Author's Note- I only have one wish, and that is to write a story that is somewhat comparable to the writing talent of Kristen Elizabeth (a writer on this site). Until then, I'll keep writing fanfiction on here.

This story is an intricate, multi-chaptered one that I outlined one night when bored. I really hope it is enjoyed.

-I, One, by Shadray-

Death.

It was the only word to describe it. The indescribable surge vaulting through his body…

"M- Mom?!"

The wind whipped through the atmosphere with the intensity of a million daggers, violently throwing curtains of golden hair around like victims of a tornado. The young man's breath ceased for a moment, his heart slammed against his chest with each pounding beat, as he fought vainly to ignore the vehement vaulting and churning in his stomach.

"What the hell is…?!"

The words had barely stumbled out of his dry mouth before she smiled elegantly up at him, the way she always used to. "My…Edward…" She extended her hand to him as if to touch his shaking body, and he, not knowing what to think, extended his as well, hoping desperately her body was as substantial as it appeared to be, although the two were still too far apart to touch. "Edward…."

The former alchemist gaped, wide-eyed, as she gradually approached, looming closer to view. Her dress billowed in the violent wind as she silently drew ever nearer, stepping forward with the gracefulness of the midnight moonlight. After so many years of living in a world in which he did not belong, Edward Elric found life in seeing someone from his past—without him having to snap open his eyelids and realize, not for the first time, that he had only imagined it.

But this?

Life certainly wasn't the only thing he had found. Yes—death was more like it.

And, with an inch of space left between the two, the woman's shape began to distort and blur like that of a lens focusing far too intensely on one object. Taken aback, he shut his eyes tightly, but by the time they had reopened, the image of his mother had faded out and been replaced by that of a childlike figure, looking up calmly at him and murmuring, "Hello, Edward Elric."

Ed, initially, could do nothing but stare blankly at the figure, vaguely realizing how distinctly familiar it was. For a moment, there was nothing to do but gawk as he desperately searched to find his voice, to say something, anything, to the eerie, insubstantial, misty, inhuman being before him.

This being—this thing—was…

Small beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he swallowed and, finally finding his voice, stuttered, "You're back…"

"So, you haven't forgotten, then?" The small figure before him smiled in what was meant to be a comforting manner, and spoke in a gentle, soft voice. "You haven't forgotten our last meeting?" Completely unaffected by the passionate winds whipping through the vicinity, the childlike being broadened its smile into a wide, toothy grin.

"You're…Truth, aren't you?" the former alchemist asked softly, vaguely realizing what this could mean.

" 'Truth', the god of Death, the god of Life…. Countless aliases, but only one entity. Put simply, I try to…" It declined its head, circling Edward as if studying him. "…keep the universe stabilized." The figure paused and looked up at him. "But what about you?"

Ed merely stared at the being, not knowing how to respond.

"Have you wondered...who you are? Not that it matters, really," it added, "since your predetermined string of fate ends now. Still, after all that alchemical meddling you so foolishly performed, you should have been wondering it, at least..." There was a pause in which the entity studied the frowning young man before it. "Shall I sum it up and conclude incase you do not comprehend?" it inquired, its thin mouth curling into a devilish smirk. "You see, Edward Elric, you've misbalanced the world, and so…" Its voice hardened. "…I want an equivalent exchange."

He gaped at the spirit before him, vaguely realizing what it was insinuating. "No…!"

"And I want it…now."

-

Black.

Black as the void between good and evil. Black as a shadow hidden, shrinking, trembling within its own ominous gloom. Black as night. Black as the universe. Black as everything. Black as nothing.

And then—

White.

A small yet significant shimmer of white illumination emerged invitingly from a partly open gate. And as the golden-haired man neared it, he found himself wondering profusely on what was on the opposite end.

He extended his arm to feel the gate before him, brushing the palm of his hand over it long enough to sense its cold, hard texture. It seemed almost unreal.

But unreal things were not tangible, right?

So… he concluded, still running his hand over the thing and not yet daring to peer inside the cracked doors, I'm here again… aren't I?

And suddenly, the strange illumination emerging from the door was no longer neither light nor dark, but, disturbingly, something precisely in between. It was true that the tiny bit of radiance provided him the means to accurately see the opened doors before him—but it was that same bit of radiance that provided him the means to accurately see into the opened doors.

Thousands of pairs of eyes stared back at him, blinking, watching his every movement, his every twitch, his every expression. Unable to tear his gaze away, he squinted to look deeper.

Past the eyes was something he hadn't yet seen. Images of birth, of death, of pain, torture—bloodcurdling screams of agony—unknown secrets of the inhabitants of the world—babies and infants bawling dreadfully— And past that, farther into the depths of nothingness, was his second and last glimpse of "the truth."

"Damn it…" Edward whispered, shoving the loose strands of unbraided hair out of his eyes. He knew what had happened the last time he had entered this place; it seemed that one only saw the Gate when his or her life was—due to the improper use of alchemy—in great, great danger.

"So what the hell…does this mean, then?" he muttered to himself, frustrated.

And when a high-pitched, childlike voice emanating from seemingly nowhere answered his question, he knew he should not have asked. His head jerked violently in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from.

"Why don't you tell me the answer to that question, Edward Elric?" A mirror image of himself materialized before him, giving Ed the distinct impression that the spirit twas now toying with him. "After all, you do love bending the rules, don't you?"

His stomach lurched.

"And you do love defying the will of God, don't you?" the spirit continued, still taking on the shape of Edward, who, now shaking nervously, was thinking very quickly. "So tell me: Why is it that, even after being sent to Earth for five years of your pitiful life, there's still been so much trouble back in the 'alchemy' world? Why is it that 50 percent of that trouble centers around you? And, most importantly," it snarled, "why the fuck haven't you been killed yet?"

"What the hell are you—?!"

"Please—sitdown."

And, as if on cue, his legs immediately gave way. The ex-alchemist struggled to stand and somehow run the hell out, but the only result was further shaking and sweating of his body. He gasped for air in what suddenly seemed to be a space of exponentially depleting oxygen.

The spirit shook its head pityingly. "You still have no clue why this is happening, or who I am…yet you have the audacity to use such language toward me? A bit…sad, your kind—but maybe this will ease things."

Slowly, "Truth" was morphing into the shape of a different human, one with flowing, brown hair, light skin, and familiar eyes…

Edward had lost all dignity. "Mom… Please…"

"Edward, I'm really sorry…" she sobbed. "This was the last thing I thought I'd ever do, son, but… " Her voice was gentle—as soft and comforting as it always used to be. "But I…" And her glistening eyes… they seemed deeper than ever. "…am going to have to"—the woman swallowed—"kill you."

"Please—"

His voice breaking, his mouth trembling, Edward muttered a final word to her:

"Mom…."

Struggling to tear his eyes away, to scream desperately for help, his body shook violently.

Lips moved but no sound emerged. When he tried to shout mentally, no thoughts came. His mind and body seemed blank, useless, as dozens of bony, pale, decaying hands reached out from the depths of the Gate, grabbed his desperately struggling body, and dragged it into hell.

---

Author's note- Um... Wow. Yeah, if you're confused, don't worry; so am I. This is not a one-shot, and this chapter was actually only a prelude to the actual story. If possible, could you please review?