…So I vanished a lot longer than I had intended. Oops. Well, to make it up to you guys, I made it a nice long update (mwah ha ha ha).

Before you start, I want to give a huge and heartfelt THANK YOU to everyone following/favoriting this. I never expected it to be so popular and the support it's getting makes me one very happy authoress. Thanks, guys! I hope I continue to meet expectations!

Vivian held out the violet colored dress, admiring the color and cut of the gown. It was one Mai had bought while in the markets that day, and she could tell that it was going to be a good fit for the princess.

"This gown is gorgeous," she cooed, giving it a little twirl to play with the skirt.

Mai was perched in a chair parked by the bedroom window, staring out below. Her eyes had not left the stables since she had returned to her quarters, waiting to see when Raphael would return. She barely acknowledged Vivian's remarks, not until Vivian set a hand on her uninjured shoulder. Mai jumped, turning. "What?"

"Are you all right, Princess?" Vivian's brown eyes were round with concern. "You've been distracted, ever since you came back from the market."

Mai recovered, offering a small smile. "Yeah, just…there's a lot on my mind," she said. She rose to her feet, taking the gown from Vivian. She stepped behind the changing screen, starting to change gowns. She caught sight at the now faint and thin lines on her newly healed shoulder. She smiled, starting to change into the new dress; it had been a shock for the healer to change the bandages and to find newly healed skin when there had been scabs before.

"What's on your mind, if you don't mind me asking?" Vivian asked her from behind the screen. "Is it what we were talking about last night."

"No." Mai felt her smile fading. "Raphael said something that's bothering me, that's all."

She did not have to look around the screen to know the black-haired woman was bristling. "Did he say anything untoward to you?" she asked, the barest hint of menace in her voice. "I swear, that man just doesn't seem to learn."

Mai groaned in exasperation, dropping her head so that it touched the screen. "Jean Claude asked me that too, and the answer is the same: no, Raphael didn't say anything inappropriate," she retorted. She sobered. "He warned me."

There was a long pause. "A warning? About what?"

"He said to remain on my own side and not to trust anything Jean Claude told me," she said grimly, pulling the dress over her head. Her voice was muffled by the dress's fabric when she continued speaking. "He also hinted that I might be under a spell."

Another long stretch of silence. "What do you mean by that?" asked Vivian sharply at last. "What sort of spell? Did he cast it?"

Mai peered around the changing screen with arched eyebrows. "Do you honestly see Raphael dressed up in full warlock attire, waving his magical staff through the air, merrily chanting nonsense as he does some ritualistic dance?"

Vivian made an odd sound, a mix between a laugh and a sigh. "No."

"Then he didn't cast it." Mai moved back behind the screen and pulled the dress fully down her body. "Remember the magic casters I told you about? Yugi and Yami?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" asked Vivian suspiciously.

"Yami mentioned something about a spell I might be under," Mai replied, stepping out and taking a seat on the bed. Vivian began lacing the back of the dress, tying it together as Mai continued. "It's just a little odd that Raphael seemed to come to the same conclusion that he did. Neither of them would have had the chance to share notes, not recently."

"Well, what sort of spell is it that they claim you're under?" asked Vivian, finishing her task quickly. She started brushing out Mai's hair, working on styling it into a loose braid.

Mai did not immediately reply, weighing her response. This was something she had been dodging since she had come back, as she knew the reaction she would get. She did not want to alarm Vivian about the potential of being under a memory spell, but at the same time Vivian was persistent enough to eventually drag it out of her—and Mai did not want the other woman to mention it at dinner.

Mai didn't want Jean Claude to know she was missing memories. It made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable, especially considering Raphael's warning.

"I don't know the details of it," she said at last, deciding on a partial truth. She did not know what sort of memory spell she might be under, and that was not even counting the fact she had no idea what she could have possibly forgotten. "I'd appreciate not having it brought up with Jean Claude, though."

"Why not?"

Mai turned, forcing Vivian to abandon her current task. "If I don't even understand what it is I'm up against, how can I expect Jean Claude to know what to do? He seems to overreact at every little crisis."

Vivian made a face. "He does, doesn't he?" she replied. She abandoned the braid and instead brushed her hair back out; it fell down Mai's back in loose, tumbling curls.

"Speaking of which…Jou's coming back the next new moon," Mai said, deciding now was as good a time as any to tell Vivian. She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "I took your advice. I'm giving him another chance."

The gentle tugging on her hair stopped, followed by Vivian's hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "If you want me to, I'll stay in the same room. If things get out of hand, I can be there this time," she said reassuringly. "I don't know what it is about this Jou, but I feel like he's someone I've met before."

Mai said nothing for a long moment, but she did not have to—Vivian was speaking for more than one person with that statement. A sudden thought occurred to her and Mai sat up straighter, forcing back the gasp.

