Seto bowed his head for a moment. He didn't see her glide towards him, dagger grasped in her hand, the flat of its blade resting softly against the smooth sienna skin of her forearm, waiting to be whipped out at a moment's notice. "Wait," he said suddenly. "What if there was something else I wanted?"

"Anything," she said, stopping to bide her time.

"Can you give me happiness?"

"There is power at your fingertips, Seto Kaiba. What else is there?"

"Mokuba," he admitted painfully. "I promised him a good life. I want him to be happy, and I want to know that I will never have to lose him again."

She studied him for a moment, surprised by his question. "You will have power, Seto. What better could protect him? Come shed the fallible shell of humanity for the callings of fate."

Seto raised the revolver again, a sneer glimmering in his eyes. "I don't believe in fate. Not when Isis Ishtar showed up with her lame prophesies and not now. You'll have to do better than that if you want to persuade me. But since you've made it clear that you intend to harm Yuugi, and I'm on guard duty tonight, I think I'll be getting rid of you now."

"Oh, but I think not."

*

Yuugi woke the next morning feeling lively and refreshed. He had heard no noise the night before, and he was finally growing accustomed to having someone sitting in the room when he slept. He looked around, but didn't see Kaiba. He shrugged, assuming the other had gone downstairs for a little breakfast. But when he slid from the bed, a sight he had not expected met his eyes. Lying at the foot of the bed was the dagger he had seen before, its eye symbol now dead and black. It was covered in blood, which spread and stained the carpet. Not a meter away, Seto lay facedown on the floor.

"Kaiba!" Yuugi cried out, running to the other boy's side.

Seto did not respond, even when Yuugi turned him onto his back. There was no wound to be seen, and no blood from Seto, but still he remained pale and cold. Yuugi immediately phoned the ambulance and the others. They arrived, Anzu still trying to run a brush through her hair and the others still finishing breakfast or pulling on jackets. The ambulance came a minute later, and they took Seto away.

The others came to the hospital much the way they had for Bakura, and gathered to listen to the diagnosis. Strangely enough, the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with Seto. "He seems all right; there aren't any cuts or anything and no of poison. His breathing and heartbeats are also fine. It's like he's sleeping, and the only thing really wrong is that he won't wake up," repeated Mokuba to the others as they walked to Seto's room.

They stood around the bed, silently respectful, with no one quite sure of what to say. The constant beeping of the heart monitor reminded Yuugi suddenly of an evening with a similar scene. It seemed so long ago. Words seemed to form themselves in his mouth, but never took on a distinctive sound. Something tugged within him, urging him, but he didn't know what for. Footsteps echoed in his mind, and he turned to see his grandfather standing in the doorway. Behind him, Malik walked slowly and painfully into view, hunched slightly out of instinct to guard his not-yet-healed wounds. His face still wore half a smile, though.

Sugoroku, however, spoke first. He held out the dagger towards Yuugi. "Here," he said. "I found this on your floor. Something told me to bring it to you rather than call the authorities. Is this what got Kaiba?"

Yuugi shook his head. "They didn't find any wounds."

Malik seated himself shakily into a chair, wincing as he straightened. "Take it, Yuugi. I sense something from it…maybe you don't, but I do."

His hand shaking slightly, Yuugi grasped the dagger by the handle. There was a sudden rush of light all around him, and everyone saw his face go blank much the way it did when he entered his soul room. He found himself in a large, round, white room. It had no doors or window, only walls, a ceiling, and a floor. The eye of Horus stared up at him, inlaid in gold beneath his feet. Seven glistening black cylinders stood at neat intervals against the wall with an eighth in the center of the room. Slowly, he walked toward the middle one. Upon close inspection, he realized there was a door on its side. He touched the ornate handle, and the door swung open without a sound. Nothing was inside except for a pool of crimson liquid on the floor. He realized with a shudder that it was blood and shut the door immediately. Bolstering his courage, he opened on of the cylinders against the wall. It was empty. So were the next three.

But as he approached the fourth, a feeling washed over him. He couldn't quite identify it, but it was something like finding the end of a maze you have wandered hopelessly for hours. He touched the handle.

Nothing happened.

He tugged on it with both hands. No response. Finally, he wrenched the handle and braced his feet against the cylinder. The door flew open with a bang and a rush of white smoke, and Yuugi tumbled over backwards. Standing, he gazed into the haze, and suddenly, a semi-transparent hand extended, groping, through the smoke. Before Yuugi could do anything, it was followed by a blue-clad arm, shoulder, and finally a familiar face.

"Yami?"