A lone young boy ran through the lush green fields just outside the town of Broadtree, giggling as the tall grasses brushed over his skin. His path was haphazard and zigzagging as he picked the wildflowers that met his exacting requirements. It didn't matter how many petals the flower had, or how big the flower was, or even how it smelled. There was only one distinct and very important feature for each and every flower that the boy plucked:

That the petals were red.

This nine-year-old boy was named Sorrow, and these flowers were for his Mom. He knew that Mom loved the color red, so he decided on this day to pick these flowers for her as a gift.

Sorrow was a peculiar boy, one who had few friends of his own age. His hair, a strange and unnatural-looking mixture of strands of blonde and strands of crimson, marked him as different from the other boys and girls his age, and different among children of that age meant bad. His unusual violet eyes only accentuated this difference, widening the gulf.

Sorrow was okay with this arrangement, though. The only person who mattered was Mom, and he got to spend as much of his time as he could with her.

Today was a special day for the citizens of Broadtree. Every year the local immortal sect would send representatives to gauge the talent of the town's youths. While it wasn't even every year that a child was deemed acceptable, the testing happened nonetheless, and because of it, the local schools would not be in session that day.

Sorrow was thankful to the nice immortals for coming and letting him have the day off so he could spend his morning picking flowers for his Mom. Perhaps in another couple of years, he would have to undergo the testing himself, but on this day he was free to do as he pleased, and what he was pleased to do was make Mom happy.

Deeming that the clump of vermilion-capped flowers in his hand was enough, Sorrow stopped picking the flowers and decided to return home. Washed by the warmth of the noontime sun and cooled by the spring breeze, he enjoyed the walk back to the house he shared with Mom at the edge of the town.

Sorrow hid the flowers behind his back as he entered their small house and shut the door behind him. He found Mom at her usual daytime place, sitting at a table by a window that faced to the south. She liked to sit there and look out the window, thinking about something in silence.

Mom was a delicate, almost frail woman, her long blonde hair done up in a bun most of the time. Sorrow wasn't sure exactly what she did to provide for them, but he knew that she was very, very good at finding things. People would come to her with requests, and she would try to help them, although he had no clue how she did it. Some of the children in the town said she knew sorcery, but Sorrow just couldn't mesh the image of a sorceress with that of his Mom.

"Hi, Mom!" Sorrow shouted in greeting.

Mom looked away from the window and smiled that smile that meant everything to the young boy. "Hello, Sorrow. What have you been up to today?"

Sorrow grinned. "Nothing much. Here," he took the hand holding the flowers out from his back and proffered them to her, "I got these for you."

Mom's eyes widened as she caught sight of the flowers, but after a moment she reached out and took them, her gaze focused on their crimson petals. As she did every other time, she carefully set the stems into a vase she kept by the window.

Once her hands were empty, Sorrow stepped up and hugged Mom, an embrace that she returned.

"Sorrow, my dear," she told him, ruffling his hair with a hand, "you're getting a bit big to hug people without notice, you know."

Sorrow let go and stepped back, concerned. "Did I hurt you, Mom?"

"No, no, dear... it's just... you've grown up so much, so fast," she reassured him. "Soon you'll be even taller, and I'll have to look up at you just like I did for... someone." Her gaze went distant as her voice trailed off.

"Should I stop growing, Mom?" Sorrow asked, genuinely worried as he was whenever she got that longing look in her eyes. "There's immortals in town, maybe they can help me stay short," he offered in earnestness.

Mom's eyes snapped back into focus. "What? No," she replied, "no, sweetie, you don't have to do that." She laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair again. "That's why they call it growing up, after all, isn't it? I want to look up at you when you become tall and handsome like I know you will."

Sorrow shrugged. "Okay. But I won't grow up if it makes you upset, Mom!" he vowed.

Mom laughed some more. "Oh, darling, there are some things that are just meant to be."

She then shifted her gaze to the door, and a few seconds later there was a knock. Mom had a habit of doing that, Sorrow noticed. He'd have to ask her about that trick someday.

"Come in," she called.

The front door opened and a man entered. It was one of the couriers, the men in Broadtree who received and delivered messages. This man bore a folded piece of paper wrapped in a ribbon. He nodded and smiled at Sorrow as he stepped forward and offered the missive to Mom. "For you, ma'am. News from the south, the boss says."

She reached out with a trembling hand and took the letter. "Thank you," Mom said, a slight quaver in her voice. "I'll make sure the usual fee makes it to the office."

The man nodded. "No rush," he replied, "you've helped us out so much anyway, ma'am." He nodded his head at Sorrow and Mom and took his leave.

