Chapter Four


When court convened that morning, Atem was met with grim faces. While his mind steeled itself for bad news, his heart sank at the thought of yet another possible catastrophe plaguing his kingdom. They had barely survived the fight against Zorc – some with little more than half their lives and some with lingering trauma that haunted them to this day. Akhenadin flatly refused to use the Eye, or to Summon creatures from the tablets in his Tower; Mahad recklessly threw himself into any task given to him, regardless of the danger to his own wellbeing; and Seth – Seth still woke up some nights screaming himself hoarse. He was of half a mind to plea illness and return to his rooms, but Siamun's serious expression beneath his veil rooted him to the throne.

"High Priest Shada," Siamun intoned. "You may now bring the first order of business before the Pharaoh."

Shada bowed and stepped forward, the Ankh swinging around his neck.

"Pharaoh, after the discovery of the boy, we have been regularly scouring the village ruins for any further signs of life or movement," Shada reported. He exchanged nods with Mahad. "Thus far, we have not found anymore living beings, but there has been one…unsettling discovery."

"Unsettling?" Atem leaned forward in his seat, grip on the rests of the throne tightening fractionally. "Go on, Shada."

"The underground temple that housed the Stone upon which the Items were forged has shown signs of non-human activity. The Ring detected shifts in the energy waves and the Ankh hears the voices of those spirits who have not been laid to rest, haunting the temple and the Stone."

"But we made sure the souls of the sacrificed were properly buried," Siamun protested. "The proper rites and formalities were performed and a proper burial was given for those who had been left above. There should be no reason for their continued anger."

Mahad bowed and stepped out next to Shada. He lifted a hand to the centre of the Ring around his neck.

"Pharaoh. The Ring detects the magic of the other Items and, with sufficient training and application, those who have strong Ka. Since fusing my Ba with the creature of my soul, I have experienced leaps and bounds with my utilisation of the power of the Ring. It showed me the truth behind the creation of the Items before – and now it has shown me the coming of great danger.

"We have sensed the spirit of Bakura, the Thief, and his Ka creature, the dark spirit of Diabound, stirring beneath the Stone."

Shouts of shock, horror and disbelief broke out at the declaration. Isis pressed a hand to her chest, fingers grazing the edges of her Necklace as if hoping it would grant her a vision to contradict the news. Karim's grip on the Scales grew so tight his knuckles turned white and his nostrils flared with laboured breaths. Akhenadin visibly staggered backwards, his remaining eye wild. Atem slumped back against the high back of his throne, shocked.

"Bakura?"

"Diabound?"

"Impossible!" Seth shouted over the din. He brandished the Rod at Shada and Mahad. "Bakura perished! We all witnessed him turn to dust before our eyes!"

"Be that as it may, Seth," Shada replied, unfazed by the other's anger, "it is what we saw. We are willing to swear by and attest to it before the Scales."

Seth glanced at the Scales in Karim's hands with narrowed eyes. Atem could see him struggling internally with the facts being laid before him and the overwhelming desire to believe otherwise. He understood the feeling. When they all looked to him, as the Pharaoh, for a decision, he clamped down on the conflicting thoughts and emotions raging through him, forcing himself to think. Shada and Mahad's observations were still in their early stages, products of senses and stirrings only. There was not much they could do until the threat revealed itself to them, except to keep a keen eye on developments in preparation.

"If there is one thing to be learned through our previous dealings with the King of Thieves," he began carefully, keeping an eye trained on Seth, "it is that we must never take things at face value. Although we do not have concrete proof that Bakura has indeed survived the battle, we also cannot rule out that possibility."

"It is as you say, Pharaoh," Akhenadin agreed. "Furthermore, the possibility of Mahad sensing Bakura's presence through the Ring is a very real one – considering the Thief had taken possession of the Ring for a considerable length of time before, it may have attuned itself to him."

Atem felt, more than saw, Mahad flinch. It was nothing more than the truth, but to Mahad, it was as if Akhenadin was laying bare his greatest failure. It also raised the fear that the power of the Ring may have been tainted by its association with Bakura, putting all of them, especially Mahad, in danger of evil influences. Atem suppressed the urge to give his childhood friend a sympathetic glance, knowing that it would do nothing to assuage his guilt, and instead focused on the issue at hand.

"What we must do now is to cover all bases." He turned to Shada. "Keep men posted in the village at all times – you may determine the number yourselves. They are to report daily of any and all activities that occur. One of you must lead patrols there at regular intervals to personally inspect the situation and report directly to me. This will begin immediately."

