Chapter One: Inglorious Phoenix Ashes

It was burning. She didn't smell flesh burning—thank the deities—but it felt so painful. Maybe she was in Hell, not that she believed in the concept. She really wasn't a pure and innocent person; she lied and she lusted. She had every human trait that ensured she wouldn't reach Heaven, or more important to her belief, Nirvana. She hoped that, at least, she wouldn't become a slug in her next life. Important to the ecosystem be damned; they lived pretty unfulfilling lives, and they were mushy and repulsive.

She opened her eyes. She was blinded by white and closed them immediately. It was a shame she wasn't able to shut her ears. She wasn't able to see where the voice was coming from, but she knew: a woman with a sweet, yet dull, voice droned on and on and on…… it was like a metronome in the background set at moderato.

'Water, 35 litres—'

"—excuse me—"

'—carbon, 20 kilograms—'

"—where am I supposed to be?"

'—ammonia, 4 litres—'

"—it really isn't time for Chemistry class right now—"

'—lime, 1.5 kilograms—'

"—can you help me?"

'—phosphorus, 800 grams—'

The voice began to gain a vivacious lilt. She felt a building of hatred towards the woman and her voice. Couldn't that woman tell she needed help? Unless...

'—salt, 250 grams—'

She opened her eyes. The woman's voice grew louder and more fervent. There was a breathy quality to it that made it strangely detestable to hear. She supposed it was only her unique reaction. Still, she realized that the woman did not exist wherever she was at the moment.

'—saltpetre, 100 grams—'

Not minding the woman anymore, she looked around. It was still a harsh, grating white upon her eyes. Therefore, it was easy to discern the splotch of gunmetal gray in the distance. She—jogged? Drifted?—somehow transported herself in front of the object. It was a large stone or metal closed gateway. A large and elaborate eye was engraved upon the center of the doors. Should she knock on the door? She frowned as she thought. No, it seemed a little suspicious. There were grotesque humanoid figures twisted into the design of the gate.

'—sulphur, 80 grams—'

It was a man's voice this time. She jumped at his deep, yet calming voice, but ignored it shortly. She was fascinated by the gate.

'—fluorine, 7.5 grams—'

The door started to open. She saw amorphous shapes darting part her and into the small crack from the doors pushed ajar. 'Spirits of the dead, moving on?'

'—iron, 5 grams—'

The man's voice seemed to waver slightly, but continued on strong. Somewhere deep inside of herself, she knew she should step through the gate now, but she was curious. She wanted to see what would become of the woman and the man.

'—silicon, 3 grams—'

A raucous, gray blob streaked past her and she had chills running down her spine. 'It must be the man who killed me,' she thought outrageously. He was dead, she was dead… she managed to kill him, then? Strange… the blob-soul-spirit-man seemed to have been absorbed by the giant gate forcibly, unlike the others that floated in quietly…

'—a sprinkle of lead, a dash of mercury, a pinch of cadmium—'

The woman seemed rather manic now. She felt a slight tugging sensation when the woman's voice started to imitate chanting.

'—bismuth, boron, thorium, caesium—'

It was time, or that's what it felt like. She gave one final glance to the white space about her and finally walked through the gate.

The doors opened wider to allow room for her to comfortably step through. It was pitch black on the other side, but she wasn't sure that she crossed the gate yet. As she walked, her body-spirit felt heavier and heavier until she collapsed with her head spinning.

The world was being compressed into her mind; at least, that's what it felt like. She couldn't stop screaming until it stopped, which felt like millennia later. She heard dull chanting and knew that little time had actually passed, if time flowed here at all. There was nothing for it. She had to keep walking.

She felt something—someone?—jostle beside her and she knew she had to hold onto to that someonething. She could hear the murderer's death cry resonating through the dark.

'William will be ours again, my love.'

'Yes... this time, we can't let him go.'

By now, she was no stranger to pain. Her limbs shouldn't be in whatever position they were in now; she felt like her lungs were on her toes that grew out of her spine which was connected to her shoulder. She dared to open her eyes. She was in a beautiful antique laboratory, full of gadgets and gizmos and with candles lit along the walls. Then she saw the floor.

