Prologue
My master always used to tell me, "Alchemy is not magic, nor is it a toy." To receive something, you'll have to be prepared to lose the world, your world. Humans were never meant to cross that path. Breaking through the threshold of the gods, trying to give what they don't have.
"Isabelle...please wake up..." soft cries filled an empty room. He loomed over the body of a girl, her face gentle in peaceful sleep, a single tear falling onto her cheek. The poor girl's body was as stiff as the alchemy table she lay on.
A gentle hand pressed against her cheek, wiping his tears away. "I'll bring you back...I promise."
"I won't stop, I won't sleep, not until you're with me again..."
Chapter One
Where am I… I found myself asking that cliche question. I awoke with nothing but my senses and a rag that stuck onto my sickly frame. The air carried a fresh aroma, a morning breakfast mixed with dust and sickness. Wooden furniture, battered and worn, surrounded me as it clung to wooden walls riddled with settling dust.
Light poured through the roof in great rays, dust motes drifting like dancers in a limelight meant for me alone. The sound of wooden floorboards creaking as whoever remained above me walked, dust highlighting their path.
My breath caught in my throat, almost by instinct. Fingers dug into whatever lay beneath me only to feel something soft and delicate. My eyes fell on a bed, adorned with a white sheet lined with golden thread in an intricate design that mimicked vines. It was pristine looking, almost like it didn't belong, not in a heap like this.
My hands rubbed through the fabric, watching as its threads danced between my fingers in waves.
They were long yet slender, surprisingly kept and polished. I felt strange and new. I brought my hand to my lips; they were soft, as delicate as a young woman's...
CLANG! A sudden crash echoed from a room above me, dust falling onto my figure as the sound subsided. My ears caught a voice, swearing under their breath. The startling noise kept me at the bed's end for a moment. Though the sound of that voice felt familiar to me, curiosity fought over my fear as I stood. My hands dragging across the bed one last time, rising to my feet, only to stumble immediately.
The thud rattled through me, sharper than I expected. I hissed under my breath, clutching at my knee. My body felt frail and alien, as if the strings connecting my thoughts to my limbs were still being tied.
My palm pressed against the dirty floor, splinters biting into my skin. I pushed myself upright in shallow, shaky breaths, each inhale stirring the dust.
Once I caught my bearings, I stared at the door that lingered right before me. A sigh escaped my lips, legs shaking like a newborn deer as I took my first step.
One foot then another, each one just as clumsy as the last; it felt as though the ground was shifting beneath me. I barely managed to get towards the door, only to be met with a spiral staircase that seemed to never end.
My lips pursed together, hesitantly taking that first step forward. The moment my bare feet pressed against the hard wooden step, an ominous creak rang through the path up.
....
Everything went silent, my hand tightened against the rail till my knuckles were white, my body as stiff as a board. It felt like the whole house was listening in on me, aware of my presence.
"Isabelle?"
That voice called out to me once more, a sudden burst of light shone down the stairwell and onto me. Hair shifted on my shoulders, a strand of blonde catching in my eye. My lips slightly parted as I saw who stood before me.
"You're awake...." Said a man whose hair was long and a fluffy silver, framing his sharp jaw and hazel brown eyes. His shirt fit his physique, boots made from animal fur.
He was stunning, but what he saw was a mess. A fragile child that hung onto the stair rails for dear life, with emerald green eyes filled with worry and weariness.
"I'm sorry..." I managed to speak, my voice shaky and raspy.
"B-but who are you...?"
I can hear the man's breath shake under my question, but he hid it behind a small smile. His heavy boots carried him down in a rhythm too graceful for their weight, not making a sound. His waist, adorned with a waist cloth made from crimson scales, jingled like keys at his movements. It was like its own melody.
"Here, let me help you." He stretched his hand out to me, ready to take it, it was pale, soft, yet bruised.
I reached out, hesitant, and the instant our fingers touched, the world shifted. The polished steps beneath me seemed to melt away. My feet left the floor, weightless, as though the stairwell itself had surrendered me to the air.
He guided me upward—not pulling, but directing, each motion effortless, his hand the anchor to which my body answered. I rose, drifting toward the stairwell's crest, the distance between us shrinking as he led me through air as though it were water. Time slowed: the dust hung still, the light froze in golden strands, and I was caught in his orbit, ascending, while his gaze never once faltered from mine.
Midway, he let go, and I drifted on my own. My feet connected with the wooden floors once more at the stairwell's peak.
