#telesphore

The first lesson when his son's hands were so small his fingertips didn't touch his father's palms. First, the father he showed his son how flowers grow. A whisper of magic, and the bud will open. The son touched the flower tenderly at first, but he wanted so much to hold it that he tore it from the ground. The father pulled the aether from the flower, let it wither in his son's hands.

That was the second lesson.

"Look what you've done. You've killed it. Flowers need their roots, you know."

Fat, childish tears came streaming - and then the horrible wails. Third lesson, followed when a groan of, "Oh, do go on," didn't shut him up, saying, "Don't waste my time," and walking swiftly away did. He was too out of breath from running after to keep crying. Though he did snuffle, snot running. Wiped on the sleeve.

"You're leaking everywhere. Disgusting."

Fourth lesson. Similar to the 40th lesson. And the 18th, come to think of it. And the 100th.

That was shortly before the son left home. By then, the son’s fingers were long and skinny, not as thick as his father's. They were longer fingers than his father's, but his palms were not as broad or thick. His hands were not as strong. The son lost his eye. Another lesson, another mess leaking down his face. 

On the day the son left, the father tried to touch the son on the shoulder as he turned away. The son flinched and did a half step away. The son kept his face carefully neutral, despite that sudden movement.

"Don't give me that face," the father said.

Adi named the chigoe larva Needle and fed it secretly each day. Only a little bit a blood, a little bit of bad humours. Mostly, he sat with Needle in the upper caves when he was done with lessons for the day. He brought it little potions, vegetables, but all it wanted was blood. Adi didn't mind that. He was used to bleeding for things he loved. Little fluttering wings, speaking back and forth to Needle in chitters. He shared little secrets with his pet, things he didn't dare speak to anyone else. And life was good. Better than it had been these last 7 years.

So of course, it all went wrong.

Adi crept into the upper chamber, whistled for Needle, and didn't hear his chitter, the flutter of his little wings.

Little pinpricks of light trickled from the white roots in the walls and created Telesphore. Father. And in his hands, he held Needle.

"Why were you keeping this a secret from me, Telesphoriade?"

Father never called him 'Adi,' no, only Mother did that. And sometimes, when Adi felt annoyed or angry, he thought, 'I shall call him Telesphore, like everyone else. He doesn't seem to care to be Father.'

"I didn't think it mattered," Adi stammered. He tried to see if Needle was alive. It looked like one of his wings was damaged.

Telesphore held Needle so tightly the larva's eyes bugged a bit. The insect chittered and tried to burrow backward into Telesphore's robes, tried to bounce away, but Telesphore held him fast.

"You can't keep this thing. It's filthy. It will make you sick."

"He - it's my friend."

"How fitting. A friend who does nothing but drain you of blood. Just like anyone else outside the family." Telesphore's voice was gentle. His grip on Needle loosened just enough that the larva tried to escape, and he grasped it tightly again. "Say goodbye to it. If I see it here again, I will crush it 'neath my boot. I ought to do it now to teach you a lesson." Even when threatening, Telesphore sounded so gentle. "But I am not cruel. I will let it go."

"Goodbye... Needle." Adi tried to will the tears back into his eyes, but they burned: he had to let them escape.

"See, that wasn't difficult." Telesphore turned quickly on his heel, and whispered to the wall until the roots opened a second doorway. "Go, be free, find your way to the surface." He spoke the words to the roots to make the door close behind before Adi could run after.

"You understand why I had to do this, don't you? I had to protect you. That's all there was to it." Telesphore said matter-of-factly.

"I understand."

"And?"

"...Thank you for protecting me, sir."

"That's more like it."