Chapter One
Gregory

	“Mmmm, so you're... Gregory?” His voice was coarse, lethargic. It sounded deeper than it was.
	Gregory's neck tightened and his head rose until Phreqs' black leather shoes came into view. “Yes.” He replied, his voice a hoarse whisper, his brow damp with cold sweat.
	Phreqs stared at him, his form faintly illuminated by the candles on the outer walls and the two candles at the front edges of his chair. They were hidden away in the darkness, beyond where Gregory could see, but he knew they were there: he knew the other Alchemist's were watching from behind him, their faces covered with crimson, silken robes, their scents blocked by ritual Magick. 
	“A fox.” Phreqs finally said. “There are not many foxes left.”
	“No. I'm...” He swallowed. “I'm one of the last ones.”
	The room went silent. Gregory took a heavy, stifled breath. [i][i]Not again, not more silence, [/i][/i]he thought. [i][i]How long do I have kneel here like this? What is he thinking? Am I going to be accepted?[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]He swallowed again, running over the same question for the millionth time. [i][i]What happens if... I'm not?[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]“Look into my eyes, Gregory.”
	His throat tightened with fear. His head slowly shifted up to meet Phreqs.
	[i][i]Why am I so scared? [/i][/i]He wondered. [i][i]Why am I so scared to look into his eyes? Why am I so scared to be here?[/i][/i]
[i][i]	I... belong here, don't I?[/i][/i]
[i][i]	This is my home now.[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]Phreqs' black robe was little more than a black splotch on a black surface that seemed to eat any light that came near it, but Gregory's eyes had adjusted and he could make out his silhouette now. He followed it upward, until he saw a hood.
	Phreqs grunted and rose from his low, slouched position. He sat up straight and pushed his hood back.
	Gregory's eyes widened. [i][i]He looks like a normal man, [/i][/i]he thought. [i][i]He isn't a monster. He's just...a man.[/i][/i]
[i]	[/i]Phreqs looked back at him, nearly squinting, his brown eyes and white flesh twinkling faintly in the light.
	[i]He's just a man, but... he looks so pained. So old, but so... young at the same time.[/i]
[i]	[/i]“Gregory,” Phreqs said, his voice a whisper. In the silent chamber, Gregory heard it clear. Do you know what it means to be an Alchemist?”
	“It's to...” Gregory paused. He thought back to all the times he'd pondered this question. To all the different answers he'd given himself at different times. He needed to make his depth and profundity known here, but he wanted to be concise and elegant as well. “It's... change.” He finally answered.
	Phreqs' head cocked the slightest bit to the side. “Oh?”
	“Y-Yes. It's... to change something in accordance with will.”
	“Mmhm. And what do you change with alchemy, fox?”
	“You....” He paused again. A feeling of brashness overcame him, a sudden confidence in light of his immediate danger. “What do you not change with alchemy?” He finished.
	Phreqs stayed silent for some time before standing. He rose slowly, his movements lethargic and pained., and before he rose completely, a hooded figure appeared at his side and helped him. Another hooded figure appeared from his other side and handed him a book.
	“You are no fool, fox. You did not come here unprepared.”
	Gregory watched him approach, one small, pained step at a time.
	“Do you know what it means? Do you know what this act of change is? What it means to change the world in accordance with your will?”
	Gregory swallowed.
	“Do you fathom the immensity of this action? Do you know what it is to wave your finger and have it... be done? Do you know the cost, boy?”
	“The... cost?”
	“What is the purpose of existence, Gregory? What is the point of it all?” Phreqs stopped a few steps away from him.
	“The p-point?”
	“Yes, boy. Why do you suffer? Why do you endure this? What is the [i]point?[/i]”
	“...What's the meaning to life?” Gregory asked.
	“Call it what you will. Just tell me what you think it is.”
	Gregory looked up at Phreqs, his throat tight. “It's... I....” His heart pounded against his chest and his blood ran cold. “I... I d-don't....”
	“You don't know?” Phreqs pressed. “You don't know why you live?”
	Gregory fell silent for several moments. He could feel all the eyes in silent hall on him, but he had no idea how many eyes there were tucked away in that oppressive wall of black.
	“It's....” He began, tentatively. “Why I live...?” He looked up at Phreqs. His eyes widened a bit as another wave of confidence and power washed over him, like the one from before, but stronger now. [i]“[/i]You want to know why I... endure?”
	Phreqs' chin rose. He looked down at Gregory, his eyes a bit wider now too.
	“There's only one reason anybody lives. It's because there's a purpose.”
	Phreqs continued to look down at him.
	“I couldn't tell you what it was, though. All I know is that it's there.”
	“...You know that it's there.” Phreqs repeated. “But you don't know what it is that's there?”
	Gregory thought about this for a moment. “Yes.”