Yami had said it before, how could she have forgotten it? He'd implied that the memory spell was linked to Jou's curse. She'd dismissed the idea before, as she couldn't draw a link between herself and Jou, but now…

There was only reason she would have a memory spell on her if it were linked to Jou, and that was—

…it was…

Mai blinked, suddenly bemused. What had that thought been? One moment it had been there, the next it was gone. She couldn't remember what it was she had been thinking of. How strange…it had seemed so important, and now…

"Princess? Mai?" Vivian's hand waved in front of her face. "You okay?"

She recovered, managing a smile. "I'm fine," she replied, shaking her head with a laugh. She rose to her feet and moved to the doorway. "Let's go on down to dinner—no use in making Jean Claude worry if I show up late."

Mai stopped in the doorway and turned back to Vivian. "One request, though."

Vivian paused, tilting her head. "What would that be?"

"I'm going to be asking Jean Claude some hard questions, and I need my focus. I know you'll want to ask some questions of your own, but I want you to hold off on them."

Vivian raised an eyebrow. "You just don't want me asking all the good ones."

"That too," she replied with an airy laugh. "Why don't you tell me what they are as we go downstairs, and then I can ask for you? Two minds think alike, you know."

Mai stopped by the window as she prepared to leave, staring out at the courtyard below. She had hoped Raphael had come back while she had been changing, but it seemed that he had not yet returned. Where on earth had he gone in such a short amount of time?

Ah well. That would be a matter addressed later.

"Jethro?"

The bearded man did not look away from the grindstone. He'd learned from an early age to never take eyes off the task when sharpening swords were involved. "Corda, you should be at the watchtower with Adias."

"I know, but…"

"Corda, we've gotten into enough trouble as it is. We can ill afford more—"

"It's the cap—Raphael, I mean. I can't find him, and I know he didn't leave the castle."

Jethro finished the sword he was working on, then looked up. "Raphael was in the stables last I saw him. Have you checked there?"

"I have. Princess Mai's horse was in there and fully saddled, but she's come back from the city. Surely, he wouldn't have left her horse in such a state," replied Corda, the barest hint of worry in his voice.

Jethro, who had been reaching for another sword, paused. "What about the guardhouse or the castle walls?"

"I've looked and asked, Jethro. He's gone—it's almost as if he vanished into thin air."

The statement made the older man frown. That was odd indeed. Raphael would have never left a ridden horse saddled and out of its stall. Yes, they kept some horses rider ready in the event of another visit from the dragon or the Thief King, but not a spent one. Raphael was not the type to simply leave a horse out, either.

Raphael would not abandon his post. Something was wrong.

"Corda, go back to the stables and unsaddle Princess Mai's horse. Get it taken care of. Stay in the stables until I say otherwise, in case someone else needs a horse saddled or stabled," he ordered, already heading for the guardhouse. Corda followed him, half jogging to keep pace with him. "Say nothing about Raphael's disappearance to anyone unless we trust them. If you're ordered to give an answer, you're to say he's ill. I'll see if I can get Faust to look for him, and then I'll join Adias at the tower."

Corda still looked worried but obeyed, hurrying into the stables. He disappeared just as Jethro entered the guardhouse. Jethro singled out Faust and explained in a low tone what was happening, and after one last moment of delay the two men began their search.

"Princess Mai, you look absolutely stunning! That dress most definitely suits you," cried Jean Claude, his eyes lighting up as he rose to his feet. He moved around the oak table and halted just in front of her.

"Thank you," she replied, curtsying. "This color always draws out my best features."

"Oh, that I can agree with. You're an absolutely stunning vision of beauty," he assured her, admiration lighting his features. He pressed his lips to her hand before Mai could stop him, and Mai bit back a grimace—why did men always think they could touch her without her permission?

Mai forced a laugh waving one of her hands at him as she moved to take her seat. "Now now, Jean Claude, flattery gets us nowhere," she replied. As Vivian took her own seat, Mai looked around at the empty room. "I'm surprised. I had thought you were one for large banquets."

Jean Claude's expression softened as he sat beside her, and he rested a hand on top of hers. "I was aware you were still rather shaken up by what happened in the forest. I had wanted to throw a large feast in your honor, I didn't want you to feel too bothered, especially as it took a week to recover. Perhaps in a couple days we can hold a large celebration, but not now."

Mai glanced at Vivian with some surprise. Jean Claude might have been a braggart for the most part, but he certainly understood what she had been through. She had been dreading the dinner, fearing that Jean Claude would have summoned all sorts of nobles the way he had on her very first night here. In a way she was grateful—she could ask the harder questions without fear of retribution.

Jean Claude looked over Mai's head to the doorway of the banquet hall and clapped his hands. This was clearly a signal, because shortly afterwards several servants began entering the hall with food-laden plates. The three at the table waited patiently as their dinners were plated and served, and only when the last servant had finished moving did they start on their meals.

