For the first time since Satiah arrived at the palace, the Pharaoh and his Sacred Guardians were left speechless.

They had gathered in the great hall and listened patiently as Atem recounted the visions shown to him by his Millennium Ring. But now, in the wake of the prince's words, they had nothing to say. Satiah stood beside her husband where he sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his most trusted viziers, who now couldn't even manage to conjure a word of reassurance. Atem had a blanket drawn over his shoulders, which concealed most of the mark branded on him by the Ring, but he was still shivering wildly. It turned Satiah's stomach to see him like this — once a poised and measured man, now reduced to a panicked husk.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Seto stepped forward. "And you're sure that it wasn't just a vivid dream?"

Atem stared across the table, down to where the Millennium Ring was resting on the surface, just out of his reach. He nodded once. "I could feel it," he said, his voice trembling. "The heat of their bodies… The chill of the dark."

More silence.

"But what does it mean?" Karim whispered.

Satiah looked around, watching the faces of the wisest priests in the land drawing blank. Frustrated, she laid her hand on her husband's shoulder and squeezed hard. His eyes flickered up to her momentarily.

"It means we must find it," she announced, her voice cutting sharply across the room. "This chamber — this…this sarcophagus that Amenhotep uncovered. If the chamber is truly where Zorac sleeps, we must secure it, before Bakura — or any other man with ill intent — can set foot within it."

"I thought Zorac was just a legend," Seto shot back. "A figment of the mad king's imagination."

Shimon made a low noise. "That was always just a rumor," he said, his voice heavy, "spread by the descendents of Ramesses, to discourage any aspiring heretics from seeking out the god's powers. And it worked — in time, Zorac's legend was reduced to no more than a bedtime story to scare children into behaving."

"But this proves it's not," Satiah cut in. "There was something hidden in that chamber, and Amenhotep set it free."

"We don't know that for certain," Karim said, though his own voice was laced with doubt. "It could have been anything that caused these visions… The medicines he takes — delirium or stress—"

Satiah scoffed. "Tell me none of you have been shown illusions by your Items before," she demanded, looking around at their shamed faces. "None of you? Not a single one?"

Finally, Iset spoke up. "This demands further exploration," she said quietly. "It is clear the Millennium Items are somehow entwined with the events observed by our prince. We should investigate to find out why."

Satiah appreciated the woman's backing, however weak it was. She continued scanning the faces of the Guardians, most of whom avoided her eyes, until finally, she set her gaze on the Pharaoh. She'd almost failed to notice Aknamkanon, who stood shrouded in darkness behind his viziers. But his blackened eyes shone fierce as he stared down upon his quivering son — the last of his flesh and blood.

Suddenly, he turned to his Guardians. "Karim, send out messages to every nome within a day's ride," he commanded. "Tell them to begin searching their archives for records of Amenhotep's reign. Any findings are to be brought to me personally."

Karim stood stunned a moment, then quickly nodded and set off.

The Pharaoh turned to Seto now. "Seto — gather the Conclave's five finest priests and ride for Set-Ma'at at first light. Meet with the head of the tomb guardians there and set them to work searching Ramesses' burial chambers. Have your priests set up a patrol along the southern ridge and report back to me daily with any news."

Seto nodded enthusiastically before following in the same manner as Karim.

"As for the rest of us — it shall be our duty to uncover the meaning behind these visions. Let us convene tomorrow morning to discuss our strategy. But first…" He moved toward his son, summoning Atem's eyes up at last. "We are all in need of some rest." He looked over his shoulder. "Iset, can you please fetch Mahad and have him meet me at my son's chambers?"

Iset bowed and excused herself; Shimon followed soon after.

When the Pharaoh turned around, Satiah saw that his eyes had softened somewhat. He reached out and took up the Ring sitting on the center of the table, and for a moment, Satiah was worried it might burn him as well. But his hand closed firmly around it, and he turned back to face the prince.

