> “Alchemy is different... It doesn’t just amplify or add—it transforms... It takes what already exists and changes its very essence. A stone can become iron. A tree can become medicine. Even people… can become a better version of themselves.”

The Welton’s family dining room brimmed with a nostalgic energy. Its rustic charm is accentuated by the dim, flickering light of the cast-iron chandelier. The room was alive with the soft murmur of conversation. Clinking of utensils against earthenware plates fills the room as the conversation goes. Fire crackled in the hearth, casting playful shadows that seemed to dance to the rhythm of voices blending together in warm familiarity.

Eddie sat at his usual spot, his gaze drifting to the framed portrait above the hutch. He sees a younger version of himself smiling beside his parents. His thoughts were a jumble, caught somewhere between the present and the past. It felt surreal to have his aunt Catherine here after so long, joining them at the family table.

Across from Eddie sat Catherine. Her short, uneven red hair shimmered in the firelight, and her emerald green eyes—eerily similar to Eddie’s—sparkled with the humour that always seemed ready to burst into mischief.

“It’s been, what, fifteen years since I last came through Weshaven?” Catherine mused, leaning back in her chair and shooting Alyssa a playful glance. “Barely feels like a moment.”

Alyssa raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Fifteen years is hardly a moment, Cathy. Only an Elf like you would think that’s a short time.”

“Oh, come now, Ally.” Catherine replied with a mock huff. “You make it sound like I abandoned you!”

“You did!” Alyssa protested, folding her arms. “You vanished to chase adventure while I was stuck here, growing wrinkles and silver hair.” She gestured dramatically at herself before leaning forward with a grin. “Meanwhile, you look exactly the same as you did when I was twelve.”

“Perks of being the responsible older sister,” Catherine shot back with a wide smile.

“Responsible?” Alyssa laughed, the sound rich and familiar. “You call skipping town for years on end ‘responsible’? If memory serves, you’ve been running from responsibility for as long as I can remember.”

Catherine flashed a fond smile. “I wasn’t running. I was traveling. Learning. And teaching, thank you very much.”

“Oh, teaching?” Alyssa leaned in, clearly enjoying herself. “You mean picking up random kids off the streets and dragging them along on your whirlwind adventures?”

Robert, who had been listening with an amused expression, decided to interject. “Sounds familiar. Pretty sure I was one of those random kids once.”

“Exactly, Robert!” Catherine said breezily, though her smile widened. “They’re lucky to have me. My last student, for instance—a kid from the school somewhere in King’s Grave—turned out to be the princess of a royal family living there. She insisted on following me everywhere. ‘Teach me this, Master Catherine,’ ‘Show me that.’” Catherine mimicked the princess’s voice with exaggerated drama, throwing her arms in the air. “Honestly, she was so pushy.”

“And yet, you let her,” Alyssa said knowingly.

“Of course, I did,” Catherine admitted with a shrug. “She had potential. Couldn’t exactly say no, could I?”

Robert, who had been quietly enjoying their banter, chimed in. “So, what brings you to Weshaven this time, Catherine? We both know you don’t just pop in for family reunions.”

Catherine hesitated for a moment before smirking. “You know me too well. My last lead brought me here. I’m looking for… something.”

Robert immediately caught the evasive tone and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Something? That’s suspiciously vague, even for you.”

Catherine waved a hand, brushing off the comment. “Just something important. And, before you ask, yes, I made up some excuse to leave the princess behind. She’ll survive without me for a while.”

Alyssa shook her head, chuckling. “Still dodging your responsibilities, I see. Some things never change.”

“I call it delegating, Alyssa.” Catherine corrected, her grin brightening. “But I’ll have you know, I’m quite responsible when it counts.”

Alyssa snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Sure you are, Cathy. Sure you are.”

The warmth of their sisterly bond filled the room, their teasing banter weaving a tapestry of history and affection. Eddie watched the exchange with a small smile, realising just how much Catherine’s presence brought out a side of his mother he rarely saw—playful, nostalgic, and full of life.

“Aunt Catherine, Aunt Catherine!” Torrie piped, “What exactly did you teach the princess?” She said, breaking into the conversation. Leaning forward, her wide eyes brimming with curiosity.

“I was teacher her Alchemy,” Catherine said, her tone shifting into that of a natural tutor. “She had potential, even if she didn’t always have the patience.”

“Oooh, What’s Alchemy?” Torrie asked, her head tilting. “And what makes it different from other kinds of magic?”

The opportunity to teach shone in Catherine’s sparkling light blue eyes as she leaned back. “Ah, an excellent question! Let me explain. Let’s take Bardry for example, Bardry is about amplifying what already exists—like making a whisper echo like thunder, or turning a small flame into a roaring fire. Enchantments, on the other hand, infuse an object with something new—like making a sword unbreakable or a cloak resistant to flames.”

