Disclaimer: I do not own YGO. Just borrowing the characters for a bit.
for all the Revo folks, though fair warning this one is dark. Erm, please don't kick me out of the fandom?
...
The city below looked simultaneously smaller and larger than it had in Teana's dreams. Smaller, because of their position on the hilltops above, with what meager rations they carried without arousing the wrong kind of interest from the Pharaoh's guards. Bigger, because now that their plans have come to fruition, the reality of what lay beyond the dip of the Nile. All of the painstaking preparations led up to this moment- momentous, perhaps, given the scale of the operation- by all accounts her heartbeat should be roaring louder than the pounding waters below, and yet all she felt and heard was a curious sense of calm.
Treason.
High treason.
A cold smile rippled across Teana's face. There was a slice of anger to it, slivers of determination, and most of all resignation to a fate already embraced. Death had always been their destination, even as they rationalized over and over again there must be some way to right the wrongs wrought upon them without resorting to treason.
Teana had always thought there was some magic that could be performed. For all the problems of life. After all, it was magic that took everything. Dark magic, to be sure, slaughtering an entire clan of people, but that magic was merely a means to an end. Simply a tool, used for ill or gain, and the people who wielded it were responsible for its effects. As a child, she had attempted to reverse the catatrasophe that levels a once peaceful city into gutted ash, but all of her meager effects did no more to soothe the blackened earth than the piecemeal ointments she prepared against loss. As if simple concoctions of herbs can ease the pain of having an entire life stolen by in masked- well, masked no longer, not to Teana's Eye- riders claiming to do whatever necessary to salvage the empire.
Better to let the empire burn, Teana thought bitterly, than to burn its citizens as offerings. For all their talk of doing right, the Inner Council hesitated surprisingly little when it came to doing wrong in the name of whatever happened to be right according to the Pharaoh's whims. That time it had been for the greater good of the empire. Next time it could be for the betterment of hair products. There was no one to check the unbridled power of the Throne, no one to stop the next slaughtering of innocents for some vague notion of ethics.
The smile became brittle, faltering as vignettes swirled.
Mother. Father. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins both young and old. Friends. Strangers. All of whom ceased to exist after a single evening of destruction, wiped clean from existence by the simple decree of one man who couldn't even be bothered to be present for the complete and utter annihilation of his subjects, however exiled those subjects may have been.
The smell of burnt flesh followed her everywhere like a permanent stain now. If there had been justice in the world before, Teana did not entertain the delusion any longer. Fairness was a luxury afforded to the rich and powerful. Trials were predetermined for someone of her status- of, as the case was, lack of status. Bereft of family, clan, and ties, all she had to go on was her meager talent in magic, and that offered hardly any protection at all against the lecherous and greedy officials who sought to "sponsor" her for various demeaning tasks.
Well, they would have, had Bakura not been with her like a shadow.
Abruptly, the smile warmed. Then it wilted in a sudden burst of frost. The world was cruel, yes, but at least they had each other. Two sorry, scrappy gypsies playing a cruel and unforgiving game against people who all the advantages- a warm bed, education, opportunities, and hope. She glanced again at her traveling companion, who smiled and squeezed her hand in solidarity.
Here Teana paused. No, that wasn't quite right. It was not true that they lacked hope. What they have is perhaps not the blinded optimism of the Empire, yet what they had was equally, if not more, compelling than the people who slept below, wrapped tightly in hope and ignorant of the presence that loomed above.
What they lacked in hope they made up for in grit.
It had been so very hard to grow up with no family, no house, no community. They had stolen, begged, borrowed, and stole some more to survive. 'Kura hadn't started out as a master thief. He had been a gentle, happy boy in her too brief memories of paradise. One who taught her to sing with the birds who visited their small stone huts and one who soothed her cries after thoroughly thumping the neighborhood bullies. That boy vanished the night the bullies did. 'Kura never spoke of them again but, slowly, she watched him harden into cold limbs of metal. Once he had been gentle; now he was ruthless. Just last night he ordered the execution of a farmer who had attempted to betray their location to the Pharaoh's Guards. Once, long ago, she would have protested that brutal sentence of justice, now Teana just nodded her head in silent acceptance.
There was a price for everything.
They were fighting a war.
Many would die.
She and 'Kura would too, but not before the Pharaoh and his Court paid their debts.
...
A soft breeze fluttered across the courtyard. Apple blossoms quivered, then fell into the shaking waters of the bronze basin. The image of a young woman that was starting to form on the surface shattered. The only remnant was a chilly smile that winked at the sky above, then disappeared.
The reflection of the Millennium Necklace flashed in the basin before it, too, sunk into the night.
Tsk.
Isis sighed. That was the fifth time today that something had interrupted her efforts to divine the future. Someone- or perhaps something- has been blocking the Visions. Not that they were particularly clear anyway, but Isis could not recall a time that both the waters and her necklace have been silent. Master Aknadin was the most experienced Foreteller of them all, yet not even he managed to coax a hint of the storm that was about to arrive, or at least not a hint that he cared to share with the rest of the High Council.
Isis was not sentimental. She believed in the science of her craft as much as Priest Seto believed in stone cold logic. Whatever Foretellings that awaited were not going to reveal themselves tonight, just as they did not the fortnight prior. The force obscuring the Eye of Horus was strong, far stronger than she anticipated, and Isis knew the omens she sensed were gifted tauntingly, granted even, like a boon of sweets luring a small child to a maze of thorns.
Vengeance.
Master Aknadin held her gaze a moment too long when Isis reported that as yesterday's findings. There would be nothing new to report today, either. As the only remaining member of the High Council, Master Aknadin knew much and said little about this curiosity. The rest of the Council had accepted his silence on various matters as law out of deference, yet something about this unnatural silence regarding the coming storm made Isis uneasy. Nothing in particular pointed to that conclusion. Perhaps there were a few sharp questions now and then, along with brief lapses in concentration, but those could easily be attributed to the age and wisdom of Master Aknadin, right?
Isis scolded herself as she faced the basin yet again. Doubting the Senior Priest's bland denial of these mysterious events could be blasphemy, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about this unnatural lack of Foretelling that Master Aknadin was not sharing with the rest of the Council. Perhaps it was because Seto was so obstinately against all of the Visions, or perhaps it was because she herself had woken so frequently of late from nightmares of innocents being slaughtered-
Although...that was all foolishness, wasn't it?
Spirits do not seek vengeance. Humans did. And from what Isis could discern from her dreams, there was no one left in that mysterious place called Kul Elna (how had she known that name? Isis was sure that was the place, even though no records of it have ever been found in the Palace Archives) to wreck havoc on them now.
Sighing, Isis leaned forward. There was no face in the basin this time, or the next five times Isis attempted contact. No sliver of a smile either, though the blossoms continued to fall.
...
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