Satiah stood at the entrance to the throne room, watching the princes stalk into the shadows of the palace, cloaks billowing behind. They were heading toward the palace stables, she knew, where they would mount up and prepare themselves for a potentially deadly confrontation. This morbid revelation conjured within Satiah an urge to follow her husband — to ride by his side along the southern road to Ramesses' mortuary complex. It was an impulse as true to her as her own heart — to rise against the threat of evil and defend the innocent. But she knew without her ka, she would only be a burden to him, and meanwhile, threats of a different kind were still hanging over her own flesh and blood.
She turned, seeing the Pharaoh and his Guardians in heated discussion over her father's kneeling form. A moment later, the king peeled away from the group, walking through the darkness to where Satiah stood.
"The Guardians have agreed it is best if we sequester your father to his quarters until after the princes return."
Satiah gritted her teeth. "And me?"
"You are free to do as you please," he said. "However, I believe Princess Nebetah would very much appreciate your presence and support in this difficult time."
Satiah turned her gaze from side to side. To her left lay the infirmary, where Nebetah would surely be pacing with worry by her son's bedside. To her right, the princes were arming themselves for battle against a foe they knew very little about. Fists clenched, Satiah looked up at the Pharaoh. In his eyes burned the same fire she had seen in his son not long before. She knew he felt the same urge she did — to protect his kin and country from those who wished to do them harm.
A moment passed, and soon the Sacred Guardians began filing out of the throne room. Her father trailed behind them, ushered again by soldiers, albeit less viciously this time. He met her eyes as he passed, offering a subtle but distinct nod of his head.
Exhaling sharply, Satiah turned to her right and receded down the dark passageway, away from her father and the Pharaoh and the mourning princess. She circled down a winding staircase, emerging in the stables a moment later. Following the line of stalls to the end, she came upon the princes hurriedly tacking their horses with saddles. They had since been joined by a third presence — Mahad, the spellcaster Satiah had met with Mana in the gardens. He was first to notice her presence, looking at her over the withers of his horse.
Atem quickly caught sight of her as well, and his face grew tight with unease. "Go back to the palace," he ordered.
Satiah ignored him, following as he moved to grab a saddle from the wall. "I'll go with you," she said, more as a statement than a plea.
"No."
"You don't know what you're up against," she urged, "I know more about this man than any of you—" He brushed by her again, throwing the saddle across his mount. Frustrated, she grabbed his arm, causing him to tense and spin on her. Falling back a step, she took a deep breath. "Let me help you."
Atem looked over his shoulder a moment, then swept in and took Satiah by the arm, leading her into the adjacent empty stall. His eyes smoldered darkly, even in the shadows. "I need you here," he said, laying his hands on her arms. "Watch over the princess and her son. We're going to do everything we can, but I need Nebetah and the others to keep hope." He looked over his shoulder again, then dropped his voice. "And your father…"
Satiah's stomach turned. "What about him?"
He worked his jaw, and Satiah soon realized what had kept the fire alive in his eyes — he was preparing for the possibility that they would fail.
"Just… Stay. Please."
He pulled away, returning to his horse. Satiah stared at the spot where he'd last stood, feeling cold needles of fear trickling down her spine. A moment later, the squeak of leather drew her eyes back to the trio, who were mounting their steeds one by one and riding out into the open courtyard beyond. Satiah followed them all the way to the palace gate, which was thrown open on their approach.
She stood at the wall and watched until the three men disappeared beyond the rippling horizon, like mirages in the desert.
By the time they'd reached the edge of the city, Atem felt as if the hoofbeats of his steed had replaced the pumping of his heart. His brother, who was riding at the head of the line, hadn't slowed his horses' gait to less than a canter since they'd left the palace. Finally, as they reached the crest of a hill overlooking the southern road, Tefnak peeled off the path and came to a stop. Atem pulled his reins and angled his horse beside his brother's; Mahad trotted up to his other side.
The road before them wove down into a jagged lowland, then leveled out to a narrow path beside the river. Further on, nestled in the cliffs overlooking the Nile, was Ramesses' mortuary complex. It had once been a beautiful sight to behold, at least according to legend — the complex had been abandoned after an earthquake struck the area and rendered the temples too treacherous for visitors. Shimon once said that all of Egypt had mourned that day, when the monument to the country's most beloved king nearly fell into the Nile.
Atem stole a glance at his brother — the noonday sun cast deep shadows into the hollows of his face and made him look much older than he was. Atem's eyes were drawn downward when the jangle of gold reached his ears — the Millennium Ring was glowing bright, its prongs pointing stiffly in the direction of the mortuary complex. This was the Item's unique gift — to lead its bearer to the deepest desire of his heart.