"Yes, Pharaoh."

Shada bowed. Atem then addressed them all.

"For the purposes of training, I will henceforth reinstate the practice of Duelling," he continued. "This is, of course, restricted to those of us who wield the DiaDhank – as well as any soldier who is able to harness and control the power of their own Ka creature to a predetermined capacity."

This announcement was not met with any enthusiasm and Atem had not expected it to either. Akhenadin had renounced his DiaDhank after the battle was over, citing a desire to never come into contact with the power to control souls ever again. The last time Mahad had Duelled, he had used up all but a thread of his Ba to fight Bakura and no one knew if he had enough power left. Seth could not even bring himself to enter his Tower, let alone call upon the powers that lay within. Karim, Isis and Shada had barely managed to survive. They had all but exhausted their powers, some more so than others, and were tired of fighting.

"It is necessary," Atem said firmly, before anyone could voice a protest. "We understand that no one wishes for it to come to this, but if a battle is what transpires from these events, we must be prepared."

As a collective, the Six High Priests bowed before him, the silence in the chamber sending up an eerie atmosphere.


The weeks passed by relatively without incident. Ryou's injuries healed slowly, not from the lack of expertise or care on the healers' parts, but due to the sheer number of them and the length of time for which he had had some of them. The main concern was the years of starvation and beatings he had endured, which had resulted in his weak constitution and inability to keep down heavier foods for the first week or so. He also tired easily and so it a suitable daily routine was suggested by the healers and agreed upon by Seth.

In the morning, the first hour past dawn was for the healers monitor his progress. Seth was usually present for these sessions, staying for most of the morning after they had left. The next several hours of the morning were when Seth conducted lessons in scribe's work – reading, writing and basic sums – until court was in session for the day. When he left, Ryou had two hours of his own free time, in which he usually rested in his room to avoid the midday heat. After court, around mid afternoon, the healers returned. He was left to his own devices for the rest of the evening and usually took the time to practice his lessons.

It was a simple routine that put no undue strain on him and he soon found himself settling in quite comfortably. As a slave, he had never been treated with any care or kindness and found it to be daunting at first to speak to Atem or any of the High Priests who came to visit him in the evenings. He was particularly nervous around Akhenadin, whom he knew to be the Pharaoh's uncle. The elderly Priest carried with him an air of austerity that commanded respect, but who was also rather intimidating, especially when he was present as the healers worked their craft in the afternoons. He would stand a safe distance away from the bed, arms crossed and golden Eye glinting underneath the hood of his cloak, silently observing Ryou as the boy reluctantly allowed the healers to apply salves and balms to his wounds. He rarely spoke directly to Ryou except to greet him as he walked in or out of the room and Ryou was not entirely sure what he had done to warrant his attention.

As a matter of fact, Ryou had begun to notice just how differently he was being treated by the Pharaoh and the Priests. He had had several of his acquaintances from his days a slave arrested by soldiers and taken into custody, but none of them had made it out without a severe beating at the very least. Yet here he was, a runaway slave, being treated as a guest in the Pharaoh's house, given healing, food and even an education – such things had been beyond his wildest imaginations a few scant weeks ago. When he sat down to a meal, it was brought by others – servants, not slaves, especially when Seth or Atem were around – and he was encouraged to eat his fill. The Pharaoh would question him intently about himself, his past and whatever else interested him at the time, gently prodding until Ryou finally opened up and talked.

He couldn't help but think there was some other reason for this special treatment. Perhaps they pitied him and wanted to give him work and that was why Seth was teaching him letters and sums? Or perhaps they had something else planned for him, once he had recovered his health, and those special plans had to be kept secret until the appropriate time? Either way, for better or for worse, he was not going to mind whatever it was they wished to do with him in the future – they had, after all, rescued him from death by starvation out in the ruins. It was a life debt he owed, but he was also immensely grateful to them.

The sight of Ryou's pale eyes brightening upon seeing Seth enter the chamber was a welcome change to the tension of the morning. Ryou was sitting at the table in his room, surrounded by scrolls, tablets and reed brushes, obviously in the middle of reviewing this morning's lessons, when Seth walked in and it took a moment before the boy remembered his manners and scrambled to his feet. Amused, the Priest waved him down and took the seat beside his.

"How are your studies progressing, Ryou?"

