While a skilled alchemist may work small miracles with the proper combination of compounds and techniques, there is a stronger side still. Invested alchemy.

Athera pinched the bridge of her nose and looked away from the book. It was the third one she had gone through and was just as useless as the others.

“That bad?” Tarquin asked. He was busy stirring a pot of stew in their fireplace.

“They all just say the same thing,” she complained. “Invested alchemy needs a catalyst in order to work, but none of them explain how. They’ll go on and on about which compounds you should combine to create the most basic of salves, but they’ll hardly touch invested.”

“Maybe the pirates don’t know either,” Tarquin suggested. “That would explain why they’re transmuting random alleyways.”

“Maybe.” Athera stood and grabbed their bowls from the water basin. She was still getting used to being able to get fresh water on demand indoors. Even the poorest of accommodations in Skystead were equipped with these, a small marvel.

“We should focus on the pirates,” Tarquin said as he poured a ladle of soup into each. “If we find them, we find it and Tallis.”

“And--”

“And Nestor,” Tarquin added. He gave her a tentative smile. “Can’t forget about him.” It was the first time either of them had dared to mention Nestor in a couple of days.

She nodded and tried to smile back. It felt…exhausting. Somewhere in the city was her brother. Somewhere in the city was her griffin. And somewhere in the city was an alchemical catalyst and some idiot using it to transmute alleyways. What was she supposed to do about any of it?

Tarquin’s expression slipped as well. “Look, I’m sorry about--”

“It’s not that,” Athera cut in. “I’m worried about the catalyst.”

Tarquin tilted his head. “Why?” She had tried to explain her parents' stories to him, had tried to find further proof inside those dusty books, but it was as if a piece of it were missing and gnawing at her very soul.

“The animals were acting strange,” she said at last. Tarquin looked more confused than ever.

“Animals can feel…they can feel alchemy?”

“Well…yeah. They can smell most basic alchemy, but they can definitely sense invested. That’s the one thing the books are clear about.”

A slow smile crossed Tarquin’s face. “I’ll be back.” He grabbed his cloak from off the chair he had draped it on and started putting it on. In his haste he knocked one of the bowls from off the table. Athera caught it, but most of the soup inside still splashed onto the floor.

“Where are you going?” she demanded. They had not brought enough money to waste food.

“To buy a bird,” Tarquin said as if that were the most normal thing in the world.

She stared at him.

“I’ll explain when I get back,” he said hurriedly. “The vendor only had a few left yesterday, I don’t want to miss out.” He rushed out the door, leaving Athera standing next to a puddle of soup.

“A bird?” she asked out loud. The walls of their room didn’t answer.

She waited for him to come back while she finished her soup, but Tarquin didn’t reappear. Maybe it was time to go find him at the market. She smiled at the thought of one of the vendors trying to sell him on some brightly colored bird. Maybe the city was finally rubbing off on him. She slipped on her own cloak and left for the lower markets.

Tarquin wasn’t at the lower markets. At least not any that Athera went to. Nor could she find any that were selling birds. Plenty of people selling autumn produce, a few stalls offering bits of scrap metal, and one family with gorgeous woven baskets in bright colors. The closest thing to a bird she could find was a man selling rats and trying to pass them off as having uncommon intelligence.

Hopefully Tarquin wouldn’t come back with one of those.

Athera frowned to herself. Had he gone to the upper levels? This city really was rubbing off on him. She started for the stairs and then hesitated, she wasn’t far from where they had chased that pirate.

Tarquin could wait a little longer, she reasoned as she found herself headed back for the alleyway. Part of her expected it to be blocked off, for someone to have realized that something was seriously wrong, but no one was there. Just an empty alleyway leading into one of the market squares. It made the back of her neck prickle.

Her scratches were still there, chalky white against the gray cobblestone. She knelt down beside them, suddenly wishing that she had brought a sample bottle. She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything she had read about catalysts and transmutation in the last couple of days. It was supposed to be difficult on a large scale, but here it was, random cobblestone reduced to chalk. Who would want that? And why?

“Oh, hello.” Athera jumped at the sound of a new voice. She turned to face a man, handsome once, with uniformly gray hair. He laughed softly and offered his hand to her. “I’m sorry miss, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Athera didn’t take it, she was too busy being hit in the face with her past.

“Mr…Mr. Blackthorne?” she asked. Her parents’ friend from Apolia was somehow standing before her. He had aged, and his nose had a bend she didn’t remember, but it was undoubtedly him.

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His smile faltered as he regarded her. “I’m sorry miss, have we met?”

She nodded, climbing to her feet. He was shorter than she remembered. “I’m Athera,” she said slowly. “It’s…it’s been a long time.”

Mr. Blackthorne’s eyes widened as he took in her features, his eyes lingering on the bit of scarring that peaked out over the mask. “Athera? My, how you’ve grown, it’s been--” he cut himself off as he seemed to remember just why he hadn’t seen her in so long.

“8 years,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat. “That was a terrible day. Tell me, what are you doing in the city? Last I heard you were doing quite well in your village.”

It had been him to suggest she go to the village in the first place. A calm place far away from the embers of her home and one that offered a fresh start.

“The village was attacked,” Athera said finally. “We’re here chasing a few things some pirates stole from us.”

Mr. Blackthorne’s expression darkened. “I don’t suppose the thing you’re chasing has anything to do with that lovely stonework behind you?”

