QUICKAUTHORSNOTE: So! There is quite an attitude change from this chapter and the last one, so please, read this with an open mind! This chapter is serious and dramatic! :o Well at least it's meant to be... Anyway! This is like a clue to future stuff! Read on!

King POV

When balancing on the line of life and death, it's like emerging from water dry, drops of liquid running down your limbs harmlessly, as quick as mercury.

Quicksilver infiltrating your mind, body, and soul.

That's what it feels like when meeting, well, you'll see.

I rise up from the water-like opening, the drops of liquid rolling off me falling soundlessly, and without a ripple join the main body again. Encircling me a few meters away are twelve body-length mirrors, showing in all but two of them, which stand in opposite directions, my reflection. The ceiling is a black eternity. The only light comes from the water, glowing blue, silver, and white, and somehow the mirrors do nothing but show the light and not reflect it. The familiar, overwhelming silence occupies the room, so strong that I have to break it.

"I'm here, okay?! Now what do you want!" the words escape from my mouth frantically, fear riding on the edge.

I sense a shimmer come from the blank mirror to my left and turn to see him- the ancient me- walk out. Wearing casual clothing, he walks over to me slowly, the steps of his bare feet somehow reverberating throughout the glass floor before stopping a few feet away. "It's been a while since we've talked, traitor."

I grit my teeth. "I am not a traitor."

"Anyone who walks away from his own empire is a traitor and a disgrace. And now you're damned, me with you." He points a finger at me menacingly. "It is your fault I cannot advance to the afterlife! Your fault I cannot be blessed! Your fault I am still here!" He stands but a footstep away, and I have to try not to cower.

I hear an insane chuckle and turn around to see my mummified body stagger out of the other blank mirror. "Care if I join in?" A grin stretches across his face and he lunges at me, his fingers digging into my shoulders, not letting go even as I try in vain to pry his fingers off me. He leans even closer, and the smell of rot fills my nostrils, making me gag. "You left me in that tomb to fade to nothing, but I refuse to do your bidding. I am the soul you abandoned-"

I somehow find enough space to draw my arm back and punch him. I hear the rip of fragile skin and the crunch of old bone in response- I had punched a hole straight through my dead self.

The dead me chokes and freezes, and I retract my arm. Black blood runs backwards up my arms, staining them a sickening purple, and I gasp and step back- straight into my ancient living self. He pins my arms behind me, bending them painfully. "You will never control us," he hisses into my ear. He bends my arms even more and the strain of muscle and bone is so unbearable I scream.

My mummy self looms over me, breathing raggedly. "Actions result in consequences." He says with through a tight smile, and begins unwrapping the loosing cloth around his head, giving me a glimpse of decaying skin and tissue, bringing the feeling of revulsion to my stomach.

The last thing I see is my mummy, my king, and myself reflected in ten mirrors.

My eyes fly open. Awake? Finally. Glad of it? You don't even know. Trembling and drenched in sweat? Like someone had doused me in the Nile.

Sitting up, I wipe my hand across my face, mussing up the hair that had been plastered to my forehead. Swinging my legs out of the motel bed that Amelia had been able to rent us last night, I look back at Lysander, who's sleeping on the other side of the bed. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, with no hint of the boy who rejects me constantly. I long to brush my hand along his face and kiss his cheek, but I don't trust myself to not wake him up.

Biting my lip, I stand up and take off my shirt- I need to cool off; hopefully a shower will do the trick. Grabbing some clothes that were bought yesterday at the mall, I walk over to the bathroom and turn on the shower. It's amazing what's been invented in the last few millennia, it still feels weird to see someone talking on a phone or simply flicking on a light switch. It all just reminds me of how long I was trapped in that tomb.

Shaking my head, I slip the rest of my clothes off and step into the spray of cold water. Immediately, my overheating body seems to relax, yearning for the fresh and clear-minded feeling water often gives…

I turn off the water. I don't want to spend more time than I have to in here. I shake my head, sending drops of liquid flying everywhere, and pat myself dry with a towel before putting on a white shirt with the words I'M FOREIGN in multiple languages and dark purple skinny jeans.

With the towel draped around my neck, I open the bathroom door to see Lysander, with his hand outstretched as if to turn the door handle. Immediately I see hesitation in his eyes, and I avert my own and walk past him, my shoulder accidentally bumping into his, and try to ignore the look of confusion and hurt that crosses his face.