Chapter 7-Lonely
"Okay, how the hell do we do this?" Malik clutched the Rod tightly as he spoke, each word feeling as if it were prying him apart a little bit more. He hadn't wanted to help his yami. In fact he still didn't, but that memory of Bakura's just wouldn't leave him alone. The Egyptian tried to think of other things, thoughts of sunrises, dueling, anything but the hollowness of Mariku's gaze which was no longer quite so empty. It didn't work. Malik's guilt had taken control. 'Bakura could have fabricated those images. I wouldn't put it past him.' But the look on the Thief King's face had been as truthful and sincere as the blonde had ever seen it. There was no lie behind those hellish eyes, no sign of wicked intentions or deceit.
"Come here." Bakura ignored everyone but Malik. This was his last chance. By some unfathomable twist of Fate the Egyptian had agreed, but the spirit knew that his resolution would quickly fade should anything go wrong. 'Hell, even I don't know exactly what I'm doing.'
/Just do what feels right./ Ryou smiled reassuringly at his yami, unaware that he'd practically read his thoughts. He had faith in Bakura. For once the tombrobber was doing something worthwhile, and to the teen this meant he was already halfway there.
Bakura glanced briefly at his hikari before refocusing on Malik. The blonde had approached the bed by now, and was waiting haughtily.
"Are you going to get up, or can I stop wasting my time?"
With a feral growl the Thief forced his aching body off the mattress. He slipped the Ring over his head and concentrated his energy. The Item erupted with a burst of golden light. "Do the same."
Malik nodded and focused on the Rod. In moments it too was aflame with radiance. He jerked away sharply as Bakura grabbed him by the shoulders, but the Thief didn't let go. The Egyptian could hear his sister crying out to him, could feel everyone staring wide-eyed, but he could sense something else now. Darkness like that which could only be found in the most dismal corners of the Shadow Realm. Through this desolation ran a road, a road created by the joint power of the Sennen Items. The Rod had found it, and the Ring lit the way like a compass. Malik felt a burning sensation in his chest as he left the mortal world and stepped out onto this ribbon of Light.
"What are you waiting for?" Pushing past the dumbstruck hikari, Bakura began to follow the path. The road continued to materalize under his feet as he moved on. Malik followed quickly behind, unwilling to be left alone. An unearthly quiet overwelmed them as they walked. When one of them did speak from time to time it sounded unnatural, forced. Human speech was blasphemy in such Darkness, and, realizing this, they kept mostly silent.
Malik noticed that with each step he took the Rod's aura grew stronger. It was as if the Item had recognized it's former wielder, and judging by the intensity with which it shone, the blonde guessed they were getting very close.
Just a few paces ahead, Bakura stopped short. The Priestess' Hall had suddenly emerged from the Darkness. It wasn't an actual walkway so much as a labyrinth, shadow-flecked corridors and infinitely tall walls forming something that was almost a maze.
"That's it?" Malik approached the hallway before them with caution. It was strange, like something from a half-remembered dream. The stones were at once both solid and miasmatic, reminding him of dry iceand frozen smoke. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Then you should count yourself lucky. Let's go." Following the points of his Sennen Item the Thief plunged onward. Malik lingered for just a moment, taking in all the horror and majesty of his yami's prison, before he too disappeared into the mist.
It was cold, breathlessly, numbingly cold, so cold it seemed to leech the light from his very soul. The Egyptian felt the hairs on his neck prickle as a phantom breeze ghosted across his spine. He looked to Bakura, but the Thief seemed unaffected. He just stood there, waiting impatiently for Malik to get himself together. Finally the teen moved onward. Creepy as this place was he knew he had to keep going. It wasn't just about his pathetic guilty conscious. He felt that in some way leaving Marik in the Shadow Realm was like burying unfinished business. Until he either severed all ties with or completely wiped out his yami, the boy would never find true peace.
