Second Chance on Alche-me

Prologue

WYLAN

Lord Wylan of Tawney drummed his fingers against his thigh, trying—and failing—to ignore the nerves tightening his chest, twisting his gut.

It’s not that big of a deal, his heart pleaded.

It’s been a big deal for a while, his mind whispered.

You can’t fault them for forgetting—

They forget everything.

They can do better.

Can they?

Wylan had taken up painting last year. He suddenly and vividly wished he was in the forest with an easel, rather than in the entryway of the Academy of Alchemical Arts. Reyna said his paintings were beautiful. Kianthe said they looked like something Quinn, their toddler, would paint—which was rude.

Wylan didn’t pay much mind to the end result. Painting, he had learned, was more about that quiet moment as he observed the world around him, then eased a brush onto a canvas. It was soothing.

It was more soothing than a break-up, anyway.

The school was weirdly quiet. Wylan pressed his lips together and pushed off the wooden bench.

Everything here was new, commissioned by local Tawney craftsfolk.

The bench seemed like an ancient Sheparan antique, but style aside, there was nothing worn about it.

It was just a facade—an image crafted to gain a certain impression.

Wylan could compare that to someone else, honestly.

He turned away from the bench and paced the entryway.

It was a large room lined with benches, with two doors leading to hallways with classrooms, and a massive staircase climbing to the dormitories.

The walls were wooden paneling, lined with famous paintings Feo had only obtained through a great many favors.

Ivy had magically twisted around the perfectly-shaped stones, as if the school had been around for centuries rather than two years.

An imposing chandelier hung overhead, the kind that normally had to be lowered to light the candles—except these candles stayed lit in perpetuity. If Wylan squinted, he could see the alchemy circle glowing beneath each of them. It was brilliant, like most things Feo touched.

Wylan turned away from the chandelier, instead contemplating the alchemical sigil by the school’s entrance.

There was a bell there, one that located Feo inside the school and alerted them specifically.

He rang it when he first arrived… and had since been left waiting.

And wasn’t that just typical. The childish urge to ring it a dozen more times overcame Wylan, confused students be damned.

He lifted his hand to ring the bell—

—and a loud, rich peal echoed through the stone school.

This wasn’t a summoning bell, but a clocktower one.

Feo’s parents had been responsible for ringing that same bell near Kyaron to recall the farmers at night, or warn of bandit attacks on the fields.

It had long-since been decommissioned, and Kyaron’s diarn had gifted Feo the bell for reinstallation at their school.

Instantly, the buzz of students filled the hallways, and a breath later the wooden doors on either side of the staircase burst open.

Students poured into the entryway, heading back to the dormitories.

A couple balked at Wylan lurking by the entrance, and he clasped his hands behind his back, striving to be the impressive lord these alchemists might expect.

It rarely worked.

“Feo’s in Classroom B,” an older woman said.

She was one of Dreggs’ pirate alchemists, visiting on an accelerated program to gain her piece of the Arcanium.

Dreggs insisted they visit in staggered doses, lest their absence leave her fleet vulnerable, so every couple seasons Wylan was introduced to a new one.

This woman’s name was Minny, he was fairly confident.

He bowed slightly. “Much obliged.”

“Good luck, kid,” Minny drawled, and headed past Wylan into the freezing weather.

She tugged a cigar from the folds of her cloak.

As she passed, Wylan saw the tiny alchemy sigil she’d etched into the cigar, and when she tapped it, the end smoldered with embers.

She took a draw as she pushed into the icy wind.

“Close the door,” another student called, and a few shuddered as the bracing wind swept into the entryway.

Minny flipped them off and let the door close.

Wylan shook his head, turning towards the open doorway to the first hallway of classrooms. The students had mostly left by this point, and he moved swiftly through the hallway.

A large part of him wanted to turn around, reconsider this conversation, things weren’t that bad, why was he bothering with conflict—but then he remembered the dozens of little things that were breaking him, all the nights he sat in bed alone, staring blankly at the ceiling and drowning in the ever-growing weight of everything, and—

He entered Classroom B.

Feo stood at the front desk, hunched over a mess of parchment.

The weak sunlight reflected off the snow in the courtyard, casting a gray hue through the leaded windows.

Overhead, two smaller chandeliers illuminated students’ desks in a warm glow.

