My horse and I slowly made our way up the rocky hill. The stout creature was more experienced than I in these matters, so I let him determine the safest path to the apex. When we finally crested the hill, my four-legged companion took a moment to catch his breath, which gave me a chance to take in the view of my destination for the first time.

While not as ornate as Epistylia, Micarus had an inexplicable beauty worked into its stone buildings. Within that flat grey stone, however, lied the city-state’s strength. It’s called theunium, or nilrock colloquially. Mined from the heart of the nearby Farwen mountains, nilrock has the unique ability to suppress magic. Naturally this was the perfect counter to Exusia’s superior, but magic dependent, military. And so it was understandable that Micarus remained the only independent nation on the continent.

All of this made the letter I received from King Rand Almeric peculiar, to say the least.

Sir Daelyngridge,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. Unfortunately, my reason for contacting you is the opposite. Before I explain my circumstances, I must emphasize that this information is given to you in confidence. I have heard you are a good man, and trust you live up to that reputation. This is also why I opted to contact you directly, as opposed to the proper method. I hope you will soon understand this breach in protocol, and do not see it as a slight against your Order.
You might be aware that my late wife died quite young, and as such only left me with one child, a daughter, Theophania. She is more important to me than anything, and I would give my kingdom to protect her. And so you understand the gravity of my decision to request your aid, despite my distaste for magic.
Theophania has become gravely ill. My court physician, one of the greatest minds in Micarus, has been unable to rouse her from a slumber that has gripped her for a week and some days. She is cold as the grave and her breathing grows shallower with each passing day.
I beg of you, Master Mage, use your eldritch power to save my daughter.
King Rand Almeric

It’s not very often a pompous ruler with a hatred for your life’s work gets on his metaphorical hands and knees, so I seriously considered telling him to shove it, but my damn conscious won out in the end. And so I found myself surreptitiously approaching the westernmost guardhouse, shaded from the morning sun by the massive nilrock wall around the city. I showed the guard posted outside the note of passage as instructed, bid farewell to my horse, and I was quickly brought through a series of dark passageways that ultimately led me to a meeting room that I assumed was in the castle based on the décor. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to retrace my steps if I needed to make a hasty exit, but it was too late to second-guess myself.

I sat in this chamber with my guard escort for what felt like an eternity. I was surrounded by nilrock, my first exposure to more than a pebble of it. I felt claustrophobic in my own skin and started to sweat profusely, feeling my throat closing. I have faced certain death on more than one occasion, but I had never felt more panicked than I did in that moment. When you’ve been studying magic your entire life, you become one with it. It is an extension of your body and mind, has influence in your every action and thought. Having that piece of myself suppressed felt like losing all of my limbs at once. A servant brought water, which I gratefully lifted to my lips with a shaky hand. I managed to pull myself together enough to stand and greet the man that finally entered the chamber.

He stood a full two heads taller than me and looked half my weight. He had pale skin that was so thin I could just barely see his veins, and fair hair he kept tightly gelled to his head. In stark contrast, his watery eyes were nearly black and looked me up and down with clear distaste. I suspected this man wasn’t completely human, which was unexpected given the rumors of Almeric’s racism.

“My name is Ambrose Fulburne. You may address me as Mr. Fulburne. I take it you are Mr. Isaac Daelyngridge,” he said with an accent I couldn’t quite place. Proper etiquette dictated that he refer to me as “Archalchemist” or “Archmage,” but I held my tongue.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Fulburne. I apologize for my appearance, it is quite the journey here from Caan Mirilin,” I replied, noting the almost comical difference between my frayed traveler’s clothes and his perfectly tailored suit.

He gave me an imperious glare. “You certainly did take your time. We expected a member of the esteemed Council of Archmagi would have more efficient means of travel.”

“Magical transportation can be quite rough on alchemical materials, and I brought some particularly delicate ones with me.” I patted my precious component case to emphasize the point. “Now, the King’s letter made the situation seem urgent. I’d like to begin examining the Prin-“

“The patient is right this way,” he cut in. He spoke smoothly but his eyes gave away his momentary panic. It seemed even the castle guards didn’t know who I was there to treat. Fulburne walked out of the room without looking to make sure I followed, leaving the guard behind. I hastily joined him, eager to get out of the oppressive chamber. He walked quickly in a gait that was just a little too smooth, almost like he had rehearsed it. Fulburne led me through halls that were inclined, causing us to descend underground. The deeper we got, the pressure I felt from the nilrock lessened until it was practically unnoticeable. I realized they had prepared a location for me where I could fully use my powers. That was why I was there, after all.

I brushed my hand against the wall, which was much rougher than in the castle proper. I let my aura seep into the stone, feeling its mineral composition. My stonesense detected miniscule traces of theunium, which was probably natural for the area. The moment I did this, however, Fulburne stiffened and stopped so suddenly I almost walked right into his back.

Without turning to look at me, he said, “You will not use magic outside of your designated chamber. It will be used solely for completion of the King’s request, and nothing more,” with a voice that practically dripped with venom. Definitely not human. I made a mental note to research species that could innately sense magic.

