Chapter One: Bakura's Dream
The window was open. Cold air wafted in, spreading its eerie presence around the large room. A mist had gathered in the night, creeping in upon the sleepy town like an alley cat. It seeped under doorways, through mouse holes, tree trunks, loose boards and cracks in ceilings. It moved on silent haunches, smothering the city in its essence. The fog almost seemed to hide what truly lay hidden and in waiting in that city; an evil so powerful thousands of years had passed since such a danger was posed.
The room was large and barren. The mist settled comfortably on the worn carpet, the moisture burrowing into the fibers as it sat. The room grew musty and warm, tropical. The air became humid and hard to breathe. The figure inside the bed began to tremble in his sleep. The bed was the only piece of furniture in the room, besides a lonely wooden chair that sat facing the one window in the room, as if hoping for better days. The boy writhed under the thin covers, thrashing out with his lanky arms as a nightmare consumed him.
The bed sheets were ragged and see-through, a product of years of sad neglect. The boy sat up with a jolt, scaring several crows outside his window, perhaps waiting for the dawn to belt out their harsh song. Mist swirled and spiraled around him, disturbed by his sudden movement. Still unsure of whether he was still dreaming, he tried to fight the fog. He clawed at it and kicked the covers off frantically, eventually giving up and lying in the fetal position on his bed, trembling.
He glanced down to where his bed sheets had landed on the floor. It looked so far away, he couldn't reach them. He dare not. There could be someone, something. Under his bed. In his closet, behind him. He shook violently from head to toe, a mixture of fear and temperature. Sweat beads strolled happily down over the bridge of his nose, dripping off and plopping lightly onto the bare mattress, where they were quickly absorbed. His shaking hands grasped at his own chest, coming to rest on the Millennium Ring that rested against it.
He glanced downwards, locking eyes with the Ring. This thing, this thing that had ruined his life. Ruined his dreams and his aspirations. For years he had been a bright-eyed and happy boy. A fantastic student, he even skipped several grades. College was easy enough, with all the extracurriculars he had on record. But that all changed when his father brought this cursed piece of metal back from Egypt.
Oxygen came rarely, like a defeated army in retreat, slipping back to the base at a slow trickle. He ran the fingers of his left hand over the Ring gently, letting them dip and rise with the perfectly carved grooves of the artifact.
"Spirit, the spirit. Get out." he stammered, trying to muster the strength to speak. "Get out of my head, out my life!" he shrieked, ripping the Ring from his neck and reeling his arm backwards, as if to throw it.
Suddenly, his arm froze. There, in the night, his hand stopped instantly. The Ring remained clutched tightly in his grasp. The broken string wavered limply, hanging down over his fingers, intertwined with itself. The mist hovered over the room, holding itself perfectly still in anticipation. Slowly the hand and fingers regained movement, but they did not finish their throw. Instead they carried the Ring back to the boy, who held it up to his face. It was not a boy's face, no. Not a boy's face at all, but the face of an ancient. A powerful, evil ancient. The face smiled at itself in the reflection of the glowing Ring.
"I see you've grown tired of our partnership, little Ryou. I am fed up with sharing this mortal vessel as well. After all, flesh and blood is so vulnerable." he mused, his voice deep and incredibly menacing.
He dug his fingernails into his own wrist and chuckled wickedly to himself as spots of dark crimson appeared, running down his forearm. His caressed the blood, spreading it around his arm in an interested sort of fashion. His eyes burned bright; the color of red-hot liquid silver.
"I will give you your freedom, in time. But for now I need your connection to the Yugi child and his friends. Deliver me the Puzzle and I will sever my bond to your mind." he spoke simply, grinning as if he knew the reply to come.
Ryou's transparent form appeared beside the body he once controlled. His head was buried in his hands, his long white hair shielding his eyes from view.
"No, I can't do that to Yugi. He's my friend. My friend! Have you ever had a friend, spirit? Of course you haven't, you haven't got a heart! But I do, and-"Ryou was cut short.
"Enough of your complaints. Refute my demands and you'll never be rid of me." the being ordered.
"Damn." his eyes filled with tears, streaming down his pale cheeks. "Damn it!" he seethed.
Falling from the bed, the vision of Ryou collapsed upon his knees and buckled, left lying whimpering on the wet carpet, wrapped in fog.
