Atem reached blindly into the ceramic box, grabbing another puzzle piece. He ran his fingers along the cool, shaped metal, getting a feel for its ridges and curves. On the table before him sat dozens more of them, piled in groups based on their defining features — some small, some large, some curved, some angular. He noticed, too, how most of them had jagged edges at one or both ends, and he figured this must be the mechanism by which they fit together.

Each piece was beautifully crafted — and if this were truly a puzzle as Satiah claimed, it was unlike any he had ever seen before. So far, he'd managed only to stage a few of the larger pieces together on the surface of the table, but there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to which way they should be facing or what the final form of the object was supposed to be. Finally, after nearly an hour of fiddling with only a handful of the pieces, Atem pushed them forward on the table, leaning back with a sharp sigh.

The movement brought a sting of pain into his side, only intensifying his frustration. Instinctively, he lifted his hand to touch his bandages, feeling the dull ache of his wound beneath. It was nearing two weeks since the attempt on his life, and the Conclave was no closer to finding his attacker than his wound was to being fully healed. Just the thought of Bakura still out there, stalking the kingdom in search of more innocents to terrorize, sent a shiver of rage down Atem's spine.

He leaned his elbows onto the table in front of him and pressed his fingers into his temples. Above his lap, the Millennium Ring swung idly back and forth — taunting him. Here it was, hanging from his neck like a coveted treasure, and yet it seemed the Item couldn't be further from his grasp. He still hadn't gotten used to its strange and eerie warmth — like it was somehow alive and had a will of its own. It had yet to "speak" to him, as some of the Guardians had told him it might, but Atem found himself fearing what it would say when it did. Would it judge his heart coldly, and find him unworthy of its graces? Would it reject him, remaining vengeful for what he'd let happen to its previous owner?

Atem found himself reaching out to touch the Ring, but he stopped at the sound of his bedchamber door creaking open. Satiah stepped inside and closed the door behind her, setting a motherly smile on him as she approached.

"Hiding from me, are you?" she said.

Atem watched the warm light of sunset embracing her as she drew near. Her smile helped to calm his prickling anxiety somewhat, and he reclined in his chair again — more slowly this time. She came around and stood beside him, leaning back on the table and peering down at the piles of glinting metal on the surface.

"Ah — the fabled puzzle," she said, picking up a piece and weighing it in her hand. "Doesn't look like you've made any progress — perhaps you're not so clever after all."

He smirked, then swiped the piece out of her hand and returned it to the pile she'd stolen it from. "Well I'll never get anywhere on it with you distracting me," he quipped back. "Hence the hiding."

"You know, I'd be a little nicer if I were you," she chirped. "You're going to want all the help you can get on this — and need I remind you I almost beat you at senet once."

"Please," Atem shot back, laughing wryly, "you didn't have a ghost of a chance. I had you right where I wanted you."

Satiah bit her lip to hide a smile. Turning slightly, she reached over and ran her fingers along the cover of the box the puzzle had come in. There, she traced the gentle curve of Ramesses' cartouche.

"What secret do you think this puzzle hides?" she said, her voice a bit whimsical. But a moment later, her playful smile returned. "Perhaps this is some vessel for Ramesses' ka, and by completing it you'll be granted its awesome power!" She chuckled and sat back, crossing her arms. "Alright, so maybe I've been spending a little too much time around Mana. Still, part of me wishes I could go back in time to witness the ka of our forefathers. They say Ramesses' was as fearsome as they come."

Atem tried to partake in her flighty banter, but his anxiety suddenly returned, stealing away his smile. His thoughts soon wandered to his own ka. While the spirit warriors used by Pharaohs of old existed now only in tomb paintings, his own would go down in history — forever at the disposal of future kings. He found himself ashamed to have his ka measured up against the likes of his father and brother — let alone someone like Ramesses.

Satiah quickly picked up on his brooding. "A ka needn't be fearsome for it to be strong."

He huffed at her flattery. "That's easy for you to say." He looked up at his wife, surprised to see the cheer had gone from her features, her gaze averted. His heart sank a bit, fearing he had insulted her. But a moment later, she returned her eyes to him, looking almost curious.

