I kept up
With the prophecy you spoke
I kept up with the message inside
Lost sight of the irony
Of twisted faith
Lost sight of my soul and its void
Think I'm unforgiven to this world
Took a chance at deceiving myself
To share in the consequence of lies
Childish with my
Reasoning and pride
Godless to the extent that I died
Think I'm unforgiven to this world
Think I'm unforgiven
Step inside the light and see the fear
Of God burn inside of me
The gold was put to flame
To kill, to burn, to mold its purity

Shadows covered the lithe form of a young woman. Her eyes blazed in an intense amber-red as she watched the scenes played before her. Her hair, a red of darker, almost sinister, color. She looked up from the illusions of what has happened and met her lover's gaze. Hard brown eyes met her own, though they were softer than normal as he looked into her eyes. She indicated the water-filled bowl between them, now showing a grieving Set preforming rituals over a dead bodyguard's feminine form.

"You wish for me to attempt where the child failed?" Rishaka inquired, her voice soft and silky. Her lover never looked away from her eyes as he nodded wordlessly. "For you, I shall do anything."

"I know." Akefia replied smoothly. He flicked a strand of white hair from his face. "You are the one destined to kill the Gods-cursed Pharaoh. Not even Set and Jardina could succeed."

"Indeed." Rishaka looked back to the bowl. No emotions showed as she watched the grieving High Priest honor his love. "Poor Set... Jardina..." She smirked cruelly.

"Not as poor as Atemu shall be.." Akefia laughed, equally as harsh.

"Agreed." Rishaka replied smoothly. A dark smirk graced her features.

Then Akefia surprised her: he blessed her with a gift. Her eyes widened slightly as she brushed her figures across the leather bound golden hilt of the most beautiful dagger she'd ever seen. She drew it from its black leather sheath and looked at the black blade, admiring the fierce sharpness of its build. 'Light,' she noted as she pulled a flip with graceful weapon, 'but strong..'

"Akefia, where?" She trailed off, admiring the blade still.

"The High Priest himself. Use it to kill the Pharaoh, and his soul shall never rest in piece." Akefia snickered cruelly.

"Then I shall use it." She looked at Akefia, mischief in her eyes. "Such a gift shouldn't go unanswered.."

"I was hoping you'd say that.." Akefia said, dulling the fires around them. The master thief brought her from the tomb and back to his tent.

sssssssssss

Rishaka slipped into the palace at dawn the next morning, clothed in a dark attire. The guard had doubled in a vain attempt to protect the Pharaoh after Set and Jardina's blundered attempts at his life. She suppressed a snort of contempt at the two. Still, the guards searched in vain for the escaped Priest, and she doubted that such a band of fools could ever achieve to find him.

Again, as she had all that morning, she remembered his look of pure shock and grief when he'd seen her blood-covered body. For a moment, her mind wandered, wondering if Akefia worried for her. She snapped her attention back to business as she ducked into a crevasse to avoid the attention of a passing guard. When he'd gone, she crept onward, her attention to every detail around her increased. If even a shadow befell her, she would be dead. Not even these fools could ignore the young woman, nor overlook her attire.

There were two ways to assassinate someone undercover: through disguises that could bring one close, such as a guard, or an attire that allowed its wearer to sink into the elements around them. Now, she embraced her best element: darkness. She slipped into a hall, and nearly walked into a young man. Startled, she lunged at him, gaged him with her hand, and dragged the surprised and fearful youth into a nearby room. Once the door was closed and locked, she turned her attention to her newest victim.

He stood about 5'7, equal in height to her. However, his light coating of muscles suggested that he was no fighter, ruling out him being a guard. Even she herself, Rishaka realized with a start, was stronger than this dark skinned youth. His hair was uncut, spiked, and an odd mixture of dusty white and pale yellow. His narrow amethyst-purple eyes were wide in surprise and fear. That and one other thing made Rishaka narrow her eyes in return. He smelled strongly of blood...

She chanced him escaping later and describing her face to someone later to draw her shawl back. She sniffed at the air, and shuddered. The boy reeked of blood! She grabbed onto him and twisted him around, ripping his shirt off. She then riped his shirt, gagging her prisoner with a strip of his own clothing, and thrust him up against a wall. He moaned in fear as she pressed him against the unyielding stone wall, staring in open shock at his back. For a moment, she wondered if what she saw were whip-lashes, but all too swiftly she realized that the wounds that scored his back were not only purposefully inflicted, but were filled with ink, tattooing his back with markings.

Illiterate, it took her another long moment to realize that these wound-tattoos were also created in Egyptian script. Horrified, she lost her tight grip, allowing her prisoner to wrench free of her grasp. She easily caught up to him as he tried to flee. She slammed him back against the wall, retying her shawl.