“Alchemy is different.” She leaned forward, eyes locking onto Torrie as she continued. “It doesn’t just amplify or add—it transforms. It takes what already exists and changes its very essence. A stone can become iron. A tree can become medicine. Even people… can become a better version of themselves.”

Catherine paused, letting the thought linger, then smiled. “Alchemy sees potential in everything and everyone. It believes that anything can become something else, something better, with the right understanding and effort.”

Catherine’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Talking about Alchemy, Torrie,” she said brightly, her light blue eyes landing warmly on Eddie. “Your big brother Edward was an exceptional Alchemist back at Aella, if I’m not mistaken.”

The room stilled. Torrie’s curiosity faded into quiet confusion, and Alyssa exchanged a quick glance with Robert, her expression unreadable. Even the crackle of the fireplace seemed to recede into the background.

Oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, Catherine continued, her tone full of admiration. “Your mother wrote me the sweetest letter years ago, detailing all your accomplishments. Winning the regional alchemy competitions, consistently ranking at the top of his class…” Catherine’s voice was filled with pride, her admiration genuine. “She even said the headmaster personally complimented his work! Quite the prodigy, weren’t you, Eddie?!”

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Eddie’s gaze remained fixed on his plate, the stew untouched. The praise, though meant kindly, cut deeper than Catherine could have known.

The dining room fell silent. Torrie’s wide eyes darted between Eddie and Catherine, and Alyssa’s smile faltered, her hands tightening slightly around her fork. Robert cleared his throat, but even he seemed unsure of what to say.

Alyssa cleared her throat gently, reaching out to refill Catherine’s glass of water as if to shift the conversation. “Catherine, why don’t you tell us more about King’s Grave? The princess sounds like quite a handful,” she said, her tone light but pointed.

Catherine blinked, glancing between Eddie and her sister-in-law. Slowly, understanding dawned on her face. “Oh… of course,” she said quickly, adjusting her posture. “Well, the princess has been my most persistent student yet. She has this way of…”

The conversation shifted after that. It turns into lighter topics. Catherine’s latest travel destinations, stories of Torrie’s misadventures at school, and Mr Welton’s stubborn insistence on using outdated brewing methods. With each burst of laughter, the tension lessened.

With his appetite vanished, Eddie remained fixated on his plate. The warmth of the firelight on his face felt suffocating now. He clenched his fists under the table, willing himself not to react, but his pulse thundered in his ears.

Tonight, it felt like two Eddies were sitting at the table. One was the Eddie from the past, the eager apprentice who aspired to be worthy of his family’s legacy, of the alchemical tradition. The other was the present Eddie, who sat in silence. The one drifting through life without purpose. Chained to a destiny he could no longer bring himself to accept. Then came Catherine. Smiling at him with the same admiration and encouragement she’d always had. Unaware that the nephew she thought she knew was long gone.

“Eddie?” Catherine’s voice brought him back to the present, her eyes searching his face with gentle concern. “How have you been? It’s been so long… Oh, I was meaning to ask—do you still have that recommendation letter from the Sage’s Institute Scholarships? The one you got after winning that national alchemical competition in your second year at Aella? Are you thinking of taking the tests now that you’re in your twenties?”

The question struck Eddie like a blow, his pulse quickening. He forced his grip to stay loose around the spoon in his hand. Catherine didn’t know. She couldn’t know. To her, he was still the prodigy, the star student destined for greatness.

“Uh… yeah,” Eddie said after a beat too long, his voice steady but hollow. “I’m… considering it.”

Catherine’s face lit up with excitement, her smile wide and brimming with pride. “Oh, Eddie, that’s wonderful! Do you know which university you’re planning to apply to? Concordia? Pinesworth? Alikria?” Eagerly, she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Or maybe Edenfield? I remember you talking about it so much when you were younger.”

Edenfield.

The name landed like a stone in Eddie’s stomach. His chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might not be able to respond. Edenfield was everything he had ever wanted—everything he had worked for. The hours of study, the competitions, the sleepless nights poring over alchemical formulas—it had all been for Edenfield. And then it had been ripped away.

But Catherine was watching him, her smile so full of hope and pride it made his skin crawl. He couldn’t bear to shatter that image. So he lied again.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Catherine beamed, her joy filling the room. “I knew it! You were born for a place like Edenfield. The professors will be lining up to have you in their classes. Oh, Eddie, you’re going to do amazing things. I just know it.”

Her words, so full of praise and confidence, cut deeper than any insult could have. Eddie’s heart felt heavy, weighed down by the growing tangle of lies.

He wanted to tell Catherine to stop, to let it go, but he couldn’t. Instead, he forced another smile, nodding along as she continued to gush about his potential. The room felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken truths.

