Prologue

Black robes whispered over the stone floor, kissing the chilling flesh as the group passed by. There was no blood to soil their shoes, no stench to make them grimace. In the darkness and cover of night all was still and peaceful once more, as it should be. One figure knelt beside the freshly dead guard and gently closed the unseeing eyes before following his companions deeper into the tomb.

Someone lit a lamp as they descended further into the abyss, filling the air with the scent of burning oil and revealing ancient and colorful hieroglyphics on the walls. A thick tension covered the group like a dense fog, an anticipation so sharp a knife could cut it. It was not long before the floor finally leveled out and the entrance to the main tomb beckoned them inside. The gentle hum of the generator was the only sound that broke the silence. The lamp was put out in favor of the excavation lights that hung about in the corners of the perfectly square room. Most of the artifacts had been taken out of the tomb save a few trinkets and more importantly, the main item that the group had come for.

Sitting on a large, rectangular stone pedestal sat a small, dark wooden box. The golden lock gleamed dimly in the light, daring anyone without the proper key to open it. The leader of the group let out a dark, triumphant chuckle that sent shivers down his minions backs. The man held up a gleaming golden scepter towards the box and uttered, "Bring it to me."

An older gentleman broke away from the group, his eyes dull and empty, and picked up the box from its sitting place. The archeologist held out the box, falling onto one knee so that the object was level to his master. The leader reached into his robes, brought out a key and unlocked the box. His slave opened it with a silent command and the man grinned down darkly at the contents. With reverent hands he took the Winged Dragon of Ra out of the box and turned to his men.

"Our work has payed off my Hunters," he continued to grin madly as his men cheered at the sight of the God card. "The Winged Dragon of Ra is finally ours! Now go, I give you permission to take anything from the camp as your reward." All at once the tension dissipated as the Hunters emptied out of the tomb.

Lavender eyes glanced down at the kneeling archeologist. "You are no longer needed. Take care of yourself."

"Yes master, it has been an honor to serve," intoned the man. He left the tomb, footsteps shuffling along until the sound faded in the darkness. A moment of silence passed before the dim echo of a gunshot reached the last occupants of the room.

Marik hardly noticed. His fevered eyes were stuck on the card in his hands, thoughts racing and euphoria lifting his spirits higher than it had been in months. With Slipher and Ra in his possession, his dreams of overthrowing the Pharaoh and getting revenge were closer to being realized. The small hiccup in his plans for finding Obelisk was nothing compared to the victory he had tonight. Besides, it was only a matter of time before he found his sister and took the last God card away from her, peacefully or from her cold and lifeless fingers.

"Lord Marik."

At the mention of his name Marik scowled. "What is it?" he bit out, reluctantly tucking the Winged Dragon of Ra away in his robes. He turned to the other man that cloaked himself in shadows, not entirely unwelcome. With everyone gone, a coldness seeped from him that had before gone unnoticed amongst the warm bodies of the others. The man had his hood up, covering the top half of his face but leaving Marik to glimpse the strange and exotic markings on his chin and cheeks. Marik fought not to shiver as a wave of energy passed over him and a strange darkness enveloped the room.

"I cannot help but notice that dear Kemat is not here to celebrate with you my lord," the man said, his voice deep and matured. With every word spoken a wisp of cold air followed and seemed to jab at Marik, trying to chase away his body heat.

"There's no need for the display," Marik warned, grip tightening on his golden scepter and narrowing his eyes at his companion. He could feel his good mood beginning to wane already.

The man smiled apologetically, showing white teeth. "Forgive me my lord, the spirits are restless this night." The coldness abruptly left in a rush and coalesced around his body. The room grew noticeably brighter and warmer and the man's very presence seemed to shrink.

Marik ignored the slight. "Kemat," he tasted the name with bitterness, "is not here because my sister," the word snarled in suppressed rage, "has freed her from my control." His fingers traced the eye of Horus on his rod. Once again his plans were disrupted by Ishizu, leaving him simmering in anger and the regret that he hadn't killed her sooner. He didn't like admitting his mistake but communication was... important in these types alliances. '

The mood of his companion changed visibly. The small smile vanished and a particularly nasty curse left his lips. "You should have told us sooner," he replied sharply, matching Marik's glare with one of his own. "How long has she been missing?"

"A week." Marik couldn't help but notice the absence of his title.

Another curse. "We could have prevented this. And the vessel?"

"Still playing around on that island," Marik sneered. "Besides, she won't seek him out. She knows we'll be watching him."

His companion nodded, glare turning into a frown. "What would you have us do, my lord?"

Idly stroking the eye on his rod, Marik thought. While the Millennium Rod's power could not be trumped by a mere priestess, Kemat had fought him every step of the way, and frankly, it had exhausted him. Her will was strong, the righteous bitch. But just as he knew her every strength, he knew every weakness she possessed, and he was fairly sure that he could get some use out of her still, even if she would only be good for entertainment. After all, her life was his. "She cannot be allowed to roam freely. If you cannot subdue her, then kill her. But keeping her alive is more important that having her dead." Which brought his thoughts to another point. "The boy will be ready by then, yes?"

"I will personally make sure he's ready," the man replied, relaxing his stance. "Your commands will be done my lord." He bowed lightly to his leader and made to disappear from the tomb, taking the coldness and unnatural shadows with him as he went.

Marik watched the man leave closely, a small headache forming behind his eyes. But then he felt the outline of the God card in his robes and a wide grin stretched his face as euphoria once again gripped his mind. Twirling the Millennium Rod in his fingers, Marik began his ascent to the surface, towards his faithful, yet foolish followers and a celebration under a starry night.

Stay alert my Pharaoh, Marik thought as a dark chuckle escaped him. I'm not the only one you'll have to worry about.

Well here it is, a new fanfic! I've actually put some thought into this one. I have some outline that I've done. And I've done research, so I'm pretty serious about finishing this. I'm going to be honest, I'm not really ready enough to start posting this, but I want to see what you guys think!

DoO takes place during second season, if you haven't noticed. It kinda follows canon, but it's AU since there's a whole new cult that I've imagined and put in here. I've altered Marik's, Rishid's, and Ishizu's ages. Basically they're three years older than canon. So Marik is 19, Rishid is 28, and Ishizu is 23. There are OCs in this, obviously, but there won't be like, chapters dedicated to their point of view. Also, other than Rishid (because I like it better than Odion), I will be using the dubbed names. The only real pairing is MarikXOC, but there is mention of YugixTea, and probably some JoeyxMai and all that good stuff.

That's all I can think of for now! If you have any questions, you'll just have to wait and see what happens ;]