Atem stood against the railing of the royal ship, watching in horror as they drew ever closer to destruction. Fire lashed itself around Memphis' proud monuments, and even from across the still water, he could hear the cries of his subjects as they fled their burning homes. But with so much distance still between the ship and the shore, he could not see the perpetrators of this heinous crime.
Ahead, Mahad was perched upon the stempost platform, his eyes closed and head held tight between his hands. A moment later, a flash of violet appeared against the reddening sky as the Magician of Illusion came to hover before its master.
At this, Mahad opened his eyes, turning them quickly to his Pharaoh. Before the Guardian even opened his mouth, Atem knew the name he was about to speak:
"Bakura."
Instantly, Atem's heart was run through with knives of fury.
"He looks to be leading a troop of bandits," Mahad went on. "They are occupying the villa and temple. The Conclave is scattered, and Aknadin has been taken prisoner."
Fists clenched and quivering, Atem opened his mouth to deliver plans for countermeasures, but he stopped at the feel of a hand falling to his shoulder. Satiah stepped up beside him, her wide eyes shining almost as red as the horizon.
"Were you able to locate my father?" she asked. "Or Jahar?"
Though Atem knew every moment was precious, he let this one slip by while Mahad found his words.
"No sign of them, my queen," he said at last. "I am sorry."
Atem looked to his wife, watching a multitude of emotions flicker across her face — fear, skepticism, despair, and for a moment, hope — before she finally met his eyes and nodded once.
Atem turned to Mahad. "Tell the captain to let us off at the foot of the temple," he said. "Seto and I will face Bakura and his men. Mahad, you are to go with the queen and help evacuate the city."
Mahad looked surprised for a moment, but he knew better than to speak against the orders of his king. With a deep bow, he dispersed his ka and set off to begin preparations.
His focus narrowed by urgency, Atem failed to notice another subtle shift in his wife's expression as he turned to leave her. She caught his shoulder again, causing him to round on her, much more sharply than he'd meant to. She fell back a step, her face painted with the sharp lines of doubt now.
"I suppose there's no use protesting your commandment?" she hissed.
Atem felt his rigid heart softening. He stepped in close and cupped her face in both his hands. For a long time, he said nothing — simply stared into the shimmering pools of her eyes until he feared he might dissolve into them like sand. "Sati… I wish I could be with you always. I wish I never had to leave your side." She closed her eyes, and the shine of her tears became trapped between her dark lashes. "But your people need you. You are their shepherd. Protect them from the wolves."
He drew her in for a brief, trembling kiss, then wrapped his arms around her and held her while the air broke with the sailors' shouts and the world slowed beneath their feet.
Atem forced himself to pull away as the ship eased to a stop at the wharf nearest the temple and villa. Hand in hand, he and Satiah moved to stand at the edge, their eyes scanning the smoke-choked horizon. The structures here were now no more than black scars upon the land, while deeper in the city, homes and monuments were just beginning to catch flame.
As soon as the disembarking platform was secured, Atem and Satiah led the way down it, followed by the Guardians and the small battalion of kingsguard who had traveled with them. All kept a close watch for danger as they swept through the scorched streets, though there seemed to be no bandits left in this sector of the city — moved on to plunder richer homes or otherwise dispense Bakura's evildoing. Still, Atem held tightly to Satiah's hand as they walked, and her grip was equally firm.
At the first cross-street, half the battalion turned southward, led by Mahad. "This way, my queen," he said, looking back. "The civilians were last seen taking shelter in the Temple of Hathor."
Satiah's body moved to follow, but her hand remained grasped tight to Atem's — their arms drawn taut like a thread of fate until momentum forced their fingers apart. She turned away, casting a starshower of tears from her cheeks.
Atem watched her disappear behind the haze, fading like ka into the aether.
"Pharaoh."
Seto's voice caught Atem's attention again. Seto gestured onward, where the Temple of Sekhmet stood at the crest of the hill. In its shadow, the nomark's villa seemed relatively unschathed compared to the structures nearer to the water, but Atem knew it was likely because Bakura's bandits were busy turning it over. For this reason, they gave it a wide berth on their way up to the temple, intent to avoid the fray until they could pin down where Aknadin was being held.
