Adam was lost.

The extremity of this statement may not be immediately apparent; Adam had grown up in the surrounding woods, and his father had been showing him the nooks and crannies of the forest since he had been able to walk. On top of that, his connection to his fathers fey sorcery gave him some measure of innate knowledge of where he was.

Despite all that, Adam was thoroughly and completely lost.

“Stupid,” He hissed at himself.

His legs moved automatically, and his throat was raw as his breaths came out in desperate gasps. The trees blurred around him from a mixture of speed and the tears in his eyes, his fear interacting with his magic, making him lighter and faster with the power of the wind.

The sun had disappeared a few minutes ago, or was it hours? That wasn’t important; all that mattered was that it was dreadfully cold. Adam had run away in a panic without his night-time coat, leaving him in only his light mud stained work clothes. The chill bit into him with hundreds of little teeth, searing his lungs with every breath.

“Idiotic,” He whispered, tears hot on his cheeks.

His new emotions ran rampant through his mind, flipping his stomach and squeezing his tear ducts. He decided that crying was an abysmal thing and that he’d rather he never feel anything at all, just like before. His mind had been peaceful before this abhorrent curse - perhaps a little blank, a little dead compared to this, but living in black and white was preferable if it meant not being blinded by colour.

…Right?

“Moronic,” He blurted out between gasping breaths, attempting to wipe at his eyes while maintaining his speed.

Adam didn’t know what his endgame was with this. He just wanted to leave. A primal instinct to run and get away. How could he ever face his mother again? His parents? Anyone?

That expression she’d worn was seared into his mind, the one of anger – That’s not what she looked like – When she’d realised he’d stolen her family heritage – That’s not what happened, Adam, you need to stop panicking – When she saw that he had the traits that he had no right to – You’re spiralling.

Stand still. Take a deep breath. Calm down.

Adam’s foot caught on something.

At the speed with which he was running, it sent him flying into the air, and he crash-landed hard. He rolled in the bark, and it seemed to be the final straw - all his emotions drained away, leaving him empty as he crawled on the ground.

He found a burrow underneath the tree he’d tripped over, dug out by some animal in the forest. It was empty at the moment, so he curled up inside and attempted to conserve his warmth, and as snow began to fall outside his hiding place, Adam began to sob despite himself.

“Worthless,” he spat between waves of body-wracking trembling, clutching his knees to his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Somehow, his thoughts circled back to Matt. Idiotic, pretty, lovely, Matt. Adam hadn’t even sent him a letter since that afternoon; what was he thinking right now? What would be left between them after this? That foreign-but-familiar sensation, the internalised self-disgust he’d felt when they had touched, came back in full force. Adam felt wrong, and he didn’t know why.

Why? Why? Why was he cursed with his celestial heritage? How could he make it all stop? The answer felt like it was both in his grasp but also out of reach, and Adam knew it held weight. If he latched onto that knowledge, it would drag him down to a place he couldn’t climb up from again; he couldn’t swim up a waterfall, and this felt like it held the same connotations.

Felix was right; he was wrong. Built incorrectly. A cheat, a liar, a parasite. How could people bear to look at him? Interact with him? He hugged himself tighter, pressing his kneecaps into his eyes.

A voice called out from the forest.

No. Nononono. Please just leave me alone; I don’t want to be found; I shouldn’t be found.

He squeezed deeper into the burrow, covering his ears, so he didn’t have to listen.

Adam heard the beating of wings, and a few moments later, a feathery form the size of a large cat squirmed its way into the available space, pressing its musty warmth into his face and nuzzling his forehead.

Adam reached out to scratch Isabelle under the chin, and she let out low clicks from the back of her throat, attempting to reassure him. He cried into her feathers, pulling her close. Isabelle had always been so kind to him despite being his father’s familiar, seemingly able to tell when he was upset and needed something warm and loving to hold. Anton had told him Isabelle was always concerned about him; perhaps she had known that Adam was wrong before he did. It didn’t matter.

The voice came closer, and it wasn’t his fathers.

“Isabelle? Damn it, not you too! You flew off in this direction, didn’t you…?”

Isabelle squawked in reply, and Adam squeezed his eyes shut as he heard his mother gasp.

“Adam…” She said softly, and he knew she was kneeling in front of the tree,

“It’s cold. I’ve got a coat here. Can you please come out?”

He paused, unsure if he was even capable of moving. Isabelle gave him a headbutt of encouragement, which at her size had a fair amount of force, and he squeezed himself out of the burrow to sit with his knees pulled to his chest in the snow. It was bloody freezing now, and his teeth chattered as he laid eyes upon his mother.

Maria had been crying, but not for very long. She wore her long warm coat and held another in her hands, a lantern at her hip. As soon as she saw him properly, she dove down to clean his face.

