Silence fills in the hallway.

Silence holds its breath, Stillness wraps the palace in peace, The night’s quiet pause.

Footsteps echo clear, Sharp against cold stone walls, Rhythm in the night.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A figure emerges from the hallway of the kingdom's palace, her crimson cloak swirled with each step, its vivid colour a striking challenge to the sombre, grey expanse of the grand hallway. Her short crimson hair, a wild tempest, swirled about her elegant features—those that bore the faintest trace of dissatisfaction. Her arms, burdened by the weight of ancient tomes, codices, and scrolls, moved with a delicate grace as she forged ahead. A polished brass mahogany staff, ornate and gleaming, rested beneath her arm, precariously balanced on the brink of free fall as she shifted the weight of her tomes.

It was The Alchemist

“Of all the absurd ideas,” she grumbled, her voice resonating softly in the dim light. “Twin princes… wielders of the Alchemical art!" She said sarcastically, "As though they possessed the power to command anything other than the art of tormenting my very own existence!”

She huffed, adjusting the stack of books as they threatened to topple. The staff bumped against her side, and she let out a frustrated sigh.

“If they spent half as much effort on their lessons as they do on their escapes, they’d be prodigies by now,” she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “But nooo, of course not. Why learn the art of transmutation when they can climb trees or… whatever it is they do when they vanish.”

The Alchemist’s steps quickened as her irritation mounted.

“But of course, the wise king insists,” she continued, mimicking a regal tone, ‘‘They must master Alchemy if they are to stand against Them.” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind that they barely know a crucible from a cauldron.”

The hallway stretched on, the oppressive silence broken only by her footsteps and her muttering.

Her grip tightened as the pile swayed again. “And now I have to drag these lessons to their chambers? Hmph. No excuses this time!” she declared with a hint of triumph in her tone. “If they won’t come to their lessons, I’ll bring the lessons to them!”

She stopped to adjust the staff under her arm, sighing as she resumed her walk. “Honestly, this isn’t even about Alchemy anymore. It’s about him.” Her voice softened, though the irritation lingered. “The king thinks the world will bend to his will if he just molds them into what he wants. But they…” Her lips curved into a faint, rueful smile. “They’re not his tools. And they’ll never learn Alchemy with their hearts elsewhere.”

The Alchemist’s steps grew slower as she neared a junction in the corridor, her thoughts drifting. For a moment, the youthful playfulness in her demeanor returned, a flicker of rebellion sparking in her emerald eyes. “Maybe I should turn them into frogs for a day,” she mused aloud, her smile widening. “See how far they run then.”

The sound of footsteps stopped.

Silence.

She glanced over her shoulder, frowning. The air felt heavier now, the stillness unnerving. The flicker of the torches seemed dimmer, the shadows longer. Her grip on her staff tightened instinctively as she scanned the hallway behind her.

Nothing.

The hallway that stretched towards the Twin Princes' chamber lay before her, shrouded in shadows and thick with an eerie silence. The Alchemist’s boots echoed with a sharp cadence upon the cold stone floor as she drew near, her crimson cloak trailing behind her like blood in the shadows. In the dimly lit hallway, two royal guards stood sentinel, their halberds crossed in a formidable barrier, denying passage to any who dared approach. Their fully enclosed helmets bestowed upon them an imposing, faceless presence, a silent testament to their formidable nature.

The Alchemist's ire ignited once more. She shifted the staff beneath her arm, her stack of tomes teetering dangerously as she cast a fierce glare upon them.

“Step aside. I need to see the princes,” she demanded, her tone sharp.

The guards stood unmoved, their silent defiance irritating her further. “Did you not hear me?” she snapped. “The king ordered me to tutor the princes tonight. Let me through!”

The guards remained unmoved. One of them spoke, his voice muffled by the helmet. “You cannot pass.”

The Alchemist’s eyes narrowed. “And why not? By whose order?”

The other guard answered flatly,

“By the order of the king.”

Her irritation morphed into a chill that seeped into her very bones—a foreboding dread that lingered in her very skin. The tomes she bore weighed upon her like the burdens of fate themselves, her thoughts surged forth in a tempest of urgency. Such a notion seemed most improbable. The King had given her a clear command to instruct the young princes on this very evening. He yearned for them to delve into their Alchemical studies, to prepare themselves for the trials that lay ahead. The breath of the Alchemist caught in her throat, and her eyes darted between the two guards.