Their hurried pace brought them quickly to the entrance of the temple, only for them to discover that an entire corner of the foremost courtyard had been blown inward by the prior battle. After a reverent pause to inspect the smoldering wreckage, Seto led the way over it. Inside, piles of debris still smoldered, sending pillars of smoke billowing into the red sky. Atem stepped down onto the sand, then paused to survey his surroundings, but the storm of soot and ash made it hard to distinguish creeping shadows from true threats.
Thankfully, their foe was bold enough to announce his presence with a laugh — cold and twisted, cutting sharply even through the heavy air. A moment later, a shadow grew long behind a billow of smoke. Atem tensed, ready to call upon his ka, only for his eyes to flash wide as Aknadin stumbled forward, falling prostrate to the ground in the center of the courtyard.
"Aknadin!" Seto called. He surged forward a step, but stopped when more cold laughter reverberated into a chilling trill along the close temple walls. A new figure then sliced a void through the smoke — familiar shades of red robes and a shock of white hair, all doused in streaks of soot.
Bakura grinned wickedly as he lifted a foot and pressed it flat on Aknadin's back, who writhed and groaned into the sand. Atem saw Seto twitch with intent again, but he held himself back — likely at the sight of more shadowy figures now taking shape behind the thief. Atem flicked his eyes all around the courtyard, trying to keep track of the new threats — at least a dozen bandits at his first cursory count. They all bore weapons of war — spears and swords and axes — though he had no way of knowing how many of them were gifted enough to summon ka as well.
Bakura laughed again and twisted his foot deeper into Aknadin's back. "Finally, your great Pharaoh arrives!" he shouted down to his prisoner; Aknadin groaned again. Still grinning, Bakura glanced back up at Atem. "I hope you enjoyed your little vacation, your highness—" He stopped himself, looking curious all of a sudden. "Ah, but where is your beloved wife? Surely she wouldn't want to miss all of this excitement."
Bakura threw his head back with more laughter, and Atem was only vaguely aware of the pain he was dealing his own hands, which he had clamped tight into fists.
"Name your price for the life of my advisor," he demanded, cutting Bakura's laughter short.
Slowly, the thief removed his foot from Aknadin's back. "My king, look around you!" he shouted. "What makes you think you're in any position to bargain with me?"
Atem swept his eyes across the courtyard again. "I confess I know not your purpose for desecrating this holy place," he said, projecting his voice so that every one of Bakura's bandits could hear. "But it seems to me if destruction was your only intent, you would have no cause to stay here any longer." When Atem looked back at Bakura again, the thief's dark eyes were glinting revealingly. "So that must mean you still need something," Atem went on. "Something only I can give you."
Bakura huffed. Grudgingly, he looked back to his line of bandits and snapped his fingers. From behind a puff of smoke, one of his minions trotted out, arms laden with a heavy object. The bandit dropped the object into the sand beside Aknadin, who winced and covered his head reflexively.
As the bandit backed away, Atem was able to get a clearer look at the object — the lockbox which held the Codex and Millennium Tome. But judging by its broken cover, Bakura had already succeeded in undoing Shimon's handiwork. Sure enough, as the thief bent over the box, he threw the cover back without a care and lifted up the Tome, displaying it proudly to Atem.
"Your father's dark secret," Bakura muttered, "come to light at last." Briefly, he thumbed through the pages, then pulled out a scrap of papyrus from the middle — one of his and Satiah's shorthand notes. "How clever you are to obfuscate your work," he said. "Or perhaps these are merely secret love letters, left between husband and wife?"
Laughter rippled through the line of bandits at the back of the courtyard; Atem's hands curled tighter still.
Bakura crumpled the note and tossed it away, then leaned down to drop the Tome back into the lockbox. "Alas, the gods' words are useless without a means to translate them. But lucky for us, you have earned your moniker, haven't you Pharaoh?" Bakura straightened, pulling the Codex up with him this time. "The King of Games, they call you. How fitting." He waved the Codex tauntingly, then began twisting the sections in random order. "And yet, it seems the Great Ancestor continues to protect his interests, even from beyond the grave!" He threw his arms up in feigned frustration. "Ramesses was clever in that way — always suspicious of those with … ambitious intent." He stepped forward a bit, then pointed the Codex straight out in front of him. "The key, Pharaoh. I know you have it on your person. Give it to me, and perhaps I'll return this pitiful priest unscathed."