The conversation at the table was light-hearted and jovial. Mai and Jean Claude would playfully banter, Vivian joining in every now and then. Mai told Jean Claude about her day in the market, though she did leave out any mention of Ryou or the three Enterrans. All the while, however, Mai waited for her chance to turn the conversation to her favor—she did have questions to ask, regardless of Jean Claude's cheerful mood, and she needed the answers to them.

Vivian must have sensed what Mai was thinking. She glanced to her lady, then cleared her throat to catch Jean Claude's attention. "Her Highness was wondering if there would be a chance to speak to Raphael. He spoke to her today—the conversation they had caught her interest."

Jean Claude blinked as he processed what Vivian was saying. He directed a sheepish expression to Mai. "Forgive me, my love, but I sent him home to the forest. His grief over Alister's death made him ineffectual here, and out of pity I felt it best to allow him to leave."

For once, Mai ignored the hated nickname. She leaned forward, frowning. "He left on such short notice? He was just here."

"He approached me while you were changing. I decided to take a leaf out of your book. He is human, after all, and Alister was practically his brother."

Liar.

Mai had watched the window since she had gone upstairs, waiting for Raphael to return to the stables or to come back out into the courtyard. She would have seen him leave if that was the case. She shot Vivian a subtle look and the black-haired woman gave the barest of nods—she understood the silent order.

She looked back to Jean Claude. "You know, I was just thinking about Alister today. I find his death a little too suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Although Jean Claude looked surprised, a very faint undercurrent of nervousness ran through his words. "How so, dearest?"

"Well, isn't it odd that Bakura would come so far out of the forest, come all the way within castle walls, and yet only attack a small group of guards?" she asked. "He normally attacks large cities and robs the castles in the chaos. I've never heard of him attacking such a small group before."

"Ah, but do we truly know how such wicked minds work? He was likely on his way to do just as you've said when he encountered my men and Alister. It's truly a tragedy that the man's died. He might have been too outspoken, but Alister was still a man of the castle. He was the best of my archers."

You certainly didn't help him any with that punishment. Mai bit back the retort, choosing silence instead.

"Besides, Princess, my intelligence reports that his band is only a meager shadow of what it once was. Perhaps attacking my men was the only thing he was capable of."

I sincerely doubt that. Mai hadn't forgotten how Bakura had manipulated the shadows into subduing a full-fledged dragon. Attacking a small number of guards would have been child's play for the Thief King.

"Even so, I don't find it fully plausible," she continued, "I know that the men with Alister didn't seem to get along with him, so perhaps—"

Mai trailed off, frozen. Her thoughts had just gone eerily blank.

She was caught off guard by the sudden way that her thoughts had dissipated. She blinked rapidly as she tried to remember what her point had been. She had been trying to make one about the guards and their involvement with…

…With Al…what was his name again?

Mai's concern increased when she tried to summon any thoughts about the archer and only came up with a figure obscured in shadow. He'd said some things to her certainly, but in her memories his voice only came out as a muffled murmur. She knew he existed, and yet for the life of her she could not remember him.

It was an incidence that had only ever happened in her dreams before…and now, it was happening as she was awake.

I'm losing my memories.

"Princess?" Jean Claude rested a hand on hers and gently squeezed it, startling her out of her thoughts. "What were you saying?"

Mai let out a shaky laugh and squeezed his hand back. "I merely lost my train of thought," she said, trying not to let him notice how frightened she was. "What I was asking was whether those guards could have—"

Another wall of shadow rose in her mind. She stiffened as the faces of the guards began vanishing behind them. From Gurimo to Corda, all began disappearing faster than she could process. All that was left was more shadowed figures, more muddled voices in her memories.

Fear began coloring her thoughts in rapid momentum.

"You know something, I just can't recall what I was going to ask," she said, laughing once more to cover her nervousness. "Maybe it's time for a subject change."

"All right, my dear. What else would you like to talk about?" Jean Claude asked brightly.

Mai shot Vivian a slightly desperate look when she realized that she could not remember the other topic she had been planning on asking about. While Vivian certainly looked concerned for Mai, it was apparent she wasn't going to draw any attention to the situation. Instead, she took from Mai's cue and spoke. "Princess, weren't you telling me about the craftsmanship about Jean Claude's sword?"

"Ahh, I see that you have more questions about my sword. What's on your mind, my love?"

Mai couldn't even acknowledge the hated nickname. For the third time in the space of five minutes, she realized she had no idea who she was talking about. She knew him as the master of the dragons, but his name, any who were with him, the dragons themselves…they were gone.

That was not all, she understood with growing horror. No matter how hard she fought to remember, she could now only recall Raphael, Marik, Yami, and Jou. Everyone else was nothing more than a figure shrouded in shadow, gaping holes torn into her memories—

And then Jou's face came into the forefront of her mind and her breath caught.

