Author's note: I do not own TrollHunters. Book The Adventure Begins by Richard Ashley Hamilton, based off of the Netflix series from Guillermo del Toro's TrollHunters was heavily referenced and makes for excellent supplemental reading. A huge thank you to my beta reader, Tunafishprincess, author of the fanfiction Blue Moon Rising and other works.

He was running out of time. Surrounded by Vespa parts, he twisted around, searching the attachments for some sort of clue that any of these pieces belonged together, or even to the same model.

His time was running out.

As if in confirmation the blaring sound of his alarm yanked him from the dungeon of parts dealers. He smacked the device and rubbed his head. The throbbing from last night hadn't ceased. His head still ached, soreness following the muscles up the sides of his head and down his neck. Maybe he could alleviate it when he stood under the shower.

He really needed to get a better shampoo. The top back of his head itched. He massaged the suds into his scalp to treat the dandruff, doing so gently with the back of his head when he realized how tender it was. Did he hit his head last night?

Toby awaited him. "We're going to be late, Jimbo." As a peace offering, Jim held up the paper sack he'd prepared for his friend and offered that they take the shortcut to make up for the time he'd lost cooking. Dreading the day ahead, Jim rode hard on the slopes, building momentum. Toby's complaints trailed faintly after him, suddenly lost in the air as Jim broke away from gravity to jump his bike into the canal. In this moment, when his body was suspended, so were his fears, that sense of dread, and seemingly time itself. It didn't matter in that moment that he was an ordinary high school student living an ordinary life. For a second he was something else, if only momentarily airborne.

But life hit hard as cement.

Suddenly his vision stopped registering, and sound was drifting back to him slowly. Reality was the coarse cement under him, though his body was not certain that the direction was down.

"Jimbo!" His name broke through the haze. He was flat on his back, his head elevated by the bulk of his helmet. Sunlight reminded him which way up was. It took him some time, what felt like minutes, to gather first his breath and eventually his voice.

"What happened?"

"You must have fallen. Why didn't you wait for me? I told you to slow down!" Jim accepted the outstretched hand and hauled himself into a sitting position. He reached to rub his head when a bulk dropped into his lap. At first he didn't recognize it, but eventually concluded he'd split his helmet down the middle. Always wear a helmet, his mother's voice echoed in his mind. He looked around. The canal. A pile of rocks. Did his bike hit a stone? Or was his coordination suffering because of the headache?

"Do you need to go to the nurse?"

The bell sounded. "No time!" He yanked himself and his bike upright and charged up the ramp, Toby trailing after him.

•••

He scratched at his head absentmindedly. He'd picked up a habit of combing his fingers through his hair in class, and it was becoming more frequent. Occasionally he'd pause in his writing to look at his fingertips, covered in a thin film of gray dust, tiny chips of dandruff under his nails, similar to shards of stone. The itchy areas were on either side on the back of his head, and the only thing he could figure was that he had a skin condition that was going to make him bald. His voice was deepening, as expected with puberty, but to jump from that to balding? He thought bitterly to himself that he couldn't ask his father about their genetics.

Mr. Strickler of course noticed Jim's lack of focus, or rather poorly directed focus, and called him out.

"Jim, would you agree?"

"Sir?" Maybe he did hit his head too hard. Besides the incessant headache, he could only hear his heart throbbing in his head. He had no idea what his teacher was asking and he knew Claire was watching and his hair was probably ashy and he should stop scratching. He babbled something in response and was interrupted thankfully by the bell. "Jim, may I have a word?"

Jim looked up expectantly as he prepared his bag, which he'd accidentally rested too close to the edge. It fell over, dumping the contents. His coordination was really suffering today. Maybe he should visit the nurse? "Jim, you're distracted," his teacher stated, and helped him to gather the contents. Yeah, maybe that was all.

"Sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"I know it's just you and your mother, and that you want to help her-"

"She's just really tired, Mr. Strickler. She's been working double shifts at the clinic." It surprised him how considerate his teacher was being, having expected to be chewed up and spat out. It was like a requirement to teach in Arcadia high to be able to tear apart a kid with just words, something señor Uhl was notorious for.

"I believe I'm long overdue for a conversation with her." He scribbled out a sticky note and held it out to Jim. "Have her call me, please. And feel free to drop by my office if you ever need to talk."

"Yeah, I'll do that." He pocketed the note and headed to his next class, holding his breath until he was truly free from Mr. Strickler's watching eyes. Before he reached the door, his teacher called him once more. "Oh, and Jim, if you fancy Miss Nuñez, I submit that talking to will be much more effective than staring at." Jim smiled awkwardly before finally getting away.

•••

His heart continued to throb in his head. P.E. didn't help. In fact the physical exertion exacerbated the headache and amplified the thudding of his heart like a massive clock in his head.

He was running out of time.

He couldn't justify this reasoning, that panic that life was slipping past him, like he was dreaming of the disfigured Vespa parts. So, what was he waiting for?

