> “You were never a prince. You were never born in this kingdom. But you are strong, and you have a good heart. Should fate be kind, there may come a moment when you find your way back once more. Until then, embrace your life unshackled by these burdens..”
Silence fills in the hallway.
Silence holds its breath, Stillness wraps the palace in peace, The night’s quiet pause.
Footsteps echo clear, Sharp against cold stone walls, Rhythm in the night.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A figure emerges from the hallway of the kingdom's palace, her crimson cloak swirled with each step, its vivid colour a striking challenge to the sombre, grey expanse of the grand hallway. Her short crimson hair, a wild tempest, swirled about her elegant features—those that bore the faintest trace of dissatisfaction. Her arms, burdened by the weight of ancient tomes, codices, and scrolls, moved with a delicate grace as she forged ahead. A polished brass mahogany staff, ornate and gleaming, rested beneath her arm, precariously balanced on the brink of free fall as she shifted the weight of her tomes.
It was The Alchemist
“Of all the absurd ideas,” she grumbled, her voice resonating softly in the dim light. “Twin princes… wielders of the Alchemical art!" She said sarcastically, "As though they possessed the power to command anything other than the art of tormenting my very own existence!”
She huffed, adjusting the stack of books as they threatened to topple. The staff bumped against her side, and she let out a frustrated sigh.
“If they spent half as much effort on their lessons as they do on their escapes, they’d be prodigies by now,” she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “But nooo, of course not. Why learn the art of transmutation when they can climb trees or… whatever it is they do when they vanish.”
The Alchemist’s steps quickened as her irritation mounted.
“But of course, the wise king insists,” she continued, mimicking a regal tone, ‘‘They must master Alchemy if they are to stand against Them.” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind that they barely know a crucible from a cauldron.”
The hallway stretched on, the oppressive silence broken only by her footsteps and her muttering.
Her grip tightened as the pile swayed again. “And now I have to drag these lessons to their chambers? Hmph. No excuses this time!” she declared with a hint of triumph in her tone. “If they won’t come to their lessons, I’ll bring the lessons to them!”
She stopped to adjust the staff under her arm, sighing as she resumed her walk. “Honestly, this isn’t even about Alchemy anymore. It’s about him.” Her voice softened, though the irritation lingered. “The king thinks the world will bend to his will if he just molds them into what he wants. But they…” Her lips curved into a faint, rueful smile. “They’re not his tools. And they’ll never learn Alchemy with their hearts elsewhere.”
The Alchemist’s steps grew slower as she neared a junction in the corridor, her thoughts drifting. For a moment, the youthful playfulness in her demeanor returned, a flicker of rebellion sparking in her emerald eyes. “Maybe I should turn them into frogs for a day,” she mused aloud, her smile widening. “See how far they run then.”
The sound of footsteps stopped.
Silence.
She glanced over her shoulder, frowning. The air felt heavier now, the stillness unnerving. The flicker of the torches seemed dimmer, the shadows longer. Her grip on her staff tightened instinctively as she scanned the hallway behind her.
Nothing.
The hallway that stretched towards the Twin Princes' chamber lay before her, shrouded in shadows and thick with an eerie silence. The Alchemist’s boots echoed with a sharp cadence upon the cold stone floor as she drew near, her crimson cloak trailing behind her like blood in the shadows. In the dimly lit hallway, two royal guards stood sentinel, their halberds crossed in a formidable barrier, denying passage to any who dared approach. Their fully enclosed helmets bestowed upon them an imposing, faceless presence, a silent testament to their formidable nature.
The Alchemist's ire ignited once more. She shifted the staff beneath her arm, her stack of tomes teetering dangerously as she cast a fierce glare upon them.
“Step aside. I need to see the princes,” she demanded, her tone sharp.
The guards stood unmoved, their silent defiance irritating her further. “Did you not hear me?” she snapped. “The king ordered me to tutor the princes tonight. Let me through!”
The guards remained unmoved. One of them spoke, his voice muffled by the helmet. “You cannot pass.”
The Alchemist’s eyes narrowed. “And why not? By whose order?”
The other guard answered flatly,
“By the order of the king.”
