Chapter Text
Issiah Elric had always thought himself as a reasonably smart kid. He was raised in Rush Valley by, according to his father, who was incredibly biased in his opinion, the greatest automail mechanic to ever grace Amestris, and the former Fullmetal Alchemist. Issiah was taught theory by his dad, practicals by his uncle, and even the weird alchemy they did in Xing by his Aunt. And despite all of that, and even the stories that he’d been told by his family about the Promised day, and the Homunculi, and the coup, Issiah found himself staring down at an array he recognized. Not because he’d used it, but because it graced every single horror story his father had told him.
The circle was for the single forbidden topic of alchemy. Human transmutation. The single greatest taboo that it was possible for an alchemist to fuck with and yet here Issiah was, beat to shit, and about to be forced to make the biggest mistake of his life. Whoever was behind him forced his hands down to the array, and with the distinctive crackle of blue lightning that came with any transmutation, and then Issiah was standing in a place he had only heard of in stories.
Wherever he was, the place was white, except for the giant fuck off doors that he was looking at. He felt a presence and turned, coming face to face with the entity that arbitrated the distribution as well as the cost of the knowledge that came with human transmutation. “Well, well, well, I never expected to see a child of that brat come here, given the horror stories that he must tell about me.” “Well he has talked about you. So tell me what are you going to take from me for doing this?” Pain lanced up his right arm, burning and freezing at the same time, the gate swung open and dragged him in, the knowledge contained in it being shoved into his mind, and to tell the truth, Isaiah was not having a fun time.
But before he knew it, he was standing in front of truth again, now with one less arm then when he started, “I hope your trip was enlightening little alchemist “ the sardonic grin of the entity was blazing at him “Fuck you Truth.” “Oh, so rude, and we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” “I would really rather go my entire life without seeing your smug face ever again, and it still wouldn’t be long enough for me.”
Upon opening his eyes again, the first thing Issiah noticed was that his arm was now missing, pouring blood, and was hurting. It was hurting quite a lot in fact. The second thing that Issiah noticed was that he was outside of his mother’s shop. The door flew open with a bang, and out of it stepped the utterly terrifying form of his mother with the form on his father in tow “ISSIAH” the scream that ripped from her was brutal, and the sight of her firstborn son laying on the ground, just like the way his father was carried to her by the suit of armor housing his brother’s soul.
The next few weeks passed in a blur for all members of the Elric/Rockbell household. Isaiah was in bed for most of it while his mother frantically called in every favor that she was owed by the people of Rush Valley in order to build up a new arm for her son. Edward spent the time calling in old connections to find the people that were both stupid enough to try human transmutation, and then kidnap his son in order to get the reaction to work.
After the lost weeks, Issian opened his eyes again to pain, as well as both of his parents as well as his little sister clustered around his bed. His shoulder was sore and aching with slightly dulled pain, and he knew from the smell of machine oil that was so close to his nose, his arm had been replaced with an automail one. “What happened?” was what he tried to say, but all that managed to come out was just a dry croak. His mother noticed that he was awake, and was soon lifting him and putting a glass of water to his lips, soothing his parched throat. “We had to replace your arm with an automail one. And given your propensity for seeming to want to act like your father damn near constantly, I’ve made it as durable as I can. But if you break it, so help me, I will beat you to death with one of my wrenches.”
“I understand Mom. How long do you think the rehab is going to take?” “Maybe a few months, at least you only have one limb to relearn how to use instead of two like this idiot.” With that she smacked the back of her husband’s head eliciting a disgruntled “Hey” from the golden haired man. “I increased the carbon content in the top plate because your idiot father liked to turn the top plate of my work into a weapon, so if you are gonna do that, at least make sure that it doesn’t break the first time you use it.” “And once you’re out of your mother’s clutches, I’ll teach you how to fight with automail, and maybe Al can teach you how to do the alchemy you can do now.”
Having to relearn how to use a limb was, and never would be a fun process. Isaiah thanked Truth that at least the bastard hadn’t taken his dominant hand as the toll for opening the gate. His aunt Mei had even taught him alkahestry and he had convinced his mother to include the necessary sigils on the inside of his arm, letting him use both eastern and western alchemy, and do so to great effect.