"Come, my son," he said quietly, holding out his free hand. Atem stared into his palm for a moment before reaching out to grasp it and rising shakily to his feet. The Pharaoh put his arm around his son and led him toward the door. From afar, Satiah thought the prince looked like a child, swathed in blankets and embraced by his father. Watching them felt like peering into a private memory, so much so that she almost daren't follow. But before she lost them in the darkness, the king looked back over his shoulder and nodded, summoning her to fall into step behind them.

She followed like a shadow as they made their way back to the prince's bedchamber, where Mahad was already waiting outside the door, looking serious as ever. Aknamkanon stopped, released his son and turned to Satiah.

"I'll be right in," he whispered, and Satiah quickly took her cue. She swept in and wrapped an arm around Atem, then opened the door to lead him inside. He followed listlessly, and as they passed the windows, Satiah caught sight of an empty glaze flashing on his eyes. When they reached the bed, she turned him around and lowered him down onto it, then removed the blanket from his shoulders. She nearly winced at the sight of the reddened mark still burned into his chest, though it already looked to be fading somewhat. She could only hope it would be gone by morning, along with whatever affliction that now plagued him.

A moment later, the Pharaoh and Mahad entered the chamber. Before they even passed the first window, Satiah could see the flash of the Ring around Mahad's neck, and her heart tumbled with anticipation. As they came up beside the bed, Satiah stood back. The Pharaoh shifted guiltily for a moment, then knelt before his son and laid both hands on his shoulders. The prince blinked, but his eyes failed to find his father's.

"Atem," he said, his voice stilted and fatherly. "I have discussed the matter with Mahad, and we have agreed that it is best for him to take over Guardianship of the Ring until further notice."

At this, Atem's gaze cleared, and he looked hard at his father.

"This will only be temporary," Aknamkanon continued, "until we can figure out the source of these visions and—"

"Why?" Atem's voice was much louder than Satiah expected. "Do you think I'm not…worthy?"

"Not at all, my son — not even in the slightest."

Mahad shifted forward. "We just want to ensure your safety," he said.

Atem looked up to his friend, his eyes shining. "Am I not safe?" he said. "Am I not surrounded by protectors, coddled and babied at my every step?" There was venom in his words now, unlike Satiah had ever heard from him. "Should I be expected to sit back and watch as my only duty and purpose are stripped away?"

Suddenly, Aknamkanon stood. "I have already lost one son for the sake of this Ring," he said sharply. "I will not allow it to take another. My decision is final."

Atem glared up at his father, and Satiah only now noticed his hands were gripping tightly to the sheets of his bed, his knuckles flashing white. Sparks flew between father and son until, at last, Atem lowered his eyes. Immediately, the Pharaoh spun and made for the door with haste; Mahad gave a remorseful bow before trailing after.

As the door slammed closed, Satiah found herself releasing a sharp sigh of relief. She sank down beside her husband on the bed, but when she reached out to touch his shoulder, he shrugged it away and stood abruptly. Startled, Satiah gazed after him, watching as he crossed his arms and moved to stand before the window.

"You must be pleased about this," he muttered.

Satiah knew she should feel guilty, but she found herself spurned instead. Huffing, she rose and followed him to where he stood. "I suppose I am," she retorted, causing him to glance over his shoulder for a moment. "If you expect me to apologize for caring about your well-being, I'm afraid to say you'll be sorely disappointed."

"You know, I never asked for any of this." He spun, looking just as fraught as he sounded. "I was prepared for the life I had before. I was ready — I knew what I was called to do. But then… You and your scheming father came along and I — I just…" He thrust his hand out toward her. "I never wanted this!"

"And you think I did?" Satiah felt her skin ripple with chills. "You think I wanted my soul to be ripped from my body? To have my choices whittled to nothing?" She struck her hand against her chest. "I will not accept blame for the sins committed by our fathers. And neither should you." She reached out to grasp his hand, but he quickly pulled it away. At this, Satiah exhaled sharply and straightened up. "Go on then. Turn me away, if that will make you feel more like the man you wish you were."