"Princess?"

No. No, not Jou…please…

Why is it important that you don't lose him?

(Why is it important that I don't lose him?)

Jou grinned at her, warm ruby eyes sparkling in the dying sunlight—"Mai…"

Jou, don't leave! JOU!

And then he was gone, swallowed in the growing darkness of what remained of her memories.

"Mai?" Vivian's hand gripped her shoulders. "Princess, you're crying."

Mai lurched to her feet. She couldn't process anything else around her, and when Vivian rose with her Mai shrugged out of her grip. She didn't know what she said to both Jean Claude and Vivian, overwhelmed by the powerful urge to run.

So she did.

Mai practically fled from the hall, pushing out the doors before she could be stopped. She did not make it too far into the castle before she stumbled into a vacant room. She pulled the door shut behind her, tottering to the nearest chair and collapsing into it. She blinked back tears, trying to control her panicked breathing.

She couldn't remember any of them. Not…not the dragon, not the forest and those who dwelled in them, not the guards…she barely remembered Vivian and Jean Claude, and much to her horror she was losing even that much of her memory.

Mai rose to her feet, pacing the room and struggling not to scream. Her breathing shifted into frightened sobs and she stopped at the window. Mai planted her hands on the windowsill and stared outside with wide, unseeing eyes.

What had just happened? How could she have…she knew they were there, but why couldn't she see them? What were their names, who were they, how did she know them?

Something clinked gently at her side as she shifted. She gave a violent start, frightened eyes looking down at the purple pouch at her side. Her fingers fumbled at the drawstrings and she lifted something wrapped in paper. Her hands were shaking so badly, however, that the object fell onto the floor with a dull thump. She dropped to her knees and unwrapped the paper surrounding the item, staring blankly at the gemstone she was holding before her attention went to the parchment.

Yami.

She gripped the paper tightly and her eyes read frantically over the note, desperate for some clue that would help her.

Hold the gem and say Priori Memoriam. It will show you what you have forgotten.

Mai gripped the gem in her hand. Without hesitating, she called out in a frightened, tear-filled voice, "Priori Memoriam!"

Blinding white light filled her vision and she gasped, nearly dropping the gem before she recovered. The light had barely flashed, however, when shadows leapt forth and darkened the room. The darkness pooled at her feet and swept over her in a cold, menacing wave. Mai yelped and shielded herself, but she was forced to her knees and something closed over her.

Mai could scarcely open her eyes. The pressure all around her was both achingly cold and fiercely intense. She tried to move but found that she could barely stand; she tried to right herself, only to find she was forced back onto her knees.

She made herself open her eyes. The room around her was pitch black, the shadows moving and writhing on their own volition. Shadows rippled along the wall, almost as if they were breathing; dark purple mist crept along the floor, looking dangerous to touch or be near. Her hand reached out to try and touch it, only for her hands to brush against cold glass.

Mai sucked in a sharp breath as she registered where she was. She was inside a glass prism in the middle of the room, one too small for her to stand up in—she was trapped. She pounded on it to try and free herself, but the glass was too thick.

Warbling, chilling, and cruel laughter began echoing through the space. Mai stilled in her struggles, the hairs on the back of her neck rising at the sound. Her eyes swept through the area but found nothing. Her grip on the gem tightened.

"Hello?" she called. Despite her fear, she straightened up and glowered at a point beyond the glass. "Hey! Let me out of here!"

More sinister laughter met her ears in reply. "Do you really think that I will do as you ask, just because you ask me to? A crown you may wear, but you have no power here." The owner of the voice seemed amused at her new predicament.

Her skin crawled. "Who's there?"

A part of the shadowy wall rippled, as if it were water. Mai's focus went to that point, her gaze following the ripples as they began to circle her.

"Who am I?" asked the voice. "A lesser man might be offended, but I know why you don't remember me—I'm the one who caused your plight."

"…You…?"

Mai tried to place the warbled voice, but nothing came to mind.

"Don't strain yourself." The moving shadows sunk back into the darkness and Mai squinted in the gloom, trying to find them once again. "You won't succeed in remembering."

"I asked a question," she retorted. "Who are you?"

More laughter. Instead of being frightened, however, she grew angrier. "I asked you a question!" she repeated angrily. "I'm not playing games, so if all you're going to do is toy with me then I'm leaving!"

"Leaving? Enlighten me, princess—how do you plan on getting out? You don't even know where you are, do you?"

Mai faltered, some of her bravado leaving her. "Th-That won't stop me."

There was a sinister chuckle and then the shadows slithered out from the darkness. As she watched, they began to form into what appeared to be a human. The voice was distinctly male when it next spoke. "A question was asked, so an answer must be given. You asked for my name? Very well."

