Ismael woke up with a stabbing pain in the back. He turned and grabbed his back. But then he didn't reach for the smooth back he normally had, but instead filled something rigid but also soft. He was startled: if it really could have worked, he would not believe it, but if this worked, the other should have worked. He looked at his bedside table. There was a small white note on it. He took it in his hands and read what was written on it. «Wonder what has grown on your back. Yes, it's mine, the devil. A little gesture of bad will to show them who the boss is. These things are meant for stability when flying. But because they already have no problem with stability when flying, they cannot use them. They are stubborn, big and will hopefully hinder them in every situation in everyday life and you also look pretty stupid. You don't have to say thank you. Your humble devil. »When Ismael had read the last word, a smile was reflected on his face. He jumped out of bed and went to the mirror. His eyes lit up. In the mirror he saw that on his back were two huge wingshad grown and that over one night. The wings were made of bones that grew out of his back. On these thick bones, they were equipped with many white feathers, which together formed a surface. Ismael stroked his wings and thought, "These things are horrible, chunky, ugly and completely impractical. So perfect for me. » At that moment a high, tearful voice screamed: "Ismael, come quickly." Ismael immediately recognized who the voice belonged to. It belonged to his mother. Ismael turned from the mirror and ran out of his room as fast as he could. When he stepped out the door, he saw his mother standing at the other end of the hall. When he came closer to her, he heard her sob. She too had got wings overnight, they were smaller and more gray. But she didn't seem to care. She got up and hugged Ismael. "What's the matter now, mother?" Ismael asked, trying to free himself from the hug. The mother sobbed: "He is dead." "Who's dead," and Ismael's eyes widened. " Your father. When I woke up, he was dead. » Ismael winced, then pushed the mother, this stood gently aside in front of the door and opened the door. What he saw almost made his heart stand still. His father was floating in the middle of the room. He was pale, his eyes bulged from his eye sockets and his mouth was wide open. "He was suffocated, I think?" Said his mother behind him, who had also entered the room. "But if it did, who would just kill a person like that for no reason?" She said, again in a calmer voice. With these words, Ismael looked like scales from her eyes. He turned and pushed his mother aside so that she fell to the floor and ran out of the room. "Ismael:", his mother shouted behind him: "What is it? Are you all right?" " Wait here." Ismael called back, "I'll be right back." and he disappeared into his room. He ran to the bookshelf. Yesterday he had stored the magic book here. He was sure of it. But now it was gone. Instead, there was a gap where it had been.