Wowza, it's been a while...

Work and college got intense. I am extremely sorry...

But, as I always do, I have returned from the dead with a brand new chapter! To be honest, this story is taking a much different turn from what I had previously intended, but it's fine. I'll work with it. I will never abandon my babies!

So, yeah. Updates on everything else will be down in the AN, so be sure to check that out at the end of the chapter!

Enjoy!

Chapter 27

Ancient Egyptian Cults

Ancient Egyptian Smoke Monsters

Scribe Duties in Ancient Egypt

I sighed as I continued my fruitless Google search. It was well past my usual bedtime, but I was wide awake. The caffeine I had consumed when Mom and I got home from the doctor's office earlier in the evening (with no test results, no need for an MRI, and no possible explanation as to how or why I had fainted besides a lack of food and drink that morning) had not worn off in the slightest, and I was using that to my advantage.

"Why am I googling scribe duties?" I murmured to myself, shaking my head at the spur of the moment search. "I was a scribe, for Pete's sake." The clock on my bedside table read 2:23 a.m. School was going to be a hoot tomorrow.

Or, I guess, today.

Pursing my lips, my eyes roamed over to the Eye of Horus amulet, which I had hung from an old volleyball trophy on one of the shelves of my desk. It glinted in the light from my laptop, the lapis-lazuli pupil staring back at me with indifference. "Why don't I remember more about Neferu?"

It was comical, really. I was actually half-expecting the necklace to answer me.

But of course, as inanimate objects – even those of the priceless ancient Egyptian artifact variety – are bound to do, it continued to remain where it was in silence. Except this time, it seemed to be glaring at me.

"Fine, be that way," I muttered in resignation, going back to typing away at my computer.

Knowing nothing was going to pop up, I entered Sagira on the search engine. The only things that came up were Egyptian name generators and name meaning websites. I already knew the meaning of my name: "little one."

Gods, as much as I loved Mewet and Yt, could they have been any more obvious about my position in the sibling order?

For a brief moment, I could hear my father's voice:

You are destined to become something special, my little bluebird.

I frowned. The nickname "bluebird" seemed to be a recurring theme in both my Egyptian childhood and the last few months. Why did Joey and my parents refer to me as such? The only thing I could deduce was that my eyes were blue, but it would be too much of a coincidence for Joey to add "bird" to it like my parents once did.

My eyes narrowed at my computer screen. This time, I typed blue birds in ancient Egypt.

Of course, I knew that both the heron and the ibis were naturally blue, and that herons were often associated with the cosmos because of their blue coloring. Blue was traditionally attributed to the waters of creation, and Amun-Ra, the King of the Gods, could be depicted with blue skin to represent his power. I wrote numerous prayers to him and the heron when I was apprenticing under my father.

And that information was exactly what I found when I hit search. I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. Part of me wanted to call Atem, but the other part reminded me that it was half-past two in the morning, and waking him up so early would not bode well. He was usually awake by four-thirty, anyway, just before the sun began peeking above the horizon.

Old habits die hard.

Speaking of Atem...I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my mind of Erin's memories, instead focusing on Sagira. Besides my newer recollections of my childhood, most of the moments I could remember were all related to him in some way. Maybe it was the fact that I was spending time with him, and my mind was simply regressing to his familiar presence. The same happened with Mana; the Dark Magician Girl must have spawned the memories of her.

But why, then, was I remembering Neferu, and my mother, and random pieces of history which I seemed to have also taken part in? Was my subconscious mind trying to tell me something?

Was there really – as Ishizu seemed to believe – something terrible that happened when Sagira disappeared from Egypt three thousand years ago?

And why, if there was, would I have somehow prevented myself from remembering anything about it?

On Thursday evening, day three of my research-fueled, sleep-deprived state, Atem invited me over for dinner. At first, I almost declined in favor of at least trying to force myself to actually sleep through the night (over-the-counter sleeping pills were looking pretty good by the time Thursday morning rolled around), but I couldn't say no. Not when that unexplainable guilt settled in my stomach once again.

So when five o'clock finally rolled around, I was all ready to leave for the Muto residence. I had bought a tray of vegetables and ranch dip from the grocery store in a lame attempt to thank them for the meal, and also thrown a frozen pizza in the oven for Mom and Miri.

