The man who would become Shadi grasped at the Key and Scales like a drowning man. The pharaoh had trusted him, trusted his line, to guard the Items—and he had failed. The Millennium Ring had been stolen away from its owner, and if nothing was done all of the Items would suffer the same fate.
At the very least, he thought, he must survive in some manner. He had to.
He took the golden Items in his hands and made a wish.
"I wish," he said, even as the Thief King was upon him, "to never rest until all of the Millennium Items have been returned to their resting place. Let me be the judge of those worthy to possess them."
The thief drove the knife in with such ease that Shadi had no time to cry out or to revise his hastily worded wish. His eyes dulled with pain, and before he could breathe Bakura had shoved him to the floor, planted a foot on his neck, and lowered it until there was a snap. Bakura leveled his Ring at the body with a flick of his wrist. The pointers trembled and focused, and in a matter of seconds bright green beams struck the corpse, turning it into dust. Before the thief could move further, a great roar shook the room, stopping him in his tracks.
"You're lucky Zorc has need of me, fool," he sneered. "Let's see you guard your precious Items now. I'll be back for them once I'm done with the Pharaoh, I can promise you that."
Bakura quickly departed, pausing only to spit on the pile of dust.
Shadi had no idea he was dead until his spirit rose up from the floor, where his body had been.
The realization alone nearly drove him mad.
As soon as he was aware of himself he tried to leave the tomb, to see what was going on outside, but found himself anchored to the Key and Scales. Shadi couldn't move more than ten feet beyond their pull. Any more and he would be tugged back.
Uncomfortable with his new state of existence, Shadi closed his eyes and tried to rest. Surely the Key and Scales combined could hold his spirit. After minutes of concentrating and hours of waiting, Shadi discovered that not only could he not sleep, he couldn't displace his spirit within the Items, to slumber until someone came and disturbed the peace.
The Items, it seemed, had taken him at his word.
The world hadn't ended, so Shadi was fairly hopeful that the Thief King Bakura and Zorc had been stopped. He was soon proven right, and bore witness to Priest Seto, now Pharaoh Seto, reverently placing the recovered Items in the stone tablet—with the exception of the Millennium Puzzle. That was to be placed in the Tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh himself. The Rod and Necklace, Seto decreed, would be passed down to the tomb-keepers and their descendents.
That left the Eye, Ring, Scales and Key alone in the tomb, where Shadi waited.
While Shadi couldn't remember the great Pharaoh's name, he vowed nonetheless to serve him as much as he was capable of. If that meant guarding the remaining Items for eternity, so be it.
He tried not to think about how long eternity was.
By the fifth day, boredom set in. Out of nothing else to do, and since no one was coming, he began to count the tiles on the floor.
By the fiftieth day Shadi had stopped counting floor tiles and moved on to ceiling tiles. By day one hundred, wall tiles.
It was mindless exercise, a bit of stress relief, anything to spare the monotony of staying in one room for the rest of his existence with nothing and no one for company.
It didn't help much, but then nothing did.
The first full year in the quiet tomb was a cause for celebration and dismay. Shadi had not expected things to be settled immediately, but surely those on the outside knew of what had happened. Surely there must be someone in the land of Egypt who was worthy enough to possess one of the Items.
By this point he'd grasped his new form well enough to venture into the outside world, as long as the Key and Scales were on his person. He held them close to citizens, searching for signs of worthiness, but was disappointed.
He did, however, find a petty thief, who seemed quite interested in the Key gleaming around his neck. As soon as the man touched it the metal burned him with shadows and fire, and it was clear to Shadi that he must pass judgment.
He gave him a game, and the man tried to cheat.
Shadi wondered why, exactly, he was so surprised when the Scales judged the man unworthy, leaving his soul free for Ammit to devour. He certainly hadn't done anything remotely worthy, but there was something about the man's plight that he felt sorry for.
Regardless, the Scales had passed judgment, and the Scales were never wrong. Balance was restored in the only way Ammit knew, and she swiftly devoured the man's dark heart.
By the third wayward soul he was beginning to see a pattern—those blinded by greed, mistrust, or pure spite tended to have the heaviest hearts, and in consequence, were most likely to try and rob him. Shadi also noted, with distaste, that no one came to help him in such incidences. He returned to the tomb, sullen and weary, but not yet depressed.
He would try again in the following days, and each excursion was worse than the last.
By the tenth soul he'd tried to use the Millennium Key to help them—surely they couldn't be that bad. They were.
By the twentieth he had even grown used to the screams.
By the one-hundredth soul, Shadi decided the people had no one to blame but themselves.
A person's heart, Shadi learned, was a heavy, heavy burden, easily bruised, corrupted, and weighed down.