She could see feet forming as the shadows began to solidify.

"I am the whispered vows of vengeance in the dark. I am bitter tears of pain and fear."

In addition to the newly formed legs there were now hands and arms, the beginnings of a human torso forming.

"I am the screams of agony that echo in the halls. I am the unbridled rage and the hopeless despair."

The man was now nearly formed, his hair flaring out into spikes surrounding his head. Color began spreading from his extremities and traveled inward.

"I am the blood that was spilled. I am the Shadows, the darkness that haunts your steps, the reason there are lights at night."

The man was now completely formed, standing out and yet blending into the shadows around them. He was an Enterran, his pale blond hair the most prominent feature on him. His clothes melded into the darkness, but there was no hiding the golden rod he was casually twirling. His eyes went to her and she took in a sharp, shaky breath when cold lavender eyes met her own.

"Marik," she breathed, shocked. "It can't be…"

"You remember him?" He seemed genuinely delighted. "You aren't wrong, not fully. I am he, and yet I am my own. Magic split us apart long ago, but now I do not consider myself his Shadow. I am a more powerful Marik, one who's unafraid to get his hands bloody."

He bowed mockingly to her. "You may call me Ishtar."

Mai recoiled at the fanged grin. "What…what are you?" she asked.

"I already told you, didn't I?" He circled her, almost seeming to slide across the floor. "There are no words that quite describe what I am. He and I were one, once."

The hairs on her neck and arms had risen again. A chill went down her spine at his voice.

"My life had been long in the making. The misery and anger that rose from the Ishtar clan was a foul stench that all the shadows could smell. The darkness was drawn to that little clan over the years…oh the suffering! The fury of the patriarchs at their fate! The despair of the clan! It was glorious…and little Marik's pain and fury was the most wonderful of all, because he did something with it. He created me.

"I stayed in the back of his mind at first, unable to fully present. The servant saw to that—if little Marik could see those wretched scars on his face, I had no way of taking control. That servant was useless everywhere else, but when it came to my freedom? He had but one use, and that seemed to stifle me. I doubt he knew I existed, and if he did it was a well-kept secret.

"Still, I could inflame Marik's own wounded heart. I could ensure those wounds were not forgotten. His hatred of the royal bloodline, of his own fate…how his siblings were treated…his own burning frustrations and anger…that I could use, and I did. It kept me alive in the two years it took to become strong.

"But then, that most wondrous of days happened," he continued, his face twisting into a feral grin. "Little Marik decided to fly and came too close to the sun, and Rishid was nearly killed as a result. Oh the flurry of emotions! He was so scared and angry, so frightened for his family and furious with the Nameless King—and the moment his scared hands gripped the Millennium Rod I saw my chance."

He bowed. "Thus, I was created. I'm quite sure little Marik has no idea I even exist, as in that moment I used his body. I remember the look on his father's face when I started stabbing him," he said, sounding wistful. "If only I could go back to that time…I still haven't forgotten the feeling of his blood on my hands, you know."

"You were the one who killed his father," Mai said, her voice brimming in disgust.

"Oh, are you actually sympathetic for that man? Don't be. Marik despised his father almost as much as he despised the Nameless King," Ishtar replied lazily. "His death is no major loss."

Ishtar heaved an oddly remorseful sigh. "If it hadn't been for that insufferable servant regaining consciousness, I would have simply taken Marik's body and used it as my own—as it was, I had no choice but to take the Rod and flee," he said, holding out the golden rod for Mai to see. "The Millennium Rod has its own power, and so it lets me manifest and take control of others."

The gemstone in her hand warmed. A small sliver of memory returned to her, and she straightened. "That's why he has a gap in his memory," she said. "That blank space in his memory was when you manifested! He doesn't remember killing his father because he wasn't the one who did it!"

From the back of her mind came someone's frightened voice begged her to run. Though the figure was hidden in a wreath of shadow, she had not yet forgotten the voice. "Then it was you…that night in the forest clearing, you were behind the attack on me. He…he didn't do it on purpose."

"Correct, my dear," he said, beginning to come closer to her. His gaze was on Mai, trying to gauge a reaction. "I forced him into attacking you. He fought back against me, of course. He's got one powerful will. I beat him out long enough to make him do my bidding. He was such a good little pawn—and you did the rest. You pushed him away and broke his little heart.

"Now, onto more important things," he replied, and with an almost serpentine movement he appeared at the right side of her glass prison, causing her to scoot away. "We have such important matters to discuss."

He grinned and began circling her again. Mai's gaze never left him. "So?" she said. "Get on with it."

"I've never met someone so impatient to die," he remarked casually, causing her to stiffen. "But you do have a point. Do you remember me when I approached you three months ago?"

For the briefest of seconds, the memory of lavender eyes boring into hers and chilling laughter returned. "I don't entirely remember that."

