Yami closed his eyes, took a breath, and then blurted out his plan in one chaotic spew..

"I will sacrifice myself to seal away the Shadow Games."

The moment after the words were flung from his mouth, both the horrible meaning and what it would cost Yami broke forth. It hit as a tidal wave. He watched as his advisors

stared in stunned silence before several lunged to their feet, and imediately began their tirade, viciously attacking him, berating him.

The young king felt, rather than heard, the rising malestrom, and he felt as if he were drowning in a sea of chaotic screaming, demanding noise, and horrific needs he could not fulfill. He slank back, discretely into his throne, looking stunned, and completely spent. Had Yami been more alert, he would have noticed that two of his loyal ones

still remained seated. Priest Seth looked as he had been stabbed, but not yet fallen. The combination of the pain from his wounds, and the stunning announcement had left him paralyzed. Priestess Isis was equally stricken, though her calm demeanor, and uncommon grace betrayed none of the storms that raged across her heart. Her eyes fell upon the young king. Yami had his head bowed, as if readying himself early for the executioner's ax. Awkwardly, she rose, to lay an anchoring hand across his arm. Yami startled at the contact, and met her eyes with a silent plea. Isis lightly squeezed his arm in understanding, offered him a sad smile in return, then turned towards the warring mass before her.

"I ask for your silence." The voice of Isis was said to be graced by the goddess she was named for. Yami was awed to hear her words, so softly voiced, carry like a wave of thunder over the shouting, and watched in amazement as the advisors stilled to look at her with riveted attention.

She turned to Yami, as he nodded. "I ask for your forgiveness for the cruelty in my words. Know that I speak the truth, as the Pharoah has asked me. There is no other way to end this. And the Pharoah is the only one who has the power to enact the seal. I am so sorry. There is no other way."

Her words were quietly delivered, the finale of many clasterdine meetings with the Pharoah, of many whispered secrets etched in her tears and long nights studying the ancient texts for deliverance. For any deliverance. When she had first found the spell, she fought the temptation to have the scroll burned and the ashes flung to the wind.

But, she would be disobeying a direct order from her king, and costing countless innocents their lives. Isis had nearly wept when she presented the scroll with shaking hands and visable misery to the Pharoah. Yami had studied it, stricken, but rose, with tragic resolve. He solemnly thanked her for delivering Egypt, and then, cupped her cheek in comfort and asked her to weep in joy, knowing that Egypt would be spared.

And now, before her, was the first step to Egypt's salvation, willingly borne by a young king who looked too stricken to even stand at the moment. Isis bit her lip, then turned to view Seth. Seth was trembling, and pale, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. The wounded priest clearly needed rest. "Perhaps, my Pharoah, it would be best to end this counsil for now. If you are firm in your plans, there is little left to debate." Yami, preoccupied with his own dark thoughts and hurt by the sudden oposition paid her no heed until she clasped his arm, and shook him. "My Pharoah." Her words were harsh, but whispered. "End this." Yami drew two breaths, lost his open brokeness, stood up to the full height he had been blessed with, and then clapped his hands loudly. "My decision stands, my friends. So have I said it, so shall it be."

Yami's face had the contenance of stone, and his thoughts were unreadable behind the stoic royal mask he had donned again. With that, he turned on his heel, and with a swirl of his cloak and a glint of gold and white, he strode out of the room.

Yami fairly marched down the royal hallway, his sandles making a stacatto rythym on the stone, his face stoic and forbidding interuption or questions. He had given harsh orders to his attendents to leave him in peace, and that done, wearily sank into the soft comfort of his private chamber. His vision blurred, his head throbbed, and he was so tired and so afraid. The tormenting questions flitted viciously through his mind. Was he being foolish in offering himself as a sacrifice? Was he strong enough to be that willing? What if it wasn't enough? What if he died in vain, and Egypt was hacked into pieces, either by a dragon's flame, or the blade of an enemy? Was this the answer?