"She came to you, didn't she?" Satiah said, her voice low. "In the temple."

Atem felt his breath catch in his throat, remembering with stark and sudden clarity the moment his wife's ka had come to his aid. The Shieldmaiden had washed over him like a warm wave, protecting and serving him as if she were his own spirit.

Atem lowered his head. "Nothing like that has ever happened to me before," he said. "I didn't call for her. I don't know what I said or did that would have summoned her to my side."

He looked back up when Satiah's hand suddenly fell over his where it lay on the table. "She deemed you worthy," Satiah said. "You stood against evil and defended those who could not defend themselves. There is no greater evidence of your honor as a duelist — and certainly nothing any piece of jewelry could ever reveal."

Atem dropped his eyes to the Ring around his neck, feeling his heart beating wildly beneath the shining gold. Satiah's words touched him, but they could not pierce the veil of doubt that had encircled him ever since the happenings at the mortuary temple.

"It pains me to see you suffering for the sake of this…trinket," Satiah went on, her voice still a low whisper. "What are you hoping to prove with all this?"

Atem gripped her hand. "I told you once before," he said firmly. "I have been preparing for this duty since I was a child. It is my destiny."

Satiah scoffed and pulled her hand away. "Destiny—" she mocked, "how ridiculous. You must realize by now that you do have a choice in all this, Atem. You can choose to lean on this Item like you do your crutch, or you can do as you did that day and face your enemy—"

"Don't you think I want to?" he snapped. "Don't you think it is the only thing in this world I want?" Satiah tensed at this, but she kept her eyes locked on him. "The truth is — I'm afraid. Afraid to fail. Again. It still haunts me, waking and dreaming — the blood spilled, the lives stolen. It is everything I can do not to see it all happening again whenever I look into your eyes."

Suddenly, Satiah took his face in her hands and knelt before him. "Then look into them now," she whispered, "and see that they are clear."

They were. Her amber irises gleamed like still water in the gilded light.

"I refuse to be a reflection of your fears," she went on. "I will not be your weakness — your crutch. I may have no ka, but I am not done fighting. Why should you be?"

She released him and stood abruptly, turning to leave. The sun flickered off her back like lashing flames as she passed by both windows and left the room, pulling the door closed loudly behind her. Atem felt his hand curling into a fist, which he brought down hard on the table with a sharp slam, shaking the puzzle pieces loose into a shimmering landslide.

Satiah hated lurking — almost as much as she hated waiting. She now found herself doing both, standing hidden in the alcove of a window outside the throne room and preparing to ambush the Pharaoh as he finished his governing duties for the day. After her clash with Atem earlier, she'd spent almost an hour pacing the palace, trying to figure out how best to approach the king regarding the ongoing manhunt for Bakura. It was hard enough to speak two words to the Pharaoh over dinner, nevermind corning him alone, away from his prying Guardians.

Finally, just before the sun was snuffed out for the day, Aknamkanon emerged from the throne room, tailed by his usual posse of viziers and priests. Satiah quickly ducked out of the alcove, ambling toward the group as inconspicuously as she could.

She smiled wide at the Pharaoh and gave him a gracious nod. "Good evening, your highness."

"Satiah," he said, stopping to return her greeting, "how lovely to see you. What brings you to this part of the palace?"

"I was just on my way back from the library," she lied. "Mana asked my help locating a particularly obscure spell she needed for her studies."

Aknamkanon smiled. "How kind of you. I suppose you'll be making your way to the terrace for dinner soon?"

"Indeed," Satiah confirmed. "Would you care to join me on a walk in the gardens beforehand?"

The Pharaoh looked to his advisors, and for a moment Satiah was worried he might decline. But he waved them onward, then turned and extended his arm to her. Satiah took it, allowing herself to be led down the hallway toward the gardens.

"Should we fetch Atem to join us?" the Pharaoh asked as they rounded the corner into the darkening courtyard.

Satiah flashed a grimacing smile. "Oh, no," she said quickly, "he seemed a bit fatigued earlier, so I told him to get some rest. He'll be down in time for dinner."

