"Brother," Al called, "Please, slow down, I can't keep up-"

Ed looked down at his brother's bulky form, trapped and unable to clamber up onto the pile of crates he'd had to make to get up himself. Of course you can't, in that body, he thought, heart wrenching, and looked at the door ahead of them. "You wait here," Ed called. "I'll just scout ahead."

"But, Brother-"

They'd come to Drachma on the trail of the Philosopher's Stone when Ed had come across notes of a small city, Lea Monde, destroyed twenty-five years earlier in an earth quake, which was avoided as cursed - it was said the dead returned to life there, and that was a hint they had to follow.

"I'll be back shortly," Ed said, and pushed into the next room.

It was dark inside, pitch dark, and it startled him, made him realize how rare it was that all the other rooms had been lit. He began to back towards the door he'd come through, find some way to prop it open, but deeper into the room a spark flared.

He shifted and prepared to fight as the light took hold, his eyes adjusting to reveal that it was a lantern held in the hand of an ethereally beautiful man with sharp features, blond hair falling around a pale face.

"Edward Elric," the man said, his voice a strangely musical tenor, as if it carried a melody in day to day speech. "You should not be here."

The man knew his name, and Ed tensed. "We'll see about that," he said.

Turning away, the man walked around the room. "Be careful of your step," he warned, voice a soft hum. He was lighting the torches in their wall sconces, Ed saw, and the room slowly brightened to reveal a crack and crevice at the far end.

Light caught a tattoo on the man's back, spreading across his shoulders. It wasn't any array Ed knew.

Ed didn't ease out of his stance. "Thanks," he said, voice sarcastic. "Mind telling me who you are?"

"My name is Sydney Losstarot." The man turned again, and light caught his arms, both metal to the shoulders. "I'm a prophet, of a sort."

Those arms... Ed's own ached in phantom pain for a moment, but his heart was beating faster. There was a hint here, some kind of clue -- how else could he have lost the arms but through failed human transmutation? And if he'd had two failures, he may have had some successes. "A prophet, huh." Ed shifted closer. "Religious?"

A faint smile made its way onto Sydney's face. "Religious? No." He raised one hand in a dismissive gesture and Ed's eyes widened at the length of the razors Sydney had attached to the ends of his fingers. "Religion can blind. The religious man will commit sin after sin for a god he hopes will approve of him." The hand drew patterns of light in the air, then lowered. "Naturally, a lack of faith is also dangerous."

"Right," Ed said, though he felt a little relieved, even against his will. At least he knew what type of man his opponant was - and if they were lucky, he wouldn't have to fight him at all. "Look, I was wondering-"

Sydney turned away, the cape he had belted at his waist swaying out around him. "There is no Philosopher's Stone in this city," he said.

Ed stared. "What?!"

"You were talking with your brother earlier," Sydney said. He glanced back at Ed. "The walls of Lea Monde are thick with the souls of the dead, and they still listen and linger. You would do well to leave. Your brother is too fragile as he is now, and a soul that loosely attached to this world is not safe in Lea Monde."

"How did you-" Ed began, then cut himself off. He resumed a fighting stance. "If the Stone's not here," he asked, voice low, "what about the dead walking?"

Sydney gestured around them with a long arm. "The entire city is an array, Edward Elric. But it has nothing of use to you. The city binds souls to empty bodies, to armour and corpses, and that is all."

Ed started. "What sort of sick freak would make an array to do that?" he demanded.

"It wasn't the array's original intention," Sydney said. He walked to the edge of the chasm and out, standing on air. "The array draws the souls of the sacrificed, that is all. The rest... what would you do to win a war, Edward Elric?"

"I'm not interested in war," Ed said.

Sydney looked back at him sharply. "And yet you are in the military and may be called to it. And you will go, because that is the sacrifice you made for your privileges. What will you do, Alchemist, when war becomes your interest?"

"I don't kill people," Ed said, flatly. "The military will have to deal."

"They make weapons," Sydney said. "This city, as it is now, is a weapon - a boundary protection from invasion. Who was in the city when the quake happened? Do you know?"

"I don't care."

Sydney lowered his gaze first. "You'll learn to care. Take your brother and go, Alchemist. What you look for is not here. Try further to the east."

Ed shook his head. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because it is truth. This is a city of death," Sydney said. "You want life. There's nothing for you here."

Ed turned back to the door. "Fine," he said. "I'll look around a bit longer, but last year's quake seems to have blocked my way further in anyway."

"Yes," Sydney said. "Lea Monde is completely sealed off, now."

"Why're you here, then?" Edward asked. "You can't live here."

"I don't," Sydney said, and he sounded faintly amused. "But I cannot leave. I am Lea Monde's last sacrifice, and my place is the deep gap where it collapsed."

Shaking his head, Ed turned his back on the self-proclaimed prophet and left the way he'd come. "Weirdo," he muttered.

"Brother, did you say something?"

Al's armoured form was below, still peering up at the crates, and Ed kneeled on them, grinned down. "Nothing," Ed said. "Hey, let's nab one of those casks of wine."

"Brother," Al said, disapprovingly.

"Not for me! To bribe that bastard Mustang," Ed said, snorting. He mimicked Roy's voice. "'I funded your trip all the way to Drachma, and you didn't find even a false stone? Perhaps a pay cut would make up for the wasted military funds-'"

Al's voice was amused. "Brother."

"Yeah, I know," Ed sighed. "Well, back we go."

He turned and left with Al. The ground shook briefly, more of a tremor than an actual earthquake, and his arm twinged as though he could almost feel it living again. He clutched at it.

"Brother?"

The pain ebbed after a moment. "Never mind," he said. "Let's just get out of here."

Walking beside Al, he looked towards the faint gap of sunlight he could see at the exit to the wine cellar. "Ah," he sighed, and was mildly startled at the relief he felt. "I can smell fresh air."