Atem kept his head turned up to the column of light at the end of the stairway, even as he felt his eyes begin to water. His face was still wet from tears of a different kind, leaving half-dried trails of bitter salt on his cheeks. The sunlight consumed almost every inch of his vision, blotting out the shape of his father's body ahead, being carried up the stairs in a blanket by Seto, Mahad, Iset and Karim. But as they neared the surface, Atem saw clearly the glint of the Millennium Pendant cradled against his father's breast, somehow shining even brighter than Ra's own light.

After they emerged from the chamber, Atem finally willed himself to lift a hand and cover his eyes, bringing the dark shapes before him into sharp relief against the bright cliffside. His empty heart lurched to life again at the sight — the entire convoy stood facing him, the head of every priest and soldier hung low in respect for their fallen king. He felt smaller now than he had even in the presence of the gods.

Atem's attention was drawn away at the feel of a hand falling on his shoulder. He turned to see Satiah standing beside him, her amber eyes aflame in the dawning light. She looked back toward the convoy, then nodded lightly, and Atem understood what was being asked of him.

Slowly, he stepped forward, casting himself in the same ray of sunlight that illuminated his father's body, which now rested peacefully on the ground before him. He looked upon the departed Pharaoh and opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn't until he lifted his eyes back to his subjects that words finally came to him.

"Our Pharaoh is gone," he said, surprised by the weight of his own voice. "He gave his life to protect us — his children, the children of Egypt — from the threat of darkness. But his death alone will not be enough to balance the scales of sin he inherited. A tide is rising, brothers and sisters — a tide of evil. And when it comes, it will crash down hard upon the shores of our homeland—"

Atem stopped when a dull thud echoed through the clearing, and he turned to see a soldier had dropped his shield and spear to the ground in front of him. Then came another, and another, and for a moment, Atem feared that they might be preparing to turn away — to desert him. But slowly, like ripples across still water, the soldiers began to sink to their knees, until the entire convoy had prostrated themselves before him.

His heart overflowed with honor and humility. "But we will not sit idly by while our great empire is eroded by wickedness," he went on, even louder now. "When the time comes for us to face the darkness — we will be ready. We cannot let our Pharaoh's sacrifice be in vain — we must protect our sacred realm from those who wish to do it harm, so that all men can bask in the light and glory of peace."

A reverent pause followed his words, as if the entire world was brought to a sudden, solemn halt. Slowly, his subjects turned their eyes up to greet their new king. Atem scanned each of their faces, taking in the grief and anger and confusion — letting every emotion fill up his bereaved heart and give him new purpose.

The silence was suddenly broken by high, solitary applause trickling in from above. While the soldiers surged to the ready again, Atem snapped his eyes to the top of the low mesa overhead, but the light of dawn had since broken over the ridge, blinding him to the source of the sound. But then, sinister laughter echoed down to join the vibrato of clapping — laughter that Atem would not soon forget.

"What a truly moving speech, my prince!" Bakura stepped further toward the edge, towing a horse behind him. "Or should I say Pharaoh?"

The thief's eyes flicked to where the departed king was lying limp on the ground, and almost immediately, he began to roar with laughter. Atem felt his blood boiling at the sound; he curled his hands into fists.

"I knew the gods would have words for your father … but this—!" He howled again. "This is better than anything I could have hoped for! The great Pharaoh Aknamkanon, cast into the underworld by his own stupidity! How does it feel? To inherit such a pathetic and shameful legacy?"

Just then, the presence beside him left. He turned to see Satiah rushing toward her horse, which was being held loosely by a soldier at the perimeter of the clearing. She mounted it in one smooth motion, then grabbed the soldier's spear out of his hand and kicked hard into her horse's sides, setting off at a gallop toward the village again.

"Satiah!" Atem called, but she broke through the line of soldiers standing at the mouth of the trail and disappeared around the first bend.

Atem flicked his eyes back up to the mesa, just in time to see Bakura climb onto his horse, chuckling as he receded into the sunlight. Immediately, Atem sprinted to the perimeter of the clearing and mounted his own steed, ignoring the protests of the Guardians who stood stunned nearby. He ripped hard on the reins and urged his stallion up the narrow path in pursuit of his wife.

As he galloped onward, Atem just barely caught sight of Satiah's mare around each twist and bend, along with Bakura's shadow flickering down into the gully from above. Even over the chorus of hoofbeats, Atem could still hear the thief hooting with laughter, and it drove him to dig his heels harder into his horse's sides.