Ishtar's grin stretched. "Let me show you, then."

He waved the golden rod at her. The memory snapped into the forefront of her mind with enough force to knock Mai off balance, her head violently snapping backwards—

She's in a moonlit room, one she recognizes with a start. This is her room in Thystia. There's a large bed with purple sheets, a desk with a few odds and ends on it, her make-up table with the mirror, and other familiar belongings.

But her vision is taken up by the man who's pinning her to the wall beside her bed, one hand easily gripping both her wrists to hold them above her. The golden rod is being held under her chin, treated as if it's a dangerous weapon. It's why she hasn't called for help yet—the silent threat is a potent one.

"No one can hear you, Highness," Ishtar tells her blithely. "Don't call your lady-in-waiting—she won't answer either. Not until I'm finished, anyways."

She tries to get free, but she may as well struggle against iron. She glares at him, eyes narrowed. "What do you want with me?" she spits out angrily.

The man grins down at her. "A game."

"…A what?"

"A harmless Shadow game, dear princess. After all, outright killing you is no fun. A simple memory charm takes all the enjoyment out of it as well."

(…memory charm? wait…who told him to cast one on her?)

"No, no, I like giving my victims a fighting chance. It doesn't help you, of course, but it makes it more entertaining for me to watch you struggle."

He releases her. Something cold and icy holds her arms in place above her head, and when she looks up, she finds that her wrists are pinned above her head by what looks like rope made from smoke. What magic is this?

(i know the answer now. this is Shadow magic)

"You'd have better luck getting me to kiss a frog!" she snaps out, still struggling. "What if I don't want to play this game?"

Ishtar raises an eyebrow at her. "Then I kill you."

"…You have my attention."

Ishtar smiles, and then he holds up a spike-studded wheel. He rotates it for her, and she sees several images: a knight, a princess, a court jester, and a black-scaled dragon.

(the dragon…)

"This is how it works," he tells her. "I spin this wheel along the floor. Whatever image it lands on, you forget the person associated with the picture on it. You then have until we meet again to remember what you have forgotten."

Her eyes narrow.

"Oh, don't think this game easy," he adds. "You must remember of your own volition. You are not to use any aids."

(like the memory gem…oh. oh, that's how this happened.)

Ishtar waves the Rod. A group of faces appear around her. She sees her own wide-eyed reflection, but there's also Jean Claude and Ishtar and…and…

(warm ruby eyes that shift into brown, a lopsided grin and an easygoing laugh…why, oh why, is this one person so important and familiar? why can't i remember you, even now?)

"Let me guess: you're the jester," she tells Ishtar with a smirk.

Ishtar offers her a smile that's more frightening. "You'll forget anyone, and anything, associated with the person. Families, friends, kingdoms of one of those four people…all gone. And it won't be just you. This will leech into everyone around you as well. Whoever you forget on this wheel will be forgotten by all. It will be as if that person never existed in any of your memories."

She keeps her bravado even though she feels a thrill of fear that rushes up her spine. "You're thinking that I'll pick my own picture and I forget myself? You don't scare me any."

Ishtar does not look even remotely concerned. "Once the person has been picked, you have until I get bored of the game to remember them."

"What—That's not a time limit!" She's indignant at how blasé he's taking this game. "I need something concrete, pal, and not just 'until I get bored'. For all I know, you could get bored of the game tomorrow!"

"…Really now." Ishtar looked interested. "And I suppose you have a time limit of your own you'd like to suggest?"

There's a beat of hesitation. "Three months," she decides. That should be plenty of time to figure everything out.

Ishtar's grin stretches. "Very well. Three months it is."

The wheel falls from suddenly limp fingers, and it rolls across the floor with a clatter. It leaves spiked imprints in its wake, coming to a halt at the opposite side of the room. Ishtar strides to it, bends down, and lifts it. He studies it, then starts spinning the wheel on his own finger. Mai stares as blood trickles down his hand—Ishtar does not flinch.

"It landed on the dragon," he announces, smiling widely.

She doesn't understand what she's lost until the dragon appears above her, and she sees—

(You.)

"No!"

"Too late," replies Ishtar lazily, and then his face vanishes from view.

There's pain in between her eyes, as if there's a giant vise in her thoughts. It's ripping everything about him away from her, taking everything and leaving nothing but tattered remnants of him. She tries, oh how she tries to hold the memories, but it's of no use—

(He's gone)

The makeshift manacles dissipate, and she collapses to the floor as the world around her darkens—

Mai recoiled with a gasp, bumping into the back of her prison. She was breathing hard, as if she had just run for hours without stopping.

Now she remembered. She'd agreed to play a Shadow Game with Ishtar, and in turn she had been forced to forget someone she knew and cared about.

"I see you remember now," said Ishtar pleasantly, crouching in front of her. "You know, you were so close to finally recalling him. You were beginning to piece it together in the woods when you were with him."

