Talking to Myself: Year One

Well, it’s now been a year since these damned deva’s wings of mine up and sprouted. Nobody’s ever had it on record as a “side effect” of celestial heritage before, I could well be the first.
 
“Aunt Fyg” snooped her way into my life around that time, a pure chance meeting fueled by her intense curiosity and not much else. She knew Rialto, was one of the “Heroes of Craysilt” herself, but she didn’t know me. Well, she didn’t know me YET. Fyg had to see for herself the strange young man that just overnight grew into a deva, and was just as surprised as I was to find our mutual connection to the last Aasimar in my family line. It was a welcome connection, however, as the rest of the professionals that had come to examine me were very cold and uncaring to my plight. Of all the minds that had met to look me over and determine what was happening, only Fyglet, as she said Ray used to call her, was able to at least pin down that the transformation was both benign and had concluded in full, posing me no further threat of injury or harm.
 
Fyg was therefore the only one I trusted with the talk of the voices. I knew Aasimar often received communication from beyond through a bond with a celestial spirit. What I did not know was how or if this would manifest for me, until the first time I heard the voice.
 
It was faint at first, an intrusive thought in an unfamiliar tone and timbre. It “sounded” like a dictation, not a monologue. That was how I knew it was something different. Aunt Fyg knew I wasn’t crazy, and she helped me rule out several illnesses and the possibility of possession by an extraplanar force. At great length and after careful study, we determined I had, in fact, acquired a celestial passenger of my own.
 
She’s said she’ll keep in touch, and help me pin down who this being is, what they want, and maybe even why I’ve manifested the gifts I have. Honestly, I’m just happy she’ll keep in touch. Aunt Fyg is delightful, and I understand why Rialto cherished her like he did.
 
…. I don’t know how I know he did… why I would say he did… but it’s almost like I could feel that he did as I wrote those words. Weird little coincidences, am I right?