Welcome to those who clicked this story~

My friends and I are dabbling in writing a story. Who knows, this story might actually turn out great. But heck, we'll write as we go along our life known as high school. Now onword to the story!

~~~~~~~~LD~~~~~~~~~

Prologue: He Who Walked Before...

Once, there was a royal alchemist, a proud servant of Areinia. He was undoubtedly a prodigy, and his abilities were the envy of all the court. No matter how ridiculous the request, the alchemist need only snap his fingers, and in an instant, the wish was granted. He was a kind, caring man; his only vice being his work. He was loved by the commoners, hated and envied by his peers. The alchemist was undoubtedly the king's favorite, as well as his adviser.

All was well under the rule of the king, and with the alchemist's voice at his ear, the Areinia and its people prospered. Trade grew, and the kingdom established good relations with its neighbors, as well as developing new technology, and improving the defenses of the kingdoms. Areinia became a world-powerhouse... Until one fateful day, the unthinkable happened: The crown prince fell fatally ill.

The king, desperate to save his son, begged the alchemist to prepare a potion of immortality. But it was not to be. No matter how hard he tried, the alchemist could not create the much-needed elixir. Despite his genius, his years of research, it just wasn't possible. In despair of his first failure, the alchemist went mad...

When the prince died, the royal alchemist was kicked out of the castle by the disgusted and grieving king. Sadly, that only served to further the alchemist's insanity, and very soon, he could be found mixing the strangest things, claiming to be preparing a magical artifact that could grant eternal life: The Philosopher's Stone.

Did he create it? The other royal alchemists denied such a thing. They claimed that it was impossible, that immortality was only a dream, a dream forged by desperation and fear. But of course, they were lying.

But the alchemist, his brilliance shining even in his madness and despair, sought the rarest and most powerful ingredients in the kingdom; mixing them and allowing it to solidify. The finished object was then used to create the potion of immortality; a drink known only as the Hourai.

The alchemist drank the it the second it had been prepared. But he never had time to make another potion. He never had time to. The royal alchemists had heard of his success, and rushed to stop him. They knocked the second beaker of the life-extending drink out of his hand, and grabbed him. Then, ignoring the poor man's curses, pleas, and vows of vengeance, they dragged him to Avon, where they trapped and sealed him. Then, they destroyed the Philosopher's Stone, and disposed of the Hourai, leaving virtually no trace of the incident.

The royal alchemists thought they had it all planned. But they didn't. For several things remained constant: One, the alchemist was still immortal. Time would not touch him, not even in Avon.

And two... What of the alchemist's family? Although the alchemist himself had unreachable levels of talent, his relatives were genuine prodigies as well. And despite the head of their clan's fall from grace, the alchemist's family were proud of their lineage, and continued to practice alchemy, often retrieving the alchemist's old tomes and journals, and passing it on to their offspring.

In time, the seal placed on the alchemist wore away, and one foolish boy broke the seal completely while playing near the sealing stone. The alchemist, realizing that he would never have another chance, rushed out of Avon and took over the boy's body. Once he had assumed control, he began to ponder his future actions, years and years of imprisonment having gifted him with a more controlled form of madness, allowing him to keep his great, analytical mind.

Then, one day, he came to a conclusion. When the royal alchemists of his past had sealed him away, there was one thing he had sworn, one thing he had made sure to never forget. And that was to get revenge. Revenge on the race that had made him such a monster.

For after drinking the elixir, he had changed. He was no longer fully human. Oh, he could die, the alchemist knew. But he could not age, and who could possibly stand against him? After all, he was the greatest of alchemists, and his genius had been restored. Who could kill him? Who would defeat him?

So the alchemist made his decision. He would destroy those living in the kingdom, without mercy, without remorse. He would do as the royal alchemists had done to him. He would pervert those living in the kingdom, torture them until they would think that death would be a blessed escape from the pain.

And then, he would end them. He would end them all.

So he renamed himself Noctis, and sent a plague, a plague that started in the remote regions of the kingdom. And it spread, slowly but surely. There was only one end the disease, but that knowledge had been destroyed around the time that the alchemist was sealed away.

Or so he thought. The Philosopher's Stone, the object that had made him a victim of the Hourai, held the power to save the kingdom from the plague. But the original stone had been thoroughly destroyed, and the recipe long, long lost. And even it was found, what of the ingredients? If it had been hard to find them before, it was impossible now.

... Or was it?

~~~~~~~~LD~~~~~~~~~

Mind dropping us a reveiw/critique? You get cake. :D

Oh, and flames will be used to roast smores.

See you again soon!