Atem hesitated for a moment, flicking his eyes between the thief and his prisoner.
"Fine then," Bakura spat, "keep it if you wish." He bent over Aknadin, grabbing him by the scruff and turning him onto his back. "But what a shame it would be to leave Memphis empty handed. I think this—" he traced his finger along Aknadin's Millennium Eye, "—would be a touching souvenir to commemorate my travels, wouldn't you say, Pharaoh?"
Bakura pinched his fingers around the Eye's gold onlay, causing Aknadin to whimper in fear.
"Enough!" Atem shouted. He stood rigid a moment, until Bakura released the Eye and straightened up again. Swiftly, Atem reached beneath the collar of his cloak and took hold of the cartouche pendant, pulling on the twine sharply so that it snapped free from his neck. Holding it by the slack, he extended it toward his foe.
Bakura smirked wickedly, then grabbed Aknadin's robes again and forced him to his feet. "A wise choice, Pharaoh." With careful, measured steps, he moved forward, dragging Aknadin roughly beside him.
Atem, too, took his first step, ignoring Seto's hissing protests from behind. Slowly, Atem drew nearer to his enemy, until only an arm's length was left between them. From this angle, he could see the stark lines of mania stretching from the villain's grinning lips and furrowed brow. Beneath his right eye, the scars given to him by Satiah had now fully healed, turned a pallid, milky color that vaguely complemented his hair. His face doused in ash, Atem thought he looked more like a ghost than ever.
Bakura released Aknadin's robes and held out his free hand expectantly. Atem lifted his arm, locking eyes with his foe for a fleeting moment before releasing the pendant to fall into the thief's upturned palm.
Another amused chuckle shuddered through Bakura as he brought the cartouche to the Codex and slipped the etching into the slot at the top. "A wise choice indeed."
As soon as the cartouche slid into place, the Codex lit up with familiar arcane symbols. Grinning, but with his eyes locked on the glowing artifact, Bakura lifted his free hand and pushed on Aknadin's back, causing him to stumble forward. Atem caught Aknadin's shoulder to steady him, straightening him up to look into his functioning eye — panicked but grateful.
Aknadin had opened his mouth to speak, but his words were suddenly drowned in an ear-piercing screech echoing along the temple walls. Immediately, Atem glanced at Bakura — only to find the thief looking back at him with a similar expression of fearful suspicion.
Then, a shadow cut across the courtyard. Atem raised his eyes, his heart nearly bursting at the sight of shining, umbral blackness soaring overhead. The Red-Eyes Black Dragon let loose a second cry, nearly drowning yet another sound rumbling down from the distance — hoofbeats. Atem turned, looking through the collapsed temple wall to see a cloud of dust descending from the western ridge — ushered in behind dozens of mounted priests, led by Jahar and Metjen.
At the sound of another cry, Atem released Aknadin and faced Bakura again. The thief's eyes were upturned now, his face beginning to glow red as the Dragon gathered fire in its jaws. Swiftly, Atem dropped his eyes to a nearby debris pile. Lurching toward it, he slid his foot beneath a broken spear shaft on the ground and kicked it into the air, grabbing it in a javelin hold. With his foe distracted, Atem threw the spear shaft toward Bakura, striking the Codex and turning it to a hundred shimmering pieces.
Bakura flinched and looked down, his eyes shining with rage. He screamed a shrill "NO," but his voice was swallowed up as rippling heat rained down from on high, scattering the bandits at the edge of the temple. Atem, too, reeled and covered his head, and when he came back up for air, a streak of pale flesh and scales had flown up between him and his foe. Staggering back, Atem found himself face to face with Bakura's ka — the fearsome Diabound.
The monster reared its snake-head, allowing Atem to glimpse its master for a moment — on his knees and gathering the broken pieces of the Codex. Knowing he was too late to counter Diabound's attack, Atem braced himself, only to hear the warm hum of magic and a resounding clash overhead. Looking up, he saw Diabound grappling with a familiar ka — Seto's — the mighty winged swordsman, Duos.