Aknamkanon hummed his understanding, leading the way at a meandering pace down one of the garden's main paths. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your patience in caring for my son," he said. "It lightens my heavy heart knowing he is well looked after. Even from afar, I can tell how much good you are doing for him."

Satiah felt a blush come unexpectedly to her cheeks. "I'm honored to fulfill my wifely duties," she said.

Aknamkanon released a short laugh. "You don't have to placate me with platitudes, my dear," he said. "I know this hasn't been easy on you. It was one thing for you to marry my son, but another thing entirely for you to become his caretaker."

Satiah found a smile tugging at her lips. It was nice to hear the Pharaoh being frank for once. "If I'm honest, my king, he is the patient one," she said. "He makes it easy. You have raised a kind and gentle young man."

"Thank you for saying that."

A quiet moment followed, and Satiah felt a ripple of nervousness in her stomach. With a deep breath, she prepared herself to broach the next subject. "Speaking of your son…" she started, keeping her eyes turned up to the path in front of her. "I had a small suggestion I'd like for you to consider — if it please you, my king."

Aknamkanon slowed his steps and looked over at her. "Oh?"

"I understand that finding Bakura must be our first priority if Atem is to ever be truly safe," she said, choosing her words carefully. "But I wonder if perhaps we might also look toward thwarting the thief's larger goal."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, as I understand it, Bakura is only after the Millennium Ring because he believes it can lead him to a greater treasure — something he thinks is hidden within Ramesses' tomb."

The Pharaoh stopped and turned to face her fully. "And what might that be?"

His eyes glinted, even in the thin light of dusk. Satiah swallowed hard. "Well, I'm not sure exactly," Satiah admitted. "That's where I'm hoping you can help. I'd like your permission to send messages out to the other nomes, asking their archivists to search for records relating to the Great King. If the legends are to be believed, and Ramesses did indeed have a flair for the occult, it's possible there is something hidden in his tomb — and we would be wise to find it before Bakura does."

Aknamkanon scoffed, then turned and started down the path again. "I highly doubt it, my dear," he said dismissively. "The Valley of the Kings has been mapped and charted by the country's most respected cartographers. If there was something so grand as you described within Ramesses' tomb, we'd know about it by now."

"But what if it's not something that can be seen with the naked eye?" Satiah proposed. The Pharaoh must not have been expecting her to continue, as he stopped and turned to her again. "The Millennium Ring is said to guide the wearer to whatever it desires, does it not? What if this treasure, or chamber — or whatever it is Bakura is after… What if it can only be revealed with the assistance of the Ring?"

Doubt flickered across the Pharaoh's face, but in a moment, his stern resistance returned. "I'm sorry, Satiah — but I cannot in good faith go chasing after myths and legends when the man responsible for the death of my kin is still very much alive."

He set off walking again, but Satiah suddenly found herself reaching out and grabbing his arm. He wheeled on her, looking impatient now. "I understand that you care about the safety of your son," she said firmly. "You must believe that I do as well. But I see what he is doing to himself — measuring his own worth against that Ring as if his very life were tied to it. Whether by Bakura's knife or his own fear, your son is suffering — you must see that."

Aknamkanon's chest swelled with a dignified breath. He looked as if he were about to speak, but Satiah cut in again before he could.

"If you wish to continue chasing this ghost of a man, then fine — that is your right as king. But let me follow this trail on my own. As we speak, my father is searching the Karnak archives for—"

At the mention of her father, the Pharaoh raised his hand, causing Satiah to stop in her tracks. "I have washed my hands of your father's meddling," he said, his voice cutting sharply. "I care not what the man does with his own time. If you truly believe this will help protect my son, then I will not stop you. But I refuse to divert the crown's resources to such frivolous pursuits — not when real danger is nigh." He paused, lifting his head. "Do I make myself clear?"

Satiah felt a knot forming in her throat, choking back all the words left unsaid. Gritting her teeth, she nodded once.

"Good."

After a few days of quiet brooding, Atem was surprised to wake up in his third week of recovery to find Satiah more cheerful than ever. She'd somehow managed to rise and dress herself without him waking up, and she now threw back the curtains to cast bright sunlight directly onto his face. Blinking starbursts from his eyes, Atem sat up just in time to see her rushing over and sitting beside him on the bed wearing a huge smile.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," she sang. "You have a big day ahead of you."

