I awoke in the morning very groggy. After wiping the sleep from my heavy eyelids, I turned to see Ed sitting on the edge of his bed, arms crossed and looking angry.

"Brother?" I croaked. "What's wrong?"

There was a loaded pause before he answered. "Check the doorknob, Al," he groused.

I shifted the blankets off and set my feet on the cool wood planks of the floor. It only took a handful of steps to reach the door, as the room was small, and I grasped the knob. It wouldn't turn. It was locked from the outside.

"Guess Father hasn't mentioned us to Dante yet," Ed grumbled.

"He will! Don't worry!" I replied, turning to face him. From my periphery, I caught sight of an addition to the room I hadn't noticed in the dark the previous night.

There was a narrow door across from my bed.

"Brother, where do you think this door goes?" I tentatively touched the cold iron latch.

Ed slid from his bed and walked over. "Must be the attic." He didn't hesitate, pressing down the latch and pulling the door wide open. "Come on. Let's check it out."

I followed him up a small, tight stairwell and at the top we gawked.

We stood in an enormous open room. I was barely able to see the opposite wall for it seemed to stretch endlessly. It was filled to the brim with dusty, forgotten treasures. Mannequins stood all about the room like faceless sentinels. Papers and books were stacked haphazardly like crumbling towers. The many pieces of rickety, splintered furniture created a labyrynth. Drawers were pulled open, spilling their secret bounty of threadbare military uniforms and moth-ravaged evening gowns. Nubs of chalk, glass pipettes and beakers, half-empty matchboxes and other miscellaneous brick-a-brack lay strewn about the floor and atop every surface.

"Woah! Look at all this stuff!" I exclaimed.

"You mean all this junk," Ed gruffed, but he kneeled to open a large and cracked leather chest, tossing its contents about.

We spent hours exploring. The bright sun spilling through the small windows lit our way through the trove. We didn't know what the time was, but as we paused in the stifled air, we felt our empty stomachs protest in hunger.

As if on cue, we heard a sound come from the bedroom below. We flew down the steps to greet Father, who was carrying a large silver tray with a spread of food.

Being the ravenous teenagers we were, we were tripping over ourselves to grab at anything and everything, hastily shoving it in our mouths in huge bites.

I gulped down a large hunk of bread and looked to Father. "Have you told Dante about us yet?" I asked while I brushed the crumbs from my chin.

"Not yet. I will when the time is right, don't worry," he said with a far-off look on his face.

"What about the alchemy we want to learn?" Ed asked. "We didn't bring any books with us."

"I'll bring you some. Dante has an entire library."

This Dante must be very wealthy, I pondered, and was most definitely proficient in alchemy if she had a library's worth of manuals.

"I must return downstairs, but I'll come back to check on you soon," Father assured us, and with that he was gone as quickly as he had come.

Ed looked to the closed door with a forlorn expression he must have thought I didn't see. He whipped his head back toward me, a devious glint in his eye.

"Race you to the attic!"

Before my brain could shoot the synapse for my legs to move, Ed was sprinting past me in a blur. I flew up the stairs right on his tail.

As we reached the top, I was so close that I grabbed onto the hem of his shirt. But the sudden catch caused him to jerk back, tripping him up and sending him sommersaulting across the floor. In turn, my foot caught the corner of a trunk and I too flew, facefirst, sending a cloud of dust swirling through the air. I came to a stop sprawled on top of him.

"Never gonna beat me in a race, Al," he huffed, trying to reclaim the wind that got knocked out of him in the fall.

"Maybe I could if you at least warned me we were racing," I sputtered, rolling off him to sprawl out on my back.

I lay for a while catching my breath, watching the motes of dust swirl in the sunbeam streaming through the window.

When we were fully recovered, we started rummaging through the as of yet uncharted regions of the attic.

Ed was drawn to the pile of books and journals. With great care he peeled back their brittle covers, lest the antique, dog-eared pages crumble to dust.

I set about opening every chest and drawer, hoping to find some shred of information about Dante.

I had not one inkling to go off of, no frame of reference at all. I assumed the discarded items had all belonged to Dante, but there was so much and such a variety that I could pinpoint no facts for certain.

I wondered about everything regarding Dante. How did her and Father meet? Did he once love her as much as our mother? Was she a State Alchemist?

In the depths of the splintered birch crate I was elbow-deep in, I came upon a photograph. In the center of the composition, unsmiling in sepia tones, were a man and a woman.

Just then, Ed came from behind me and knelt down, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Well they sure do look friendly," he said sarcastically, clearly referencing their dour expressions.

I snorted and shook my head. "People didn't use to smile in photographs." No, the generations after had only the eyes in which to decipher the secrets of these stone-faced ancestors.

I set the photograph atop the nearest dresser. I couldn't leave them abandoned at the bottom of a box, all but forgotten, for I knew that I would not have wanted that for my own legacy.

Ed and I explored until the sky was awash with the lavender hues of dusk, then made our way back downstairs. Grimey and sweat-soaked, we took turns bathing. We sat chatting from our beds until the door lock clicked, and the maid entered with our supper.

She set the tray down on top of the dresser and made to leave the room straight away.

"What's your name?" I called to her.

"Lyra. And you must be the sons of Hohenheim of Light," she said haughtily.

Ed tilted his head. "You know our father?"

"I know of him," she corrected him, and took another step toward the door.

"And what about Dante?" I asked to stop her. "Have you been with her lo-- ...?"

But she didn't stop. I had to terminate my question, for she quickly turned the doorknob and left.

I hung my head and heaved a great sigh.

"I've about had it with all the secrets already," Ed groused. And while I couldn't help but agree, I was certain Father knew what he was doing. He was given the chance to study under the tutelage of what was, for all I could surmise, an alchemy master. Our temporary confinement must have been the only way to ensure his apprenticeship.

A storm erupted, illuminating the verdant hillside with violent streaks of cobalt. I lit a single candle in the candleabra and jumped onto Ed's bed.

Ed was well acquainted with my fear of thunderstorms. I've been clutching him, trembling, eyes shut tight, since we were little whenever they ripped a path through the sky. I've gotten a bit less dramatic since then, but I still coped best beside him. He folded the blanket down to welcome me.

He lay with his arms under his head. I lay on my side, facing him.

"Have a little faith, Brother," I said softly. Ever since we arrived, Ed appeared tense the majority of the time. I felt it my duty to assuage his worry.

"I ran out of faith a long time ago." His brow crinkled as he stared at the flickering candle across the room. "He said we'd only be in here for one night. It's been two and no one will tell us how much longer. I can't get rusty on my alchemy. I need to practice."

Before my eyes closed for the night, I vowed to get answers in the light of the new day.