Alchemised

by SenLinYu

She could still smell the smoke and blood in the summer heat, hear the raucous cheers as Resistance leaders died, their screams fading. Watching them die, and knowing it was still not over, even then.

The woman was a vivimancer. Necromancy’s inverse twin, wielded on the living rather than the dead.

The more important, more journeyed, the stronger the path. The less journeyed”—fingers fluttered—“it fades.”

“You know,” Ferron said, jolting her from her thoughts, “when I heard it was you I’d be getting, I was looking forward to breaking you.” He shook his head. “But I don’t think it’s possible to exceed what you’ve done to yourself.”

Helena had loved him for how human he was. He didn’t need to be Principate or favoured by the gods. He’d been good enough just as he was.

“The Undying. You’re his source of power, and the Resistance—we figured that out, didn’t we? How to kill him. How to kill all of you.”

The spark she’d once regarded as the most intrinsic part of who she was had gone out. She was a vibrant corpse,

“Realise what? That Morrough’s dying or that he’s been creating the Undying as some sort of power source?”

Things that seem too good to be true usually have a price you don’t know about until it’s too late.”

That if they were conditioned with a sufficiently strong sense of dependence, they would begin to rationalise and justify any—any harm they suffered, and even try to form an emotional connection or even feelings towards the person controlling them, as a sort of survival instinct.”

“I would rather spend the rest of my life being raped in Central than spend a minute of it having feelings for you.”

“He wants you, Marino,” Crowther said. “Both now and after the war.”

“I don’t need time to think,” Helena said. “You say we’re losing the war, and this is the only option, so—I’ll do it.”

“Because I wish to see every necromancer wiped from the face of this earth. That is the purpose of the Eternal Flame and the reason for the Principate’s crown. I will see this city burned to ash sooner than allow necromancers to use it as their stronghold,” Crowther said, baring his teeth.

Calculating, Cunning, Devoted, Determined, Ruthless, Unfailing, Unhesitating, and Unyielding.

If it worked, it would carve Ferron down into these eight compounding qualities, potentially erasing everything else about him.

She couldn’t fix herself anymore, and no one else seemed inclined to even notice she was breaking.

You are all alone, and when the war is over, you will still be alone.

Instead of perpetually ice-sharp and guarded, he felt like something she might drown in.

“You made me feel like the parts of me that aren’t useful still deserve to exist. Like I’m not just all the things I can do.”

Calculating, Cunning, Devoted, Determined, Ruthless, Unfailing, Unhesitating, and Unyielding.

“You know, I just realised, if I succeed, you’ll control Ferron the same way you use Luc to control me. It makes me feel rather sorry for him.”

“We are all expendable to Morrough. So you see, I am intimately acquainted with the illusion of choice.” He smiled, slow and cruel. “That’s why I recognise it.”

The whole city, the Principate, the Faith, the history, every mural, every amulet. All lies.

She looked at him and realised that she was being forced to choose. Luc or Kaine? She could only save one. She had to choose Luc, but it was going to kill her to do it.

“Anything,” she said, pressing a hand against his neck. “Whatever the price.” She pushed the energy out of her body and brought him back. It was more than just easy. It was instinctive.

Luc saw Soren standing, and for an instant, relief flooded across his face. Then vanished. Luc knew. In an instant, he somehow knew.

“You are not replaceable,” he said, his hands trembling against her shoulders. “You are not required to make your death convenient. You are allowed to be important to people.

Prison uprisings are a dangerous thing. There are prisons the size of towns. To keep order, it is important that the guards are not the enemy. Instead, you make the prisoners think their trouble is other prisoners, a different unit or sector. Those prisoners are the reason this prisoner has less; the rules they hate are those prisoners’ fault. By making privileges always at the expense of others, the prisoners forget who has made those rules. Morrough liked this idea. To take the souls, he must make the prisoners blame someone else. Even after the energy was taken, the blame must continue to be misdirected.”

Nine points. Northern alchemy almost always used either five or eight, the elemental or celestial numbers. Those were

“Being alive is not the same as living. I hope someday you’ll have a chance to realise the difference.”

“No. He’s what I need, and he’s what it took to save you.”