Disclaimer: I own something! Yay! All characters in this fic are Original Characters, and they all belong to me.  However, all concepts such as Alchemy, Psynergy, etc. are Golden Sun material that belongs to Nintendo and/or Camelot.  Everyone got it? Good!!

Author's Note: This little idea has been bouncing around for a bit, so we'll see how it plays out.  This takes place hundreds of years before Golden Sun.

         Imil looked around the grassy plain and smiled in grim satisfaction.  Prince Herod lay dead at his feet, his army scattered on the plain behind him.  The smile quickly faded from Imil's face and he ran a hand through his ruffled blue hair, realizing just how close they had come to a dictator.  The Stone of Sages was no more than fifty feet behind him, and had Herod even touched the sacred relic, all of Alchemy's power would have been his.  He would have taken over all of Weyard, even without his rather mundane army.

         Imil was beginning to be disillusioned with Alchemy.  Granted, it had done wondrous things for the race of men, but horrible things as well.  Alchemy was the greatest power in the world; as such, many wanted to wield it exclusively.  Prince Herod was simply the latest in a long line of would-be dictators who sought the power of Alchemy as their own.  His defeat had cost thousands of lives, both in his army and of the Adepts who protected the Stone.  Imil and his friend, Lalivera, had been the last two standing defenders in Vale, and they had only just managed to defeat Herod's last battalion.

         Imil turned his powerfully built frame to face his smaller companion.  Lalivera had the brown hair and brown eyes of a Venus Adept, and her skill at healing was nearly unmatched.  Her light frame allowed her great speed, enabling her to heal quickly and efficiently.  She was a large reason why the band of thirty Adepts, sworn protectors of Alchemy's power, had managed to defeat the thousands of hired men Herod had attacked Vale with.  Herod had left the town itself mainly intact; the Adepts had lured his army into the plain, where they attacked quickly and efficiently.  The initial ambush had eliminated most of Herod's army, but the rest had proven to be a stiff test.

         "It is over," Lalivera spoke.

         "Indeed," Imil returned.  "But it was closer than it should have been."

         "You are correct.  We've lost many brave Adepts today."

         "This trend will only keep repeating itself.  We may have won this battle, but our numbers grow thin, and another will arise."

         "There is little else we can do.  We cannot move the Stone of Sages," Lalivera pointed out, glancing back at the sacred artifact.

         Imil surveyed the battlefield before speaking.  "Alchemy brings many great things, but it has such potential for destruction.  If someone claims it, the world would be theirs to command."

         "What are you suggesting?" Lalivera said, glancing at her elder companion.

         Imil gazed out across the plain as he spoke.  "Perhaps the Golden Age is ending."

         Lalivera joined Imil at his side.  A chill wind blew through her hair as Imil turned to face her.

         "We should continue this inside.  After you," he gestured.

         The two protectors of Alchemy strode through the ruined battlefield.

         *               *               *               *               *               *

         Lalivera looked up as Imil sat heavily across the table.  The inn at Vale was occupied by the remnants of the protectors, and she and Imil were in their room upstairs.

         "How many are left?" she asked.

         Imil sighed and unclasped his sword.  "Eleven.  Seireh and Lesir died during the night."

         Lalivera cursed silently under her breath.  They had barely managed to fend off Herod's army with thirty.  If another were to come now… disaster could befall them all.

         "What do you suggest?"

         "The Golden Age cannot last," Imil stated bluntly.  "It will end, either through dictator's conquest or Alchemy's destruction.  We no longer have the strength to protect the Stone of Sages."

         "We are faced with two evils, neither faring the better."

         "We must choose the lesser of the two.  If Alchemy were to fall, the world would still survive.  The same cannot be said of a dictator.  With Alchemy at his command, his every wish and desire would be forced upon Weyard."

         Lalivera looked in surprise at the Mercury Adept.  "You're suggesting we destroy Alchemy?  After spending all these years protecting it?"

         Imil shook his head.  "Not destroy.  That would also doom the world, merely through a slow decline instead of a sudden end.  But it must be controlled.  Shackled.  Perhaps even sealed away."

         Lalivera tapped her fingers on the tabletop.  "Interesting idea.  But how could we possibly contain Alchemy's power? Fueled as it is by the four lighthouses, the Stone of Sages cannot be destroyed."