Blood was everywhere. She looked up (or down, it felt like both at the same time) and saw the horror struck faces of a beautiful couple: a man with black hair and glasses, and a young woman with mahogany curls and porcelain skin. She tried to open her mouth and talk, but something caught in her throat, which felt like part of her arm that was attached to her kneecaps with teeth growing out of them. She could only gurgle like a demented, choking animal. Her eyes shifted and met with another pair. She noted with sheer terror that the other pair of eyes was attached to a head that was twisted about an emaciated torso with ten broken limbs spayed about and flesh hanging off its skull. She realized that she was probably not better off and began to gurgle (trying to scream) in earnest.

"There were two? There must have been some mistake… Don't cry, William, Mother's here!" She made for the other blob, apparently named William. "Where would have the other one come from?" 'The Other One' laughed in her mind, through the pain. She came because of these two, why else? She lamented the fact that she couldn't tell them her name.

"Dante, get the hell away from them!" The man paced back and forth. "What have we done? We've perverted our child—children into these inhuman fiends!" He stops. "I—I can't deal with this. I-I need to leave. I'll be back."

"Hohenheim! Hohe-wait!" The woman, Dante, left the room in the wake of the man named Hohenheim. She turned her ugly, bulbous eyes unto her equally ugly and bulbous companion William. Blood started to drip into her vision, irritating her. William made eye contact again and she saw the disbelief, horror, and sadness that created a pit for the decaying thing. 'Of course he's male,' she thought with amusement, as she saw the blob focus his emotions into anger. 'Boys make everything easier by getting angry… most of the time.'

She tried to move in her deteriorating and bleeding flesh amoeba, and managed to scoot closer towards the other angry flesh creature. He turned his eyes away in frustration, clearly not willing to be comforted but unwilling, or unable, to move away.

The candles had long since melted away. They stayed in their positions for an extensive amount of time. There was no access to any windows so there was no indication of the passing time except for a loud 'tick-tock' from the grandfather clock hidden out of sight. The monotonous sound drove her crazy. William seemed to have become a mass of anger, frustration, and hopelessness, but he did allow her to slightly bump her bleeding skin with his numerous limbs for comfort.

Finally, the door opened again and the woman Dante stepped inside without the man Hohenheim. "Sorry," she whispered. Dante was crying. Dante carried a bag of what seemed to contain the source of gravity; it was pulling all her senses towards the contents of the bag. Dante noticed the eagerness and seemed encouraged. "You can think… you are alive. I won't let Hohenheim make me give up hope, I just can't. He may have abandoned you—" she timidly reached over to pat both his and her bleeding skull-heads, "—but you two are my children." She opened the bag and pulled out two lustrous, burgundy stones. She fed one to each of the bleeding flesh lumps and after a few moments, Dante shrieked and leaped backwards.

She felt it happen. Her hands started to mold themselves properly and took shape. Her ear was finally removed from her backside and the third stomach in her leg turned into a liver, which pushed itself into its proper place. Hair decided to grow correctly and she had a style that was short and messy in the back, but longer in the front and with a fringe that swept to the right. When she felt her feet were shapely enough to stand on, she got off the ground and realized that she was naked. She didn't turn around due to embarrassment and the realization that William was a boy in the buff. Dante didn't care and grabbed her and William in a fierce embrace.

"My children, oh, my beautiful children…" Even though Dante was warm, she couldn't help but feel chills.

Dante took the boy first. The woman seemed hell-bent on lavishing extreme attention on both of them that she was only able to clean the two up one at a time. She fawned over William, dragging him out to god-knows-where and left her all alone in the blood. That was fine since it didn't smell too bad and being brutally murdered left her quickly inured to the sight of blood. Her new body simply didn't retch at the sight of it, nor did it react to the mass of leftover organs on the ground. She poked a heart. It sputtered out a bit of blood pathetically.

The door swung open again and Dante was accompanied by a now-clean and dressed William. He was tall, lean, and well-built; his sharp jaw and face was framed by long, black hair tied up in a ponytail and violet eyes shone nervously from under his fringe. His clothing was dark and simplistic, but obviously aristocratic. He grinned as he neared his still naked and dirty acquaintance. "Hey, my incognito twin."