When at last he squeezed out from between the outcroppings and back into the twisted embrace of Kul Elna, he lost sight of Satiah momentarily and was forced to pull his steed to a skidding stop. In the sudden silence, he heard the thundering of her horse off to his right, and he turned to see her galloping up a steep incline nearby. At the top, there was a narrow strip of rock that bridged the gap between Kul Elna and the mesa on which Bakura had been riding.

Quickly, Atem followed after his wife, but her horse's hooves had left divots in the shifting sand that slowed his pace considerably. He whipped his reins from side to side against his horse's shoulders, managing to crest the hill just as Satiah was crossing the land bridge onto the mesa. But as she did, the rock began to crumble, sending huge stones and boulders tumbling down into the ravine below. Atem tugged hard on his reins, barely managing to keep his horse from galloping off the ledge.

Now stranded on the other side of the mesa, Atem looked up to see Satiah had stopped and angled her mare eastward, her eyes narrowed toward the horizon. A moment later, Bakura rode out of the sunlight to meet her. He stopped his steed as well, leaving a healthy distance between them.

"Satiah!" Atem shouted again, dismounting his horse to race as close to the edge as he could. She ignored him, gripping tighter to her spear.

Bakura laughed and settled back into his saddle. "Well if it isn't the Pharaoh's devoted wife," he called. "Tell me, my queen — what's worse? Knowing you're married to an utter coward? Or the fact that you were sold to him like a broodmare?"

Slowly, Satiah lifted her arm, pointing her spear at the thief. This only caused Bakura to laugh harder, his head thrown up to the sky.

"How could I forget the best part?" he shrieked. "He stole your ka as well, didn't he?" Bakura began to laugh so hard, he nearly fell out of his saddle. It took him several moments to gather himself again. "And yet you continue to defend him — the man responsible for the ruin of your family." He clicked his tongue. "After you and your father were crushed at Memphis, I thought you could sink no lower. Now I see I was wrong."

"Face me in a fair fight, then," Satiah called out, "and see how wrong you really are."

Atem saw clearly the shadow of a grimace flickering across Bakura's features. Meanwhile, Satiah's face looked as though it had been carved in stone. They stared each other down for another moment, until, finally, Bakura smiled again and slid down from his horse.

"Fine — I was looking forward to destroying you with my ka," he pulled aside his robe, revealing the hilt of a short khopesh sword tucked into his belt, "but I suppose I'll have to settle for flaying your skin — while your husband watches."

Satiah dismounted her horse as well, stepping forward with her spear clutched in both hands. Bakura drew his sword, twirling it so that it caught the morning light. He bared his teeth in a wicked smile as if taunting Satiah to attack.

She took the bait, kicking herself into a full-blown sprint across the mesa, her spear leading the way. Bakura centered himself and held up his sword in a defensive stance, so that even as Satiah thrust the spear out several feet in front of her, he was able to easily parry the blow. Using the curved edge of his khopesh, he twirled the shaft of the spear around and thrust it into the ground, causing Satiah to stumble forward and into the fatal range of Bakura's blade. Atem tensed, but Satiah was ready — following her forward momentum, she switched the grip of her lead hand and brought the blunt end of the spear out from under her arm, cracking it clean across Bakura's face. He staggered backward, cradling his nose, from which blood soon began to pour.

Growling, Bakura returned both hands to his sword and lunged forward, slicing crosswise at Satiah's head. She dodged it easily, ducking low and going for a short stab toward his core. He just barely managed to curve his body out of range, then made another wild swing of his sword. This time, it connected — not to the tune of lacerated flesh, but rather clanging metal — Satiah had thrust up her lead arm, taking the blow of Bakura's sword on her bronze bracer.

Even from this distance, Atem could see the look of fear in the thief's eyes as Satiah pushed up, then brought her spear down in a sharp arc, grazing the tip across his chest. Again, he was forced to retreat, clasping a hand to his newest wound. It was just a glancing blow, but Atem knew Bakura's confidence would have taken the brunt of the strike. While the thief rallied himself, Atem considered sending his ka to intervene, but knowing the might of Bakura's own creature, he feared he would only put Satiah in further danger.

After wiping the blood from his hand, Bakura returned it to the hilt of his sword and gripped it tight; he began to rotate in a slow circle around Satiah, looking for a weakness. But she showed him none — her stance low and posture fluid.

Bakura sneered. "How long has it been now?" he called. "Since your brother died?"

Satiah's chin tilted up, her eyes flashing, but she kept her shoulders squared bravely to her foe.

"It felt good to send his killer to the Duat," Bakura went on. "You should have seen it — I squished that dumb lunk like a fly."