They followed the road through the mist for what seemed like hours. Only on occasion would the strip of lightturn and twist down another spectral corridor, the Ring's points tinkling softly as they changed postion. Presently they came across the first of the doors. Great, wooden structures, they stood out like sore thumbs against the surrounding walls. They seemed to stretch upwards forever, so high that no matter how far back he craned his neck, Malik couldn't glimpse the end of them.
"Where do those lead?"
Bakura scratched the uninjured side of his face and sneered. "It's how She moves through the walls. I figured it out not long after coming here. Some are just plain doors, but the ones with runes on them are enchanted to be accessible from only one side. If you walked through one of those doors and turned around, there'd be nothing but stone." The Thief turned his gaze back to the path the Sennen Items had put out, searching for any hint that it might veer off towards one of these doors. His body hurt like hell, but Bakura thanked Ra he still had strength enough to carry on. Modern medication was something the spirit was beginning to admire more with each passing day.
"Do you hear that?"
The Thief growled. He'd had about enough of Malik's bullshit. "There's nothing to hear. This is the fucking Shadow Realm!"
"No, I'm serious!" Grabbing his arm, the Egyptian forced Bakura to halt. "Just listen. It's like..."
"SHHHH!" Bakura could hear it now, something between panting and muffled sobs. It was nearly indetectable in the stillness of the Shadow Realm. Like the sillouette of a whisper the cries seemed to fade in and out. One minute the Thief could hear them fine, the next he was left searching the silence. 'Mariku...' Bakura began to run, the light struggling to keep ahead as he plunged through the darkness. He ignored Malik's calls. All the spirit could hear was his own ragged breathing, but he knew he was getting closer. He just had to follow the path.
Trying to keep up with Bakura was like trying to outrun your shadow. Malik was sprinting full speed, and still the Thief was already out of his sight. He was only greatful that the Ring's walkway had remained. What he would have done if it had disappeared the boy didn't know. Preoccupied with his thoughts, Malik didn't see the door until he was about ten feet away. He skidded to a stop, coming up short with just inches to spare. Studying the structure carefully, he realized that this door was different from the others. It was made of iron, not wood, and several hieroglyphs had been etched where the doorknob should have been. 'This is it?' The Sennen Rod flickered for a moment before dimming back down. Malik swallowed dryly. There was no going back. With an unsteady hand, he pressed his palm up against the ancient runes.
Moving through the door, the cold faded, and the Egyptian was confonted with a sudden blast of heat. It wasn't the pleasant kind either. It was dense and acrid, filling his nose and stinging his eyes. Malik was all too glad when he finally passed through the Priestess' portal. Looking around the blonde felt suddenly queasy. It was exactly like his dream, the torchlit hall. No longer shadowed, but appearing fully solid, the illuminated walls stretched on to the Ceremonial Chamber. Like before he could hear his yami screaming, and like before he had an incredible sense of foreboding. However this time Malik had a choice. It wasn't like his nightmare where he was forced to move on. If he wanted, the boy could go back. He could abandon the two spirits and follow the road of light back home. It would be easy, but still Malik moved forward. He didn't know why anymore, couldn't even comprehend the gravity of what he was doing. The funny thing was that he wasn't really scared any more. He knew how to do this. He just wasn't exactly sure why.
A particularly loud shriek caused Malik to pick up the pace. He ran at a dead sprint. That hadn't sounded like his yami. It had been Bakura. Whatever waited for him in the Chamber, it had already dealt with the Thief King. The Egyptian gasped in horror as he finally reached his destination.
Mariku was bound naked and in such a way that his legs actually straddled the roughly hewn carving stone. He wasn't shackled by the feet this time. Instead the Darkness had been propped upright, arms suspended above his head by rusted chains. The spirit hung like a piece of meat, not even having the strength to hold up his head. Malik also saw that every bit of Marik's body had been violated. Blood pooled between his thighs. Cuts and sores littered his sweat-drenched flesh. Even the yami's wrists had been horribly mangled by chains.