Atem stifled a yawn and pressed his fingers into his eyes. "Is that so?"

"By my count, you've officially been on the mend for two whole weeks now," Satiah said. "And you know what that means — today is the first day you'll be walking around without your crutch."

Atem, still rubbing his eyes, made a low sound of acknowledgement. He'd already been forgoing the use of his crutch on and off for the past few days, usually only taking it with him if he knew he'd be faced with stairs or uneven terrain. Given this fact, Atem couldn't fathom what Satiah was so excited about.

"I'm so proud of you for making it this far," she went on. "Why don't we do a little something to celebrate?"

Atem finally drew his hands away and set his tired eyes on his wife. It was hard not to be charmed by her infectious smile. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought it would be nice to take a walk down to Karnak," she suggested. "It's a beautiful day, so we can just take it slow — and we can have the kingsguard follow with a palanquin in case you get tired along the way."

Atem smiled and took a deep breath. He still found himself a bit bemused by her sudden change in mood, but he wasn't exactly in a position to complain about it. "Sure," he said, "why not?"

She grinned wider, then pushed herself off the bed. "Why don't you get ready and I'll go arrange us an escort?"

Atem nodded, and she quickly took her leave. Once alone, Atem forced himself up out of bed, moving to the vanity where he kept the various salves and medicinal tools Shimon had provided. There, he slowly unraveled the bandages from around his waist, revealing the nearly-healed wound in his side. In his reflection, he inspected the tight thread of new skin that now stretched itself over the place where Bakura had driven his knife. It was still pink and tender, but the pain had almost completely subsided. At this rate, he was hopeful the scar would fade to nothingness within the year.

As instructed by his team of healers, Atem applied a numbing ointment to the site and rebandaged himself, then quickly changed into a clean tunic and shendyt. For the first time in two weeks, he also decided to take up some of his more formal adornments, including his falcon-winged circlet, which had started to collect dust from sitting untouched on its wooden mannequin. After settling the crown down on his head, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, finally starting to feel a bit like himself again.

Throwing his cloak over his shoulder, Atem made for the door, opening it to see Satiah already waiting for him outside. She smiled again upon setting eyes on him. "Ready?"

Atem nodded, then followed as she led the way down the hall toward the palace's main entrance. As they walked, Atem made a point not to favor his good side too much, trying his best to match Satiah's smooth, even gait. Upon reaching the stairs, Satiah held out her hand, but he waved it off, managing to make it down himself without much of a fuss.

As they passed through the palace gate into the sun, Atem took a deep, full breath. For some reason, the air beyond the palace walls always seemed fresher and crisper, carried through the city by a subtle, prevailing breeze. Another smile came unbidden to his lips as he followed his wife down the promenade toward Karnak, watching the sun play through her dark hair and off her tanned skin.

Their walk was tended closely, both in front and behind, by the kingsguard. The presence, nearing ten soldiers by his count, was much larger than any he would normally warrant on a trip to the temple. Though the soldiers behind carried a palanquin with them, Atem had nearly forgotten about it by the time they made it inside Karnak's shadow. With any luck, he wouldn't need it on their way back either.

Once inside the prayer hall, Satiah was quick to link her arm with his as they sauntered down the main aisle. Bittersweetly, Atem was reminded of how they'd walked this very same path on their wedding day. Soon enough, they found themselves passing by the statue of Isis. Satiah paused before the goddess-queen and leaned her head on Atem's shoulder.

"Seems a lifetime ago, doesn't it?" she whispered.

"Mm." Atem laid his hand over where hers rested in the crook of his arm. This summoned her gaze to his, and Atem felt his heart melting at the sight of her warm eyes looking up at him. Smiling, Satiah turned and began walking down a side aisle, the kingsguard following steps behind. She whipped her head over her shoulder at this.

"That's close enough," she said firmly. "My husband and I would like some privacy to commune with the gods."

The soldiers looked at each other, then stepped back into the main aisle. Atem furrowed his brow as a playful grin broke on Satiah's face. She suddenly dropped her hand to clasp onto his and jerked him deeper into the shadows, ducking behind a statue to pull them out of sight of the guardsmen.