She snorted and reached over to smear blood and goop onto his new clothes. Dante quickly grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the room. "Now, dearie, you shouldn't get your brother dirty after I just cleaned him up," she chided softly. "It's so strange that there are two of you, but let blessings be blessings; I wanted one child back and received two! Fortunately for you, your father had extra materials on hand—"

She didn't speak. Let strange Dante and Hohenheim think that they were her parents… well, technically, they did create her in this world. She somehow just knew: she was a vanished twin during Dante's pregnancy. It felt strange that she had this knowledge, but it never occurred to her that it might just be a hyperactive imagination—she felt it was right with every fiber of her being, truly. Thinking more on the origin of her thoughts, she heard a whisper in her mind, 'The Gate…' What was the Gate? She sniggered mentally. Of course, it had to be that ugly stone-metal door that was the crossing between worlds. What did that thing have to do with anything, anyways?

Dante stopped and she nearly bumped into her 'mother'. The woman turned around and pulled her forward gently. "Step into the tub," she ordered.

The water was almost scalding, but it felt wonderful to her. Dante encouraged her to slide deeper into the water. "I should probably give you a name… You're such a beautiful young girl; I'm not just saying that because you're my child—" Dante poured hot water over her head.

"—there; lucky your hair is so short… it was such a pain to wash out all of the blood from William's head," Dante chattered happily, rubbing a strange substance into her hair. She supposed it was this world-place-time's equivalent to shampoo, so she sat still in the tub.

"—and a lot more well-behaved than William, too." The shampoo-substance was rinsed out. "I think you should be named Adiel. What do you think?"

She thought that she finally had a name; she didn't feel like using her real one. "Adiel," she said softly and smiled. Dante's face flushed in happiness.

"You like it? I've always wanted a daughter—you have your father's cheeks but my nose; oh, forgive me for being overzealous with you, Adiel," she said breathlessly.

"No—" she was going to say 'No problem', but it didn't feel right to speak like she used to speak. She shrugged instead. "There is nothing to forgive, Mother."

Dante hummed and made Adiel stand up. She poured more water to rinse off Adiel's soapy body and prodded her out of the tub. "Here, Adiel, hold up your arms." She did as she was told absentmindedly but blushed with shame when she realized that Dante was helping her get dressed.

"Mother," she protested. It felt foreign to say that word. Back in her other life, Adiel was—for lack of a kinder phrase—an irreverent brat towards her real mother. She was hardly one to call her mother 'Mother' so formally. Mostly, it was a 'Yo, Ma, I'm goin' out!'

"Hush; I've always wanted a daughter to doll up," Dante cut her off giddily. The mother then dragged her reluctant daughter towards a vanity table. "Sit down." Adiel scowled when she caught sight of her lacy, yet tasteful, dress in the mirror. Pretty or not, she really wasn't a dress type of girl.

"Do I need to be in a dress?" Adiel couldn't help muttering. Dante 'tsk'ed but smiled with mirth. Adiel's hair was attacked with an antique brush, which hurt despite the shortness of her hair. The Adiel in the mirror wrinkled her nose and stopped to stare at her face. It looked a lot like William's, but the cheeks were gaunter albeit not unhealthily; she had the same dark hair and violet eyes as her 'brother'; what struck her was how pale her skin was. Adiel looked nothing like she used to before her 'death'. Her oriental features seemed to have disappeared. The only thing still similar on her face was the shape of her eyes—they were still narrow, elegantly sharp and framed with delicate lashes. She was slightly happier upon noting that fact; her eyes were her favorite facial feature. Suddenly, Adiel's vision was obscured by a powder puff.

"Ack!" She was not used to someone else putting on makeup for her. Only Adiel was allowed to touch Adiel's face, not other people, thank you very much. She helped others put on their makeup, as well; never reversed. It made her feel like a child again. Dante seemed to sigh at her unruly daughter. "A young lady needs to be presentable at all times," she chided, evading all attempts to block the powder puff. Adiel didn't groan audibly, but her fire left. She stared forward, eyes meeting the mirror yet not really seeing her reflection. The shock of the whole Gate-to-now events wore off and she started to become curious. Wasn't she supposed to be dead? She doubted that reincarnation worked like what happened to her—she really wasn't 'born'. What was she? Her chest seemed to clench uncomfortably and she felt slightly hollow.