“No…” she murmured, taking a step back. “You’re no royal guards.”

A whisper of movement behind her. The Alchemist’s instincts screamed danger. With a sharp clatter, she let her books fall, pivoting on her heel as two hooded figures materialised from the darkness, their daggers glinting ominously in the dim light. They surged forth, their intentions dark, seeking to seize her from behind.

But she was faster.

The Alchemist seized her staff from beneath her arm, the brass tip shimmering with a subtle glow as she summoned her alchemical power. With a swift gesture, she pointed at one of the guards. The metal of his chestplate shimmered, then visibly weakened. She sidestepped the assassin’s attack, using her staff to redirect his momentum. The dagger plunged into the weakened chestplate, the force knocking the assassin out cold.

The second impostor guard lunged forward with fierce intent. The Alchemist’s staff spun in her grasp, a seamless extension of her very being. With a swift motion, she lunged upward, her strike striking against the false guard's armour. With a surge of transmutational energy, the metal coiled tightly, hoisting the imposter from the ground as if he were but a feather in the wind. His breaths emerged in ragged gasps, each one a struggle as the armour constricted mercilessly around his chest.

“Who are you?” the Alchemist demanded, her voice cold and commanding. “What do you want?”

The imposter remained mute, his silence a stubborn defiance even in the face of his torment. The Alchemist's fingers clenched around her staff, the armour yielding further under the strain, each tortured groan of metal echoing the agony that escaped his lips.

“Speak!” she commanded, her fury and trepidation surging forth like a tempest.

At long last, with his final, laboured gasp, the imposter roared, “By the order of the Black Hand!”

"This realm shall crumble beneath the weight of its own treachery this very night!”

His body fell slack, the armour relinquishing its cruel grip. The Alchemist remained motionless, her staff quivering ever so slightly in her grasp as the resonance of his words lingered in the stillness around her.

The shadowy grip of the Black Hand looms, a silent force weaving through the tapestry of power and intrigue. The words sent a shiver down her spine, far colder than the darkest night could ever hope to be.

Before she could catch her breath, movement drew her gaze down the hallway. Three more guards stood there, their halberds lowered in readiness. Their posture was rigid, their silence damning. They had been heading toward the Twin Princes’ chamber but now stood frozen, caught off-guard by their cover being blown.

The Alchemist’s blood ran cold. They weren’t guards either.

In unison, the impostors readied their halberds, their visors angling towards her with a menacing intent. The Alchemist lifted her staff, its brass head shimmering with a burgeoning energy, a harbinger of the alchemical forces at her command. She planted her feet firmly, her crimson cloak swirling around her as the air thickened with palpable tension.

The princes found themselves ensnared on the brink of peril.

No—the entire realm teetered on the brink of peril.

-o-

Upon awakening, the Older Twin was met with an enveloping darkness and an unsettling stillness. His dreams—vague and glimmering—fractured into a thousand pieces. Departing with nothing but a faint, lingering echo of what once was.

A jarring, resonant clash of steel rang out from the shadows beyond the chamber. A strangled cry echoed through the air, abruptly silenced by a chilling, wet, gurgling sound.

The stillness that ensued hung in the air, thick and oppressive. He sprang to attention, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered hoarsely, shaking his younger brother awake.

“What...?” The Younger Twin stirred awake, his voice thick with sleep.

The sounds intensified, reverberating through the air with an urgency that could not be ignored. Boots echoed against the marble floors, the sharp sound of glass shattering resonating through the air.

Stillness, choking and oppresive enveloped the surroundings.

The door to their chamber swung wide

It crashes against the wall with a force that echoed through the bedroom chamber of the young princes. A silhouette loomed. The figure stood stark against the dim glow of torchlight spilling from the corridor. The Older Twin recoiled, his form tense with fear, yet the figure emerged into the lights of the gaslamps inside.

It was the Alchemist

Steely resolve etched her angular face; her hair lay in wild disarray. Her staff gripped firmly in her hands, as if she wielded a spear. With a forceful motion, she slammed the door shut, her hand twisting the key in the lock before she secured the bolt with a decisive snap.