After that pause, we continued walking until we reached a stone door guarded by two soldiers bearing the crest of Micarus. The hallway was so narrow they had to press their backs against the walls to give us enough space to pass. Fulburne pulled an iron key from some unseen pocket and unlocked the door with a click.

The room was little more than a stone box, but attempts were made to make it comfortable. A thick rug covered most of the floor and paintings were hung from the walls alongside curtains and oil lamps. Various intricately made furniture items adorned the room, which made me wonder how they brought everything down here without magic. A simple cot sat at the far end of the room, presumably my bed. A wooden doorway led to what I assumed to be a bathroom.

The main fixture in the room, of course, was a plush, four-poster bed that held the princess herself. Theophania was a small girl, probably no older than 13. She had a delicate face framed by straight blonde hair. The covers moved slightly up and down, telling me she had a weak but steady breath.

“You will remain in this room until the princess has recovered,” Fulburne informed me, standing just outside the threshold. His tone implied I wouldn’t be leaving if I failed. “Your meals will be brought by servants, who will also feed and wash the princess.”

“Don’t bother. I can nourish both of us with alchemy. I’ll also clean her with my magic, that’s trivial.” Fulburne began to protest, but I cut in, “Any disturbance could be fatal to the princess. I’m surprised she’s still breathing with how often you must have handled her.” That wasn’t entirely true, but I wanted to drive the point home. It also brought me some pleasure to see Fulburne squirm slightly at my reproach.

“Very well,” he said, even stiffer than before. He nodded to me, shut the door, and locked it once again. Confirming my suspicions, there was no keyhole on this side. I would either be leaving with the princess, or not at all.

Pushing the political ramifications of imprisoning an archmage aside, I began my preparation. I set my case on an oak desk by my cot, then returned to the center of the room. I allowed my vision to blur, then slip into my mage sight, allowing me to see the normally invisible ambient magic in the air. I let my aura extend from my body, which altered the ambient magic to match it. I was pleased to see that it was mostly pale blue, with only hints of red streaks. My aura filled the room completely like a gas. If any magical sensors or divinations were hidden here, they would have been clearly visible now. Unsurprisingly, there were none.

Micarus relies on mundane methods for tasks, and that includes espionage. From a pouch in my cloak, I pulled a small bag of chalk dust. I threw a handful into the air, then evoked wind to blow the dust throughout the room. Seeking the path of least resistance, the dust was blown through two peepholes drilled into the walls. I closed those with some wax. Lastly, I took a prism from another pocket and created a mote of light within it. The light was cast throughout the room and reflected off of three more peepholes with glass lenses. A pinch of charcoal and some magic turned each lens into a bead of opaque slag.

Confident I wouldn’t be watched, the real work began. I passed my hand over the seam at the top of my case, letting my aura activate the invisible runes inscribed in the wood. The top half of the box split along its length and sprung open, revealing rows of containers filled with all manner of ingredients and components, anything an alchemist could need to work miracles. The case is slightly bigger on the inside, letting me store more materials without damaging them with the magic inherent in a pocket dimension. I’m particularly proud of the formula I wrote to calculate the optimal dimensions based on the case size and contents. This breakthrough let me create the first component pouch, the most influential of my Works. While my component case is technically a prototype to the slimmed down pouch, I still prefer it. I thanked Estia for granting me two Disciplines of Making, and got out my athame, a ritual knife gifted to me by my master, which I strapped to my belt.

I began my examination by going through a mundane medical checkup. This wasn’t part of the typical alchemist’s training, but knowledge of medicine had saved me a lot of work in the past. It’s amazing how many “curses” turn out to just be an infection. Unfortunately for Theophania, her body was perfectly healthy. That meant Almeric’s judgement was right. No one in Micarus would’ve been able to cure this.

I mixed some thyme, crushed glowworm, and a few other ingredients into a solution with alcohol as a base. As I stirred, I extended my aura once again, this time into the various tattoos of alchemical symbols that run across my body. These are another of my Works, probably my most personally useful creation. I invoked the runes of iron, calcium, and carbon. I placed these runes into a circle in my mind, plus some additional runes, which I then inscribed on the alcohol in my solution.

My potion complete, I carefully fed it to the Princess. I watched it flow into her stomach and get absorbed into her bloodstream with my mage sight. The blood carried it throughout her body, allowing it to seep into her organs, bones, and nerves. I could now use mage sight to monitor her vitals, as well as perform procedures on her that would normally require invasive surgery. This method was created by Master Cimorith to avoid using transmutation directly on a subject, which is expressly forbidden.

The rest of the day was spent taking notes on Theophania’s current state, after which I retired. My sleep was once again haunted by my demons, but I didn’t expect that to change, even if my aura was particularly clear.

My next week progressed slowly. I monitored Theophania’s condition while I ran experiments, gave her medicine, and formulated new potions to try. When I had to wait for results, I contacted trusted friends in the Archive to send me research that might help. It was a frustrating, slow process. On the seventh day of treatment, Theophania stopped breathing.