Hands trembling, she snapped the ribbon with a fingertip and unfolded the letter. Holding the paper in her left hand, Mom scanned the message, her right hand rising to cover her mouth. As she finished reading, two teardrops fell from her eyes and stained the page.

"Mom?" Sorrow asked, worried. "Are you okay? Do I need to go get that man and make him not make you sad anymore?"

Mom gave a short laugh in response even as her fingers crumpled up the paper and she tossed it away. "No, honey, it's not his fault at all," she told him, her clear blue eyes still watery with unshed tears.

"Oh. Okay." Sorrow didn't want to see Mom upset, but he also wouldn't disobey her wishes.

"Sorrow, dear," she then said, "why don't you go out to the square and see what the immortals are doing there?"

"Aw, Mom," he complained, "but I've already seen it before. I'd rather--"

"Sorrow," she interrupted his excuses, rougher than he had ever heard her speak to him before, "Go. Please." Sternness turned to almost desperation at that last word.

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"Okay," he replied, nodding his head with vigor. "I'll be back just as soon as it's done, though."

He turned and left the small house, taking care not to slam the door behind him. He dashed down the dirt road into the town proper, a small trail of dust rising behind him. Since Mom said he had to watch, he didn't want to be late.

The town square was crowded with children and their parents, watching a pair of immortals standing up on the stage that was raised underneath a canopy. The two men were older, although not the sages with flowing white beards that Sorrow pictured when he heard the word "immortal," instead appearing to be more like Mom's age.

Sorrow took a place at the side of the proceedings as one of the immortals started speaking.

"Citizens of Broadtree," the man said in a quiet-sounding voice that still somehow carried across the entire square, "the Purity Lustre Sect thanks you for allowing us the honor of conducting this examination. If the candidates could form a line over here," he gestured to a small stairway leading up to the stage's height from below, "we'll get this underway."

From inside the crowd, there was jostling as several children a couple years older than Sorrow made their way forward to create a line leading up to the stairway. Amusingly, it was the parents that were more disruptive in trying to get their children better positions in the line, but a couple of town officials moved to restore order, ushering the pushier adults back into the crowd.

"Okay," the immortal said, "let's begin." He gestured to the first child in line, a brown-haired boy. The other immortal lifted the lid of a large case laying on a table behind them. The interior revealed a series of twenty-one clear crystals arranged smallest to largest and recessed in the black felt of the case's interior.

"Choose a crystal, pick it up, and hold it in the palm of your hand," the immortal urged the boy who came up first, "I recommend starting with the smallest one."

Nodding, the boy stepped forward and picked up the smallest of the crystals. Holding the crystal in the palm of his hand, a faint light flickered at its core.

"No discernable talent," the immortal man announced coolly. "Next candidate."

The boy on stage, dejected, put the crystal back into the case and walked back down the stairs past the next candidate. This process was repeated with much the same result for several minutes, none of the candidates getting more than a flicker at the heart of the smallest crystal.

Finally, a well-dressed boy came up on the stage. Sorrow recognized him as Gilbert, son of a ranking magistrate in the town. He swaggered over to the case and, instead of picking up the smallest crystal, picked up the second smallest crystal.

The crystal lit up like a small lantern, a hint of orange tinting it. Gilbert showed a smug smile and looked over at the immortals.

"Good, good," the immortal who had been speaking the whole time affirmed. "Good talent and it looks like you have some fire affinity," he announced. "Since you've filled up that crystal, let's take a look at a bigger one."

Gilbert smirked at the crowd as he returned the crystal to the case. He picked up the next crystal, and it gave the same result.

"Excellent!" the immortal was now visibly excited. "Now another."

Gilbert's smirk widened as, this time after he set down that crystal, he went straight down the line to the very largest one. He held it up proudly, an intent look in his eyes as he gazed into it.

It barely flickered.

Gilbert's brow then furrowed as he strained with visible effort, as though there was some kind of way he could force the recalcitrant crystal to bend to his will.

It still barely flickered.

"Ah, that's one's too large for you, boy, perhaps you should go back several sizes," the immortal recommended, a tinge of disappointment now plain in his voice.

Gilbert still stared at the crystal, and sweat beaded down his brow. The flicker did oscillate minutely faster, but there was no real change to the intensity.

"Stupid thing!" he shouted, throwing the crystal in his fury.

The crowd gasped as it sailed over their heads, while the immortal turned to face Gilbert. "Boy! You have a bit of talent, but it's worth nothing if you've broken that crystal!" he bellowed while the other immortal ran off the stage after the projectile.

With a dull thud, the crystal landed in the dirt right in front of Sorrow. Surprised and seeing the quiet immortal running to come retrieve it, the young boy decided to be helpful and picked the crystal up.