"Actually, my lord, I was having some trouble deciphering this glyph…"

Ryou wasted no time pushing the scroll across so that they could both see, pointing out the glyph in question, his expression eager. Seth took a moment to appreciate the boy's sheer enthusiasm for learning and found it a refreshing change from the mundane routine of his own duties. He had never taught anyone before, but he only had fond memories of the days when he himself was being taught by his father, though he had not known who Akhenadin was at the time.

"My lord?"

"My apologies." He cleared his throat and turned back to Ryou, who blinked up at him in confusion. "Do continue."

He was slightly unnerved when Ryou only watched him with a thoughtful expression on his face. He certainly had grown bolder over the past couple of weeks, now that he was certain he would not be abused or punished for speaking his mind – to an extent. Seth found that nothing could really escape the boy's notice; it was just a matter of whether or not he would choose to voice his observations. Finally, Ryou set down the scroll he had been talking about and focused on the Priest.

"It may not be my place, Lord Seth, but is something the matter?"

"A small issue. Not worth mentioning, truly."

"With all due respect, my lord: I don't believe you."

Of course you wouldn't, Seth thought, torn between amusement and chagrin. He found he wasn't even surprised at the revelation that he was fine with that – with being an open book to this boy who could barely read. He smirked.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," he said. "Unless you've suddenly become an expert in politics."

Ryou flushed and mumbled something under his breath. Seth only caught the last few words, but it was enough to widen his smirk into a chuckle. The boy was not altogether content with being confined to his room and it was no wonder, considering he had not been allowed outside even once since his arrival. There was only so much one could learn from sifting through old scrolls, after all. Seth got to his feet suddenly, making Ryou jump up in surprise.

"My lord…?"

"Come," he ordered. When Ryou didn't move, he held out a hand imperatively. "You want to go outside, do you not?"

He felt a peculiar warming in his chest as Ryou tentatively placed his hand in Seth's larger one. He had a sudden realisation that this was the first time the boy had purposefully initiated contact with him as he pulled him to his feet. Ryou smiled up at him and he felt his smirk soften.

"Come on then."


Mahad stood in the shade of the large tree in the centre of the courtyard as he watched Mana practicing a translocation spell on a large, conveniently placed rock. So far, she had managed to shift it several inches to the left, but he was certain that was because she had physically pushed it, and once even vanished it completely. She had not been able to vanish the rock and materialise it in a different place, despite their spending the better part of the morning running through the theory behind the feat. He sighed when she slumped against the rock.

"Mana, you must concentrate."

"But Master! I don't understand why I'm still getting this wrong," she whined. Her spellbook appeared in her left hand and she began flicking through it at lightning speed. "I memorised the incantation and the motions perfectly, but I just can't make it reappear once it's gone!"

He sighed and shook his head in exasperation before walking over to her and placing both hands on the rock, palms flat.

"You need to visualise," he told her, closing his eyes. "Simply memorising the incantation and the gestures is not enough – you must see everything in your mind's eye, down to the last shift."

She gaped as he murmured the spell under his breath, flicked his wrist and the rock disappeared, only to reappear again beneath the tree. In another breath, he had moved the rock back into its original position and was looking down at where she was sitting on the ground, hands lying limply in her lap.

"Give it another go, Mana."

She nodded and scrambled to her feet, brow furrowed in concentration. He watched her for a moment before a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. In the shadow of the archway was Atem, walking towards them. Mahad first made sure Mana was on task and made his way across the courtyard to meet with him, knowing what the Pharaoh wanted to say and ensuring she was out of earshot. He stopped and bowed as Atem approached.

"Pharaoh."

"Mahad," Atem acknowledged, nodding once. His eyes flicked over to Mana. "I see the lessons are progressing."

Mahad winced.

"Progress is relative," he admitted. "In Mana's case, it's considerable indeed if she manages to undo what mistakes she's already done."

They both flinched as a loud bang sounded, closely followed by Mana's startled yelp and a very ungraceful curse.

"Mana!" Mahad shouted, aghast, whipping around at the curse. "Language!"

When he turned around, he was met with the sight of Mana sitting in the middle of a cloud of dust and rubble, arms flung over her head to protect it from the falling debris. A fine grey layer coated her chestnut hair and the off-whites of her linens, giving her the appearance of having aged several decades. She coughed, sending up little bursts of dust as she did. Mahad pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he knew was coming, torn between amusement and exasperation at his student's mishap. Beside him, Atem chuckled.

"Well, at least we know to rely on Mana when we need something obliterated," he teased. "That was quite a spectacle."

"Your Highness!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. "Did you see all of that?"

