I woke up on a stone slab in what looked like the aftermath of a very expensive explosion.
Glass crunched under my back as I sat up, and the air tasted like burnt copper and regret. Shelves that had probably once held important alchemical supplies were now just sad wooden skeletons supporting nothing but dust and disappointment. A large scorch mark on the ceiling suggested someone had really screwed up a fire spell.
"Okay," I said to the empty room, because talking to yourself is only crazy if you get an answer back. "This is new."
My voice sounded wrong. Not different exactly, just... newer? Like I'd never used it before. Which was weird, because I definitely remembered having conversations. I remembered a lot of things, actually. Just not clearly, like trying to recall a dream after being fully awake for an hour.
I swung my legs off the slab—an altar? A workbench? A really uncomfortable bed?—and noticed a piece of parchment pinned under what looked like a fancy paperweight. The paperweight turned out to be a human skull wearing a tiny wizard hat. Cute.
The note was written in handwriting that could generously be called "barely legible":
*Congratulations! You're probably a homunculus. Sorry about that. I was going for something more impressive, but I ran out of phoenix feathers and had to substitute chicken instead. The good news is you're probably not going to explode. The bad news is everything else.*
*Your name is Kai (I think—my notes got wet). You're roughly 18-ish in human years, though you were technically born yesterday. Don't let that stop you from drinking.*
*The rent on this tower is paid through next month. There's some money in the cookie jar (the one that's not full of eyeballs) and my research notes are in the desk. Try not to burn the place down.*
*Also, you might want to avoid the town guard for a while. Something about "unsanctioned necromancy" and "crimes against nature." They're so dramatic.*
*Good luck!*
*-Master Aldric (probably deceased by the time you read this)*
*P.S. You don't technically need to eat, but food still tastes good. The bakery down the hill makes excellent bread.*
I stared at the note for a solid minute, waiting for the existential dread to kick in. The crushing realization that I was an artificial being with no true purpose, no real past, no—
Nothing.
I felt... mildly annoyed that my creator had such terrible handwriting.
"Homunculus," I said out loud, testing how it felt. "Huh."
It was like being told you were left-handed or had Type O blood. Just a fact about myself that explained some things. Like why I felt weirdly comfortable in this creepy tower, or why my memories felt like someone else's highlight reel.
I found the cookie jar easily enough—it was the only one without eyeballs floating in it. Inside were about thirty silver coins and a note that said "Emergency fund. Try not to spend it all on books." Too late to ask Aldric how he knew I liked books, but I definitely felt drawn to the shelf of intact volumes near the window.
The research notes were more interesting. Apparently, Aldric had been trying to create the "perfect assistant" but had gotten distracted by seventeen different side projects, including an attempt to teach his cat to brew potions (results: inconclusive) and a working theory that most magical accidents were caused by poor time management.
His homunculus notes were scattered across multiple notebooks, written in what appeared to be three different languages, two different hands, and one section that might have been written by the cat. But the gist was clear enough: mix various magical ingredients, add a spark of life energy, hope for the best.
"Chicken feathers instead of phoenix," I muttered, flipping through pages of increasingly illegible scribbles. "That explains why I don't feel like I'm bursting with mystical power."
A knock at the tower door interrupted my reading.
I froze. The note had mentioned avoiding the town guard. But it could be anyone—a neighbor, a merchant, someone looking for Aldric who didn't know he'd kicked the bucket.
The knocking came again, more insistent.
"Master Aldric?" a voice called. "It's Ren from the village. I brought the herbs you ordered."
I glanced around the destroyed lab, then at myself. I was wearing simple brown clothes that were clean but felt like they'd never been worn before. No bloodstains, no obvious signs of dark magic. I probably looked normal enough.
"Coming!" I called back, trying to make my voice sound older and more wizard-like.
I made it three steps before realizing I had no idea how to pretend to be my dead creator. Or how to explain why a teenager was answering the door at the local mad scientist's tower.
The smart thing would be to hide until they left.
Instead, I opened the door.
A girl about my age stood on the doorstep, holding a basket of what smelled like medicinal herbs. She had dirt under her fingernails and the kind of practical clothes that said she worked with plants for a living. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
"Oh," she said. "You're not Master Aldric."
"Nope," I agreed. "He's... not available right now."
She looked past me into the tower, taking in the visible destruction through the doorway. "Is everything alright? There was a loud noise yesterday evening, and no one's seen the Master since."
I could have lied. Made up some story about Aldric being sick, or traveling, or indisposed. Instead, I found myself saying, "He's dead. Magical accident, I think. I'm Kai."
Ren blinked. "Oh. I'm... sorry for your loss?"
"Thanks, but I only knew him for about ten minutes before he died. We weren't close."
This was apparently not the response she'd expected, because she stared at me for a long moment before asking, "Are you his apprentice?"
"Something like that," I said, which was technically true. "Did you want to come in? The place is a mess, but the tea pot survived."
It was only after I'd said it that I realized I had no idea if we actually had tea. Or if I knew how to make it. But Ren was already stepping inside, setting her basket on the least destroyed table.
"I'm Ren," she said, like we were having a perfectly normal conversation. "I supply herbs to most of the magic users in the area. Master Aldric was one of my best customers, even if he did request some unusual things."
"Like what?"
"Last month he asked for 'herbs that smell like Thursday.' I gave him rosemary and hoped for the best."
I laughed, surprising myself. "That sounds about right. His notes are... creative."
Ren smiled. "So what happens now? Are you taking over his work?"
I looked around the ruined laboratory, at the scattered notes and broken equipment, at the research that had literally created me and then immediately been abandoned.
"I guess so," I said. "Though I might need to clean up first."
And that was how I met my first friend as a newly minted homunculus: by being completely honest about a completely insane situation and somehow having it work out.
It was a good start.