Disclaimer: I still don't own Yugioh.

My notes: I'm going to have to start naming people from Ancient Egypt. I can't keep referring to people by their title and position. Yet at the same time I don't want to accept the 'accepted' names of Yami, Atem, or even Seth. But I think I'm going to have to use the term Yami soon. Honestly when I started this story, I didn't expect this kind of event to happen. But that's part of the fun of writing isn't it? In other news, I'll probably start working on a personal project of mine so this story might not be updated as often as it should. Not that I don't mind working on it, but I've got to be able to produce original works in time. Your reviews have encouraged me so much. I'd like to thank all of you who's bothered to read this little story. And is anyone excited to see 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'? They're amusing children's books and I'm curious as to how they'll transform three books of the series into one movie-length film. If I were still a teen, I'd so have a crush on the girl who plays Violet Baudelaire. Anyways on to the story.

The Paradox

"My Pharaoh," the High Priest began, "the threat we face is far greater than we can possibly imagine." He took a mouthful of the warm broth, feeling its heat pass into his body, as he still laid in bed. "To understand it completely, you're going to have to take a leap of the imagination." He waited for the Pharaoh's acknowledgement before continuing. "Your reign as Pharaoh will not be for very long."

The Pharaoh's eyes widened. "I will be killed…?"

"No. If only it were that simple." The High Priest failed to notice the resentful look the Pharaoh gave him. "No, what you will suffer will be far worse." He pointed at the inverted pyramid around the Pharaoh's neck. "You will be sealed in there for five thousand years."

The Pharaoh looked at the clergyman like he had grown a third arm. "You're not serious, are you?"

An audible sigh was heard coming from the High Priest. This is not going to be easy. "My liege, as my body lay comatose in bed, my spirit left it taking me into the darkness. I was terrified at the time and I thought I would come into the house of Osiris and serve in the land beyond the sun. I was wrong." He fumbled around with the bowl of soup before continuing.

"I found another person there, looking as lost and confused as I was. But what I saw was something I did not expect." His voice was growing fainter. "I saw my own face." He closed his eyes remembering how they had looked at each other, not knowing, yet accepting each other.

"My own face, my own body, my own expressions. Everything was the same except for the clothing. I thought it was my double, and that I really had died and for reasons unknown I could not find my way to Osiris. But all that changed with the light, the beautiful light."

"The light?" the Pharaoh asked.

The High Priest nodded. "The light of understanding. It shattered the darkness and illuminated the surroundings. I was not in the otherworld, but in the Hall of Records. And there sat the god Thoth." All around were scrolls and servants, papyrus and brushes, everything that would be needed to record history. To know everything. I must create a place like that. The cleric became lost in thought.

The Pharaoh's voice broke him out of his mental revelry. "Go on."

The High Priest chided himself. I am in the presence of the Pharaoh. I cannot afford to lose myself before him. "The god explained that he had summoned two similar souls for a very important reason. We were to carry out his will and orders. For there was a problem."

The crane-headed god had sat high upon a dais, as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. He had looked at the High Priest so lovingly, as if Thoth knew that he had summoned a true disciple. But when he had looked at the other soul, it was hard to tell what emotion went through the god's mind.

"According to Thoth, the Hall of Records was precisely that, an archive of every action that occurs on Earth. All of the history that does occur, or will occur, is recorded and stored," the High Priest continued.

"But how does this involve me?" The tenor of the Pharaoh showed his impatience.

"Thoth said that there was an emptiness, a void of information that begins here and stretches for five thousand years. It was as if all of that history had been removed."

"An emptiness?"

"Thoth compared it to the back of one's head. You can turn your head back to look behind you," the High Priest said as he demonstrated, "But if you're facing only one direction for so long, you only believe what's in front of you. You forget what's behind you and thus when you do remember to turn around, you're surprised when there's nothing there when there should be."

The Pharaoh was obviously unimpressed. "That seems a little far-fetched."

"The gods speak in riddles, my liege," the High Priest reassured. "It gets worse, however. Apparently this emptiness all happens when an unnamed Pharaoh does not properly become one with Osiris. With the missing link in the trinity a loophole is established. The demons run loose, the dead do not normally die, and the gods do not receive proper worship. This cycles unnaturally, repeating itself, until the gods themselves are killed and the entire world is engulfed in darkness."

"How does Thoth know this?"

This Pharaoh dare questions the gods? "From his perspective, it has already happened and the gods have lost. From our perspective, it has yet to begin and can still change it."

"And you think the unnamed Pharaoh could be me?"

"It was a natural conclusion to make."

"This seems a bit hard to believe."

"It is. It was hard for my other self to believe as well." No, my counterpart did not believe a word of it. How he ranted and raved. The image of his counterpart throwing a fit in such a place, though on the one hand amusing, on the other very immature. He only stopped only until Thoth showed him something that even I could not see. Perhaps it was for him alone.