"Every last moment," he replied, grinning.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. Mahad took pity on her and sent her back indoors to complete the remainder of her theoretical work. She bowed cheerfully and left, waving back at the two men as she ran back to the palace. They watched her retreating back with fond amusement.

"I'm glad some things never change," Atem said, a wistful note entering his voice. Mahad cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Pharaoh, this morning when you said you would reinstate the Duels…"

"I meant every word, Mahad," Atem interrupted. He met the Priest's eyes squarely. "I understand what you've been through, Mahad, in the past. Believe me, I wish I could spare you from this. But we are the only ones who can do something to protect the people."

We're the only ones who can control them. Mahad could tell from the shadows that lurked in Atem's determined eyes that the idea of the commoners learning to use their Ka creatures terrified him. There was simply too much raw power lying dormant in the souls of their people that if they had all learned to use it, there would be no way to maintain stability in the kingdom. Mahad knew that, although he loathed to do so, Atem had to maintain his authority over his people for their own sakes as much as that of the ruling class. It was a lesson they had learned the hard way.

"I understand, Pharaoh."

Atem reached up and clasped Mahad's shoulder in a comradely fashion.

"Come, Mahad, we are like brothers, are we not?" He frowned. "You know you can always confide your worries to me, not as your Pharaoh, but as a friend."

"Your Highness…" Atem's former title slipped out before Mahad realised it and he coughed. "I mean, Pharaoh. Thank you for your concern, but I do not want to burden you with my worries until I have determined that they are indeed a legitimate source of concern."

"You have to understand, Mahad, that whatever is bothering you to this extent is a source of great concern to us," Atem replied, emphasising his declaration with the royal plural to show his seriousness. "You have not been the same since that day, my friend, and we are afraid for your health and safety. Truly, is there something the matter?"

Mahad was sorely tempted to brush his concerns aside, but he found he could not. The man before him was his oldest friend, his brother, with whom he had gone to death and back time and time again. He trusted Atem implicitly and he knew the sentiment was returned. Whatever haunted him, Mahad knew that Atem, at least, would be able to understand.

"Very well then," he sighed. "This is all still mere speculation, but I…I believe I may know why the Ring has been detecting Bakura's presence."


Akhenadin rested his chin on his folded hands, propped on the table top, the Eye glinting in the red glow of dusk. He listened intently as Mahad outlined his theory on the reappearance of Bakura's aura, showing no expression on his weathered face even as his son was growing increasingly frustrated beside him. Seth was brilliant, but he was young and still bruised and bleeding from the scars left behind on his heart and soul. The elderly Priest was still the foremost expert on the power of the Items, regardless of whether or not he had renounced that power – and that was something requiring iron-clad will and cold reservation, traits that both his son and nephew needed to more time to master.

When Mahad trailed off, having exhausted his theory, they all looked to Akhenadin expectantly. Unfazed, he took a moment to organise his thoughts.

"It is an interesting theory and not without its merits," he said finally. "The Ring had indeed exhibited such abilities in the past. But the likelihood of the Thief being able to utilise the Ring to its full potential in such a short amount of time is exceedingly low."

"His prowess with it in the final battle was considerable, however," Atem replied. "He demonstrated a level of ability on par with Mahad's utilisation as the Keeper of the Ring in that brief time. It would raise the likelihood much higher."

"That is also true," Akhenadin conceded. "Perhaps, by being from the cursed village, he had access to the secrets of the power of the Items that proved advantageous even without the years of training."

He picked up a stone carving in the shape of a pyramid and turned it about between his hands, eyes focused. After another long moment, he stopped spinning the carving about and instead held it up in front of Mahad.

"Unlike the Scales, which fuses two Ka creatures together – as it has done several times with many of your own creatures – the Ring seems to have the ability to transplant Ba and Ka into others, including inanimate objects. That is how Mahad was able to transfuse his Ba into the Illusion Magician."

"So you are saying that Bakura may have used this power to seal himself within the Ring to survive his own defeat?" Atem asked in a hushed voice.

"No, not the Ring," Mahad disagreed, resting a hand upon it. "I would have felt his presence if it were so. But there must be something – or someone – to whom he transferred part of himself into."

"And now they are here," Seth finished for him. "But who?"

Silence was the only answer.


A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I actually had chapter four almost completely finished when I decided that it needed more development before I got to the events that I had already written - so I started a new chapter from scratch. The story now makes more sense (to me, you'll never know which is the original chapter four!) and the developments should be smoother. Enjoy and feel free to review!