He tilted his head, holding her upright against the wall by one
shoulder. "Do you have any sense of self-preservation? I could have
killed you fifty times in this building alone."
Helena couldn't respond. Her eyes were beginning to bulge. Her
heart still worked at least; it was racing inside her chest. Her eyes must
have looked terror-stricken, because he chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't take advantage of you," he said softly in her ear.
His fingers just barely moved and the paralysis on her lungs disap-
peared, but only her lungs.
She drew a ragged breath through her teeth because it was the clos-
est she could get to screaming.
She couldn't find a way to untangle her body from his control,
couldn't even find her own resonance. He'd caught her completely off
guard by making her think he meant to kiss her.
"I'm going to show you something interesting now. I'm told it's one
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336 • SenLinYu
of my special talents." His free hand pressed against her forehead, ob-
scuring her vision.
That was all the warning she got before his resonance pushed into
her mind like a large needle puncturing her skull.
Her body jerked.
She could feel him. His resonance hit the forefront of her conscious-
ness like a bolt of lightning, and her memories sprang up before her
eyes like a zoetrope.
It was as though she was reliving the moment: her shoulders against
the wall, his body leaning in, tilting her face up; then time skipped back
and her hand was pressed against the door; then she was finding her
way through the tenement and the claustrophobic nearness of the
buildings.
Ferron moved deeper into her memory; she watched herself strap-
ping on her medical satchel to head out.
He could read her mind.
She couldn't let this happen.
She struggled, trying to get free, to rip her consciousness out of his
control.
He delved further.
She was in an empty chymistry lab transmuting several rare com-
pounds into an elixir. She coated his ring with it, careful not to disrupt
the mirrored entanglement.
Ferron let go very suddenly, and the paralysis vanished.
Her knees gave out and she slid down the wall, her head throbbing
so violently that she could barely see straight.
"What did you do to my ring?" he asked, standing over her.
"What do you do to me?" she retorted, her voice tremulous.
"It's a trick I learned from Artemon Bennet," he said, stepping away
from her. "He calls it animancy. When we take Resistance fighters alive,
it's not unusual for us to examine their memories. So if you're ever cap-
tured, there's a chance it'll happen to you. Which makes you a liability
for me."
Helena closed her eyes, struggling to compose herself. The Eternal
Flame had no idea such a thing could be done. What kind of defence
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Alchemised • 337
was possible?
"Now, I'll ask again." Ferron's voice was implacably cold. "What did
you do to my ring? Where is it?"
She swallowed, forcing herself to speak steadily. "It's an elixir that's
bonded to the surface. The coating bends light to make things hard to
notice unless you know to look for them."
He crouched and lifted her left hand, his thumb sliding across her
fingers until he found the ring by touch. His eyes narrowed. He tilted
her hand this way and that.
His eyebrows went up.
She could tell he could see the ring again.
He was silent for a long moment. "I've never heard of anything like
this before."
"It was never fully developed."
An eyebrow rose as he met her eyes. "Yours?"
She gave a reluctant nod. "One of my undergraduate projects. Never
got it to work well on things much bigger than this, though. The refrac-
tion grows irregular."
He stood, pulling her to her feet.
She struggled not to flinch away now that she knew what he could
do with that touch.
"I'm not having my cover blown because you're incompetent," Fer-
ron said.
Helena had never been called incompetent in her life, and she bris-
tled. "I wasn't aware that immunity to mind-reading was something you
expected from a war prize."
"It's not mind-reading," Ferron said, looking derisive. "What I did
was simply a minor manipulation of your brain. It might feel as if I've
reached in and seen your thoughts as vividly as if you were reliving
them, but unless I'm being exhaustive and replaying them, there's only
glimpses; most of it is lost in the noise. It's only the things you focus on
that are clear enough to decipher easily. If you're ever caught, don't let
your interrogator trick you into thinking they saw more than they have."
"So, what did you see?" she asked, trying to understand.
He smirked. "Mostly your terror. Disorienting you with fear made
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338 • SenLinYu
you vulnerable. You weren't coherent enough to do anything to resist.
Then it was a blur. The two clarity points were when you were analysing
the door, and the ring. You were so focused on them, you weren't think-
ing about anything else that would have blurred the memories. The
mind is excellent at betraying its priorities."
So an interrogator couldn't see everything, just all the important
things. Lovely.
"What do I do, to protect myself ?" She hated that she had to ask
him. "How are you expecting me to prevent that?"
"An interrogator won't stop until they have valuable information. If
you're captured, there's nothing you'll be able to do to stop it, but if they
think you're weak they won't look carefully. You have to give up some-
thing valuable enough that it seems legitimate as a way to keep the
things that matter most hidden."
She considered this, still leaning against the wall because she wasn't
sure her legs would hold her.
"Think about it. Choose something. If I'm looking for information
about the Eternal Flame or Holdfast, what can you give up that would
seem like the biggest secret you have? Using resonance on the mind like
that is like setting someone's house on fire. Minds instinctively bolt to
protect what's most important to hide. You have to train yourself to do
the reverse. Focus on what doesn't matter. And remember, whatever you
think they saw, unless you draw attention or they're being extremely
thorough, they only glimpsed. Don't focus on it."
She nodded slowly. "All right."
"I'm going test you again next week. Be ready for it."
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CHAPTER 27
Februa 1786
When Helena told Crowther what Ferron was capable
of, he had her removed from all the Eternal Flame's meetings and cut
off from any information regarding Luc's whereabouts.
Everyone assumed it was due to a mysterious "breakdown" which
was being whispered about. This was convenient for Crowther but ren-
dered Helena even more of a pariah than usual.
She was relieved when Ferron calmly invited her in the next time
rather than accosting her before she'd made it through the door.
The tenement was depressingly drab. Clearly there hadn't been much
concern about the workers living in comfort back when the factories
had been running.
"Ready?" he asked, stepping towards her and slipping a black leather
glove off.
Helena clenched her own bare hands, feeling the texture of the scar
across her palm as she nodded.
He didn't paralyse her this time. He simply pressed his palm against
her forehead. She couldn't hold back her gasp.
Her eyes rolled back so violently, she could feel the strain down her
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340 • SenLinYu
optic nerves.
Despite knowing what was coming, her mind baulked, panicking,
instantly swerving her focus onto things she didn't want to focus on.
Crowther's office. His shadowed face.
She forced her attention away.
Luc.
Crowther had cleared her to use the last Eternal Flame meeting
she'd attended as a distraction.