Her irritation morphed into a chill that seeped into her very bones—a foreboding dread that lingered in her very skin. The tomes she bore weighed upon her like the burdens of fate themselves, her thoughts surged forth in a tempest of urgency. Such a notion seemed most improbable. The King had given her a clear command to instruct the young princes on this very evening. He yearned for them to delve into their Alchemical studies, to prepare themselves for the trials that lay ahead. The breath of the Alchemist caught in her throat, and her eyes darted between the two guards.
“No…” she murmured, taking a step back. “You’re no royal guards.”
A whisper of movement behind her. The Alchemist’s instincts screamed danger. With a sharp clatter, she let her books fall, pivoting on her heel as two hooded figures materialised from the darkness, their daggers glinting ominously in the dim light. They surged forth, their intentions dark, seeking to seize her from behind.
But she was faster.
The Alchemist seized her staff from beneath her arm, the brass tip shimmering with a subtle glow as she summoned her alchemical power. With a swift gesture, she pointed at one of the guards. The metal of his chestplate shimmered, then visibly weakened. She sidestepped the assassin’s attack, using her staff to redirect his momentum. The dagger plunged into the weakened chestplate, the force knocking the assassin out cold.
The second impostor guard lunged forward with fierce intent. The Alchemist’s staff spun in her grasp, a seamless extension of her very being. With a swift motion, she lunged upward, her strike striking against the false guard's armour. With a surge of transmutational energy, the metal coiled tightly, hoisting the imposter from the ground as if he were but a feather in the wind. His breaths emerged in ragged gasps, each one a struggle as the armour constricted mercilessly around his chest.
“Who are you?” the Alchemist demanded, her voice cold and commanding. “What do you want?”
The imposter remained mute, his silence a stubborn defiance even in the face of his torment. The Alchemist's fingers clenched around her staff, the armour yielding further under the strain, each tortured groan of metal echoing the agony that escaped his lips.
“Speak!” she commanded, her fury and trepidation surging forth like a tempest.
At long last, with his final, laboured gasp, the imposter roared, “By the order of the Black Hand!”
"This realm shall crumble beneath the weight of its own treachery this very night!”
His body fell slack, the armour relinquishing its cruel grip. The Alchemist remained motionless, her staff quivering ever so slightly in her grasp as the resonance of his words lingered in the stillness around her.
The shadowy grip of the Black Hand looms, a silent force weaving through the tapestry of power and intrigue. The words sent a shiver down her spine, far colder than the darkest night could ever hope to be.
Before she could catch her breath, movement drew her gaze down the hallway. Three more guards stood there, their halberds lowered in readiness. Their posture was rigid, their silence damning. They had been heading toward the Twin Princes’ chamber but now stood frozen, caught off-guard by their cover being blown.
The Alchemist’s blood ran cold. They weren’t guards either.
In unison, the impostors readied their halberds, their visors angling towards her with a menacing intent. The Alchemist lifted her staff, its brass head shimmering with a burgeoning energy, a harbinger of the alchemical forces at her command. She planted her feet firmly, her crimson cloak swirling around her as the air thickened with palpable tension.
The princes found themselves ensnared on the brink of peril.
No—the entire realm teetered on the brink of peril.
-o-
Upon awakening, the Older Twin was met with an enveloping darkness and an unsettling stillness. His dreams—vague and glimmering—fractured into a thousand pieces. Departing with nothing but a faint, lingering echo of what once was.
A jarring, resonant clash of steel rang out from the shadows beyond the chamber. A strangled cry echoed through the air, abruptly silenced by a chilling, wet, gurgling sound.
The stillness that ensued hung in the air, thick and oppressive. He sprang to attention, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered hoarsely, shaking his younger brother awake.
“What...?” The Younger Twin stirred awake, his voice thick with sleep.
The sounds intensified, reverberating through the air with an urgency that could not be ignored. Boots echoed against the marble floors, the sharp sound of glass shattering resonating through the air.
Stillness, choking and oppresive enveloped the surroundings.
The door to their chamber swung wide
It crashes against the wall with a force that echoed through the bedroom chamber of the young princes. A silhouette loomed. The figure stood stark against the dim glow of torchlight spilling from the corridor. The Older Twin recoiled, his form tense with fear, yet the figure emerged into the lights of the gaslamps inside.