"Don't bother calling out to him. He's been unconscious for quite some time."
Whipping around Malik stared in horror at the familiar figure standing before him. The elder Ishtar loomed near the Tablet, smirking in satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork. He noticed something at the elder Ishatar's feet and realized it was Bakura. The Thief cowered in the dirt, trying feebly to stem the flow of blood streaming from his face.
"F-Father?" Malik took a small step towards the man but stopped, unexplainably fearful.
"Come Malik. Do not let these unworthy souls phase you. You are my son. Your loyalty lies with me!" These last words were uttered with such forcefulness that the Egyptian fumbled backwards. Something wasn't right. His father's eyes were hidden by a hood, and the boy had a sudden, maddening urge to look into them.
"I...please tell me what's going on! I don't understand!"
The man smiled and moved towards his son. "All in good time, Malik. Before that we have things to take care of." A gentle hand fell upon the teen' shoulder, and he wanted ...needed... so desperately to believe this was his father. He wanted to be held and comforted like a child, to be soothed of all his pains. Malik's hate had destroyed the elder Ishtar, but not for an instant did this mean he didn't love his father. Slowly the Egyptian let himself be pulled into the other's arms.
"...Mal...ik...you idiot...stop..."
But he wasn't listening to Bakura. In fact Malik couldn't hear anything at all as he emersed himself in the long sought warmth of his father's embrace. The boy buried his face deeper into the man's robes, hoping to feel the pattering of his heart. Strange, he couldn't seem to find the heartbeat. There was only silence, smooth and dark and menacing. Perhaps he'd felt in the wrong place. Hand trembling slightly, Malik traced his fingers lightly across the elder Ishtar's chest. Nothing. With a confused grunt the teen pulled away. His hands and clothing were covered with blood.
"Wh-what is this?" Malik's eyes grew unimaginably wide as he stared at the crimson liquid clinging to his body. "Who...where did it come from?"
The man leapt forward with an enraged hiss, red eyes flashing. 'Red?' He grabbed his son by the hair and dragged him towards the stone on which Mariku was bound. "This," he rasped, "Is how we punish those...who defy the Gods!" Malik screamed as he was lifted off the ground and thrown by the hair onto the carving stone. He flew into Marik, causing his yami to stir and the coroded chains to jangle. The blonde stared in horror at his other half. Up close the Darkness' injuries were even more evident. Mariku looked like a corpse.
The boy's red-eyed father continued to advance. He seemed to grow larger with his rage until he towered above much like the spectral Tablet. His voice could be described as nothing less than heinous. "I avengedour family! Rightedyour mistakes! And still you have the audacity to question me? YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN THE MONSTER THAT YOU SPAWNED!"
"No!" Malik sobbed. And to think that he'd finally hoped of earning his father's forgiveness! To think that he'd even ventured to believe that maybe he'd finally redeemed himself! "Please, I'm sorry!"
"Filth! Unworthy vessal! How dare you beg pardon from me? If anything you should be pleading with the Gods to save your soul!"
The boy let out a grief-torn moan and wrenched his gaze from that of his father. He couldn't bare to look into those eyes any longer. Instead Malik found himself looking at Mariku. His yami had begun to groan, mouth twisted in a painful grimace. The hikari ignored the fast approaching shadow of his father and brushed a hand timidly across his other's cheek. This caused Marik's eyes to flutter slightly but nothing more. The Egyptian continued to stroke the Darkness' face, hoping that this could pull him from his weary sleep. Finally, Mariku's lids cracked open once more, and Malik found himself staring into a pair of twin amethyst orbs. For the instant that his darker half's mind remained logged with sleep, his eyes seemed almost soft, like iris petals or the sky just as twilight fades to black. Then, in a rush, everything that was Yami Malik returned. His hatred, his pain, and his madness all rolled in on the waves of memory until the hikari recognized those same cold eyes belonging to the monster he'd known at Battle City. Yet something was still different. Something dwelt in Mariku's gaze that wasn't there before.