She remembered that…she remembered looking up at him, in the woods with the sunlight dying around them, and he had been looking down at her… "Have we done this before?"

"If you'd remembered, there'd be no fun in it for me, so I created the rift between you."

He tapped the glass with the Millennium Rod, forcing her eyes back on him. "I do admit I finally got bored and accelerated the process, so that you started to forget everyone. I had to, you know—I knew you'd cheat once that happened and I was right. You used the memory gem, and so here we are."

Anger cut through her fear. "You sabotaged me," she said coldly. "Even before I reached for the memory gem, you sabotaged me that night in the clearing."

Ishtar's eyebrows rose. "You think so?"

Mai did not falter. "You knew I was playing your Shadow Game, but I didn't even remember it. You manipulated the game in your favor—you sped up my memory loss, and you caused me to panic. That's cheating."

Ishtar paused. She saw something flicker in his eyes—something unpleasant and dark. "You had best be careful of what you accuse me of," he told her softly.

But Mai did not back down. "I'm right, aren't I?" she insisted, fists clenching. "You're cheating your own rules, Ishtar. That means you need to give me a chance to earn my own victory—either that, or you play a penalty."

Ishtar studied her, frowning. The shadows around them seemed to grow in intensity, the cold air biting at Mai; the rippling darkness around them seemed to loom ever closer, almost suffocating in its intensity.

"Very well." Ishtar rose to his feet, tapping the glass. "You are correct. I will give you a fair chance to free yourself, from both this situation and from the previous game. Consider this a sudden death match."

Mai leaned forward. "What do I need to do?" she asked, trying not to sound eager. She had one more chance to get out of this prison, and to restore what she had lost.

Ishtar clasped his hands together. "I'll give you a time limit, Highness. Remember the name of just one person that you've forgotten, and I will set you free, no questions asked. If you can't…then you're mine."

Mai took a calming breath. All right…she had one chance to help herself and get out of this mess. She strongly suspected that Ishtar would not offer another or change the conditions—this was as good as she was going to get. "All right, I can accept that. One problem, though," she said, frowning. "How will you be timing me?"

Ishtar's smile was truly frightening now, his eyes glinting with savage amusement. "Like this," he said, and then he rapped on the glass with his knuckles.

There was a whisper from above her. Sand fell into Mai's eyes and down the back of her dress, and she let out a startled scream. She tried to scramble away, peering above her. She froze as she caught sight of the steady stream of sand from above her.

Panic crested through her thoughts.

An hourglass. He's trapped me in an hourglass. Oh God in heaven, how am I supposed to—?!

No. Panicking would not get her anywhere. Calm down and think, Mai, you've got time. Just one person, you've just got to remember one person…

But it was no use. The sand was already past her knees and beginning to engulf her waist. It seemed that as the sand fell, her memories fell into further disrepair. She could recall their faces and their voices in her mind, but she could not name them.

The sand was past her waist…past her stomach…up to her chest…

Tears began to well in her eyes.

"Ohh, you're in such complete and utter despair," said Ishtar delightedly, clapping his hands. "I can feel it from here. You're running out of time. I'd say you've only got seconds—better hurry."

Mai tried to ignore him, still summoning faces she couldn't identify, but the sand continued to rise. It was now up to her shoulders and would soon swallow her. No one would even know she was here, would they?

The sand was up to her neck.

From inside her mind, a dragon's roar suddenly broke through the clamor of voices and faces.

She wasn't in the hourglass. She wasn't in some shadow realm. She wasn't even in a castle, but in a dimly lit cavern, where water dripped from stalactites and a pool glittered with ethereal light…above, there was red lines of magma in a darker cave, steam and volcanic stone lining the passages…

She was looking up at a large dragon whose scales were as dark as night. It was one that had carried her off…and now it was writing its name in the floor, offering her an eerie but genuine grin…

…it was snarling and fighting, but it was doing so to protect her, and it hardly cared that the White Dragon was bigger and stronger, it was just trying to protect her…

…and now the dragon had changed, and it was a young man with shaggy blond hair and sparkling eyes. Cursed as he was, he was still human beneath the scales and talons and wings, and he was dancing with her in the cavern…he was tackling another dragon…he was flailing helplessly on a wooden floor, he was begging her to run before he attacked her…

He was dancing with her in a forest clearing, laughter in his eyes…

Ruby eyes shifted to warm brown ones, and he held out a calloused hand to her, just as he had so many times before.

"Mai…"

Just as the sand closed over her, she took in one last breath and managed a half whispered, half sobbed word. "Jou."

The sound of shattering glass reached her, and Mai's eyes snapped open.