It was the Alchemist
Steely resolve etched her angular face; her hair lay in wild disarray. Her staff gripped firmly in her hands, as if she wielded a spear. With a forceful motion, she slammed the door shut, her hand twisting the key in the lock before she secured the bolt with a decisive snap.
“Wake up, boys. Quickly now.” She moved to the Younger Twin’s bedside, shaking his shoulder gently amidst her own panic. “You must come with me. Don’t worry about changing—just your slippers, yes? That’s it.”
“Wha- What’s happening?“ the Older Twin asked, his voice trembling.
The Alchemist crouched before him. Her sharp emerald green eyes were steady and reassuring. “There are some bad people in the palace tonight,“ she whispered. “But I won’t let them hurt you. You must stay close to me, and we’ll be fine. Do you understand?”
The twins sat in their beds, clearly frozen trying to process what had happened
The Alchemist took her breath again, "Do you understand?" she repeated, softer this time.
The Older Twin nodded, his chest tight with fear. Now more alert, the Younger Twin came to stand beside his brother, clutching his arm.
“Good,“ the Alchemist said, forcing a smile, her voice calm but firm. She turned toward the door as it shuddered under a heavy blow.
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A heavy thud reverberated through the door behind them.
The sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the air. The Alchemist whirled, her staff lifted high, ready to channel her power. A radiant barrier of light sprang to life, shimmering with an ethereal glow as it stretched across the door.
The door shattered with a resounding crack, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Three hooded figures surged into the room, their daggers and short swords catching the faint light and reflecting it like shards of ice. The Alchemist advanced, her staff lifted high, a beacon of power and intent.
“Stay behind me,” she commanded, her voice resolute.
The hooded figures closed in, yet the Alchemist moved with swiftness unmatched by the assailants. As she raises her staff, warm light emanated from her staff, illuminating the shadows around her. The metal frames of the princes' beds shimmered and twisted, transforming into fluid. The twins inhaled sharply, their eyes wide as the liquid metal ascended, twisting and turning like a dance of molten silver in the air.
“Close your eyes,” she said, her voice gentle but urgent.
The Older Twin complied without hesitation. He pressed his eyes tightly closed, yet the Younger Twin dared to glance through his lashes. With a deft motion of the Alchemist’s wrist, the liquid metal crystallised into razor-sharp shards that shot forth, aimed directly at the intruders. The sound of impact resonated with a sickening finality, soon accompanied by the heavy thuds of bodies collapsing to the ground.
As the Older Twin finally summoned the courage to open his eyes, a wave of nausea washed over him at the sight before him. The cloaked figures remained still, a dark stain spreading beneath their forms. Blood pooling beneath them. The Younger Twin's grip on his arm grew firm, a subtle tremor coursing through it.
The Alchemist knelt before them, her voice a gentle whisper, filled with an ancient wisdom. “Look at me, not on them,” she urged, her eyes warm even as her voice carried an edge of urgency. “I know this is frightening, but we must keep moving. Can you do that for me?”
The boys exchanged glances, their bodies trembling with fear. Yet, she bestowed a subtle, uplifting smile. “Good. Hold onto each other and follow me. I’ll take care of the rest.”
-o-
The hallway stretched ahead, the sight was beyond nightmare. Royal Guards engaged fiercely with mercenaries and assassins clad in mismatched armour, the sound of swords clashing against shields echoing through the corridor. Clouds of smoke from a fire stings deeply in their nose, the sharp smell was mixed with the metallic scent of blood and the desperate wails of the wounded.
The Alchemist moved in swift arcs. As she moved, her staff flashed as she turned the simplest objects into weapons. A decorative vase became a cloud of shrapnel, cutting down an attacker who lunged at them. A decorative armour become twisting metal threads, forcing another enemy to retreat.
“Keep close,“ she reminded the princes as they followed her. Their tiny hands clutched at her robes.
Amidst the chaos of the palace, the twins found solace in the steady demeanour of the Alchemist. As yet another assassin emerged from the shadows, the Alchemist responded with a decisive strike, rendering him incapacitated in an instant. The Older Twin turned his gaze away, his hold on his brother’s hand growing firmer.
