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Chapter 2

The homunculus leaned out the window. Below him the streets were packed with more people than he'd ever seen in one place before, heavy carts creaking as their horses laboured through the human river. The air was hot and filled with loud voices as people tried to distinguish themselves from the mass.

He turned away and went to find Mother. Today was his day away from work, and Mother was always at home. The world, much to her irritation, still discouraged women, even female alchemists, from ambition, though she tried to make the best of her mind-numbing position. Maybe today they'd go to the library. Mother always enjoyed searching there for books of arcane knowledge.

"Mother?"

He thumped down the stairs and found her in the kitchen. Likely going to prepare lunch; it was her turn today. But instead, she stood facing the open dish cupboard as if she'd never seen it before.

He walked closer. Was there something wrong? "Mother?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Your father isn't going to come home today."

"What?"

She held up the paper that had been dangling from her left hand. "I found this in the cupboard. He must have know that I'd find it at this time of the day."

He spoke dumbly. "What...why?" Now, when they'd just started on their journey? The homunculus clenched his teeth, straightened his slumped back. "Does the letter say anything about his reasons?"

"I will read it to you."

"No! I want to read it myself." He choked down the urge to snatch it from Mother's hands.

She paused, just looking at him, then handed it out.

As he read, his fingers tightened to the paper, and he changed to his "vampire" form without realizing it.

Dear --,

I can't pretend any longer. We have done something horrific, and there is only one way to make it right again. I confess that I couldn't make myself exercise the means, and hope that you will have the courage to do it. But lately I have been feeling less convinced.

I don't ask for your forgiveness, or understanding, for I can't give you mine. I know that I was the first to propose the forbidden act, but I can't live as you do, thinking that if you just believe hard enough, nature will change to suit you.

You're growing worse in that --, and I don't want to be a part of it anymore. As long as the Stone lasts, I will remain alive. But I won't live with what you have become.

I once loved you, but I no longer can. I will still make one request: No matter what you feel towards me, tell him the truth of his existence. An lie can never be told often enough to become the truth.

Because of what you were to me, I leave you with half of the Stone. It's another expression of my weak will, I suppose.

For an instant, the Homunculi stood in that gargoyle tableau, fangs bared and claws clutching the paper. Then his expression drew down. "The truth."

Mother gently took the paper from his stiff hands. "You never read the book, did you?"

"...no." Ice was forming in him.

"And your memories of the time before you woke up in that room are vague, aren't they? Like a nightmare that has faded over time."

"...yes." Get to the point, he wanted to shout at Mother, but couldn't make himself.

"You are not our son reborn."

Unable to speak, he only listened.

"What we called you was true. You are a homunculus. But that actually doesn't mean rebirth: it means replacement. You are what is produced through the forbidden act of human transmutation. A desiccated, twisted being, who through the consumption of incomplete Philosopher's Stones is transformed into a likeness of the person intended to be brought back. They have some of their memories, but are also able to be paralyzed or hurt in the presence of the true person's remains.

"He has the gall to accuse me of being arrogant, when he was the one who wanted our son back the most. This was his desire." Mother lowered her head and gave a tight smile. "When he saw what had come from the process, he wanted to kill you. But I insisted you be kept alive until we knew everything. We kept you in our old basement, tying your jaw shut to muffle your screams. Without legs, you couldn't go anywhere, and fell in and out of consciousness besides. Soon it became necessary to leave our village in order to find more information; you came with us in a trunk.

"I searched and searched, and found books on many of the darker corners of alchemy, and eventually the book, and put together the pieces. We had to move several more times, but finally we found a remote place and made the stones to feed to you. Father insisted on being the one to give the stones, though he cringed back as he reached out to you.

"During your convalescence, we fought over what to do. He was the one who barricaded the door, after reading about the supernatural powers that homunculi can gain. I wanted to pretend that you were our child; there was no reason to make your life miserable.

"But there was also no way to get around the truth once it was mentioned. If not for him, we could have lived together forever."

And now it was all ruined. Destroyed. He should have been able to see it in his father's actions: the stares and averted looks, both with the same meaning, the slowness to return affection. But no, he had to block it out, focus in the new power, the new life. "He didn't think of me as his son, did he? Not once."

"It was one of the points he often brought up. I think that he was afraid of you."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"What good would it have done? I couldn't change his mind, and he couldn't change mine. I knew the tension would break, but I'd hoped that we could get the best we could out of the time that remained."

The homunculus glared. "You didn't keep me alive because you loved me. You just wanted to see what would happen."

"You can believe what you want to believe. That has always been your choice."

He sucked in air through his fangs. This was... "So what did he want you do to do? Kill me?"

"He was too much a coward to say anything outright, but that's obviously what he wanted."

He clenched his fists. "So what? Does he think that I'd throw myself off a cliff just because he thinks I'm an abomination? I'll tell him something: if I'm not human, it just means I'm better than human. I can think and feel and whatever anyone thinks you need a soul to do! It's his fault for throwing everything away!"

Mother remained still as sculpture. The homunculus growled and strode towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

She wasn't angry. She was perfectly calm, even after he'd deserted them, run out of some ridiculous sense of atonement. "I can go anywhere."

"So can your father. Are you going to let him go free?"

His answer was the door slamming.

