Page 21 of The Alchemists

“Which would have been fine. If I wasn’t also.” His face was a thousand degrees—no, hotter, blazing like the surface of the sun. “Well, queer, anyway.”

Lily did not rescue him from his discomfort. Why should she?

“Cantrèa is a fine substitute.” He stood, shoes on, bag and jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Is it?” Lily went around, tidying the detritus of her practice, not looking at him.

“I thought it was.”

She nodded thoughtfully as she turned off her speaker. Seb dropped his bag and rolled up her yoga mat, then brought it to the bin with total concentration.

“Thanks.”

He stood still, waiting, weighing. The worst she can say is no. “Do you practice a lot?” He bit his lip. “Maybe I could join you? If you wouldn’t mind?”

She took her time making a decision. “I wouldn’t mind. Thursday evening?”

He nodded, with what felt like far too much eagerness.

She gathered her things, and he followed her to the door.

“Do you want to head to the library, grab a scone? The dining hall is closed.”

“No.”

For a moment, he thought she was disagreeing with his assertion about the dining hall before he realized she was turning him down. It stung more than it should have, and for a brief, terrible second, he understood why people treated her the way they did. Here he was, trying to be nice⁠—

Common sense took over. What, really, had he done for her, other than interrupt her practice and ask to interrupt it again? Maybe I should treat it like a lesson? Offer to pay her for her time? But somehow that seemed like it would go over even less well.

They walked in silence, and he waited while she unlocked her bike.

“See you Thursday?” he said finally, when it became apparent that she was going to ride off without any sort of closure.

“Sure.” She pedaled away without looking back.

Seb turned and walked for his dorm, trying and failing to make sense of it all.

LILY

It took her hours to fall asleep.

The weirdness of it kept her mind running circles around itself. Her heart beat faster than normal; her skin itched. Allsaires danced, had danced. Allsaires had asked to dance, if not with her, in proximity to her. Allsaires had reached into a roaring fire and been unscathed. Allsaires had told her freely that he was gay, or queer. None of it made sense, and all of it filled her with a heated urgency that she didn’t understand.

There had been rumors about him and Conrad Hawleyhurst, that their friendship might be something more, but she’d always taken it for jealousy. As a source of other people’s speculation, she didn’t like to speculate herself.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of fire.

SOLUTIO

In Solutio we find the root of all alchemy. The early human history of our world itself is a metaphorical Solutio: an imperfect lump of matter dissolved in a turbulent flood by an impartial alchemist (God, if you will humor me), that a new form may emerge from that planet-sized womb.

Caeden Chant

Until All Be Water Perform No Operation: The Process of Solutio

SEB

“Let’s get down to it—list for me some elements needed to begin the alchemical process.” Professor Chant stood at the blackboard as if he hadn’t spent the first fifteen minutes of class telling people to stop asking him about the Elumnara. Whether he’d volunteered for the advisory position or it had been thrust upon him, he looked like he was considering another line of work.