In one of the highest towers of the Palace of Lolûne, Margo looked by the grand window of her room, pensive. The fire crackled, and she forced herself to detach her gaze from the grim scene she had her eyes on. Her room was too large for herself, and easy it was to feel lonely between those walls.

"Dear sister" a gentle, calm voice spoke.

Margo turned around to face her older sister. Sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands crossed on her lap, she looked at her with concerning eyes. Her worry was not genuine, however. Margo knew her family all too well, and how not to fall for deceiving words. Masters of speech, the Miramond House ascended to power not by prowess of war or great financial power. No, they ascended whispering to various Lord's ears, calculated actions that resulted in them seizing the crown. Margo was the second generation of this family, the youngest, and maybe the most reviled of this House's legacy. She bore no love for her blood, and only ever wished to escape the claws of this manipulative household.

"Is there something bothering you?" her sister continued. "Thou doth protest too much. It was a necessary action to take."

"Slaughtering innocents? Is this your take on justice? I am no fool" retorted Margo, frowning. "Vagrants and beggars, no matter how impoverished they are, deserve no such treatment dear sister" she hissed.

Her sister glared, hazel eyes filled with anger. She stood up swiftly, and rearranged her crimson gown with golden embroidery, depicting a peacock spreading its feathers.

"Thou art a damfool to not see the obvious, Margo," her tender voice becoming harsh. "We have no use in mongrels drinking our water and pestering our streets."

Margo marched to her, furious. She stopped a few inches away from her face, her upper lip curled in disdain.

"Thou art never stepped foot on these streets," she said coldly. "And I do not recall the last time you have been outside at all, Eliza."

Eliza glared at her angrily, touching her ash-blond hair. She turned away from her younger sister and paced slowly around the finely furnished room.

"You know..." she began, "After mother gave birth to you, I often spent time around your cradle."

She stopped in front of a drawer, and picked up a beautiful blue silk ribbon. A birthday gift Margo received from her, a few years ago. Eliza started untying and fiddling with it, wrapping it around her hand.

"You looked very ugly." Eliza paused, and looked at her sister. "I've tried strangulating you. Twice."

Margo was taken aback. She knew about these incidents, her maids were kind enough to tell her as she was growing up, but Eliza never confessed.

"But god, you screamed and cried so loud! Squealing like a piglet, it was awful to listen at, really. I could never go all the way before maids came rushing in. A pity. "

She slowly made her way to the fireplace, and gazed once more at Margo, who had an uneasy look on her face.

"We look so much alike, what a shame cleverness is not part of the package," she continued, disdainfully.

Eliza threw the ribbon in the fire, and watched it quickly burn.

"Remember thine place, Margo. Maybe I won't stop squeezing your little neck next time."

Without another word, Eliza turned away walking towards the door. Far away, a blast echoed. Margo turned at the window once more, watching black smoke rising in the night sky.

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Andrei was trying to find his way through the heavy smoke and flames invading the streets. His eyes watering from the fumes of the burning houses, he had managed to evade the Imperial Guards pursuing innocents. He had to go near the river that passed through Lolûne to have a chance of surviving.

The river exited down this part of the capital city, and a large underground sewer system was taken over by the residents over the years. From there you could leave the city, but very few had taken that path. The lands outside were far more ferocious that anything in the capital, until now.

Andrei coughed, arriving into a street where he was met with three Imperial Guards. Although none of them noticed his presence, as they were swinging their hammer one by one to a small gathered family. He gasped in horror. They screamed, pleaded, offered their mouldy bread; but each word rewarded them with another swing. Each blow breaking bones, but not quite killing them: they wanted to see their anguish.

Disfigured corpses laid in the streets, eviscerated, guts and organs littered the floor. Neither children nor women were spared. People were throwing themselves out of their window, prefering to choose their own death. Screams and cries resonated throughout every corner, and the unremitting hammering noise was a constant reminder of lives stolen.

He could not bear to see more, and heavy hearted he sprinted out of the blocks of houses, making his way to the river. Andrei was starting to get a stitch, not used to running this much without a stop. It was a miracle already that he was able to journey this far, but now his legs started trembling, and the reality of the dire situation was settling in.

"There!"

A guard shouted behind him. Andrei jolted back, looking at Guards marching his way. I can't stop now, he thought. He looked forward again and caught a glimpse of the river. Without a second thought, he dashed straight ahead, ignoring the loud stomping behind him. He could hear his heart violently beating, and approaching the river bank took a deep breath, and dove in the water.

The Imperial Guards behind him stopped at the edge of the river, trying to see him surface, but he did not.

"What an imbecile," one of the guards muttered. "No point waiting for a man that cannot swim. Let's leave."

Andrei surfaced slowly out the water, after waiting for their shadows to disappear from the surface. A corpse was floating down stream to him, and grabbed its sides to hide under. The young man drifted away; concealing himself when a guard was scanning the river for any signs of life. A few dozens of minutes passed, before Andrei felt the current going faster. He looked westward to see he was nearing the exit, and braced himself.

The current was only going to go faster from now on, knowing this river was flowing down a great lake, he started taking long inspirations. He'd only seen the map of the capital city once, when he was still an apprentice for Master Ikron, so he vaguely knew where he was going. Yet he remained uncertain about many things, one which was if there were any waterfalls, and if so, how great was the fall.

Andrei started gaining speed, and decided to let go of the corpse he was holding. In front of him stood a huge, round passage plunged in darkness. The only thing he could discern was the water disappearing in this mouth-like entrance. Each side of the structure had carved alchemical symbols: silver, iron, copper, lead. But one was bigger than others, mightier than all. A sun-like shaped mark, with a single dot in its centre.

Gold.

Passing through the entrance, silence quickly fell. Away from the screams, the cries, the houses crumbling. Andrei was alone now. He turned around to gaze one last time at the city, but he could only see Lina, her brown eyes and faint smile. He failed to find Julian, but only hoped he escaped in time. A gust of wind forced him to look forward, facing the darkness. The burbling sound of water falling was getting nearer, louder, yet he could see nothing in front of him. Andrei took deep inspiration once more, trying to anticipate the fall.

The water started to take a dip down, and now a torrent of water was rushing toward the void. As staying afloat required a lot more effort, Andrei decided to dive in, guessing the fall was near: and he was right. Suddenly, the water plummeted downwards and his stomach dropped; he was falling.

He quickly grabbed his knees, all curled up. The young man was terrified, angry, and mourning. His head was filled with memories, vividly recalling his life before the war took over. Before the Great One appeared, before greed took over humanity; before madness felt like a cure. He used to be someone, had dreams and hope.

No more, he thought to himself. If the Great One never appeared, maybe he could have lived normally. He could still study at Master Ikron's domus. He could've become an alchemist. If the Great One never promised the Philosopher's stone to the world then maybe...

An idea struck him. If he had his hands on a relic, he could change the course of his life. Only Lords could strive to own one. He had resigned himself to live quietly and not get targeted, stopping his craft. But if he became one of them, acted like them, he could reach great power.

As his thoughts were rushing into his mind, his fall met an end in deep, pitch-black waters.