They'd been discussing the new method for taking out the liches and
Undying, and what they should do with the talismans they'd retrieved.
Luc's unit had brought several back.
The resonance through her mind abruptly stopped, and she stood
swaying, trying to force her eyes back into focus, her thoughts swirling.
"Better than I expected," she dimly heard Ferron saying. "Unfortu-
nately, it won't only happen once."
His resonance sliced through her again.
It was worse the second time, like having a wound reopened, ripped
larger. It was harder to think.
When Ferron finally let go, Helena felt as though her skull were
about to split in two.
Her eyes were welling up with tears, and she bit down savagely on
her lip, her chest stuttering as she fought to breathe.
The room swam, threatening to disappear. She swayed, feeling
blindly for the wall.
"Drink this." A vial of something was shoved into her hand. "Other-
wise you may black out."
She took it and swallowed, doubting that Ferron would poison her,
but if he did, she wasn't sure she'd mind. Her skull throbbed as though
there was a drum inside it.
Mouth-numbingly bitter pain relief washed across her tongue. She
nearly spat it back into the vial as she realised that he'd given her lauda-
num for a headache. Did he have any idea how limited opium supplies
were in the North?
But it was already in her mouth, so she swallowed.
When she reopened her eyes, the room had a soft luminous quality.
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Alchemised • 341
She blinked at the way it softened the edges of everything, including
Ferron.
"Did this happen to you?" she asked, her tongue sluggish. He was
Undying; she didn't know if they got headaches. Or even slept.
"More than once," he said. "My training was rigorous."
She nodded. It was strange how untouched by the war he looked. Yet
when she forced herself to look past his appearance, there was an eerie,
dangerous stillness about him.
"Why?" she asked.
He stared down his nose at her, eyes growing hard. "To see if I'd be
better than my father, or if I'd break under interrogation, too."
She had never thought about what had been done to Atreus Ferron
after his arrest. Everyone knew that he'd confessed; she'd always as-
sumed it had been voluntary.
"Was that— before you killed Principate Apollo?"
Ferron stared at her, his mouth twisting. "Are you wanting a confes-
sion? Shall I tell you everything I've done?"
She stared into his mocking eyes. "Do you want to?"
There was a flash of surprise that softened his features for an instant.
He was lonely.
She'd suspected that he might be. Ever since Crowther had told her
about the circumstances of his parents' marriage, she'd reevaluated all
her vague memories of Ferron at the Institute. She couldn't remember
him having friends. He'd associated with the other guild students, but
he'd hadn't spent much time with any particular individuals. If he had,
they would have been inundated with questions and accusations after
the murder. The students in their year had all said things like, "I roomed
with him last year, but he barely talked," and "We were partners in alloy
fusion, but he always did assignments alone."
If he'd been raised on ancestral ambition and little else, always being
watched for signs of weakness or vivimancy, he'd probably never had
anyone he could risk trusting. Now in war, the stakes had only grown.
He'd lived among immortal men all consumed by their own desire
for power and vengeance. He couldn't possibly risk trusting anyone.
"Why would I want to tell you anything?" he asked viciously, step-
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342 • SenLinYu
ping away from her.
She didn't press the issue. She didn't need to know.
She only needed him to realise he wanted to tell someone—
— that he wanted to tell her.
That would make her emotionally valuable to him. It would make
her interesting enough that he'd begin to let his guard down.
"Did you want to go again?" she asked after a moment, hoping to
impress him.
Instead, he stood. "They used to torture me while Bennet did it.
Called it practice—in case I got caught." His mouth twisted into a
sneer. "But it was an excuse. He enjoys it, how it feels to be inside a
mind when it's screaming. If you're ever caught, that's what he'll do to
you."
He didn't wait for her to respond, just tossed an envelope too quick
for her to catch, walking out before it hit the floor.
Helena was on shift in the casualty ward when Ilva Holdfast and
Falcon Mathias appeared with four girls trailing behind them.
"Healer Marino, we've realised that you're under undue strain as our
only healer," Ilva said with a completely unreadable expression while
Matias was droning on about sacred duty, pronouncing an invocation
and draping sunstone amulets around the necks of the four girls. "Fal-
con Matias was divinely led to these four. He has interviewed them
extensively to verify the sincerity of their faith and the pure intention of
their souls. It will be your sacred duty to guide them as they learn to
provide Sol's intercession."
There was a pause, Helena didn't know what to say. When the silence
grew painful, she forced herself to nod mutely. Crowther had said there
were others who could replace her as healer. She hadn't expected four.
Mathias had always overruled the idea of new healers. It seemed
Helena's outburst convinced him that any quantity of healers would be
better than Helena.
Although the girls were her trainees, Helena was not expected to do
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Alchemised • 343
all the teaching. Matron Pace was also assigned to provide the newcom-
ers with basic medical training. Helena refrained from pointing out that
this process would create the very same hybrid of medicine and healing
that Matias had always objected to Helena openly utilising.
Matron Pace was already reviewing the hospital security protocols
with the trainees, stressing that every patient brought in had to be
checked for reanimation before they could be treated. It could be a dif-
ficult to determine in victims that had died recently, but every single
one had to be vetted twice, once by the guards upon intake and then by
a medic or nurse. Any patients not double-marked with clearance had
to be approached with extreme caution; they could be a necrothrall or,
even more insidiously, a lich.
Helena tuned out the lecture, resisting the urge to touch the scar on
the side of her throat. She'd heard the warning repeated so many times
she'd lost count, but every time she did, she wanted to plunge her face
into a bucket of ice water and scream.
She knew she should be glad that there'd be more healers, but in-
stead a knot formed in her stomach as she studied each girl.
These were her replacements, because her job as healer was now sec-
ondary to her function and purpose as Ferron's possession.
The knowledge sat like a live coal inside her.
One of the trainees stepped forward, extending her hand, then
catching sight of Helena's gloved hand, she bobbed in awkward curtsy
instead.
"You're Marino, I know. This is Marta Rumly, Claire Reibeck, and
Anne Stoffle. I'm Elain Boyle."
In less than a week, Helena was tired of all her trainees. They did not
adapt to their new posts once they began to realise that healing was not
an illustrious rank.
Claire and Anne both would barely even try to form a resonance
channel. Marta didn't like getting her hands dirty. Elain Boyle was eager
to learn but kept trying to heal dead patients.