"Hey, noob, don't forget to check the pie in ten minutes," I reminded Miri as I slung my purse over my shoulder.

"Hey, dweeb, I'm not an invalid," she retorted, playfully rolling her eyes at me from her spot at the kitchen table, where she was currently doing her English homework.

"Just checking." I smiled and made my way over to the couch. Mom had plopped down there when I got home in an attempt to get some knitting done, but when I peeked over the back of it, I found her fast asleep, needles still in hand. Carefully, trying not to disturb her sleep (I wasn't the only one in my house who was suffering from insomnia), I slipped them out of her fingers and set them on the coffee table. Giving her a kiss on her clammy forehead, I straightened up and walked back into the kitchen. "When Mom wakes up, can you tell her I'll be back by nine?"

"Sure thing," Miri murmured, chewing on the tip of her pen before writing something down in her notebook. "Tell your obligatory romantic interest I said hi."

"Wha-?" I whirled on my way out the door to the garage and stared at her. "What does that even mean?"

With a small snort at her own little joke, she shook her head and continued writing. "Bye."

Eyes narrowed, I turned back to the garage. "Bye, you turd."

When I buzzed in at the door of the game shop – which, for some reason, was closed an hour early today – Atem answered.

That was also weird. I didn't think Atem even knew how to use the buzzer. Not that I was insulting his intelligence, but the guy was an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh and Yugi usually answered it anyway.

Atem opened the door with a barely-contained smile. "Hey."

"Hey." I raised an eyebrow, looking past him to the vacant, half-lit game shop. "Where's your grandpa?"

His lips finally turned up, and he held a hand out to me. "He and an old colleague are meeting in town for dinner."

My curiosity peaked as I took his hand. "So it's just going to be me, you, and Yugi?" I asked as he closed the door behind me and began leading me up the stairs to the apartment. A new smell reached my nose. Something fragrant and spiced, and very familiar.

"Not quite," he said halfway up the steps.

I cocked my head at him. What was this boy planning? Was Tea invited over, too, as a sort of double-dating thing? She hadn't said anything.

But, then again, Tea hadn't been saying much of anything the last week or so. She wouldn't talk about it when I asked. "Just...stress. Finals are coming up."

Finals were still weeks away.

My questions about dinner were answered when we stepped into the kitchen. Here, the aroma was so strong that just taking a whiff of it sent me into a food-driven euphoria. I couldn't help the "Mmmmm..." that left my mouth.

He chuckled, allowing me to take in the fact that not only were fresh Ta'amia, bread, and fruit waiting on the stove, but at the wooden dining table in the center of the floor, there were only two chairs. The tabletop was set with two plates atop woven placemats, no utensils, and a cup and bowl of water next to each plate instead.

The grin on my face was hard to hide. He had made a traditional ancient Egyptian meal. Suddenly the plastic-lidded tray of vegetables I was holding felt out of place. "You...you did this?"

Atem nodded. "Do you like it?"

My hand squeezed his in happiness. "I love it."

Still smiling, he pulled out a chair for me to sit in, and quickly moved to take the tray out of my hands. "I guess this will join the fruit." He said, voice laughing.

I giggled as he set both the vegetables and fruit onto the table for our first course, and sat down across from me. With a smirk, I dipped my fingertips in the water and took one of the smaller fruits from the plate. "Dates, figs, and grapes. You know me a little too well."

"Only because you were constantly eating them," he replied as he began eating as well.

He had no idea how attracted I was to him right then. His face was so jovial, expression the lightest I had seen since...well, since the last time either of us ate a meal like this. "So, what's the occasion?"

He shrugged ever so slightly. "We both needed a break. It's literally been three thousand years since we've eaten like this. And Ta'amia was our favorite food."

The smile wouldn't leave my face. Most boys our age, when given the opportunity to be alone with their girlfriends in their own homes, would be much more keen on doing something other than cooking them their favorite meal. It must have been hell finding some of the ingredients for the very authentic-looking bread resting next to the Ta'amia. The gesture was endearingly innocent. "You're a little too good at this boyfriend thing. I'm starting to question my own skills in the relationship area."

"Step up your game," he teased, popping a grape in his mouth with a playful smirk on his face.

