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Rumors are next-door neighbors to gossip, and gossip always breaks bread with lies.
There had once been three branches of Alchemists—Fae who sought to discover the path to immortality, Fae who sought to create and invent by transmuting various metals and ores, and lastly, Fae who sought to cure illness and disease.
“Don’t call her Sunshine,” he commanded. “Why not?”
“And she captured you almost perfectly, too.”
Pointing at the runes on my index and middle fingers, he named them one at a time. “Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Salt. Brimstone. Quicksilver. The full gamut. More power than any Alchemist I’ve ever encountered. You are capable of restoring me to my power and a lot more besides.”
“You were supposed to have been born Fae, in the same realm as your Kingfisher. So I separated you. Hundreds of years before you were born, I shifted the events around your birth. Moved the pieces on the board and placed you far away, in a realm that should never have come into contact with his. But I watched as the boughs of the universe grew against their nature and aligned in such a way that you would still meet. I foresaw then that no matter how the boughs and branches of this tree were manipulated, you and he would always collide. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

