So… how 'bout these updates? Told you people I wasn't going to be on any sort of schedule. Hoping none of you hate me right now. I have a very good excuse, though.
Life.
No, seriously. Track is a major time-suck and my various school-related projects have diverted my attention. I know I shouldn't be blaming it all on other stuff, though. I did maybe procrastinate just a little bit.
This is a less suspenseful chapter. More of a transition into the canon timeline. Lhurgoyf was killing me over how my original chapter 3 was way shorter, so here's a longer chapter, kind of my burst of creativity for the week. And with that…
On with the story!
When Edward woke up, it was dark. Everywhere. He was sitting in a black room, where the only thing he could see was himself. What he wouldn't give for a light right now…
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the darkness leapt back. The room holding him was bare, with no furnishings or decoration. The walls, floor and ceiling were all perfectly smooth, without an imperfection anywhere. And on the wall facing him was a window. It was a single sheet of glass, starting off wide at the base, then tapering into a pointed arch at the top. Outside was dark, showing nothing more than what looked like the inside of a cave, with a bolted and barred door on the far end.
"Yes, yes. Very interesting. Now how about we get out of here, and get on with the whole 'imbalance' thing Truth wanted us to fix, hm?"
Despite how annoying it was to admit, Pride was right. But as Ed examined the window, he found no evidence of a latch or handle. It seemed to be one solid piece, fused seamlessly into the material of the wall. How was he going to get out if he couldn't open the-
"Do I seriously have to do the thinking for both of us? You're supposed to be smart, so figure this one out. Metal arm. Metal leg. GLASS barrier."
Ed was about to retort angrily when he realized the point Pride was trying to make. Feeling stupid, he backed up, and took a good look at the window. Then, gathering himself, he charged forwards, springing into what would have been a glorious leap through a spray of shattered glass.
That is, if he hadn't bounced off with a dull thunk, landing on his back, and wondering what happened. Not to be discouraged, Ed got up again, standing in front of the obviously strong window, examining where he guessed he had struck. The glass was as flawless as before. He took a half step back, and then swung his automail fist forwards, throwing his entire weight into the punch.
Clang!
Aside from a ringing hand and what looked to be a dented index joint, nothing changed. No marks on the glass, no progress. Edward frowned. It was obviously something more than just a window. In the back of his head, he wondered how he'd gotten in this room in the first place, with no visible entry. He had only one resort now, and he didn't need some stupid Homunculus to remind him. For the third time, he stepped forwards. Ed clapped his hands, circle formed in his mind, and slammed them against the barrier. And proceeded to get nothing. No alchemic feedback whatsoever. It was as if the window, which he had proven without a doubt existed, just wasn't there. Or if it was, it wasn't made of anything.
It was, in a word, impossible.
The next two hours (by Edward's estimate. There was no actual way to measure the time) were spent examining every inch of the room. An alchemic breakdown was attempted on every square foot of surface, even the ceiling. That took some impressive acrobatics, but he managed it. And for all his efforts, he received the same response as with the damn window. Nothing.
Edward was starting to question his own sanity. How could he be trapped in a room made of nothing? It was physically impossible! And how had he not suffocated yet? There were no gaps in the walls, and he was sure he'd used up the oxygen that could've been in the room long ago. Defeated, he sat down on the floor. Pride chose this moment to speak up again.
"Well, as entertaining as that was, what are you going to do now?"
"Shut up. We're trapped in an unbreakable nonexistent box. There's nothing I can do until someone lets me out. Which I doubt will happen, given your little display."
"Oh, so now it's my fault we're in here?" Pride actually sounded offended. "I was defending us. That moron attacked us, and so I retaliated. Simple as that."
Ed decided it was better to quit. Pride wasn't going to concede anything (even though it was totally his fault) and he didn't feel like arguing. He was just so bored, though. If only he had something to read-
And just like with the light, as soon as the thought formed, he was sitting in a library. It looked suspiciously like Central's branch, if not for the fact that instead of the front door, there was just the same goddamn mirror.
"Whoa. Did you just make that happen? Because that was cool. Wish for some money next. Or some girls. We could use some company…" Pride trailed off suggestively.
"Don't be stupid." Ed snapped. "There's no way the room's responding to what I want, telepathy's impossible. And what would we even do with money? We're trapped in a box."
"It's the principle of the thing. Wouldn't you rather be trapped in a room with a pile of gold than trapped with no pile of gold?"
Ed opened his mouth to respond. And then closed it again. That was actually a really good point.
"I wish for a large pile of gold."
Said pile sprang into existence, crushing the table it appeared on under its weight. Ed grinned as his mood instantly improved. Large piles of gold were obviously highly therapeutic. And fun to look at.
"I also wish for new clothes, or my old ones to be cleaned. And for my automail to be repaired."
All of these things happened. Then, as Ed was admiring how nice his new trench coat was, another idea came to him. It was so simple he almost could have laughed.
"I wish for Pride to be removed from me, to be created into a separate entity."