Tefnak folded his hand over the Ring's prongs to silence them, then led his horse back down to the road, where he set off at a gallop again. Atem and Mahad followed close behind, guiding their steeds along the winding path into the lowland. Minutes passed like hours, knowing that with each one gone, Meriti was drawn closer and closer to death. Atem tightened his grip on his reins — no matter the motivations of this villain Bakura, it was simply unspeakable to put the life of an innocent child in danger.
As they rode, Atem couldn't help but consider the intentions behind the man's madness. When pressed, Satiah and Metjen seemed unable to provide any useful information about the man or his fixation with the Millennium Items. He'd been invited into the Memphis Conclave on the might of his ka alone, and had advised the nomarch only until the death of Metka at the hands of Tefnak. Metjen did admit, however, that Bakura had purported himself a strong believer in the uprising. This admission had only stirred the Guardians' dismay, but while they bickered over guilt and indictments, Atem had not failed to notice his new wife's reticence on the matter — it was clear she knew more than she was letting on.
Before long, they crested another hill, bringing the mortuary complex into view. The entrance was marked by two east-facing statues, one of which had lost its head over the years of neglect since the earthquake. As they passed between them, Tef pulled on his reins, slowing his horse to a trot. Atem did the same, scanning the complex — now no more than a ghost town littered with collapsed structures and crumbling obelisks.
Then, Mahad pointed toward the river. At the edge stood an immense temple, half its ceiling and walls caved in, revealing its shadowy interior. Waving from the top of one of its pylons was what appeared to be a bright red flag. But as Atem inspected it closer, he realized the fabric was wrapped around a man — white-haired and defiant, standing tall atop the half-sunken structure.
Tef must have noticed it too, as he urged his horse in the direction of the temple. Atem and Mahad followed quickly, arriving at the entrance just as Tefnak dismounted his steed. He marched up into the shadow of the pylon, arms thrown back in anger.
"Come down, coward!" he shouted. "Face the Prince of Egypt, if that is what you so desire!"
Atem and Mahad dismounted, then lashed the horses to a nearby post and came to stand beside Tef. From this distance, Atem was afforded a better view of the man atop the temple wall. From his wild white hair to his twisted grin, there was no mistaking his identity — this was indeed the duelist they had faced in Memphis some weeks ago.
Bakura threw his head back and laughed madly. "Now, now, let's not be hasty!" he called. "Come — join me in the House of a Million Years of our great king Ramesses."
Before Tef could say another word, Bakura backed away from the edge of the pylon and disappeared. The trio of them exchanged glances — Mahad looking conflicted and Tef, wrathful. Eventually, Tef turned and led the way up the temple's stairs, entering into the shadowy hypostyle hall at the top. Inside, rays of light cascaded down from holes in the ceiling, illuminating the cracked and unstable ground. Here and there, statues and effigies and even some pillars lay leaning or fully toppled. At the very back of the temple was a wall of open windows overlooking the river; in the center was positioned an impressive and somehow unbroken statue of Ramesses in his kingly regalia. Before the Pharaoh, illuminated by a column of light, stood Bakura, his back turned to the three of them.
They approached swiftly, but cautiously. Upon coming within a stone's throw of him, Bakura spun, his lips still tight with a smirk.
"What's this?" he said, his voice cutting sharply through the temple. "I asked only for one Prince of Egypt, and you bring me two? How generous."
"Silence, cur!" Tef shouted. "Give me the antidote, and perhaps I'll grant you a painless death."
Bakura chuckled. "Fine. I will give you what you seek." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small corked vial. "But you must give me something in return."
Atem tensed as Bakura's eyes dropped blatantly to Tef's Millennium Ring.
Tef took notice too — he reached up and clutched the Ring to his chest, scoffing. "You're mad if you think I'll just hand it over to you."
"Perhaps," Bakura admitted. "But if you don't, I'm afraid your poor little boy won't make it to nightfall. And his death will not be painless by any means — I can assure you of that."
Tef lurched forward, but his shoulder was caught by Mahad.
"What do you intend to do with the Item?" Mahad asked.
Bakura raised his eyebrows. "I see the princes brought their pet dog with them, as usual."
Tef tensed even further, but Mahad seemed not to even register the insult.
Bakura smirked, pocketed the vial, and turned back to face the Pharaoh's statue. "Ramesses was the greatest of kings, wouldn't you say? So strong and fair… His ascension to the throne was forged in the fires of war, when he overthrew the heretic Amenhotep and restored order to Egypt. If Amenhotep had gotten his way, the entire country would have been thrust into darkness in service of one all-powerful god… Zorac."
