Future's Prologue
By Farli
Rating: G
Summary: A beginning - the beginning of the end.. Shaadi-fic, as requested by Misura.
Warning: Series Spoilers for EVERYTHING! ...Only not. Sort of. :3
Written: 6/12/04
Author's Note: One good thing about YGO is that I get to indulge in messing with Egyptian Mythology without worrying about a huge slap on the wrist for massively incorrect details, seeing as the series has already taken and turned everything on its ear. :3 That said, I tried to stay true to the original source, while keeping in line with what we've seen.
Not sure this is quite what you wanted, Misura, but I hope you enjoy! Also, a BIG thank you to Animarelic for the quick beta, too!
The paths of the dead are a maze bound in sand and stone, with naught to guide you to Heaven save the spells the priests bound you in. Rituals, to dictate the route one must take through the cursed veil of Shadow, with shabti assigned to guard the ka and ba and amulets to ward off the Shadows of those who lost their way, falling prey to the poisons of Apophis.
Dried linen crackles under eternal sun's rays, Ra's gift to the faithful. Beyond the shadow realms, light fills the world, just as the Nile flooded Egypt with her tearful blessing.
The House of Judgement stand at the point of eternity. As the Eyes opens, thoughts flicker with the memory of sandled feet walking across golden sands, to temples dedicated to the lord of the dead. Bronzed arm extends, barring the way, hooked beak dipping a moment to indictate that the awakening soul is forbidden passage beyond this chamber. Soul bound to tasks yet accomplished.
Duty keeps him within the Time's flow: only when the guardianship ends may he, too, weigh his heart against the feather of truth.
Awareness is lacking. It takes the hawk visage of Horus to chase away the cobwebs of years one thousand, two thousand, three thousand strong, kohl lines sharpening falcon's gaze.
He is here in the sight of Gods, and he is not afraid.
Hand is taken and he is led once more into the Sun's light, the press of gold and death and life incarnate in key form cool against his palms, palms neither rough or smooth in his state of insubstantiality. A soft tap of talons across marble precede the sight of the long bill of the Wise One, surplanting the vision of he who might have been his patron god, once. Before the game Ended the first time.
To him now passes the keeping of a second Item (importance dictates that pronouciation, even in thought, is capitalized), made in mimicry of the Scales of Truth; tarnished with the memory of the blood shed to forge them, shrouded in the same darkness that keeps him routed between all places and none. Thoth's knowledge spans beyond existance, and as scribe of the gods, it is he who shall record the result of this, the final judgement of the nameless Pharaoh. As witnessed through him.
The Ibis god steps aside to allow a glimpse of figures beyond, waiting at the door. Waiting for him. For their lost prince. Before the shadowed throne paces Ammut, awaiting the meal she knows she will find in the corrupted Thief, the one true chaotic element that will bend, could break the Final Game, would break if he could.
But he has years yet. Years, before the Gravekeepers will be delivered an heir presumptive, before the matriarch passes into Osiris' waiting arms upon the birth of the true golden-haired heir. Years, before a grieving young man, blind to reason, seeks the secret to restoring life long passed.
Years, before a man with a perchant for chance will succeed where many have failed, and keep safe the most dangerous treasure of all.
Written words have been worn away by time (so much and yet so little of it left), and his voice has rusted, dry as the tomb he will return to. Words, spoken in tandem with the falcon god, spoken as he fades from this place on the borders of paradise, the Eye of Horus burned into his vision. He is the last-but-one guardian able yet to protect the future, to protect his slumbering god-King. And until the other has means to return, only he can ensure that the balance held in the hands of men tips not in the favour of Darkness.
--Fini--