         Imil stood up and paced to the opposite end of the room.  "The four lighthouses are the key.  They are the key to Alchemy's power.  If we could darken the lighthouses, Alchemy's power would fail."

         "Darkening the lighthouses would allow the Stone of Sages to be destroyed.  But I thought you wanted to contain Alchemy, not remove it."

         Imil stopped suddenly and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "The power of the lighthouses must be absorbed.  Absorbed so that they could be rekindled, if necessary.  But how?" he continued pacing.

         Lalivera sat silent, turning over an idea in her mind.  It was frightening to consider a world without Alchemy.  But Imil seemed to be right: the choice was between that and dictatorship.  And if the power could be contained, harnessed, it could be unleashed again when the time was correct.  Yes, that was the proper course of action.  But how to obtain it?

         Imil's voice interrupted her thoughts.  "If the power of the lighthouses were absorbed, the Stone of Sages could still be destroyed, correct?"

         Lalivera thought for a moment, then nodded.  "Yes, I believe so."

         "Then we could seal the power of the lighthouses away.  That would be much easier than trying to seal the full power of Alchemy."

         Lalivera snapped her fingers suddenly.  The noise echoed briefly in the empty room as Imil turned to face her.

         "I think I know how we can absorb the lighthouses' power," she said musingly.  "The problem is containing the power of a single element in a safe place.  A person could cast a simple absorption spell, but the power would overwhelm their system, and they would perish."

         "That's correct.  Even someone of the correct elemental alignment would find the power too much to handle."

         "So if we center an absorption spell on an item, all the power of that element would be absorbed into that item."

         Imil's eyes flashed in recognition.  "And whoever held the item would have the power of that element in their hands."

         Lalivera smiled brightly.  "Literally."

         Imil glanced at the Venus Adept.  "But where are you going to get such items?  Absorption spells are unstable; they generally absorb the first essence they come in contact with.  I don't see how you can concentrate them in an item that they would be more likely to absorb."

         "The items themselves aren't the problem.  I believe I could use my Psynergy to create them."  At Imil's skeptical glance, Lalivera continued, "It would take a lot of effort and even more time, but I could create a simple sphere and embed an absorption spell into the fibers.  But it would absorb the first essence it came in contact with, unless it was shielded."

         Imil sat at the table again.  "What can you shield an absorption spell with?"

         Lalivera looked up at him.  "Mythril."

         "What!"

         "I didn't say it was going to be easy."

         Imil ran his hand through his hair.  "Mythril hasn't been seen for centuries.  I don't know where you plan to find any."

         Lalivera smiled across the table at Imil.  "I wasn't planning on finding any.  I was planning on having you find it."

         Imil stared blankly at her.  She sighed inwardly.  "Imil, if you're serious about this, I need to start researching exactly how to embed absorption spells.  Because if you mess it up, things get nasty.  That leaves you to get the mythril."

         Imil stood up and paced the length of the room.  "So where do I find the mythical mythril?"

         Lalivera shrugged.  "Probably the first thing to do would be to look in the old records.  See if there's any mention of mythril.  There has to be some abandoned mine somewhere, or storehouse, or something."

         Imil stopped pacing and looked at her.  "So we're really going to seal Alchemy away."

         Lalivera nodded.  "You're right.  It's between this and total war."

         "The clans will be against us.  They won't allow us to steal the power of their lighthouses."

         "We'll have to leave them no choice."

         Imil nodded.  "To be turned against all fellow Adepts.  Do you think we can succeed?"

         Lalivera looked out the window and nodded.  "We must.  For the future of Weyard."

         Imil picked up his sword and clasped it across his back.  "I'll go do some research in the old records.  What will you be doing?"

         "I can't make the spheres until you have the mythril.  I have to embed the spell while I construct them.  I'll look for the best way to do that."

         Imil turned to leave.

         "Imil?"

         "Yes?"

         "Good luck."

         *               *               *               *               *               *

         Imil thumbed through parchment after parchment in the archives section of the Vale Sanctum.  Most of these scrolls were falling apart from age and neglect.  Alchemy could do many things, but seemingly it failed at organizing information, for Imil had been searching for several hours and found nothing about mythril.  Lalivera was crazy, he decided.  There was no chance to find any mythril.  There was none left in the world today.  Alchemy had brought about bigger and better things, and the need for mythril had disappeared.