Atem felt his stomach turn at the name. He knew well the legends surrounding this heretical deity, who first surfaced nearly three hundred years earlier during Amenhotep's reign. Many priests and archivists believed the Pharaoh was mad, and that he had simply invented Zorac out of his twisted imagination. But during his reign, Amenhotep attempted to hold up Zorac as the one true god of Egypt — a decree which gave rise to so much strife, it nearly destroyed the whole country.
"But Ramesses stopped him," Bakura went on. "He spent his life conquering the enemies of this land and squashing traitors like flies. Unlike your ilk, who sit idly in your palace playing with the gods' magic as if it were a child's toy."
"I did not come here to debate history!" Tef interrupted. "Nor will I sit by while you slander my family's name."
Bakura sneered. "And what about my family?" he snapped. "What about those I loved?" He stopped himself, and Atem clearly saw a flicker of sorrow being consumed by the rage burning in his eyes. He lowered his head and walked to a nearby pile of rubble, where another of Ramesses' statues lay broken in half. "What does it matter?" he said calmly. "The fact is you and your kin are woefully unqualified to wield the magic you were given." He kicked a piece of rubble into the statue's eye. "Your ancestors waged war for the sake of their ideals. And yet here you are … wearing the gods' blessing around your neck like a common piece of jewelry."
"Enough!" Tef shouted. "I care not for your ridiculous fairytales. If you will not give me the vial, so be it. Let us duel for it."
Bakura clicked his tongue. "So quick to resort to violence," he said. "One could even say you resemble the Great Ramesses in that regard…" He turned back, the smirk returned to his face. "Very well. If you want violence, then you shall have it. But your baby brother and his lap dog must not interfere. I don't want a repeat of that sham of a duel that took place in Memphis."
Tefnak didn't hesitate. Nodding, he immediately turned to square off against his opponent.
Atem grabbed his shoulder. "Brother, wait—"
Tef scowled and shrugged his arm away. "You heard him — I must do this alone."
"That may be so — but what guarantee do we have that he won't destroy the vial even if he loses?"
Tefnak lowered his eyes, apparently having not considered this.
Atem stepped forward to address Bakura. "We wish to place further terms on this duel," he announced. "In order to ensure that both parties are held to account, you must each place your spoils on the statue's altar. That way, the winner of the duel claims both items."
Bakura chuckled. "It appears while your brother was gifted with the brawn of the family, you received the brains." He paused, retrieving the vial from his robe again. "As you wish, my prince. Bring forth your wager."
Tefnak and Bakura walked, almost step for step, toward the intact statue at the back of the temple. There, Tef slowly removed the Millennium Ring from his neck and hung it from Ramesses' outstretched hand. Bakura grinned and shook the vial, then placed it gently in the statue's other palm. The pair stared each other down for a moment, then turned their backs to one another and walked in separate directions, putting a respectable distance between themselves and their spoils.
While Tef still faced away, Atem came to stand before him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I have never been so sure of anything in my life," Tef confirmed.
Atem grimaced and nodded, then stepped back to join Mahad again.
After a sharp breath, Tef spun to face his opponent. Reaching up to the sky, he called upon his ka; Bakura copied him, and a moment later the chamber was swallowed with the light of magic. Appearing before Tefnak was his trusted spirit, the Tomb Guardian. The ram-headed warrior stood tall, brandishing its enormous warhammer and snorting menacingly. A moment later, Bakura's ka materialized — Diabound, Atem remembered — a great pale beast, hovering with feathered wings above a coiled snake head.
The spirits stood rigid facing one another, but not for long — Tefnak was not one for patience, and with his son's life on the line, Atem knew he would be more urgent than ever. "Go, Tomb Guardian! Punish this bastard's ka!"
The Guardian crouched and launched itself forward, coming to meet its opponent like a thunderbolt meets the ground. There, it swung its warhammer high and brought it down hard. Diabound was ready with its arms crossed above its head, which succeeded in blocking much of the force. But Atem saw the creature buckle beneath the weight of the hammer — a subtle movement, and one Tefnak was likely too distracted to notice or capitalize on. Sure enough, while the creatures grappled with one another, Diabound rallied itself and sent its snake head to strike the Guardian's middle.