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344 • SenLinYu
They were all prone to thinking that just because they could "feel"
how to do something that it would naturally be right, and when cor-
rected, rather than seek answers, they acted like baby birds, waiting pas-
sively, heads gaping, expecting her to hurry over and stuff the relevant
knowledge inside. Being proactive or looking for answers themselves
never seemed to occur to them, always waiting to be told what to learn
or do.
She couldn't stop thinking resentfully about them when she returned
to the Outpost. Ferron seemed to notice her distraction; he caught her
chin, tilting her head back so that their eyes met.
She was keyed up in anticipation for his mental invasion, but instead
she felt his resonance, a sensation as insubstantial as spider silk, flicker
through her nerves. What was he—
His palm was pressed against her forehead, and she had scarcely
time to refocus before her mind was split open and it was all she could
do to keep her thoughts of the trainees away from him, trying to keep
her focus on the repetitive parts of her life that he found unremarkable.
For all he knew, she spent her days performing inventory, reviewing
medical forms, and washing her hands.
When it was finally over, he studied her with an expression she
couldn't place. Rather than step away, he moved closer.
She went stiff, forcing herself look up at his face so that she wouldn't
focus on the physicality of him. His bare fingers touched her chin
lightly, tilting her head back so that her throat was bared.
She felt his resonance again.
Was he testing her, trying to see if she could feel it?
"Remind me, what was your repertoire?" he asked softly.
"Broad," she said, knowing not to lie—the Guild Assembly might
have access to her immigration records. "That's why the Institute ac-
cepted me. There were a few rare compounds that I couldn't pass with,
but for the most part, my resonance is broad-spectrum."
He tilted his head to one side, still unnervingly close. "What were
you going for?"
"I hadn't decided."
He gripped her chin. "You were two years into your undergraduate
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Alchemised • 345
studies. How had you not decided?"
"Luc wanted to travel, and he wanted me to go with him. I thought
I could choose afterwards."
His hand dropped away, resonance vanishing.
"Of course. You must have thought you were so special, being Hold-
fast's little pet." He cast her a sidelong look as he withdrew an envelope
and held it out with a smirk. "Look at you now."
The scars on her palm itched as she took it.
The envelope bore the same name as always. "Who's Aurelia In-
gram?"
He gave a dismissive shake of his head. "No one." Then he laughed.
"Someone my father contracted me to marry when I was—nine. The
guild's pushing for it. They're worried about what will happen should I
be prematurely consumed by fire."
"But you're— " She hesitated, finding the word bizarre to use in con-
versation. "— immortal."
"In a way." He rolled his eyes. "But I could still lose my body at some
point. They'd like me to have an heir just in case. My betrothed has re-
cently come of age, but I visited her once, and I have no intention of
ever doing so again. I keep meaning to write her letters, but somehow,"
he finished, smirking, "they all go astray."
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CHAPTER 28
Martius 1786
As much as Helena hated it, she had to admit that Ferron's
training was doing something, although perhaps not what he'd in-
tended.
His repeated invasions had awakened in her a newfound sense of her
own mental landscape. It reminded her of when she'd first realised she
was a vivimancer, as if her resonance could suddenly reach something
wholly unfamiliar.
Ferron's resonance through her mind made her conscious of an en-
ergy there which she could manipulate.
She wasn't sure if she'd always had the ability and simply didn't no-
tice, or if it was the "animancy" Ferron had mentioned. It wasn't as if she
could ask.
As far as Ferron was concerned, Helena was only learning to con-
centrate.
However, she'd realised that she could supplement her focus with
her resonance, pushing away her thoughts, rerouting her mind down
preferred paths. At first, she practised it simply for their meetings, but
she found herself using it constantly at Headquarters, too, pushing away
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Alchemised • 347
all the thoughts and feelings eating at her.
After another test, Ferron stepped away from her, glancing outside
one of the dirty windows. There was barely a view; the Outpost was
crowded, but there was a sliver of sky visible in the direction of the is-
lands. He stared towards it. The white, overcast sky was stained with
smoke.
He looked at her. "There's always smoke rising from your Headquar-
ters. It's from the crematorium, isn't it?"
Helena said nothing, but his guess was right. They were constantly
burning the dead.
"How many soldiers do you have left?"
Helena's mouth went dry. That was one of the Eternal Flame's great-
est concerns: that the Undying would realise how exhausted the Resis-
tance ranks were. That one brutal push might be enough to wipe them
out entirely.
She said nothing.
Ferron stood silhouetted by the window's pale light. "How much
longer do you think you all can keep fighting?"
That, she could answer. "Until there's no one left. There's no surren-
dering for us."
"Good to know," he said softly, looking back at the smoke.
The hospital had been running on fumes for months, so short on
supplies that any smuggled in from Novis seemed to instantly evapo-
rate.
"We're completely out of gauze, and we used the last of the opium
resin last week," Pace said as she and Helena stood together in the
nearly empty supply room. "The Council wants to use the new healers
to cover for the shortage, but they're not anywhere near reliable."
Even without a war, opium products were often in short supply. The
dual moon tides limited sea trade from the Ortus regions for most of
the year, except during the summer ebb, when Lumithia was in Abey-
ance and the sea separating the continents briefly calmed. The rest of
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348 • SenLinYu
the year, supply caravans had to circumnavigate the sea—a journey
which could often take half a year and resulted in prohibitive prices.
The Eternal Flame needed far more than just opium. They needed
more food, medicine, clothing, and bandages. Anything not made of
metal or transmutable materials was in desperately short supply. If the
Resistance couldn't regain control of the ports before the summer trade
influx, they'd be starved into submission before the next winter.
"The floodings won't be so bad for a little while," Helena said. "I can
find sphagnum outside of the city, and that'll help with the gauze short-
age at least. Lots of willow this time of year, too."
Pace nodded, still staring at the empty shelves. "It'd be something, at
least."
Without clean, sterile gauze and bandages, injuries would get in-
fected, recovery would be slower, the risk of disease and contagious in-
fections would rise. Even with five healers providing pain relief, their
support would come at the cost of other healing they could be doing.
As Helena headed out towards the wetlands in the early morning,
she caught sight of Luc and Lila in the commons, armed to the teeth
and sparring. She hadn't even heard they were back again.
She'd been sleeping on a camp bed in in Pace's office. Pain was often
the worst for patients at night.
She paused a moment to watch.
Luc preferred fighting in the traditional Holdfast style that involved
an enormous flaming sword that he could transmute into two smaller
flaming swords. He was exceptional with fire alchemy. White flames
bright as the sun fanned out around him like wings, making his blue
eyes glow like sapphires, and even the gauntness of his features some-
how made him look more ethereal.