Atem felt his jaw tighten.

"Really, it's me you should be bowing to," the thief muttered. "After all, I gave you justice."

Satiah twitched, but she restrained herself again. "I don't want your justice."

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats drew Atem's attention back down the slope he'd come from — Mahad and Seto were riding out of the gully and into Kul Elna. He looked at them only long enough to ensure they'd located him, then he turned his head back to the brawl across the mesa.

As soon as he did, Bakura lurched into action again — he rushed at Satiah with his blade outstretched, using it to knock the tip of her spear into the air and close the gap further. Wisely, Satiah backed up out of range and attempted to swipe the spear down, but Bakura parried it again, sweeping it across his body and freeing one of his hands to backhand Satiah across the face. She stumbled, having to plant the blunt end of the spear into the ground to keep herself from falling over.

At this, Bakura swiped again, just barely missing her face by an inch on his foreswing. On his backswing, Satiah brought her weapon vertically across her body, blocking the thief's blade with the shaft of her spear. Bakura's momentum stopped short, and Atem's heart leapt upon realizing the blade had lodged itself completely into the handle of the spear, so deep that even a double-handed pull could not free it.

Satiah pressed her advantage, surging forward and kicking Bakura squarely in the chest. He was forced to release the blade as he fell, landing flat on his back a few feet away. Satiah lifted the spear and broke the shaft across her knee, discarding the half with the sword lodged in it. She then stalked toward her fallen prey, and Bakura skittered desperately backward like a crab to keep out of striking distance. But she soon caught up with him, and Atem felt a swelling of pride as she aimed the spear down at the thief's chin, causing him to stop squirming.

"What about now?" she said loudly. "Do you think I could sink any lower?"

Bakura smirked, and his eyes flashed to Atem as Seto and Mahad finally rode over the hill behind him.

"Pharaoh!" Mahad called, and Atem turned to see clutched in one of his hands was the Millennium Pendant.

Suddenly, the air broke with the familiar glow of magic — Atem wheeled back around just in time to see Bakura's ka, Diabound, erupting out of the ground between him and Satiah. At this, she was knocked off her feet; when she hit the ground, the spear popped free of her grasp and clattered out of her reach.

"Satiah!"

She groaned as Diabound took to the air and floated back over Bakura's shoulder like an obedient pet. The thief laughed and rose to his feet again, moving to stand above Satiah's writhing form. Atem was forced to watch helplessly as Bakura reached down and grabbed Satiah by the throat, lifting her up to stare into her fearful eyes.

"No," he said, "I think this is as low as you go." Roughly, he tossed her to the ground, then stepped back behind his ka, laughing maniacally. "Diabound!" he called in a sing-song voice. "Time for dinner!"

Slowly, Diabound's snake head reared itself above Satiah, who had just managed to draw herself up to her knees. As it bared its pale fangs and coiled back in preparation to strike, Atem was seized with a sudden and instinctive urge — he rushed over to Mahad and ripped the Pendant from his grasp, then held it high in the air. He felt a searing in his forehead as a flash of light erupted before him, streaking across the mesa to cut between Satiah and the threat looming above her. When the light cleared, Atem's spirit flared with triumph — the Shieldmaiden of Sekhmet had heeded his call, and she now stood over his wife with her shield angled high, keeping Diabound's snake fangs at bay.

In the long, drawn moments that followed, Atem felt as if his body were moving on its own: he thrust the Pendant out again, summoning forth another spirit — the Servant of Ptah, Metjen's ka — who curled its mummified hands and levitated two nearby boulders, lifting and positioning them across the gap between the ridge and the mesa. Atem bravely walked over the floating stones, still holding the Pendant out before him.

By now, Bakura's eyes had flown wide in disbelief, and he stood frozen behind his ka while Diabound and the Shieldmaiden continued to grapple above Satiah. As Atem walked calmly in their direction, a wave of warmth swelled within his heart, and before him appeared yet another spirit — his father's, the Wise Sphinx. It dropped gracefully down to the ground and lifted one of its slender lion's paws, pulling back the mask over its face. Immediately, the mesa was filled with a high-pitched screech that caused both Bakura and Diabound to reel back and cover their heads. At this, Atem lifted his arm, directing the Shieldmaiden toward his wife. The spirit obeyed, sweeping Satiah into her arms and carrying her back across the mesa to safety.