Seizing his chance, Atem fell back to a safe distance and readied himself to summon his own ka. But he found himself frozen with wonder yet again as magical auras flooded the courtyard from all sides — spirit after spirit, coming down from the heavens like servants of the gods to mete vengeance upon the fleeing bandit army.
Atem returned to the present moment when Seto grunted behind him. Flicking his eyes back to the center of the courtyard, Atem saw Diabound breaking free of Duos' parry. Diabound's snake head then reared itself up, lashing out to strike at Duos' middle. The strained cry that came from Seto told Atem the attack had connected, and when Diabound withdrew its fangs, Duos was left to crumple pitifully to the sand.
"Seto!" Atem cried, whipping his head over his shoulder to see his comrade hugging himself in pain. Atem rushed over to support Seto, whose eyes were downturned in disappointment.
"I'm sorry, my king," he said.
"No," Atem gasped, "you fought bravely, my friend."
Seto grabbed at Atem's shoulder, then nodded his head toward the fray behind them. "Hurry — you must not let the thief get away."
Atem looked over his shoulder to see Diabound fleeing across the courtyard, his master shortly behind, whose arms were laden with his spoils. At the edge of the temple, Diabound burst effortlessly through the wall as if it were made of glass, then shielded Bakura as he climbed up the debris and disappeared from sight.
Atem turned back to Seto. "Stay here and gather your strength," he said. "When you're able, rejoin the battle and help free the city."
Seto nodded his understanding, allowing himself to be taken to shelter by the kingsguard who were clustered nearby. Instantly, Atem set off back through the crumbling temple wall.
Across the hot sands, he met eyes with Jahar and Metjen, who were directing the rebel priests deeper into the city. Atem raced to meet them, taking hold of Metjen's reins to steady his twitching steed.
"Lend me your horse!" he called. "Their leader is fleeing!"
Metjen looked conflicted a moment, but he quickly dismounted and offered the reins. Atem took them and threw his leg over the steed.
"Let us come with you," Jahar shouted.
"No!" Atem turned his horse in a circle to address the older men one last time. "Go south — find Satiah! Save as many civilians as you can!"
With that, he kicked hard into his horse's sides, sending the steed lurching onward. He followed the exterior of the temple a ways, changing directions only when he glimpsed a pale blur rising up in the distance. In its shadow, Bakura fled on horseback, taking a trail westward into the mountains.
Atem snapped his reins to follow with haste. He gained ground quickly, but Bakura was already wise to his pursuit; looking over his shoulder, he swept his arm out to his ka. Instantly, Diabound pivoted, gathering a storm of swirling energy between its claws. Atem jerked his reins, just barely dodging the windforce blast Diabound unleashed a moment later. Quickly, he raised his own arm, calling on a new servant to defend him: bearing gold armor cut through with twisting red sinew, the mighty Curse of Dragon took flight.
In a flash, the Dragon surged forward and collided with Diabound, preventing it from unleashing its next attack. The two ka tangled, their momentum still hurtling them onward above the storm of hoofbeats. A moment later, Diabound finally broke free of the Dragon's hold, sending Atem's ka flying into the cliff face. Wincing, Atem pushed through the sting of pain, urging his steed to keep pace as Bakura ducked around a switchback ahead. After Atem careened around the corner as well, he heard the distinct whoosh of the Dragon taking flight again.
On the next incline, the Dragon surged overhead, but instead of launching another attack on Diabound, Atem directed the spirit past it — and even beyond Bakura, who had almost reached the next switchback now. Gliding close to the cliff overhead, the Curse of Dragon used its long, hooked tail to scrape the rockface, sending a landslide of stone and debris falling down onto the path below. Bakura was forced to pull up short on his reins as he reached the flat overlook, trapping himself between a treacherous pile of boulders on one side and his pursuer on the other.
Atem, too, pulled hard on his reins, and his ka swept back to hover over his shoulder. Diabound did the same, shielding its master with its massive body.
Bakura yelped a short laugh from behind his creature. "You know what's amazing about you, Pharaoh?" he sang. "It seems you have no shortage of pawns willing to throw themselves into the fire for your sake. What is it about you that inspires such blind faith? You are just one man! One stupid, spoiled, weak excuse of a man!"