Unlike the rugged feeling of crystallized dust on hardwood, it felt polished and smooth to the touch. I opened my eyes to see myself on top of the stairwell, watching down on the man who seemingly took my place.
The smell of incense and the early morning breeze wafted through the air to greet me. A gentle gust brushing through my hair prompted me to turn. A gentle breeze blew against red blinds. The wooden floors were polished, practically shining under the sunlight that beat through the glass window.
Elaborate furniture littered the space, a fireplace planted against a wall made of stone,
He stepped up the staircase until he was inches away, prompting me to back up. His never-waning smile softened at the edges, touched with something like grief.
"You gave me quite a fright," he said, his voice a low murmur. He didn't move closer, just held his ground, giving me space. "How are you feeling?"
I could only shake my head, my fingers nervously tugging at the hem of my shirt. Only managing to stare at him with weary eyes.
"Oh of course. Forgive me." He gave a slight, formal bow of his head. "Here I am forgetting my manners again, Alaric Demetrius. A pleasure to meet you." The words were practiced, but his eyes were earnest.
He knelt, bringing his hazel eyes level with mine, trying to see past the curtain of my hair.
"Before—" I said, louder than intended, frightening myself. He raised his brow, slightly shocked at my sudden outburst as well.
"Before, you called me Isabelle..." My voice trailed off, hoping he'd finish it. I looked at him for a bit, as if something was dawning on him.
"Why, of course!" He smiled. "That's your name, is it not?"
My face hung to my feet. Idle hands tugging at the ends of my shirt that hovers over my lower thigh like a draping dress. I took a moment, nodding, more to myself as I committed it to memory.
"Isabelle," I said softly to myself, testing the name on my tongue.
A sheen of tears glossed over his hazel eyes, and he blinked them away quickly, the never-waning smile finally wavering for a single, heartfelt second. "Yes," he whispered.
"Your name is Isabelle, Isabelle Lockheart."
***
I sat down before a dinner table that was littered with food from all sorts of different places displayed on wooden plates. Over-easy eggs shimmered in the sunlight, their whites sizzling into the crisp bread beneath.
Not too far from me lay a bountiful batch of pastries, their outer crusts glistening with a thin sheen of butter pressed against sausages, bronze and perfect. I tried to reach for one, only to stop at the scent of gravy that wafted past me.
My eyes raised to see a floating pot pouring the steaming stew into my plate. It poured over itself as if it were solid before melding together into a piping hot broth, soaking into the bread.
"Please, help yourself," Mr. Demetrius offered, his hand gesturing towards the hearty meal. It was somewhat intimidating at the sight of it, though I felt a pang in my stomach just staring.
Hesitantly, I tore a piece of bread, watching as it desperately tried to cling together before separating in a satisfying break. I soaked it in the gravy, watching as it ran up the bread, before putting it between my lips and chewing.
"It's good!" I found myself saying it before the bread had even gone down.
Mr. Demetrius looked taken aback, almost as if he didn't expect such a response, yet his eyes softened and his smile was only slight. "I'm glad."
"Did you make this?" I pondered, hoping to start a conversation, but he waved his hand dismissively at my query.
"All this was courtesy of Alister; he too is excited for your return."
I looked down at my meal, watching as the gravy rippled softly at the slightest of movements. "Alister?"
Mr. Demetrius pointed upwards, my eyes following his finger and drawn to the pot from before, its lid dancing with mirth with its movements.
"O-oh, uh, hello," I spoke softly, jumping in my seat as the pot suddenly clattered to the table, yet not spilling a drop.
"He's rather shy, but don't let it discourage you." His warmth was infectious, his face turning to a photo on the wall. It shook with a nervous fidget before settling.
"Despite his distance, he did miss you; he put his all in this meal the moment he noticed your hands move."
"His enthusiasm proved a touch hazardous—he dropped a pan upon my hand." He laughed, a little less reserved than before. Alister shuffled again, a silent apology. Mr. Demetrius's laughter dies down, his features more serious and somber.
"I'd love for you to make this place your home once again." The words hung in the air between us. Home, a word that's supposed to have meaning to me, to ignite a warmth in my chest; alas, it hasn't sparked anything, not even a jog of memory. I'm supposed to know the feeling of the floorboards, the shape of the walls that surround me...yet—
This place remained to be nothing but a beautiful fantasy, a stranger housing a stranger. But that's all I know. Was it ok for me to take his offer, to be treated nicely for something someone else did, for someone...he knew before?
"Right, I'll be in your care," I bowed softly. My golden locks brushed against the wooden table, eyes closed as I accepted his grace.