He closed his eyes and braced for… something to happen. Honestly, he had no idea what to expect. After a minute, he cracked open an eyelid. And then Pride pointed out the obvious.
"I don't think that one worked," he said in a deadpan tone. Of course. Because it couldn't be that easy.
Ed shrugged.
"Was worth a shot," he replied. "At least now we know there are limits, which means there are rules. Any other things we want?"
Pride was quick to respond.
"How about a way out? Would be nice."
Ed voiced the sentiment to the room. Nothing. He sighed. Well, that confirmed one thing. He was in a prison. A really cool, wish-within-reason-granting prison, but still a prison. He turned towards the books. At least there was always research.
It had been years since he'd first woken up in this room. (At least it felt that way. He had no way of tracking time, and he didn't even have a sleep cycle anymore. Homunculi, he'd found, didn't sleep.) In some ways, he'd made lots of progress. He and Pride had come to a mutual agreement, which hopefully would keep the Homunculus in his mind unless it felt like it needed to come out. He'd fully discovered the mysterious properties of his cage (What else could he call it?). Food was not available (good thing he didn't need to eat) and neither, much to Pride's disappointment, were girls. Living things in general weren't possible, but he could get animated mannequins to spar with. He couldn't demand anything unreasonable like a way out or a portal back home or a way to communicate with Al. He'd have killed for that last one, didn't even have to be his brother. What he'd give for even an argument with the Colonel…
Best not to sink to those depths.
But he was so bored. Practically nobody ever came to look at him, and those who did obviously saw something else. His room had been moved several times (he had no clue how, it was goddamn enormous) but it always ended up with the same scenery. Staring out the sole window at a dull, blank, usually stone wall.
There was nothing to do. At all. He couldn't practice alchemy, as everything the room produced was made of nothing, and therefore untransmutable. They looked like books, they felt like practice dummies, and he'd been repeatedly reminded that the walls were very solid, but none of it was real. It was all an illusion. He had no idea how such an effect was produced, but it was there, and that was what mattered in the end.
His boredom was such that he would give almost anything to be let out. Pride took great pleasure in comparing him to a genie, and he couldn't deny the parallels. But as the time wore on, he never forgot that he was here for a reason.
Fix the imbalance.
Whatever that was.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, owner of far too many honorary and cumbersome titles, looked down at the innocent red stone he held in his palm. According to Nicolas, the Stone would be useless to anybody but a master alchemist, but neither of them were willing to place all their money on that particular wager.
Especially when the lives of so many were on the line.
So Albus had come to his long-time associate and asked to hide it. After all, who would suspect anyone of putting such a dangerous artifact in a school of all places? Dumbledore smiled grimly. The trap would be set, and the bait was irresistible. All there was left to do was hide it away.
A few taps, a muttered and by now memorized spell, and the arguably most powerful magical artifact to be created in the last five centuries was stowed inside a heavily enchanted mirror.
Caught up in the cleverness of his own plan, Albus failed to remember several things, the most important of which was staring at the retreating wizard's back through a one-sided mirror.
It was Pride who spoke up first.
"Was it just me, or did he just drop a Stone through the glass?"
Ed blinked twice, then did a mental face-palm.
"We could have broken out! Right then! The glass was gone, and the only one around was the grandpa! I WAS ALMOST FREE!" He ended his escalating outburst with a shattering punch at a conveniently appearing dummy, whose face was reduced to splinters.
Pride, however, was less emotional.
"There was a chance, we missed it. I have no doubt there'll be others. Right now, let's focus on the Philosopher's Stone that seems to have been thrown in here with us."
Finding Pride's argument to be sound, Edward calmed down. If the interminable wait had taught Edward nothing else, it was patience. He took a step forwards and picked up the innocent red gem. No doubt about it. This was the real thing. The only question was, what was he going to do with it?
"Eat it, of course." The matter-of-fact way Pride had spoken would have sounded better fitting if he had been holding an apple, and not the most alchemically powerful object in the world. Needless to say, Edward had a few objections.
"EAT IT?" he repeated, shocked. "Those are people's souls! I can't just-"
Pride cut him off.
"Look, souls or not, they're stuck in there. Permanently. Now, there are two ways they can spend the rest of eternity. Either they can continue to be stuck in the little rock, or they can be stuck in us, and actually be doing something useful, like keeping us alive. Face it. You can't save them, and they're more use to us if you eat the damn thing than if you keep angsting about those stupid morals things."
Yet again, Edward was struck speechless. From a completely heartless, calculating point of view, Pride actually made sense. And there really was no way to save the souls. He shrugged. Apparently, spending an extended amount of time in solitary with a psychopathic second personality had an impact on him. Who would've guessed?
He opened his mouth and popped the stone inside. It tasted surprisingly good, like some sort of delicious candy. As soon as he swallowed the thing, he felt an enormous rush of energy. It was comparable to the time Havoc had given him a concentrated espresso, in double the normal dosage. He'd torn the office apart working off his energy, but it had felt freaking amazing while it had lasted.
"Hm... This is new." Pride sounded puzzled.
