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Words of a prophecy were meaningless to a devout alchemist, even in defiance of his very own coreflame. The only words he worshiped were the inquiries and resolutions that had stemmed from the trial and error of his research. Nevertheless, the golden threads of a romantic tale wrapped around his throat and limbs and continuously tugged at him time and again. They had tried to pull him closer to the path of the prophecy, but all he did was laugh. Laugh hysterically as he stood firm with his logic as the treads of fate yanked at his throat.
Such stubbornness served as the catalyst for the rifts between Anaxagoras and those around him. For the Flame Chase, against the Flame Chase, somewhere in between, they were all arguments that he had heard time and again. What were a few measly words to stop him from defining his own fate? Some called him arrogant. Others called him foolish. But no scholar of the Grove could stand as his equal to compete and truly act as a thorn in his side. The one that pried at his nerves the most, however, was the puppeteer behind the threads that dug into his body.
Romance and Reason. Choice and fate. Two values contradicting each other at their very core, like gold leaf atop oxidized copper. That gold leaf in question, though, shone brightly in the eye of the professor. If only it were that easy for him to get his hands on even a slimmer of that divinity.
Anaxa stared at the concoction within the Erlenmeyer flask. This wasn’t one of his grandest experiments, per say, but it was enough to not align with the most familiar concept of ethics. It was based on a rather simple alchemical foundation: transmutation. Some simple, relatively low-level concepts hinged upon the transformation of one substance to another, from basic elements to more desirable substances. As such a foundation existed, Anaxa would, theoretically, be able to take this many steps forward. Why stop at iron and gold? Why not transmute the blighted to the light? Or even the mortal to the divine?
Hence, the recipe for his most recent and greatest study was conceived.
To his side rested the forearm of a Black Tide creature, fresh and still leaking blood, extracted at his personal request. It had long since perished, so if a misfire of the potion were to occur, the results would not be as devastating if living forces were at play.
Though her eyesight had grown poor as a result of years at the head of the Flame Chase journey, even Aglaea could see the dangers that lie within him tampering with the fundamental laws in which Amphoreus was built upon. Anaxa was stubborn in his pursuits; unfortunately, so was Aglaea.
The concoction was a rather murky and unpleasant shade of purple, bubbling with remnants of heat and dubious intent. If Anaxa were to use it now, then the results were sure to be contrary to his original intent. An already forsaken creature would be corrupted beyond even the comprehension of the most gifted blasphemer. To reverse its current potential outcome, the potion needed a certain touch of...divinity.
For better or for worse, he was acquainted with someone who possessed such power. But the individual in question was Aglaea, who was not too willing to cooperate with him for reasons beyond those defined in the prophecy. A simple request of such would be the final strike in splitting Reason from Romance and the rest of the coreflames. Such demise was not inherently the scholar’s intentions, but it was doomed to lead to such nonetheless.
Observing the incomplete potion, Anaxa continued to ponder his next course of action as that nuisance Goldweaver once more confronted him and his actions.
"Anaxa," Aglaea said as her eyes glazed over the murky, violet brew, "perhaps you should reconsider toying with such fundamentals."
"You haven’t the slightest idea what you’re on about, woman. And that’s Anaxagoras to you."
"My eyes may be failing me, but it does not take an observant one to notice what is unfolding. Before you, a vile concoction and the arm of a monster rest; what more is there for me to assume other than nefarious purposes?"
Anaxa picked up the flask and swirled it before Aglaea.
"Though it may be the color of sin, before you is potential in its truest form, not destruction."
"I do believe you mean the potential for destruction," Aglaea said with a slight giggle.
"Destructive or not, it would hardly matter as long as it remained within our possession. I am to believe that should be of no concern, assuming that our defenses remain impenetrable."
Aglaea narrowed her eyes with a tinge of distrust glimmering in her irises. As if she would allow her defenses to fall. Did Anaxa truly hold no faith in her? Or was it merely a jab at her capabilities as payback for not being so willing to trust the madness of the alchemist?
As Anaxa swirled the concoction around, he in return, shot Aglaea a glare. Dreary silence was laid thick upon the laboratory. Not a word needed to be exchanged between the two, as the look in their eyes spoke for themselves.
"Should?" she asked. "You speak as if the faith you hold in me is minimal."
"It is only fair," Anaxa said. "To you, my craft is nothing more than fraudulent."
"Beneath the watchful eyes of the Titans, it most certainly is. Every action of yours has only defiled the guidance they have laid out for us."
"And so you believe that blindly following them time and again is the solution?"
Anaxa placed the flask back down and traced the rim with the tip of his fingers. His flesh was no longer phased by the heat energy that had manifested as a result of his work. He had already lost an eye, his heart, even what remained of his sanity and morals, so what more was a few insignificant nerve endings? The scholar’s appearance was unfortunate, clashing with the beauty of the Goldweaver that stood before him.
Perhaps even more unfortunate was that they would never see eye to eye, not on account of blindness, but rather, contradictory beliefs.
"If we continue to mindlessly follow the path laid out before us,” Anaxa continued, “our actions would have long since been known by both friend and foe alike. Bend these rules and our oppressors won’t be given a chance to predict our plan of attack.”
