Parting

Isis's first thought when she woke was, I need to speak to Malik.

They had gotten in an argument the night before. He was just in a bad mood, Isis told herself. He's worried about his destiny. But he must realize how important it is for him to give the Pharaoh his memories. He would never betray the family.

She left her room and walked to Malik's. Standing outside of it and not looking in, she said, "Malik, could we talk about last night?"

No reply.

"Malik, I understand if you're still angry, but we need to talk about this." When she was answered again by silence, Isis sighed and turned toward the doorway, ready to enter. "Malik, I'm sorry, but—"

Malik wasn't there. The room was empty.

Isis was suddenly afraid. He must just be somewhere else, she tried to reassure herself. But in her heart, she feared he had done what he had threatened to the night before: left home again, this time for good.

Trembling slightly, Isis went to Rishid's room. "Rishid, are you in there?" She peeked in. "Rishid?" But he wasn't in his room either.

Isis quickly began to search the tomb that served as the Ishtars' home. She checked all of Malik's favorite places, but to no avail. Then she shuddered as she realized the only possibility. Trudging on reluctant feet, she walked towards the only door out of her home.

As she pushed the door open, she was momentarily blinded by the ferocity of the sun's light. But it hardly mattered, because she already knew in her heart what she would see.

"Hello, sister," said Malik's voice.

Isis shaded her eyes and forced them to stay open as she stared at her brother. He stood before her, Rishid immediately behind him… waiting for her?

At a loss for words, Isis tried to pretend that Malik was just misbehaving by going outside, not threatening to betray the family. "You really shouldn't be out here," she said matter-of-factly, stepping away from the door slightly and gesturing toward it in an invitation to go back inside.

Malik shook his head with a sad smile on his face. "Stop playing games with yourself, big sister," he reprimanded gently. "You know what I'm doing. Be angry. I won't mind."

"I'm not angry," Isis replied as her heart sank. "I'm just… confused. Malik… my brother… I don't understand why you want to leave. Why you want to betray our family."

"Do you really want to know?" Isis hesitated, then nodded a yes. "Then just listen for a minute," Malik instructed. "I don't want this to turn into another shouting match."

He paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. "I'm doing this… because I hate the Pharaoh," he said. His voice grew stronger with each word. "All I want is to be normal, but I'll never be able to. Not while his soul still wanders the earth. So… I'll kill him."

"Malik!!" Isis cried out in shock, unable to help herself. Her brother stopped talking, patiently waiting for her to finish. Weakly, she continued, "How can you say such things? They are treason against our family!"

"I'm doing this for the family, Isis. Certainly you don't enjoy living underground? In the darkness, shut off from the world… from the sun?" He spread his arms and tilted his head back. "How many generations have gone without feeling the glorious sun? How many of our ancestors never thought to go outside, to explore the beauty of the normal world?" He met Isis's eyes again, his gaze serious and intense. "When I kill the Pharaoh, I will break the curse that has been upon us for three millennia. We'll be able to live in freedom—in the sun!"

"Can't you just accept your fate?" Isis pleaded. "We must do what we are called to. Please, Malik…" Her voice wavered.

"Isis." Malik's eyes grew hard. "There is nothing you can say to convince me against this plan. Consider this, sister: if I did give him his precious memories, would we be freed? Given retribution for three thousand years of suffering and darkness?"

Isis gazed into her brother's eyes, which suddenly shone with frustrated tears.

"Isis, if I tell him, if I show him his 'memories', our purpose is gone and our entire family is no longer needed in this world. We are commanded to let our bloodline 'die out' after our duty is achieved. Does that seem fair?"

"We… we must serve our Pharaoh."

"I won't. I will not allow him to control my life. He doesn't care about us, Isis. He won't thank us, won't reward us. Loyalty doesn't matter. Was there ever a more loyal heir than Father? But his 'reward'…"

Isis's heart clenched as a single tear trailed down Malik's face. "Malik, there's something you don't know about Father…" Two years ago, she and Rishid had sworn never to tell Malik the truth about that day. It was easier letting him believe what the strange man had said: that it was the Pharaoh's will their father had been killed. Only Isis and Rishid knew about the abrupt change in Malik's character and his other self which had emerged from within and murdered their father. For two years, they had kept this knowledge from Malik, not wanting him to misinterpret it and think it was his fault, not wanting him to fear the dark presence. But now it seemed there was no other choice. Isis looked to Rishid, hoping he would help her tell the gruesome story.

But to her surprise, Rishid shook his head. He didn't want to tell Malik! "Rishid—"

"Miss Isis," he said quietly, "please do not tell Master Malik yet."

"Tell me what?" Malik looked from Isis to Rishid quickly. "What aren't you telling me? Is it something I should know?"

Isis looked at Rishid, who shook his head again. "No," Isis answered Malik reluctantly. "It doesn't matter." And in a way, she realized, it didn't. Malik was too determined to escape from the family laws—knowing who had really killed Father wouldn't stop him; it would only cause him pain. And she didn't want to do that.

Malik looked into her face. Isis wished there was a way for her to hide her tears without breaking his gaze. No matter what her brother wanted, she still loved him. She didn't want to be parted from him.

He seemed to sense her heart, for he said suddenly, "Come with me."

Isis's eyes widened. "Malik, I…" Her voice balked. She took a deep breath. "I can't do that. You know I can't. And I…" She forced herself to look angry and said firmly, "I won't let you leave, either."

"Isis…" With a sigh, Malik reached into his robe and pulled out the Millennium Rod. He held it awkwardly, his hand trembling, but Isis felt its power flare slightly in response to his wielding of it. "If you try to stop me, I will use this on you. Don't make me do that. You won't be able to stop me, so just let me leave quietly. I don't want to hurt you."

Isis hesitated, her mask of fierceness still in place, but then Malik's grip on the Rod tightened. "Please, sister," he said. He could not hide a slight tremor in his voice, nor could his determined look conceal the sincere worry on his face. "I'm begging you, don't make me hurt you."

It was that worry that finally made Isis turn away. "Go, then!" she cried. She struggled to hold her tears back and almost succeeded, but then—

"Good-bye, big sister," Malik said softly, sadly.

A sob choked Isis's throat. "Good-bye, brother," she whispered.