His power really did seem otherworldly.
Helena knew it wasn't; in fact, she probably knew more about how it
worked than he did. While Luc had a natural talent for pyromancy, he
lacked both patience and interest when it came to the science. As a
student, he used to rely on Helena to make sense of the theory sections
of his homework.
Pyromancy was more varied than metal transmutation. A pyro-
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Alchemised • 349
mancer in combat needed to be able to rapidly improvise without hesi-
tation or miscalculation based on numerous variables—wind, enclosed
space, target distances, oxygen levels.
She watched Luc's fingers, mentally calculating which techniques
and array sourcing he was using. He was so fast, she could barely keep
up.
Because basic projectiles had negligible effect on necrothralls or the
Undying, most fighting was either incendiary or close-range.
"Hel!" Luc's voice split the early morning as he stopped short, wav-
ing her over.
Luc grinned as she neared. He was all in white, wearing just his
amiantos under- armour to keep his clothes from singeing. His face was
glistening from the heat. "How was I?"
Her lips pursed.
He laughed. "You can be honest."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're overusing oxygen. It's a bad habit. It
can be dangerous if you're in an enclosed space," she said.
Luc scrubbed his forehead. "I know, I'm trying to extend the accu-
racy of my reach, but I can't keep it stable without losing control of how
much air it takes."
Helena gnawed on the inside of her lip. "Which formula are you
using?"
Luc grimaced. "I don't know, haven't written out an array in ages. Just
do it in my head. You know, what feels right."
"You could probably work it out if you actually wrote it down," she
said, giving him a pointed look.
He got a sly gleam in his eyes. "Well, maybe I will if you'll look at it.
We're about to go on break anyway, and I hear you've got trainees now,
which means there's no excuses left. It's next time. Come on. I'll set
something on fire if you try to say no."
She exhaled. "I was actually on my way to—"
The sky above them burst into flames with a crackling roar, drown-
ing out her words.
"Sorry, you were saying?" Luc asked.
"You should come, Hel," Lila said as she mopped her face with a
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350 • SenLinYu
towel. "Luc's been going on about this new thing he's doing for weeks,
and none of us has any idea what he's talking about."
Helena's heart quickened, and she dared a smile. "I guess I have to
help then."
"You guess," Luc grumbled as he wrapped an arm around her shoul-
ders and pulled her along with them all. "You should be delighted. I'm
delightful."
Helena laughed.
She had no idea what had him in such a good mood, but she was
glad of it. Kaine Ferron was a small price to pay if it meant there were
moments like this again.
"Marino."
Crowther's voice was like a knife through her back.
She flinched, freezing in her tracks.
Crowther was standing behind them in the corridor. "Marino, I need
to discuss the hospital inventory sheet you turned in last night," he said,
gesturing in the opposite direction.
Luc spoke first, his voice unusually cool. "I'm sure it can wait, Jan. I
need Hel for something."
"I apologise, Principate, but it cannot," Crowther said, his voice was
mild, but his eyes were boring a hole through Helena. "It's a matter of
some urgency."
Helena started to speak, but Luc squeezed her shoulder and smiled,
all teeth. "Sorry. I need her."
Crowther's eyebrows rose. "Are you injured?"
Luc stiffened. "No. She's helping me with something related to py-
romancy."
Everything about Crowther seemed to sharpen, like a cat extending
its claws, but he bowed. "If you require help with your pyromancy, I
would be more than happy to advise. I was personally trained by your
family."
"I'll certainly keep that in mind," Luc said in a tone of false civility.
"I am always at the service of the Principate," Crowther said, inclin-
ing his head. "And as such, I must insist that Marino come with me. The
matter of inventory may sound trivial, but it is of vital importance that
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Alchemised • 351
the hospital is properly equipped; it can make the difference between
life or death for our soldiers." His gaze flicked to Lila, then Soren, then
Alister, and onwards, resting on each one of them, as if to insinuate that
Luc was choosing Helena's companionship over their lives.
Luc stood, silent. Helena could feel his rising resentment, a pressure
growing in the air.
A standoff like this could only hurt the Resistance. Ferron's spying
would be of little use if Luc disregarded information from Crowther
out of dislike.
"He's right, I should go. Sorry, Luc," she said as she stepped away.
She looked back. "Next time."
Lila's eyebrows were drawn together, but she didn't speak. It wasn't a
paladin's place to speak in situation like this. Soren looked resigned but
unsurprised, as Lila noticed; she cast a sharp, interrogative look at her
twin.
Luc forced a smile. "Of course. I'm holding you to that."
When they'd gone, leaving Helena alone with Crowther, his vaguely
congenial expression vanished as he looked at her.
"You are a known advocate for necromancy with entirely conditional
clearance now. Whatever allowances Ilva has permitted in the past,
consider them all revoked until you have results that would make the
effort of rehabilitating you worth it."
Crowther's words were still ringing in her ears as she set out for the
wetlands. There was heavy fog hanging over the river, bringing with it a
cold that penetrated to the bones, but there was no smell of blood or
miasma, no smoke filling her lungs. Even before the war, being outside
within the city never really felt like being outside.
The wetlands were too flooded to traverse, and she was forced to for-
age along the banks. There was a large copse of willows just below the
dam.
Willow bark was best before the sap began to run. While its efficacy
paled against laudanum, it could provide some minor pain relief and
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352 • SenLinYu
was also good for reducing inflammation, for managing fevers, and as a
disinfectant for wounds. They were getting dangerously low on antisep-
tic too.
She harvested ruthlessly, leaving all the stripped branches behind. It
was mindless and frigid work.
She had no idea what Crowther expected of her. She didn't know
how to make progress with Ferron. She'd expected the mission to be
awful but straightforward, but Ferron gave her no opportunities to do
anything.
She slit open a thick willow shoot with the tip of her harvesting
knife, exposing the white wood beneath and removing the bark with a
quick sweep of her arm.
The sound of one of the floodgates opening was almost lost amid the
rush of water. A hinge shrieked, startling the marsh birds which burst
out of the winter grass.
Helena dropped to the ground on instinct.
Cold mud seeped through her clothes as she peered across the water.
The fog was slowly rising with the light, and she could just make out the
upper tip of the West Island across the flooded wetlands and river chan-
nels. She didn't think she was in danger, but she knew better than to
allow herself to be seen.