His whole body twisted with shame — his hands curling into fists, his shoulders rolling forward like two anchors ready to fall. And fall, he did — he sank down onto the edge of the bench behind him, resting his elbows on his knees and catching his head in his hands. He shook — not with tears, she knew, but with rage.

Satiah's cold heart softened, and as if pulled by a string of fate, she swept forward, coming to kneel behind him on the bench. She slipped her arms around his middle and fit her chest against his back, resting her chin on his trembling shoulder. She hushed him as one might hush a child, reaching up to smooth his hair away from his ear.

"This?" she whispered, running her fingers softly along the faded brand on his chest. "This is not your calling. This is a burden you were never meant to bear." He sucked in a deep breath, and Satiah breathed with him, lending him a strength she didn't even know she had. "I know not what you are called to do — nor do I know what my own future holds. But whether by fate or by choice, we have been bound to one another. So whatever we may face — now, we will face it together."

Another week passed with hardly any new developments in their search. When not dissecting old scrolls or meditating with Iset, Atem spent most of his time lounging in his chambers or jealously spectating duels at the training complex. At one point, he'd even joined in a doubles exhibition match at Mahad's request, but his friend's ka had ended up crushing their opponents before Atem could even cast a spell. As Mahad was still considered only an interim Guardian of the Millennium Ring, he hadn't undergone an initiation ceremony of his own. But he still wore the Item with pride when he dueled — and though Atem tried not to let it affect him, he couldn't help but feel a bit spiteful whenever he saw the glint of gold around his friend's neck.

Atem's brooding sometimes carried over into conversations with his wife, but Satiah weathered it gracefully. Whenever they spoke, she was patient and deliberate, and she took care to avoid the topic of the Ring entirely. If things ever got quiet enough for him to sink into solitary thoughts, she would distract him by challenging him to a game of senet, or encouraging him to work on the puzzle she'd given him.

To her credit, fiddling with the pieces often helped take his mind off the situation at hand. After whiling away almost an entire morning working on it, he found himself thrilled to discover that the puzzle was turning out to be a three-dimensional object, and not a two-dimensional image as he'd first thought. So far, he'd managed to piece together three separate hexagonal blocks, each nearly identical in size and shape. Each block had a small circular protrusion coming from its center, and Atem wondered if perhaps they were meant to stack on top of one another, but he hadn't managed to get the completed pieces to fit together just yet.

He was just about to move on to constructing a fourth block whe Satiah made her way into their chamber. He smiled upon setting his eyes on her and raised a hand to gesture her closer. She made her way to his side, looking curiously down at the surface of the table on which he was working.

"Look how far you've gotten!" she said softly, reaching out to run her hand along the edge of one of the blocks. "Never would I have guessed this to be such an intricate project."

"Once I figured out that I could connect the pieces along more than one side, things started to make sense," Atem said, fitting yet another piece into place.

"But how does it all fit together?" she asked, picking up one of the completed hexagonal blocks.

"I'm not sure yet," Atem admitted, chuckling. "One thing at a time."

Satiah looked over at him and smiled. "Indeed." She placed the block back and cleared her throat. "Could I tempt you to take a break for the afternoon? I have a surprise planned."

Atem creased his brow. "Should I be worried?"

Satiah laughed. "No tricks this time — I promise."

Atem sat back and stroked his chin, trying to make her think he was considering declining. But she didn't buy it for a second. "Alright then," he conceded. "Should I change?"

A huge grin broke on her face, and she shook her head. "You're perfect the way you are." Reaching down, she grabbed him by the hand and hoisted him out of his chair.

Atem couldn't help but laugh as he was dragged out of the room and through the sun-washed halls. As they reached the first junction, Satiah ordered him to close his eyes and spun him around so he didn't know which way he was facing. She then grabbed his hand again and led him onward, giggling all the while. They stumbled together down a flight of stairs, and as they leveled off, Atem felt the sun cutting across his face. Finally, after a moment of walking, Satiah stopped and pushed him in front of her.