The Younger Twin, typically so composed, faltered as he tripped over a corpse of a Royal Guard, his pale face glistening with sweat. The Alchemist placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment. “You’re brave,“ she whispered. “Just a little further now.”
The palace stood in ruins, its former magnificence overshadowed by the scars of battle. The Alchemist’s determination served as their guiding light through the chaos. She leads them through the darkness, navigating the horrors that surround them in search of the safety that awaits beyond the shadows.
-o-
The Alchemist heaved the massive doors of the throne room, the creak of the ancient wood echoing through the vast chamber. With her staff raised high, the radiant tip cast a warm glow, piercing through the shadows that lights the surroundings. The chamber, once a symbol of might and power, now lay in a state of disarray. Tattered tapestries drooped in sorrow, shards of glass sparkled across the polished marble, and the throne itself was marred by the deep wounds of battle. The marble floor is stained with the blood of the royal guards, formidable warriors, their bodies lies in defeat.
In the heart of the chamber loomed a figure, encased in dark iron armour, his face hidden behind a mask shaped like a raven. He radiated threat, his enormous, spiked mace perched effortlessly on his shoulder, as though it were as light as a feather.
The Alchemist’s breath sharpen. She tightened her grip on her staff, drawing the Older and Younger Twins closer behind her. “Stay behind me,“ she whispered, her voice steady despite the fear.
The figure clad in the raven mask bowed his head, a flicker of joy shimmering within his gaze. “Ah, the King’s sorceress fancies herself capable of shielding them from my grasp,” he growled, his voice reverberating with a twisted, metallic timbre through the visage that concealed him. With a resolute stride, he pressed onwards, the mace trailing behind him, its weight scraping against the cold stone floor, issuing forth a discordant, rasping echo. “Yield them unto me, and I shall grant them a swift end.”
“I am no sorceress,” The Alchemist said, raising her staff, “I’m an Alchemist, and you have to kill me first,” she answered, her voice a whisper yet resolute as the mountains stand against the storm.
With a decisive motion, she propelled her staff ahead, the gleaming mahogany wood radiating with the essence of alchemical might. The marble beneath the enforcer’s feet twisted and melted, dragging him into its depths. He responded with a fierce retaliation, bringing his mace down upon the earth in a thunderous impact.
The surge of energy fractured the fluid stone. It unleashes a storm of shards, scattering them in every conceivable direction.
The twins huddled behind her, their wide eyes reflecting the chaos. The Older Twin’s heart raced as he clutched his brother’s hand.
The Alchemist advanced with meticulous grace. She transforms the remnants of broken marble into deadly spears and launches them with precision. Yet the man with the raven mask moved with a swiftness that belied his imposing size.
With each swing of his mace, he sent the projectiles spiralling away, his strikes efficient and brutal.
“You possess great courage, Alchemist…” he taunts, stepping closer, “Yet you are undeniably foolish.”
With a powerful motion, he swung the mace in a sweeping arc, narrowly missing the Alchemist, who deftly ducked to avoid the blow. The tremendous arc of the swing fractured a nearby column, unleashing a cascade of dust and debris that fell like a shroud over the throne chamber.
“Run!“ she shouted to the twins, her voice sharp with urgency.
The boys paused, uncertainty flickering in their eyes, but the Younger Twin grasped his brother’s arm, urging him forward towards the distant shadows of the room.
The Alchemist unleashed yet another wave of assault. This time, the debris transformed into a relentless storm of sharp blades, targeting the enforcer’s vulnerable joints with precision. One struck him in the shoulder, forcing him to stagger back, the impact reverberating through his body. She seized the moment, channelling every ounce of her strength to hold him back.
Yet she pressed on, unwavering in her pursuit recklessly. With a decisive strike, he striked The Alchemist square in the chest. The impact hurled her against a shattered pillar, the ancient stone groaning under the sudden violence. She inhaled sharply, a jolt of pain coursing through her lower back as she fought to push herself up.
The battle raged with intensity, a tempest of turmoil and resolve. The Alchemist unleashed her strikes with precision, each blow a calculated dance of power and intent. Crafting the golden chandelier above the enforcer into a cascade of sharp, golden rain. In that instant of overwhelming force, not a single shard of gold could breach the formidable dark iron armour of the.
