Consequences

Please… Please forgive us, Father!

My heart was slamming against my chest as I ran through the tomb. I was surprised that my legs still held me up; the way they were shaking, I thought they would collapse.

Why hadn't I listened to my instincts? I had been reluctant to break the clan laws and bring Malik outside, vaguely afraid of what would happen if Father found out. But Malik insisted it would be fine, and Rishid promised to stay and make sure nothing happened. And I did want to make Malik smile—so I acquiesced.

But Father had found out. He had set a trap for us, and now…

"Isis, what's wrong?" Malik said for at least the third time. He had been alarmed when I started running, but I couldn't bring myself to say aloud the conclusion I had come to. Maybe, by some miniscule chance, I was wrong…

Then I reached Malik's room. I began shaking with a new fear and I had to clutch the doorframe before my legs really did collapse.

The room had been torn apart. The carefully hidden books that I had brought Malik from outside were littered all over. The bowl of water that we had been using to treat Malik's fake "fever" was lying, overturned, on the floor.

And Rishid wasn't there…

Malik caught up to me and looked into the room. He drew in a deep gasp of realization and terror and then started running again, now sharing my fear and searching for Rishid. Once I had gotten over my shock, I followed him.

Finally, Malik stopped the Ceremony Room. "R… Rishid!" he shouted. Heart pounding, I joined him.

What I saw made me stumble backwards. "Rishid…" I breathed in horror. He was on his hands and knees, his robe ripped to expose the deep stab wounds that covered his back. Standing over him, Father held a white-hot knife in his hand.

"Father!" Malik yelled, taking a few steps forward.

Father turned towards us, his face twisted with hatred and rage. "Malik… Isis… You two broke the clan laws!" He went to one of the torches, wherein two more knives waited, slowly heating up. He replaced the one he was holding and then took another. "I'll show you the price you must pay… but first, this man will die!"

With a scowl, he returned to Rishid. "We took you in when your own family saw how worthless you were. We raised you and educated you—is this how you answer that kindness? You can't even be a good slave!"

His face filled with pain and fear, Rishid answered faintly, "I'm sorry…"

Malik ran towards Father and grabbed his arm. "Stop, Father!" But the man simply threw Malik off, sending him crashing into a wall.

"Malik!" I ran to my younger brother in concern, far too cowardly to try to help Rishid.

But Malik ignored his own pain, focusing his terrified gaze on Father and Rishid. With a frightened reluctance, I did the same.

Grinning widely, Father swung his arm down and stabbed the hot knife deep into Rishid's back. Malik and I let out simultaneous gasps of horror as Rishid screamed. "Rishid…" Malik whispered, his eyes wide.

Malik and I could do nothing but watch as Rishid eventually weakened and began to drift out of consciousness. "Die," Father commanded with a smirk on his face, stabbing him one last time.

My stomach dropped as Rishid's muscles slowly relaxed and his consciousness was lost altogether. NO!

Father had no remorse. "You're next, Malik."

I jerked, afraid, and almost got up to block Malik from Father. I would not, could not let this man do the same to Malik as he had just done to Rishid…

Then Malik gave a strange grunt. His face was twisted and his eyes were wide; he was obviously in pain. He clamped his hands to his head. "Malik…" I said, uncertain. Even Father was distracted for a moment, pausing in his bloodlust.

Suddenly Malik's face relaxed and he lowered his hands. His mouth spread into a smirk and then a grin. He stood and instinctively I backed up. Stretching as if he had just awoken from a long sleep, he cried, "Ahhhhhh… I must thank you for killing Rishid, Father!"

I gasped and backed up another step. What was my brother saying?

Malik laughed and then added, "This is so refreshing!"

Father was incredulous. "Malik… what the…?"

Ignoring Father's question, Malik sauntered over to the table where the family's two Millennium Items were kept. He paused for only a moment, then picked up the Millennium Rod with a deliberate motion. "From now on this is mine!"

"Malik!" Father shouted as my brother—was it really my brother?—tested out the feel of the Rod. "You're not allowed to touch the Millennium Items!"