Atem gripped tight to his reins. "They believe in what I stand for," he called back. "In justice. In truth."
"Oh, really?" Bakura prodded. "And I suppose you believe you inherited such virtue from your father? The man who put an entire village to the sword for the sake of his own wicked ambition?" He let loose another dry laugh. "Well, unfortunately for you, Papo isn't here to protect you anymore. And neither are your pathetic Guardians — or your precious wife!"
Atem's core flared with rage. He thrust his arm up to the Dragon, whose narrow jaws parted to let loose a vortex of twisting flame toward Diabound. The pale creature dipped easily out of the way, causing Bakura to roar with more laughter.
"Speaking of which, where is the darling woman now?" Bakura called out. "I long to pay her back for what she did to me at Kul Elna."
Another flare of anger, another flash of fire. This one managed to wing Diabound, but the monster was ready with a counterattack — sharp wind sliced across the battlefield, connecting squarely with the Dragon and sending a bolt of pain staggering through Atem.
"Perhaps once I'm through with you, I'll go find her myself," Bakura threatened. "Feed her to Diabound for dessert."
Through squinted, sweat-soaked eyes, Atem looked up to see Bakura directing Diabound for a second attack. Foolishly, he sent the Dragon into the line of fire, in the hopes to at least inflict one scratch on the pale creature's hide. But his efforts were in vain — Diabound's snake head lashed out and sank its fangs into the Dragon's middle; Atem cried out and doubled over against his horse's neck while his spirit thrashed and struggled to break free.
Breaths coming short, vision narrowing, Atem gripped tightly to the mane of his steed. In his delirium, all he could think about was how it reminded him of Satiah's hair: coarse, but delicate — a feathery curtain running through his fingers.
"That's it… Get angry," Bakura hissed. "You can't beat me on your strength alone, and you know it. Call out to your God, if you so dare! See how it measures up to my anger — my hate!"
Forcing himself to sit up, Atem swept his arm out, sending one last jolt of strength into his ka. The Curse of Dragon finally broke free, teetering backward in a wide circle as it struggled against the poison now coursing through its body. Blinking back sweat from his eyes, Atem struggled to focus on his enemy, who sat smugly upon his horse with his head thrown back in laughter again.
While he listened to Bakura's distorted mirth, Atem's blurry vision was soon drawn over the thief's shoulder, out to the darkening expanse of Memphis, where fires still raged all across the city. The dull, weakening beat of his heart lurched to life again when his eyes fell upon the Temple of Hathor — its proud pylons burning and sturdy walls collapsing.
More laughter rang out as Bakura took notice of the conflagration as well. "Oh my," he tutted. "Seems your reinforcements have been overrun." He clicked his tongue. "The Temple of Hathor — isn't that where the civilians are taking shelter?"
Every fiber of Atem's being seemed boiling with wrath — the same agonizing strength and scalding pain which had seized him in his battle against Jahar. And yet, his ba seemed to be fighting him — resisting the pull to call upon the Gods as he so longed to do. His body was here, facing down his mortal enemy with the creeping fingers of defeat reaching for him, but his heart was long gone — flying out across the burning city in search of his wife.
With a desperate cry, Atem dispersed his ka and jerked on his horse's reins, turning back down the path the way he'd come. Shame burned through him as he fled, with Bakura's howling laughter following around every twist and turn. Atem knew the thief would not follow — he already had everything he wanted and more, and before Atem even reached the bottom of the hill, he could hear Diabound breaking through the pile of debris to clear a path for his master into the safe shelter of the mountains.
Instead, Atem focused his wheeling thoughts on Satiah. It was possible she and the civilians had already made it out without harm, and the empty temple was simply left to burn while they sought safer ground. But as Atem sank back into the twisted streets of Memphis, he was haunted by Bakura's words. They infected him like a disease, conjuring up images of death and despair, even as he saw evidence of the rebel priests' victory all over the city — bandits fleeing, fires snuffed out, civilians being rescued. Still, the temple burned bright against the indigo sky, and Atem knew he would never forgive himself for sending his wife into danger's embrace without a second thought.
