Prologue

Egypt: September 16, 1995

Even before his death, with nearly 3,000 years of life behind him, time was a concept that rarely concerned Shadi. While sitting in a market stall beneath a canopy to ward off the sun, it amused him to watch the other vendors leap around like monkeys, screaming to be noticed, haggling over a single coin like it made the difference between dinner and an empty belly, all of them in a hurry from one customer to the next, from one day of market to the next, while giving no thought to what would be left when all the customers and days were bled out. They begrudged every moment that wasn't a sale as wasted.

"I want this stall," someone demanded gruffly.

The two tombkeepers from Shadi's clan acting as guards greeted the man's declaration with cold stares.

"It's been empty for years," the man insisted. "And it's a choice spot. What good does it do anyone to have you white-robes stand here in the sun all day selling nothing and wasting your lives? Sell it to me."

"He's right, you know." Shadi leaned forward. "You could at least come out of the sun."

Although the tombkeepers could hear him, they gave no response, either to him or the man. They were loyal, and Shadi appreciated that. They were also a bit stiff. It was a natural side-effect of the calling.

Shadi reclined again. "Tell him after my business is finished, he can buy the stall."

After all, the clan didn't need it. Those who sold at market to provide for the others already had spots and wares of their own. Shadi's stall had once been important to him, had been a way for him to pass the time and enjoy the open air while waiting for the years to wear themselves out and bring him to the prophesied time.

But now the tide had come in, and there was only one matter left to finish in Egypt before he was called once more across the sea.

"Master Shadi says once his business is completed, you may purchase the stall."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Where's your master, eh? Where did he say that from?"

But the guards were silent once more.

"Fine, then. When's this business done?"

Shadi glanced up at the clear sky. "After the treasure of the Valley of Kings is given in gift to a child. Before the first sun's rising upon the pharaoh's renewed form. After the clan cries for the corruption of her own. Before the heavy eye turns from visions of beauty to visions of greed."

Wisely, the guards did not relay his message. Just as a man who lived all his life on land could not fathom navigating an endless ocean by stars alone, so an unconsecrated man could not fathom navigating life by the word of prophecy and inspiration. But it was a language familiar to Shadi.

He gave a faint smile. "Tell him within the month."

They relayed the message, and after promising to buy the stall at the stroke of midnight at the month's end, the man moved on his way.

Always impatient. Always in a hurry.

The afternoon passed steadily. Shadi kept a watchful eye on the street but not a frantic one. His thoughts were unconcerned; whether the man made his appearance today or the next day or the next made no difference. He would come when he came, just as Pegasus Crawford had, and he would claim the Millennium Item fated to him, just as Pegasus Crawford had.

And just before the light faded, when more than half the market was already packed up and gone, Kazue Bakura came hurrying down the street.

Shadi stood. "It's him."

The two guards stiffened.

Mr. Bakura hurried from stand to stand only to be waved off and turned away as vendors packed their wares and loaded their carts. The haste that busied them to gather as many customers as possible during the day now applied itself to getting home as quickly as possible.

"Come back tomorrow," they told him.

"I want to buy—"

"Come back tomorrow."

Shadi leaned forward. He would have braced his hands on the table had it been possible. As it was, he stepped into it slightly, angling himself for a view of the Japanese gentleman who'd arrived in Egypt months earlier on a doomed expedition. Shadi had seen him then, of course, but their encounter wasn't fated until later, so he waited.

Now the time had come.

Mr. Bakura spotted the one stall not in a rush to leave, and relief washed over his face. He came to a stop in front of the tombkeepers, bowing his head quickly before consulting a book in his hand that seemed to be a tourist's guide to common phrases in Arabic.

"I want to buy a . . . souvenir," he said stiffly, tripping over the pronunciation.

Shadi's sharp eyes took in the disheveled man from head to foot. His bleached hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his face was streaked with sweat and dust, as were his clothes. The hat on his head was barely holding on, but he hadn't seemed to notice yet.

"Tell him he may speak Japanese."

The guard on the right, more versed in languages than his comrade, relayed the message.

"Really?" Mr. Bakura's entire frame sagged as he released a sigh. He slapped the book closed and began peering at the stall's table. "I need to buy something for my son. It's his birthday. Well, I may have missed it by a few days—anyway, what have you got?"

"Nothing fit for a child," Shadi said honestly.

After the guard spoke, Mr. Bakura patted his shoulder carelessly. "He's not much of a child, and anything will do."

Shadi's expression tightened, but this was not a prophecy he had a mind to interfere with.

"Open the box," he said to the tombkeepers.

The guard on the left reached for a thin box hidden beneath a stack of shawls. He pried the lid off, set it aside.

Mr. Bakura's eyes went wide.

"Tell him it's a dangerous artifact."

Mr. Bakura stepped closer. He unfolded a set of narrow glasses from his pocket and slid them on, leaning closer to examine the Millennium Ring sitting innocuously on its bed of velvet lining.

"Tell him the one who wears it will be possessed by an evil spirit."

"This is perfect," the man murmured to himself, lifting his glasses, then lowering them again. "I can tell him I found it in an expedition." He glanced up at the guards. "How much?"

Shadi frowned. "Tell him again."

Halfway through, the man waved a hand. "No, I heard you the first time—possession, dangerous. It's perfect. Ryou goes wild for all that occult stuff, and I can only buy him so many Ouija boards before I feel like I may as well not send him anything at all."

"This is no joke, Mr. Bakura."

The man took a step back, looking wary for the first time. "How'd you know my name?"

"Our meeting today has been prophesied for many years."

"Oh, neat. How about a prophecy discount?"

Shadi released a sigh. He looked at the Millennium Ring, which seemed at once to be both quivering with energy and sitting perfectly still. It was perhaps the most dangerous of all the items, and the thought of it in a child's hands was sobering.

"Tell him if he can take it without dying, it's his."

Kazue Bakura was not the first to fit the signs of the prophecies. Only a few months before, Shadi had offered the ring to another. That man had barely touched it before losing his mind to the shadows. It had been the same with the eye—two others had failed before it accepted Pegasus.

Mr. Bakura laughed as if the statement had been a joke. "Alright, I'll hold you to your word! No more bartering!"

Then he lifted the ring fearlessly from its box.

The five daggers around its bottom edge shivered.

Its Eye of Horus flashed with light.

Mr. Bakura's eyes glazed.

And Shadi waited.

Minutes ticked by in silence. The last of the light faded from the sky. One of the tombkeepers lit a torch, set it in a sconce to the side of the stall.

Then Mr. Bakura shook his head, coming back to himself. The glow from the ring vanished.

"Pardon me, must have zoned out there," he said.

"As promised," Shadi said, "the ring is yours."

Without either protest or thanks, the man moved off, artifact in hand. Shadi's business was concluded, and the last of the seven Millennium Items had found a user.

"Master Shadi, what now?"

Shadi moved instinctively to put a hand on the tombkeeper's shoulder, then stopped himself. After thousands of years with a body and only seven without, he still forgot himself at times.

"Now, all the pieces are on the board," he said, "and for better or worse, the shadow war begins again."

Note: Welcome back, guys! I hope you're excited for round two; I certainly am. Next chapter update will be Thursday, July 25, 2019.