“Will she remember what has been done to her?” a deep voice asked.

“No, Sire. As one of the condemned, she should have no memory of her life from before or how it was taken.”

A heavy sigh filled the air, then–regret. “I did not want her–of all those condemned–to be made such an example of.”

Dark laughter echoed in response. “And I, as your Chief Alchemist, am proud to offer my services to thee, King Rufius.”

“Do not play me for such a fool, slave,” King Rufius spat. “I know not what your true motive is, but I’d be an idiot to believe that you have no other agenda than to punish this child for her murdering crimes.”

“Too true, sire. Too true. Shall we proceed?” the Alchemist said, quickly changing the subject. “Remember to say these words in the precise order as they are written on the parchment.”

“Are you sure she can’t hear us?” the King asked. “Will her powers remain latent?”

“What a question, Sire. I do not believe she will ever come into her powers again. Her grandmother saw to that.”

“That’s almost reassuring, Maximillian.”

“Glad you’re pleased, sire.”

“Let’s get on with this then. Seraphina Mylnar, I, King Rufius of the Eighth House, banish you from the Veil. May your Sight be hidden from you, and may you find Refuge among the Progenitors.”

The Alchemist squawked, “But, Majesty! That isn’t what that parchment said! You’ve given her a chance like all the others, a–”

“It’s enough for now, the King interrupted. “We, Maximillian, are not animals. You’d do well to remember that.”

“As you wish, Sire. Guess I’ll have to alter the formula then, now that these ingredients have been altered. William? Where is that boy?”