On the street, the sounds of life had been twisted: it was all grating noise, scraping at his senses. A trio of women passed him by, and he could feel their gaze on him, hear one giggle when they had passed. He could turn around, change his hand into a sword, and cut all their heads off. Them too: the men haggling over fruit, the people calling and shouting and would they ever shut up.

What was the difference between himself and them? No one had any right to call him a travesty. Not Father, not whoever had wrote Mother's mouldering old book, not Mother herself. The law would have hated Father if he'd ran away from a son of his flesh, but now they would probably have taken his side instead.

The homunculus stopped walking. He had said that he could go anywhere, but was that really true? The existence of beings like him wasn't terribly well known, but people reacted badly to anything that was different.

He could hear the bellows and groans of the harbour. Likely father had taken a ship; his office was even near the docks, where he used his powers to help repair parts of the great hulks which could go all around the world. Everywhere.

Mother had known Father for far longer, and might have some idea of where he might hide. She knew other lives beyond the small village where he'd grown up. And he wanted, he wanted...to hurt.

Not just Father. They would all would want to slaughter him first, soon as they found out what he was. Father was right, in a way: the world wouldn't bend to his wishes. But he'd know in his heart that he was worthy--superior.

But this was only a matter of scientific curiosity to Mother. Could he go back to that, a rejection as sure as Father's? Yet there was something else going on in her mind. He had to find out what it was, and then decide if he wanted to stay with her. There was noting else tying them together, was there?

And then he couldn't do anything for a while, as the sadness finally came to drown him, driving his body towards the woods where he could get away. But only just to brood.

Mother did come, but not until sunset. He turned to her, then looked quickly away, before getting up and silently following her back to town.

---------------------------------------------------

"Not all homunculi will be as strong-willed as you," she said to him a few months later.

They had been living without speaking of certain matters, though he had itched for it; tonight was a rare face-to-face meeting between them. Between the firelight and her stillness, she might have been made of carved Stones herself.

She continued on. "The vast majority of people care deeply about what others think, and allow themselves to be influenced by that. Likewise, they hate what is unusual. If a homunculus hears enough about how they are false, paired with their natural aversion to human remains, they would start to believe it. Even if they know that they can think and feel, if a majority of humans say these sensations are worthless without a soul, they will believe it."

He shifted in his chair. At the moment, he had decided to fully resemble her son, rather than looking vampiric. "You're up to something, Mother, what is it?"

She turned to look at the fire. "I'm assuming you can guess what the Stone that your father left us was?"

"Yes. What about it?" He scowled.

"It will run out eventually. And some say that the Philosopher's Stone can do other things. It might make a homunculus human."

"Not. Interested."

"I know. But some would be, because of the very reasons I just stated. And don't be mistaken: there will be others like you out there. Sometimes selfishness can even override that natural fear of punishment. No matter how strongly a taboo is condemned, even with direct evidence to supplement the preaching, there will be people who try it if the possible reward is great enough, and they will hope that their attempt is the one that is blessed."

"You're not one for charity, are you? You just want the Stone to prolong your life."

"True. But will you tell them that?"

He laughed. "Now why would I do a thing like that?" Her plan would take a lot of lives, and a lot of lies. The second part was not important, and the first was speaking to something deep and dark inside him, which was growing as he allowed it to, from that day's brief flare of resentment. If he thought about it too much he might look away, but fortunately he could to keep such reservations held aside. Humans weren't in his league anyway.

"To create unity among the homunculi that we find or create, we will name them after the seven sins of a dead religion. Seven is a number of power in many cultures, and they would already believe they were sinful, when in fact they only possess the problems that all humans do."

"Uh-huh. And what would you call me?"

"I will call you Envy."

"Envy? Are you insane? What do I have to be jealous of?"

She laughed, a sound that made his nerves creep, if just for the show of emotion. "You're lying to yourself. The loss of the life you wanted still stings; it's what drives your rage. You still wish to have the stability, the family that humans do. You want to be somebody's child."

She was talking to him like that, when he could just stand up and disembowel her in an instant! Accusing him of weakness, of still clinging to his father's boot. Envy had froze in the midst of standing up to attack. But it was true, wasn't it? He sat slowly back down.

"Or you could say that most sins spring from Envy. In my story, you will be the first."

"Hmph." But he smirked. "The book will have to be destroyed. I will read it once before we destroy it. And there is something else that I've been considering for myself."

"And that is?"

"I won't look like him. Even this"--and Envy changed into his "vampire" form--"even this is just a black-and-white version. Someday I'm going to become something else, adopt a new default. This chapter will be closed."

"As you wish it," she replied with a courtesy he knew was mocking.

---------------------------------------------------

Envy read the book cover to crumbling cover, and smirked at the end, as he had several times throughout. Even with the missing parts, it was clear that the author had created a homunculus by accident, but tortured her intentionally, trying to discover the secrets of his creation after the consumption of stones had restored her shape. The ordeal had climaxed in the removal of her Ouroboros tattoo, after which he'd barely escaped being murdered by the now-mindless creature, who was weak without much stones to sustain her. She had been killed soon afterwards.

Like it was surprising. To think that humans or homunculi had a monopoly on pain was the thought of an imbecile.

Envy developed what he wanted, changing the shape of his default body, turning his hair into a mane of quill-like strands, his garment into something that would shame a streetwalker, and taking an androgynous voice to suit his fluid shape.

He would call Mother by whatever name she currently wore, but never by that title. If he were ever to take his original shape again, it would only be to kill the people that he most despised. Nothing else was worth it.