This is mainly a sort of test. I just want to see where this goes, and how people receive it here. Hope you enjoy it! I also apologize for how short it is.

Snow dotted the windowpane, bearing down upon the earth in icy sheets. Inside this warm and humble abode, a boy worked, sweat beading his forehead, and mouth strained with concentration.

Books littered the floor, open to pages about alchemy. On the table in front of him, was a dented bronze jar and beside it, a silver tray. With hope – and enough confidence – he was going to turn fix this jar, and gain some cenz for his services.

His hands glowed blue with power, and electric-like tendrils shot out of his hands, encircling the jar. A pair of hands were placed against the jar, a deep thrumming reverberating within the boy.

I can feel it… the density of this jar… its chemical makeup…

Now to use the energy of the tray.

He grasped the tray as well, encircling it in blue. The two objects spoke to him, practically begging him to morph them and adjust their physical appearance.

With a puff of air, he added his energy to the mix. Let's go. I'm ready for this.

For a while, it seemed as if the whole process was going hunky-dory… for a while, that was.

W-what? What's… going on?

The two objects were sucking up more energy than he initially thought; he could feel his hands growing limp. His eyelids sagged, fluttering of their own accord.

No, no! Stop! Don't give in!

His legs were the first to give out, the table crashing, and the line of energy cut off. It seemed as if that was that, that a boy would be found unconscious – barely breathing – amidst a scattering of books in his room.

But no. Both of the objects vibrated violently, radiating a pure white light. The floor vibrated with energy, and a couple of doors down, a young couple was shaken awake abruptly.

The whole room was filled with this white light, covering the boy in it. In a sudden flash, the boy was gone, leaving behind a black scar on the floorboards. Ashes rained down across his room. On his bed, lay a glinting necklace, embedded with lapis lazulis.

Chris felt his sense return to him in an instant, enough time for him to understand what was happening to him. Enough for him to discern the series of events that led him to his moment. In short terms…

What the hell just happened?

One minute, he stood in the middle of his room. And the next… he was… in limbo? Yeah, that was correct, limbo. An infinite nothingness that stretched as far as the naked eye could see.

What is this? Where am I?

He could feel an onrush of images plague his brain, an indication that his brain was starting to work on remembering. Chris mulled through the images that he saw – or had seen, and done already since they were a memory? – stopping to the moment when… there was just light.

That… that's it. All I remember is sudden flash of light… and then…

He took a step back in this white wasteland. Is this… Rebound? Another step back.

Or something else?

Behind him stood a – no, floated. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a gate that floated above the floor of this white oblivion. He inspected this door closer, finding a tree engraved onto the gate itself. He blinked twice. The door was still there. Thrice.

It was still there.

"Where the hell am I?" He murmured, jumping at the sudden response, "Hell is correct indeed." Chris hadn't expected a response in this stark post-apocalyptic reality, especially one that sounded so high-pitched. "Am I not correct, Chris Hale?"

Chris turned behind to look, terror fueling his veins. What sat before him was a… miniature mannequin. Or, roughly about the same height and size as him.

"Am I correct, Chris Hale?" repeated the voice, and out of the sheer nothingness, formed… a being. Darkness radiated from this person; looking closer, he saw that the darkness formed the outline of the creature – being, whatever it was.

"W-who are you?" He asked, surprised to find that he could speak. He was scared out of his wits right now, at this person, at the mysterious stone door behind him, at this seemingly everlasting limbo. Chris just wanted to go back home and let Agnes, his little sister, steal his vegetables again. He'd strip naked if he could.

The midget snorted, raising his hands with a flourish, "I am what you would call the world." There was tone of finality with the way the being said it, almost as if he were about to exact something horrible on him, "Or perhaps the universe, or perhaps God, or perhaps truth, or perhaps all, or perhaps one. I am also," the being pointed a finger to Chris, "you. I am Truth."

"T-Truth?" He stuttered out, flummoxed. Out of the number of alchemy books he had read, he had not once come across a being named Truth. Even a being that was supposedly everything and nothing at the same time.

