“I’m not sure I fully understand the situation here,” his friend said dryly, “but I think it would be prudent for neither of you to kill the other until we’ve solved our mutual problems. If Kane says Zaria’s unharmed, then I’m sure she’s fine. Stop being so quarrelsome.”
Unfathomably, Jules seemed content to listen to Fletcher, though he still moved his jaw back and forth in agitation. “Let me see her.”
“Be my guest,” Kane said.
As he led the way to Zaria’s rooms, Kane found himself hesitant to knock. He hated that he’d been right not to trust her. Hated that she’d tried to pull one over on him again. Most of all, though, he hated the way it had made him feel: not murderous, but hurt. As if something within him had been crushed into jagged pieces that still remained, sending stabbing pain through his chest each time he moved. Kane couldn’t afford to feel that kind of pain. He needed Zaria to help him, to fear him, and then he needed her gone. There was no other option.
He felt horribly as though his world was crumbling around him.There were too many pieces on which he was losing his grip: The Curator. Inspector Price. The plan to infiltrate Mansion House. Maintaining his crew’s tenuous loyalty. Now he also had Vaughan and a potentially false primateria source to contend with. Then, of course, there were the nightmares that haunted him: His parents’ murder. Ward’s death.
Zaria, too, haunted him.
He knocked briskly on her door, gesturing for Fletcher and Jules to stop crowding it. When an exasperated “What?” sounded from within, Kane took it as permission to enter.
Zaria was sitting at the desk across from the bed, poring over an open book. Where she’d gotten the tome from, Kane didn’t have a clue. He blinked when he saw she was still wearing her nightgown, though she didn’t appear remotely self-conscious about that fact. Mostly, however, he was relieved to see that she wasn’t quite as drawn and pale as she had been several hours prior.
“Jules.” Zaria stood, slamming the book shut and looking past Kane to where her friend stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
Kane answered through clenched teeth before Jules could reply. “He came here to bother me, if you can believe it. Turns out everyone gets their morning copy ofThe Timesbefore I do.”
He might as well not have spoken. Jules stepped forward, scanning Zaria for injury. “You’re okay?”
“Of course,” she said, her gaze full of concern. “You?”
Jules nodded, and something inside Kane seemed to wither, replaced by the sudden urge to claw all emotion right out of his chest. It was a relief when Fletcher—who was obviously keen to get to the point—handed his copy of the newspaper to Zaria. She read it quickly, brows ascending her forehead. Then, finally, her eyes met Kane’s. “Why would they create a second, identical device?”
“No idea. I was hoping you might be able to give us some insight.” Kane came to stand behind her left shoulder. Her hair was loose, tumbling all the way down her back in golden-brown waves. He clenched his hand into a fist before indicating the drawings beneath the article. “I thought it might have something to do with…”
Zaria’s abrupt intake of breath had him trailing off. She hovered a finger over the shape, not quite touching it. “This is the symbol for alchemology’s Magnum Opus.”
Jules gasped, hurrying to her side to reexamine the image. Kane, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue what the phrase meant. He exchanged a glance with Fletcher, who shrugged.
“Well,” Zaria amended, “It’salmostthe symbol for the Magnum Opus. There’s only supposed to be one circle, not three.”
Kane tried not to sound as impatient as he felt. “What does that mean? What’s the Magnum Opus?”
“It’s a hypothetical creation. Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought since my father explained it to me years ago.” Zaria shuttered her eyes, a slight divot appearing between her brows. “I assume you know the story about Hohenheim? How alchemology was created when he inadvertently discovered soulsteel three hundred years ago, give or take?”
Kane and Jules both nodded. Even Fletcher inclined his head.
“Okay,” Zaria said, the word heavy with resignation. “Well then, you’ll also know the practice was outlawed the moment it came to the attention of the papacy at the time. But Hohenheim wasn’t willing to give up that easily, even knowing the creation of soulsteel was believed to compromise one’s literal soul. Legend has it, he created the primateria sources in order to ensure others would be able to practice alchemology once he was gone.”
“We know all of that,” Kane said brusquely.
Zaria cut him a daggered glance. “Excuse me for trying to give you some context. In simple terms, alchemology’s Magnum Opus is the process by which a primateria source is created or duplicated. It’s purely hypothetical—nobody but Hohenheim knows what that process is. However, the four quadrants are thought to represent the four main reactions that happen during creation. Dissolution, purification, transmutation, and then either crystallization or projection.” She took the newspaper back from Jules, pointing to the sections in turn. “Dissolution is where the ingredients break down into a solvent, with purification following once the parts are no longer disparate. Transmutation is a shift of the components from one thing into another—this is supposedly when magic is created. Crystallization is when that magic condenses into something solid, theoretically becoming usable.”
“And projection?” Kane asked, his head spinning as he tried to digest all the unfamiliar terms.
“Well, like I said, a source can either be created from scratch, or you can duplicate one. Crystallization happens when you’re using your energy to create something new. Projection happens when magic is channeled into replicating something that already exists. The process is highly theoretical—everything in alchemology is inextricably connected to the creator’s own life force, so I’m not sure projection is a real possibility unless you’re attempting to replicate something thatyoualso created.”
Zaria said this all rather fast, pausing when she noticed their expressions. Jules was blank-faced, Fletcher openly perplexed. Kane didn’t know what he looked like, but he was certain he hadn’t internalized a single sentence of that explanation.
“Right,” he said after a beat. “Okay. I’m still not seeing how any of this helps us.”
“I didn’t say it would help us. I’m just trying to tell you what the symbol represents.” Zaria gave an exasperated sigh. “In Latin,Magnum Opusmeans ‘the great work.’ It’s not a term specific to alchemology, but in that context it refers to the creation of a primateria source. If the Curator has adopted it as their emblem, so to speak, I’d guess it’s because they think they’re doing something truly great.”
“So the Curator has one hell of an ego.”
“That, or some lofty ideals. Countless alchemologists have wasted years of their lives trying to re-create the process. My father was one of them. If I recall, it’s also why Ward originally hired Cecile. He wanted her to find an alternative to primateria, but what he really wanted was for her to find a pathway to the Magnum Opus. He just didn’t know it.”