“Thanks, Catherine,” he murmured, unable to muster anything more.

If only she knew the truth. Aella Academy was gone; there were no more late-night transmutation projects or intricate alchemical theories to explore. Just him, trapped in a tiny Weshaven apothecary, crafting potions for some local fishermen. He wasn’t the promising young Alchemist anymore, the one who had wowed his classmates and professors with his brilliant mind.

No, if they could see him now, they wouldn’t be filled with awe. They would see only shame, disappointment. He wasn’t an Alchemist anymore, not in the way he once dreamed. He was just a potion maker—a far cry from the future he had imagined in the grand halls of Aella.

It was peculiar; Sitting here with his family, he felt both more connected and more isolated than ever before. Like a ghost trapped in the shell of his former life.

Eddie felt Torrie’s gaze burn into the side of his face like a spear through a knight’s armour. He didn’t need to look up to know what she was thinking. He could sense it — the quiet understanding, the pity, and that other emotion he couldn’t quite stomach: disappointment.

The worst part was that it wasn’t the cold, judgmental kind of disappointment you’d get from a stranger. It was softer, but more cutting, the kind you’d get from someone who believed in you once and had watched you fall.

Eddie stared down at his plate. He pushes the last remnants of his meal as Catherine’s voice fills the room. She was telling a story. Something lighthearted, about one of the latest distant towns she visits, oblivious to the truth. Still caught up in the illusion of who she thought he was. He had let her believe it — that he was still the same promising student she once knew. He was just taking some time off to work with his father before diving back into his magical studies.

But Torrie knew better.

He noticed her watching him from the corner of his eye; her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was set in a tight line. She knew the truth. How Eddie had come back home, broken and ashamed, how he’d withdrawn into himself, abandoning the magic that once defined him. She had seen it all happen, step by step, as he slipped further and further into this empty shell he’d become.

Now she was watching him lie to Catherine — the very person he used to idolise.

What must Torrie think of him now?

He stole a glance at Torrie, and for a moment, their eyes met. Hers were full of unspoken words. It brims with that same question she’d silently asked him a hundred times: Why don’t you just tell her the truth?

Eddie’s gaze dropped to his lap. Because I can’t, he wanted to say. Because I’m not ready. Because I’m a coward. He couldn’t bear to lose the last shred of admiration Catherine still held for him. He couldn’t face the look on her face if she knew the whole truth. That he hadn’t just lost his place at Aella Academy, he’d lost himself.

“—and I was thinking, Eddie,” Catherine said, breaking into his thoughts, “Maybe we could spend some time together this week. You could show me what you’ve been working on — some of your own projects, if you have time. You always had such a knack for transmutational work.”

The praise felt like a punch to the gut. He managed a strained smile, his throat tightening. “I… haven’t really been working on much lately,” he mumbled. “Just helping out at the apothecary. I’ve been… busy with that.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly fine!” Catherine’s smile widened, still radiating that same encouraging warmth that used to light up his world when he was younger. “You’ve got plenty of time. You’re still young. The important thing is that you’re putting in the effort — that you’re still trying.”

A sudden dryness overcame Eddie’s mouth; he swallowed. He felt a wave of shame wash over him. Still trying? He wasn’t trying at all. He was stuck, drifting, hiding away from the very thing he once loved. How could she not see it? Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it. Maybe she was holding on to who he used to be, just like he was.

He had to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, Catherine, Mom, Dad, Torrie,” he said abruptly, pushing back his chair and standing up. His legs felt unsteady, and he gripped the back of his chair to keep from swaying. “I think I’ll turn in for the night. I’ve… I’ve been up since dawn, helping Dad. It’s been a long day.”

There was a flicker of surprise on Catherine’s face, but she quickly recovered, nodding understandingly. “Of course, Eddie. You’ve been working so hard.” Her eyes softened, her smile filled with pride. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve always been so diligent and so responsible. You’re doing great.”

The words hit him like a dagger to the chest, sharp and cruel. He wanted to tell her to stop. Stop being proud of me. Stop thinking I’m someone I’m not. But the words stayed lodged in his throat, suffocated by the guilt that threatened to choke him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, barely able to get the word out. He turned away quickly, his shoulders hunched as if trying to shield himself from the weight of her praise.

As he left the dining room, he felt Torrie’s eyes on his back, heavy and piercing. He knew she was disappointed — disappointed in his cowardice, in his inability to tell the truth, in the way he was letting Catherine believe in a lie. And that disappointment hurt more than anything Catherine could have said.

He reached the stairs and paused for a moment, his hand gripping the bannister tightly. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The guilt, the shame, the pain — it all swirled inside him, a dark, suffocating storm.

He was a liar. A coward. He was letting down everyone whoever believed in him.

And yet… he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t tell the truth.

Not yet.