I write these on my way back to London. I have failed in my quest to find a master alchemist. I had been so close, too. The village I had been trying to find was right there beyond the threes. The people found me in my camp and they were surprised I was there. I was saved! Not only was there civilization here but the house of the famous North Alchemist was not far from the village.

My grasp of the language was not very good but somehow I managed to get across to the people that I what I was looking for. After sleeping in a bed for the first time in what felt like ages I went to the man’s house. This is where my luck ran out. He was not home and would not be back for another two months. I didn’t have the money to wait that long. Honestly I don’t know what I’m going to do once I get back.

Somehow I still had hope that after making it all this way I would succeed but I failed. I had made a promise to become an alchemist. A promise I failed to keep. I did my best, even traveled to the edge of the world for it. Sometimes I wonder if my father had cursed me out of spite.

I guess I had avoided talking, thinking or even writing about it. But her face has haunted my in the darkest nights here. Eliza. She had been my one true love. I said before that my father was a doctor. He was and is one of the best. Eliza was a patient of his, it was how we met. I t had been decided long ago that I would become a doctor like my father and grandfather. I wanted to at first. Before I even started my studies I was helping my father at the clinic, reading medical books and even tending to some of his patients as a nurse once I was older.

She was lovely, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her smile made the room light up and the way she laughed was like music. I think I fell for her the first time I saw her just didn’t realize it for a while. I wanted to make her well again; I swore to myself that I would.

We would talk about things when I brought her food or medication. She wanted to become an alchemist, specifically one that worked with medicine. This was the one area I had no knowledge of. My father refused to use medicine made with alchemy. I said before that he hated it but that might be an understatement. He didn’t hire people who had any kind of alchemical background or even a positive view of it. I never really understood why. To be honest I never really wondered until I met Eliza.

Her family was not very wealthy. They had tried several other doctors before. My father took her in because her condition was rare and difficult – an interesting medical case. He did not ask for payment but he made it clear that would not use any alchemical medicines or treatments. Her parents agreed.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I began to look into alchemical medicines. Why was father so against them? I read research papers comparing effectiveness and there was either no difference or the alchemical medication performed slightly better than the regular kind. It was not harmful to people so why did my father not use it? Why did he hate alchemy so much?

I was in my first year of university at the time. I began to argue with my father over the treatment of Eliza. I decided that if my father was not going to do what was best for her than I would. I had come to know her well during her time in the hospital. She was so kind and caring; she loved children and often played with the younger patients there or read them stories. However her health was slowly worsening.

One night I had come to check on her and found her crying. I had never seen her so sad before. She knew she was probably not going to live long, never going to have a family of her own, never fulfill her dream of becoming an alchemist. I could not bear to see her so unhappy. I confessed to her then that I had been in love with her and would do everything in power to make her dreams come true.

Me and father continued to argue. I tried to take Eliza away from him and find her another doctor. I bought several alchemical medications and gave them to her in secret. I did my own research on her illness. Father found out and it didn’t go so well. It had been the first time I had seen him this angry. He had never physically struck me before. I was removed not on from taking care of Eliza but no longer allowed in to the clinic. I still came to visit her on those occasions my father was not around.

I proposed to her. It was clear that her sickness was progressing. Her parents didn’t mind. She had been transferred from the hospital to her parents’ house to spend what time she had left with her family. Ever since the incident I had not spoken to my father. It was only me, Eliza and her parents when we got married. She was too weak to get out of bed so we got married in the bedroom of her parents’ house. I had acquired an old abandoned property I wanted to fix up for us to live in but two weeks after we got married Eliza died.

I swore then that I would not be like my father. I believed that he was purposefully denying his patients medication that could be more effective simply because he hated alchemy. I vowed on her grave that I would learn alchemy and become a better doctor than my father. I failed to help Eliza but maybe I could learn alchemy and use it to help those like her, carry on her dream. It seems I have failed in that too.

I don’t know what I’m going to find upon my return to London. I will not give my belief that Eliza could have lived longer or perhaps even cured if had not been so stubborn in his ways. I did what I thought was best for her.