Once we felt we had eaten enough fruit and vegetables, he moved them back to the countertop and placed the bread, along with some kind of hummus, between us. One bite had my tastebuds singing. "Dear god, I missed this."

The bread in itself wasn't amazing, per se. Ancient Egyptian bread was course, gritty, and chewy around the crust, and was mostly renowned for the heartiness of just one piece. But it was familiar. I had grown up eating this at least once a day, which is what made it delicious to me now.

And as a bonus, this version had much less sand in it.

Atem watched me eat, amusement written all over his face. Granted, he was probably just happy I was eating again. I had gone on another stress-fast in the past three days, only replenishing my energy with a stray fruit or granola bar when I wasn't neck-deep in research. I rarely asked him questions when I couldn't recall the answer myself, and even when I did, I made sure to slip it into conversation so he didn't get too worried. Some of the things I had found out were bad. It didn't help that he kept going back to what I had said on Monday night. We hadn't really completely covered the topic of my father simply because shortly after I inquired about him, Mr. Muto came barging in, giving Atem a stern look for being alone in the house with a member of the opposite sex without the older man's permission (a moment that made me question why Atem was doing the same tonight). And though I knew Mr. Muto was very aware of my situation, I was still too afraid to discuss such a sensitive topic in front of him.

The third course was the main one: Ta'amia. "I've been wondering," I said, casually licking the greasy tips of my fingers after devouring two of the deep-fried patties from heaven, "when did you learn how to cook? I'm pretty sure your lessons as prince of Egypt had nothing to do with making your own food."

Atem finished chewing on the last bite of his first falafel, and gave me a strange look. "You taught me."

I almost choked on my water. "What?"

"You were raised as a village girl. You were taught how to cook when you were seven." He cocked his head at me, confusion flashing across his features. "You can remember most of your childhood, but you don't remember your mother passing on the household duties to you and your sister?"

The irony was too much. I felt my cheeks burning in embarrassment. Now that he said it, the memories of sneaking Atem into the palace kitchens some nights when we couldn't sleep were loud and clear. "I'm hardly allowed near a stove at my house," I squeaked.

He raised an eyebrow, then laughed. Like, really laughed. I ended up laughing, too, just to get rid of the mortification, and our snickers continued until the final course was set on the table: tigernut sweets. We stuffed ourselves full of the pastries while poking fun at each others' flaws. I couldn't cook, but Atem also couldn't write a poem to save his life. And while I may have been a little lacking in the organization aspect of things, Atem was horribly prone to misplacing important items, such as his phone, wallet, or – when he was younger – hand-written scrolls containing his daily lessons.

After clearing the table and washing the dishes (a chore which took much longer than it should have due to an inability to concentrate on cleaning the plates in favor of splashing each other with soapy water), we ended up on the sofa in the living room once again, skimming through our history notes (there was a test Friday, and "studying" was part of his reason for inviting me over).

"Do you remember anything else about your father?" He asked softly as I read over my main points of the Spanish Inquisition. We had been studying in silence for about ten minutes, and I figured it was only a matter of time before he brought my old family up again. Atem was rather determined when he wanted to find something out.

I shook my head, pursing my lips at my notebook. "Nothing important. I can remember the twinkle in his eyes when he joked around, and the scars on his fingers, but I can't for the life of me think of anything past that. Besides that one memory, I don't think anything out of the ordinary ever happened in my childhood. The only things I can truly focus on are the nightmares I always had. Remember, the ones that kept me awake a lot back then?"

"You said you could never remember them."

"Au contraire," I replied, tapping my pencil against the wood of the coffee table as I looked up to meet his eyes. While I may have used research as my main excuse for losing so much sleep in the past week, there was also another. "There was a reason I downright refused to close my eyes for hours after they woke me up."

He put his pen down and took my hand. "What were they about?"

I took a long, shaky breath. "Mostly monsters. The ones I witnessed your father's court using to save Egypt. But...they weren't saving anyone. They were destroying them." My mouth suddenly felt very dry despite the three glasses of water I had downed at dinner. "My father was always somewhere in the dreams, either being hurt or controlling them himself; his position changed from night to night. They didn't really make much sense. But there was always this prickling feeling in my chest that would spread to the rest of my body...like something was poisoning my blood. And no matter how hard I tried to wake up, I couldn't."