"That isn't necessar--" the immortal started to speak but then froze.

The crystal held in Sorrow's hand blazed with brilliant radiance, a shining brightness that Gilbert hadn't achieved even with the lesser crystals. There was no single color to that light, as prismatic rays scintillated off the surface, a beautiful iridescence that illuminated the young boy's face.

The crowd gasped as the jaws of both immortals dropped. "P-peak Emperor grade talent and full spectrum affinity? Impossible!" the man on stage shouted, all the dignity of an immortal expert lost in that moment.

"Um, young man?" the nearby immortal asked, "Could I have that back, please?"

Sorrow smiled. "Sure thing!" He handed the crystal to the man.

The brilliant light faded as the man took it, and only a steady spark remained at the core of the crystal. He turned to his compatriot. "The crystal's still good," he announced with a nod, "the result should be genuine."

The immortal on the stage closed the case holding the crystals and then flew over the crowd in a single bound. "Give me that," he commanded his fellow immortal.

The second immortal handed it over to him, and the crystal light changed hues, showing green and orange rays, but it did not get any brighter. His eyes blinked rapidly, and his hands began to shake.

"Um, young man," he awkwardly addressed Sorrow. "Could you hold this again for me?"

Sorrow nodded and grinned. "Sure, mister immortal!" He took back the crystal, which once again ignited in a blaze of opalescent light that played over the faces of Sorrow and the two immortals.

"It's true, then," the examining immortal said in a hushed voice. "Can I have it back now?"

Sorrow nodded. "Okay." He handed the crystal back to the man, and the light was again that subdued spark with rays of red and orange. The man held the crystal almost reverently, caressing it before stowing it in a pocket of his robes.

"Could I have the honor of knowing your name, young man?" he asked Sorrow.

"Sure, I'm Sorrow," he replied. "It's nice to meet you, sir!" Mom had taught Sorrow to mind his manners, although he wasn't always very good at it.

"Please, young master Sorrow, don't call this one 'sir,' I don't deserve it," the man pleaded.

"Uh, okay. Is Mister okay?" Sorrow wasn't going to argue if the man didn't want to be a sir, after all.

"Certainly, young master," the immortal agreed. "Would you be willing to make a trip back to the sect with us right now, young master?"

Sorrow frowned. "I would, Mister, but I promised Mom I'd be back as soon as the testing was over, and a man should always keep his word," he declared, his chest puffing with pride.

The two immortals looked at each other with strange expressions as though they could not decide whether to laugh or to cry. "Um, young master," the immortal responded, "that should not be a problem at all. Let's go back and meet your mother right now, why don't we?"

"But what about everybody else here? Don't they still need to be tested?" Sorrow didn't want to be responsible for interrupting the test any more than he had. Mom would be mad if she found out he'd caused trouble.

"Uh, that can wait."

"Um, okay." Sorrow agreed with a cheery smile. It would be rude to insist since the immortals knew their business far better than him.

The crowd in the square began to chatter as Sorrow led the two immortals off to his small house at the edge of the town. The front door swung open as Mom regarded the new arrivals. The rims of her eyelids were still a bit red, but her clear blue eyes were free of tears.

"Apologies, honored masters. If my son has caused you any trouble at all..." she said in worry, her head bowed meekly. "Please forgive him, he's--"

The two men chuckled at that. "Madam, your boy has caused no trouble at all," the examiner reassured her. "Quite the contrary, we're here to induct him as a legacy disciple in the Purity Lustre Sect, but he insisted we needed to see you first."

Shocked, Mom rose her head. "Really? A legacy disciple in your sect?"

"Of course, Madam," the examiner replied.

"Well of course," she agreed, "he has to go, then!" Fresh tears stood in her eyes, but they were now tears of happiness.

Sorrow frowned. "I'll only go if Mom comes with me," he declared.

Mom's expression went panic-stricken at her son making things complicated, but the men only chuckled. "Of course, young master Sorrow," the examiner responded, "that won't be a problem at all. She'll no doubt receive her own mansion, and you'll be able to see her whenever you want to."

"Okay, then, that's all I care about." Sorrow agreed. "So, when do we go?"

"Why not now, young master?" the examiner replied.

And so a simple mishap at the examination held in the town of Broadtree revealed a genius of the like only seen every thousand-- no, ten-thousand years, and the Purity Lustre Sect managed to snatch him up for the low price of ensuring the safety and comfort of his mother.

Sorrow, of course, considered this an excellent deal, but Mom was far more important to him than some stuffy old men and their magic school. He'd make the immortals give her a new mansion every day if that's what it took to make her smile for him, every one of them with a garden of red flowers.