"It is the cornerstone of all alchemy that everything is built from something else. To transmute something, one must first deconstruct it into its lesser parts, then reform it into what they desire. There are many mysteries in alchemy, but none bigger than life. Alchemy cannot create life; it can only mimic it. So I ask, where does life truly come from? Where does the soul originate from and return to upon death?"
– From "Beyond the Alchemist's Realm," by Sir Maximus Frantz
His army had been conspired against and defeated, his best commanders and alchemists fought to the bitter end. Yet he had still managed to ransack the city that barred his entry and kept him from seeing his mother.
It had all been for naught, however.
Despite standing there, coated in his own blood, as well as the blood of his friends and foes alike, Olivier couldn't get the image of his mother out of his head. It pressed against his consciousness, even as the deadliest alchemists on the continent stared him down like hungry dogs.
His mother had been pale, staring listlessly at the ceiling. A pool of blood had gathered next to her head, with the source being a small trickle along the side of her mouth. She had been surrounded by an alchemist's circle like none he had seen before. Even a small kingdom wouldn't have been able to afford its materials.
That had been hours ago; in that time, the battle of armies had been decided. Now night had clawed its way over the sky, and Olivier stood close to his mother's house, which overlooked most of the city. He wanted to lament her death, but he no longer had the energy to do so.
Standing at the epicenter of it all was the murderer of his mother, Victor. He was her other son and Olivier's twin. The two of them looked identical, except for the small mole on the side of Olivier's eye. They had been watching each other for a long time at that point.
Nary a soul spoke, but contempt ran deep in everyone's eyes as they stared at Olivier's bloody figure. Had anyone had a shred less of humility, they'd be hurling the most dogged insults at the man. Instead, they waited for him to make the first move.
In an odd moment, however, it was Victor who made the first move.
"The golden age of alchemy is over." He declared. Those surrounding Victor looked at him with scowls; it was a truth they didn't want to confront, but at some point, they had to.
"…" Olivier remained silent. He had been conserving the ever-dwindling amount of energy he had saved up. Those who stood opposite to him, despite outnumbering him, were afraid. He could see it, clear as the stars above them.
"Olivier, would you want to see your mother one last time?" Victor asked softly.
This caused a seething eruption of hatred.
"He has to die! My lands and my people are nothing but ash because of him!"
"Like hell that bastard is going to get to see his mother again! What about my family? I never got to see them again!"
"He's going to die right where he stands, Victor! He killed your mother! What sick man can kill their own mother?!"
Victor took a step back from the situation with a solemn face, as if he were apologizing for even considering it. As if he were the most noble, most infallible soul to live.
Olivier knew his brother's tendencies; he knew that on the inside, he was smiling. He also knew Victor had made them believe he killed his mother.
Nobody would believe the roaming vagabond over the highly respected aristocrat – especially not one who could easily hold an audience with the king.
One of the men set forth, his sword drawn to a point. Olivier watched the man get closer, and in his heart of hearts, he was calm. In hours, his life had turned completely around, but his mind didn't feel regret, anger, or fear.
He existed as any other creature; he had a path of life and death, and there was no use worrying over the end.
"…" He looked at his brother, who was behind the now advancing mob of alchemists.
Olivier wasn't foolish enough to take a death lying down, however. He was going to go out on his own terms. In moments, Olivier had his hand inside the skull of the first man who had walked forward.
His corpse fell to the ground unceremoniously as blood dripped from Olivier's clawed fingers. Crow feathers that grew along his arms flexed as he flew into the air and into the building behind him – into his mother's house.
He landed next to her undisturbed body, lying in the midst of the alchemical equations. He would die with her, with the only person he had ever cared for. Minutes passed before anyone entered the home. It was only Victor who stepped beyond the door, and he did so without any rush.
"You're bleeding all over mom's floor." He remarked with a frown.
"Then I'm bleeding for our mother who cannot cry for her sons."
"Hmm…" Victor hummed as he took out a small knife and cut along the palm of his hand. "I think you only have a few minutes to live, so as twins, it's only fitting we should bleed together."
Olivier didn't wait and instead appeared in front of his brother, tackling him to the ground and tearing the knife out of his hands. All within the blink of an eye. Victor was an equally skilled alchemist, but he wasn't a fighter.
Olivier wrapped his hands around the neck of his brother and began choking him.
"I have- something- to tell you!" Victor rasped with his last few breaths as his face changed colors. He slammed his hands against Olivier's wrists, trying to freeze them, trying to melt them, trying to do anything – but nothing was working. Olivier's alchemy was highly defensive, and anything slipping through and injuring him, he flat-out ignored.
Victor had miscalculated, as he often did in Olivier's presence; they were each other's worst enemies. Their knowledge of each other would lead to elaborate fights. Still, in the end, they always managed to surprise each other with something seemingly out of character.
