Here's to a good story! I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I'll enjoy writing it. ) And yes, due to a certain band possessing a similar name to my book I understand that it might seem a little weird as a title choice but Im sticking to it.
Prologue
There was once an inventor who lived in the snowy, windswept north. She resided within the confines of an ancient castle of iron, steel and stone. And in her solitude she invented, dreamt and labored all her imagination could conceive, such was the way of someone enthralled by magic, and alchemy. As the years waxed and waned her body, just as the brutal cold, and constant battles strained her mind and claimed their toll, she conceived and idea. In an epiphany of creative flair and feverish purpose she realized she longed to leave behind on this earth, her mark, something to be left behind to be able to say she was here.
Her mark upon the world, something that will transcend unstoppable time and claim that she existed, she was there...
Such a romantic notion...
But she also wished that her child would live, but not suffer, her own self imposed stigma; Solitude.
As her days drew to a close and the sheen of her eyes faded, she created her daughter; Eva.
Her final creation, a pod-like automaton carved from an iridescent colossal pearl, boasting an obsidian face and glowing turquoise eyes. The inventor poured into the little body the best humanity had to offer.
The Taste Of Generosity
A Touch of Kindness
The Tongue of Honesty
The Mind of Understanding
The Caress of Forgiveness
The Eyes of Loyalty
The Warmth of Love
The Breath of Life
And after creating the automaton, the inventor placed her in a deep slumber. She did this knowing that her time was running out, and that she was done, her swan song, had been sung. Not wanting her child to bear the weight of the brutal cold and the bitter and unforgiving nature of solitude, the inventor set Eva to awaken a little time before her heir arrived, when or if, he decided to come to the castle.
Dispatching an owl, with a letter passing on her work to the next in line. She slept for the last time, and her other automatons, watched her in silence, awaiting her to wake up as she always did, only this time, she didn't. And they understood, she had told them what to do, and they did. Buried, in the castle courtyard, they made her a simple gravestone of granite, and left without saying a word, feeling nothing for their old master's expiration.
Those guardians took to the castle halls, and tended to its upkeep and to its needs. And all kept a weathered eye, on the village to the south, understanding the paranoia of the villagers, and also knowing their wrath concerning what they don't understand.
Over the immutable pass of time, the letter made its way to the hands of a young man. The Alchemist read the letter with pause and attention, this strange text came from a relative, he had never met, from a country he had never been in, from a fortress he didn't know existed, inviting him to claim ownership. One bit in particular caught his eye.
What awaits you is Love.
Alchemist was a pragmatist and lonesome young man. One whom did not believe in marriage and had questionable faith in love.
The footnote at the corner of the map enclosed in the letter, unlike the promise of love, did hold his attention and pique his interest.
Beware of the villagers, trust no one, and do NOT trust the priest.
This seemed promising. A castle, a warning, a prize. It whispered of an adventure to him, an giving it little more thought, he left for the north with alchemy and his own wits in hand.