Old Kingdom series (c) Garth Nix

Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

A/N: It's probably better to know both of these universes. I, er, shot them both through a particle accelerator and they ended up smashed together with no hope of separation. It's not 100% canon in either universe. Suspension-of-disbelief generators, activate!

Through the storm, a drenched figure approached a dark house on a hill. It watched the open door creak in the wind for a moment before stepping out of the downpour. After pausing in the entryway, it disappeared down a hallway.

Minutes later, the figure reappeared at the door, moving swiftly out of the house and around the corner to a pile of recently-overturned earth. It circled the mud, tracing patterns in the air with a pale hand before turning to hasten down the path.

Pinako Rockbell sank into a kitchen chair with a groan. Twenty hours was a long time to be awake for anyone, let alone someone her age. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep off the last six, hellish hours. She convinced Winry to go to bed around midnight but she knew the girl was most likely lying awake, listening for any sound from the boys. The boys…

A loud knock startled Pinako out of her thoughts and she frowned at the front door. The three locks were firmly in place and she considered ignoring the summons. She wanted no more surprises tonight. But it wasn't uncommon for guests in the village to become lost using the dirt roads in the dark, never-mind such a ferocious storm. The sooner she directed this visitor back to the center of town, the sooner she could get to bed, Pinako thought as she eased out of the chair and reached the door. She clicked the locks out and slowly opened the door. The light streamed out but failed to illuminate the dark-cloaked stranger on the porch.

"Can I help you?" she said, reasonably suspicious of nighttime visitors. The stranger nodded and in a low voice said,

"I'm looking for Edward and Alphonse Elric."

Pinako scowled briefly. "They're not up for visitors. And it's the middle of the night." She moved to close the door when a pale hand shot out to keep it open. Eyes narrowed behind thick lenses and glared at the shadowed hood, from where a voice spoke hurriedly.

"I am aware of the hour, and I'm sorry to bother you. But I have come from the house on the hill, and time unfortunately is not something I have to spare. Please allow me to see the boys, Mrs. Rockbell."

More wary than ever, the mechanic stood her ground.

"Who are you?"

The stranger moved into the light shining from the house and pushed the hood back slightly to reveal a woman with a ghostly-white face framed by damp night-dark hair. She reached into the folds of her cloak and said,

"My name is Sabriel. I was Trisha's schoolmate at the Academy. If it means anything to you, I am Abhorsen." She held out a worn letter addressed at such a person, postmarked in Resembool, written in a hand Pinako hadn't seen in years.

The old woman's eyes widened behind her glasses.

"The Abhorsen? From Ancelstierre?" Sabriel nodded and Pinako felt a rush of hope as she recalled conversations with Trisha and Sara from their time at the Academy. Abhorsen. Not quite a necromancer, and certainly not an alchemist, but perhaps someone who could still understand what the boys had done.

She opened the door to usher Sabriel inside.

The woman removed a dripping overcoat and hung it on the rack beside the door. She dropped a traveling bag on the floor before firmly shaking the mechanic's hand.

"Let me get you something hot to drink," Pinako said as she let go and moved toward the kitchen.

Sabriel stopped her. "My apologies, Mrs. Rockbell," she said, "but I need to take care of this business as soon as possible. Please tell me everything you know about what happened at the Elric house this evening."

Pinako sighed. "I don't know how much Trisha told you, but Hoenhiem's been gone for almost eight years. Left on some fool-hardy mission to do God knows what." She sighed again. "Trisha's been dead for almost six years. My own Urey and Sara died not many years after, killed in the war to the east. The boys… the boys live alone in that big house, even after I tried to bring them here with Winry and I. I promised Trisha I would watch them, and I did what I could."

She told her visitor of the boys' apprenticeship and the slow climb out of their grief. Her voice shook recounting the previous night.

"A giant suit of armor, one of Hoenhiem's I imagine, was holding Edward, who was missing half his left leg and his entire right arm. The armor spoke in Al's voice and begged me to help Ed, said that they had done something terrible and made a mess of everything."

Pinako turned away for a moment, the horrific image of her surrogate grandsons burned into her mind. "The story I got out of Al was that they somehow tried to… bring back Trisha. I remember the stories Sara and Trisha used to tell living so close to the Wall at the Academy, stories of dead things walking the earth. I'm a simple doctor and mechanic. I don't understand alchemy or your Charter, but I do know what's gone is gone. And that everything has a price." She moved her gaze back to the pale woman. "What can you do for them?"