He counted himself lucky that he had no heart left at all, for he was certain that it, too, would be eaten.
(Once, Shadi had tried to judge himself. The Scales were unable to find balance.)
Shadi found he could change his image of himself to suit his needs, and others would react accordingly. His usual form, and the one he preferred, was of a young, slim man, but he could also become a large man, or a muscular guardian, or even a small child.
The eyes stayed the same, though, which unnerved him.
Eyes were said to be a window to the soul, and his were quickly losing their shine.
Perhaps he, too, was weighed down in darkness.
Minds, Shadi learned, were different than hearts in many ways. They could be spacious or snug, open or closed. One mind he'd entered had been a dripping cavern of tar; another had been neatly organized. There was no real rhyme or reason to it, and he found himself interested, if not entertained, at the variety in rooms that made up souls.
Shadi also learned how to redecorate rooms, bending the person to his will. Some took more effort than others, but even the strongest of minds could and would succumb to him. It was only a matter of patience and persistence, and he soon had enough experience delving into minds to rearrange them as he wished, his host none the wiser.
But minds and hearts were similar in the most important way.
Too often, they were far too dark and heavy.
Shadi stopped seeking the worthy out only when it became clear that it wasn't working, and one day a person came to him. Alexander the Great, he learned, was a masterful warrior and strategist, and to Shadi's surprise, he was able to wear the Millennium Ring without burning to the bone.
The ruler's rants about power, however, left him decidedly unimpressed. And so Shadi set forth a challenge—if Alexander truly was worthy of the Millennium Ring and the power he craved, he would be able to pass certain trials.
Shadi learned that Alexander had failed when the Ring found its way back to the tomb on its own. He had the distinct impression that the soul within the Ring found whatever had happened quite funny, and did his best to ignore it.
Just being able to wield an Item didn't mean you were worthy of having one, Shadi realized. If another such person did come along, he would have to test them.
It was the only way to be sure.
Shadi did not dream, per se, as he couldn't sleep, but occasionally he had visions.
And, in his visions, there was a thief. There was always a thief.
He shuddered, having these visions.
They were a reminder of the time he'd spent alive, and his only connection to the man he once was.
He did not feel much, anymore, but he distinctly felt hatred for that foolish, foolish man and his accursed wish.
Centuries passed. Landscapes changed. Empires came and went.
People, however, remained the same.
Shadi knew this from experience.
He'd find like-minded men, Shadi decided, trying not to reflect on just how long it had taken him to come up with this idea. (If they weren't forthcoming, well, he had his ways of seeing that they were.) They would be his eyes and ears, dressed similarly, acting similarly, even looking similarly—hawkish faces, turban and robes dyed black.
These Millennium Guardians would guard the Items for him when he ventured out, and they could also go forth themselves into the outside world, seeking the worthy.
Shadi tried not to look at their eyes, which were as vacant as his own had become.
(He'd wondered what his own soul room looked like, but he was dead, and the Key could not work on him. Shadi suspected that, as of late, it was quite barren.)
Three thousand, five thousand, what did it matter how many years he'd spent waiting?
Time was meaningless to Shadi.
The Eye, which had long been dormant, began to glow. Something—someone—was destined for its power, whether they wanted it or not. The Items themselves chose their wielders, after all.
Shadi found himself smiling for the first time in—he could no longer remember. The man he'd been was long gone, the child even more so. What remained of his concept of self was buried in unending layers of disappointment, isolation, and darkness.
On some level he knew all of this, but for the most part he chose not to care.
But on another level he was eager. Finally, there would be change; finally, his actions would have meaning.
Shadi couldn't restrain his smile as his men carved a space for the Eye, as he lowered the artifact to the man's face.
Finally.
He shoved it in, and watched as the bearer was accepted. He watched as the man saw his love for an instant, but nothing more. He watched as the Eye's magic took hold, giving its bearer visions of what, exactly, it wanted him to create.
In Pegasus's cries of pain, Shadi had proof that his own existence meant something.
It seemed the tomb-keepers' legacy had gone astray in the past decade or so. Shadi stared with disapproval at the scene found before him. He would have to set this boy on the right path. The Rod may have been destined for him, but not quite like this.
He had tried to warn them both years ago, when they'd first snuck out, and look where that got them.
This, Shadi mused, was damage control. The darkness had already been sown, and were he to judge Marik's heart now, Ammit would gorge herself on its darkness alone.
But if he were to do that then the Pharaoh's destiny would never be fulfilled. The Items could never be returned if even one was missing. (An image of the sneering thief flashed across his vision, and when the ancient spirit blinked it was gone.)