"The Flame Chase journey follows a set path for a reason, Anaxa."
"Once again, it’s Anaxagoras," he jumped in to correct. "I do believe that we have strayed from the original topic at hand."
Aglaea narrowed her eyes at Anaxa, whose physical stance was just as firm as the beliefs he stood upon. His fingers traced around the mouth of the flask one final time before he lifted it up and once again presented it to her, gently swirling its contents.
"This appears to be nothing more than a mere potion to the poor of sight. It takes an enlightened mind to see it for what it truly is. Something that you certainly fail to comprehend.”
"Anaxa, I believe I comprehend it more than enough. Your potion, whatever your intentions may be, will lead to dire consequences costing both the Flame Chase journey and those unaffiliated with it,"
"Ha! Coming to a conclusion before I could even begin to explain. I expected nothing less of you, woman. Mark my words, one way or another, my latest advancements will prove useful to the both of us.”
Crossing her arms and giving him a look that quietly said, "I’m listening," Aglaea remained silent in the brief pause that Anaxa had allotted for her marvel in curiosity and awe at his accomplishments.
"Upon completion, the concoction within this flask will allow one to transform the dark into light, the black into white, the enemy into our ally."
Aglaea was not so easily convinced by his grand speech.
"Transforming our sworn enemy into a loyal ally with the application of one supposedly simple concoction? Professor, I cannot tell if your genius is beyond our goals or you have simply gone mad."
"I have yet to see for myself, for this creation of mine is missing a most vital ingredient."
He held up the flask to a light source within the lab and stared into the purple mixture with his one good eye.
"The essence of divinity."
"Divinity? Is the golden blood that flows through your veins not enough to quell your greed?"
"Ah, but that is something I have long considered. Regrettably, my blood is far too tainted for such purposes."
Anaxa pried his focus away from the flask and stared down Aglaea with a morbid hunger in his gaze. It did not take her long to figure out that this final ingredient he was seeking out was sourced from her. Her own body, her own powers, whatever it was, only Aglaea and Aglaea alone could provide him with what he seeked.
"So instead, you’re resorting to asking for my blood, if I am to assume correctly," Aglaea said, crossing her arms.
"That is where you are mistaken."
Anaxa held out his hand.
"Your golden threads," he said, "Give them to me.”
Aglaea held her hands close into her chest, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head.
"What ails you, woman? Do you not hold any faith in me?"
"...Knowing you, every grand experiment of yours serves as a gateway to something far more sinister.”
"And this so-called sinister power is crafted by my hands, to be used for my purposes, and my purposes alone. It only becomes sinister when it falls into the claws of our opposition, which I pray you have a hand in preventing. Now, hand me a sliver of thread. It will benefit both of us in the long run."
"...Professor, I am sorry, but I do not have the heart to trust you.”
The devious grin on Anaxa’s face fell into a displeased scowl.
"My research holds mutual benefits for both myself and the Flame Chase journey, yet you turn your nose up at it regardless? Woman, just how foolish can you be?"
"Anaxa, I believe you are the fool at fault. It is one matter to toy with divinity at an alchemical scale. But to pull the Flame Chase journey into your god defying plans using such dubious methods? I simply cannot allow myself to be associated with such."
"Hmph. Very well then," Anaxa said, withdrawing his hand and turning his back. "I suppose that here marks where our goals truly do part ways.”
"Anaxa..."
"Worry not, my dear Goldweaver. I can find the needed essence of divinity elsewhere. You and your Flame Chase journey won’t hold me back, involvement or not."
With a heavy, regretful sigh, Aglaea said, "A shame that we cannot have your hand in aiding our journey, but perhaps it was a longshot for all of us to agree."
"Hmph. At least, for the time being," Anaxa said, returning to his research.
Aglaea opened her mouth to speak, but with the blasphemer having turned his back and showing clear disinterest in further argument, she had decided to not press the issue further. Despite his final words lingering in her mind, she felt as if the only response she would get out of him would be some form of maniacal laughter, sprouting into an “I-told-you-so” attitude later on down the line. Though devout in following the prophecy, even she didn’t have the gift of knowing exactly what the future held, and so Aglaea decided to leave his words and any semblance of hope for his compliance be.
She turned away and left Anaxa to his thoughts, though through her fading vision, she couldn’t help but gaze back one final time and long for what his aid could have brought to the Flame Chase journey. There was no use in attempting to force him to comply, though, when her time was better invested elsewhere. Likewise, it was a real shame to Anaxa himself that the purest form of divinity under the eternally blazing sunlight remained just out of his reach. He would have to find what he needed elsewhere, but thankfully, resorting to the assistance of a fleet-footed trickster was not outside of his moral compass, or lack thereof.
Though the concoction within that very flask served as the final ingredient needed to push Aglaea and Anaxa on their own paths, this was but one of many occurrences out of many. In some tales, their views had aligned and the scholar and the Goldweaver both traversed the same fate. And in other records, they never once saw eye to eye, let alone each other.
Anaxa did say for the time being, did he not? Whether or not the rift would be mended in a miraculous perfect occurrence still had yet to be determined.