'What is it that the alchemist would call this, hm?'
I awoke to the sound of his voice, but it was the kind of waking that wasn't genuine – like a form of subconscious lingering longer than it should. But that wasn't unheard of. Not for him. Not for me.
'Transmutation?'
My eyes remained closed for a moment. I neither wanted to see him, nor have him disappear because of my greed.
'Yes,' I exhaled. 'Transmutation, transfiguration, transmogrification, they are all the same. Changing a substance from one thing to an entirely new thing.'
I heard him cluck his tongue twice at me playfully, yet still I could not bring myself to look at him.
'Transfiguration is not alchemical, little cub, but spiritual. From man to martyr. Speaking of which – the Compassion of the Martyr. You are still clever, aren't you, little cub?'