Here, away from the expectations, and the prying eyes, and the demands, he stripped himself of the golden ordiments, the guantlets, the many earings and last of all, cloak, and crown. This being done, he allowed himself an undignified slump of sheer exhaustion, and reclined into the sweetly familiar softness of his bed, pulling the silk over his head, and curling into fetal position, and waited for the sleep to overtake him.

Outside his door, two guards, thickly muscled, armed, and quite bored, lounged, and chatted quietly, while giving occasional glances at the sleeping king. His Royal Majesty's snoring resembled a noise somewhere between an irritated camel, and the hitching whine of a whipped mule, and he was sprawled inelegantly on his belly.

Their conversation was interupted by the silken footsteps of Isis, as she glided over the stones. Upon seeing her, both guards smartly snapped to attention, hastily bowing, and stammering apologies. Isis offered a kind smile, and charmingly asked to speak to Yami. The guards exchanged troubled glances, remembering the strict orders of letting the king sleep. Isis dipped her head, in contemplation, then slowly raised her eyes to view them through glossy tresses the shade of obsidian. The bewitching effect was enough to not only have the guards bow and stammer, but personally escort to the bedside of the sleeping King. Isis permitted herself the indulgance of a naughty smile. To see the ruler of Egypt splayed out, and lounging was quite a departure from the majestic carniture she was presented with. It was endearing to see him looking so at peace, and she was loathed to interupt it.

"My Pharoah." Yami twitched, but did not wake. Isis attempted to rouse the king with a more forceful approach, by laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

It had the desired effect. The Pharoah stiffened, before exploding upright, disoriented panic and hazy sleep leaving him panting and very angry. His head whipped around frantically, calming only after he noticed Isis, who had one hand clapped over her mouth and a suspect twinkle in her eye of barely concealed mirth. Indeed, Isis was having difficulty restraining the howling laughter. Yami's confusion merged with a deep scowl, as he hastily adorned his crown and bare arms with their respective jewelry, before crossing them over his chest.

"Isis." His words betrayed no emotion, but the anger was there. "My Pharoah." Isis swept her flowing white into a deep curtsy. Yami gave a grunt of annoyance.

"My lady, you are in my royal bed chambers, and I am currently in my sleeping garb. Bowing makes this situation even more awkward. Why are you here?"

Isis turned her face away, and Yami saw her hands flutter up to cover her eyes, as she stiffened, as if in effort to steel herself for the burden she was forced to give him.

"Isis?" Yami's question was uncertain, and kind. "What is it?"

She turned to him, her azure eyes misted over, and the sadness shimmering in their depths. Yami bowed his head, to spare her more embarassment at her tears.

"Perhaps this will become easier if I am permitted a moment to dress properly, and you have a moment to collect your thoughts." Isis nodded her assent, and swept out of the room.

With a groan, Yami lurched to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and hastily tossing on his blue cloak over his ruffled tunic.

Yami found Isis in the balcony, her azure eyes gazing up at the heavens, the gown she wore making her look as if she were cast in cloud and moonlight.

"You wished to speak to me, Isis?" She stiffened, gave him a startled glance, lips parted to answer.

"Yes, my Pharoah. I am sorry to disturb your sleep, but this matter could not wait." Yami raised an eyebrow, and gestured for her to sit.

"Well, then? What is it?" It was more of a growl than a question, and Isis visibly blanched.

Yami fought the rude urge to yawn, but feeling both the gnawing urge to sleep, and the mounting frustration of her evasive lack of an answer was irritating him mightily.

"My Pharoah, I came to speak to you about your plan to seal away the Shadow Powers."

Yami arched one eyebrow high, considering her. Her only answer was silence, as he heaved a sigh and prompted her to continue with a curt question.

"Yes? I informed the counsel of my decision, and thought that I made it explicitly clear that I would not tolerate any opposition. What exactly is there left to discuss?"

Isis regarded him coolly, with narrowed eyes. "My Pharoah, please do not misunderstand my concern. I will not stand in your way if that is your chosen path.

But, I beseech you to hear me out before you continue. I must know...do you fully understand the sacrifice you will make?"

Yami's warring emotions twisted his features, furrowed his brow, and pulled his lips into an uncertain line. Her simple question had effectively destroyed the fortress he had built of noble sacrifice, and lofty illusions of his blood being enough to spare his country and his people.

