I was back in the clockwork tower of Victor's headquarters. He still refused to tell me what he wanted from me. Instead, he gave me one of the finest rooms in the building.
The space was massive. The furniture, carved from deep rosewood, was adorned with plush blue padding, and the sofa was piled high with soft white and gray cushions. The bed was the largest I had ever seen. When I finally collapsed onto it, it felt like sinking into a bed of soft clouds.
I had to admit, this place was heaven compared to the slums. My old flatbed back home had been a nightmare—a literal hell compared to this. The room was blessed with colorful glass that reflected the sunlight in magnificent shades, shifting with the passing hours of the day.
The curtains were made of a heavy, blue-colored velvet that felt as smooth as water, thick enough to shut out the light with a single pull.
It was strange. He hadn't taken the book, and he hadn't killed me. He gave me the most comfortable room in his headquarters, and yet the air felt heavy. I felt like a bird in a gilded cage—especially with the guard standing at the door, watching my every move.
Six days left until the alignment. Only six more days to go.
I stared at the scornful entity watching me. She jerked her head around when our eyes met.
"So, what are you exactly?" I asked plainly. The question didn't seem to surprise her.
"I am the book's guardian," she replied. "The Alchemist who kept the book at the workshop intended to protect it from greed. He cursed it, binding my spirit to the it to keep it from unworthy hands. Though, I suppose his plan failed." She gestured pointedly to the chains binding us.
"So why would he leave it there and not take it with him?"
"Maybe he wanted it to be found," she mused.
"To be exact, he added a 'weak' spirit as a guard to protect it from what? Flies? Given your power, that seems like overkill." I teased.
"How dare a mortal belittle me!" Her eyes glittered with a sharp violet energy. She began to rise, hovering just off the ground as her voice rising. "I am Hori, one of the greatest of the Purple Spirits. Now, mortal, you shall taste my ire."
Violet energy surged from her hands, targeting me—but nothing happened. Instead, she collapsed, screaming in agony as the chains snapped taut. I chuckled.
"W-what... what have you done?"
"Maybe that was the binding," I pointed out.
"A pox on it!" she squealed, clutching her head.
"Well, at least now I know your name." I smirked. She looked beyond disappointed, realizing she'd been tricked into revealing her name and providing information about herself.
So spirits have colors? Is this related to power levels?
The door suddenly opened. "Who are you talking to?" Guard Ken asked with suspicion. I stole a glance at Hori; she was still there, sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, her back turned to me. It seemed I was the only one who could see or hear her.
"As you can see, it's only me here," I said, my voice flat. I offered a lazy shrug and leaned back into the cushions.
Ken didn't look convinced. He squinted, scanning the empty spaces of the room and lingering a second too long on the spot where Hori sat radiating violet annoyance. Finally, he grunted, stepped back, and slammed the heavy door shut. Through the thick, frosted glass, his silhouette remained—a jagged, dark blur.
I opened the book. I knew the basics: the Parallel Gate could only be breached during the alignment, a moment when the veil thinned enough that the laws of Alchemy became irrelevant. On the other side lay pure, raw power—the kind I had been searching for my whole life.
Alchemic power had been my goal for a very long time. Power. I'm too close now.
I started to devour the book with hungry eyes.
As I flipped through the vellum pages, the scent of old vanilla and dried herbs filled my lungs. The first few chapters were a catalog of standard mixtures: potions for Ethereal Beauty, elixirs of Adoration, and practical recipes for healing wounds or brewing quick-acting poisons.
There were variations for every possible need—salves to dull the senses, liquids that could burn through iron locks, and tonics meant to sharpen a person's focus until they could hear a heartbeat from across a room. Each recipe was accompanied by meticulous sketches of the plants required, showing exactly where to cut the stems and how to grind the roots to preserve their potency.
But as I pushed deeper, the content turned more specialized. There were meticulously hand-drawn charts of rare fungi that only grew in the dark of a lunar eclipse, and diagrams of the human circulatory system marked with points where "Quinta Essentia" intersected with the other four elements.
Notes and researches on the temperament of various metals—how silver "wept" when exposed to certain salts and how lead could be "tricked" into behaving like gold for a few fleeting seconds.
Past the chemistry, there were sketches of Shadow-Walkers—creatures that lived in the dark mountains—and anatomical drawings of Wraiths, showing how their spirits anchored to the physical world through lingering grief.
I found charms designed to bind a human's will, turning their eyes into vacant mirrors, and dossiers on "The Ascendants"—people so powerful their very presence distorted the clockwork of the city.
Then, I hit the section that made my breath hitch.
It was an unfinished research log titled The Great Plague: An Error in Transmutation? The pages were stained with what looked like dried ink. It detailed the Plague, but not as a disease.
The Alchemist described it as a "Force of Awakening." He had sketched the infected, showing how the black rot was changing their inner core, either destroying or forming the Quinta Essentia. He noted that this core only formed in the "Awakened"—a strange, selective phenomenon.
There were diagrams of these survivors and a chilling note written in the margin: The body is the cage; but what is the key? And why do so many locks break?
The Alchemist had found many answers, and yet he had died with a thousand more questions. In the end, he had explained everything, yet settled nothing.
I kept turning the pages, devouring everything in my wake until, finally, I found it. The secret to open the Parallel Gate.