Chris could feel a trickle of questions collect in his headand with sudden realization, he felt that the being knew them too. The being, Truth, did say he was him… however odd that sounded.

Truth held up a finger, "The first question in your mind shall be answered: 'What is this door behind me?'" Chris tried to not look surprised, or impressed.

"To put it simply, it is your Gate of Truth. The door to all of alchemy, and to God's domain which no human is supposed to tread."

Truth held up another finger, "Your second question, 'What is this place?'" Truth held up a hand, gesturing to the endless void around him, "This is my domain, and purely my own. This is where I exact my punishments on those foolish enough to perform Human Transmutation."

"Punishments? Human Transmutation?" His heart was racing faster than a torpedo, what did he do to get here? He hadn't even performed any-

"And, your final question," Truth held up his third finger, "'What did I do to be here?' Here's my answer to that. Nothing." Truth put down his hand, "You did absolutely nothing to be here, and yet you are here." Truth stood up, "Now I wonder why is that?"

"I don't know." He told the truth – heh, nice pun – and scrambled desperately within himself for what he – it – wanted. Then it dawned on him. He had nothing to give. He didn't do anything wrong.

"What was inside the bronze jar?"

A weight was lifted off his shoulders almost immediately. "The bronze jar had nothing in it. I thought you knew, since you are me?"

"Funny joke. What was inside the bronze jar?" Truth repeated once more, leaving Chris at a loss.

"Nothing." He repeated adamantly. "There was nothing in the bronze jar."

"Don't lie to me. There were ashes inside that bronze jar. Ashes of a dead woman. Your mother."

This stopped him, and it took him a moment to realize what Truth said, and even if it did repeat itself, he still wouldn't have understood, "What?" He asked, struggling to continue, "I don't know… how she got there. She… I… since that day, I have not set a foot near her grave! I'm fairly sure that the funeral organizers never cremated her!" But to be honest, he wasn't sure at all.

"No matter the reason, you still attempted Human Transmutation. But you did not sacrifice anything-."

"Of course I didn't!" What was going on here, what was happening right now? Was this even real?

"Pipe down. I will judge your sacrifice instead. Something that you love… something that you care about…" Truth mulled it over for a moment, tapping a finger to a chin, before he had an idea, and a perfect one it was, "I will take away your family from you. It is only fitting."

Chris's eyes snapped open from their dreamer's trance, and he barely registered anything before pouncing on the silhouette of a being. Taking away his family was extreme, that… that was going too far! Wrong move, he soon found out as the boy pointed a finger at him, and almost instantaneously; he stood stock-still, like a statue, every inch of his body shivering. "Ah, ah." He tut-tutted. "No punching, young man."

"Stop stealing and messing with my voice, you incessant creep!"

"What? I am you after all." The little bastard got closer to Chris's face. Truth snapped his fingers.

"How about it? Do you accept this?"

"No!"

"It's too late anyway."

Chris's eyes twitched, his mouth pulled back to reveal his gritted teeth. Hands grabbed at him from behind, struggling to get a handhold on him.

No! No!

"Say goodbye, Chris Hale, the alchemist."

No! There must be a way!

He let out croak, after pleading croak, the hands dragging him deeper and deeper into the inky darkness of the void within.

No! Please! He darted his head, frantic, Someone, anyone! Help! HELP!

Before, the unholy white of limbo frightened him, but now, he would give anything to escape this place of darkness, to bask in the light once more.

To see my family once more.

The temperature dropped, and he guessed he must've been inside. He moved, struggling inch by inch.

Truth! Truth! He stared with intense hate at this being, I will find you, and I will kill you! The last image he saw before everything went a startling white… was Truth standing stock-still, its face held down. The mouth of the being moved, and Chris stopped himself; instead of feeling anger, he felt…

Stunned.

Truth swiped his hand, the door giving a great heave before shutting completely, and before he was dragged into the dark by hands that looked more ethereal than anything he had seen. His anger reached new peaks when he realized what Truth had said, those twelve words that left him gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry, Chris. You'll see why I had to do this."