Isis glided forward, lay a steadying hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of compassion. "You truly have not, have you, my Pharoah?"

Yami bowed his head, miserably, before shaking his head. "I am assuming it involves my blood, and most likely my death, both of which I am willing to give, but..."

His voice trailed off into anguished contemplation, before he whispered, "but I do not know if I have the strength to do that, and I don't know if it will be enough."

He suddenly rose, and strode to the balcony, as he swept an arm outward, engulfing the abyss of darkness, pocked by torch lights and threads of road.

"As Pharoah, I know that my duty is to protect my people, and keep them from harm. To provide mercy and ensure justice." He gave a shaking sigh, before turning to Isis.

"I know this, Isis. And I believe it. I have tried to rule as my father did. But, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if it will work, and I find myself disgusted with my cowardness in hesitating so much." It was painful for her to see him so tormented, but it touched her that he would confide such vulnerability. She instinctively took one of his hands in hers, and clasped it in reassurance. "My Pharoah, do not doubt your nobility, and do not consider yourself a coward. Only the truly brave admit their fear, but

continue, despite of it." Yami gave her a half smile, bittersweet and mocking. "

"I feel neither noble, nor brave, Isis, but I thank you for your kind words. Now," he continued gravely. "I know that you are not here just to express your disapproval of my decision. What is it?"

"Sealing off the Shadow Powers does not involve your death , my Pharoah." Isis's face was deceptively serene, but the shade of alabaster.

Yami's eyebrows climbed high and his mouth fell open. "What do you mean?" He shivered when he felt the ominous ice slither in his stomache as a warning.

With infinite sadness, and compassion, Isis kneeled to look him in the eyes, and he was paralysed by their brewing storms of anguish.

"To seal off the Shadow powers will cost your soul."

-Bleeding...

Yami's heart felt as if it had grown hooves and was now pounding its way into his skull, and he felt time slow, shift, and stall. Two slender dark hands gripped his own, and he studied Isis's fingers with odd detatchment, noting the pain from her fingers lacing against his wrists, in an effort to dredge him free from the stupor. Yami did not breathe, did not blink, did not acknowledge her, but sat, mute and dumb. Flesh had turned to rock.

Fear had yielded to complete paralysis. With a furrowed brow, Isis jerked the still hands in her own, and flinched at the unyielding Pharoah's grip.

Yami heard nothing, said nothing, but could only sit in numb indifference, feeling as if he were suspended somewhere in the womb of time, and the horrible waiting. Isis's shrill cry pierced through his vague thoughts, and languidly, he blinked. Awareness stabbed, fleshed burned, his hands hurt.

He exhaled a deep harsh breath, as if he were drowning. From the hunger in his lungs for air, perhaps he was.

Isis wa still gripping his hands, a steel grip forged by pain, but encased in velvet like flesh. An anchor in this strange sea he was steadily slipping into. "My...soul?" He stammered, dumbly. Isis noted with relief that the Pharoah's eyes had lost some of the murky clouds, but waited for him to return to himself before she continued. Yami raised his shadowed eyes, his mouth set in a grim line, as he sighed.

"I don't understand." His rich cadence was indifferent, and dead.

"I am willing to lay down my life...is that not enough?" Isis could not speak, lest she start wailing. She swallowed hard to choke down the sudden boulder in her throat, as she slowly shook her head.

Yami straightened, the clink of his gold and his rumpled bed clothes pooling around his slender frame. Anger yielded to uncertain torment again, as he crossed his arms as if to errect some barrier between them. "I don't understand." His voice was laced with the threat of tears again, but his face was impassive, and his unyielding scowl of determination was etched in his vicious sense of morality. Isis released his hands as he rose.

He turned to her, chin aloft, and glowered down at her, the suspicion glittering in his eyes that had narrowed to knife points.