"You had these...before you ever came to the palace?" He murmured, voice much more concerned than it had been moments ago.

I nodded solemnly. "They started soon after I saw my father and his 'friends' that one day."

Atem put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. "I'm sorry. That must have been horrible."

"There's more," I added. He stiffened a bit and searched my eyes, waiting for me to continue. "In every dream, I could hear this distant chanting. It just sounded like gibberish at first to add to the horror of the dreams, but it got clearer and clearer with time."

"What was it saying?"

Swallowing in an attempt to rid my mouth of its dryness, I closed my eyes in the hopes that I wouldn't see the fear flash in Atem's. My voice dropped to a whisper. "Down with the light, destruction be on Pharaoh's hands. Praise Zorc, Lord of Darkness. Praise the day he shall rise and rip Horus' line from their holiness." Though it seemed strange and off-kilter in English, it was much more threatening in its original Ancient Egyptian.

If he had gone rigid from my previous words, these turned him into stone. He didn't say anything at first, and when I peeked at him between my eyelashes, he wasn't looking at me, but instead staring very hard at the coffee table.

I wanted to say something to alleviate the tension in his posture, but I couldn't think of anything comforting enough. All I could do was watch the emotions flicker across his face: confusion, repulsion, and then the famous poker face that made it impossible to see what he was really thinking. It made me wish I hadn't told him.

After a long, heavy silence, he turned his eyes back to me. They were noticeably darker, and his arm around my shoulders tightened. His voice was low, sending shivers down my spine. "You understand the implications behind those words, don't you?"

"Every last one." I said in a tone that matched his. "But I have no idea what it means in the context of the dream, or even in real life."

He watched me for a moment longer, making my heart rate speed up as I saw his frown deepen. There it was again: that nagging feeling I had that he wasn't telling me something.

Then Atem nodded to nothing in particular, his expression changing as he attempted to amend the seriousness of the conversation. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring any of this up on a happy night like this."

Cocking my head at his strange one-eighty, I sighed. With the weight of our exchange gone, I remembered how exhausted I was. "It's fine," I murmured, finally moving to close my notebook as I barely suppressed a yawn, "I know you're just trying to get to the bottom of this."

"It was still inappropriate to bring it up. I should have waited until tomorrow." He said. His voice was still a bit strained, but it wasn't as bad as it had been seconds ago. Definitely hiding something.

Deciding not to start an argument, I waved his apology away. "Do you want to do me a favor?" By this point, I had tiredly moved from my sitting position to a slight crouch on the cushion, completely facing him. A sly grin would have been on my lips if I hadn't been so goddamn sleepy.

He raised an eyebrow at my words. "Of course."

Slowly, I moved my face closer to his until he knew what I was doing and closed the rest of the distance for me. Pressing my lips to his, I threw my arms around his shoulders and pushed him towards the armrest of the couch so he had no choice but to lean back, pulling me with him. Once he was situated beneath me, I broke the kiss, flashed him an exhausted smile, and rested my head on his chest. "Be my pillow for a while," I slurred, already closing my eyes.

I felt the rumble of his chuckle against my ear as he draped his arms around me to hold me to him. "For a while," he whispered.

But I was already halfway to cloud nine.

"Must you always be reading?" A familiar voice asked from behind me, jerking me out of my study of ancient lore.

I huffed at the dark-eyed apprentice and rolled my eyes ever-so-slightly. "I get paid to read and write." I reminded him with a touch of annoyance in my otherwise-playful tone.

Neferu snickered, then gestured to the door. "Mahad wanted to speak with you. Shall I tell him you are too busy reading up on the birth of the evil god?"

With a sigh of embarrassment, I closed the scroll, concealing the correctly-identified information from his sight. "Where is he?"

"He is in the sparring circle. I am to take you to him."

I frowned. What was Mahad doing there, and why were we discussing spells anywhere outside of the magical training room? Nevertheless, I picked up my reading material and tucked it under my arm, standing to walk with him. "I guess my studies can wait."

As we began heading down the sunlight-filled hallways of the palace, Neferu once more turned his attention to the papyrus I was carrying. "Why were you looking over that story, anyway? Don't you have more important topics to attend to? Politics? Prayers?"