"Shut up," Malik said coldly, glaring at Father. With a flash, a strange eye shape appeared on Malik's forehead. My brother then held up the Rod and pointed it at Father. I felt its power rip through the air and hit Father, slamming him into the wall and locking him there.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Malik!" I scolded. "What in the world are you—"

My brother smirked tightly and said in a calm voice, "Why don't you be a good little girl and stand over there for a while." Before I knew it, the Rod's power had hit me as well, throwing me almost head-first into the wall and trapping me there.

"Now, Father," said my brother, turning away from me, "it is time for your blood festival to begin…"

Father was obviously terrified. "S… stop…" he commanded weakly. But Malik's only response was a snicker. My stomach turned as he wrenched off the bottom half of the Millennium Rod to reveal a knife.

"Malik, stop!" I shouted, panicking. He wouldn't really do anything to Father, would he? Somehow my conviction of that was fading fast. "Malik!"

Laughing wildly, my brother approached Father and raised the knife. This… this isn't like Malik… I thought desperately. It c-can't be him…

Whispers of unconsciousness began to steal through my mind and, terrified of the way Malik was acting, I welcomed them and let them pull me away…

I awoke when the power holding me to the wall disappeared. Overbalanced by the abrupt freedom, I stumbled forward a few steps before standing up straight.

"FATHER!" Malik's voice screamed suddenly.

Quickly I looked up to see what was wrong. When I did, I had to clamp my hands over my mouth to keep from echoing Malik's cry.

Father was on his knees, his arms bound to the pillar behind him. From his limp pose alone, it would be all too simple to tell that he was dead.

But there to clarify that horrifying fact was the blood dripping from his body, joining the puddle of it that had already formed beneath him. It was too much blood, far more than any person could lose and still manage to stay alive.

Mindlessly, I stepped back and leaned against the wall for support. There were no thoughts in my mind, just a numb horror. I watched blankly as Malik ran forward to Father, untied him, wrapped his arms around Father's head.

"Father…" he said, his voice shaking. "F-Father…"

Here was my brother, the boy who had laughed as he raised a knife against our father, sobbing over Father's death. And they were not the sobs of remorse, but of fear and shock, as if he'd been unaware of doing such a thing. The sight made no sense, and yet somehow it was transfixing.

I stared until I could bear it no longer, then tore my eyes away from the scene. As I did, I saw Rishid, who was cautiously trying to stand. I was flooded with relief and ran over to him. "You're alive," I said softly.

But he did not respond to me; he kept his eyes on Malik. "Rishid…" I said. I didn't understand why he would ignore me.

"Later, Miss Isis."

I helped my older brother up and let him lean on me. Then, together, we stood watching my younger brother as he sobbed into Father's hair.

Later, we would be grateful for those still living. Right now we were mourning the dead.

For weeks after Father's murder, Malik wouldn't speak—he just stayed in his room, lying on his bed. When I came in to bring him something, or to try to convince him to talk, he ignored me. Several times when I had gone in or even just gone past his room, he had been crying; but each time he blocked his tears until he thought I was out of hearing range.

So instead I spent most of my time tending to Rishid, who was slowly regaining strength. Once or twice, we marveled at how amazing it was that he was alive after Father tried to kill him. We tried to stay on lighter topics, though, as if ignoring that day would erase it from existence.

But we both knew we'd have to face it eventually…

"Miss Isis, would you tell me how was your father was killed?"

The question came almost two weeks after the murder. I bit my lip, aware that my hands were suddenly trembling. Though I had been expecting Rishid to ask, I wasn't ready for it. Even his gentle way of asking couldn't prevent the memory of sorrow and terror from stabbing my heart. My eyes filled with tears and sobs rose in my throat. "It was—" I started, but my voice cracked. "It—" All my tears exploded at once and I hunched over, crying and shaking uncontrollably. Rishid put his arm around my shoulders to comfort me. I cried for a long time, until I felt like I was empty.

"M-Malik did it, Rishid," I said softly, catching my breath in a slight hiccup. "When you p-passed out, when we thought you were d-dead, he… he lost it. He changed completely. And he p-picked up the Millennium Rod and trapped m-me and Father with it, and then he t-t-took out a knife from the Rod, and…" I had to stop to fight off returning tears.

"You don't have to say anymore, Miss Isis," Rishid told me quietly. "I saw enough to know the rest."

