TRANSMUTATION

My fellow mages quiet to a whispering hush as Professor Finlay takes his position at the front of the Alchemy classroom to begin the day’s lecture. The girls especially giving him their undivided attention.

But it’s to be expected, I guess. Ignatius Finlay is remarkably young as professors go. His long, neat ponytail of honey-blond hair making him look more like an eleventh year than an instructor. And I’ve heard it said that he cares more for talent than for pedigree when it comes to magik. Well, by my uncle, anyways.

“Now this should be a relatively simple review for…most of you, as this is your seventh year of magikal schooling.” Our Alchemy professor smiles pleasantly as he addresses the class. “Can anyone tell me who was the most legendary alchemist that ever was?”

“That’s so easy, Professor. Flamel,” my dormmate’s cousin, Miss Tegan Pritchard says in a tone that almost sounds bored.

“Ah, yes, Nicolas Flamel. French scrivener and manuscript seller. Developed quite the reputation as an alchemist before his death, didn’t he?”

They always chose Flamel. But they’re wrong. I raise my hand because this time I just can’t let it slide. Not anymore. 

Professor Finlay raises his chin slightly when he sees me. “Yes, do you have something to add?”

“Astaroth.”

“Yes, I’m aware who you are.”

I huff out a slightly annoyed breath. “No, the answer to your question is Antigone Astaroth.”

“Hmm…” Professor Finlay hums to himself as he considers my answer. He rests his fingers against his lips in thought for a moment longer before his amber-eyed gaze returns to the classroom as a whole. “Not so easy after all, is it, Miss Pritchard?”

The professor’s attention shifts back to me. “Your reasoning, Mr. Astaroth?”

“Immortality is meaningless if it imprisons you in a state of perpetual stasis.”

Professor Finlay’s amber eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Ah, well, you are correct in that regard, Mr. Astaroth. That is indeed the inherent flaw of Flamel’s Alchemist’s Stone. And one that untold numbers of mages tried unsuccessfully to solve for centuries.”

“Wait, are you telling me some lady I’ve never even heard of before solved it?” Reginald Smoot questions with a dubious sneer.

Our professor redirects the question to me with a slight quirk to his lips. “Mr. Astaroth, why don’t you answer that one?” 

I turn in my seat to face the rest of the Alchemy class. “No, she didn’t solve that problem. Antigone determined it was a pointless endeavor to transmute an inorganic substance that would only maintain one’s form so long as it was in their possession. Instead, she transmuted her own form into the one she desired most. Not a temporary change or minor illusion, but real, permanent transformation.”

“What happened to her?” Miss Aruna Kattel asks from the seat beside me. She’s quiet but curious, especially when it comes to the contributions of female mages. 

“They banished her,” Professor Finlay answers before I can.

“What?!” Miss Pritchard blurts out from across the Alchemy classroom in obvious shock.

“They refused to acknowledge she had ever been Antigone  Astaroth after her transformation,” the professor continues to explain as he leans against the edge of his desk. “Of course, I’m sure her being a 17-year-old girl at the time didn’t help matters.”

He shifts his amber-eyed gaze to me. Which reminds me, how is your aunt, Mr. Astaroth?”

Every eye in the classroom suddenly swings to me, and I feel like a lone deer in the forest. Hunted. 

Something roils beneath the surface of my skin, and an edge creeps into my voice. “He goes by Antoni now. And he’s doing alright. He’s an exceptional Artificer.”

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Chapter 19 – Transmutation, ExSpelled © 2025 by Kat Vancill

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