The floodgates were connected to an intricate tunnel system which
led into cavernous flood cathedrals beneath the West Island. As she
watched, several necrothralls appeared through the mouth of the open
floodgate, dragging a large box by chains.
Behind the necrothralls came several people in black or dark-grey
uniforms.
One man waved a hand, and the necrothralls simultaneously pulled
long bolts from the top of the box, causing one side to fall open.
Helena watched with fascinated horror as a creature crawled out
from inside.
It was larger than a dog, and pinkish like a pig, except its shape was
wrong. It had catlike legs and a long, flattened body, but the head was
the most grotesque. Reptilian. Flat, with a snout so elongated so that
the creature struggled to hold it out of the way as it crept forward. There
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Alchemised • 353
were massive jutting teeth curving out of both the upper and lower jaws.
Helena's mouth went dry. She knew what it was, but it was impos-
sible.
Like homunculi, chimaeras were one of Cetus's prescientific alchem-
ical myths.
But she couldn't deny what she saw with her own eyes.
One of the men in black waved a hand, and a necrothrall stepped
into the creature's path.
Teeth flashed as the mutated body lunged, moving impossibly fast.
The necrothrall went down, and the creature used its hooked teeth to
peel the greyish skin off the limbs. The necrothrall continued trying to
stand until the over-large jaws ripped the head off.
Helena's fingers shook as she buckled the straps of her satchel and
began to crawl slowly away, trying to keep hidden.
The men across the water were all in conversation together, watching
the monster as it ate the necrothrall. As a group, they turned and reen-
tered the floodgate tunnel, leaving the creature behind, a pale and mon-
strous sentinel crouched on the bank.
Helena watched from across the water as the monster wandered
along the shore with short, disproportionate steps. It struggled to move
and stayed out of the water, sticking to the bank.
Helena resumed crawling, not wanting to find out if the chimaera
could swim. Her hands had turned purplish grey from the cold. She
rubbed them together rapidly, trying clumsily to use her resonance to
bring warmth back into her fingertips.
She was just crossing the bridge, able to see the gate and checkpoint,
when a searing heat encased her hand, so painfully hot she almost
screamed.
The heat instantly faded.
She looked down, realising what it was. The skin around her left ring
finger had a red tinge to it, and when she tilted her hand, the ring reap-
peared for an instant.
It burned again.
She nearly ripped it off. With her hands so cold, the heat was excru-
ciating.
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354 • SenLinYu
Bastard. There was no reason to make the ring that warm unless he
thought she had nerve impairment.
He was probably summoning her to tell her about the chimaera,
which she already knew about. Her bag was heavy, and she was freezing,
and all she wanted to do was get back to Headquarters.
But Ferron wouldn't know that she already knew. She turned reluc-
tantly and headed for the Outpost.
She arrived first. She'd known she would, but it was still irritating
to be so cold and forced to wait. She was barely able to get the door
open.
She took off her cloak and then peeled off her jacket, wringing out
the sleeves so that marsh water trickled out, then she twisted at the
extra fabric of her shirtsleeves, trying to make them slightly drier. Her
boots squelched every time she moved, and her toes were numb.
The door finally swung open, revealing Ferron, whose eyes instantly
narrowed at the sight of Helena.
"What are you doing?" he asked, eyes following the trickle of the
muddy water Helena was squeezing onto the floor.
"I was wet."
Irritation flashed across his face, but Helena was beyond caring. She
shook her jacket so that it snapped. "So, chimaeras. Is there more than
the one?" When he didn't answer, she looked up.
His eyebrows were drawn together. "You're already aware." There was
crisp irritation in his voice.
She nodded. "I saw it."
The most indescribable expression passed across his face. "You saw
it? How?"
"I was down in the wetlands when they set it loose."
"You were in the barrens?"
She'd always hated that name for it.
"Yes. I go there for medical supplies. There's a lot to forage, it's—"
She hesitated. "—it's good in a pinch. Is there only one chimaera?"
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Alchemised • 355
Ferron refused to return to the matter at hand. "This is something
you do often?"
"Well, it's seasonal. There's not much I can get during heavy flooding
but— " Helena paused at Ferron's stunned expression.
She sighed impatiently. "I mentioned that I do this every Saturnis
and Martiday. I was out today getting some extra."
"No . . ." Ferron said slowly, a dangerous edge to his voice. His pos-
ture was still casual, but his tone gave him away. "You said you were
getting medical supplies. I assumed that meant meeting a smuggler in
the city."
"Why would the Eternal Flame send me to meet a smuggler? I'm
getting medicinal plants; it helps stretch the supply."
He flicked his hand towards her. "Alone?"
"Obviously," Helena said. "That's why we can meet after I finish.
How have you not realised this? You're constantly crawling through my
memories."
"Your mind is considerably less interesting than you imagine. Why
would I pay attention to the frivolous things you do on the way here?"
It was almost funny how blindsided he was.
"Tell Crowther to come up with some other excuse for you coming
out of the city," he finally said. "You come here, and you go back. I'm not
risking my cover having you crawl through a marsh for a few weeds."
Helena stood, stunned with indignation. "You—you can't do that."
His expression hardened and now he moved, finally, stalking her
across the room. "Actually, I can. Have you forgotten? I own you."
"Yes," she said, refusing to back down; she'd done enough bending
and complying that day. "But you also gave your word not to interfere
with my responsibilities to the Eternal Flame. Foraging is part of my
work. I've been doing it for years. If you want to control everything I do,
you can wait until we win."
Ferron stood glaring at her for several seconds, and she was afraid
that he'd go over her head, contact Crowther, and force an alternative.
Crowther would do it. She just knew. Anything to make Ferron
happy.
Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest, praying he wouldn't call her
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356 • SenLinYu
bluff.
He stepped back, eyes steely. "Fine. Then tell me, how are you pro-
tected out there? What weapons do they have you carrying? I want to
see if they'll work on the chimaeras."
He held out a gloved hand. Helena stared at it. Despite her still-
numb hands, heat crawled across the back of her neck and a lump rose
in her throat.
She swallowed. "It's—um, not like that," she said awkwardly, trying
to sidle past him.
"Not like what?"
"I don't— have an issued weapon. They pulled me from combat be-
fore I qualified. When you only work in Headquarters, you don't—" She
gestured at her clothes. "I forage as a civilian."
His eyebrows rose. "You're travelling through the city and out into
the barrens alone and unarmed?"
