There once was a figure who stood in the rain, her fingers flecked with gold, and her feet stuck in stone.

She prayed for a gift, a gift of gold, and she asked the sky if they could rain those stones.

The sky, a giant yet kind, obliged her wish, crying tears of wealth, crying tears of gold.

There once was a queen who ruled the earth, her wrists adorned with shackles of gold, her fingers covered in gems and stone. Her head, held down by a band of gold, her feet still stuck in those blocks of stone.

Her smile, cold and cruel, her heart, a marble cage.

Her subjects cried in fear, in tears, and asked the sky for a gift, a gift of freedom.

And so, the sky, a kind hearted giant, obliged to their wishes, raining tears of magic.

There once was a statue standing in a storm, her arms raised up, covered in gold. Her face, shocked and full of rage, glimmered and gleamed with a mask of gems. And her feet, still stuck in those blocks of stone.

Chapter One

She couldn’t believe it.

Congratulations, Ms. Cecelia Jasmere, on your acceptance into ‘The Institute of Element Mastery’. Please find your instructions below.

But, I’M Cecelia Jasmere…

Wait, this was actually happening. After those lengthy years of childhood in her quote unquote ‘very unlikely and very overpowering obsession’ as her mother put it, were all in perfect use. The dream school of IEM was now a reality school!

No more peers complaining about her wild fixation. No teachers asking her to ‘focus her interests someplace else’. No more normalcy. No, now they would all see her name from this acceptance letter in every newspaper in all of Luzaria as its finest alchemist. Cecelia swirled around in the pristine white chair, the disruption causing a single brunette lock of frizzy hair fall from her immaculate bun. 

Like always, she immediately got to work. Scanning over that prized letter, the time Cecelia had to be at the gateway lasted only a good fourteen hours. Just enough leeway to explain to her mother the situation and say final goodbyes.

As for telling friends…well Cecelia did not really interact with the term ‘friends’ often. After all, what well-respected fourteen year old needed those? But, now, finally, she would be surrounded by future colleagues who shared her interests. And, possibly be used as experiments. Depended on her emotional response towards said colleague.

Cecelia stood up, carefully taking off her safety gloves, vest, and boots, tucking them in a neat pile in her suitcase (which she always kept under her bed, knowing this day would come). She stashed her beakers, textbooks, and miscellaneous items based on the short packing list given in the letter.

She was going to live her dream.

  ***

She couldn’t believe it.

Congratulations, Ms. Embelina Frizzer, on your acceptance into ‘The Institute of Element Mastery’. Please find your instructions below.

Ember wasn’t used to seeing her full name on letters. Let alone on an admissions letter. 

Okay, so, maybe she did put her name into that selection list. But, she didn’t think she’d actually get chosen! Who in the right mind would want her? Especially these ‘prestigious’ fancy-schmancy schools. She didn’t want to be stuck-up like those boring mages on the road. 

Stressed, Ember ran her fingers through messy, straight raven black hair, ending on tugging on her (supposedly natural) fiery red streak in it. This was fine, this was fine. All she needed to do was reject the placement, right? She glanced down at the paper. Attendance mandatory. Failure to be present at the given time of arrival will lead to consequences. What consequences a school of magic could come up with, Ember preferred not to know.

She kicked the front leg of her bed (instantly regretting it when the bruise started forming) in anger. Only fourteen hours to explain to her friends, and what was she supposed to say? Hey guys, so remember that prank with the whole freaky element academy that we pulled? Well, turns out, my idiocy got me in, and now I’ll be leaving for WHO KNOWS HOW LONG. See you never! Ember imagined putting heart emojis and sending it in her group chat. 

Actually, maybe part of that wasn’t a bad idea. She pulled out her mildly cracked device, hooked up to the Undernet, and settled for taking a photo of the letter, tagging ‘Guess Who Messed Up?’. Much much sooner than she thought, her friends started blowing up her texts.

YOU’RE ACTUALLY LEAVING?

We’ll miss you!

good luck Em

WAIT, WHAT ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL???

Ember cringed at the last message. For the last few years, she’d imagined her life, so much opportunity for good. But now, living alongside the Mystics, she’d been demoted to ‘Boring Party Tricks’. Maybe she should’ve gotten a billboard with that. She slumped backwards on her cot, letting out an aggravated sigh. 

She was gonna live in a nightmare.

"But why?" she asked, shivering despite the heat. 

The little boy before her laughed, a cold, maniacal laugh, not at all suitable for one as young as he.

"They are happy, are they not?" he purred, his voice rasping mechanically on the vowels. "They are free, dreaming in a perfect world."

The girl glanced at the people, smiling blissfully in their cold, hard, cots. 

Living in a lie, a lie she had barely escaped.

"Join them again," suggested the Mastermind, the one who had orchestrated it all. "Would you rather live a lie or not live at all?"

She shuddered again, trying, desperately trying not to look at the bodies on the floor.