Sabriel hesitated. "I will certainly do what I can. Might I speak with the children?"

Pinako motioned to Sabriel to follow her. "You won't get anything out of Ed. He lost a lot of blood and had been in and out of unconsciousness all night. It was touch and go there for a while." The aged mechanic led her guest down the hall. "Al, or what's left of Al, hasn't left his side since I finished patching him up. After I saw sure Ed wasn't going to bleed out while I was gone, I… went to the house."

"What did you see?" Sabriel prompted. The old woman frowned.

"I don't know. It had the right body parts of a human but, it was like someone tried to assemble a piece of furniture without instructions."

When Sabriel asked what the older woman had done with the body, Pinako's face darkened. "Buried it. Didn't want to leave it in that house. Dragged it around to the side, dug a quick grave, said a prayer and rushed home."

She paused outside a closed door, "I don't want to tell you how to do your job, Abhorsen, but these boys were hurting. Their mother was their world. They really felt they were doing the right thing."

Sabriel bowed her head. "I know what it is like to lose a parent, and I understand how tempting it is to try to call a soul back." She placed a hand on Pinako's shoulder. "There is never an easy way to meet death."

"No," the mechanic agreed. "Do what you need to, but please, just remember."

"Alphonse?" Pinako said as she opened the door, "This is Ms. Sabriel. She's come to make sure you're... okay. Please let her look at you."

"Grannie?" came a high voice from the dark hall, "who is that?"

Pinako moved towards the voice and shepherded her granddaughter back into her room.

"She's here to help Ed and Al," the mechanic explained as Sabriel ducked into the boys' room.

The bedside lamp sputtered as the storm raged outside. The erratic light flickered off a set of armor seated on the right bed. The left bed was occupied by a small body swathed in bandages.

The woman sighed. The boy was young, too young. To tread into Death so early, with no training or idea what waited there… they were lucky.

Trisha Elric had been her senior at the Academy, and a sweeter soul than any she had met so far. She had never met Hoenhiem, nor their children, but the few letters she received between Trisha's graduation and her death painted a happy, loving family. The final letter from her friend mentioned that Hoenhiem had left Resembool to conduct some kind of alchemic research, and how pleased Trisha was that Ed and Al showed an affinity for the craft. There had been no more letters until last year.

An envelope, faded and worn, addressed to "Terciel, Abhorsen, Ancelstierre, Old Kingdom, Across the Wall," written in the round, shaky hand of a child, made its way to her. The letter contained a plea for any information on the whereabouts of Van Hoenhiem, known alchemist and husband of Trisha Elric, who was sick and didn't seem to be getting better. It was signed by Edward and Alphonse Elric, and dated almost five years earlier.

She'd written back immediately, apologizing for the delayed reply and regretting to say that Terciel had been dead for over a decade and she had not seen Hoenhiem mentioned in her father's notes or letters. She wondered how old this Hoenhiem was to have correspondence with her father. Strangely, her husband recalled the name from before his centuries-long sleep, but could not explain the significance of that knowledge. Despite wanting to embark on an immediate visitation, Sabriel could not pull herself away from her Abhorsen duties, to say nothing of trying to get a decrepit kingdom to run smoothly again. Less than two weeks ago, she'd finally been satisfied with progress enough to leave her family and realm to travel south across the Wall, and then southeast to cross the border into Amestris. The train had taken her further east to Resembool and she alighted hours ago to sense something was very wrong.

"We're sorry."

Bodies without souls were a simple matter. Souls without bodies were more complicated. And unpredictable. She needed to assess, without having been previously introduced to the boy, if his soul had survived the bonding, and if it didn't...

Though only 32 years, she felt twice her age.

"And what are you sorry for, Alphonse?" she asked and turned to face him.

The gloved hands clenched, despite no fingers to occupy them, and the metal shoulders shook, despite no flesh inside.

"For doing something we shouldn't have," came the reply. It was odd, hearing a child's voice ring hollow inside the intimidating suit. "We knew it was wrong, but we just, we just…" The helmet tilted toward her. "I… we're sorry," he said again, and went silent. She sat down next to him.

"My name is Sabriel, Alphonse, and whatever you may think, I am not here to punish you," she said gently. The helmeted head swung back to her.

"You're not?" he asked incredulously. "But we –"

"I am aware of what you have done," she cut him off, "and I think you have learned your lesson well enough."

Al's frame shook and Sabriel laid a cold hand on his arm.