“You’re bleeding, dear,” She whispered as she wiped at his brow with her thumb. He must have cut open a gash when he’d fallen. As if to add salt to the wound, once she got close, Adam’s halo involuntarily switched on. He watched as his mother’s eyes widened, bathed in the cool-blue glow. He felt another surge of shame, and whatever composure he’d managed to regain fell away as he stuffed his face into his knees and began to cry again. It wasn't just that he was feeling things for what was likely the first time in years, he was feeling them so much - It was overwhelming.

Adam felt the coat being wrapped around him before his mother pulled him into an embrace, Isabelle nestling herself underneath his knees.

“Never run like that again. Please. I was so worried.” She whispered into his ear, tears of her own warming his face.

“I-I’m s-s-so sorry,” He managed to stammer out between sobs, “I j-just, I thought i-if you s-saw my hair, a-a-and the h-halo, y-you’d know I s-stole this from y-you. I d-didn’t want to h-hurt you,”

She squeezed him tight, speaking in a fierce tone.

“You can’t steal this from me, dear, or hurt me with it. It’s not mine to give or take. If it’s chosen you, it’s bloody well yours, and I won’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Adam began to feel a strange anger at that; what was she even trying to say? Why was she playing along? The frustration leaked into his voice, sharpening his words.

“But it’s not for me! You said so yourself – The azata that originally joined with our family made it so that only the women could have their blood as a joke. Last time I checked, I was very firmly a m-man,”

He spat out the words like they were bitter, and he felt a peculiar melancholy crash down upon him. Why did that feel awful to say? He was so confused. His sobbing overtook him again, and his mother looked at him with a peculiar mix of pity and understanding.

“You haven’t… Oh, honey,”

She pulled him in tighter, which only served to remind Adam of their size difference. He was so much larger than her, even when they were both sitting down. Adam suddenly saw a warm light through his eyelids, and when he opened them, he saw his mother’s halo had manifested as well. It was a perfect mirror of his own, only the golden colour of the sun.

She stroked his hair in a circular motion, just like when he was young, and kissed his forehead before murmuring into his ear,

“Tell me about it if you can. What led to this? You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Adam pulled Maria in tighter, managing to salvage some of his composure,

“I-It started with Matt,” He sniffed, eyes still streaming, “We had a-a conversation, and we admitted that we wanted to be more than… m-more than friends,”

That got a look of subtle surprise from his mother, but she didn’t interrupt. Adam continued,

“We tried to something… Intimate… But as s-soon as he touched me, I felt w-wrong- Repulsive- That’s when we came home.”

Maria nodded, stroking his cheek and holding him close. She was so warm, and the glow of her halo was like a familiar comfort.

“I s-snuck out at night because I wanted to stop t-thinking,” Adam said with a scowl, “And I came across the poachers. I d-don’t know what it was, but right after I realised I was in real danger, something within me clicked and then… A-and then…” He trailed off again, losing his composure.

Maria ran a hand through Adam’s newly white fringe, “Then, this, I suppose?”

Adam nodded, forehead pressed against her shoulder. Maria chewed her lip, talking so very softly.

“How long have you felt like… That, dear? Like you did with Matt? If that’s ok to ask.”

Adam opened his mouth to give a simple reply – obviously, it had started then and there – but he paused. He remembered it quite clearly; it had been like a subtle background murmuring in the back of his mind had come to the forefront.

“For a while, Ma,” He whispered; it felt like an admission of guilt.

She nodded, continuing to stroke his head. Isabelle offered a sympathetic quork from underneath them both. Maria didn’t look him in the eyes, continuing to bite her lip as she thought about what to say next.

“Dear… I’m going to tell you a story, alright? It’s about your great-aunt Annabel. She gave me permission to tell this if I needed to, and I realise now that I should have probably recounted this to you earlier. Hindsight is always clearer.”

Adam nodded, this time confused. His mother’s extended family lived in one of the smaller cities, a fair distance away. They visited every two years, and Adam knew Annabel quite well – She was another aasimar and was fairly eccentric, as his family members went. Maria sighed, leaning back a little bit.

“When your great-aunt was born, she wasn’t… Known as Annabel. Nor was it even known that she was an aasimar – It’s fairly rare, and me being one in the generation after her was a surprise,” Maria said with a light chuckle.

Adam grew even more perplexed; How would they not immediately know that she was an aasimar? She would have been born with the hair, at the very least. Maria chewed on her words, hesitant to continue. When she continued, it was in a very soft voice.

“It seemed to everyone, her included, that Annabel was a boy. She grew up as one without much complaint, and studied alchemy at the local university. She became a fairly successful student until there was an… incident when she was twenty-one. Annabel was on the road with her friends, travelling between cities, when a group of bandits attempted to take their money and possibly their lives. The incident seemed to trigger something dormant within her, and Annabel managed to form a halo, which was enough to scare off their assailants. There was just one problem, however…”

Adam mumbled a response, “Only the w-women in our family c-can be aasimar,”

Maria pulled him in tighter, kissing his forehead again.