Helena squirmed. It sounded much worse than it was. She had vivi-
mancy, but she couldn't tell him that. It also didn't help that her trips
weren't officially sanctioned.
Pace knew. Crowther knew. Matias, her actual superior, did not.
Helena didn't want to give him the chance to forbid her from making
medicine for some reason.
She tried to make it sound more reasonable. "If I had an issued
weapon, that would put me in even more danger if I were apprehended."
"You can't be serious," he said in flat disbelief.
"I have a harvesting knife."
He blinked slowly. "And what could you do with that thing?"
She lifted her chin. "We all did the basic combat training at the In-
stitute. I still know the forms; they work with or without transmuta-
tion."
He looked her up and down. "And when did you last practice them?"
She averted her eyes. "I don't know, I don't keep track of things like
that." She shoved the knife back into her satchel, her fingers stayed
wrapped around the handle, its varnish worn away but the wood smooth
from use. "I'm rather busy."
"Well, now I know what I'm doing with you next," he said with a
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Alchemised • 357
sigh. "I thought your mind would be the biggest danger to me, but it
turns out you're somehow still a walking liability. I'm not wasting my
time training a new contact after all the time I've wasted on you."
Helena sighed. "It's not necessary. No one's ever bothered me."
Ferron raised an eyebrow. "You think there's only going to be one
chimaera out there? Bennet's been working on this project for years.
Now that he's cracked it, he'll have the barrens and low districts overrun
with the creatures. What you saw is one of the early prototypes."
"Tell us how to kill them, then," she said sharply. "We're not going to
give up food and medicine because you psychopaths decided to set
monsters loose everywhere."
She was already being pulled in so many directions, she couldn't
stand to think about having to add combat training.
"Obviously, I'll be working on that," he said through gritted teeth,
"That's why I called you here, to let you know to be alert for them. If
you're going out there, you have to be trained."
Helena gave an exasperated huff, turning towards the door. "Then
I'll drill at Headquarters."
She unlocked the door as he spoke again.
"You don't want me to train you?" His voice had turned slippery and
dangerous. "Why not? I'd think you'd prefer to fill our time with train-
ing rather than with some of the other activities I could demand."
Helena stopped short and looked back. He was cornering her.
He must have realised that she was supposed to seduce him, even if
he didn't have any idea of her vivimancy. Damn it all.
"Fine," she snapped. "You can train me."
She knew already that whatever physical training he chose would
probably be even worse than the mental training he'd already subjected
her to. Combat training hardly seemed the context in which to evoke a
sense of obsessive want.
Violent want was more likely.
There was a dull pounding in her head. She could feel Luc being
pulled further and further from reach. All light in her life disappearing.
"You look so bitter." Ferron's mocking voice drew her back. His eyes
glittered. "You'd think I just demanded you fuck me rather than not.
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358 • SenLinYu
Disappointed?"
Slow rage was seeping through her. "Do you always buy your com-
pany?"
It was only a guess, but Ferron seemed the type. Guild families with
a tradition of resonance-based marriages had reputations for wandering
into the beds of others. Marriage among the guilds was as much a busi-
ness arrangement as the silk entertainment houses on the West Island.
Ferron's eyes gleamed. "I admit, I enjoy the professionalism," he said
with a shrug. "Clear lines. No expectations. And I don't have to pretend
I care." His lip curled at the last word, as though caring were the most
offensive concept known to man.
"Of course. How very you."
"Quite," he agreed with a thin smile.
She wished she could hurt him, that there was a way for her to do it
that counted.
He hurt her so much, without even trying, without needing to know
anything about her. He'd simply spoken her name and reduced her to
property, his whims locking an iron chain around her throat.
"Do you talk to them, tell them all about the tragic life you've had?
Or are you just in and out, quick as you can?" she asked, her voice lilting
with the taunt.
His eyes flashed.
"Want me to show you?" His voice was sharp and cold as a splinter
of ice.
She met his eyes and raised her chin. "You won't."
His expression hardened. She knew that she could goad him if she
kept going.
She'd finally get it over with, stop enduring Crowther and Ilva's
search for signs that she'd been ravished or ravaged. Stop lying awake at
night cold with dread, wondering when it would finally happen. She
was sick of waiting. Of wondering on and on. Like bracing for a sword
to fall.
She kept talking. "It would be too real for you, wouldn't it? If it was
someone you knew. I think that's why you haven't. You're afraid I'll mess
with those clear lines, so you're making up all these excuses about need-
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Alchemised • 359
ing to train me."
The muscle in his jaw rippled.
"Testing me, Marino?" His voice was cool, like the flat side of a knife
blade.
She didn't blink. "Yes. I am."
There. She'd done it now.
He walked towards her across that cold, filthy room, and rather than
quicken, her heart slowed. Each beat heavy, drawn out as he leaned
forward until their eyes were level.
"Strip."
It was all he said.
She couldn't move.
She knew she was supposed to do whatever he wanted. That was the
deal she'd made. And she'd wanted it to be over, but now her body
wouldn't obey.
She stood frozen. The tenement was nothing but an empty room
with a chipped tile floor and a wooden table, and every aspect of Ferron
that she could read screamed that he was about to exact a profound
degree of cruelty upon her.
"I see now." He smiled like a wolf. All teeth. "It's been killing you,
hasn't it? Wondering. You expected me to do this to you right off. The
waiting— trying to guess when I might get around to it—that bothers
you more than having to fuck me. Well, you have your wish. Take your
clothes off, Marino."
She barely managed to swallow. Her ears were ringing until she
could scarcely hear herself think.
He wasn't even aroused. She could tell. He was doing it to teach her
a lesson.
Crowther was wrong. He was so desperate to get some kind of lever-
age on Ferron, he'd convinced himself of some kind of slowly germinat-
ing obsession, but there wasn't any. Ferron had simply identified what
Crowther wanted to believe about him.
The whole mission was pointless.
Her jaw began to tremble uncontrollably. "You don't even want me.
Why did you ask for me?"
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360 • SenLinYu
He laughed. "You're right, I don't want you, but owning you will
never get old. As long as you live. What a promise to make. I wonder how
much I can make you regret it." His teeth flashed again. "Take your
clothes off, Marino. It's time to see what I've been paying for."
Her hands trembled as she reached up began unfastening the top
button of her shirt.
