Hawk Heart

8. Wings

How much of an absolute idiot was I?

I sighed and leaned forward, studying my golden hair. What was it? Some sort of recessive gene that I was unlucky enough to inherit? Was my hair one of the reasons my dad thought I wasn't his son?

I reached into my bedside drawer, shoving aside the two paper birds and reaching deeper till I heard the crinkle of plastic. I took the packet out and stared at it, feeling like more and more of an idiot by the second. Brown hair dye. Would that really change anything? Maybe not. But if I saw some resemblance with my dad, Arthur, Asher maybe even Amelia.

I read the instructions carefully a few times. It seemed simple enough, if a little messy. But if it showed results, I was willing to take the risk. I undressed and hopped into the shower, carefully mixing the sticky paste till it had a respectable consistency. After I was done applying the disgusting smelly paste into my hair, I stood in front of the mirror to inspect. There was no way the colour would show already, was there? Maybe? My hair was light after all.

My hair was wet, hanging lifelessly like rat tails. The overwhelming scent urging me to rinse it off as quickly as possible. I hadn't really let myself think about it. I had bought the dye on a whim and decided to try it on a whim as well. If I thought too much about it, I might realize how fucking stupid it was.

After about an hour, I towel-dried my hair. I stood leaning over the sink for a few second, gazing at the streaks of brown colour that now lined it. It felt like a stranger was looking back at me. Maybe it was because it was such a drastic change, but the moment I took a look at my new hair in the mirror, a sense of revulsion compelled me to look away. It didn't suit me. Or maybe it did and I was just not used to it. I wasn't sure. But as I forced myself to look at my face again, I realized my deepest fears had come true. Everything was different. Despite the hair, none of my facial features matched my dad's. Even if I ignored the stubble, my nose, my chin, my mouth, my bone structure, everything was different. My dad had sharp cheekbones, alert, big eyes. I had always had much less pronounced cheekbones, and smaller eyes.

A large rock dropped down to my stomach. It wasn't possible, was it? How could I look so utterly different from my family? How could I be sparkless? Were the rumours true? Who was I then really?

I gripped the sink to keep standing as waves of nausea crashed over me. I felt cold, like I was suddenly in a brand new, strange place. If I wasn't truly a lightwielder, did that make me just a stranger who Arden Lightwielder pitied enough to keep at his home?

I couldn't stop thinking about the albums. How everyone had been there. Everyone except me. 

I stormed out of the shower and quickly put on some clothes. My heart climbed to my throat, the tide of emotions too much to overcome. I couldn't stay in my room. Or anywhere near. And the moment I stepped out of my home, I broke into a run. My brain wasn't really planning it, but my feet led me outside the house and towards the Nest.

It was still daytime, which meant that the Hawks would be out. Hopefully, Zeph would be there. Even if he wasn't, I needed to get away from the Capital anyway. When I stepped into the streets of the underbelly however, I got jitters. I could almost feel the searing pain of the carved wolf on my skin. I clenched my fists, keeping my eyes away from any dark alleys and breaking into a run till I reached my destination. 

I stepped into the dark staircase and the cold, dinginess of the place was already making me feel more at ease. Maybe I could distract myself just enough. The rest of the warehouse seemed to be empty, at least that's what I could tell by the utter silence.

I decided to go to the rooftop, maybe the open skies would make me feel better. No one seemed to be around anyway, lending an almost creepy atmosphere to the place. I made my way to the rooftop, finding the metal doors slightly ajar. The doors were rusted, old, holding onto their hinges by a sliver. I opened it with a loud clang and my heart skipped a beat at the sight in front of me. Zeph, leaning against the railing.