What is life? A question that has plagued philosophers, alchemists and kings. Life in its simplest form is a fleeting spark, an ephemeral moment between two unknowns: birth and death. It begins without permission and ends without warning, a brief glimmer of light in an endless darkness. But is life simply the beating of the heart, the breath in the lungs, the warmth of blood flowing through the veins? Or is it something more - something beyond the physical, a force that defines who we are long after the body fades and dies?

What is death? For most, it is the end. The last chapter of a book that ends without an epilogue, the abyss from which no one returns. But what if death is not the end? What if death is just a transition, a doorway to something else, something unfathomable?

The world of alchemy does not view life and death in such simple terms. There is a price to be paid for every acquisition. This is the law of equal exchange, the basis of reality itself. In order to gain something of equal value, one must lose it. Nothing can be created from nothing. The universe is in perfect balance, and the flow of energy between life and death is part of that balance.

But then what of the soul? What does it mean to be something more than flesh and bones, more than the sum of physical parts? The soul is what defines us, that intangible entity that holds memories, desires, dreams and fears. This self persists even when the body is destroyed. However, in this world of equal exchange, even the soul is not immune to the laws that govern existence. The soul also has its price. To save the soul, to snatch it from the clutches of death, is to violate the natural order of things. And so, those who attempt such forbidden acts find themselves at the mercy of Truth, the all-powerful force that guards the cosmic scale.

Prologue: Awakening in the Abyss

In a world beyond the alchemical understanding of Amestris, where science and logic ruled and magic was no more than a folkloric whisper, there lived a soul. That soul lived, laughed, and died in a realm where the ordinary ruled and the extraordinary remained untouched and unseen.

It had once had a life. Friends, family, purpose. The warm touch of sunlight on his skin, the fresh fall air, the pulse of time moving inexorably forward. But these sensations, so vividly connected to the body he once inhabited, were now distant memories, smoldering like the last embers of a dying fire.

In this world, far from the metallic flavor of alchemy and the clinging hands of philosopher's stones, the soul led a peaceful existence. No gods, no monsters, no eternal laws of equivalent exchange. Life was simple. And when it died, the peace of oblivion awaited it. The end. Liberation. But it didn't happen.

The first sensation was a pull - sharp, merciless, and fierce. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn, the soul ripped from the afterlife that awaited it. It happened in an instant, but it seemed like an eternity. A blinding light invaded the calm darkness of death, as if the cosmos itself reached out and took the soul for a purpose it could not fathom.

He was carried across the boundaries of space, time, and dimensions, transcending invisible barriers. It was carried through this chaos like a passenger on a journey it did not understand until it reached its new destination: The Gate of Truth.

The first thing the soul felt upon reaching this place was silence - a frightening, endless silence. But it was not a silence of peace. It was the silence of waiting for something. Like the calm before the storm. It was a suffocating, unnatural sensation. And it filled the soul with a deep, gnawing fear.

When the soul finally realized its surroundings, it realized it was trapped in a prison without walls, in a dimension that existed beyond life and death, beyond anything it could ever imagine. Floating in a void that stretched in every direction, he could see the faint outlines of others - countless souls trapped in this place.

Some of them were mere shadows of themselves, lost in endless train of thought, repeating the same motions over and over again, as if trapped in their own minds. Others screamed in agony, writhing in regret for transgressions they could never undo. It was a place where time itself did not flow properly, where truth hung in a suffocating fog and from which it seemed impossible to escape.

The gate towered above everything, looming in the distance. A massive, airy structure of unfathomable design, neither fully open nor fully closed. The Gate radiated a power unlike anything a soul had ever felt, a cosmic force transcending all dimensions. The souls trapped here were bound to this Gate, their suffering a constant reminder of the inexorable nature of the laws they were trying to break.

The soul had no place here. That much was clear. She did not understand alchemy, she did not regret a failed transmutation, she was not bound to the sins of Amestris or the world of the living. She wasn't making a deal. He wasn't trying to play god.

And yet here he was, plucked from one reality and forcibly transported to another.

Why?

The soul could not understand. And that unanswered question began to fester, festering, eating away at his very essence as the years passed.

There was no sense of body in this place. There was no earth beneath it, no sky above it. The soul was just a consciousness, drifting in a sea of longing and regret. He could hear other souls, their voices blending into an unholy symphony-a cacophony of sorrow, rage, and despair.

Some souls cried out for their loved ones they had lost. Others begged forgiveness for the transformations gone wrong. Many cursed their ambition, realizing too late that the price of knowledge was their very existence. They had dared to defy the natural order of things and were now paying the price, forever chained to the Gates of Truth.

"Why... why did it have to be this way?" "I just wanted... to get her back..." "If only I had more time! I could have perfected the elements..."

These voices filled the void, clinging to the soul, suffocating it with their endless pleas for redemption. But none of them ever escaped. No one ever got what they wanted. And gradually the soul realized what this place was - an eternal prison for those who dared to challenge the balance of the universe.

Time didn't matter here - days, months, years - it was all the same. The screams of other souls became background noise, a constant humming in the fabric of this place, like static in the backwaters of consciousness. In time, the soul learned to ignore it.

But the pain remained. The despair. A burning need to escape.

"I don't belong here."

That thought became the soul's mantra. Over and over he repeated it, trying to cling to some fragment of his identity. Some fragment of hope.

At first the soul was sure it could be saved. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding of cosmic proportions. Perhaps if she had cried out to the entity that ruled this place, she would have been heard. Perhaps if she had remained quiet and patient, she would have been released.

But the days - if they could be called days - dragged on, and her soul began to feel the weight of eternity pressing down on her. The gates never opened, and the Truth never revealed itself.

The other souls continued their endless wailing, trapped in their guilt, but they paid no attention to the new soul. They were consumed by their own agony, consumed by their own regrets. The alien soul, without the same regrets, without the same attachment to the sins of alchemy, had nothing to fall back on. She had no stories to repeat, no loved ones to grieve for. She was just lonely.

She hated this place. Hated the Gate. Hated the silence that reigned between the screams. Hated that the universe had forgotten about it.

And so the soul began to change. It became colder, more detached even from itself. Memories of her past life became sketchy and hazy. She no longer remembered her name or the faces of those she loved. All she knew was the need to escape. And that need had become an obsession. The only thing keeping him from going insane in this endless void.

At first the soul was sure it could be saved. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding of cosmic proportions. Perhaps if it had called out to the entity that ruled this place, it would have been heard. Perhaps if she had remained calm and patient, she would have been released.

But the days - if they could be called days - dragged on, and her soul began to feel the weight of eternity pressing down on her. The gates never opened, and the Truth never revealed itself.

The other souls continued their endless wailing, trapped in their guilt, but they paid no attention to the new soul. They were consumed by their own agony, consumed by their own regrets. The alien soul, devoid of the same regrets, the same attachment to the sins of alchemy, had nothing to lean on. She had no stories to repeat, no loved ones to grieve for. She was just lonely.

She hated this place. Hated the Gate. Hated the silence that reigned between the screams. Hated that the universe had forgotten about her.

And then her soul began to change. It became colder, more detached even from itself. Memories of her past life became sketchy and hazy. She no longer remembered her name or the faces of those she loved. All she knew was the need to escape. And that need had become an obsession. The only thing that kept him from going insane in this endless void.

The soul hesitated. It had nothing to offer. There was nothing more to give.

"But I am a just being," Truth continued, -" I will give you a chance. When the door opens, take it. But remember - you will be in my debt. One day I will come for you."

The soul was desperate. She would have agreed to anything to escape.