The students were all gone, though—the room was empty aside from Feo.

Wylan tried to lean casually against the stone doorframe, but nearly missed and almost fell instead. He corrected himself, but the scuffing of his boot alerted Feo. The Alchemicor glanced up, squinted in Wylan’s direction, then checked the windows. Their tone was almost… annoyed.

“I thought we were meeting at your manor tonight. I’m rather busy right now.”

They hadn’t seen each other in days.

Wylan’s heart sunk as he realized his own stupidity.

He’d mentally fortified for this conversation…

but apparently some distant part of his heart was hoping, waiting, for Feo to change Wylan’s mind.

He’d been hoping that in their darkest moment, Feo would identify the tone shift and become the partner Wylan needed.

But that wasn’t Feo. Not anymore.

Maybe it never had been.

Wylan cleared his throat. “Apologies, Alchemicor. But this is urgent.”

Feo quirked an eyebrow, straightening. “Alchemicor. We’re being formal now?” They contemplated that for a brief moment, then smiled wryly. “I admit we haven’t pulled titles into the bedroom in a while. Could be fun.”

Gods above and dragons abound. Wylan felt every muscle stiffen, and he had to fight past the sudden urge to snap or lose his temper. He’d gone down that path one too many times for his liking lately. “May we speak in private?”

His tone finally caught Feo’s attention. They narrowed their eyes, setting their quill back into a nearby inkwell. Pursing their lips, they made a gesturing motion. “We’re in a private classroom. If you’re hoping for an afternoon romp, I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. I have another class in—”

“Feo.” Wylan’s voice was as sharp as a blade.

It finally worked. Feo stared at him, and there. The flash of recognition, the knowing. Guilt simmered in Wylan’s gut, but he held his partner’s gaze.

Feo sighed. They tidied the papers on their desk, then set a leatherbound tome overtop of them. Finally, they retrieved their cloak, a magnificent thing of purple velvet and gold embroidery, off a nearby hook. The fabric rustled as they secured it over their shoulders.

“Come on, then. I suppose I’ll… be late to class.

” Feo paused by the door, using their finger to trace a circle in the wood.

Wherever they touched glowed deep blue, nearly purple, ensconcing the note they wrote into the circle’s center.

The words—Study the History of the Arcanium, Chapter 6, and be prepared for an exam—were left in big, bright script for students to read.

That done, they stepped past Wylan… and they purposefully didn’t brush against him, despite the narrow doorway.

Their avoidance spoke louder than words: they had a suspicion why Wylan was here.

Wylan found himself analyzing Feo’s body language, searching for how they felt about it.

Relief, or agony? Were they upset, or content?

Was it even a surprise?

Grimly, Wylan trailed after Feo, securing his own cloak over his shoulders as they approached a back door at the other end of the hallway.

Outside, the wind was biting, blowing cold snow into their faces—but the path had alchemical sigils drawn on the stones, causing the snow to melt for safer walking.

Feo had done something similar in Tawney, but to a lesser extent.

After all, the Arcanium—the stone that powered all alchemy now—was most powerful in proximity.

They walked past the Arcanium now, displayed in a grand courtyard for all to appreciate. It was protected with alchemical barriers to keep out erring students or thieves. Even from their proximity forty paces away, Wylan could feel the power Feo had channeled around it prickling his skin.

Unlike the Arcanium, the elemental mages’ Stone of Seeing was apparently in a cave deep below the Magicary. Feo had made a pointed statement by putting their stone outside for everyone to see.

But maybe the power plays of mages were none of Wylan’s business.

They arrived at a small stone cottage surrounded by towering pine trees.

Unlike the Academy, Feo’s home was modest, a nod to the desolate compound they’d occupied in Tawney for years.

While the buildings of the alchemy school were grandiose and awe-inspiring, Feo’s home always felt more like their actual personality.

Or what their personality used to be, Wylan thought.

Feo allowed Wylan entry, and closed the door behind them. A flick of their fingers lit a roaring fire in the hearth, and warmth flooded the space.

Wylan kept his cloak on.

Feo appraised him. “This won’t take long, then.”

“We need to talk,” Wylan managed to say. Now that they were together, alone, in a space where they’d had so many great memories… his resolve flickered yet again.