The Pharaoh scratched his head. "Wait. How can we fight our destiny? If what you're telling me is true then the events of the future…"

"Things written in stone can crumble when enough effort is made. The future is whatever we make of it." The clergyman again took a drink from his broth.

"And if we create that dark future?"

"Then we tried our best." The High Priest heard the frustrated sigh that came from the Pharaoh.

"And if we change the future?"

"Then I don't know what happens." He tried to think of some comfort for him, concerned that the Pharaoh might feel over-pressured. "Don't think we are alone in this. The gods still watch over Egypt and we do have our future selves, the ones born five thousand years from now." If what I believe is true, then those visions I've had are memories I will come to possess. And if those are true…

The Pharaoh had risen from his chair and was about to leave. One could easily see that he had a completely skeptical, incredulous, look on his face, and seemed only to be humoring his ill advisor.

"There is one more thing to add, Pharaoh."

He stopped at the doorway. "And that is?" he asked, irritated.

"We are destined to fight," the High Priest said completely deadpan.

The Pharaoh turned around, his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"We will be forced to take arms against one another."

"You seem pretty calm about it." The Pharaoh crossed his arms.

"I admit, I am not overly fond of you and how you are ruling the kingdom. But I would never openly rebel against my Pharaoh unless I have a good reason to."

This was obviously a shock to the Pharaoh from the expression on his face. "Do you?" the Pharaoh asked as he again took his seat next to the bed.

"No, not at the moment. One may come up. It doesn't matter." The High Priest stared directly into the Pharaoh's eyes. "But know this: I will show you no mercy. I expect the same courtesy from you as well, Pharaoh."

"What?" the Pharaoh blinked in disbelief. "But this is madness. To even consider it…"

"If you are not able to strike down the enemy, no matter who it is, that might be the event which triggers this entire mess. I might be possessed, or coerced, or even acting on my own free will." The High Priest grabbed the Pharaoh's tunic, drawing him close. "But whatever happens, you must give it your all. Failure to do so may put the entire world into jeopardy."

The Pharaoh stared back, his face a mixture of emotions. "I see."

The High Priest let go. "We will need to create a rift between us. You must learn to become more independent and I must be able to gain more access to the kingdom's resources. I will personally inform you when I will revolt. This ploy will hopefully draw our mutual enemies out into the open and allow us to deal with them accordingly."

"Do you think it will work?"

The High Priest stared down at his empty bowl. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."

Later,

When the sun had set and all was quiet, the High Priest was busily exiting his guest quarters. He had regained much of his strength back and he had had enough sleep. Although a guard was posted at his door, he had convinced the solider to allow him to go unescorted, innocently pointing to the Millennium Rod tucked in his belt. The palace gates would not be opened nor did the High Priest expect to leave the sanctity of the grounds.

He did, however, wished to go somewhere rather unexpected. He made his way, by torch light, to the palace kitchens. The cleric made sure he wasn't seen by any of the stirring servants as he made his way to the Scribes' quarters. He was still hoping that his best pupil was still up. He checked the each of the doors quietly before he found the one he wanted.

The room was bare save for a bed and a desk and candle. A young scribe was busy with his brush and scroll, copying something down. The High Priest quietly tapped the boy on his shoulder. "Master!" the young boy called out before his mouth was muffled by the High Priest. The High Priest motioned for silence before releasing his hand from the boy's mouth. He then, in a lovingly fashion, patted the boy's head. My pupil really must get his hair shortened considerably, he remarked to himself.

"Studying hard?" he asked as he set his torch upon the wall. The boy nodded. "Good. Are my things still packed and ready?" At this the boy shook his head. "That's something I'll have to do this evening. We will be leaving shortly after Ra's chariot appears on the horizon. You better get some sleep."

"But they've said you've taken ill!" the boy blurted, forgetting the High Priest's need for silence. "You've been in bed for days."

"Obviously I'm better now. I have a task to accomplish for the Pharaoh." The High Priest was mentally preparing a list of things to do to leave the palace without too much fanfare.

"She was worried about you," the young scribe said quietly.

This interrupted the cleric's train of thought. "What?"

"The slave girl. She wanted to see you but there were guards keeping watch over you."

The High Priest pondered this for a moment. "I'll have to see her tonight then." I've got to make matters clear, one way or another. He shook his head, wishing to ignore the upcoming predicament. "You should go to bed," he said changing the subject. He blew out the candle and waited until his young protégé climbed into bed. He took the torch and stood by the door.

"Don't upset her too much," the boy pleaded. "She cares for you, as much as I do."

"I know." He stepped outside. "Good night for now, brother," the High Priest said as he shut the door.