Summary: Words. No matter what language is spoken by one person, it may be understood by another. However, just because two can speak to each other doesn't mean they can understand.

From a young age, Marik could tell that living underneath everyone wasn't the norm, for it was only he and his family that walked through the tunnels. After hearing of his family's trips and whatnot, it wasn't hard to decipher that there was more to the world that he saw before him. However, Marik didn't necessarily hateliving down below ; in fact, he enjoyed the coolness of the earth that surrounded him, relaxed him. But as a child, he was curious like most. His father disappeared every now and then, going up to the outside world—as he and his siblings christened it—for food and other various supplies. The young Egyptian couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to venture off, to walk on the ground, rather than live below it. Before his mother's passing, she would weave these wonderful stories of how the color blue stretched far beyond the horizon, and how a gold ball would float in that endless blue until nighttime, where a silver ball took its place. Those sort of things intrigued Marik far more than the pieces of silver, gold and sapphire he had to protect. Oh, how it would be to feel something warm for once and to play in the sunlight. But just as his mother's time was nearing its end, so were his chances of pursuing his dreams.

"I cannot allow it," was the answer his father always gave without fail. "Now, go to bed and get those ridiculous ideas out of your mind."

That would be impossible, he wanted to say. However, he held back his words. It was never his intention to anger his father in any way, but he wanted to go outside more than anything else. Somebody had to understand his desires, right? He stood at the doorway of his older sister's quarters, knowing that she had once ventured outside with their father several times. She could sneak him out for an hour or so, couldn't he?

"Absolutely not," she said.

"But Ishizu," Marik pleaded, "Even just for a moment, I'd like to—"

"—I'm sorry, but it cannot be." Ishizu replied as her younger brother's face fell in defeat. She offered him a small smile as she smoothed her hand over his head repeatedly in hopes of calming him. But try as she might, her motherly presence could not stop Marik's tears from falling. She quickly looked up, checking to see if there was anyone who could possibly listen. When she saw that it was relatively safe, Ishizu cleared her throat. "Perhaps in a few days," she whispered. The young boy wiped his tears with the back of his hand, staring at Ishizu in disbelief and wonder. "R-Really?" he asked, only to be hushed and have his mouth covered with his older sister's hand.

"I'll ask father if I can take you on your birthday," she said. "It's not that far away, alright?"

A smile tugged at Marik's lips as he nodded. "Thank you!" he half-whispered, half-shouted. He ran off into his room and laid down on his bed. Soon, he thought to himself. I'll be there very soon.

As their father let out a vigorous laugh, Marik's face flushed a deep, embarrassed shade of crimson as he hid behind Ishizu, whose face was tightening with anger. Once their father's laughter subsided, he looked up and met Ishizu's eyes as they were radiating with exasperation. He matched her gaze with an annoyed one as he stood up from his seat and cleared his throat. "I've said it before," he said, his voice bellowing throughout the underground. "Marik is forbidden to enter the outside world! He is the oldest son, and must fulfill his duty to the Pharaoh!" As the older man rambled on, Marik saw that his sister's fists were balling up into fists as she clenched her jaw. It was rare to see Ishizu so angry on his account. Strange as it was, Marik felt his own anger building up inside of him from the pit of his stomach.

"Why should I have to be a prisoner here?" he shouted, leaving the safety of his sister's shadow. "Why am I being treated like a criminal that has to stay trapped? Why can't Ienjoysomething for once? Why can't I—" Marik was cut off by his father's fist, tears sprouting as an unsettling warmth collected in his cheek. "A prisoner?" his father repeated. "If anyone knew how great Pharaoh Atem was and were in your place, they would feel honored! You shame yourself for denying your destiny!"

"Father, that's enough!" Ishizu shouted as she held out her arms in a protective manner. "Marik has had enough!" She knelt down to her younger brother and offered her hand. "Come. You should rest," she said as he reluctantly reached for her hand and followed her into her room. Her eyes gazed over at his bruise as she lightly brushed her fingers over it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm really, really sorry."

By the time Marik had roused from his short slumber, everyone else remained in deep sleep, thinking of nothing other than their sweet, sweet dreams. However, unlike his family, the young Egyptian was very close to finally grasping his own dream with his hands. Please, for one night, he thought as he crept through the tunnels, feeling his way to the stairway he knew would lead him to his first and perhaps only chance at freedom. As he ascended, feeling the passageway shifting upwards, Marik was sure that he reached the bottom of the stairwell. This is it, he kept telling himself.

My first taste of freedom.

To his surprise, the outside world was turning, much like the world he had just left. The air was much colder than he expected, but he couldn't tell if he was trembling from the cold or from sheer excitement. In front of him was a pile of sand that was much different than the grains in his home. He was surprised at its texture as he crawled across the dune. The boy stumbled as he got stood up, as his legs weren't used to the sand. However, he continued on, not once looking back. Instead of worrying about his home, he focused on the darkening crimson sky set out before him. There was a word for this time of day, but he couldn't remember what it was. All he remembered was how the world was set aglow after the hours had passed and coming to its end ; something beautiful.

As he continued to wander off, he noticed that there were several structures not too far from him, sitting on the horizon. His curiosity captured him, his legs carrying him closer. However, the more he traveled, the more he could he an echo of cries. It was then that Marik questioned the world around him even further, wondering if his father was right. Was the outside world truly a dangerous place?

"Hey! You!"

Marik felt his body tense up at the voice as it resonated around him. Hesitantly, the boy turned around to see its owner, only to be relieved that it wasn't directed at him. Several yards away from him was a pair of two men riding on camels, their faces hidden behind peculiar masks. They seemed to be bickering and began to become increasingly hostile towards each other.

"It wasn't my fault that he got away!" one of them shouted as he got off his camel, clutching something in his hands. The other got off his camel as well, holding a similar item.

"Well, if you hadn't actually let go of him, he'd still be here!" the other retorted.

"If you secured the shackles like you said you did, we wouldn't have this problem!"

"Oh, so it's my fault now?"

As they kept spitting their accusations back and forth to each other, Marik began to back away, taking small steps. However, once he tripped, a small scream left his mouth, leaving his hands to cover his lips. But oh, it was too late. The two men had spotted him and called out to him, asking what he was doing. And the natural response? The boy ran.

It was futile to run when the men had an advantage ; Marik knew that. But to have his life in danger was enough to make him run, in hopes to live and to keep on living. In the desert, there is nothing but dunes, so where was he to hide? He wasn't too far from his home, but he had already forgotten where to look. He was so captured by the sky and its endlessness that he didn't bother to mark the trail he came.

The hoofbeats increase in sound, but Marik was far too tired to continue on. In the coolness of the afterglow, his legs gave up, leaving him to stumble. From there, everything was hazy. However, instead of two men, there seemed to be three of them. But that third man seemed to be different. In contrast to the original two, who held their fists up in hostility, this man offered a savior's hand.