"Okay," she said, "open your eyes."

He did, and a bemused grin broke on his face at the sight he was met with. Two horses stood waiting for them at the northern gate of the palace, their reins held by Mahad.

"It's such a beautiful day," Satiah said quietly. "I thought we could go for a ride along the river."

Atem turned to Satiah, his smile still bright. "What a lovely idea," he said. "But… Has my father consented to this?"

Suddenly, Mahad approached, towing the horses with him. "You needn't worry about that, my prince," Mahad said. "I've already sent a battalion of the kingsguard to clear and mark a safe path, and I will ride behind to watch over you."

Atem made a low noise, his eyes falling to the Ring around Mahad's neck. He looked away when Satiah's hand fell to his arm. She peered up at him with an expectant smile on her face.

"Alright," he finally agreed. "How can I say no?"

Satiah's smile grew, and she quickly skittered over to one of the horses, a roan mare, leaving Atem the dapple white stallion. They both mounted, and Atem took up the reins as he settled back into his saddle. Sliding his fingers up to a tighter grip, he turned his stallion in a circle to head toward the northern gate. Mahad and Satiah followed behind, and just outside the walls, Mahad untied and mounted his own steed.

As Atem led the way down the rocky path toward the river, it struck him suddenly that this was the first time he'd ridden since the journey to and from the mortuary complex. He could already feel the muscles and reflexes reawakening after nearly a month of dormancy. Once the path leveled off to packed sand, he kicked his horse into a trot, glancing over his shoulder to see Satiah following close behind. Though he'd never seen her on horseback before, she looked to be a natural rider, no doubt having received personal lessons while serving in her father's court. She quickly caught up to Atem and winked before urging her mare into a canter. He clicked his tongue to make his stallion keep pace until they finally crested over the upper bank of the river, where Satiah pulled up to a stop and circled around to face him, grinning.

"You ride well," he said, almost breathless.

"My brother and I used to stage races all along the Giza plateau," she said. "I usually won."

Atem smirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mahad trotting to a stop behind them. "The path should follow the bank north," he announced. "Look for white paint."

Atem nodded, then, hoping to catch Satiah off-guard, he tightened his grip and kicked hard into his horse's sides. The stallion neighed and lurched forward, falling directly into a gallop. He guided the steed along the crest of the bank, hearing Satiah laughing as she tried to keep pace. Ahead, he scanned the rocks and trees for splashes of white paint, almost missing a marker in his haste. He jerked his reins, ducking around a bend leading to a steep, craggy path along the river. At the top, Atem pulled up short, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the landscape before him.

Below, the Nile cut sharply eastward, stretching out nearly to the horizon before easing north again around the Theban Necropolis. At this hour, the sun washed down into the Valley of the Kings, clearly illuminating the dusty roads that led all the way up from the river's shore to the very top of the ridgeline. In the clear light, Atem could almost make out the two stone statues that guarded the entrance to the Valley itself, just beyond which Seto and his priests were patrolling vigilantly.

Satiah finally trotted up beside him, and her cheerful grin fell into humble reverence. "I almost forgot what it looked like," she said, "outside the palace. It's so vast… To think, I've only seen but a fraction of this kingdom."

Atem let his eyes float back to the Valley. "I hate that we've been driven into hiding by no more than a shadow," he said, gripping tightly to his reins. "As much as I wish to serve the thief his retribution, what I find myself longing for the most is simply the freedom to move about my lands in peace again."

"I promise we'll soon put an end to these vexing mysteries," Satiah said. "When we do… We should go somewhere. Let's travel to the other nomes, and speak with our people. I want to see the White Desert at night, and bathe in the Faiyum Oasis."

Atem couldn't help but feel a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. He nodded, almost more to himself than to her, and committed her wishes to his memory. A moment later, hoofbeats faded into his ears, and Atem turned to see Mahad cresting the hill behind them. He kept himself at a respectful distance, however — his watchful eyes occupied scanning the area for signs of danger.