"My conditions are accepted."
The window was open. Cold air wafted in, spreading its eerie presence around the large room. A mist had gathered in the night, creeping in upon the sleepy town like an alley cat. It seeped under doorways, through mouse holes, tree trunks, loose boards and cracks in ceilings. It moved on silent haunches, smothering the city in its essence. The fog almost seemed to hide what truly lay hidden and in waiting in that city; an evil so powerful thousands of years had passed since such a danger was posed.
The room was large and barren. The mist settled comfortably on the worn carpet, the moisture burrowing into the fibers as it sat. The room grew musty and warm, tropical. The air became humid and hard to breathe. The figure inside the bed began to tremble in his sleep. The bed was the only piece of furniture in the room, besides a lonely wooden chair that sat facing the one window in the room, as if hoping for better days. The boy writhed under the thin covers, thrashing out with his lanky arms as a nightmare consumed him.
The bed sheets were ragged and see-through, a product of years of sad neglect. The boy sat up with a jolt, scaring several crows outside his window, perhaps waiting for the dawn to belt out their harsh song. Mist swirled and spiraled around him, disturbed by his sudden movement. Still unsure of whether he was still dreaming, he tried to fight the fog. He clawed at it and kicked the covers off frantically, eventually giving up and lying in the fetal position on his bed, trembling.
He glanced down to where his bed sheets had landed on the floor. It looked so far away, he couldn't reach them. He dare not. There could be someone, something. Under his bed. In his closet, behind him. He shook violently from head to toe, a mixture of fear and temperature. Sweat beads strolled happily down over the bridge of his nose, dripping off and plopping lightly onto the bare mattress, where they were quickly absorbed. His shaking hands grasped at his own chest, coming to rest on the Millennium Ring that rested against it.
He glanced downwards, locking eyes with the Ring. This thing, this thing that had ruined his life. Ruined his dreams and his aspirations. For years he had been a bright-eyed and happy boy. A fantastic student, he even skipped several grades. College was easy enough, with all the extracurriculars he had on record. But that all changed when his father brought this cursed piece of metal back from Egypt.
Oxygen came rarely, like a defeated army in retreat, slipping back to the base at a slow trickle. He ran the fingers of his left hand over the Ring gently, letting them dip and rise with the perfectly carved grooves of the artifact.
"Spirit, the spirit. Get out." he stammered, trying to muster the strength to speak. "Get out of my head, out my life!" he shrieked, ripping the Ring from his neck and reeling his arm backwards, as if to throw it.
Suddenly, his arm froze. There, in the night, his hand stopped instantly. The Ring remained clutched tightly in his grasp. The broken string wavered limply, hanging down over his fingers, intertwined with itself. The mist hovered over the room, holding itself perfectly still in anticipation. Slowly the hand and fingers regained movement, but they did not finish their throw. Instead they carried the Ring back to the boy, who held it up to his face. It was not a boy's face, no. Not a boy's face at all, but the face of an ancient. A powerful, evil ancient. The face smiled at itself in the reflection of the glowing Ring.
"I see you've grown tired of our partnership, little Ryou. I am fed up with sharing this mortal vessel as well. After all, flesh and blood is so vulnerable." he mused, his voice deep and incredibly menacing.
He dug his fingernails into his own wrist and chuckled wickedly to himself as spots of dark crimson appeared, running down his forearm. His caressed the blood, spreading it around his arm in an interested sort of fashion. His eyes burned bright; the color of red-hot liquid silver.
"I will give you your freedom, in time. But for now I need your connection to the Yugi child and his friends. Deliver me the Puzzle and I will sever my bond to your mind." he spoke simply, grinning as if he knew the reply to come.
Ryou's transparent form appeared beside the body he once controlled. His head was buried in his hands, his long white hair shielding his eyes from view.
"No, I can't do that to Yugi. He's my friend. My friend! Have you ever had a friend, spirit? Of course you haven't, you haven't got a heart! But I do, and-"Ryou was cut short.
"Enough of your complaints. Refute my demands and you'll never be rid of me." the being ordered.
"Damn." his eyes filled with tears, streaming down his pale cheeks. "Damn it!" he seethed.
Falling from the bed, the vision of Ryou collapsed upon his knees and buckled, left lying whimpering on the wet carpet, wrapped in fog.
"My conditions are accepted."