She started. He had been in the same alchemist’s guild as her parents, of course he wouldn’t miss evidence of transmutation. “They took a catalyst,” she said, lowering her voice from any prying ears. Not that there were any. The nearest people she could see were engrossed in their shopping in the market square.

“And you found this little…mess?” Blackthorne asked approvingly. “Clever girl. You always were a little prodigy.”

Heat rushed to Athera’s cheeks. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice,” she admitted. “I can hardly remember anything I was taught.”

He smiled as he drew a small glass bottle out from his suit pocket. “You were quite young, my dear. I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He brushed a bit of the powder into the vile and one of the neighboring pebbles. “Walk with me, would you? I owe it to Nikos and Callista.”

Her heart twisted at the sound of her parents’ names. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Let’s.” They started off towards the market square.

“Mr. Blackthorne,” Athera started, but he raised his hand to stop her.

“Please, you’re hardly a child now, Alaric will do fine.”

“Alaric then. What are you doing in Skystead? When did you leave Apolia?”

“I moved not long after you went to the village,” he explained while sidestepping a group of kids drawing out some circles to play marbles in. “Apolia will always be home, but it was time to move on.”

Athera nodded, allowing herself to wonder how much Apolia may have changed in their absence. Would her family home have been rebuilt? The thought filled her with a strange mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite place.

“How have you done in the village? I admit I haven’t kept up with Catherine as I should--”

Athera turned sharply towards him. “You know Catherine?” As soon as she asked it she felt a fresh blush start to spread across her cheeks. It wasn’t like the man had just sent her to strangers--of course he knew the resident healer.

He seemed to think the same and smiled. “Catherine and I were in the same alchemists guild when we were young--not the one I was in with your parents of course, but a good one all the same. I should have kept in contact, it might have saved our current guild the hassle of realizing that Skystead had a rogue alchemist.”

Right. The catalyst. “Your current guild--what do they know?”

Alaric grinned at her. “Ever the astute one, my dear. I doubt we know much more than you, for example, we did not know that the catalyst had been brought here by pirates of all things.” he gave his head a disgusted shake. “Just that there’s been a few odd transmutations.”

“More than what’s in the alleyway? When did you start finding them?” How fast would the pirates have sold off the catalyst?

“Probably about two weeks ago. Real strange things, never transmuting into anything useful. I’ve only seen three others--all in the lower districts.”

Athera nodded. “So you think it’s a novice, someone who doesn’t know how to use it?”

Alaric hesitated as they started up another staircase. “Athera, tell me, how much alchemy do you know?”

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “I wasn’t being modest when I said I’ve forgotten most of it.”

“What do you know about catalysts?”

Athera had to fight the very inappropriate urge to grin. The thing she and Tarquin had spent weeks trying to figure out was finally in her grasp. “I’ve been trying to read up on them, but the books I have don’t say a lot.”

Alaric nodded. “Yes, that’s to be expected.” He led them into a deserted alleyway. “The books don’t say a lot because we don’t know a lot.”

Athera frowned and he raised a hand to stop her before she could speak.

“We know how to use one, sure, a few claim they even know how to make them, but they’re always unstable. You use one too much and it breaks. Tell me Athera, what is one of the hardest alchemical disciplines?”

“Transmutation,” she said slowly. Children were raised on bedtime stories of Rustum Gearheart, a great alchemist who with his catalyst would transmute rocks into gold for the poor and the gold of the rich into mere stones. Despite every child dreaming of doing the same, even full fledged alchemists rarely dabbled in transmutation. Until now.

“Exactly. It is something we can do, but the energy it takes to turn something into something it fundamentally was not is immense. It breaks the catalyst before long.”

“Then how…” Athera stopped, meeting Alaric’s gaze.

“Exactly,” he said. “This catalyst has my guild very worried. A normal one would have broken by now, but whoever has this one has enough energy to seemingly practice transmutation, let alone the other disciplines.”

“Could it be multiple?” Athera asked. The chances of that crashed over her as soon as she suggested it.

Alaric shook his head. “That would be…very unlikely. No, whoever has this one is dangerous, and we haven’t found a shred of evidence as to who they are until today.” He looked her over appraisingly. “Why don’t you come to our guild meeting tomorrow? You have firsthand knowledge of the people who have this catalyst and it would be good to work with another Leventis. Your parents were some of the most talented I’ve ever known.”

Athera found herself nodding.

“Excellent,” Alaric smiled. “We meet at noon in the building just across the way. He pointed out an ornate structure with beautiful stained glass windows. “Pirates,” he said with a shake of his head. “Ever the scourge on our fair Ignis.”

“What if the pirates don’t have it anymore?” Athera asked impulsively. “They might not have even known what they were taking.”

The alchemist shrugged. “Still best to put them in the prisons where they belong. We can find their buyer later. The important thing is that we find out where the catalyst is. I cannot over stress how dangerous it is.”

She nodded, a different anxiety starting to boil from deep within her. She had to get Nestor back before the authorities found the pirates. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asked with what she hoped didn’t look like a forced smile.

“At noon,” Alaric agreed. “Really, Athera, it is good to see you again.” He headed into the market square, heading for a set of stairs to the skyways.

Athera let out a slow breath, her head spinning. “Oh, Nestor,” she whispered. “What have you done?” She stepped into the market square, trying to think of ways she could get her brother safely out of this mess. How much time did they have left?