The last thing I remember, I was captured by some of the Pharoah's men in the Northern Kingdom. I was being led in chains back to the palace, where, I knew, death awaited me. Not that I was planning to die, of course; I was sure I'd be able to escape at the last minute. The Pharoah's guards are lazy and dimwitted – I suppose everyone's too scared of him to try to break into the holy palace, and the guards are out of practice. It's a pity really; the kingdom of Egypt should have more to show for itself. Not that I mind, of course.

I remember it was night. I'd been in hiding not far from the region where Kul Elna used to be – I'd killed a relative of one of the priests, and the penalty for that was the worst kind of torture the Pharoah's mind could concoct, and then execution. The guards forced me to walk across a good fifty miles of desert within the day. I'm not ashamed to admit that towards the end I was fainting a lot – I lasted a good deal longer than most men would. Not that they let that stop them, they just dragged me behind their horses unconscious.

It was in a rare moment of clarity that a great beam of light came down from the sky, with a sound like time being ripped in two. My head felt like it was splitting, and in the microsecond between that and flying through the void, I felt the presence of a great, unspeakable evil within me – a spirit ancient, and full of hatred, yet strangely familiar to me. I shudder now to even think of it. Whatever it was, it's gone.

I am no stranger to hatred. Sometimes, I even feel it take over me, like a night demon – but I doubt if there was ever anyone with more reason to hate. The Gods punish mortal scum, so what's so bad about retaliation? Some people subscribe to this "two wrongs don't make a right" nonsense, but I beg to differ.

There is a balance in the universe. And when a great evil is committed on one side, another great evil is necessary to restore the harmony. I'm sure the same goes for good, but that's something I haven't seen a great deal of in this lifetime.

In the distance, shimmering in the heat, I could make out what looked like water, and maybe some green…But how could I be sure it wasn't a mirage? I made my way toward it, tentatively, trying not to get my hopes up in case it was an illusion. It faded in and out in the acrid desert air.

I drew closer, and closer, and it didn't disappear. At long last, I was able to hear the trickling of water, gathering in a pool from a deep underground spring. Secretly, I thanked Ra – for I knew that another few days without water, and I'd have been just another dry skeleton stranded amidst desert sands.

It was a small patch of greenery – palms and aloe – surrounding a pool of clear water. I threw myself down at the edge and drank as much as I possibly could. I was so thirsty by that time, it might have been five minutes or two hours I was there, and it wouldn't have made a difference.

I lay there for a while, staring up at the sky. I felt finally that I might really have a chance at getting out of this place – I sensed a divine presence watching over me. Looking back, I wondered if maybe I should have thanked Isis instead of Ra for my second chance.

Isis – always my favorite goddess. As the story goes, one day Ra was asleep. He was an old man by that point, having lived since the beginning of time, and drooled while He slept. Isis silently stepped up, and formed the spit into a snake, which she let loose into the shadows. When the Sun God awoke, the snake came up and bit Him in the heel. Its poison was lethal, and Ra became deathly ill – barely able to stand or speak.

"Tell me thy name," Isis said, "for whoever shall be delivered by Thy name will live."

At that time, Ra's true name was a secret, known only to the God of Gods himself.

"I have made the heavens and the earth," said Ra. "I have made the waters and the great, wide sea. I have stretched out the two horizons like a curtain, and I have placed the soul of the Gods within them. I am He who, if he closes his eyes, darkness comes into being, and if He opens them, brings the light. At His command, the Nile riseth, and the Gods do not know His name. I am Khepera in the morning, I am Ra at noon, and I am Tmu at nightfall."

And the poison drew closer to His heart. The Sun God fell, no longer able to walk.

Isis said, "You have not told me thy name. Tell me thy true name, and the poison shall leave you."

The poison burned hotter than furnaces, hotter than the fires of Hell. And Ra, staring Death in the face, told her His Name.

Isis – greatest of all the Gods. She was a thief, like me. And yet, with infinite patience and infinite cleverness, she became the most powerful of them all, for she alone knows the secret name of Ra.

This story I'd known since infancy passed through my mind as I stared up at the blue heavens that Ra had made. I was so grateful for the water, and for my life, that I felt a false sense of security, and might have fallen asleep, had not something strange happened.

Slowly, the blue sky became brown. The voice of the wind rose to a fever pitch. I rose to my feet, wishing with all my might that I was not seeing what I was seeing.

Once a year, a great hot wind sweeps across the land of Egypt. In the cities, they bar their windows and venture outside only if absolutely necessary. In the desert, this wind is almost certain death. We call it Khamaseen.

I could see the sand being whipped into the air in the distance – the line of the horizon was becoming blurred. Scanning the landscape, I figured I had approximately an hour until the wind reached me.

For fifty days each year, the land of Egypt is layered with a thick dust, making it impossible to breathe or see more than five feet in front of you. In the desert, the wind means a vicious sandstorm which will blind you, render you speechless and helpless. The nomads who live in the desert year-round know how to survive the Khamaseen, but few else do.

I narrowed my eyes. At least I was near water. Perhaps I could stay until the wind finally died down…

But at the worst possible moment, a pang of guilt went through me. Marik was out there, all alone…and probably he'd woken up by now. Unlike me, Marik hadn't lived in the desert, that much I knew, and there was no chance he would know how to survive. I thought of myself, safe near the oasis, with plenty of water on hand, while he gasped and choked out in the endless waste, dying a horrible death.

I needed to wreak revenge on the Pharoah and his people for what they had done to me, my family, my village. Undoubtedly, I stood a better chance to survive and carry out my plan if I just stayed put. But would my victory really be so sweet, knowing I could have prevented the needless death of someone I knew, and didn't?

Who was Marik? Just another outlaw with less than noble motives. I certainly didn't particularly care for the man.

And yet…the Pharoah of Egypt had heedlessly ordered the deaths of a hundred people, with no thought of their suffering or pain. Perhaps the best revenge against him was simple doing the opposite of what he had done. Staring wide-eyed at the imminent storm, I realized this was my chance to redeem myself.

I could already feel the frenzied breezes making way for the coming blast. Working quickly, I ripped off the bottom section of my robe and wrapped it around my head, leaving only a space to see out of. It would at least ensure I wouldn't suffocate. I tied the rest of the red robe to the palm tree that grew beside the pool – hopefully I would be able to see it at a distance, and be able to get back. I was terrified I wouldn't be able to find my way back, but I tried not to think about that possibility.

I set off back the way I had come. Almost as if it knew what I had in mind, the wind tore at me as I walked, like it was trying to get me to turn back. The sky was darkening fast. I knew I was doing something stupid, and it took all the self-control I had not to bolt back to where I knew I could save myself.

I just hoped he was still there.

A/N: I'll put up more when I get some reviews!