Fangs bared, the snake latched itself onto Tefnak's ka, and for a moment Atem thought the Guardian was done for. But looking down, he was shocked to see the snake's fangs had failed to pierce the Guardian's battle armor. Still, Tef's ka was forced to fall back, but with this new distance between them, it was able to wind up and unleash a hellish blow to the snake head still clinging to its middle. Atem winced at the bone-crunching sound that followed, and the chamber was then swallowed with Diabound's howls of pain.
The Guardian didn't fail to press its advantage this time. Using its entire bodyweight, Tef's spirit swung its hammer upward in a wide arc, landing another blow straight into Diabound's gut. This sent the creature tumbling backward across the floor, stopped only by a pile of rubble near the back of the temple.
It was Bakura who cried out now — letting loose an animalistic growl of frustration as he turned to face his ka. "Get up, you useless creature!"
Diabound slowly pushed itself off the ground, flexing its wings to shake off dust and rocks. Tef again raised his hand to order his ka to strike, but before the Guardian could cross the arena, Diabound suddenly took flight. It streaked upward and burst through a small fissure in the ceiling, causing it to collapse into a gaping hole. Below, the Guardian was forced to recoil from the rubble that came pelting down from upon it. Bakura must have realized his ka was far outclassed in the ground fight, but putting Diabound in the sky would give him an advantage in both offense and defense.
Atem, no longer able to see Bakura's creature, scrambled sideways to find a new vantage point. The creature soon became visible through a hole in the ceiling, just in time for Atem to see Diabound charging up one of its shockwave attacks.
"Tef! Watch out!"
Tefnak ordered his ka to dodge with only seconds to spare; the Guardian took a glancing blow from the shockwave, which cut a new hole in the ceiling. When Atem looked over at his brother, he saw the distinct flicker of an idea flashing behind his eyes.
"Neat trick," Tefnak called. "But you can't hide, even in the sky." He thrust his arm out, directing his ka toward the center of the arena, where the collapse in the ceiling was the largest. There, the Guardian took its warhammer in both hands and raised it straight up above its head, then struck the pommel down into the ground with thunderous force. Green energy gathered from the spot and traveled like lightning up the hammer, streaking up into the sky to strike where Diabound hovered over the temple. The creature was consumed by the energy, which sparked violently across its body and brought forth more cries of pain. After the green glow subsided, Diabound crumpled and came hurtling back to the earth, colliding with the floor in a mass of swirling smoke.
Atem coughed and reeled away from the dust, looking up just in time to see the Guardian hurtling through the air toward the crater where Diabound had landed. The windforce sliced a clear void into the smoke, revealing a shocking sight: Diabound's snake head had somehow summoned the strength to catch the handle of the Guardian's hammer between its jaws. The pale creature trembled as it held the strike at bay, just long enough to bring its hands together and charge another shockwave attack.
Atem tensed, knowing a direct hit from this distance would be near fatal for the Tomb Guardian. But just before the creature loosed its attack, Atem was struck with a sudden realization: Diabound's hands were not angled toward the Guardian, but rather up and over the spirit's shoulder — toward the ceiling.
Atem cried out for his brother, but the gut-punching sound of Diabound's attack drowned all other noise, until the cracking of stone swallowed the chamber a split second later. Diabound's attack had struck one of the temple's few remaining hypostyle pillars, cutting through the stone like a knife through flesh. The moments that followed seemed to pass like hours: the pillar collapsed, breaking into cylindrical sections as they rained down upon Tefnak where he stood, defenseless. The last thing Atem saw was his brother's eyes turning up to the light before the temple was filled with dust and smoke.
"No!"
Atem raced to where his brother had disappeared beneath the rubble, but the ceiling continued to buckle without the support of the pillar, sending more chunks of stone careening down from on high. Atem looked up to see a colossal slab heading straight for him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, raising his arm in preparation for impact. Flickers of memories passed before his eyelids — playing with his brother in the garden as children, listening to his mother sing them to sleep on cold nights, the pride he'd felt the day Tefnak had been gifted the Millennium Ring.
A moment flashed by, and though he felt the heavy weight of his mortality, Atem knew he was not dead. He turned his head up, eyes going wide at the sight: his wife's ka, the Shieldmaiden of Sekhmet, stood tall above him, holding her shield up to protect him from the raining rubble.
The lioness spirit turned her dark eyes down to him, and Atem suddenly felt needles of reality prickle along his skin. He whipped his head over his shoulder to see both of the other ka had gone, but Bakura was now scrambling across the temple floor toward the statue of Ramesses at the back of the temple. Gritting his teeth, Atem looked back at the pile of rubble where Tefnak had stood a moment before.