He saw Claire in the bleachers with her friends Darci and Mary, looking something up on Mary's phone. He straightened his gym uniform and willed his body to not betray his recent clumsiness. The pounding in his head amplified with anxiety, but he was going to go through with this. He summoned his courage and opened his mouth, and immediately regret it.

"Buenas noches!" What?!

The three witnesses seemed to be thinking the same thing by the way they were starting at him.

"You… speak Spanish?" Claire was talking to him. Good thing? Bad thing? He couldn't sort through the throbbing anxiety to find an answer, stuttering over syllables that were neither English nor Spanish.

"C'mon, Claire," Darci offered, she and Mary standing to detract from the sudden awkwardness. Claire followed suit but then paused.

"Do you like Shakespeare?"

"Um, what?" Wow, she was still talking to him.

She pulled out a flier from her notebook, depicting a balcony scene with the title in ornamental writing. "The school play. We're having a hard time getting boys to audition." She smiled at Jim, tucking her hair behind her ear before gracefully catching up with her friends. He would do anything for that smile.

"Hasta huevo!" Like learn proper Spanish one day.

•••

"So, good news, dude! My orthodontist says I'm almost done with my braces! Only four more years!"

Jim was glowering at Steve from across the pavilion as they walked, oblivious to Toby's news. "Nothing to see here," Toby attempted to deter.

"We can't just let him do that." Was… that a growl?

"Oh yes we can. If Steve's terrorizing Eli, he's not terrorizing us."

Why did he feel constantly like he was running out of time? The beating of his heart like a clock matched the rhythm of his feet as he marched across the breezeway.

"Tell me again, dweeb face. Tell me again about the creatures, and maybe I'll let you out," Steve instructed the locker.

"Or you could let him out now." His voice was deeper than he intended, catching the attention of all the students around him.

"Hi, Jim!" Eli called out hopefully from the locker, quickly disrupted by a bang from Steve's elbow on the metal.

Steve carried on, ignoring Jim. "Where were we? You were telling me about the monsters you saw this morning, with fangs and- what was it again?"

"Stone for skin! In the canals!" The canals? The stones he tripped his bike over-

"Stone for skin? Man, Eli, you really have an imagination."

"Look, Steve, seriously. Just let him out." Time slowed. Steve was reaching for him but his vision was shrouded in black.

"Palchuck! What's going on here?" Just like in the canals, sound reached him from far away before his vision started to register again. Jim blinked away the blackness. Coach intervened. How much time passed just now? At least this time he was upright.

•••

"You've been really out of it, Jimbo. What did the nurse say?"

"I didn't go."

"Are you at least going to talk to your mom? What if you have a concussion?"

"I'm fine, Tobes. Just tired." They parted ways.

It was through Toby that Jim discovered what took place in the breezeway. Apparently he had an appointment with Steve Friday afternoon. Not that he heard him, it was like he'd blacked out on his feet.

•••

Jim began his nightly routine, switching on the TV to decompress. The headache was getting sharper, pulling the muscles in his neck. He rubbed the sides of his head, applying pressure with his fingertips and pulling back toward the source of his pain. His hands froze when he found it. He scratched it. This was not dandruff. This wasn't even skin or hair. There was something hard on either sides of his head. It repulsed him to feel something hard coming out of his skin. Was it part of his skull? He had a helmet on this morning, he couldn't have cracked open his head. There wasn't blood, just skin around this hard bump like around his nails. He decided to just leave it alone. He was the only one home. Maybe he would talk to his mom the next time he saw her as Toby suggested.

Sleeping on it didn't make it better. No matter what excuse he made himself, he could not deny that there were hard stone things protruding from the back of his head. He shuffled through a box on his closet for a cap. Looking in the mirror he decided he looked normal enough. Maybe it was fortunate that Toby had an appointment at the dentist's today, and tomorrow, or he would definitely freak out and equate it with brain damage.

•••

"I don't believe that is proper school attire," Mr. Strickler's voice cut through Jim. Class had barely started and already he'd violated dress code and dreaded exposing the back of his head the rest of the day.

"No, sir." He tried to avoid looking at Claire's direction to see if she'd laugh with the class, and for an instant he imagined a look of terror on her face at discovering horns growing from his head, the class gasping, someone shouting "demon child" and the other students screaming. This image drove him to quickly ruffle his hair, forcing some volume in to hide the growths. Mr. Strickler lingered over him for longer than he was comfortable.

"After school stop by my office," he instructed. Great. His AP history teacher was going to skin him before Steve would get the chance.

•••

He sighed heavily to gather his courage before knocking on the door. It was just a dress code violation, how bad would this be? Except that these horns kept getting bigger, and he wouldn't be able to hide them much longer. Fortunately after they broke through his skin, the tension that pulled the muscles across his head ceased. The skin around them was tender, but the migraine was over with. "Come in."

He forced a smile. "Hey, mister Strickler."

"Ah, young Atlas. Have a seat." His teacher gestured to the piano stool in front of his desk on his way to the windows. Jim obeyed, tempted to raise the seat but too anxious about what punishment he'd earned to go through with the action. Instead he watched Mr. Strickler shut each of the blinds. "I didn't know you were a baseball fan."

