Adrian POV
"Grandma?" I called as I stepped inside.
"I'm back," I added, louder.
She looked up from her stool near the hearth, fingers still moving through the bundles of dried leaves spread across the cloth. Her hair was tied back, sleeves rolled, eyes already on me.
"You're late," she said.
Then, without waiting for an answer, "Go wash up. You're covered in dust again."
"Yes," I said immediately.
I slipped past her before she could look too closely.
Outside, the water in the basin was cold. I scrubbed my hands and legs harder than needed, splashed my face, kept my eyes down.
She's still outside.
Just say it. Say it normal.
I wiped my face on my sleeve and went back in.
Grandma was crouched by the fire, adjusting the wood.
"Grandma."
"Hm?"
"Aunt Esther… walked me home today."
Her hands stopped.
Slowly, she straightened and turned to face me.
"Esther?" she asked.
I nodded.
"She's waiting outside," I added. "She wants to talk to you."
Her eyes sharpened immediately.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing," I said too fast.
She crossed her arms. "People don't come here without reason. Did you cause trouble?"
"No," I shook my head quickly. "She just—she said she wanted to talk."
About what?
"I don't know," I lied.
She studied my face for a long moment, like she was weighing something. Then she sighed.
"Go sit," she said. "I'll hear what she has to say."
She wiped her hands on her apron and went to the door.
I stayed where I was.
Grandma opened it.
Esther stood just outside, posture calm, cloak neat despite the road dust.
"Good evening," Esther said warmly. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"No," Grandma replied, guarded. "Come in."
Esther stepped inside. Her eyes flicked briefly to me, then back to Grandma.
"Thank you for seeing me."
"Sit," Grandma said, pointing to the bench. Then, sharper, "Adrian. Stay where you are."
I froze and nodded.
They sat across from each other.
Silence stretched.
"So," Grandma said. "You wanted to talk."
"Yes," Esther replied. "But first—please know this. Adrian has done nothing wrong."
Grandma glanced at me. "I assumed as much."
"He's a brave child," Esther continued. "Earlier today, I invited him to lunch to thank him for saving my daughter, Rebekah, from a wild animal."
That helped. A little.
"There was another reason," Esther added.
Grandma stiffened. "Go on."
"I am a witch," Esther said calmly.
The word hit hard.
Grandma inhaled sharply, then let it out slowly.
"I've heard of witches," she said. "Stories. Never met one."
She narrowed her eyes. "What does that have to do with my grandson?"
Esther turned toward me.
"Adrian," she said gently. "Would you come here?"
My feet wouldn't move.
"Adrian," Grandma said sharply. "What is she talking about?"
"I didn't want you to know," I said, my voice shaking.
"Show her," Esther said.
My hands trembled as I lifted them.
Fire flared over my fingers. Bright. Real.
I extinguished it immediately.
Grandma stumbled back, gripping the table.
"Gods…" she whispered.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean—"
"You're saying," Grandma said to Esther, voice tight, "that my grandson is like you."
"Yes," Esther replied. "His magic awakened today."
"This is dangerous," Grandma said. "People die for things like this."
She stepped back—
And fell.
"Grandma!"
I rushed toward her.
Fear hit hard.
The room reacted.
Wind tore through the house. Shutters slammed open. Bowls lifted and shattered. The fire surged wildly.
"Adrian!" Esther snapped.
Her hand came down on my head.
Everything went black.
Esther POV
The instant Adrian went limp, I caught him before his head struck the floor.
The storm collapsed inward.
Wind snapped back against the walls instead of tearing through them. Shutters slammed shut. Bowls and tools fell hard, clattering across the floor. The fire shrank down to embers, smoke curling low and thin.
Silence rushed back in—thick, unnatural.
Adrian lay slack in my arms, breath shallow but steady. His pulse fluttered beneath my fingers, fast but even.
The woman did not see that.
She dropped to her knees beside us, hands shaking as she pulled him from my grasp and into her chest, one arm locked around his shoulders, the other cradling his head as if afraid he might simply stop existing if she loosened her hold.
"What did you do to him?" she demanded, voice breaking. "What did you do to my grandson?"
"I put him to sleep," I said calmly. "Nothing more."
"He was standing," she said, almost choking on the words. "He was right there. You touched him and he fell like he was dead."
"If I hadn't," I replied evenly, "his magic would have continued to escalate."
She didn't answer. She stared down at his face, pale against her apron, as if waiting for proof that he was still breathing.
"He's not waking," she whispered.
"He will," I said. "By morning. Noon at the latest."
Her fingers tightened convulsively in his shirt.
She lifted her head slowly. Fear hardened into anger, sharp and bright.
"You walk into my house," she said, "tell me my grandson is like you. lay your hands on him and knock him unconscious—and expect me to trust you?"
"I expect you to listen," I replied. "Because pretending this didn't happen will not protect him."