"Save my brother!" he called to the Shieldmaiden. She nodded her head, then lowered her shield and dashed toward the collapsed pillar. Without a moment's hesitation, Atem set off for the statue at a full-on sprint, dodging falling debris as he went. Bakura had a head start on him, however, and Atem could see the villain reaching for the vial and the Ring. But suddenly, a flash of blackness cut across the arena, striking the floor directly in front of Bakura and knocking him backward.
Atem, still running, looked up to see the Magician of Illusion floating above, its staff sparking with dark magic. In his periphery, he saw Mahad emerging from a swirl of smoke, coughing and covered in dirt, but otherwise unharmed.
Meanwhile, Atem had nearly reached the statue, having to sidestep another falling stone as the temple continued to crumble around him. Quickly, he vaulted up onto the statue's feet and swiped the antidote and the Millennium Ring from its hands, but as he moved to jump back down to the temple floor, he found himself pulled in the other direction. Stumbling, he looked over his shoulder to see Bakura's hand latched onto the bottom of the Ring. Black eyes wild, he pulled hard, and Atem nearly dropped the antidote as he was forced to bring his other hand up to keep the Ring from slipping out of his grasp. They grappled for a moment, until a flash of violet streaked across Atem's vision — Bakura was hit with another blast of dark magic from the Magician of Illusion, forcing him to let go of the Ring. Bakura somehow managed to stay on his feet, but he was sent stumbling so far backward that he had to reach his hands out to steady himself against the windowsill and keep from falling out of the temple.
Dazed, Atem turned his head over his shoulder to see a fire raging in Mahad's eyes — never had Atem seen such wrath within him. He flicked his wrist, ordering his ka to strike once more. Without hesitation, the Magician cast another dark spell upon Bakura, sending the villain over the edge of the temple with a short, pitiful cry, followed soon after by a shallow splash.
Atem had no time to let this new reality sink in — a moment later, another limestone slab came crashing down from the ceiling, landing only feet away from him. He winced when he felt a hand wrap around his arm, turning to see Mahad pulling him toward the temple's exit. Stumbling after his friend, Atem stole one last glance behind him to see, with great relief, the Shieldmaiden was trailing behind them, carrying Tefnak across her back.
As they burst out of the temple, his eyes were blinded temporarily by the harsh evening sun. Mahad continued pulling him onward until they reached the bottom of the stairs, where both fell to their knees, coughing sharp limestone dust from their lungs. The air was still filled with the low rumble of the collapsing temple, and heaving, Atem turned back to see the Shieldmaiden jogging to a stop beside them.
She knelt down and laid Tefnak gingerly on the ground. Panicked, Atem dropped the Ring and vial, scrambling over to pull his brother's body into his lap. He looked almost like a painting, covered in dust and bloody brush strokes. His robes were drenched in so much red, Atem couldn't even tell where it was coming from.
"Tef," he wheezed, shaking his limp shoulders. "Tef, can you hear me? Say something!"
Mahad knelt by his side; anger still gripped him, but he softened as he gazed upon Tefnak. With trembling fingers, Mahad reached out and took Tef's wrist in his hand.
Even before Mahad spoke, Atem felt tears stinging into his eyes.
"He is gone."
Choking a sob, Atem leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Tef's, his hand curling into a fist on his cloak. Softly, he rocked back and forth, teeth gritted down as if that might stop the tears that fell to splash against Tef's dust-covered cheeks. He could hear himself crying out his brother's name, but it was muffled — as if it were his spirit drifting off to the Duat, not Tef's.
Atem jolted when he felt a hand fall to his shoulder. When he looked up, he was met first with the sorrowful eyes of his wife's ka. A moment later, she hung her head and disappeared like mist in the wind. Eyes clouded with tears, he turned to look at Mahad, whose gaze had since filled with urgency again.
"My prince," he hissed, "the sun is going down."
Atem whipped his head over his shoulder to see Ra's eye floating down toward the mountains to the west.
"You must make for the palace at once," Mahad urged. "Hurry. I will follow behind with the prince's body."
The words struck another dagger of pain in his heart, but it was soon overshadowed by a new fear. Atem stole one last tear-filled glance at his brother, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Carefully, he transferred his body to Mahad's arms, then stood to take up the Millennium Ring and the vial lying nearby. He hesitated only a moment before throwing the Ring around his neck and clutching tightly to the vial of antidote in his palm. Pivoting, he swept over and untied his horse before mounting it and jabbing his heels into its sides. He set off at a gallop along the road to the north, the sky hung with the dull glow of sunlight on one side, and the creeping claws of nightfall on the other.