The younger boy whimpered and muttered against the gag, shaking in fear. She growled in anger at him and drew a plain steel knife, ready to finish the job. No matter what this boy had been through with his scars, he was a potential threat. But then something else caught her eye: a golden rod that was tied to his waist. She took that, knowing that Akefia would appreciate such a thing. For some reason, the boy quite struggling after that. She frowned at this, and eyed the door. Had he seen something she had failed to recognize?

She pulled him back from the wall and slammed him against it, hard. He cried out in pain and surprise, and slid with a painful slowness onto the floor, leaving a red streak of blood against the wall where his head touched it. She went over to the still locked door and pressed her ear against it. No noise came to her, save the marching footsteps of a passing guard. Even muffled through the thick door and by her thick black shawl, she could expect to hear anything dramatic that could have changed her prisoner's attitude. She heard nothing of the sort.

'Then, he must imagine that I'm but a thief, not a killer!' She allowed herself to laugh mentally at that. 'The fool is clueless!' She went back over to him. Only stunned and in pain, he looked up at her with clouded and confused eyes. She could hear him asking questions now. 'Why are you here? Why don't you leave? What are you looking for, thief?'

She knelt down by him, and carefully undid the gag. It was a foolish idea, but she needed insight. And, according to the golden rod she now had, he had connections within the palace. She could use him, then kill him later. Or perhaps she could bring him back for a slave. Painful as his fresh tattoo-wounds look, and certainly he could be stronger, but he looked healthy and able to learn.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a moan of pain escaped his lips. He was being oddly quiet, making Rishaka wonder how badly she might have wounded him. But after a few seconds of attempting to speak, he managed to whisper a few broken phrases in a foreign language. Did he not speak Egyptian? Rishaka growled in impatience.

"Speak Egyptian or not at all, least I loose my temper." He paled at her dark words. Or was it because of her shadowed appearance, her dagger ready to slash at his throat, or her words muffled and echoing sadistically in the room? Though she knew it was some combination off all of them, she only growled more as he stopped speaking. He must understand her, even if to a point. But that he didn't return her threatening words, even in a babble of Egyptian, made her wonder again if she'd damaged his head too badly.

"I... am... Marik..." He spoke with a heavy accent, through which Rishaka could just barely understand him. She stopped growling and listened. "What .... what do... you... need..?"

'He only knows a bit of Egyptian... And what a strange name..' Rishaka mused. 'He must not know the words for help, that's why he went quiet.' She pressed the dagger against the boy's... Marik's... throat.

"Please.." He rambled on in his language, obviously begging for Rishaka to let him live. She swiftly grew irritated by his babbling and grabbed a portion of his oddly colored hair, and roughly pressed him back against the wall. She hissed at him, making him grow quiet, his eyes wide in surprise and fear.

"Silence. What is... are... these?" As she asked, she drew he blade of her dagger across his scarred back. He tensed, but she repeated her question. It took a few minutes of repetition until he understood. He then shook his head, though whether he was trying to tell her that he didn't know how to answer, or if he was thinking about explaining it, Rishaka didn't know. She returned the dagger to his throat, forcing him to look into her amber-red eyes, and waited.

"M...Marks... Of.... Priest...." He stammered, shaking like a leaf. Rishaka knew that looking into eyes the color of red-amber had that effect on people. She was amazed that Akefia could look into her eyes and only love her more.

'The markings of a Priest?' She wasn't sure if this was right, but the idea made her edgy. Even she knew it was bad luck to kill a Priest, especially if he was innocent of any crimes. 'But, is he innocent?' She looked back over the writing on his back, wishing that she knew more than a few words. Though there were only a few, she was certain that she couldn't read a fraction of it.

"Atemu...." He muttered, maker her even tenser. "For... Atemu.." For a brief second, anger flashing in his eyes, drowning out fear.

'A Priest? No... Not even Set was marked so. Then, what was this... Marik... To Atemu?'

"Atemu.." She pressed. "I am here to kill him."

"Who?" He questioned, gesturing at Rishaka.

"The Pharaoh's enemy." She replied coolly. That anger... "Perhaps we should be.. allies?"

"Allies.. Yes... Kill the Pharaoh.." Marik looked rather thrilled at the idea.

"Where is Atemu now?"

All fear of her was gone, replaced by calm determination. "Throne Room. Come.. follow.." He stood up shakily, but Rishaka only pulled him back down.

'This boy is clueless.' She sighed out loud.

"Stay. Wait." She ordered as clearly as was possible with her shawl covering her face and mouth. Marik still seemed to get the idea. He nodded calmly and watched her get up and leave.

She slipped swiftly and silently down the hall and was soon in the Throne Room. Atemu himself stood calmly at the window, looking down. Rishaka crept up behind him and drew a wooden club. She wouldn't kill him, yet. She lashed out at the Pharaoh, the heavy wood and his head meeting with a sharp crack. She grabbed onto him and dragged him out of the palace. It was hard, dangerous, and exhausting, but it worked well.