So he repeated his words. Their tragedy, for disobeying, was the will of the Pharaoh. Marik must turn back now before it is too late.
Really, though, it wasn't his fault the boy misinterpreted him; Shadi only delivered the message.
(And Shadi couldn't help the twinge of jealousy he felt. No matter how young or old Marik was, at least he could grow up, age, and die.)
The curator and the professor had stolen, and thus they would be punished. Shadi followed them to their town of Domino and passed judgment. He wasn't surprised at all when Kanekura failed his test, and Ammit had one more heart to snack on.
What did surprise him was the boy with the Puzzle hanging around his neck. Yugi Muto.
He'd never had the chance to learn of the Millennium Puzzle, and now was as good an opportunity as any. Shadi hadn't expected to be drawn into a Shadow Game of his own, nor had he expected—or wanted—to lose.
The dark spirit showed mercy, saving him from the abyss, and Shadi left as quickly as he came. Yugi wasn't yet aware of his other self, and said 'other self'… was he worthy of the power he possessed? Such shadow knowledge reminded him too much of the Thief King.
Shadi had many mysteries to ponder, and another judgment to render.
He decided, in the end, on another test.
Rearranging Yoshimori's soul room was a simple affair; the girl's had been even easier. Shadi was pleased at the amount of effort he'd had to put into the game—three trials, weighing the mind and the heart. Whoever felt weakness four times total would lose. If the girl died, so what? That would simply prove that the spirit was unworthy of what had been given to him.
He had not expected the dark spirit to refuse to play, choosing to trust the distorted, twisted image of his friend rather than fight back—nor had he expected Yugi's other friends to arrive and save the girl, supporting her weight with their own.
He could not understand what had happened, and so Shadi lost the game.
Shadi wondered if perhaps he used to know what it was, and had forgotten. He could no longer remember.
The spirit explained the strange event—unity was the true power of the Puzzle.
Unity?
Friendship?
Shadi wondered, if he were to judge them now, whether their hearts would succeed where others had failed.
He decided not to test his luck—hope was as dangerous as cynicism. He'd existed too long for either to leave its mark.
Either way, he would meet them again. He could feel it. The wheels of fate were finally turning.
It was only later that Shadi learned the spirit's true identity, and felt quite horrified at the thought that he could have killed the one he'd dedicated his existence to serving.
(He quashed the resentment at the long wait as quickly as it flared.)
Shadi couldn't say what, exactly, had possessed him to rescue two of Yugi's friends from certain doom, one of whom he'd never met before.
He let the two screaming boys see him briefly, enough to catch his presence, and then departed as quickly as he'd arrived.
He was still puzzling over the matter long after he'd retreated to the tomb.
Shadi eventually decided that leaving them to die would have broken the boy's spirit, and thus cast the world into ruin—he would be unable to defeat Marik if he were shattered by their deaths.
Still, he couldn't help himself from questioning the event. The Shadi that brainwashed Yugi's friends would not have saved his other friends.
What had changed between then and now?
In an instant, the answer struck him.
He'd lost the very game he devised—by a show of their worthiness.
Shadi wondered if, perhaps, there were still things to learn about human hearts and minds.
When the Thief King returned at last, threatening to shroud the world in endless night, Shadi knew he would have to prepare a way for the Pharaoh to win.
He knew of the game's true nature, and even knew a little of how it was played, but telling them—or the Pharaoh—would tip off the Thief as well. The Scales may have judged his vessel unworthy, but thieves were crafty, and Shadi knew just being told not to enter wouldn't stop him in the slightest.
So he made two alterations to the game board to help them along the way—a figurine here, a shortcut there—and got Yugi and his friends into the memory world with the Key.
The rest Shadi entrusted with them.
(He tried not to remember the feel of the knife in his chest and the weight on his neck. There were some things you never forgot.)
The battle had concluded in light. Thief King Bakura and Zorc had been defeated for good, and the Pharaoh, Atem, had finally passed on.
But Shadi still found himself restless. Yugi and his friends had all escaped the tomb; he'd seen to that, so why was he still here? Why had he not moved on?
Was he cursed to an eternity of existence even after fulfilling all that was required?
Shadi pondered all that had happened, pondered his own actions, and realized that perhaps he did have unfinished business, after all.
It was difficult to appear before others without the Scales and Key, let alone two places at once, but Shadi could manage.
He wasn't surprised when the man sensed his presence even in the midst of sleep; Pegasus stirred and rose, starting when he realized who was there.
Marik, on the other hand, was wide awake, staring Shadi down like a cat. His eyes glimmered with suspicion.
Shadi approached them slowly, carefully, and spoke the words Yugi and his friends had helped him remember.
"I am sorry."