A/N: WHOOPS. I'm not dead. I am, however, a piece of shit.

Chapter Two: One Foul Step From the Abyss

Amidst those walls, creed of dementia

Annihilated by sheer weight of the surge

Put to the sword, freed from their calenture

The great estate was given straight to the church.

The wind whipping at Marik caused a deep stirring of distaste within him. All too soon did he miss his sister's warm hearth and equally warm heart. As he glanced back over his shoulder, he thought he might see the flames flickering still through her small window, but it could have very well been his imagination. It was prone to running wild, especially in the dark forest surrounding St. Peter's. A tree limb became a hand, a root a leg. Nothing was safe from the mind's cruel and forced illusions.

A violent shudder tore through him, the sort to make his muscles ache and he hurried on that much quicker. Though wholly undesirable, St. Peter's did offer warmth and his bed, and that was what pushed him on, and not, he thought, the quiet groans of the tall trees surrounding him. Certainly not.

Soon this land would belong to the church, but Mark doubted seriously that that would solve any of his problems. The church had no luck chasing away his demons before, and those lived simply in his mind. There was absolutely no telling what lurked beyond these trees, what twisted in the darkness.

Stopping that train of thought before he turned shadows in to goblins, he trudged on. At least there, nestled amongst the underbrush, the wind could not tear at him as it so wished to do. When a tree to his left groaned in the night, he clenched his jaw, refusing to allow himself to move quicker. No damn tree would instill fear.

But, he supposed, it wasn't just the tree. It was that deep, tell-tale whisper that he was not alone. His body, without his consent, picked up on the vibe of a predator and warned in with a feeling of deep foreboding, both urging him forward and freezing him in place.

In a moment of morbid humor, he thought that perhaps there should be a third unit added to the fight or flight response, and he thought it to be freeze.

But again, even as that whisper told him something was near, he pushed on. A tree was a tree, a limb a hand- no! A limb.

Ahead, in the watery light of the moon, something glinted. Something gold. Of course this piqued his interest. As far as he knew, no one took this shortcut but him. The whispered tales and rumors scared the lesser students away. Marik still sometimes snorted when he thought about their pale, stricken faces as they uttered words like 'evil' or, his favorite, 'possession'.

Oh, yes. A demon did indeed dwell in these woods, and he went by the name of Ignorance.

Laughing at his own joke, he bent to brush leaves away from the golden object. Oh, irony. Two snakes, intertwined, and covered in gold lay nestled among the foliage. Perhaps the students there were right, and a demon had lost it while looking for prey. Oh the absurdity.

Of course Marik was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he took it. He did not wear it though. Mud still caked it, keeping him from opening the latch. Even if that hadn't been covered, he didn't know if he would put it on. He had so few uniforms, he didn't need to dirty one for the sake of fashion.

As he opened that creaky gate, he idly wondered if he would be allowed to wear it. Snakes were nearly forbidden here, as signs of evil and wickedness. Signs of the devil himself. So, he decided he would wear it beneath the collar of his uniform. The snakes were not so bulky that they might be noticed.

He allowed the gate to slam, announcing his presence to the irritable and cold night watchmen who gave him stern looks and ordered him to his quarters immediately, because didn't he know curfew was a mere ten minutes away?

"Of course, gentlemen. I was merely taking a walk." He gave an exaggerated bow and disappeared through the nearest oak door, letting out a sigh when some warmth began to seek into him. He still could not feel his fingers, but that was no matter. Soon he would be asleep, not feeling anything.

The corridors were silent as he made his way to his rooms, and while he normally might stir up a fuss with how loudly he scuffed his boots along stone floors, he simply did not have it in him to do so just then. The snakes were still clenched so tightly in his hand that they bit into his skin, and he did not want to risk discovery with them. They were a treasure, he was sure. How else would he explain the undeniable pull he felt to the object? Perhaps, he thought, it was the money they would run for. Not that he would sell them. But it was a comforting thought.

"Oi," he uttered quietly as he opened the door to his dorm. "Yuugi." His roommate looked to be asleep if the lump under blanket was any indication. He waited just a moment more, to be sure the breathing he heard was easy and deep, not forced, before he moved to his wardrobe.

Carefully he removed the box hidden beneath folds of casual clothes. A large lock marked the front of the box, and the key resided under his shirt. Opening it quietly, he let out a small breath. All his treasures hid there. A ring of his mother's that sealed a worn drawing of her laughing, one of Isis' earrings that she'd given him upon realizing she would never find its twin, and soil from his childhood home. It had been hard to let go of that land. That was where his mother lay.

Letting out his bated breath, he allowed the necklace to rest atop all of those items and quickly closed the box. Once it was locked again and hidden away, he undressed, diving beneath his blankets for refuge.

That night he dreamed in gold.

So, the boy had taken the snakes. The necklace of Harmonia, of discord, of strife.

How, Mariku wondered, had the boy not questioned the gift so surreptitiously hidden in the dank woods? Did he truly believe fate might be so kind? No, fate had never been kind to that boy, Mariku knew. He could smell the deep twisting sadness beneath his exterior. He hid it beneath anger, because it was so much easier to be angry than sad. Sadness gave you no goal.

Ah, none of that truly mattered. All that mattered to him was that the boy had indeed picked it up. He'd strained to hear the way the boy's pulse had risen with the lucky find. The way he clutched it made Mariku think he might not be oblivious to the true reason he had no desire to leave it behind, but he did not worry all too much. Humans often excused everything, because it was unfathomable for something to exist without reason.

Soon, that boy would respond to his every call. The necklace belonged to him and pulsed with a darkness so old, no one could quite remember where it had come from. Mariku remembered, of course. He was born from that dark and cold flame, given one sole purpose.

To bring chaos where there was peace, death where there was life, and melancholy where there was laughter.

A/N: Honestly my writer's block just broke recently. I wrote this in less than an hour so if it's shit I'm sorry. I'm like .3 seconds from asleep.

~Nightingale.