My frown deepened. "I...was curious." In all honesty, the particular motivation behind my sudden interest in Zorc was quite lost on me. All I knew was I had woken up that morning with the urgent need to learn about him.

"Well, as glad as I am to hear your vague answer to my question, it still worries me, Ira." My eyes snapped to his face at his casual use of my nickname. We had become close friends, yes, but the only person besides Atem who shortened my name was Mana. A queasy feeling in my stomach told me I wasn't entirely comfortable with it.

"You don't need to worry." I assured him, and left it at that.

Neferu didn't press the subject. As bold as he could be in one-on-one conversations, he knew when to stop prying.

And I think he was secretly a bit afraid of me.

When we reached the sparring circle, Mahad was sitting on one of the spectators' benches, rubbing his chin as he leafed through a spellbook he had received from a friend in Alexandria. In the circle, two young magicians were practicing battle magic. Every few spells, Mahad would correct their mistakes and tell them to try again. It made sense now why he wanted to meet here; when his apprentices were training, the grounds were usually empty to prevent magic from accidentally hitting innocent bystanders. And by the looks of it, these two needed much more practice before they would be allowed to travel to the true Magicians' Training Grounds outside the city.

"Good afternoon, Sagira," Mahad greeted, looking at me out of the corners of his eyes while he continued observing his charges. "Rasha, ease up on the straight attacks. They may be effective when your aim is better, but they will tire you out much more quickly than an offhand blow."

"Right. Sorry, Master Mahad," The boy named Rasha, the taller and scrawnier of the two, replied.

"Try again," Mahad urged. Finally, he turned to me. A breeze blew at my side, and I realized that Neferu was no longer beside me.

"You wanted to see me?" I inquired, taking a seat a comfortable distance away from the Head Magician. Though he was my friend, in the presence of others, I was to treat him like the noble he was.

He nodded. "Isis had a vision," he said quietly so the boys wouldn't hear us.

"Oh?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion. Why hadn't he just let her tell me this?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, he added, "She was a bit shaken up. It was about you, and she came to me to ask for advice."

I narrowed my eyes, though my heartbeat quickened at what his sullen tone implied. "Why would she need to ask for your advice on a vision about me?"

Mahad visibly hesitated, throwing a quick glance back at his students to ensure they weren't doing anything wrong. When his eyes moved back to mine, they were conflicted in a way that assertive Mahad's eyes never were.

"It's your father. And..." He inhaled sharply, then exhaled, a strained note in his breaths. "...And Zorc."

I hugged myself as I fell to my knees, something resembling a sob escaping my throat. The ground was much cooler than I had expected, considering the smoldering remains of my village surrounding me. There was nothing left that even resembled the place I had lived my entire life in, save for some stubborn – though broken and half-melted – clay pots littering the ruins.

Salty tears dripped into my mouth, still agape and unable to make coherent sounds. A cold breeze wafted around me. The smell of smoke and death filled my nostrils. All I could feel was guilt. My thoughts were repetitive, convictive, and cruel.

He warned you.

You could have saved them all if you weren't such a coward.

This is your fault and yours alone.

Another wave of agony filled my chest, and I curled in on myself in an effort to avoid the pain that was sure to grip my heart. The heat from the dying blaze seared into my skin as I knelt there, pathetically consumed in my own grief. I had no one left. Atem was dead. My family was dead. I should have been dead. But I was still alive, though wholly undeserving of that fate.

So absorbed was I in my pitiful state of mind that I didn't notice a shadow fall over me in the eerie, orange glow.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

I ceased my incessant shaking long enough to look up at the sound of the man's voice. The figure of a tall, broad-shouldered male with a hooded cloak concealing his face stared down at me. I couldn't muster up my voice, much less the courage, to demand clarification of his statement. Instead, I took a shallow, shuddering breath and stared back, waiting for him to speak again.

Slowly, almost teasingly, he knelt down in front of me. "It hurts, doesn't it? Knowing that everyone you've ever loved is gone forever?"

My lip quivered. "Who are you?" It was meant to sound firm and demanding, but the air in my burning lungs was only enough for a squeaking whisper.

