Potential
By RWThunder
Chapter Four – Before The Dawn
"Open your eyes, Kaiba." Isis' voice sounded inside of his head. He did as he was told, gasping when he found himself standing in a grand chamber of shining alabaster columns and a smooth marble floor. Although his being and consciousness was utterly vaporous, he felt himself gaping.
Suddenly, the young CEO felt a tingling in his mind and instantly knew where they were.
"This is the temple." Somehow he was aware that no sound was produced by this statement, yet he was sure Isis could hear him.
The room shifted—sometimes according to his will, sometimes carrying him weightlessly to another location, ensuring that he would see everything that Isis intended. Several moments passed and Seto began to get used to the odd floating feeling and the knowledge that he could be taken anywhere at any time—according to the path of memory. With the time that he had, the oldest Kaiba wandered the familiar temple.
By the gray light filtering through the gauzy curtains, the duelist concluded that it was dawn. His vision panned upward and he was met with the stoic faces of a hundred statues decorated with a faint glow by the sun's weak luminescence.
"Those are the Egyptian gods." Isis said, a touch of pride in her voice. Gazing at each regal face in turn, Seto found to his surprise that he knew them all by name.
The two ghostly visitors moved together quickly through the walls into another part of the temple—it's walls covered in racks of incense.
"Look, Kaiba," The priestess said. He examined the room and spotted six figures kneeling in prayer at the far end of the chamber. As they drew closer, Seto observed that they were all young teenagers garbed in white.
Then the boy closest to them suddenly raised his head, cracking his neck experimentally and letting out a long sigh.
"Holy shit…" Crystal-blue eyes that Seto saw everyday in the mirror stared back at him and sleek black hair framed a face whose bone structure might as well have been identical to his own.
"That is Seth, age fourteen. You are looking at the root of your soul, Kaiba," Isis said coolly. It was far easier to believe; aside from the skin color and other slight differences characteristic of one's nationality, Seth looked exactly like him. He was younger, of course, but Seto remembered being that age.
The CEO scanned the other faces carefully, identifying a few as a pre-adolescent Isis, Shadi—with a full head of charcoal hair, and a young boy who strongly resembled the Dark Magician. The other two boys he did not know.
"Where are their parents?" Seto asked suddenly.
"They have none." The priestess replied. "These children were chosen at birth to be trained as the new generation of council members—advisors and protectors of the pharaoh." The brunette gazed at their innocent faces, many frowning with the intensity of their thoughts.
"Are the current council members dying?" He asked.
"No. Every new pharaoh receives a fresh set of advisors, however, and the infants for the new regime are chosen as soon as the heir is born. Yami, or, Atemu as he is called now was born fourteen years ago—Seth and the other five were chosen that very day. Since then, they have been receiving schooling, training, and discipline all so that they will be ready when the prince takes the throne." It didn't sound like a very good deal to Seto.
"But they have no choice—they have to become council members whether they like it or not, right?" He gazed at Seth, feeling a strange sense of self-pity as he pondered his look-alike's predicament.
"They do not complain. It is a great honor to be chosen. I was the first female and received the worst treatment—but it was impossible to decline." Isis replied.
--
Suddenly, the temple disappeared to be replaced by a dimly lit hallway. Seto saw himself, saw Seth near an open door leading into a large chamber filled with torchlight.
Inside he saw a woman lying strewn across a large bed covered in silks. To his shock, her face and overall appearance resembled that of Mai Valentine. Her eyes were that same violet—only her skin was darker and her hair was crimson with heavy golden highlights. She was drenched in sweat and her eyes were red.
"That is the queen." Isis said, obviously still impressed by the royal. Seto couldn't blame her—the entire room with it's gilded furnishings and ornate drapery was extremely intimidating. And, even in her disheveled state, the queen's countenance was one that commanded respect.
Beside the young empress, an older man—slightly obscured by shadow—sat clutching one of her hands in his and repeatedly kissing the fingers. He was whispering to her, but Seto couldn't hear what he was saying.
Suddenly, a soft whimper escaped the lips of the woman and tears shown in her eyes. A few tense moments passed before an aching sob wracked her body and she hid her face in her hands, cringing when the man attempted to console her.
"What…what happened to her?" Seto asked, humbled by her powerful display of emotion.
"She was pregnant—the infant died after birth." Isis answered. The CEO shuddered. The queen rolled onto her side and curled herself into a fetal position, shaking with the force of her anguished cries as the tears spilled down her cheeks. Her comforter stroked her back gently.
"And the man?"
"That is her husband." The priestess said, her voice quavering slightly.
"You mean…"
"Yes. He is the pharaoh."
Seth looked on placidly for a few more moments before slinking away down the corridor, frowning to himself. Seto tried to follow, but the scene was changing again.
--
"So Yami—er, Atemu is the heir to the throne and the pharaoh's only child?" The CEO asked when a garden materialized around them.
"Yes. He is the pride and joy of Egypt. Many spoke of the fact that although he was born male, a necessity for kingship, he also inherited his mother's beauty. He too has been enduring a strenuous education since childhood—preparing for the day when his father passes on and he must assume leadership of the country." Isis said calmly.