"Come on, get up," Dante ordered. She happily dragged her daughter out of the room and back to the laboratory, where she had left William. Adiel let her curious eyes roam the halls, intent on gleaning all the information she could as to her whereabouts. Everything seemed antique yet… there was little age to them. She couldn't describe it exactly, but it seemed like the decorations were new. Maybe she was in a house with history fanatics. They talked strangely, as well; much more formal and sharp. Adiel almost winced at Dante's heavy speech. It felt foreign on her tongue, but not just the diction. This place, wherever it was, was a lot different. She shook her head minutely; too many thoughts for a day.

Dante reached the laboratory and pushed the door open with poise and grace. Adiel looked on enviously and smiled ruefully. 'I've never seen a woman walk like that back—back home.'

"William? Come over here." Dante's sharp voice called over her new twin brother. He strode across the room easily, now comfortable in his clothing. "Properly greet your sister Adiel."

William smirked and held out his hand. Adiel stuck hers out hesitantly, expecting a handshake. Instead, he took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Pleasure to finally meet you," he drawled, noting the discomfort in her eyes.

Adiel sneered, knowing Dante couldn't see her face, and replied, "Same." Dante smiled and led the two into a parlor. William and Adiel leered at each other, but started giggling. Their mother left them in the room and went to bring them food.

Adiel watched William out of the corner of her eye and sat idly. She noticed that he was doing the same. Both seemed insistent that the other speak first. William's feet started tapping the very instant Adiel's hands fiddled with each other. Finally, Adiel decided to be the bigger person.

"So, what's your circumstance?"

William smirked at the sound of her voice and she rolled her eyes. She had a brother before, but that one wasn't half as insufferable at this one was proving to be.

"I died of mercury poisoning. It was because I worked as an apprentice to a physician—" Adiel felt confused until she realized that William meant a doctor, "—that I was trying to cure a plague, and mishaps in the laboratory just…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Did you die before you were born?"

Adiel frowned thoughtfully. Should she tell him about her circumstances? Adiel herself didn't know what to make of her own situation yet. She didn't want to add in the chaos of another person. So she nodded solemnly and casted her eyes to the ground. William walked over and held her shoulders soothingly. "You're alive now. I promise to be a loving and protecting brother, to help you through your life… provided that I am acknowledged as the older twin," he finished slyly.

Adiel smiled and swatted her twin's arm good-naturedly. "Then as the real older twin, I will protect and nurture you instead."

The two siblings became inseparable. Adiel was always attached to William, and William was never far from where Adiel was. Dante was ecstatic, but both twins knew she was hiding her pain behind the happiness. Their mother wilted every day.

"This needs to stop," Adiel said firmly. It was evening and the twins were in the library of the huge estate they lived in.

William was sitting on a dark armchair, flipping through a heavy medical tome that seemed to be in a foreign language. Adiel sat a foot away from him, relaxing on a lounge chair and writing down alchemy notes with a quill. She had recently come across papers detailing the science that existed here—wherever she was. Adiel was talented in the fields of mathematics and physical sciences, so alchemy—although obsolete when she was 'alive'—held her interest here. Many of the papers she had found were written by Hohenheim, her present father; that thought led back to the problem at hand.

"You mean, Mother's sorrow pertaining Father's absence?" William asked quietly. He closed his book. "I just cannot believe he ran away; that cowardly—"

"William!" Adiel snapped. Her twin stopped before he was set in a tirade. He looked at her and she was able to see the anger and frustration that she first saw in William's eyes. "We should give him another chance… it was natural for him to be scared; I was horrified when I realized how ghastly I looked—"

"—I'm the son he said he would love always," William lowered his voice to a murmur, as if afraid to reveal his emotions. "It-it just hurt, seeing my own father look at me with such revulsion, I—"

"—that's why you should give him a chance, now that you're better. You want Father back in your life, Mother wants him back, and I want to—would like get to know him better," Adiel finished lamely. "We should give him a chance. He might feel differently now."

William was pensive and he set his book down. "…alright. That seems like sound advice." He stood up. "We should convince Mother to search for Father, as well. We shall go."

