The brilliant blue light blazed as if alive, which led me to think it was working. Shapes began to form from the container; small, fragile, familiar.
        "Nina!" My chest seized, hope burning in me so fiercely it hurt.
        But then the air shifted. It grew thick, suffocating, heavy with dread. The blue glow bled into sickly reds, bruised purples, and void-black shadows. My muscles locked tight as I watched the form distort. The sound of bone cracking, the wet tearing of flesh, stretching, folding, collapsing into itself. The figure convulsed, melting, warping in ways no human body ever could. The smell of iron and rot filled the air, choking me.
        "No, no, no!" I scrambled forward, reaching out with desperate hands, but the circle roared back at me.
        The floor beneath me split open into a single massive eye. Before I could scream, tiny black hands shot out of the darkness; dozens of them, cold and merciless, wrapping around my arms, my legs, my throat.
        "Wait! Please!" I called out, completely helpless as I was dragged down, my body torn from the ruin, pulled into endless white.

(?)

        Silence.
        The vast brightness stung my eyes until I forced myself upright. Before me loomed a colossal stone gate, its surface carved with a Sephirothic Tree of Life.
        And I was not alone.
        A figure stood before me, faceless, featureless, yet somehow grinning. The embodiment of Truth itself. Its outline mirrored my own, and though it had no eyes, I felt it watching.
        "You sought what is forbidden. You tried to claim a life from nothing. And so, a toll must be paid." Its voice echoed inside me, calm and dreadful.
        I struggled, trying to find my voice. My body felt almost weightless, but I found myself nodding to the figure.
        "Take anything," I begged, "I don't care what the cost is! Just... please, give her back to me! I'd give anything to hold her again, to see her again..."
        The figure's grin widened, merciless and inhuman.
        Agony tore through me as both arms began to dissolve... Not severed, not torn, but unmade. Strand by strand, flesh and bone unraveled into nothing. I shrieked as I stared down at the stumps, but the horror only deepened when I looked back up to see my arms reformed on Truth itself, its silhouette now wearing them like a mockery.
        "You say you wanted to hold her, to protect her, never again." It gloated, its faceless grin stretching wider. "And yet. I am not finished with you."
        I sobbed, "Why? Why me? Why was I the one left behind?"
        Truth laughed, "Do you really not know?"
        Before I could answer, the black hands closed around me again, pulling me into suffocating darkness.
        And in the void came a voice.
        "I can't lose her… I won't. I won't!" The voice of my father.
        My eyes widened as the scene unfolded before me: my infant body, deathly pale, barely breathing… and my father, clutching a syringe filled with a glowing red liquid. I felt a sharp phantom pain as he plunged the needle into my chest; my tiny body convulsed and then gasped for life.
        Truth's voice whispered at the edges of my mind, soft and unyielding. "The night you should have died… your father forced you back. In that moment, you ceased to be his daughter. You became his proof. Not salvation, Nicole Tucker… a transgression."
        I shook my head violently, "No… No, that's not… he-"
        My father's voice answered, breaking through the void like a memory I never knew I had.
        "It worked… oh God, it worked. Life restored through alchemy… through me."
        More visions came into view: my father hunched over his desk, scribbling feverishly in his notes. A toddler version of me sat in the corner, wide-eyed, watching. He turned, fever-bright eyes boring into me.
        "You're proof! Proof that life can be rewritten, that death can be denied. Do you understand? You are a miracle of alchemy."
        My stomach turned. I do remember him saying those words, but not like this. Not with that hungry look in his eyes.
        "Don't you see? I saved you. Without me, you would've died. To think, I can save more; I can create more. The natural order doesn't have to be obeyed!"
        "You were his justification to begin the experiments. If one impossible miracle was possible… why not another?" Truth coiled around me as the final vision crept in: Nina, whimpering in her chimera form, while Shou loomed over her.        
        I fell to my knees, sobbing, begging, "Stop… Please, stop…"
        Whiteness swallowed everything again, and suddenly Truth was nose to nose with me, its grin splitting impossibly wide, stretching across the faceless void.
        "That is why your transmutation reached me," it said, voice calm, merciless. "You weren't merely dabbling in the forbidden… You are forbidden. Your father damned your family the moment he dragged you back across the threshold."
        Before I could protest, Truth had my hands clamped around my face. Their grip was ice-cold and sank deep into my right eye.
        "Now you will pay the toll twice. Not only with your arms, but with your sight. From this day forward," Truth whispered, "your eyes will never rest. You will see glimpses of tragedies yet to come. Every scream, every loss, every drop of blood that has not yet been spilled."
        White-hot pain surged through my skull. I shrieked, thrashing, bile rising in my throat until I retched on the empty floor.
        "This is Equivalent Exchange," Truth mocked, "You will walk among the living, forever shadowed by death. This is your path, your punishment. Because you were never meant to save anyone, Healing Alchemist…"
        Its grin stretched into the infinite.
        "…you were meant to suffer."
        The black hands erupted once more, wrenching me away from the Gate. I was hurled, screaming, back into the world of flesh and blood—armless, broken, and cursed with eyes that would never close to the horrors yet to come.