	“And how do you, boy? What tells you that there is a purpose at all?”
	Gregory's chest tightened. He'd known the question was coming, but he doubted his ability to answer—let alone in a few words. “I know, because... why else would we be... condemned to live?”
	Phreqs' eyes tightened. “Condemned to live?”
	“Yes. Why... would we be forced to endure this? Why would we be trapped here?”
	“We're trapped here?” Phreqs asked curiously. “But what of suicide? Isn't that an option?”
	“Yes, but... that's an end to life. An end to [i]this [/i]life, or to [i]that [/i]life. Who's to say that it ends... life, though? Isn't life the only thing we've ever seen? How do we even know death exists—exists in the sense that... in the sense that we can go there, or that we can manifest it, or that... we can feel it, that it exists at all as an [i]opposite[/i] to life? Isn't life just a collection of various elements that comprise a sentient being? At least fundamentally? Isn't it just... processes? How does this one thing, all grouped together in our terms, in our definitions and understandings and our world view, how can we accurately say this... homunculus of human thought we call a body or a 'self' has an opposite at all? Isn't it typical of something with no actual opposite to simply become.. negative? The lack thereof? Isn't that... death? A fancy way of saying 'nothing?' If death only ends[i] a life[/i], but leaves existence intact, then wouldn't existence just continue to beget life? To force this... hellish experience over and over again? Forever?”
	Phreqs remained silent. No part of his face moved. He seemed so still in the pale light that Gregory was not sure if he was still breathing.
[i]	[/i]After awhile of this, Phreqs groaned softly. 
	“...And as for life,” he began. “You claim it is just... a homunculus of human thought? Just a series of aspects of existence mashed together into one convenient logos?”
	“Y-Yes.”
	“And you believe this logos to fundamentally be... a condemnation? You consider life a sentence that goes on forever?“
	“To a degree... yes.” Gregory answered. “If this is not a condemnation, then I don't know what i-”
	In the time it took for Gregory's heart to beat, Phreqs pulled a massive slab of steel from seemingly nowhere in the darkness and swung it toward Gregory. By the time his mind caught up with Phreqs' appalling speed, the slab of steel was already hovering by his head, cold metal pressing into his cheek. A drop of blood ran warm down his icy cheek, saturating his fur.
	[i]A... scythe.... [/i]Gregory thought, his body numb from the sudden rush of adrenaline. [i]So fast....[/i]
[i]	[/i]“You said life was a condemnation, didn't you, Gregory?” Phreqs asked, his eyes wide now.
	“Y-Yes.” Gregory whispered.
	“Then tell me something. If life is such a condemnation, why are you so afraid of having yours taken away?”
	Gregory's eye shifted toward the gigantic scythe's curving, glimmering blade. It extended out past his head from the front and presumably from behind. The blade was wider than his torso.
	[i]No man should be able to hold that with one hand.... It's huge.[/i]
	He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. The initial urge was to say that he didn't know, to say that he was sorry, to say it was all a mistake and that he wasn't cut out to be an Alchemist, but in the back of his head, in the back of his heart, tucked away in the depths of his very core, he felt a force—something moving, something [i]alive.[/i]
[i]	[/i]He opened his mouth and the words came out, surprising even him as he spoke. “C-C-Condemned t-to live. A-And c-cond-demned to die. And condemned t-to fear....” Gregory's eyes shifted up and met Phreqs'. “But w-w-w-worst of a-all, c-condemned to cling forever to the very instrument of my t-torture.”
	Phreqs' eyes widened. His lips curled up into a smile, barely visible in the light. Slowly, the scythe fell away into darkness. Phreqs relaxed and pulled it close, sliding his hand up the massive shaft and letting huge blade rest on the floor. He approached.
	“Here.” Phreqs reached out with his other hand and gave the book to Gregory. “You will need to read this. And then you will need to read it again. You need to study this relentlessly. Over and over again. Whenever you have an issue that you cannot work through, you will turn to this book. Whenever you have a question that only you can answer—this book will be your guide.”
	Gregory took the old tome from him. There was no cover, and when he turned it around, there was no text on the back.
	“Now,” Phreqs smiled again. “I have one more question.”
	“...Y-Yes?” Gregory swallowed. The force he'd felt before, it writhed around, making him shake and making his head spin.
	“Tell me, boy....” Phreqs reached out and wiped the small bit of blood on Gregory's cheek.
	Gregory felt something rise up in his throat, like he was going to vomit, but without the nausea. It came only with a sense of worry, a sense of expectation, and a deep desire for satisfaction similar to wanting to spit rising mucus rather than swallow it.
	Phreqs looked at his bloodied finger. He reached out and touched Gregory's forehead. He dragged his finger down, leaving a small trail of blood. “...What's your favorite fruit?”
	Gregory opened his mouth and the word tumbled out, as if spoken by another.