Head to Beacon…

Chris wasn't sent free falling, or hurtling through scraps of paper and wind. Instead, he was just… there. From limbo… to here… wherever here was. Lights danced around his eyes for a bit, and his head hurt like the demon itself had cleaved an ax through it, but other than that, he seemed fine.

Darkness surrounded him that was for sure. Was he stuck in some cave? Or in death? Was death even a physical reality? Why was he asking so many questions? There was also a putrid smell that wafted through the air, like garbage under the rain. Was this how death smelt like? He held up his hands in front of his face, petrified of staying here for all eternity. His hands were practically shaking-

Wait, how could he see his hands? He was supposed to be in total darkness. He craned his head, his answer becoming evident. Ahead was a ray of light, and like an alchemist who's cracked the secret of the Philosopher's Stone, he scrambled for it. He reached out towards the light like a toddler, gritting his teeth at its intensity and at its brilliance.

Faintly, he could pick out the sounds of machinery, of a whissh sound that seemed to emanate from the light.

He finally reached it, covering his eyes… before he regained focus. He found that he was in an alleyway before, which explained the darkness and the smell. He was grateful that he wasn't in death, or some other place related to hell, but curiosity held him in a grip. If not hell, then where was he?

He panned his gaze towards his surroundings, and stopped. His mouth was agape, his hands stopped shaking, his eyes were so wide you could put golf-balls in them. It wasn't his fault, it was the sight in front of him that made him this… this… taken aback…

I'm not in Amestris anymore. That thought struck him across the face. I'm not in Amestris anymore.

Around him, was the metropolitan city of Vale, sprawling buildings as far as the naked eye could reach, skyscrapers with honed tips that gleamed in the sunlight, vehicles that floated in the air, and home to many aspiring Huntsmen and Huntresses… and now, apparently, one alchemist.

Oh god, he thought, anxiety and terror bubbling within his gut like some god-awful concoction. Where am I?

He stumbled around, seemingly in a daze. Of course he was, how could he not? He wasn't anywhere near home, or Amestris for example. There weren't any futuristic vehicles that floated in the sky when he was there!

An unsettling thought began to take over his head, Am I slowly going insane? Truth said he was going to take away my family. Is this the result of that? Am in a parallel universe?

No, no, Truth wasn't all about changing things. He was a being that exacted order. He wouldn't just make a decision that would create another timeline. So then, what was it?

His head was already spilling its seams at the thought of this. Multiple universes, alternate timelines – what did those two have to do anything?

He leaned his hand against a building, steadying himself. What he didn't know, was that people around him were giving him queer looks and straying as far away from the 'suspected' drunken fellow as possible.

Quick! Did Truth say anything that might reveal anything?

Not much, as he recalled. He just remembered his face, and then… nothing.

Nothing except for an endless stream of information being poured into his head. But other than that, nothing.

Wait, endless stream of information?

Yes, yes… slowly, his mind began to feed him tidbits of information, information on alchemy. Before, he understood about as much about alchemy as the next guy, but now… he might become a State Alchemist. Might. If he reached home.

"Bye mom! I'm off to Beacon!" He heard someone call out, and a perky young lad stepped out into the sun, wielding a large serrated blade, not nearly the size of the boy. He might've ignored the boy, had he not said something that stopped Chris for a moment.

Beacon? I think… I've heard that name before… I don't know where though.

A large transport ship, all gleaming metal with rudder fins, floated down from the sky inches away from the boy. Wherever that boy was going, he was going to Beacon.

Head to Beacon…

There, that voice again. He didn't notice it the first time, but now he did. Beacon was somehow important to his… to his situation.

The boy stepped into the transport ship, only a few steps away before the transport ship would leave, and the mystery of Beacon and his whereabouts forgotten.

Only a few seconds, Chris, tick tock, tick tock.

He chewed on the inside of his lip, a bead of sweat running down his head.

Do you want to listen to the voice in your head, or do you want to remain in this place?

Come on Chris!

Tick-

The clock is ticking!

-tock.

Tick-

His legs started moving off their own accord, chasing after the airship as he called out, "Wait, hold on!"

-tock.