"Then, what are you here for?"

Sabriel avoided the question, and spoke softly to the fearful boy trapped in an iron suit.

"I am here to make sure your… experience did not damage your soul. I know it is difficult, but tell me what happened. Start at the very beginning."

Al did, with many starts and stops, what they had learned from their father's old books and the little they pulled out of their teacher. Their naive plan to gather the precise ingredients for an adult female human, adding a bit of themselves. The symbols and signs they invented to shape a long-gone body and call back a long-gone soul.

"We thought it was perfect, we thought of everything," Al whispered, "but when we started, everything went wrong. The circle opened. I thought I was coming apart. It felt like I was being dragged somewhere cold and dark, I don't remember anything else."

Al's head drooped lower. "I – that is, my soul, I guess – hadn't gone far. Ed just reached in and pulled me out and put me in here…" Huge hands come up to pull off the helmet. It was disconcerting to see an empty suit, but the mark inscribed on the back drew Sabriel closer.

Written in his brother's blood, there was a circle, a ten-pointed star, and a flame. A mark for life, for binding, for sacrifice. She reached for the symbol and upon gently touching it, felt a brush of the Charter. Faint, but pure and uncorrupted. The panic that drove her rushed flight from the empty house left her body in a shaky breath. Alphonse was fine.

No, he wasn't fine. His body was gone, spirited away to an unknown place and she had no idea how to access it. But the part that made him Alphonse was there. The sweet, gentle little boy her friend wrote loving pages about was there.

Al's voice continued, "I… woke up, and Brother was lying there… and in the circle was… was…"

"I know this is hard, Al, but what was in the circle?" Sabriel asked.

Metal scraped as he fit the helm back into place. "I don't know... something... it wasn't moving, but it looked, but it wasn't, it couldn't have been..." the small voice trailed off.

"Al, how long has your mother been dead?" It was a harsh question, and she knew the answer, but she needed him to understand.

"Six years," he whispered.

"And despite dying young, did she live a happy life?"

"I think so."

"Was she the type of person to hold grudges or seek revenge?"

"No!" the response was firm this time. "She was sweet and kind and loved everybody."

Sabriel grasped the jutting chin of the helm and turned it towards her. An echo of life sat where eyes should be, desperate to be reassured.

"Then she is gone, Alphonse," she said softly, "Long past the Final Gate, and nothing you, or Edward, did could have called her back. Everyone and everything has a time to die. And it was Trisha's time."

She let go but the empty eyes continued to stare at her.

"I do not believe I need to tell you not to try this again. I have seen others ask for less and have far more taken from them. A soul is not something you can bargain for, no matter what you offer in return. You were lucky." Lucky that Edward knew just the right symbols. Lucky that Alphonse shone bright and warm enough to survive being ripped from his body. Lucky that nothing in Death pulled them further down the River.

"Your Mark is strong. As long as it remains, you will too." A half-truth; even the strongest Mark would fade over time, and the act of binding something living to something inanimate always damaged one or the other. But she was not in habit of frightening traumatized, young children. Not when they spoke to her in the same wavering voice she often heard from her son. "But be careful. Remember Al, you are still human, and therefore mortal."

"Am I human?" he whispered.

"Are you sad you failed?"

"Yes, and no."

"Are you angry at yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you glad you survived?"

"Yes."

"Then you are still human."

Sabriel stood smoothly and Al leapt, less gracefully, to his feet beside her. She moved to Ed's side and brushed a finger against his forehead. He bore no baptismal Charter mark, but she sensed no Free magic clinging to him. The eager, stubborn boy her friend had been so proud of had survived. Not intact, but alive. She breathed a sigh of relief and pursed her lips, whistling a soft, high note. She watched the boy's features relax and his breathing deepen.

"Your brother should rest a little easier now," she said, as she noticed the way Al grasped his hands together, his massive body hunched, shifting from one leg to the other. Still a child, she reaffirmed, yet he will have to grow up quickly if he is to take care of his brother.

Sabriel lightly touched the frightened boy's arm. "Be strong, Alphonse. You two survived what most people would not. Your brother is a strong alchemist, and you have a strong soul. Take this second chance." She moved around him and headed to the door.

"Wait, are you going?" The question sounded so much like Sam she turned to look at the boy directly.

"Yes," she replied, "I will take care of the situation at your house." Al flinched and clenched his shaking hands.

"Let me go with –"

"No, stay with your brother, in the home of people who love you. Stay with the living, and leave the dead to me." Al stood motionless as Sabriel walked to the door.