She moved with a fluid grace, darting and weaving through the chaos around her. Employing the grandeur of the throne room as a weapon against The Masked Raven—crystal chandeliers splintered into deadly shards that fell like spears, gilded furniture contorted into formidable barriers. Yet, the enforcer's overwhelming might and relentless onslaught shattered her defences.
With each strike, she stumbled, her breaths becoming increasingly laboured. A strike from the enforcer’s mace sent her crashing into a column, her staff clattering against the cold stone floor beneath her.
Amidst the turmoil, she caught sight of the twins—yet only one stood before her.
“Where’s your brother?” she gasped, her eyes widening as they fixed on the Older Twin.
“I—I don’t know!“ he stammered, his voice trembling.
Desperate, she forced herself to her feet, limping toward the Older Twin. Her hands trembled as she lifted his wounded body, her heart pounding. The Younger Twin was gone, but she couldn’t stay. Not now.
-o-
Beyond the palace gates, the night unravelled into chaos. Flames roared wildly, their heat licking the air, while distant cries pierced the night, a haunting symphony of chaos. Amidst the chaos, her gaze fell upon a fisherman’s cart, heavy with barrels brimming with the day’s catch.
She faltered as she approached, the weight of the Older Twin held gently in her arms. Worry carved deep lines into his face as the fisherman raised his gaze from his crouched position beside the cart.
“Help me,“ she pleaded. “Please.”
He nodded, lifting the lid of an empty barrel. The Alchemist lowered the boy inside, arranging the surrounding fish to hide him from view. The Older Twin stirred, his eyelids fluttering.
The Alchemist brushed his hair back, her voice soft but firm. “Listen to me. You must stay here. These kind people will take you to safety.”
His eyes opened, glassy with confusion. “My brother...?”
She swallowed hard, her voice catching. “I’ll find your brother. I promise. But you must get away now. Do you understand?”
He nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks.
The Court Alchemist crouched beside the cart. Her hands trembling as she adjusted the barrel concealing the Older Twin. The boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open. His pale face, streaked with soot, filled with confusion and fear.
“Shh,“ she whispered, her voice soft but tinged with sorrow. “You’re safe. I promise.”
The fisherman stood nearby, shifting from foot to foot. “How far do you want me to take him?“ he asked, his voice low and uncertain.
“As far as you can go, far west if you must.“ the Alchemist replied, though her heart ached with every word. “To a place where no one will find him.”
The fisherman nodded, glancing at the chaos still unfolding in the palace. “What about you?“
“I’ll return for his brother,“ she said, her voice resolute. “But this one must leave now.”
Her mind flashed back to the throne room, the king’s bloodied face pale as his voice rasped its last command.
“If the princes survive, you must erase their memories. They were never princes, never born of this kingdom. Only if fate binds them to the prophecy shall they return. Until then, they must live free of this burden. Protect their lives, even if it means burying their past.”
The weight of those words bore down on her like an iron yoke. She looked at the boy in the cart, his innocent face still bearing traces of the life he would soon forget.
“I’m sorry,“ she whispered.
The Alchemist reached for the small vial tucked within her belt. A swirling liquid of deep blue and shimmering indigo. The Memory Draught . Her hands shook as she uncorked it, the faint scent of rain-soaked earth rising into the air.
The Older Twin stirred again, his half-lidded eyes meeting hers. “Where... where’s my brother?“ he murmured.
Tears welled in her eyes. “He’s safe. You both will be.”
He tried to sit up, but she pressed her hand against his chest. “Drink this,“ she said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed. “It will help you rest.”
The boy lingered, his eyes desperately seeking hers. In his eyes, there was a glimmer of trust, delicate and tender, that pierced her heart with a profound ache. He parted his lips, surrendering to her as she gently poured the liquid into his mouth.
The memories flooded back in bittersweet fragments: the joyous laughter shared with his brother in the royal gardens, the intense lessons under the watchful eyes of the court tutors, and the comforting warmth of his father’s hand resting gently on his shoulder. Every piece dissolved like delicate mist under the warm embrace of the morning sun, vanishing into the emptiness.