Finally, he rounded the corner to the temple's square; across from its smoldering remains, a large gathering of civilians stood protected and tended by priests of the Memphis Conclave. At the forefront, Metjen was bent over a limp mass on the ground, which Atem quickly identified as Mahad.
Panic surged through him again. He galloped forward and dismounted, coming to stand, panting, before Metjen, who turned his wide eyes up from Mahad's motionless form.
"He collapsed," Metjen breathed, "from the smoke."
"Satiah?" Atem pressed.
Metjen pointed to the temple. "She went back in to save a child left behind," he explained. "But she should be back by now!"
Immediately, Atem set off for the front gate of the temple. The wood beams at its base were engulfed in flames, and they licked hungrily at him as he sprinted through. Inside, the front courtyard was filled with smoke, which obscured his vision and hung heavy in his lungs. Coughing, he wrapped his cloak tight around his mouth and squinted to get his bearings. More flames poured out of the temple's main prayer hall at the other end of the courtyard, but with all the other entrances blocked or destroyed, Atem had to figure this was where Satiah had gone. Thinking quickly, he reached up and called upon a new ka: a long, smooth body of blue unfurled to float overhead — the Leviathan, a sea creature with the ability to channel the power of water. Atem thrust his hand up to the spirit, and it responded by sending forth a huge torrent to extinguish the flames ahead.
Without pause, Atem dashed through the dripping doorway into the dark prayer hall, where more fire wrapped itself around wood columns and ripped through linens hanging from the ceiling. He stumbled onward, his lungs still laden with smoke. Pulling his cloak away, he called out Satiah's name, stopping to listen for any sign of her reply — but nothing came. He forced himself deeper — his muscles protesting, head lightened, body drenched in sweat — and called out again.
This time, between a gasping, labored breath, he thought he heard the slightest sound of her voice, nearly drowned in the ear-splitting crackle of a beam overhead. "Satiah!" he cried again, given new strength by the mere thought of her presence.
Muffled, from beyond a nearby pillar, he heard his name being called, and his body was drawn instantly toward the sound. At the back of the prayer hall, he came upon the doorway to a small storeroom, and even from its threshold he could feel thick heat radiating from inside it. He stumbled through the door, steadying himself on the frame, and squinted through the smoke to see Satiah bent over at the back of the room. She was struggling to lift a collapsed, smoldering shelf, fallen between her and a small child cowering in the corner. Atem hurried to her side, bending to help her lever the shelf out from under the debris which trapped it.
"Go!" he coughed, and Satiah quickly crawled beneath the shelf to retrieve the child, who was sobbing fearfully. Arms quaking, Atem released the shelf just as they both emerged, then swept down to lift the child into one arm. With his free hand, he took Satiah's and led the way out of the storeroom.
Retracing his steps, Atem dragged his wife onward — through the smoldering prayer hall, out to the smoke-filled courtyard — until finally, they burst back into the open air on the streets beyond. Atem staggered forward to meet Metjen, who took the child from his arms and returned her to her grateful family. Unburdened, Atem spun to Satiah, sweeping her into a firm embrace. She returned it, nestling her head into his shoulder.
Hours could have passed and Atem would have been none the wiser. When he finally pulled away, he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. Her hair and face were streaked in ash, but he kissed her all the same, tasting of the soot on her lips. Breaking free, he pressed his forehead into hers and breathed relief down upon her. "Gods," he whispered, "I thought I'd lost you."
Satiah shuddered out a sigh of her own, then lifted her arms to brace herself against him, pushing them apart a bit. Her reddened eyes danced across his face for a moment, until finally, her hoarse voice choked out one word: "Bakura?"
In a fleeting moment, his relief collapsed back into searing shame. Slowly, he shook his head.
Her smile faded, taking every bit of her joy and hope with it, until there was nothing left painted on her features but dry ash and stale resentment.
AN: AGH! Rapid fire chapters! Sorry for the constant updates, but I have been feelin' myself lately and need to get these words out before I EXPLODE! XD Thanks again for continuing to read, and shoutout to the folks who have been reviewing lately (you know who you are... I appreciate it more than you know)!