(Liore)

        I jolted back into the real world, pain exploding through me like fire racing along my veins. My body was shaking violently, and though I was awake, I could feel the cold creeping in; the unmistakable chill of blood pouring from where my arms had been.
        My breath came in short, shallow gasps. Each one rattled like it might be my last. I tried to steady it, whispering to myself, 'Don't pass out. Not yet. Not here.' If I could just make it outside, just survive a little longer, maybe... maybe there would be a chance.        
        Staggering to my feet felt impossible. Without arms, I had nothing to brace against, nothing to push myself up with, so I lurched forward clumsily, legs buckling beneath me. Every step was a battle, but I forced my body through the broken doorway, refusing to look back at the twisted, unholy thing I had brought into this world. I didn't need to. I knew. It wasn't Nina. It would never be Nina.
        I barely made it through the door before the night erupted. A deafening BOOM split the air, shaking the ground under me and lighting up the sky in a violent flash. The shockwave hurled me forward, slamming me against the dirt. When I tried to rise, debris rained down: jagged wood, chunks of stone, its crushing weight pinning me to the ground.
        I thrashed weakly, panic clawing at my throat as the rubble pressed tighter. My ears rang with screams, soldiers, civilians, I couldn't tell; all blurring together in a chorus of terror. I clawed uselessly at the air with phantom arms; the blood loss was worse now, hot streams turning cold as they soaked into the dirt beneath me.
        My vision tunneled, darkening at the edges. Every heartbeat felt heavier, slower. My last sight before the black closed in was Lt. Col. Hargrave's face, distorted by smoke and flame, her arm outstretched toward me.

(?)

        Darkness stretched on, broken only by flashes of light and pain. I floated through the haze, voices and places blending together until I no longer knew what was real.
        When I finally came to, the first thing I felt was the crushing weight in my shoulders; a dull ache that throbbed with every breath.
        "She's healing so fast," a voice murmured to my left. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she's had automail all her life. The way her muscle tissue is regenerating... It's incredible."
        Their words barely reached me, slipping in and out of the haze. With effort, I lifted my head and forced my gaze downward.
        My arms.
        Metal gleamed where flesh should have been, polished steel catching the light. The sight made my stomach twist. I remembered the black hands tearing my real ones away, Truth's mocking voice echoing in my skull.
        I couldn't breathe. My chest clenched, panic rising in me.
        "Nicole."
        I turned, Maes Hughes sat at my bedside, his familiar face softened with relief, his eyes wet with tears. I noticed he had a hand placed on my new arm, though I couldn't feel it.
        For a moment, I broke. So much emotion suddenly welled up inside me; it was overwhelming. Without thinking, I lifted my new arms; they were jerky and heavier than I imagined. Pain seared through my back, but I didn't care. I wrapped them around him. The metal was cold, but his warmth pressed back against me as if it didn't matter.
        He hugged me tight, steady and unyielding. "It's alright, you're home. You're safe now."
        I clung to him, tears spilling down my face, even as my automail arms trembled against his back. "I tried… I just wanted to hold her again. I wanted Nina back…" I whimpered, the confession coming forward.
        Hughes didn't pull away. He didn't flinch or scold me. Instead, he only held me tighter, his voice low and steady against my ear.
        "Oh, Nicole…" he whispered, his tone carrying nothing but care. "Of course you did. Anyone who loved her as much as you did would've tried. You were desperate, hurting, and alone."
        His hand moved gently over the back of my head, grounding me with every pass of his fingers.
        "It's easy to forget you're just a kid yourself," Hughes said softly. "You've carried so much pain all on your own. But you don't have to anymore, got it? When it feels like too much, you lean on me. I'll carry it with you; that's a promise."
        I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my hospital gown. When I went to wipe my right eye, Hughes caught my arm and gently lowered it.
        "Ah-ah, don't do that. You lost that too... Best to let it heal. Especially with those brand-new arms, you're liable to knock a wall down before you know it." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
        I blinked, startled, only now realizing that my right eye was completely covered.
        "And another thing," Hughes went on, tilting his head toward me. "You're on strict medical leave while you recover, so you're going to be staying with me. No ifs, ands, or buts. I've already got a room set up for you. Even grabbed a few things from your old place so you couldn't try and argue with me." His grin stretched wide as he fished something from his pocket. "Gracia and Elicia are gonna be over the moon to have you around. Honestly, I don't think you're ready for how much Elicia can talk. Look-"        
        He unfolded a small stack of photos and held them up proudly. "See? Isn't she the cutest thing you've ever seen? That's Elicia with her first ice cream cone. And here she is trying to bathe the dog. Adorable, right?"
        I couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at my lips, but it was shaky. Elicia's bright grin in the picture twisted something deep in my chest. I had to look away before the warmth in Hughes's voice drowned me.
        "Okay," I whispered, nodding as I blinked back the sting in my eyes. "I won't fight you on it. Thank you… Hughes."
        His eyes softened at my tone, and he tucked the photos away before leaning forward against the bed. "You know… while you were out, you kept calling out."
        My breath hitched. "…For Nina?"
        He nodded, his smile fading into something gentler. "For her… and for me." His voice dropped, warm and steady. "You kept asking where I was. You begged me not to leave you."
        Heat rushed to my face, shame and grief colliding in my chest. "I-"
        But Hughes cut me off with a soft squeeze to my shoulders. "And you know what else? You asked for arms. Automail arms. Over and over. Like it was the most important thing in the world." He gave a half-smile, shaking his head. "Even unconscious, you were stubborn."
        My throat tightened as I shook my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
        "You know why?" Hughes leaned in, his tone gentler now. "Because some part of you still wants to fight. Deep down, you knew you weren't finished yet. You wanted the strength to keep going, even when you couldn't say it out loud." His hand brushed against the cold edge of my new automail, not flinching at the chill of the steel. "And now you've got them. They'll never replace what you lost… But they can help you live. They can carry you forward."
        I swallowed hard, my throat burning as I took in everything he said. His words didn't erase the pain, but they wrapped around me like armor, strong enough to keep me from breaking apart completely.
        He smirked, "Besides, heavy as those things are, I don't think anyone's gonna win an arm-wrestling match against you anytime soon."