held back tears as he thanked his father, pulling him into a hug. Stupid rotten emotions.

The raven figurine reminded Adam of his father’s animal familiar, Isabelle. As soon as he’d thought it, a dark shape darted in through a specially made gate in their door, flapping a few times to slow down before landing on Anton’s shoulder. She tilted her head to look at Adam with a look that was far too intelligent and did a short hop over onto his shoulder. Isabelle let out a soft ‘Quork’ as she nuzzled him, and Adam obliged with a smile, scratching her gently under the chin. It cheered him up, which was most likely her intention.

Anton began removing his hiking gear, slipping his pack off his shoulders, and revealing a bag full of defunct traps.

“I found fifteen,” He said softly, “There are multiple groups of poachers as far as I can tell, or one very competent one. I used to find this many over the span of weeks, not overnight.”

Anton sat down in one of the chairs at the dining table with a sigh. Isabelle gave Adam an affectionate nibble on the ear before flapping over to Anton’s shoulder again, fluffing herself up and enjoying the warmth of the house.

“I also found a boreal wolf. Discarded, for whatever reason.”

Adam immediately froze. Anton continued,

“There seemed to have been a fight of some kind, perhaps a disagreement. A tree had burned down, and there were footsteps leading away from the site in a hurry. Despite that, the poachers left no tracks; either the snow covered them up later, or they’ve got magic boots. Either way, it was strange.”

Maria furrowed her brow and looked at Adam, who was trying to eat his porridge as un-guiltily as possible. He was not very successful.

“Adam,” She began, causing him to choke on his food, “You seem to know something about this?”

He coughed, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath.

“I snuck out last night,” He admitted guiltily, “I needed a distraction. Couldn’t sleep.”

Maria sighed, clasping one of his hands in hers.

“And?”

He turned away, unable to look her in the eyes or raise his voice above a mumble.

“I was following a trail without really thinking, and it turns out I was following bootprints. Found the poachers right after they’d gotten the wolf, and I just got so angry…”

Isabelle hopped into his lap, nuzzling his chest and tucking herself into the warmth of his shirt. She was large, bigger than a cat, and her weight was reassuring.

“They shot at me with a fireball, but I managed to bring up a shield for the first time and deflected the magic. It hit a tree, and then… I scared them off. No real damage to me or them, though I sort of wish I’d managed to get a good hit in.”

His mother narrowed her eyes, seeming to sense his omittance of certain details, but she was interrupted by his father, who was having a rare moment of visible excitement.

“You managed to conjure a shield?”

Adam nodded with a smile, and Anton laughed with delight.

“Excellent! It was one of the first things I picked up as well. Very useful. You might even get your companion soon,” Isabelle quorked in agreement from the folds of his baggy shirt, and he scratched her favourite spot behind her wings.

After that, the rest of the breakfast was eaten in relative silence. Anton got up to leave quickly, thanking Maria for the food and leaving for town. He was going to inquire about the poachers and see if anything could be done. Adam had to untangle Isabelle from his shirt so she could fly off after him, which involved much squirming.

Once Anton had left, Adam played around with his food instead of eating it, attempting to broach a… strange subject.

“So, Ma.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I was wondering if I could get my hair cut again; I think it’s getting a bit long.”

Maria’s eyebrows climbed with surprise, and she looked up from the book she was reading at the table.

“Cut your hair? But I thought you wanted to grow it out!”

Yes, but that was before it started to change colour. 

“I dunno, just want something different, I suppose.”

She nodded, beginning to read and talk at the same time.

“What are you thinking of for style, then? I can think of a few that would be nice with what you’ve got to work with.”

Ah, here was the kicker. Adam rubbed the back of his neck,

“Shaved, actually. Perhaps completely.”

Maria’s look was blank. She closed her book, putting her elbows on the tables and resting her head in her palms,

“Just a few weeks ago, you were talking about the possibility of growing out your hair.”

“Mhm.”

“You told me you wanted to be able to braid it.”

“Yes.”

“And now you want to shave it completely. Like people do… at a monastery?”

“That’s the gist, yes.”

Maria pressed two fingers against her lips as she drew them into a line, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Adam… You can talk to me about anything; you know that, right?

Adam grimaced – There was the statement. The big one. The worst part? He desperately wanted to talk about it, but the terror of revealing that there had been some mistake to his mother – or worse, that he had somehow stolen the traits without thinking – stopped his hand.

“I’m fine, Ma, truly,” He grumbled lowly, unable to look her in the eyes.

She sighed, setting her book on the table.

“Well, I can cut it for you right now if you like-”

“No- That’s – You’re fine, Ma. I’ll search for someone in town when I next have the chance. Just wanted to talk about it first, is all.”

She nodded again, concern still alight in her eyes, but she didn’t broach the subject further. He loved her for that. Soon after, she glanced outside the window and decided it was time to start working.

“I’m replacing all the roses with orchids today, taking a break from my larger experiments. Lots of work, unfortunately, but I should be done by the evening!” Maria stated cheerily, pulling on a large sunhat and stepping outside.

He looked at her leave with a vague sense of longing. When he was younger, Adam had oftentimes toiled in the garden with his mother. It was one of his guilty pleasures – Guilty because when he had revealed it to his schoolmates, they had found it hilarious rather than ‘suitable’. After that, he stopped working with his mother and attempted to forget his interest in botany in pursuit of more appropriate interests. In this town, those appropriate interests usually had to do with mining.

If it weren’t for Adam awakening to his sorcerer abilities from his father’s side earlier that year, he would most likely be learning how to heft a pickaxe right now. For that, he was infinitely thankful; tight spaces had never been one of Adam’s strongest suits.

Adam stood from the table with a stretch; he might as well get some magic practice in.