"Ms. Sabriel, who are you?"

She opened the door and looked over her shoulder at the broken brothers.

"I knew your mother, Alphonse. We were schoolgirls together. I came to pay my respects." She hesitated before adding the next part. "I was also one of the recipients of the letters you sent out years ago, looking for your father. He and my own father apparently had frequent correspondence before my father died. But I'm sorry; I don't know where Hoenhiem is."

'And I am Abhorsen. I make sure the dead do not walk in life.'

"Be strong," she repeated and left the Elric boys alone.

The storm still raged but Sabriel could have followed the stench of death with her eyes closed.

Her connection to the Charter was weak here, but there was something else. The Charter, alchemy, this country was sick. She could feel it; the lifeblood of the world was clogged.

She entered the house as a flash of lightning illuminated the foyer. It reeked, of physical pain and the worst of human emotions. Death clung to this place more than life now. There was steady trail of blood that led to the back of the house. A workshop, with papers littered among the pools of blood and the smeared remains of an alchemic transmutation circle.

The air was thick and foul here: something had been called screaming from Death, scared and in pain.

There, in the middle of the circle...

Deprived of their mother, their only caregiver and the light of their life, Edward and Alphonse had seen no other way. The sciences of Ancelstierre and Amestris were not her strong point, but Sabriel could tell they tried to create a vessel for the soul. Their innocence, combined with their brilliant minds, contrived a way to bring her back. But Death does not give back.

Al's account was full of holes; with the soul they wanted long out of reach, Sabriel grimly suspected the transmutation circle had grabbed the nearest soul and thrust it into the mess of barely-functioning organ and tissue. It may have also pulled some lesser souls still nearby, a mouse or bird, but the created body couldn't have taken more than a few agonizing breaths before expiring. Still, she had to be sure.

She was not an alchemist, and would not touch the circle or mess staining the floor. All she could do, she told herself, was to make sure there was nothing lingering directly on the other side that would be tempted back again.

Sabriel breathed deep before sinking into Death. As always, the River greeted her coldly. With practiced ease, she moved through the water, scanning the currents. Frantic splashing led her to the soul of a rabbit, unable to follow the flow due to a thin anchoring thread that led somewhere to the light behind her.

She pulled the thread out of the water and whistled a sharp note. The thread snapped in two before vanishing, and the splashing of the rabbit ceased as the soul was swept toward the First Gate. Listening carefully, Sabriel turned back toward the light when she heard nothing else unusual over the roar of the falls. She stepped over the border and briskly rubbed the frost off her exposed skin. The air had changed slightly and didn't sit so heavy on her senses, but an innate sense of wrongness prickled in the back of her mind.

Retracing her steps to the front of the house, she drew a few marks. They lingered in the air while she considered the situation. All deaths connected to the house were past. Nothing could be inadvertently summoned here without the will of competent alchemist. 'And the only ones in town will not try again.'

For now, in Resembool, there wasn't anything else she could do. Another of her friends taken too soon by Death, more children left orphaned. Pinako assured her that the boys' recovery would be her foremost priority, though she was at a loss as to how to help Alphonse. Sabriel told her she'd check through her own resources to find anything that may be useful. Surely the Abhorsen library would have something on souls bound to inanimate objects.

The mechanic had offered their couch for the night and Sabriel didn't plan to pass on the offer. A few hours of sleep to wait out the storm and she'd catch the next train home. She walked through the floating symbols toward the door and turned.

"Goodbye Trisha," she whispered to the empty house. As the marks for peace and cleansing settled into the wooden floor, she stepped back into the rain and closed the door behind her.

Wat, brain, how did this happen?
Well, I saw a prompt that said "write about two universes that you don't normally see together" and I had just read a FMA fic, and had talked to my coworker that day about Sabriel, and BAM! Gates and drawing symbols and bringing back the dead ran screaming through my brain. I stretched some key ideas here and glazed over stuff there, and I may have crossed the streams at some point, but here it is.

I know Charter magic doesn't work outside of the Old Kingdom, but hey, if there's one other place in the world that drawing circles would do miraculous things, it's Amestris.

This fic has been struggling along for almost two years now. The release of 'Clariel' finally kicked me enough to finish it. Forgive me, it's been a while since I've read/watched FMA and I think I might have mixed up some manga/FMA:B plot with some first anime plot. It all blends together!

I've come to realize I'm not great at endings. I apologize. -.-