Atem felt a mixture of excitement and unease tumbling in his stomach. "What are you doing?" he whispered, but Satiah ignored him and led him onward. Once they reached the perimeter, she stopped and put a finger to her lips, then released his hand and continued on, hugging the wall until it opened to a dark doorway a bit further ahead.

"Satiah, what on earth—"

He stopped when a familiar face took shape in the darkness — Metjen poked his head out of the doorway, looking both ways before motioning for Atem and Satiah to come inside.

Satiah quickly disappeared in the dark door, leaving Atem no choice but to follow. He squinted into the shadows, barely able to see Metjen's and Satiah's shapes among the thick darkness. Eventually, they turned into another room, this one lit much better, with torches all along the walls and a chandelier of candlesticks hanging from the ceiling. The flickering light illuminated dozens of bookcases and scroll repositories running lengthwise from just inside the door, all the way to the back wall. Metjen quickly led the way between two bookcases, which eventually opened to a small circular table at the center of the room.

There, Atem pulled up short and laid a hand on Satiah's shoulder. "Care to explain what's going on?" he asked tersely.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I knew you'd never agree to this if I'd asked you."

"Agree to what, exactly?"

Metjen cleared his throat. "Satiah told me of her theories regarding Bakura's motives," he said. "I took the liberty of combing the archives for information on Ramesses — specifically with regard to the occult."

Atem screwed up his face with confusion. "Why?"

"It's been nearly two weeks without even so much as a trace of Bakura," Satiah said. "I figured it was time we stop chasing our tails and start figuring out how to beat the bastard at his own game."

"Does my father know about this?"

"In a manner of speaking," Satiah lilted. Atem must have done a poor job at concealing his discontent, as she suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the table. "Come — look. We think we've made a breakthrough."

Stumbling forward, Atem looked down to see a large, worn papyrus stretched across the surface of the table. The hieroglyphs were badly faded, and the papyrus was missing a huge chunk in the top right corner. In the center, however, clear as day, was a depiction of the great Pharaoh Ramesses — then only a general — and his impressive army, riding out to meet their enemy, Amenhotep, on the battlefield.

"The scroll tells of the ascension of Amenhotep, and his defeat at the hands of Ramesses," Metjen said quietly. "There are not many records left that speak to Amenhotep's heretical reign. I was lucky to find this one — and in such good condition." Metjen lowered his finger to the top line of glyphs. "It reads: 'After the untimely death of his father, Amenhotep III rose to the throne of Egypt. He had in his possession the great Tome of Coming Forth By Day, which had been passed down from one Pharaoh to the next since the days of Khufu. It was the divine duty of each Pharaoh to fill the Tome with the stories and spells of the gods, but Amenhotep, wishing to reshape the land of Egypt in his own image, conferred instead with Zorac, the banished god of darkness. Zorac promised Amenhotep untold power in exchange for recording one of his forbidden spells in the Tome. Amenhotep obeyed, but before he could perform the ritual and release darkness upon the land, the heretic was overthrown by the great warrior Ramesses. Taking up the mantle of Pharaoh, Ramesses purged all record of Amenhotep's heresy from the land. However, he was unable to destroy the tainted Tome by any earthly means, and so Ramesses was forced to seal it beneath his own tomb, where it would remain, forever guarded by the Gods of Light.'"

A fist of unease closed around Atem's around his middle as Metjen spoke. In the silence that followed, Atem stared at the scroll, feeling both his wife's and her father's eyes boring into the top of his skull.

"Don't you see?" Satiah hissed, pointing to a line in the text. "This book — this 'Tome of Coming Forth By Day' — it must be what Bakura is after."

Atem looked up at her, but his dry throat failed to form words.

"An entire volume of the gods' spells," Satiah continued, her words tumbling over themselves in urgency. "Imagine what kind of damage this would do if it fell into the wrong hands."

Atem swallowed hard as sense finally returned to him. "There's only one problem with your theory," he said slowly. "I'm almost certain…that the Tome this scroll speaks of has already been in the crown's possession for nearly twenty years."