"Isis." Her name was abruptly heaved down at her with the force of a hurled rock. " I am growing weary of your repeated evasions of my questions. I am beginning to believe that you either have the answers I seek, and are not forthcoming with them, or that you truly do not know the answers yourself." His voice was a velvet roar of irritation rapidly yielding to rage. Isis cowered beneith the hideous glare, and shuddered when she felt the Pharoah's cruel hand snatch her arm, in a grip that would leave bruises. She yelped when she found herself abruptly hauled into the air, and dangling helplessly before she was flung down to the floor, where she lay in swoon. From the shadowed corner of the room, she saw Yami's pantheresque crouch, the sliding of his arms over his trembling shoulders, the warring rage and the contrite horror of what he had done. He was hunched over, the tears freely falling, the eyes full of pleading, as he buried his burning face in his hands and wept for absolution.

"Isis! Forgive me!" He extended a trembling groping hand. Isis cringed and retreated. Isis's eyes flickered from the contrite, bawling form to the throbbing bruises on her arm, and drew a flowing sleeve over them to cover her flesh.

"I forgive you, my Pharoah. But I will not lose my fear of you, now." Yami flinched as her soft mutilated into a whispered hiss. Yami's mouth was agape with the dawning horror of what he had done. Something raw and ugly had gripped him, twisting him into a monstrosity. He looked at Isis, helpless. She had trailed away into the darkness, her eyes burning embers of saphire, her body stiff and guarded, as she glided forward again.

Yami was being erroded slowly by the vicious beasts of guilt and regret, and she could sense the king's collapse if it were allowed to continue.

"Perhaps the Shadows deserve my soul if I can do such a thing as this."

"NO!" Isis spat, with venom in her voice as she twisted, serpentinely. "You do not deserve this, my pharoah." Yami swallowed down the agony,

and buried his face in his hands. Isis sighed, and worked a soft smile back onto her drawn mouth. Raising her eyes to the heavens, she spoke.

"You must sleep, my pharoah." Yami shook his head, and glared at the bed. "I am beyond the ability to sleep, my lady."

"Would you allow me to help you rest, my pharoah?" Yami's eyes shot open wide, as he gulped. "Help?" It was a high pitched squeak.

Isis allowed an amused smile. "While I am flattered, I assure you that I have no unhonorable intention towards you." Yami exhaled a sigh of relief, but began an awkward stammer to apologize. First he had dared to bruise the Priestess, and then he insulted her honor by taking a kind offer to mean she would act like one of the royal harem's women! He flushed, buried his hands in his hands again, and groaned.

"I am so sorry."

Isis shook her head in gentle dismissal. "My pharoah, you are forgiven. Now...allow me to help you rest." Yami raised a wary eyebrow. Isis swept a hand in a flourish over the extremely mussed bed, and bowed her head. "I swear to you, my Pharoah, you have nothing to fear." Yami yawned, and felt the cloying weariness anew. "How do you intend to do that?"

Isis gave him a coy smile, then gestured to the bed again. "Lie down, in the position that is most comfortable for you, my Pharoah."

Yami stared at the bed as if he had never seen it before, and lay his various golden bobbles to the side, and stripped his shoulders of the heavy cloak. Last, with reverence, he set the crown down, and then glanced over his shoulder at Isis, looking uncertain, and ...afraid.

"What now?" Isis swept a hand over the bed with a pointed glance.

Yami nodded, and lowered himself into a reclining position, his body tensed against the soothing feel of the inviting satin, his head swaddled in a cushion. His eyes never left Isis, and he nearly squeaked when she spread her fingers like wings in the darkness, and set them firmly on his temples. The light touch of air itself, encased in a woman's hand. "My pharoah, are you alright?" Yami nodded, awkwardly. Isis closed her eyes, whispered a soothing chant, as a wan golden glow spilled from her hands over the king. Yami cringed at the unfamiliar sensation, but felt himself grow limp as water, and cradled in serinity. His fears and cares fell away as the soothing darkness eased him to unconsciousness. "Thank you...Isis."

He murmered, almost drugged, before he closed his eyes, and went still. Isis watched his jaw grow slack, and then, his features soften. She smiled when Yami resumed his grunting snore. "You are most welcome, my brave king." She caressed his forehead, allowing her hand to linger on his brow, as she whispered another chant to prevent nightmares from disturbing him. Yawning herself, she slipped away to her own chambers.