"And he's the same age as Seth?"
"Yes. They were born on the same day only Atemu is a few hours older." Seto saw the six figures—once again sitting quietly and motionless. As he watched, however, Seth opened one eye and after seeing that the others were deep in prayer, stood up without a sound.
The young priest-in-training crept his way through the lavish foliage to a side entrance of the palace, ignoring the presence of the guards at either side and strolling past them.
"They didn't stop him?" Seto asked, puzzled.
"Of course not. Seth and the other five are the cement that will hold the kingdom together when Atemu is pharaoh, everyone knows who they are. Already their names are legend." The priestess replied.
The CEO's gaze followed Seth through the sunny hallways of the palace, past columns covered in hieroglyphics and throngs of servants bearing food and drink.
Seth stopped at last at what seemed like the other end of the palace. He paused to remove his white tunic in front of the curtains separating him from the outdoors and wrapped it instead around his waist.
The young priest-to-be walked through the white partitions into a vast courtyard decorated by tall obelisks. He had just begun to stretch on the ground when the sound of steel clashing against steel seemed to draw his attention.
Silently, fearfully, almost, Seth crept toward the sound. Finally he found himself peering out from behind a large statue of Sorbek.
Seto saw that two men were fighting each other—one old and the other much younger.
"Take a close look, Kaiba," Isis said abruptly and he moved closer.
Sweat shown on tan skin that rippled with promising muscles as the younger man swung his weapon. Gold bracelets bedecked both upper and lower arms and some hung around his ankles, jingling faintly as he moved. More gold jewelry decorated the youth's slender neck, complementing the blonde locks of his black hair, which bore a fringe of crimson.
Familiar angular eyes narrowed as he parried his assailants scimitar, tapping his own blade against that of his foe and moving its point to the man's neck in the split second he had obtained.
All motion ceased as the larger fighter felt the steel bite his skin. He then lowered his weapon with a shaky hand.
The victor smiled roguishly and dragged the blade up his throat, forcing the man to stretch his neck. The tip of the sword reached his chin and with one graceful motion, the youth flicked his weapon aside and took a few steps back.
"Next." There was no mistaking that captivating aristocratic voice—nor the slim build and regal posture of the youth.
"Yami." Seto breathed.
"Prince Atemu." Isis said immediately. "One in the same, and yet completely different." The brunette was silent, focusing instead on what he supposed was Yami's true appearance.
Seto noticed Atemu was, probably because of his age, slightly different in appearance from the spirit. His eyes were not so shadowed as those of his rival—a couple shades lighter. His mouth, too, wore a smirk that was cockier than that practiced look of elegant denigration that Yami had mastered so beautifully.
Still, Atemu possessed Yami's grace and humbling air of refinement even at the age of fourteen. He swung his scimitar around his head experimentally as another man standing across the way took up his sword and stepped onto the grassy arena.
Seth, as Seto noticed, was looking on in unabashed awe. His Egyptian double was following the prince's every move, apparently just as enchanted by his poise and comportment as the CEO was.
With a warning shout, the second combatant flung himself upon the young prince, his sword whistling through the air just next to Atemu's head. No sooner had he stayed his arm, however, when he found the pharaoh's son had already evaded him and was bringing down his own weapon.
The other man whirled and blocked the attack sloppily, rebounding immediately however and leaping at the smaller male with his sword slicing the empty space on its way to the prince.
Once again, Atemu anticipated this and ducked gracefully, putting a balancing foot behind him and making a bold jab at the larger man's chest. This strike, too, was blocked roughly and his opponent raised his sword above his head in preparation for what would surely be a fatal hit.
As he began the downward cut, however, Yami brought his own blade up perpendicular to that of his assailant to block it. The instant steel touched steel, the prince pivoted on his left foot and dealt a bone-shattering kick to the older male's hand, sending his sword flying.
Before any of the onlookers had time to react, Atemu had danced around his combatant and caught the scimitar in his other hand. Just as the larger of the two turned to see where his weapon had fallen, he was met with both blades which were brandished proudly by the heir to the throne of Egypt.
"Yield." Atemu commanded, his crimson eyes daring another man to lift his sword against him.
"You remind me of your father, my love." At the sound of that authoritative feminine voice, all save for the prince instantly dropped to their knees.
"Mother," Atemu greeted, bowing his head respectfully. As the queen approached, Seto was struck by how similar they looked. Both lean and slender, striking features and hair of similar color and thickness. He glanced at Seth, who seemed overwhelmed by the prince's performance as well as the fact that he was looking at the future pharaoh and current queen.
"Does Yami still know how to fight like that?" The brunette asked off-handedly, grudgingly admitting to himself that he was, indeed, truly impressed.
"Most likely." Isis replied. "He is probably out of practice, however. And besides, the pharaoh has other means of defending himself." Seto was going to ask what she meant but the courtyard was disintegrating, removing the arresting prince from view.
--
"Touched" by VAST