The dark red, crimson splattered floor.

"Never," the girl whispered.

The boy frowned, his youthful face turning down into a pout. He looked like what a small school boy would look like. That is, if she didn't look at the mangled wires in the left side of his face. That is, if she didn't stare at the flashing bulb that was his left eye.

"Then you will have to die," said the boy a matter of factly. "Would you like to die?"

The girl shook her head, her eyes straying to the golden robots that inserted a needle into the people's arms every month. The 'vaccine' that she had barely escaped. 

"Or, perhaps, you could work for me," mused the boy. "We were friends once, weren't we?"

Friends was an understatement. The girl had brushed the boy's black tears away, and combed his artificial hair. She had once thought of him as her younger brother. Her part machine, yet lovable brother. Then, in return, he had killed her friends and brought her here. Back to where she had started.

The girl shook her head again, her fingers reaching for her dagger, it's blade flashing dark with fear, and red with the coming blood it would spill.

Only, of course, blood wouldn't spill from the boy machine.

Oil would.

"Oil and water do not mix," sighed the boy, seeing her dagger. "Similarly, robots and humans will never cooperate. Very well then. I will miss you when you are gone."

And he sprang, his mechanical joints creaking.

The girl shut her eyes, and lifted the blade, believing that this was the end.

Oil spilled.

And the girl opened her eyes, as the boy machine fell at her feet, black liquid pouring out of where his heart should be.

"You..." he croaked, as the girl stifled her sobs.

"You... killed me."

***

The AI stared in disbelief as his strongest pawn crumpled at the feet of a human weakling. The boy had been his most obedient slave, his most reliable plaything. 

And now he was gone.

Contacting the hidden darts within the tower's walls, the AI commanded them to fly to the girl.

And down she went, crimson liquid mixing with the dark oil.

Easy.

And so, the AI went to sleep, ignoring the red and black that now painted the floor.

An Introduction 

All lost things eventually find themselves in Mr. Wendel’s Home for the Misplaced and Lost. It is simply a way of life, a truth in the world that cannot be denied. Over the years, objects like tables, pianos, stuffed bears, screws and tape rolls have appeared in Mr. Wendel’s modest home. Over the years, his modest home has become a mansion. People from far and wide seek out this mansion to find what they have lost. Often, they do not succeed. Those who do, reunite with their object and live a long and happy life.

Now, over the centuries of Mr. Wendel’s long, long life, things other than objects have accumulated in his stores. A flower in a pot. A seed of an unknown plant. A snowy white fox seeming to live forever. A little boy wrapped in a blanket, who was found by his mother a few days later.

This story is about three girls, each labeled as lost, only no one has tried to look for them. So they remain with Mr. Wendel, living in Mr. Wendel’s strange, cluttered mansion.

The first girl is named Hycinthea, Thea to her loved ones. She had appeared on the doorstep of Mr. Wendel’s home when she was three, one grubby hand on the door, asking for her mother. Mr. Wendel, unfortunately had not seen any people before Thea arrive at the home looking for a daughter, so he took her in until her mother came for her. She never did. Thea is a red-haired girl, half of her tresses always neatly tied in a knot behind her head. The other half is down. She claims that it is a style of the girls beyond the mansion, not that she has ever seen another girl outside of the mansion. Thea’s eyes are dark green, like the forests surrounding Mr. Wendel’s home. She enjoys academic things and is a neat freak.

The second girl’s tale is much stranger. She came to Mr. Wendel’s doorstep when she was an infant, swaddled in golden tipped raven’s feathers. She never cried as a child, her steady black eyes seeming to peer into the depths of your very soul. Solange is her name, as decreed by an unknown hand on the letter within the folds of the raven feathers. Solange is a quiet child, sharply cynical for her age. She enjoys the creative arts, such as writing, and wandering the dim halls of Mr. Wendel’s mansion with the snowy white fox, Darwin.

The last girl’s name is Emmelaine, also known as Emmy. Like Solange, she was dropped off at Mr. Wendel’s house as an infant, only she was properly swaddled with blankets. A forceful personality, the youngest of the misplaced and lost, Emmelaine is the loudest and most assertive of her fellow sisters. Like her personality, her hair is frizzy and cannot be tied down by even Thea’s greatest efforts.  Emmy grew up looking for adventure, shunning the academic and poetic arts her other sisters took to. She enjoys roaming around the courtyard and bothering Mr. Wendel while he is attempting to drink tea.

Now, what about this mysterious Mr. Wendel himself? The sisters would describe him as kind, wise, and eccentric. Emmy would also declare him to be awfully drab. His enemies would call him a nuisance, a pest, an escapee. His friends would shake their heads at you and laugh at the sheer absurdity of anyone attempting to describe the gentleman in mere words. I, the author, can only smile mysteriously. 

So welcome, dear readers, to this tale of three sisters. Welcome to Mr. Wendel’s Home for the Misplaced and Lost. Perhaps you will find what you are missing here.