"It's power that gets you off, isn't it?" Her voice shook with rage as
she forced herself to move down to the next button. "Hurting people is
the only way you know how to feel anything. But now, even that barely
does it for you, so you have to find new ways to do it, make your victims
responsible for their pain; making it a choice they made, a vow they
consented to. That's what thrills you now. Using what people care about
to coerce and enslave them rather than having to do the physical work
of hurting." She scoffed in his face. "You think you're better than us
because you're immortal, but you're dead inside already."
She said it despite knowing he'd probably enjoy her attempt at bra-
vado, because she wanted to say it at least once. He didn't laugh at her
words, though; instead the malice in Ferron's expression vanished.
He stood there staring at her, growing paler and paler.
Then, something metal inside of the walls of the tenement groaned
and the air hummed. Helena could feel Ferron's resonance in the room,
an uncontrolled surge of energy distorting the room. This was one of the
many reasons alchemists were dangerous. When they lost control, their
resonance could expand beyond them. It was a combat technique, but
without stability and control, it could annihilate anything within their
repertoire.
And Ferron was a vivimancer, which meant Helena was within his
repertoire. She could feel his resonance in her bones.
Her skin vibrated. A thrum ran through her heart.
Ferron's expression contorted into one of pure rage. "Get out!"
She didn't move, terrified that in an instant she'd be atomised.
He snarled and turned away from her, and the door warped, the
sharp sound of metal and mechanisms splintering as it folded in on it-
self and split apart, writhing as if alive.
"Get out!"
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Alchemised • 361
Helena did not need further invitation. She bolted through the door,
leaping across the wreckage and fleeing down the stairs so fast, she
slammed into the landing wall. She shoved herself back to her feet and
fled the Outpost.
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CHAPTER 29
Martius 1786
Helena was still gasping for breath, a stabbing pain in her
side, as she was taken to Ilva's office to report on what she'd seen in the
wetlands.
Ilva sat across from Helena at her desk, a fountain pen clasped in her
fingers as Helena gasped out the information.
"I thought chimaeras were a transmutational impossibility," Ilva said
calmly when Helena finished.
"That's what I was taught," Helena said.
"And Ferron says there will be more?" Ilva's expression was difficult
to read.
Helena almost flinched at the name but nodded. "It was just the
beginning, he said."
Ilva hummed under her breath, her pale eyes distant.
When Luc was at the front lines, he abdicated his other responsi-
bilities as Principate to Ilva, not realising how ruthless she was in mak-
ing whatever choices protected him alone.
Helena had liked that about her. When Ilva had first taken an inter-
est in Helena, Helena had been flattered, seeing herself and Ilva as kin-
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Alchemised • 363
dred in a cause, because they were both fully willing to make hard
choices for Luc's sake.
She'd thought they were partners.
"How are things progressing with Ferron?" Ilva asked as Helena
started to stand.
Helena stilled, sinking back into the chair, fingernails digging against
the punctures in her palm. "He's quite—mercurial."
Ilva just hummed again. The strained expression she'd worn when
the offer had been presented had vanished. Ilva seemed at peace with
her choice now.
"Hopefully the new healers free you to focus."
Helena's throat closed, her knuckles whitening at the insinuation
that the healers were for her benefit.
"I'm sure they will be a great help," she said with false smile.
"Although— the initial training does take up quite a bit of time."
Lines of tension appeared in the wrinkles around Ilva's eyes.
"I'm sure you know about the shortages in the hospital inventory.
Usually, when I have time off, I try to help supplement the hospital's
inventory— "
"Oh yes, Pace has mentioned it . . ." Ilva said slowly. "Your father had
that— little apothecary in the low district, didn't he?"
Helena gave a startled nod. Given that her father's medical licensing
hadn't been recognised as legitimate in Paladia, the apothecary hadn't
been categorically legal. Medicine, like everything else in Paladia pre-
war, was industrialised, modernised, and licensed, which rooted out
would- be charlatans but had a tendency to raise prices. An amount
considered trivial in the upper districts could be a month's or a year's
wages in the water slums.
An unlicensed tincture might not be even half as effective, but it did
have the added benefit of not sending the invalid and their family into
debtor's prison.
"He was a doctor, though, wasn't he?" Ilva looked sincerely curious.
"Yes. He trained in Khem, manual surgery and medicine. He and my
mother ran a surgery and apothecary together in our village before I was
born."
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364 • SenLinYu
Ilva inclined her head. "Is that why you studied so much chymistry?
I was on the board approving your scholarship every year. We used to
wonder when we reviewed your transcripts. It seemed an odd choice
considering your repertoire. You used it to help him during the sum-
mers, didn't you?"
Helena froze. Working as an underaged, unlicensed chymist in an
illegal apothecary was not within the Institute's student code of con-
duct.
Ilva waved a dismissive hand. "It's all in the past, Marino. You're not
going to be deported right now for a six-year- old violation of labour
law. Really, it's an example of Sol's providence that you have all these
skills."
Her saliva turned sour; she stared at her hands. "Thank you." She
swallowed. "Um, due to the shortages, I've been trying to help where I
can. I've been extracting salicin from willow bark; it can act as a stopgap
for a few things until Novis sends more." Her voice was stilted. "The
thing is, the willow bark is best harvested now. In a few weeks, the
snowmelt and Ascendance will have the wetlands flooded, so the more
I can process now, the better—but if I was working and got called away,
it could spoil the batch. Cost us medical supplies. I was wondering, is
there anyone with some chymistry experience who might be willing to
help, just help finish up, if I'm called away? Or I could bring them sup-
plies to process themselves."
Ilva's head inclined almost mechanically, her expression growing
tight as a demurring smile drew her lips back. "Helena . . ."
"Since it's all we have right now, it seems a shame to waste a re-
source," Helena added quickly.
Ilva paused, measuring her words. "A few weeks ago, this might have
been a very different conversation, but that's hardly something I can ask
of anyone now. Our chymists have extensive assignments of their own,
and I suspect Falcon Matias is unaware of this supplementing you've
been doing. He would have to be informed of anyone assigned to you in
an official capacity."
"Of course."
"Actually—" Ilva suddenly sat forward. "I take that back. I just
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Alchemised • 365
thought of someone who might be interested. Shiseo. I ran into him the
other day."
Helena looked up, forehead furrowed. "Who?"
"Oh, he's an Easterner, Far Eastern. All the way from the Empire, in
fact. He came to Paladia with a political asylum request after the new
Emperor came to power." Ilva tapped her chin. "He's some kind of met-
allurgist, I think. Apollo was thrilled to have him, always loved foreign
alchemy, said that kind of exposure was good for Luc. He's still here.