Sighing deeply, Satiah leaned forward and patted her mare's neck. "Come, we should take a break at the next bank and let the horses drink. You'll run your stallion ragged if you keep up that pace."

Atem laughed wryly, then followed as she guided her horse along the path again. They took the downslope much slower, allowing them to ride side by side along the narrow lane. When he wasn't watching the path for stray roots or stones, Atem let his eyes roam over to his wife, admiring her graceful posture and the way the wind brushed her hair back and forth across her bare shoulders. These were moments he would have cherished dearly, had a cloud of uncertainty not been hanging over them.

The path soon leveled into a shady grove along the river, and Atem walked his horse right up the bank. There, he dismounted and led the steed over to a palm tree leaning over the edge of the water. Satiah followed, and they both lashed their mounts around the trunk of the tree, giving them enough slack so that they could reach the water and drink.

Atem moved away from his horse, following the tide line for a short way until he stopped and turned to face the Nile. The sinking sun shimmered along the surface for as far as the eye could see. As he surveyed the crystal clear waters, he caught sight of Satiah wading out into a shallow pool nearby, her skirt pulled up in one hand. She turned over her shoulder and smiled at him, and Atem felt a stirring in his soul at the sight of the glittering water eclipsed around her like a halo. She tucked the end of her skirt into her belt, then leaned down to splash water on her arms and chest, leaving a smooth sheen lingering on her skin.

Unable to resist, Atem kicked himself out of his shoes and followed her, bending down to douse his own limbs in the cool water. While staring at his reflection, he felt a sprinkling of water rain down his back and spine, and instinctively, he straightened up, just in time to see Satiah breaking into laughter as she skidded her hand across the river's surface again. He grinned, managing to dodge her second splash, then returned it with one of his own. She yelped in surprise when the water doused the front of her dress, and she bounded deeper into the pool, out of his reach. Atem chuckled heartily, but found his joy interrupted briefly by the sound of a familiar voice careening through the shady grove.

"ATE-EM! SATIA-AH!"

Snapping his eyes away from his wife, Atem spied none other than Mana jogging into the clearing, her arms and back laden with what looked like heavy linens. He quickly glanced to Satiah again, but she seemed just as surprised by the sight. Together, they waded back toward the bank, and as they did, Mana dropped the bundle of linens in her arms, followed by two baskets that were previously hidden from sight. Atem emerged from the water and drew nearer, and he soon realized the baskets were brimming with food and drink.

"I thought I'd bring you two a little picnic!" Mana panted, placing her hands proudly on her hips.

Satiah grinned and stepped forward to help Mana set out the blanket. "You didn't have to do that, Mana," she said in a motherly tone.

"No trouble at all!" the girl sang. "Well, except for the fact that I had to walk all the way here — I tried to grab a horse, but the stablehands wouldn't let me — I mean, can you believe that? Real jerks, I tell ya—"

Atem looked up to see Mahad rushing into the grove, his horse tethered to a tree nearby. "Mana!" he shouted. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought you might be an attacker!"

Mana scoffed and waved her hand at him. "Quit worrying so much, Master," she said. "Here — have a sweet cake, maybe that'll ease your spirits!" She rummaged through a basket and held out a cake to Mahad, but he ignored it, looking sternly at her. "Don't want it? Fine then — here, Atem you take it." She thrust it in his direction, already leaning down to continue sifting through the baskets. "I also brought some dates and… Oh, Atem, look — batarekh, your favorite!"

But before she could retrieve it, Mahad stalked forward and grabbed her by the scruff of her frock, causing her to straighten up. "Come, Mana," he hissed between his teeth, "let's leave the prince and princess in peace now…"

Mana whined in protest as Mahad dragged her out of the clearing. Once alone again, Atem and Satiah looked at each other before howling in laughter.