“Wake up, boys. Quickly now.” She moved to the Younger Twin’s bedside, shaking his shoulder gently amidst her own panic. “You must come with me. Don’t worry about changing—just your slippers, yes? That’s it.”

“Wha- What’s happening?“ the Older Twin asked, his voice trembling.

The Alchemist crouched before him. Her sharp emerald green eyes were steady and reassuring. “There are some bad people in the palace tonight,“ she whispered. “But I won’t let them hurt you. You must stay close to me, and we’ll be fine. Do you understand?”

The twins sat in their beds, clearly frozen trying to process what had happened

The Alchemist took her breath again, "Do you understand?" she repeated, softer this time.

The Older Twin nodded, his chest tight with fear. Now more alert, the Younger Twin came to stand beside his brother, clutching his arm.

“Good,“ the Alchemist said, forcing a smile, her voice calm but firm. She turned toward the door as it shuddered under a heavy blow.

A heavy thud reverberated through the door behind them.

The sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the air. The Alchemist whirled, her staff lifted high, ready to channel her power. A radiant barrier of light sprang to life, shimmering with an ethereal glow as it stretched across the door.

The door shattered with a resounding crack, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Three hooded figures surged into the room, their daggers and short swords catching the faint light and reflecting it like shards of ice. The Alchemist advanced, her staff lifted high, a beacon of power and intent.

“Stay behind me,” she commanded, her voice resolute.

The hooded figures closed in, yet the Alchemist moved with swiftness unmatched by the assailants. As she raises her staff, warm light emanated from her staff, illuminating the shadows around her. The metal frames of the princes' beds shimmered and twisted, transforming into fluid. The twins inhaled sharply, their eyes wide as the liquid metal ascended, twisting and turning like a dance of molten silver in the air.

“Close your eyes,” she said, her voice gentle but urgent.

The Older Twin complied without hesitation. He pressed his eyes tightly closed, yet the Younger Twin dared to glance through his lashes. With a deft motion of the Alchemist’s wrist, the liquid metal crystallised into razor-sharp shards that shot forth, aimed directly at the intruders. The sound of impact resonated with a sickening finality, soon accompanied by the heavy thuds of bodies collapsing to the ground. 

As the Older Twin finally summoned the courage to open his eyes, a wave of nausea washed over him at the sight before him. The cloaked figures remained still, a dark stain spreading beneath their forms. Blood pooling beneath them. The Younger Twin's grip on his arm grew firm, a subtle tremor coursing through it.

The Alchemist knelt before them, her voice a gentle whisper, filled with an ancient wisdom. “Look at me, not on them,” she urged, her eyes warm even as her voice carried an edge of urgency. “I know this is frightening, but we must keep moving. Can you do that for me?”

The boys exchanged glances, their bodies trembling with fear. Yet, she bestowed a subtle, uplifting smile. “Good. Hold onto each other and follow me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

-o-

The hallway stretched ahead, the sight was beyond nightmare. Royal Guards engaged fiercely with mercenaries and assassins clad in mismatched armour, the sound of swords clashing against shields echoing through the corridor. Clouds of smoke from a fire stings deeply in their nose, the sharp smell was mixed with the metallic scent of blood and the desperate wails of the wounded.

The Alchemist moved in swift arcs. As she moved, her staff flashed as she turned the simplest objects into weapons. A decorative vase became a cloud of shrapnel, cutting down an attacker who lunged at them. A decorative armour become twisting metal threads, forcing another enemy to retreat.

“Keep close,“ she reminded the princes as they followed her. Their tiny hands clutched at her robes.

Amidst the chaos of the palace, the twins found solace in the steady demeanour of the Alchemist. As yet another assassin emerged from the shadows, the Alchemist responded with a decisive strike, rendering him incapacitated in an instant. The Older Twin turned his gaze away, his hold on his brother’s hand growing firmer.

The Younger Twin, typically so composed, faltered as he tripped over a corpse of a Royal Guard, his pale face glistening with sweat. The Alchemist placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment.  “You’re brave,“ she whispered. “Just a little further now.”

The palace stood in ruins, its former magnificence overshadowed by the scars of battle. The Alchemist’s determination served as their guiding light through the chaos. She leads them through the darkness, navigating the horrors that surround them in search of the safety that awaits beyond the shadows.