Soon, she had dragged his unconscious body into a cave, and took off her shawl. She looked around briefly before going back outside to hide her tracks. She returned swiftly to see another man standing over the Pharaoh's body.

"Hold, stranger. He's mine." She growled, unsheathing her black knife. The stranger's blue eyes flickered from her face to her knife and back.

"Ah, Rishaka. Akefia told me of you." He smirked.

"High Priest Set." She replied calmly. "You look rather skinny. Exile been bad?" She teased coldly. "Loosing your love mustn't have helped."

"And what of you?" He returned coldly. "Akefia is dead." Without saying another word, he strode purposefully into the cave.

Rishaka stood shock still before she recollected her wits. She re-sheathed her dagger and picked up the still unconscious Pharaoh. She then walked deeper into the cave, following Set's fading figure. Soon, they reached a large chamber, the one Rishaka had seen the night before in the bowl of visions. She looked around before her eyes came to rest on a fresh, unburied mummy. Her midriff was visible, showing the scar that had been Jardina's death wound. Her eyes traveled again, and she stopped to admire another body.

"Marik." She purred. He was nearly diced open by a thousand wounds, but she recognized his odd hair and purple eyes. She smirked into his eyes, glazed in heath, and moved on, placing Atemu on a nearby table that was unoccupied. Briefly she wondered what had happened to the boy, but the thought died in her mind. She looked around, and saw Set standing by the last table large enough to hold a body.

Her mind became numb with shock as she looked upon another all too familiar face. Akefia. She forced herself to go near to Set, to look upon her lover's deathly-pale face. He drew a breath, to her relief, but winced as she heard blood make the noise gargled. He looked the same as Marik, only alive. She reached out and touched his face, his wounds leaving blood on her hand.

"Akefia..." She whispered.

"He grew worried for you. Left to the palace when you weren't back by high noon. The fool. Both he and Marik were caught in your wake."

"You knew Marik?" She asked, forcing herself to look away from her dying lover's face and into Set's cold gaze.

"I knew him. Briefly." Was all that he said in reply. Akefia drew another labored breath, and Rishaka could bear it no longer. "I could make it so you two shall meet again."

"I beg it.." She whispered hoarsely. Set smirked and set an open jar by Akefia. As the former King of Thieves drew a final breath, Set placed a beautifully decorated item in the vase. He closed it softly and looked at Rishaka. She, despite her years of not only witnessing death, but killing herself, found it within herself to weep for her lost love.

She looked up at Set, her eyes begging for him to preform the rights for Akefia as he had for Jardina. He never met her eyes, but simply nodded. She wanted to thank him, but managed to keep a little composure and dignity. She followed him to Marik's body, and watched in confusion as he took a similar vase and opened it. He then hesitated, and Rishaka felt the oddest desire to supply something for the lost boy. She pulled out the rod that she had stolen earlier and held it out to Set. His eyes widened at the sight of the rod, and he took it swiftly.

After a moment's mental debate, he carefully deposited the rod into the jar and sealed it. He then walked away, most likely to see to his own lover's burial, leaving Rishaka with the two only people that she had even spared a second thought for. And now, both of them were dead on the same eve, a day after Jardina was killed. She then drew her dagger and advanced upon the Pharaoh's unknowing body, and slashed him open with all of her remaining energy. She watched his heart slow, his blood covered her entire body as he bled upon her. The scent of his blood drove her into a madness as she finally plunged the blood covered knife through his heart, ending his horrible reign.

Shaking, she looked up to see a jar, similar to the ones resting by her love's side and Marik's shoulder. She had a mental fight on what to do about this, and decided against breaking the jar, least Set go back on his promise. Instead, she wiped her bloody hands off on the Pharaoh's clothing and opened the jar. Inside rested a small puzzle. She took it out and took the upside-down shaped puzzle apart. She then put it back in the jar, and resealed it. Still shaking with madness and grief, she took up the dagger from Atemu's chest and went over to the table where Jardina had been only a short time ago. She breathed a sigh as she took her plain dagger and said a brief farewell to this world.

With Akefia's dagger across her stomach, she drove her own dagger into her chest, and felt her own life ebb away slowly. She gave a shuddered sigh and relaxed into death's hold, knowing that Set would allow her to be with her one true love again soon.

sssssssssss

Set came back into the chamber and stopped dead. Pharaoh Atemu's body was now torn open. Obviously Rishaka had attacked him in her grief. He went over to his cousin's still body and looked down. Oddly, the jar seemed in tact. He would have thought that she would have destroyed the Pharaoh's last shot at immortality. He didn't need to look over at the table where Jardina had been to know who rested atop of it, dead.

He sighed, almost irritated, and looked upwards, "By Ra and Anubis, at this rate I won't have any jars left!"