Something glinted in the firelight, like he was smiling. "I was a friend of your father's."

Confusion and a sense of foreboding blossomed in my mind. "What happened here?" I asked, voice still small and feeble.

"Your father knew the consequences of his actions."

"What are you talking about?" But I already knew what he was referring to. I had hoped it had all been a lie.

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that made me cringe. "You know very well by now your connection to the God of Evil. You feel weaker now, correct? When he fell, you felt the blow to your own life force."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and forced the tears to remain in my eyes. He was taunting me with the deception of my childhood and the fact that Atem's sacrifice had locked away more than just Zorc's power. "Why are you telling me this?" I croaked, though the weariness in my bones had grown worse at his acknowledgement of its presence.

A large, rough hand grasped my chin, and beneath the hood, I saw two glittering lights where his eyes should have been. "Because I can help you bring them back."

His words struck a chord in my mind, and I knew he was referring to my family and Atem. "How?" My voice was much clearer now, as was my awareness.

He shrugged. "Magic. Foresight. I have my ways. I can reunite them with you. Your mother, father, and sister...and your dear, fallen lover."

Somewhere deep inside of my consciousness, the logical side of me protested, screaming that he was lying, that this was too good to be true. And I knew it was.

But logic was no longer in control of my actions. "Do it."

A finger wagged in my face. "Ah, ah, ah, little girl. There is payment involved. I am not doing this purely out of the good in my heart."

"Name your price. I can meet anything."

For the first time, I saw his teeth. They were white, and they shone as he grinned. Fear crept into my skin."Nothing too troubling, really."

"Gold?" I asked. "Jewels? Spells?"

He chuckled again. "Your –"

"Erin," the sound of Atem's gentle whisper in my ear jerked me out of my sleep, and I found myself once again curled up against him on the couch in the Mutos' apartment, his arms wrapped securely around me. I blinked a few times to rid my eyes of the hooded figure's feral grin and looked up to find Atem watching me with a concerned expression. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Mmm," I murmured, resting my head back on his chest to avoid his questioning eyes. An old VHS tape on the shelf across the room became the new subject of my focus. "What was I saying?"

I prayed the fear rushing through my body hadn't bled into my words.

He gently brushed a strand of hair out of my face and ran it between his fingers, but the tension in his voice when he spoke again was immediately obvious. "Something about Neferu...and Zorc."

I bit my lip and shut my eyes for a moment to think of some kind of explanation. I hardly knew what had happened in the visions this time, but the implications weren't great. The soft fabric of Atem's t-shirt was deceptively comfortable against my cheek. I wished I could go back to a time when he and I were only dating and not star-crossed lovers from three thousand years ago.

Had there ever been a time like that, though?

"It's...complicated," I managed to mutter, even though I knew the vague response would annoy him more than a little. I had promised him I would tell him everything when it happened, but keeping up on that promise was proving to be much harder than I thought. I also had had no idea how shitty of decisions Sagira made in the days after Atem's death.

He tapped my shoulder blades to let me know he was sitting up, and I moved off him so he could reposition himself on the couch. The expression I met when I got up the courage to look him in the face again was suspicious. "Complicated how?"

Silence for a moment. There was no proper way to phrase the slow, stabbing heartache pervading my senses into logical sentences. Taking a deep breath for the thousandth time that night, I clenched my fists in my lap. "I know I told you I would let you know if I found anything else out. But..." I let out a bitter sigh. "There are some things I'm not sure I want you to know about. I...I fucked up, Atem. Bad."

He cocked his head at me. "What do you mean?"

I hesitated once more. I really didn't want to bring this up. It was a sore subject for the both of us, and I hadn't dared touch it any other time new memories surfaced. "I wasn't in my right mind after..." I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence now that I was facing him.

Guilt crept over his face, and I instantly regretted bringing it up at all. The pain that blazed to life in his crystalline eyes killed me a little bit inside. "After I died," He finished, then, swallowing hard and giving me the most agonized look I had ever seen, he added, "I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, my voice trembling. "Stop apologizing. It's not your fault. You gave your life to save the world. That's hardly something to be sorry for." Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

"Ira..." He whispered, and I realized tears had begun falling from my eyes.