"Are you finished?"
Malik whirled around just in time for the elder Ishtar's fist to connect with the side of his head. He fell heavily into his yami's chest. The Darkness in turn stared wide eyed at his light, oblivious to the creature who had dealt that blow. For the first time since Bakura left Mariku felt warm, the hikari's bodyheat causing his own icy flesh to tingle happily. Malik even smelled good. The boy's hair had a sort of fresh, breezy scent to it that made him sure he himself must reek something terrible.
"Did I say you were allowed to touch him?"
Marik bit back a whimper as a calloused hand dragged him backwards by the scruff of the neck. The shackles wound about his wrists rattled merrily at this sudden movement and dug deeper into his flesh, causing fresh blood dribbled from his wounds. The Darkness entertained the thought of begging but quickly discarded it a useless. The Priestess would never stop. Instead he allowed his head to drop and tried to ignore the sticky hotness, not near as pleasant as Malik's bodyheat, that had begun to run down his arms and into his face and hair.
"Get the hell away!" Bakura had finally managed to regain control of his limbs. Propelling himself forward, the Thief leapt at the man's back. The elder Ishtar was taken by suprise and reeled sideways, twisting and cursing as he tried to throw him off. Still the spirit held on. He tore feverishly at the monster's face and neck, ignoring the blood flying about from his reopened wounds. Malik watched, stupified as his father's face began to crumble. In its place appeared a void, a void so complete and dark that there was no doubt in the teen's mind that it was meant to resemble the lowest pit of hell. No, this was not his father. It was a demon from another world.
"DAMN YOU THIEF!" The elder Ishtar's voice had also faded, leaving behind something that would have been female if not for the horrid metalic wail that came with it. "PATHETIC BOY! I WILL DESTROY YOUR SOUL!" With a violent heave, the thing that was no longer his father managed to break Bakura's grip. The tombrobber cried out in agony as his body was dashed against the Pharaoh's Tablet.
"Malik!" The Thief's voice was harsh and desperate. "Grab him and get thefuck out of here!"
The blonde just looked at his barely conscious yami dumbly and shook his head. "What do you want me to do? Magically untie him and drag him back to Ryou's house?"
"IDIOT! Use the Rod!"
It was as if a gunshot had gone off in Malik's head. Slinging one arm over Mariku's shoulders, he once more focused his entire being on the Item's shadow powers. As before the Sennen Rod began to glow brightly. Just a few seconds longer and he'd be back in the world of light, safe and with people he loved.
But the Priestess had other plans. Once more She turned to Malik, and once more She wore the face of his long dead father.
"Wait! My son!"
The Egyptian felt his heart skitter out of control. There was no way this was an imposter. His voice, his wiry frame. This had to be his father. The Rod's aura began to flicker as Malik lost concentration and began to rise. How could he be so stupid? How could he trust a revenge-crazed Thief and complete psycopath over his own flesh and blood?
"F-f..."
"He isn't...that's not...his eyes...look at his eyes..."
They were red, horribly, brutally, scarringly red. Like blood, like rust, like everything vile and decaying. Every bit of Mariku's garbled words proved true. They were not the eyes of any mortal man. They were those of a creature who dwelt in the dark, who feasted upon the horrible memories of humanity. A manifestation of all the sorrow and pain and hatred that poured not only from the Shadows, but the physical realm as well. In a way She was like his own yami, born into Darkness, but unlike Marik this thing was a quagmire of the remains of many thousands of souls rather than only one. Whatever hope there might have been forher salvation had been laid to rest many years ago.
For a long minute Malik stared past the face of his father into the beast that lay beneath, then he shook his head sadly and in a flash of golden light was gone. There was no hope left. Still, before he left he could have sworn he heard the Priestess let out what might have been a despairing sob.
'We fear that which we do not understand. We hate that which we can never become. These truths alone will make a monster out of any man.' Suddenly everything in Malik's life seemed a little bit clearer.
-TOT