I started crying again, unable to stop myself. "Rishid, I was so scared!" I sobbed. "Th-the whole time I was w-wondering how could this possibly be Malik, how could my little brother d-do this, and I wouldn't have believed if someone had t-told me, but I w-watched it myself, a-and he… He enjoyed it, he l-loved killing Father. Th-the expression on his face was like… like it was outside… b-but it was t-twisted, like there was something wrong with him…"

Rishid seemed troubled. "Miss Isis, did he say anything that made you suspect that he wasn't Master Malik? Anything that seemed strange?"

I must thank you for killing Rishid, Father! The words echoed in my mind and I flinched. Malik would never say such a cruel thing about Rishid, I was sure of it.

Then I remembered what Malik had said right after that. "When he stood up, he said, 'This is so refreshing,'" I quoted uncertainly. "And he acted like he was… waking up…"

Rishid gave a deep sigh. He started trembling; there was regret on his face, and to my great surprise, I saw a hint of tears in his eyes.

"Rishid?!" I exclaimed. "Rishid, what's wrong?" I had never seen Rishid cry, never.

Haltingly, Rishid started to explain. "For the past year… Master Malik has had… two personalities. The first one… the 'original'… is the one you're used to, the 'main' personality. But the other…" Here Rishid paused, as if to gather his thoughts.

"The other was created… last year. When Master Malik received the Gravekeepers' Ritual. Master Malik couldn't bear… everything he had to go through. His… mind… and his heart… became filled with too much darkness. So unconsciously, he created… another personality, a… stronger one… to deal with it, to take away… some of his pain…"

My eyes widened as I began to understand. "It was the other personality, wasn't it?"

Rishid continued, "But that personality… needed to be sealed away. The darkness in Master Malik's heart corrupted the other personality too easily. So I've… kept it sealed, this past year. And instead of the other personality bearing Master Malik's pain, I've…" Rishid lightly touched the scars on the side of his face. "I've taken it upon myself… so that as long as I'm conscious, I'm able… to be strong for Master Malik. But that day… when I lost consciousness… I couldn't stop the other personality from emerging…" Rishid looked ashamed, and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

"You feel like it's your fault, don't you?" I asked incredulously.

"It is," he replied, soft but decisive. "I was not able to be strong enough."

"It's not!" I insisted. "It's not your fault, Rishid! You were almost dead! It wasn't your fault you passed out!" I gave a short, bitter laugh. "It's more my fault," I commented. "I'm the one who agreed to break the clan laws. I shouldn't have listened to Malik, I should have known better…"

"Don't blame yourself, Miss Isis. I argued in Master Malik's favor as well."

But I hardly heard. Guilt was filling my eyes with tears again. "I just wanted to make my little brother happy," I said, defending myself to an invisible judge. "I just wanted Malik to be happy… I didn't know it would turn out this way…"

Rishid hugged me as I cried, a useless effort to comfort me. I was too regretful to be consoled.

Eventually my tears began to dry up and a new thought occurred to me. "Rishid," I said softly, "if I'm glad… that it wasn't r-really Malik—the Malik I know—who killed Father… does that mean I'm selfish?"

"No," he answered. He stoked my hair sympathetically. "You must have been terrified, Miss Isis, thinking it was Master Malik who would do that…"

I nodded, gulping back tears. "I was so scared…"

I tried to imagine what it would be like to have a different personality inside of me, one filled only with darkness. It was a frightening thought. "Does it scare Malik?" I asked quietly. "Having another personality?"

Rishid sighed. "Master Malik doesn't know. I didn't think it would ever make a difference, so I didn't want to frighten him unnecessarily."

I nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. "Are we going to tell him now?"

"Do you think we should, Miss Isis?"

"I… I don't know…" I looked at Rishid. "You know his feelings better than I do," I admitted. "What do you think we should do? Would it… would it hurt him to know?"

Rishid thought for a moment, then slowly said, "Master Malik… would blame himself. He… would only focus on the idea that he created the other personality, and so he would think it is his fault that Master Ishtar was killed."

"Then we can't tell him!" I burst out. "It's not his fault! We can't let him feel that way!"

Rishid nodded solemnly. "Yes, you're right. We will not tell Master Malik of his other personality."

"We won't," I agreed, an oath. "We'll keep Malik safe."