Dante seemed to wholeheartedly agree with Adiel's advice, so the three asked around the nearby village for Hohenheim's whereabouts. Adiel partly wished that the search would be longer; she was in awe at the sheer amount of nature that surrounded the area. It was vibrant and beautiful; despite her amazement, she slightly missed the metropolitan environment where she used to live when she was 'alive'.

William and she decided to walk about town separately, in order to cover more ground. Adiel was wandering near the market and noticed an apothecary nearby. It seemed like a place a man of science would visit. She stepped inside the shop quietly and nervously.

"How may I help you?"

Adiel didn't jump at the croaking voice behind her. She turned around calmly and found herself staring down at a short, old man with a pair of eye lenses hanging from his neck. He was hunched and wrinkled, wearing an apron, but had a shrewd glint in his eyes.

Adiel nodded and replied politely. "I am looking for Hohenheim. Have you seen him recently?"

The old man chuckled. "Well, that man is very private; he wouldn't like me speaking so freely about him. What is your relation to Hohenheim?"

Adiel didn't know what to say. That she was Hohenheim's daughter would seem implausible to the old man. "I—Dante, his wife, asked me to help her find him." The old man wheezed in laughter.

"Dante lost him again? Well, he is a wanderer at heart, so…" he handed her a sealed letter. "Give that to Dante, dear. Have a nice day," and he ushered her out of the apothecary.

Adiel was confused with the abrupt end of their conversation but shrugged. She rushed to the center of town, the designated meeting spot. In her haste, she bumped into a man.

"Oof!" She stumbled backwards and regained her footing. Looking up apologetically, she spoke. "I'm very sorry; I was in a hurry. Are you uninjured?"

The man was jovial and forgave her easily. "No, I'm fine. It's strange to see a lovely girl such as you in a hurry. Is anything the matter?" His eyes had an appraising shine to them.

Adiel shook her head and started walking. "There is nothing wrong. Excuse me; I need to be on my way." The man turned around to walk after her.

"I will gladly accompany you to your destination," he said smoothly, eager to engage her in conversation. While he was kind, Adiel found him to be slightly annoying; she knew she captured his interest and was flirting with her using antiquated (to her) methods. She couldn't get rid of him short of kicking the man.

Her savior came in the form of her self-proclaimed older twin. "Adiel, were you held up by something? Mother was worried; we agreed to meet at twelve, remember?" William stared challengingly at the man, who stared back intrepidly. Adiel took this opportunity to quickly step into her brother's shadow.

"Nothing is the matter. Let's hurry." She almost forgot her manners until she turned back to the man with a short nod. "Thank you for your company." The twins left the man hastily before he could utter a word.

William seemed disgruntled. "I didn't like that man."

Adiel almost snorted. "I just bet," she retorted dryly. While she never had a protective older brother, she used to have an abundance of elder cousins, poised to tear into any human male that dared to touch their 'precious baby cousin'. Adiel shivered. No wonder she never dated.

William scowled. "Were you accepting his advances?"

This time, Adiel did snort. William looked aghast at her unladylike action before letting out peals of laughter. Adiel tried to look affronted, but failed to keep her mirth in. "No, I was looking for an escape route long before you showed up," she admitted.

William hugged her quickly with one arm. "You had the option of kicking him," he chided her. Adiel shoved him lightly.

"I was debating that. You must be tapping into our twin mental link," she replied smoothly. William laughed.

"Mental sounds about right, describing you."

"I won't deign to answer that."

"You just did."

Dante found the two locked in verbal warfare and pulled them apart lightheartedly. It seemed like she was truly happy to see her children bonding. "Did you two find any information on your father?"

William shook his head but Adiel pulled out the sealed letter, handing it to Dante. "The apothecary had this in his possession; he requested that I delivered this to you."

Dante broke the seal and the three family members crowded around the piece of paper. It detailed Hohenheim ordering a large amount of certain materials to be delivered to another town. Dante smiled after reading the letter. "Your father and I have another manor in that town. We can reach it within two days. We should go back to the estate and pack. Come, William, Adiel!" Dante folded the letter and tucked in into the collar of her dress.

Adiel was able to discern the heading of the letter right before it was folded. The date was slightly smudged, but the year clearly read 1514. Adiel felt her breath hitch in her throat.