As the draught took effect, his eyes grew heavy, and his body relaxed. The Alchemist leaned close, her voice a whisper filled with sorrow and hope.
“You were never a prince. You were never born in this kingdom. But you are strong, and you are kind. Should fate be kind, there may come a moment when you find your way back once more. Until that moment arrives, embrace your life unshackled by these burdens..”
She turned to the fisherman, her voice firmer now. “Take him. Guard him with all the love and care you can muster, as if he were your own. No one must know who he is or where he came from.”
The fisherman nodded, solemnly.
As the cart began to creak and groan down the road, the Alchemist stood frozen, her heart heavy, watching it disappear into the enveloping fog of the night. Her chest tightened with a grief that weighed heavily on her heart.
With a deep breath, she turned back towards the palace, “I will find your brother,“ she murmured in her voice, a promise carried on by the night wind. Then, staff in hand, she disappeared into the shadows once more.
Turning, she faced the burning palace once more. Her heart ached, but her resolve was unshaken. Clutching the battered staff, she disappeared into the chaos, her silhouette swallowed by the smoke and flames.
The fisherman covered the barrel, his hands trembling, and with a sharp whistle, he urged the cart forward into the night.
Behind them, the palace burned, and the fate of the Younger Twin hung in the balance.
-o-
The Red-Haired Girl perched at her desk, as the soft morning light danced through the delicate lace curtains of her cosy chamber. The view from her window overlooked the palace perched upon the hill, its spires reaching skyward like slender, shimmering needles. It was a sight she had come to know well, yet its grandeur always managed to awaken something deep within her.
Her desk was a chaotic tapestry of scrolls, papers, and sketches, each telling a story of its own. She had sketched illustrations of fantastical beings—phoenixes adorned with elaborate feathered wings, dragons with luminous eyes, and gryphons boasting gracefully spiralled horns. Every figure bears its own annotations. Notes penned in her meticulous script, outlining their physiology and the herbs thought to possess healing properties. Alongside these sketches lay plans for poultices and elixirs, her thoughts spilling onto the page in a delightful whirlwind of organised chaos.
She leaned back in her chair, a delicate smile gracing her lips. Her thoughts wandered to the grand palace and, even more so, to the princes who had forged bonds of friendship with her during her stay there.
The girl’s red hair framed a face lost in the twins’ memories, her fingers tracing the edge of the sketch absentmindedly. The Older Twin’s bold smiles and unrestrained spirit had bestowed upon her a sense of bravery; the Younger Twin’s gentle insight had illuminated the grace found in introspection and the journey of self-discovery. United, they had transformed her perception of the world, urging her to look beyond the confines of what she believed to be her fate.
She wanted to express her gratitude to them properly.
Uncertain, her fingers lingered upon the meticulously folded paper that lay upon her desk. It was a letter she had wrote weeks prior, yet it remained unfinished, lingering in the shadows of her thoughts. The words seemed but a mere shadow, unable to capture the profound depths of her gratitude.
What could I even say? She thought. Thank you for showing me who I could be? For teaching me how to dream?
Her smile faltered as she peered through the window once more, her eyes drawn to the majestic palace beyond. A flicker of unease brushed against her heart, an inexplicable shadow lingering where it ought not to be. She brushed it aside.
The palace rose majestically, its golden rooftops shimmering in the soft embrace of dawn's first light. From where she sat, it all appeared perfectly ordinary. The world continued its endless march, just as it always had.
She resumed her task, grasping a pencil and hovering it over the paper. Yet the words eluded her grasp. Her gratitude for the princes swelled within her, an emotion so immense it could not be contained on a mere sheet of parchment.
Perhaps one day, she mused, as she gently folded the unfinished letter and returned it to its resting place. When I see them once more, I’ll tell them everything .
Her smile blossomed anew as she envisioned the joyous reunion, blissfully ignorant of the dark events that had transpired the night before. The palace she gazed upon with such fondness had faded from the vibrant beacon of life and laughter she once cherished.
The palace she viewed with such admiration was no longer the beacon of life and laughter she remembered.
The royal family was gone. The twins—her friends—were gone.
And all she had were memories of a brief, wondrous year that would never return.