They soon settled down to enjoy the refreshments Mana had brought, taking turns pouring wine and exchanging delectables. Atem was already feeling weightless from the ride, and after dining on the delicious cuisine, he found himself all but ready to walk the heavens. With a satisfied sigh, he stretched himself out on the blanket and folded his arms behind his head to angle his gaze up into the azure sky. Satiah finished nibbling as well, then leaned back against a tree trunk, wrapping her hands around her middle in content.

Atem grew drowsy within minutes, lulled toward sleep by the clouds drifting lazily overhead. He jolted, however, when he felt Satiah moving closer to him, her hands slipping beneath his head to lift it into her lap. He blinked his heavy eyes up at her, but soon found the sleepiness returning as she began to run her fingers lovingly through his hair. She smiled down at him and smoothed his locks away from his forehead. With a deep, intoxicated breath, he let his eyes flutter closed, feeling her run her nails lightly across his scalp in a hypnotizing pattern. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he could have sworn he heard her begin to hum a gentle melody, and his subconscious mind was soon filled with the blissful music of dreams.

He awoke sometime later, surprised to see the sun already creeping down toward the ridgeline to the west. Satiah's hands had grown slack and fallen away from his hair, and he looked up to see she had drifted off as well. Smiling, he lifted his head carefully out of her lap and rose to a sitting position, turning around to watch her twitching lightly while she slept. Wanting to let her rest a bit longer, Atem stood and walked toward the bank of the Nile, slipping his toes back into the shallow pool. He filled his lungs with a deep, grateful breath, then leaned down to cup water in his hands and splash it on his face. Shivering and alert, he straightened up to take in one last view of the river's expanse before turning back toward the shore.

As he did, he froze.

A shadowed figure was crouched over his wife, its body concealed in robes of black. A moment later, the figure moved away, and even from this distance, Atem could see the swell of red creeping down the front of Satiah's dress. The hilt of a dagger protruded from the center of the stain, just below her chest.

While he stood rigid with fear, the figure turned, revealing beetle-black eyes, a flash of white hair, and a twisted smile.

With no regard for his own safety, Atem clamored up the bank and rushed to his wife's side, ignoring the murderer standing nearby.

"Satiah," he breathed, falling to his knees before her. He reached out and cradled her lolled head, bringing it into his chest. But her body fell limply against him, her shoulders collapsing beneath her own weight. "No, no, no… Satiah, look at me!" Trembling, he pressed his hand into the pool of blood now gathering in her lap.

"You brought this on yourself."

Chilled to the bone, Atem turned, dragging his gaze up the shadowy figure to see that in place of the black eyes of his nemesis, he was now staring into his own — violet and burning, pent with rage. He watched as this dark reflection of himself reached down to spread the front of the robe it wore. There, blazoned in its chest, was the seared brand of the Millennium Ring.

"Atem!"

Satiah's hand reached out and grasped his upper arm, summoning his gaze back to her. His eyes fell to her chest, but there was no dagger nor bloodstain to be seen. He looked back over his shoulder to see his wrathful ghost had also vanished into thin air.

"Is everything alright?"

Washed in relief, Atem surged forward and caught her in a tight embrace, pressing his face urgently against her warm cheek. She wrapped her own arms around him, clutching to the back of his neck.

"It's okay," she whispered, "I'm here."

After a moment, he pulled away slightly, enough to rest his forehead against her own and look into her eyes. Again, they were clear and shining, untainted by whatever evil was infecting his own heart.

"Prince! Princess!" Atem turned sharply to see Mahad rushing into the clearing, a royal messenger in tow. "We must return to the palace at once," he panted. "There's been a discovery."

AN: PHEW! Sorry for all the rapid fire chapters lately! I've been trying to take advantage of some downtime at work and today's holiday to eek out as much writing as I can. I've got a busy week on the horizon, so I might not be able to update for a while. Regardless, I hope you've been enjoying what you read! If you have, leave a comment and let me know your thoughts on the action thus far!