Very educated, I believe. He might enjoy the opportunity to observe
Paladian chymiatria."
"Doesn't he work at the forge?" Helena asked in confusion. Metal-
lurgists were a vital resource.
Amusement flickered in Ilva's face. "No. We don't allow an Easterner
near the Athanor Furnace, Marino." She nodded to herself. "Yes, I don't
think he'd mind at all. You two could work well together."
A Far Eastern metallurgist was not what Helena had in mind. She
didn't want another trainee; she wanted help, for something in her life
to be marginally less difficult.
"Well, if he's willing, I suppose we could ask."
Ilva hummed, seeming distracted again. "Very good. Well, you can
go now, Marino. It would appear I have scouts to dispatch and a Coun-
cil meeting to call about these chimaeras."
Helena went to her lab and unpacked her satchel, washing and lay-
ing out all her willow bark and sphagnum to dry. When she went to her
room in the Tower to clean up, the evidence of Lila's return was littered
everywhere.
Helena filled the bathtub, sinking in up to her neck. Now that she
was alone, she could think about Ferron. Her brazen stupidity and his
reaction to it.
He hadn't hurt her.
She hadn't realised how much she'd expected it. She'd assumed that
if she ever provoked him, purposely or not, death or severe injury was
inevitable.
Everyone knew the Undying were violent and sadistic. There were
countless stories about the senseless cruelty they indulged in on the
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366 • SenLinYu
battlefield. Protected with invulnerability, they relished the atrocities
they could commit.
Helena had assumed Ferron would be like the rest of them.
Now she wasn't sure what he was.
He'd been so angry. Angrier than she had ever seen anyone, but he
had driven her off. He hadn't hurt her at all.
She sank under the water until it covered her face.
Why not? After all, he didn't care about the Eternal Flame. So what
held him back? It wasn't as if Ferron was above violence. He'd ripped
out a man's heart with his bare hands.
She replayed what she'd said.
The shock on his face, as if he hadn't realised what he was like until
she'd told him.
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CHAPTER 30
Aprilis 1786
Before the next Martiday, Helena submitted for and re-
ceived a standard-issue alchemical knife. Because of the chimaeras, she
skipped foraging and went directly towards the Outpost, casting a wist-
ful glance over the wetlands as she turned towards the dam.
There had been more than ten chimaeras spotted outside the city,
mostly wandering the banks of the West Island. There were no deaths
reported yet, but many of the people trapped in the city and on the
Outpost relied on the river for food. It was only a matter of time.
Several units were being assembled into hunting parties. Predictably,
Luc had immediately volunteered his battalion.
Inside the tenement, the door to the unit had been replaced. Helena
hoped it was a good sign as she let herself in.
Her cloak and jacket, both abandoned by her flight, were on a table,
neatly folded.
Ferron was not there.
She walked around the room, inspecting it. There were remnants of
a kitchen, and a far door revealed a filthy bathroom, the sink chipped
and stained as if there'd been chemicals poured down it. At least it had
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368 • SenLinYu
a bathroom. Some of the tenements in the low districts were so old,
they didn't even have that.
She sat, fingers curling against her palm, using her resonance to
tamp down on her rising unease and keep her thoughts from anxiously
spiralling. It was fine, Ferron was just late.
The minutes dragged on.
She hadn't told Crowther or Ilva what had happened. She'd passed
it off as a brief meeting, Ferron had warned of the chimaeras and she'd
hurried back, no mention of anything else.
But if Ferron didn't show up, she would have to tell Crowther, ex-
plain what had gone wrong. Her chest grew so tight she could barely
breathe.
When ten minutes had passed, she forced herself to accept that Fer-
ron was not coming, but as she pulled her satchel up onto her shoulder,
the door clicked and he walked in.
He didn't seem at surprised to find her still waiting there.
He closed the door and stood in front of it, his expression unread-
able, body eerily still. It was strange how empty his posture was.
Helena had relied heavily on body language after moving to Paladia.
Etras was culturally expressive; words, expressions, gestures were all part
of communication. Northerners were canny, and they often communi-
cated more through subtext than their actual words.
That was why Helena had been so drawn to Luc: He wasn't like that;
he didn't say things he didn't mean. With other Paladians, Helena had
learned to decipher what they meant through their bodies instead of
their mouths.
However, Ferron's body said almost nothing. He reminded her of a
gambler, hiding his tells. There was nothing about him that indicated
his current mood.
"I'm sorry," she said, breaking the tense silence. "I shouldn't have said
that last week. I lost my head. I'll do—whatever you want to make it up
to you."
Ferron didn't react beyond his eyes flickering briefly.
"It's fine," he said after a moment, his voice void. "When I specified
willing, that meant you were allowed to say no. Although, perhaps try
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Alchemised • 369
saying it next time, instead of provoking me."
Helena looked at him in astonishment. From the moment Ilva and
Crowther had told her the terms, she'd assumed her willingness, once
given, was irrevocable.
Anything that happened after, she'd already agreed to.
She didn't believe him. He'd mentioned looking forward to her re-
gret. That didn't imply any permission to change her mind or refuse
what was demanded. No, he was altering the terms of their agreement
because of what she'd said to him.
Her eyes narrowed appraisingly.
Her suspicion seemed to anger him. Irritation flashed across his face.
She averted her eyes, best not to provoke him again. Given time, he'd
be sure to change his mind, to redefine the terms to suit his ends, but in
this moment, he wanted to believe he had some kind of moral code, that
there were things he was above.
She nodded as if she believed him.
"I have an alchemy knife now," she said, hoping the change of sub-
ject would distract him.
He held out a gloved hand. "Let me see it."
He took it carefully, his gloves not even grazing her skin. He now
seemed overly aware of her.
He inspected the knife, testing the balance. Despite his gloves, the
blade morphed, the knife edge spiralling around the inner core.
The purpose was to stab when the blade was flat, transmute, and pull
out, leaving a massive wound. The larger a wound, the longer it took the
Undying to recover, and the quicker necrothralls were rendered immo-
bile. The blade could also be manipulated into a range of lengths, but
that took effort and required familiarity with the idiosyncrasies of the
alloy to keep it from being shattered.
Because it was standard-issue, the knife had been forged using
lumithium emanations to increase its resonance. That way, alchemists
with limited steel resonance could still transmute it. Helena's natural
resonance didn't need the supplementing—it made the made the alloy
resonance feel uneven—but she was assured that she'd get used to it.
"Are you trained with a knife?" he finally asked.