“Yes... Sort of, and it's my own fault for not thinking to explain. Initially, Annabel was confused, fearing the changes that came after she’d first used her heritage, but eventually, she realised that… Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake; perhaps she didn’t need to be a man. What she was born with didn't matter, not to her, and so Annabel decided that she was Annabel, and that was that.”

Adam looked at Maria with wide, confused eyes.

“You can do that?”

It was less than a whisper, laced with equal measures of hope and fear. Maria looked him in the eyes, stroking his cheek.

“Would you want that?”

Adam was aware that he was beginning to hyperventilate, tensing up and inching away from the embrace.

“I d-don’t know, I… No. No. I’m not allowed. I’m w-wrong; it wouldn’t b-be right.”

Adam felt ashamed. Where were these thoughts coming from? Were they a new addition, like his emotions? Why had he even considered it?

Isabelle hopped into his lap, reaching up to press her head against the underside of his chin while Maria pressed her forehead to his.

“It wouldn’t be right? Says who? Felix? People like him don’t matter. What matters is this; would it make you happy?”

Adam began to cry harder, large tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know,” He hung his head low, squeezing his eyes shut; he felt like he was slipping down that waterfall with no way back up, heading into the great unknown.

Maria smiled, and her halo's familiar and comforting warmth seemed to grow brighter.

“Well then, would you like to try?” She leaned in, lifting his chin with a finger, “How does it feel if I call you my daughter?”

That small assertion sent him careening down the waterfall.

It felt right, and for the first time in his life he realized he wanted that. He was desperate for it, he needed to be her daughter, but he couldn't be. He was her son, unchanging, set in stone.

Or was he?

Because here was his mother, and there wasn't a hint of humor in her gaze as she simply just... Offered it to him. In her eyes it was clear; this wasn't some joke at his expense, a fleeting fantasy that would be snatched away as soon as he reached out for it. And she was willing to give him that small change in title that felt so much more real than the way he was thinking of himself right now.

And all he needed to do was take it.

So she allowed herself to seize it, roll it around in her mouth, consider it, and gods, it felt good.

The white hair in Adam’s eyes changed hue, bleeding into a bright gold as a foreign joy felt like it was injected directly into her spine. She sobbed even harder, but it had a different tone to it now, closer to laughter than something upset. Adam collapsed into her mother’s arms as Maria’s hair bled to a matching happy yellow.

“I suppose you like it then,” Maria murmured, causing Adam to laugh between breaths. Isabelle nestled herself underneath Adam’s arm and she felt something within her click, similar to when her emotions activated a magical effect. Her mother gasped, and Adam looked down through bleary eyes.

Poking through the bark, mulch and snow that made up the forest floor were little offshoots of green rapidly growing in front of their eyes. They formed a circle around Adam a few feet wide. Little flowers, saplings, and other seeds that had had no chance at sunlight suddenly found the strength to push themselves out of the soil despite the cold. Maria looked at it with wonder.

“I d-discovered it earlier today,” Adam croaked sheepishly, “Some of my magic is different now, reliant on my emotions. They affect the environment around me. I… don’t know what this is, though,”

Her mother looked up at her with a twinkle in her eye, “You are incredible, darling. I think…” She looked up at Adam’s hair, pinching the golden locks gently between her fingers and smiling, “You make plants grow around you when you’re happy. That will be very useful; I’ll keep that in mind.”

Adam smiled weakly, holding Isabelle to her chest.

“Goodness, Izzy, you’re so wet- That’s my fault. Come here,” She opened her coat, and Isabelle hopped into one of the large inner pockets, settling into the warm space with a happy croak.

A familiar voice called out from further along the trail.

“Maria? Isabelle flew off without me; I think she was coming for you. Did you find…?”

He trailed off as he saw the two of them huddled in the snow. It was falling thick and fast now, and their twin halos highlighted the flakes as they came down in a torrent. Adam managed to squeeze out one curt “Hi, Da,” before Anton got to her, pulling her up to her feet in one of the tightest hugs she’d ever experienced.

“Hello there, Adam. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…” He whirled her around, causing Isabelle to squawk with alarm as he pressed his scratchy beard into Adam’s forehead. Few people could make her feel quite as small as Anton Lane. He looked between the two of them, taking in their tear-stained cheeks, the haloes, and the changes in their hair.

“I suppose we’ll be having a conversation then, dear?” He said to Maria, who nodded with pursed lips.

“A long one, I’m afraid, but let’s get home first. Can you take us back?”

Anton nodded, squeezing Adam one last time and letting out a sigh of relief before marching back home quickly.

Adam felt exhausted but lighter than she’d ever felt before. Suddenly, the future no longer seemed so daunting, and she managed to smile at her mother as she scratched Isabelle behind the wings.

She couldn’t help but wonder, as she walked behind her father while holding her mothers hand tight, what would come next?