It happened while I was inscribing a particularly complex circle. I had dedicated a portion of my Concentration to constantly monitoring Theophania, but it must have waned when I got too invested in the circle. By the time I noticed she was being starved of oxygen, I didn’t have a chance to think. So I let my instincts take control. My body moved on its own as my aura flared around me, now visible to the naked eye. I pressed my hand to her chest and committed the cardinal sin of alchemy for the first time in nearly two decades. I invoked oxygen, dragging the element in its pure form from my own blood and body into hers.

I was now breathing for two, and close to passing out myself. I pulled my athame from its sheath, which had rested at my side unused since I arrived in Micarus, and touched the point to the palm of her right hand. Working without thinking I used the athame to inscribe a transmutation circle into her skin. It was difficult work, with my left hand still on her chest to keep giving her oxygen and my vision blurring, but I closed the circle and plunged her hand into a glass of water sitting on her bedside table. The circle glowed as it absorbed the oxygen in the water and fed it directly to her body. Then I passed out.

When I came to, the glass was almost empty. Without oxygen, the hydrogen in the water had dispersed into the air. I got a bucket of water from the bathroom and transferred Theophania’s hand to that. I’d have to refill the bucket periodically, but the bathroom had a working tap and Theophania wouldn’t suffocate.

On day nine, I was at the end of my rope. I had run through every magical disease I could find information on. I went through and checked for curses of the body. I contacted every expert I trusted for advice. Nothing. I had to look into her Self, then change whatever was killing her. And so, for the second time in ten days, I sinned.

I began just before midnight, when alchemy is at its strongest. A solstice would have been ideal, but I didn’t have two spare months to wait. Removing my bracelet of silvery metal, I willed it into a sphere in my hand. It was pure mythral, the most valuable thing I owned. And I was prepared to burn all of it that night.

The truth was, I had grown fond of the child in my care. I had only known Theophania for nine days, but I knew I would do anything I could to protect her. In those moments, I finally had some idea of what could drive a man like Rand Almeric to practically beg for help from a man like me. Perhaps some part of me believed I could redeem myself if I saved this girl.

I Shaped my mythral into a wire that I snaked into my left hand. I felt the cold metal, buzzing with my own aura, trace its way along my bones, weaving in and out of my skin, until it ended with a point on each of my fingertips. It was excruciating. The pain nearly blinded me, and I was unable to stifle my cries of agony. But when I was done, I had turned my hand into an extremely reactive alchemical tool that I could manipulate with the dexterity of a hand. With my black-handled athame, I inscribed one forbidden rune on each fingertip. Blood. Bone. Flesh. Mind. Spirit. On my palm I wrote my true Name, imbuing my own Self into this ritual.

At precisely midnight, I pressed my alchemy-infused hand to Theophania’s forehead and flared my aura. My magic surged into my hand, was amplified by the mythral, transformed by the runes, and sent into the Princess of Micarus. My bodily senses faded, and I was a being of pure magic. I was no longer a person, I was a force, an idea. I simply was. And I saw it. The thing that kept my poor patient trapped in her own body. It was amorphous, moving like a ferrofluid being manipulated by an unseen magnet, constantly changing. And it was evil. Truly evil. It wanted to cause suffering, despair. It wanted to torture. It terrified me. It came at me like a wave threatening to rip me apart, shredding my very essence into dust, and then nothing at all. I leveraged my own considerable magical might, but found myself completely impotent against this Unmaker.

With my Self weakened considerably, I retreated back into my body but couldn’t get away. Now I could see it with my bare eyes, floating above Theophania but anchored to the point of contact between us. I could feel it forcing its way into my body, and realized it could become physical and enter the Material plane this way. The Unmaker would use my body, already made malleable by human transmutation, to pass through the Veil and wreak havoc on Estia. I knew I could never let that happen. If I died, even if Theophania died, it would be a worthwhile sacrifice to stop this thing.

I reached my free hand up to my chest, right above my heart. The dagger I had plunged there seventeen years ago materialized. The chains I forged from my blood sprang from the iron dagger and wrapped around my torso. The human transmutation circle inscribed in my flesh burned with a deep red fire, an echo of the pain I felt that day. When I opened my mouth, that same hellfire rose out of it like breath on a cold day.

“I invoke your power by the Rite of Binding, penned in my blood and signed by yours!” I screamed, “On your Name, I release your Seal!” My demon’s true Name ripped itself out of my throat. I pulled the dagger out of my chest, the chains melted and reformed around it in the shape of a spear. Our aura tore at the Unmaker in front of me, now a deep red, and I thrust Vel, the Corrupt Spear of Chaos into its center.

When the hellfire subsided enough that I could see, I realized I had collapsed on the ground at the side of Theophania’s bed. I felt wet, hot blood gushing out of the wound in my chest and my eyes grew heavy. The last thing I saw before the darkness overtook me were Theophania’s teary blue eyes looking down at me.

A life for a life. A sin for a sin.

This is the first in a series of vignettes that take place in Estia, my custom fantasy setting. It’s a little different than what I normally write, but I hope you enjoyed it, regardless. Thanks for reading.