Chapter Twenty-One

Suzuko sat on her windowsill, legs dangling out the open window. Her upturned face was bathed in silver moonlight as she regarded the night sky gravely.

As the summer wind

Paints mournful tunes

On the dusky air

As the autumn chill

Bites the river reeds

Strips the tall trees bare

As the winter frost

Turns the whole world white

Kills without a care

Know through the tears and the lashing rain

Through the whirling turns of the changing world

After the heat, the cold, the pain

The next leaf bud shall be unfurled

But if the sun fails to shine

Through the cloud's dark reign

If the moon does not return

After being slain

If the world stops turning

And falls into shadow…

When the sun dies, when the moon cries, I'll be there.

Suzuko felt trapped. Trapped in a mortal world, trapped in a spider's web, trapped by the rules that she was bound to. She did not belong among humans. She was not a human. She was out of her place, upstepping the Grand Design.

But being a human was so much more fun than being a sparrow! She had been on the other side of the fence, and she did not want to go back.

"Hello, little sparrow girl, how are you tonight?"

Suzuko squawked and almost fell off of the windowsill. "The nasty beast has a follower!" she shrieked.

"I'm her sister, kid."

Suzuko stared at Ramla suspiciously, then nodded. "Yes, I see the nasty resemblance now."

Ramla rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom. She seemed to take Suzuko's presence for granted, like she were some creeping ivy growing on the wall; it would always be there. It bothered Suzuko; she would rather be a nuisance than be insignificant.

Soon Ramla appeared from the bathroom, changed into a nightshift. "Still here, are you?" she remarked placidly, sitting on the bed.

Suzuko glared at her. "You much different from other nasty beast."

Ramla snorted. "Samira? We're different as night and day. By the way, I saw how you knocked her out earlier. That was absolutely beautiful."

Suzuko blushed with pride. "Thanks you. I also proud of banging up the head a stupid beast."

Ramla laughed out loud. "Your Arabic is atrocious. I suppose you learned just from listening to people?"

Suzuko nodded. "I do well for that kind of learner, no?"

She shrugged. "I guess so, if you think of it that way. But if you go in the streets talking like that, you're going to get laughed out of Luxor." She pulled the covers over herself. "You'd better keep it down, or I might eat you."

Suzuko stuck her tongue out. "I taste very bad."

"If you taste half as bad as you talk, then I wouldn't serve you up to my worst enemy," snorted Ramla. "If you're going to bed anytime soon, there are some blankets in the closet. You can kip on the floor." She turned over and was asleep.

When Seto walked into his room, he would be less surprised to see the queen of England than whom he found then.

"Mokuba?" he gasped, nearly jumping right into the air. "How… what… you should be on the ship! You're injured!"

Mokuba hung his head. "I'm sorry Seto, I just really wanted to come. How can you expect me to stay behind when all of this is going on?"

Seto shrugged, then glared at his brother. "You have a head injury. You were in a coma. You're supposed to be resting!"

Tears suddenly came to Mokuba's eyes. "Please don't be mad at me, Seto," he said, barely holding back the sob in his voice. "I wanted to be here… because I know that if anything… happens to you, I want it to happen to me too."

These words melted Seto's heart, like he had just swallowed a spoonful of warm soup. It was good to know that at least one person cared about him…

He muttered something about taking a shower and hightailed it to the bathroom.

Mokuba sat sadly on the bed, looking droopily at his shoes. At least Seto wasn't mad at him for coming…

But in his heart, there was a dull ache that wouldn't fade, a hollow spot, where once the old Seto, the Seto that Mokuba loved, had been.

But the old Seto was gone now. Long gone. Ever since that day at the pier… Seto had stopped calling him Mokie, had stopped smiling… Mokuba hadn't heard his brother's true laugh in six years.

And yet there was hope. Samira was here now, and with any luck, she would bring his good side back.

She stood on the mountaintop, tall and proud, straight-backed and regal. Her demeanor brought to mind the great native chiefs of old, wise beyond their years. Bright red hair hung down her back, done in the traditional over-the-ears women's hairstyle, and gathered at the bottom in the back.

Blinking, she listened carefully as the wind whispered to her across the purple evening sands. Three days, it said, brushing across her face, ruffling her hair. It carried the smell of blood.

She sat down cross-legged upon the rock, to watch and wait.

And then another shape seemed to rise up out of the cliff, just come into being like smoke curling up from a fire. This person was cloaked and hooded, sinister and mysterious.

It raised one arm, as if to beckon. A vulture's shrill cry split the night air like a wedge through a block of wood, shattering the silence. The bird flapped its great wings and alighted, hunchbacked, on the hooded one's forearm.

Stooping, the figure swathed in cloth melted back into the rock like liquid shadow, the bird leaving with it.

As the sun set, the girl became nothing more than an extension of the rock, still as stone.

Azar fought her bonds like an animal, her mouth open in a scream that no one could hear.

"Stop your whining, mortal," snarled the voice. It stabbed at her like a thousand daggers. "No one is here to save you."

"I- don't- need- saving-" she replied savagely, but at the same time was wildly afraid. The words were leaving her… her past was disintegrating into nothing, evaporating like the little pools of water in rock after a short rain. It was a small battle just to get each word out.

The voice laughed mirthlessly, a harsh, raking sound that tore at her. Azar writhed in pain as the voice shouted, "Fool! So independent, are we? That will change. Already you are forgetting who you are. Soon your memories shall disappear, and you shall be nothing but an empty shell, void of humanity. Just a puppet for me to use.

The words stung, and they made Azar's blood boil. "No!" she screamed. "You will never control me!"

"That's what you think," said the voice, and she could perceive, somewhere far off, yet close by, smiling most poisonously. "I have great plans for you, darling. Two of your tribe's mages have willingly done my bidding. Your village is in ruins. Your people are turned to the dark side. And you shall carry out the most gleeful deed of all."

Azar bared her teeth; fighting back a wave of worry, worry for her friends and family. "And what might that be?"

"You shall slay the pharaoh, Azar. Your name means fire, but its true definition is Peril. You shall bring peril to the world, wreak havoc on those who you once loved."

"No! Never!" Furious beyond words, she lashed out, screaming a war cry.

Red-hot pain burst into flame as an iron fist connected with her skull. "You shall not defy me!"

The words were so loud, she felt as if her head were cracking open. Subdued, she sank down… falling, falling… falling into nothingness… falling into oblivion…

Falling into defeat.