(A/N-Isis and Yami are NOT a couple here.)

The Womb of Time.

The light and shadows shifted, stretched, then rudely snapped, as Yami gave a startled cry, and bolted awake. Yami blinked, staring at the stones he has propped himself upon, then snapped his head around,drinking in the golden bricks with a shiver. Gone was the soft bed, the slumber, his homeland. The waking nightmare was back, as familiar as his own flesh. The Puzzle shimmered in mock welcome, as Yami winced at the brightness, flinging an arm over his eyes.

"What...do you want now?" Yami wrinkled his brow, still befuddled by his rude awakening.

"Welcome back, my king." The Puzzle's voice was velvet and ice as it soared gracefully before coming to rest inches from Yami's face. Yami scuttled backwards, until his spine felt the chill of the wall behind him.

"Was your memory a pleasant one, my king? Did it warm your heart to relive the last time of peace before your death? "

The questions were cruel. Yami's eyes flickered, and his cheek twitched, but he did not answer. He had no answer to give.

The Puzzle was fairly glittering with vicious mirth, as it flitted casually away. Yami exhaled the breath he had been holding. The Puzzle said nothing more, but seemed to be extremely interested in Yami's pensive silence. Yami folded his arms across his chest, an old habbit of self-protection, as he sighed.

"Will you permit me to rest now?" His voice was flatly indifferent to the answer, and the Puzzle noted that the Pharoah was struggling mightily to keep his eyes open. His eyes glazed, and his lids slowly closed, as his head drooped.

The Puzzle waited until Yami's breathing slowed, and had slipped back into his slumbering, then emitted a hiss and a shower of sparks, searing Yami's flesh. The Pharoah's face contorted with a choked whimper, as he buried his face deeper into his arms, drawing his knees up to cacoon his throbbing brain into some resemblance of comfort. "Please. Let me sleep." Yami did not raise his head, or open his eyes. His perception of reality had taken on an odd sluggish tone, his thoughts heavy, as if they were cast of stone, and his brain ached from the difficulty in building them into something tangible he could grasp. He did not even flinch when the Puzzle tested his mental defenses. The Puzzle was smug. Normally such an act would result in a royal fit of rage, or at least some bueatifully worded declaration of scorn, but apparently, the Pharoah was too worn down to resist.

Worn down, but not broken...mused the Puzzle. The Puzzle gave Yami's barriers another try. Yami's face contorted, and he twitched, but made no move to defend himself.

With an abrupt swirl of fire and light, the Puzzle pierced Yami's mind. Yami errupted, with a shrill cry of pain, his strangled breath hitched in his frozen chest, his vision fading into darkness, as he clawed futily at his burning forehead, as if to tear his skull open to rid himself of the agony.

Darkness clouded over him, his breath stayed lodged in his throat, as he went limp and paralyzed as water, not even able to sob his anguish.

The Puzzle watched his agony with amused indifference, but noted the deathly stillness and unnatural pallour Yami's face had taken in the last few moments.

The Puzzle released its hold enough to allow Yami breath before flinging the young king into another fragment of his past.

Yami could only choke out a shrill cry before going limp, his eyes wide and staring, a tear burning its silver trail down his cheek.

Images swirled, the cataphony of noise and chaotic sensations churning in his gut left him too numb and bewildered to even think. Sluggish awareness brought life to his limbs, his head felt as if Anubis himself was chewing on it, and his eyelids felt like they were made of stone. He was too dazed to make the attempt, anyway. He flinched when he felt the drop of water dribble down his forehead. He was further perplexed when he heard the sound of a woman's soft weeping. He forced his eyes open, to view Isis bent over him, her face contorted with tears, a bejeweled chalice in her hand.