But Atem wasn't done. Another lift of his hand brought forth two new spirits — his brother's, the Tomb Guardian, and at last, his own ka. As it appeared, the Magician's Apprentice seemed to instantly read its master's mind — it muttered an ancient spell, causing a deep, arcane glow to envelop him, only to be cast forward a moment later to surround the Tomb Guardian. The hulking beast growled as this new power flowed through it, setting its black eyes ablaze with rage and vigor. It then turned sharply on Diabound and its master.

At this, fear overtook Bakura, rooting him to the spot as the Tomb Guardian raised its immense hammer high over its head. With a wrathful cry, the ram-headed beast charged at Diabound, who was still reeling from the Sphinx's hypnosis. A moment later, the air split with the sound of crunching bones and sinew as the Guardian's hammer connected squarely with Diabound's chest, caving it in and sending him sailing to the earth.

Bakura doubled over and shrieked in pain, clutching desperately at his own chest. From the corners of his mouth, blood trickled out, coming to join the red rivers already flowing from his nose and torso. Without hesitation, Atem flicked his wrist again, causing his brother's ka to turn its focus directly to Bakura now. The Guardian gripped its hammer and started toward the thief, but its movement was impeded by Diabound, who had somehow managed to summon the strength to latch onto the Guardian's heel with its snake head, even as the rest of its body lay crumpled in a heap on the ground. The Guardian was forced to grapple with the snake, hampering it long enough for Diabound to seize its chance to flee. It beat its mighty wings, kicking up dust and debris as it took flight across the mesa, grabbing Bakura on the way. With its master hanging limply in its arms, the spirit took to the skies, slowly receding until it disappeared into the blinding rays of Ra's embrace.

Instantly, Atem felt the fire dying in his soul, leaving nothing but a raw pain that drove like a stake down through his head. Darkness closed in around his eyes, which teetered between the ground and the sky as a weakness seized him, bringing him crashing to the earth. The thundering of his own heartbeat muffled the panicked shouts that followed. He stayed conscious only long enough to see the five spirits he'd summoned dissolving into the morning light, leaving nothing in his blurred vision but Satiah, her face eclipsing the sun as she fell to her knees before him.

Not even the warm waters of a bath could heal Atem's broken spirit. He sat curled in the corner of the spa, legs drawn up on the stone seat beneath him, surrounded by rippling water and swirling steam. His mind was somehow both racing and blank, resisting the pull of thought in favor of safe nothingness.

In truth, he could barely remember how he came to be where he was — he'd lost hours of time, somewhere between collapsing on the mesa and being carried into the palace by Seto and Mahad.

But no matter how hard he tried to forget — he could not scrub the memory of his father's soul being ripped mercilessly from his body.

Wincing with pain, both mental and physical, Atem turned and folded his arms over the edge of the spa, resting his chin on top. As he did, his eyes were drawn over to the bench against the wall of the bathhouse. Sitting among his tattered and dirtied clothes was the Millennium Pendant, shining bright even through the thick steam. Just this fleeting glance caused Atem to be struck with another memory — one of heat and rage and power. He remembered with primal intensity how the spirits had come forth at his command, one after another, each of them drawing on a strength that had been lying dormant within him until that very moment. Where was that strength now, he wondered — and why had it left him feeling so utterly empty in its wake?

Atem was forced to abandon his search for the answers at the sound of the door opening behind him. Thinking it was just another servant come to stoke the fire, he did not bother to turn around. But a moment later, his eyes were drawn downward when the surface of the water broke around him in gentle ripples. In the shattered reflection, he saw two amber eyes gazing down at him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Satiah lowering herself to the stone seat behind him.

Her face looked pained and pale, accentuating the crimson hue of fresh bruises flaring on her cheekbone and across her throat. More uncomfortable memories threatened to invade his mind, but his thoughts were suddenly quelled to silence at the feel of her hands sliding slick around his chest, folding him into her familiar embrace. In that moment, nothing else in the world existed — not the Millennium Items, not the thief Bakura, nor a single priest or peasant in the entire kingdom of Egypt. Just he and his wife, tangled together in water and warmth. Atem reached a hand up to hang loosely from her wrist and leaned his head against her cheek, closing his eyes.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too," he whispered, feeling his own breath circling in the curve of her neck.

"You'd go on," she said. "Just as we all do when we lose someone dear to us. You'd go on … and rule this land justly and rightly, as your father did — and his father before him."

Atem felt the words weighing as heavy as anchors on his spirit — but reliably, Satiah kept him afloat, her measured voice a lifeline among the thrashing waves of reality.

"This may not be the life you wanted… Or even the one you were born for. But it is the one you were given." She paused, as if she too feared she might be drowned by the truth of her words. "Now, it's up to you to decide what to do with it."