"What? Baseball's my favorite!" He chuckled nervously to lighten the mood, but was made instantly uncomfortable when Mr. Strickler turned the lock on the door. He turned on another lamp to compensate for the sunlight he'd blocked out.

"Really? What's your favorite team?"

"Um…" Habitually Jim scratched his head. What were the local teams?

"You don't have lice, do you?"

"What? No, sir. Maybe dandruff…"

"Then you won't mind me looking." Jim's breath caught in his throat as the adult stepped closer. The teacher poked his pen through Jim's locks, right above the deformation. He couldn't breathe. He was totally exposed. It was like these horns were his vulnerability and he was totally naked in front of his teacher. This could be worse than his nightmares. "I know what you're going through." Mr. Strickler leaned away.

He was calm? How could anyone be calm about this?! "What's happening to me?"

To Jim's terror he chuckled. "Puberty."

"That's not funny!"

"Considering the circumstances, this is perfectly natural."

"What are "the circumstances"?"

Mr. Strickler exhaled, hands steepled, as if preparing to teach a lesson. "There is a vast world beneath our feet, hidden from humans for centuries."

"Oh my god, I'm Satan's spawn!" His teacher's eyes bulged with surprised, and then he began to roar and snort with laughter.

"Certainly not, young Atlas! Beneath the surface is a world teaming with various creatures you must have heard legends about. Trolls, gnomes, the likes. And then there's us." He rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "We are what are called changelings. You are descended from one, a hybrid. You have trollish genes that are starting to surface in your transition from adolescence."

"Troll puberty," he repeated.

"Something like that."

"What's a… change- thing?"

"A changeling is an evolved troll that is able to take on a human appearance."

"You're… not human." He tried to be polite with his tone and word choice, but he had to process this new information out loud. "I'm not human." His instructor didn't speak, waiting for the reaction after the words settled like dust. "I'm dreaming. That's it. Just a horrible dream that I'm a monster and my teacher-" Stay polite, he instructed himself- "is going to give me a mountain of homework."

"Educating you on your place in this new world is a must," he jested.

"I don't believe it. If I'm like you, why am I the one with the…" he pointed at his skull.

At that, Mr. Strickler stood his full height before the room lit up with a green flash. Jim winced at the sudden glare and blinked at the form before him.

Though this creature shared some of the same traits, such as the large nose and grey streaked hair, this clearly wasn't the human he always saw his teacher as. His skin was green and reflected light like unpolished stone, his torso and arms had grooves, four teeth poked up against his upper lip, and his ears were pointed. As Jim's eyes drifted up slowly, he felt his heart rate increasing, almost falling into a panic at the glowing eyes that lit up the green stone around them, but when he finally saw the horns his alarm ceased. He did have horns. They had a bony color, and curved behind him in points. Somehow knowing that he wasn't the only one with these unusual growths made him feel less alone, and his heart rate returned to normal. He felt unusually calm, now that it finally sank in. He was not human, and he was not the only one.

Mr. Strickler, if that's what he should continue to call him, watched Jim's eyes linger above his head. "Do you want to touch them?"

Jim closed his mouth, which he hadn't noticed until then hung open, and then nodded subtly. This stony creature bowed slowly to him, and warily Jim traced a finger on one. He was too overwhelmed to want to do more. There was a knock at the door and a flash of light, and his professor straightened to his full height once more.

"Mr. Strickler," a gentle voice muffled through the door.

"One moment." He opened the door to Claire, whose eyes widened as much as Jim's at seeing each other.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" She seemed embarrassed for Jim, and he deduced she probably assumed like he had that his being summoned here was related to the dress code violation.

"Not at all." He turned back to Jim, gesturing to the door. "Don't forget to have your mother call me so we can meet up to discuss your bright future," he concluded their meeting. Jim was confused, but grateful that his professor painted such an appealing picture in front of the girl he had a crush on. He smiled nervously as he passed Claire, who beamed at him with her bright eyes that gave him the feeling of breaking from gravity.

•••

How could he focus on studying for Spanish when there was a whole other world he was part of? Trolls? Gnomes? Were there elves and wizards, too? He stepped outside to clear his mind. A gentle breeze touched his face in greeting, playing with the hair around his horns. As otherworldly as this headgear was, it felt natural for him, as natural as his teeth. He took off his shoes and socks to feel the blades of grass under his feet, trying to freeze time in his mind and savor every detail of this world as he knew it before it flipped upside down. The sunset. The ripple of his shirt in the building breeze. The birds singing before they roost for the night. The neighbors dogs howling in the difference in the change of air pressure.

A rapid change of pressure. He poked a finger in his ear. It was like pressure building in a cabin, hurting his ears, filling the air with static. As suddenly as it began, it ceased. He rubbed the base of his ears and looked around. The clouds were normal, no approaching storm or anything unusual. The birds and dogs were quiet, he could only hear the hum of the highway in the distance. He went from rubbing his ears to rubbing his horns. How long could he keep up this facade?