A mob was gathered in the main square; they all glared, pointed, whispered. There were some that even dared to snicker. At their front, the head monk with a family at his side. They seemed despondent, faces contorted with deep concern, confusion, mixed with resolve.

"Samuel Ingrell. You have been found to partake in the blasphemous act of changing Ishivala's design, desecrating it and forming it to your own will. Do you admit to it?"

"Yeah, I admit," grumbled the accused man. He paid little thought to the crowd around him. He knew all too well what its purpose was. He was to be shamed, made an example of. Yet he will not allow them to do so. He stood in front of the head monk with his back straight, meeting his gaze with a scowl of his own and righteous indignation. "If you disavow the practice now, you may yet have room here-" "I will not!" Samuel interrupted, "What is there to disavow? To change Ishivala's designs? Do you not wear fabrics? Do you not live in houses made of stone and brick? Bunch of hypocrites! Throw me out! Exile me! As if I'd want to live here anyway!"

"Brother," a woman pleaded, stepped forward, but was halted by her husband holding his hand in front of her. "Don't," he said silently, "We protected him long enough. You are just hurting the baby by getting upset."

The monk shook his head in resignation; nothing he said will change the stubborn man. He didn't expect it to. This trial was a long foregone inevitability, simply a formality. The knowledge of Samuel's sacrilegious acts had long been an open secret, but it seemed he only grew bolder with age. His research notes could yet be ignored, but once he performed alchemy near a temple, it was an act too brazen to ignore. However, what the monk did not expect was for there to be two people. He softened his gaze as he looked at the little girl next to Samuel. "My child, you're still young. Ishivala forgives naiveté, but you have to do what's right and renounce this act."

The girl looked at her family besides the monk; her brother and sister were strangely quiet for once, her father nodding along with lecture and her mother, the woman who just tried to step forward, staring at her with a half-smile and pleading eyes. She just had to say she'll never do it again and it would be forgiven. She'd go back to living her normal life again, just without her uncle. She glanced up at Samuel. Even he seemed to expect her to do as the monk said. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, as if to say, "It's been fun, kid, but this is as far as we can go."

The girl searched her memory. Everyone was saying her uncle was a bad person, but where was evidence of that? She filtered through the many times her uncle would, by her own request, read her those difficult books, and would make little dolls for her. Just recently, he was showing her how she can do it herself, how to draw those strange circles. He told her, no, showed her how the world works, taught her to feel matter around her. What part of that was bad? What part of that was any different than the monks that preached in the temples?

She pursed her lips.

"I won't" she stubbornly grabbed Samuel's hand, turning away from the crowd, "Uncle Sam did nothing wrong! You're just being mean!"

The mob was stunned into silence before erupting into outrage mumbles.

"Rotten, wrong…"

In shock, Samuel knelt, "What are you doing? I'll be fine, just go back to your mother." She shook her head, "No, you did nothing bad! Alchemy isn't bad! I don't want to lie and say it's bad!" Tears started to drip.

"Sinner, heretic…"

"You're just a kid, what do you know!"

"It's not bad! It's not!" she insisted.

"Blasphemer, blasphemer, blasphemer!"

"Silence!" the monk's voice cut through the voice and the square was still again. He looked at the child again, shaking his head. The seeds of corruption ran too deep. Without her own will, he could do nothing to save her. "It gives me no pleasure to say this, but if we bend our iron will, even if it is for a child, it will never straighten again! Those who would stand against Ishivala are to be cast out and exiled. You have until the end of the day to leave the town and never to return! This is all!"

As the monk's heavy footsteps started to echo, the crowd started to disperse as well, still whispering. "Blasphemer," they repeated over and over. She didn't want to hear it. She barely understood what it meant, but she understood hate in it; it dripped from their moths like venom from a snake's fangs. She covered her ears. No, she wasn't bad! She knew she wasn't! Yet they hissed at her like vipers.

Only as the voices grew dim did she dare to lower her hands and look back up again . Her uncle was still knelt besidse her, his hand on her shoulder. The only other person still left in the square never moved from her spot, still clenching her swollen belly: her mother. Her dark eyes seemed glassy, unfocused; she stared at the girl, yet it was as if she were staring through her. The girl's heart suddenly ached, her resolve wavered. Maybe she made a mistake. Now, she wanted to take it back, she wanted to run to her mother's arms, say sorry and be forgiven like so many times before. She stood up, taking a step towards her, but her mother stepped back. A word fell from her lips, bitter as the tears on her cheeks: Blasphemer. She turned and left.

"Renee, you're supposed to go fetch the milk down the road!" Samuel yelled from the kitchen window. Renee looked up from the thick book she held in her hand, sitting on a little bench under the oak tree. The sun was peeking through the lazy clouds, the summer air was warm with the smell of wheat and freshly cut grass. "I just want to finish this-" "You said that half an hour ago. At this rate the lunch will be breakfast!" he yelled back, "if you don't, I'll have you do twice the training in the afternoon." That was warning enough for her to put the book down and grab the small basket near her feet, hurrying down the dusty country road. She was still sore from the training drills he made her do yesterday!

Before her uncle found his passion for alchemy in an old tome given to him by a visiting Amestrisan, he was half-way towards becoming a monk himself. A path of a foolish youth, as he called it now, but it hardened his body and senses, making him a capable opponent while they still got by on the streets of East City. Thankfully, when moving to the countryside, alchemy was enough to get him some work repairing farming equipment and other household items and heirlooms. With the money and some labor, it was enough for them to convince an old farmer to give them a small shed space on his farm, which they quickly turned into a small cottage. There was no running water, or electricity, but Samuel always insisted it is the hardships that make Ishivalans.

"Funny," she thought to herself as she walked towards the town center, "even after renouncing pretty much everyone, he still holds onto those little sayings." She rubbed her sore shoulder and she let out a despaired moan, "But why does it have to be the ones about physical endurance?"

As she ascended the small hill, the image of the flat plains emerged in front of her. The golden fields stretched out in front of her, surrounding the small town in the middle. Far on the horizon, she could see the tall buildings of East City, frightening, yet full of promise. The landscape couldn't have been more different from her desert home she left behind. It was a bittersweet feeling, but Renee tried not to despair. She still had her uncle and here they were free to learn and research as much as they wanted. Perhaps when she learns enough, when she herself becomes a great alchemist in a big city, she can return home. If Ishivala created the world, surely he gave us alchemy so we can understand it too. Surely, one day, she can make them see that…

The wind blew from the east and with it came a strange chill, climbing under Renee's shirt. Thinking it was the first sign of autumn, she quickly brushed it off and continued on her way. She did not know that somewhere, an Ishivalan child fell to the ground, shot dead.

WN: Hello, everyone. Thanks for reading the first chapter. It's been a while since I dabbled in the FMA fandom and generally the first time uploading any of it on Fanfiction. The story will generally be following brotherhood, with some potential stuff from the 2003 anime if I think it has more detail.

As you can see, the whole story will be a kind of alternative universe with my OC, although I will try keeping her story relatively non-invasive. It's also gonna be a bit slow till we get to properly named characters since I want to try and fully characterize my OC, so hopefully it won't get too tiresome.

Envy here goes by male pronouns as that is how I personally read the character (uses the extremely masculine 'ore' to refer to himself, generally uses male disguises if he doesn't need to be a specific person, generally a pretty masculine appearance).

Anyway, hopefully see you for the next one.