"Isis.." His voice was rasped out, and confused, as he attempted to reach a hand out to comfort her. His arm refused to respond. Indeed, even speaking required a strange amount of effort. His limbs felt torpid, his mind felt as if it were a bubble on the verge of floating away, and his whole body felt...heavy, and alien, as if it were no longer a part of him. Through the thick vapid torpur that he was caught in, he managed to force Isis's name out again. His mouth tasted of a strange bitterness with a tang of bile and some other substance he could not name. Timidly, he touched his tongue to the side of his lip, and inhaled sharply, at the realization. His eyes darted to the chalice,and attempted to roll off the bed. His body refused to obey his command, and despite the sluggish amanthea that now gripped his limbs, he raised blazing eyes to Isis. "You poisoned me." His befuddled voice was mixed with awe and fury at her actions. "But why?"

"I may not be able to stop you from sacrificing yourself, my king, but I can stop you from suffering."

With a solemn nod, she raised high the jeweled chalice, mixed with the sacrificial wine, and the herb, with a sad look of finality, and a nod to her white clad helpers.

Yami heard nothing but the soft brush of cloth and foot steps before he felt himself being seized by at least four sets of hands. His vision faded in and out, as he saw their glowering masks burning down on him. He could not move.

Yami gulped fearfully, wincing when the grips on his arms tightened, to the point of cutting into his flesh, but was unable to even raise his head. It was an eerie, floating sensation, that he might have found pleasant, had he not been poisoned and at the mercy of his high priestess.

He felt a cloth being firmly held over his nose and mouth, as he tried to buck it off, rolling his head away, frantically.

He couldn't breathe! Yami thrashed blindly, purely on instinct, as they held him down, as somebody murmered soothing words into his ear. Tears were streaming from his eyes, as he twisted his face away in terror. Vaguely, he felt gentling hands weaving through his hair, fingers templed on his forehead, a spell being chanted. Yami felt the strangling anguish slacken, and the cold metal of the chalice's rim proffered firmly to his lips. Yami drew his lips together, clenched his teeth together as hard as possible, and felt hands at his temples force his head to remain still.
"I am sorry for my betrayal, my Pharoah. But you must drink."

Yami's only answer was a whipping shake of his head, and a desperate attempt to keep his mouth away from the toxic brew. What he wasn't expecting was the vicious blow to his ribs. He felt something give way, a sickening crack and he arched his back to wail at the blinding pain. It was all the leverage that was needed. He felt his body tilted downward, the chalice's liquid abruptly flung in his face, the contents dribbling past his clenched teeth.

He was openly sobbing when they forced the bitter drink down his throat, and tried in vain to spew it back into their hated faces. As if in anticipation from such a move, he felt a hand clamp firmly over his mouth, another hand almost breaking his nose from pinching it shut. Another hand, perversely gentle, lighted on his heaving throat and massaged the muscles in an attempt to encourage him to swallow. Yami choked the bitter liquid down, gagging and coughing as it burned its way down his throat.

He shuddered when he felt a hand lightly stroking his hair, and he started weeping when he felt himself being restrained again. To be stripped of all and any means to defend himself and at the mercy of such brutality had finally broken him. Isis blanched when she saw Yami's eyes full of torture, the hideous way his entire body tensed in the onslaught, and the whimpering sob that left the once regal king a wrecked, weeping carnature. Her helpers eyed her nervously, darting glances at her as if asking for direction, as she gestured for them to keep their restraining grip on the trembling king. "Do not fear.We only need to wait a bit longer for it to take effect, and for our king to be in peaceful slumber."

Yami's only answer was a strangled grunt, as he flinched under her cold hand, and his eyes blazed in anguish and mute, helpless rage. Amythist cloaked in fire.

Isis lay a hand on his cheek and he tried to wretch it away. "My king, I know that I have betrayed you, and that when you recover from this, my life will be forfeit. I only ask that you have mercy on my kin, as they have no responsibility for my actions, and know that I did this treachery for you and for Egypt."

Yami heaved a deep, shuddering breath, hitching in pain from his fractured rib, and shook his head, his eyes full of tears. His hands groped blindly at the blankets, before he gave a gut-wrenching whine of surrender, and futilty. He closed his eyes and went limp beneith their restraining hands, tears trickling slowly down his drawn cheeks.

A single tear slid down Isis's cheek as well.