I squeezed them shut in an attempt to hold the waterworks back, but the reiteration of my old name only added salt to the wound. My heartbeat quickened, and anxiety crept up my throat like a demon threatening to leap out of my mouth. I was so emotionally exhausted. Every time I went to sleep, I lived another miserable minute of Sagira's short, bittersweet life. I was sick of the anguish that my past self had caused everyone around her. She was an idiot, and now I had to live with the consequences.

Atem wasted no time in wrapping me in his arms again, letting me snivel into the crook of his neck as my shoulders shook. His hand rubbed my back slowly and assuringly. I hated that it was always like this. He was always comforting me, despite having been through much, much worse.

It wasn't until I felt a wet warmth on my own shoulder that I realized I wasn't the only one shedding tears. His cry was silent, but more powerful than the saddest sounds of weeping. I latched myself onto him, hugging him as tightly as I could. My fingers ran through his hair in a comforting gesture that I remembered never failed to calm him down in the past.

We didn't move for a very long time.

In fact, we probably would have stayed like that for hours, but then my phone went off from its place on the coffee table. The noise was obnoxious in the complete silence that had fallen over the room like a thick, heavy smog.

Atem loosened his grip on me so I could check the message. It was from Miri.

Come home please.

I raised an eyebrow as I texted back. What's up?

The answer was immediate. Please.

Fear crept into my skin. Possible scenarios, ranging anywhere from the cult showing up at our door to Mom's health declining more, raced through my head. I looked at Atem, whose eyes were still a little red-rimmed, and then back at my phone.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I don't know." I said, standing and gathering my things. "But I need to go."

He helped me get everything together, and then took my arm as I dug into my purse for my keys. "I'll drive you." Back to his assertive self. He must have picked up on the scared note in my voice.

I didn't argue. Even after my nap, I was still much too tired to drive myself. And I wanted Atem to be next to me, just in case this really was something to do with the cult.

The drive to my house was much too tense for either of our liking. I had Atem's hand in a death grip the entire time, praying that nothing terrible was going to greet me when I walked in the door. Atem kept mumbling reassurances to me, possibly more for the sake of his hand than for me, even though he wasn't entirely understanding of the situation.

As he pulled into my driveway, his headlights fell on a familiar sight. A dark red Jeep whose body was splattered with old, caked mud sat parked in front of our garage.

"No way," I said as Atem stopped the car. My heart beat faster in excitement.

"What is it? Someone you know?" He asked, noting my sudden change in attitude.

I nodded. "Oh yes." I was out of the car in record time and running up the steps to the front porch, figuring Atem would follow me anyway, which he did. Always ready to make sure I was okay before he left.

As I was fumbling around in my purse for my keys, the door opened, revealing my mother, looking happy and disappointed at the same time. "It's about time you come home!" Spotting Atem behind me, she smiled kindly. "Hello again, Atem."

I ignored his polite return to my mother's greeting, moving around her to the man in the living room, who had been watching as the door opened. His expression was twisted a bit at the sight of Atem, but softened as I ran to him, laughing when I threw my arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Landon!"

Aaaaannnnddd scene!

Ya'll were wondering where Landon was. Here he is!

What is the real meaning behind Erin's nickname?

What do the symbols in Erin's dream mean?

Why was Sagira so interested in learning about Zorc, and what was the mysterious man talking about when he said they were connected?

We got some sadness, but it's only to be expected when one's past is as difficult as Sagira and Atem's is.

And last, what is Landon doing in Domino? What will this mean for Erin?

We're quickly approaching the big tournament! Next chapter we will dive into the beginning!

As I said above, my posting schedule is super out-of-whack (as it has always been, and always will be), so please forgive me for my slow update time. There are lots of things going on right now, and all of my chapters either have to be written in one extremely long session – which I tend to not do, because I don't like sitting and focusing on one thing for long periods of time – or in random, small bursts when I think of it in my free time. I just want you guys to know that I really appreciate all of the support I've gotten for this story, even in my extended absences. Your words always make my day, and in the end, I am writing this story for all of us to enjoy it. And as I've said before, I'm never going to just give up on AHL. So thank you guys so much for sticking with me through the months I don't update. It means the world to me!

Well, I've done enough babbling...I guess I'll see you when I see you!

-creativelybored