Her head shook violently. "You don't know that."
"I do."
"If no one knows," she pressed, voice rising, "if he never does this again—if we don't let this become anything—then there's no danger. We don't need magic. We don't need teaching. We don't need you."
She clutched Adrian tighter, as if the idea alone threatened to pull him away.
"I lost my son," she said suddenly. Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop. "I buried him and my daughter-in-law with my own hands. I watched the ground close over both of them."
She swallowed hard.
"This child," she continued, "is all I have left. All of him fits in my arms. And you want to tell me the only way to keep him alive is to let him become something I don't trust."
"I am telling you," I said gently, "that he already is."
She flinched.
"Magic did not appear because he wanted it," I continued. "And it will not disappear because you forbid it."
"You don't know my grandson," she snapped. "He's obedient. He listens. If I tell him to stop—"
"He doesn't control it yet," I said. "You saw that."
Her eyes flicked briefly to the wrecked room. The scorched stone. The shattered bowls.
"That happened because he was afraid," I continued. "And fear is not something you can command a child out of."
Silence pressed down on us.
She looked at Adrian again, her face twisting with something close to despair.
"So this is it," she said quietly. "He's cursed."
"No, he is not cursed. Some witches are born with more power than they can safely hold alone," I said. "Your grandson is one of them very very gifted."
"If they are taught," I said, "they live."
"And if they're not?"
"They burn out," I said. "Or they burn everything else first."
" It's just they have so much magic that they can't control it safely without guidence just like now when he was worried about you," I said, " He will feel overwhelmed. Tired. Headaches. Nightmares."
She flinched.
"Then the magic will start reacting without his permission," I continued. "When he's angry. When he's afraid. When he's grieving."
Her mouth tightened.
"Fire that spreads too fast. Wind that knocks people down. Crops ruined by sudden storms. Illness with no clear source."
"And not just surroundings he will get injured everytime he loses control he has headaches bleeding from nose he will hurt himself in the process."
She shook her head. "His parents weren't like this."
"No," I agreed.
"They lived ordinary lives," she continued. "They didn't summon wind or fire. They didn't destroy their home when they were scared."
Finally, she whispered, "What am I supposed to do?"
"That," I said softly, "is why I came to you."
She looked up at me, eyes wary, exhausted.
"I can teach him," I said. "I can help him control it before it controls him."
Her expression hardened immediately.
"And why would you do that?" she asked. "Why would you take on something like this?"
She stared straight through me.
"No one takes this kind of responsibility without wanting something in return."
I paused.
Then I nodded once.
"You're right," I said. "I do have an ulterior motive."
Her jaw tightened. "There it is."
"I won't lie to you," I continued. "I need him."
"For what?" she demanded.
"That," I said calmly, "is not something you need to decide tonight."
She shook her head slowly, bitterly. "You're asking me to trust you with my grandson without telling me your motive."
"I want him to join my family a witch as gifted as him I want him to join my family is all I can say for now but I assure you he will not be hurt if you trust him to me."
The Next Morning
Light pressed against my eyelids.
My head felt heavy. My body wouldn't move.
"Grandma?" I whispered.
Her arms tightened around me immediately.
"You're awake," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Thank the gods."
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes tired and red.
"I was worried," she said quietly. "You wouldn't wake up."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean for—"
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, cutting in. Not angry. Just hurt.
"Why hide it from me?"
"I didn't want you to worry," I said. "I didn't want you to be scared."
She sighed and rested her forehead against mine for a moment.
"What happened last night?" I asked. "Why did I fall asleep? What did Esther say to you?"
She shook her head.
"Don't worry about the details," she said. "You were upset. Your magic went wild. She put you to sleep before you hurt yourself."
I hesitated. "Do you… want me to learn magic?"
She looked at me carefully.
"Do you want to?" she asked.
"I do," I admitted.
Her expression softened.
She pulled me into a tight hug.
"I love you," she said. "That won't change."
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_
AUTHORS NOTE:
I read the comments on the last chapter where I asked whether you'd like spoilers.
Most of you said you'd rather not, but a few mentioned you wouldn't mind a small sneak peek.
So I won't spoil it — but I will tell you what it isn't.
If you don't want even the slightest hint regarding Adrian's immortality, this is your cue to stop reading.
He will not become a vampire nor tribrid.
While I've designed something that grants strength, speed, and healing comparable to vampirism, it isn't vampirism at all.
What I've done instead is use multiple canon-consistent magical concepts to create a state where, on paper, Adrian is still mortal —
but in practice, he is effectively unkillable.
That said, this immortality is not flawless.
For the sake of story and stakes, it does have a weakness — one that is extremely difficult to exploit, but still theoretically exploitable.
It is completely new and I have not seen anyone or any fic doing it and it's completely logical and canon consistent and not like it will not hurt him cuz I say so.
That's all I'll say for now.