Ed frowned.
"What? I ate the damn stone just like you wanted. Now you're saying something's wrong?"
"No, not wrong at all. Pretty good, from your standpoint. It'll appease that thing you call a conscience to know that somehow, there were no souls in that Stone. Just pure energy."
Ed's eyebrows furrowed.
"That can't be right. The souls are essential to keep the energy in the Stone bonded. Without them, it doesn't stay together and the whole thing goes up. It was in Marcoh's notes." He started to pace, a habit he'd picked up during his time in confinement.
"The only way that the Stone can be kept stable is with the souls, and since it had no souls, that means someone found a substitute to bind the energy…" He trailed off as he realized what that meant. The Stone could be created without mass sacrifice, which meant it was probably not a secret here. Everyone and their dog probably had their hands on one.
"Explains several things, including the lack of Equivalency. I bet that they just stored their Stones in those sticks of theirs, and use that like some kind of long-range alchemy."
He frowned. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.
It wasn't long before the old man returned. Ed leapt up, standing just next to the window, out of sight. Ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. After a few minutes of nothing, he chanced a peek outside. They were moving. Down a hallway, up a staircase, past a few portraits (were they moving?) and suits of armor that looked decidedly less intimidating than Al, and his prison was in another room. A classroom.
Dear Truth, was he in a school?
The old man, his job finished, sat down in a corner of the room, tapped his forehead with his stick, and promptly vanished. Edward, long used to such tricks, was unfazed. He'd seen weirder than that, by some truly desperate men who'd seen something when they looked into his prison that obviously wasn't him.
A few hours later, and someone else appeared in the room. A boy, who didn't look older than nine. A very scrawny nine year old at that. He mouthed two words that, even though Ed couldn't hear, struck him to his core. Asking for his parents. Combined with the reverent, almost euphoric expression on his face, Edward wondered if the kid missed his home that much.
"Or maybe he just doesn't have one." Pride's unusually deep comment was a little shocking. That could be the case, after all. The boy turned, obviously startled by something outside the room, before looking back for one last glimpse. A few words that were obviously a promise to return, and he disappeared again. The old man reappeared a minute later, with a look mingling between regret and satisfaction, and left in a hurry.
Well. That was weird.
The routine was performed the next night, too. The old man came in, and promptly hid himself. Why he didn't have something better to do than watch little boys was beyond both Pride and his host. The boy appeared again, just like last night.
No, he'd brought someone with him. A gangly redhead who stood back as the smaller child rapidly spoke to him, pointing repeatedly at Ed's window. Obviously ginger didn't get the point, as he furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. Scrawny took a step back, motioning for Ginger to step in front. And suddenly, the boy's face changed, looking similar to all those Ed had watched before. His eyes held awe, and no small trace of greed as he slowly spoke to his friend. Apparently unsatisfied, Scrawny tried to take his place back in front of Ed, but ginger pushed back. This probably would have devolved into an embarrassing and undignified catfight had they not been startled by something in the hallway, as with last night. Gathering something up off the ground, they threw it over themselves, and vanished.
And again, as with last night, the old man reappeared, looking satisfied as he made his way out of the classroom.
The third night was different. Edward could tell. For one, the old man didn't bother vanishing. He sat comfortably in one of the various desks around the room, obviously waiting for Scrawny and Ginger. And sure enough, the former showed up, minus one carrot top. Hm.
As the boy began to gaze at the window, the old man spoke up behind him. Ed got a great laugh out of the look of sheer panic on his face as he spun around. It was classic, and his standards for entertainment had slipped as his boredom had risen. After a brief conversation, in which creepy old stalker man seemed to play the generous grandfather, Scrawny was sent back to bed. Then, the old man, for the first time since Ed had seen him, looked directly into the glass. Edward knew nobody saw him, but it was unnerving, the way the man gazed almost right at him. And then he noticed the strangest part about the whole scenario. Unlike the greed or awe of all the other viewers Ed had encountered, this man was different.
He was crying.
And so the plot actually begins! I know it was kinda predictable (who am I kidding, everyone knew it from the moment they saw 'Mirror of Erised') but hey, new chapter! As for how the mechanics of the Mirror- I figured that being stuck inside a mirror that showed you whatever you wanted would have the same effects as being in the Room of Requirement. It makes sense if you squint real hard and have brainstorming sessions at 9 pm. Nobody can see Ed because their deepest desire isn't to retrieve a Homunculus from the Mirror (see chapter 2).
In response to your reviews:
No, I can't see Truth sending anyone else. Yet. Haven't made up my mind either way, but I'm not sending a ton of friends over to Harry Potter world. It just doesn't work in my mind. If anybody made it over, it would be Mustang. Or Alphonse. But seriously. Who else would have the alchemic know-how and the drive to get Edward back?
I really got poked up out of my procrastination by reviews asking me to update soon. Yes. To all of you out there who doubt that your reviews are read, I look at ALL of them. And take them to heart. I'm kind of attached to my writing like that. That little vindication given, goodbye until next time!
-Ambiguity