Suddenly, the air around him grew cold. The walls of the hidden chamber of Kul Elna darkened into that of a tomb. It was familiar though.
He was back in his yami's soul room.
"Finally…" Ryou whispered to himself, as he attempted to sneak through the darkness. He prayed that his yami hadn't left his consciousness yet, and that he would be able to safely reach his own soul room first.
That, however, was not the case.
In the corner of the soul room, Ryou could see the outline of a figure.
"… Yami!" Ryou gasped under his breath, keeping completely silent. If he were lucky, perhaps the spirit of the millennium ring wouldn't see him.
Upon a second glimpse, however, it was not the spirit as Ryou knew it. It was instead the thief Bakura, trapped within the confines of the millennium item.
And once again, curiosity overrode Ryou's thoughts of escape. Instead of racing for the door, which was visible at the other end of the corridor, he walked to a corner close to his yami. The grey bricks concealed him, and he let his eyes take in everything.
The sight was a frightening one.
The king of thieves did not look much like royalty anymore. In fact, he looked like a prisoner. Ryou could only guess how long his spirit had been laying there, days, maybe even years, but he had long given up the hope of escape.
His hands were broken and stained with blood, from trying to tear through the thick wall. Clearly, he had made no progress, or he probably would have kept punching it. His hair was knotted messily, and tears lined his cheeks, sticking to the edges of the now familiar scar. His tongue timidly licked the salty drop, as though it were the only oasis in the dry tomb. It very well may have been. His body was starved, his black loincloth barely concealing protruding ribs.
Ryou gasped, no longer knowing whether Bakura was half-asleep, or merely too weak to move.
"He's… being punished…" Ryou whispered. "Just like the pharaoh wanted…"
The whisper, breaking through the silence, startled the thief. He jumped, arching his back. Ryou could hear bones creaking from atrophy.
"Is… is… is someone there?"
Ryou wanted to stay hidden, but he couldn't hide himself any more, not after seeing what had become of the thief Bakura.
He carefully stepped out from behind the corner.
"Wh..who are you? Wh… Where do you keep coming from?" he asked, his voice dry and scratchy. His tone was thick with desperation.
Ryou paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell his yami the truth – that he was the man's hikari from the future, a boy who one day put on the millennium ring and started a new war. But he decided against it.
"I… I can't… say…" he whispered, walking carefully towards his yami.
"Di..did you just get here? Can… Is there a way out?" His speech broken, a glimmer of faint hope shone through his left eye. The right one was just as dead as it had always been.
"There is…" Ryou whispered. "There is a way out…"
The thief king suddenly found a last vestige of strength.
"Where!" he demanded.
"That door." Ryou weakly pointed, afraid that he might be struck for not suggesting it sooner.
The thief squinted. All he could see was darkness pouring over the stones like a desert flood.
"Where, damn you!"
"Right there…" Ryou pointed again. "Don't you see it?"
The thief fell back into the wall again.
"You're just a dream, aren't you. My mind playing tricks on me again." He scowled. "There's no door there. I've walked all over this place. There's no door there. Or anywhere."
He looked as if he was about to cry.
"All because of the pharaoh…" he whispered, curling his broken fists tightly. The motion, however, pained him, and he quickly released them. "Never free! I'll never be free! Not in Kul Elna! Not in the dungeons! Not in the palace!"
Ryou didn't know what to say.
"The seven items, they were my only chance. And now, I have nothing left! No one, and nothing!"
Ryou timidly reached for the thief's hands, but he pulled them sharply away. Again, Ryou slinked back, afraid of being attacked. But this time, there was no energy left, even if that had been the tomb robber's intentions.
"I'm… sorry…" Ryou finally answered his yami.
"Sorry?" he scowled. "You don't know the meaning of the word! If I ever get out of here… I'll make the pharaoh pay! I'll make him pay! I'll get the seven items back from the stone, and I'll destroy him, his palace, his priests, everybody! I'll make them regret they ever heard of a village called Kul Elna!"
His body slumped against the floor, completely exhausted from such a vehement retort.
Ryou, unable to bear the sight any longer, stood up. As he made his way to the door, the man's skin started to blanch. His complexion and countenance started to change into the way Ryou remembered them best.
He stood at the door for what seemed like an eternity. His yami, the exact duplicate of himself, was draped weakly against the wall. It was as though he hadn't moved for three millennia, a mere corpse in a millennium tomb.
As those words ran through his mind, the air inside his yami's soul room grew rank, taking on the aroma of death itself. His yami, still unmoving, was oblivious to it. Indeed, he was probably the cause of it.
Violently ill, Ryou rushed out into the corridor that separated the rooms before almost collapsing. He left the metal door swinging back and forth, unable to force himself to turn around and close it.
"… Yami…" he whispered, unable to shake everything that he experienced from his mind. He seemed so… lonely…