         He sighed as he began yet another pile of scrolls.  This one was about the economics of the Karagol Sea.  No help there.  The next scroll was adorned with a flowery border and flowing script, declaring every wedding in Vale from the third century After Alchemy.  Imil snorted in disgust.  This pile wasn't going to help him at all.

         Suddenly, a small box caught his eye.  It was made of bronze, half-buried among the scrolls and parchments.  Imil gently extracted the box and examined the lock.  It was an old lock, using a key instead of Pysnergetic signatures.  Imil pressed his hand to the lock, then slowly drew it backwards, creating a small rod of water that seeped among the lock.  He then froze the water solid, and turned the ice key.  The lock opened with a click, and Imil smiled as he gently lifted the cover.

         A small scroll lay inside.  Imil gently lifted the scroll from the box and unrolled the yellowed sheet.  A smile grew on his face as his blue eyes traversed the writing.  He would have to show this to Lalivera.

         *               *               *               *               *               *

         Lalivera moved from bed to bed in the inn's lobby, checking on the wounded from the battle.  Nahin had a pretty bad burn up his right arm, but he would be all right within a couple days.  Junou was less fortunate; the wound in his chest was festering, and Lalivera feared he would be lost soon.  In all, only four Adepts, including herself and Imil, were in fighting condition.  That last battle had been brutal.

         Lalivera kneeled down next to another bed.  She clasped the hand of Gerzog, a Mars Adept whose wounded leg had been infected before Lalivera had gotten to him.  The infection had given him a bad fever, and Lalivera was fighting to keep him lucid.  She took his hand gently and his eyes traveled unsteadily to hers.

         "How are you, Gerzog?"

         "Better," he wheezed.  "I feel a little cooler today."

         "That's good," Lalivera commented, touching his cheek with the back of her hand.  He was still abnormally hot.

         "Lali," Gerzog started, "I want you to know-"

         "Yes?" she asked patiently.

         "If anyone…anyone threatens Alchemy… I'll be there, fighting for it…"

         "I know," Lalivera whispered.  Gerzog fell into a fitful sleep, releasing her hand.

         Lalivera returned to her room, conflicting thoughts running through her head.  If she and Imil succeeded, what would people like Gerzog think of them?  Would they be outcasts, hunted for their crime against Alchemy, against humanity?  Or would others be able to see the necessity of their actions?  Even now, Lalivera wondered how it had come to this.  Alchemy had done such wonders for Weyard.  The elemental clans lived in such splendor, their lighthouses the centerpiece of modern civilization.  And it was all threatened by the very power that created it.

         No, she decided, Alchemy had to be sealed.  It had become too great a power.

         Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.  "Enter," she called.

         Imil walked in the doorway, a small scroll in his hand and a grin on his face.

         "Did you find anything?" Lalivera asked.

         "Just a small land deed," Imil smiled, "for a mythril mine."

         Lalivera jumped out of her chair.  "Let's see it, then."

         Imil walked over to the table and slowly unrolled the aged parchment.  Lalivera frowned, then walked to the windowsill, lit a candle, and returned to the table.

         "Twelfth cycle, second century After Alchemy," she read aloud, "This deed hereby entitles the holder to all property west of Bilibin Cave in the Formth Mountain range, such property to encompass roughly thirty-six (36) acres and including Gorman Bros. Mining Co. and their facilities.  Signed this fourth moon of the twelfth cycle, Melir Gorman.  Sold to Loirn Camen.  Witnessed Jarret Messel."  She tapped the paper with her forefinger.

         "It was more than four centuries ago, but there may be some remains in the area," Imil interjected.  "It's at least worth a shot."  He strode over to the wall and took down the map of Angara hanging on the wall.  "And look at this – it's even on the route to the Mercury Clan.  If we manage to find the mythril-"

         "We can make that be our first lighthouse," Lalivera finished.  "When should we leave?"

         "As soon as possible.  Tomorrow."

         "What about the wounded?"

         "Maxti can take care of them.  We don't have a lot of time."

         "All right," Lalivera said, stretching and yawning.  "It's time for some rest, then."

         "Indeed.  Goodnight, Lali."

         "Goodnight, Imil."

A/N: Please R+R!

-AE