In this instance, he had thought his brother would do anything to survive, not give up his life to kill him. He had never considered that his brother thought that life and death were equally meaningful and meaningless.
"F-f-uck you!" Victor wheezed as he snapped his fingers.
From their dead mother's body, a blinding purple light quickly exploded throughout the room, engulfing and killing both of the wide-eyed brothers.
…
A subtle smell of the ocean drifted throughout the air while seagulls cawed as they caught the wind and drifted in place in the air.
The beautifully blue sky and the crystal-like sun shone down onto a small coastal city, but not underneath the leaves of a shaded tree. There, quiet words were spoken so faintly, it was a wonder if they were ever uttered at all.
"You forgot about me… It was so long ago, and you forgot." A fleeting female's voice echoed in the quiet air. A moment later, it too was forgotten.
Olivier stirred from his uncomfortable spot, leaning on the bark. His back ached as he leaned forward with a pained face.
"Where?" Olivier thought out loud.
"Brother?" A voice called out.
Olivier froze; it was a sight he hadn't seen in four centuries. Across from him, standing in the sun, was his brother. However, he was no longer an adult, but a small, weak child.
Victor spied at Olivier under the tree, as if he hesitated to do so. A moment later, Olivier sprang up and tried to connect with his philosopher's stone – only to find it, and even more importantly, his alchemical heart, were missing.
Olivier looked down to find that his body had also returned to its childlike form. He could feel his arms trembling.
"You aren't supposed to be here," Victor muttered with a horrified expression. It was a face he hadn't exposed to the world in many, many years. "You're supposed to be how you were in the past. But you remember."
Olivier paused and looked around, his lip curling in disgust as he saw the buildings he had known a long time ago.
"You've committed a taboo," Olivier mumbled.
"…" Victor didn't respond; he took a step back.
"We aren't supposed to be here! What did you do?!" Olivier bent down and swiped up a sharp stone that had been lying in the grass, among the many others.
Victor took another step back as his breath began to pick up.
Olivier ignored his panic and sprinted forward, preparing to kill his brother. It didn't matter that they were younger now. It didn't matter that they seemed to be re-experiencing their childhood. Victor had to die.
Victor braced himself as his brother threw his full weight on top of him. Olivier let out a light grunt and quickly brought the stone down. Victor barely managed to brace himself; it was dirty, but so was Olivier's swing as neither of them had gotten used to their weakened bodies yet. They were sloppy and hard to control.
The rock was brought down against Victor's arm, leaving a large gash in it. He quickly screamed in pain and clutched the wound. However, Olivier quickly jumped up, holding his arm in the very same spot.
"Mmmnngh!" Olivier gritted his teeth as he momentarily buckled over, blood gushing out between his fingers. He stole a glance at his brother, in the same situation as him, but he had never picked up a weapon.
Victor hadn't swung back just then.
The pain was different as well. His soul was willing to deal with the pain; it was used to it. His nerves, however, screeched with the torn flesh, clearly having forgotten how to cope with it.
'No! This body hasn't forgotten how to deal with pain; it just hasn't learned to yet. How did we get to the past? What did Victor do?!'
Olivier looked at his wound, then at his brother once again. The wounds were in the same spot, they bled the same amount, and they had been torn in the same instant. That's when his eyebrows perked up.
He braced for pain as he pressed his thumb into the wound, causing blood to surge forward. However, the same thing happened in Victor's arm as he grunted with renewed pain.
"What, exactly, did you do?!" Olivier rocked forward.
Their bodies couldn't have been older than six, but their expressions were anything but childish. The two glared at each other as they both put pressure on their arms, hoping to quell the bleeding.
"The golden age of alchemy was over!"
Olivier began to understand with that simple reiteration. For both of them, there were many nights spent lamenting all the alchemy that would be lost to time as the resources for conducting alchemy became prohibitively expensive or outright extinct.
"I wanted to go back. I wanted to learn it all! I wanted to see if I could stop it from ending!"
Olivier shook his head slowly as he took a step backward. He glanced at the old buildings from his childhood, exactly as they had been so many years ago.
"It's the isle, Olivier. That's the answer to it all." Victor sounded a bit manic as he surged towards his brother. Of course, Olivier knew exactly what his brother was talking about; all alchemists did.
However, he turned away and began walking through the tall, flowery grass towards Aarbon. He still remembered the tree he had been sleeping under and the path back home. Back to the politics of the Familia, the life of his real family, the systematic – almost scientific – abuse of their father…
…As well as the tender love of their mother.
Victor watched his brother's back grow smaller. He clenched his wound with a grimace as he began to rework every single one of his plans. Nothing would go untouched with his brother, his true brother, now being there.
But he had already come to terms with being in the past; he already had the advantage, all he had to do was watch over things and gently steer the politics in his favor. The rest would be inevitable.
"The grass always becomes lush and green come spring." He muttered to himself as he finally pressed on behind Olivier's path.