Limbs too long for his body carry the hybrid child across the land. When his mother chose his name she picked one that meant noble commander- Adelric, a name meant for a prince of the land. But he is no prince. He is simply a pauper in disguise, a commoner born on a bed of dirt and licked clean by a cat instead of his mother. Indeed, he wears a crown upon his head, but it is simply a mask that hides his equine heritage and he is so many halves that, already, he cannot understand what it means to be whole. He owns half of his mother's love- a twin to the filly Zünden who requires just as much care and attention as himself. He is a half-blood, both equine and unicorn and not understanding which is his real calling. And, in fact, he is but half a unicorn, his spear little more than a nub that protrudes as a bump from his forehead. He is half-colored, neither his roan nor his Appaloosa spots covering his entire body. Even his eyes cannot decide what they are supposed to be- one side yellow and one side green. Still, perhaps most importantly, he only has half of a family, his father little more than a whisper in his memory. So, with his mother close by, the half-child wanders off, trying to find something that will make him feel whole, if there is anything on this earth that can accomplish the feat.

He is alone for a moment, perhaps the state it is best for him to be in, when something dark (something whole!) goes flying past him in a flurry of legs. The curious child peaks back once, then again, to make sure his mother is busy attending to his other half, before he kicks up his heels and canters after the black freight train that has passed him by. For a moment, the half-child fears he will never catch up the flying demon, but then the inevitable happens. Foal limbs, not made to carry too-thin bodies at blazing speed, crumble under the demon. Instinctively, Adelric slows to a trot, cocking his head to the side as he loses the demon child behind the knoll that his downed him. Ah, but the demon has luck on his side. As Adelric crests the mound and halts, he finds the black mass glaring, but none the worse for the ware. For a moment the half-child just watches, categorizing, taking things in. His two colored eyes make him half a whole, but also give him a unique perspective from which to view the earth. Is he supposed to glare when he falls? Is he supposed to blame others for his misfortunes instead of blaming himself for his inadequacies? He ponders, but his young brain has no answers for questions far beyond his ability to contemplate.

What he forgets to meditate upon is what he should be saying to the demon that he has followed, the creature that has crumbled before him and risen from the ashes of his failure, this phoenix of the night. It suddenly occurs the pauper that he has no right to stand before this mythical beast, this king, this child who is whole, and it is then that words fail him. Already, this young child is subservient, made to feel inadequate by his lack of family and lack of wholeness. But subservience does not imply stupidity. Already, the child wonders (if not so eloquently) if he can watch this phoenix burn as he flies and learn something from him on how to be whole.