The sand poured out in waves and Mai hit the ground, taking in lungfuls of startled but grateful air. As she looked up, she realized that the atmosphere around her was lightening, pushing the shadows back. The light grew brighter and brighter and completely expelled the darkness, and just before the memories slammed into her mind she heard Ishtar's furious snarls, though the sound vanished with the shadows.

With a rushing noise in her ears the faces of the thieves, of Yugi and Téa, Vivian and Jean Claude, everyone she had forgotten returned—she was in her memories now, she realized, because the memory gem was working once more and she had somehow beaten Ishtar's game—

The dream isn't a dream, not anymore. It's memories, all ones she's forgotten, and they're playing for her in a near endless stream, one she can hardly process.

(That's why it's important to remember.)

She's upset, because of course her parents don't listen. They're forcing a suitor on her since she won't decide. She's rejected too many suitors over the years, and now her marriage is to be decided by some stupid tournament! How is this fair? They don't care what she wants, they just want her married and settled as a trophy wife, and she can't stand it, she can't—

"I don't want to be married like I'm some sort of prize!" she bursts out. "Hell, I don't want marriage at all right now!"

Jou's features are sympathetic, but Mai sees a flash of pain in those eyes. Still, he reaches out to her. She takes it and lets him pull her down beside him. "Jou…"

"Don't worry, Mai." His voice is steady, and there's a reassurance in the smile he gives her. "I'll help you come up with something. Promise."

His presence is a comforting one, but she thinks there's something sad in his smile now.

(That's why it's important to remember.)

She's in a tent, glaring at a young man in armor. She doesn't like that he's competing in this stupid tournament, she doesn't know why suddenly he feels like he has to…

"I don't like this," she tells him stubbornly.

He rolls his eyes in a familiar movement. "Mai, when do you ever like my ideas? Remember the maze?"

Mai scowls at him. "I mean it. Why are you even participating in this damn tournament?" she asks, gesturing to the roaring crowd just out of sight of them. "It's not that important!"

"It is." He's surprisingly solemn, brown eyes serious. "Your freedom's on the line. The winner of the tournament is supposed to get your hand in marriage, right? Well…you already told me you don't want to be married, and I ain't gonna force that. But…I can make it so you don't have to marry if you don't want to. I win, I just have you visit me and then you go on your way, and we don't have to court each other. Easy enough, right?"

(That's why it's important to remember.)

She's sitting in the stands, watching the black-armored knight readying to face his final opponent. He's not afraid, instead looking determined. But she's worried, though. She'd heard of Lord Jean Claude's jousting ability before—people had been seriously injured, if not killed…

…she's screaming in horror as the spear pierces his armor, nearly knocking him from the horse. He's managing to stay on by some miracle, the knights around him helping steady the horse and rider—but he's done it, his opponent has been unsaddled. The helmet is off, and there's a collective gasp as the man on the ground is identified as an imposter—it isn't Jean Claude at all. He's made someone else joust in his stead.

Her father is instantly furious as he strips Jean Claude of his titles and land, vowing that Jean Claude will never hold a title of importance in his kingdom. Mai's eyes are only on the injured knight who's risked so much for her sake.

(That's why it's important to remember.)

She's younger now. The jousting arena is gone, replaced by the field that came before it. She can feel the spring breeze teasing her hair, the scent of wildflowers and fresh grass rising to greet her. She's beneath a large oak tree, watching a young girl playing in the field. She's more delicate in appearance, her auburn hair blowing in the wind.

It's his younger sister, not Jean Claude's. She's sick and frail, and Mai remembers spending many afternoons simply brushing the girl's hair or playing quietly.

(That's why it's important to remember)

There's other snatches of memory. A warm summer's day, spent playing and dancing in a local festival. A quiet starry night, where they're stretched across the grass and looking up at the sky above…there were even dancing lessons, she noted wryly, and the familiar feel of squashed toes briefly permeated through the memories…then there were the times where he comes to her, nursing injuries that she knows aren't necessarily from sparring with the guards…he's chatting with her gaily and offering her a plate of curry, which she declines after watching his eyes water on the first bite…

He's constantly holding his hand out to her. Over and over again, she takes it.

(That's why it's important to remember).

…and then they're both children and they're back in the maze, where she had seen him for the first time, and she's still wiping tears from her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," the boy soothed. He came closer to her, kneeling in front of her. "It's okay. I know."

"How could you know?!" she snapped angrily. "You don't know anything about m-me!"

"I know how unfair the grown-ups can be," he replied quietly. "They think we're just kids, that we don't know any better. That we're better off seen and not heard. It's crap, is what it is. Don't listen to them."

He rose to his feet. "As for bein' lost? Don't worry. You can always cut through the walls. That's what I do when I get lost in these things."

Mai stared up at him, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "But that's cheating."

He looked back at her, momentarily stunned. Then he threw back his head and laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Well, yeah. But if the adults don't play fair, why should we? Besides, I always find the direct approach to be the best one if you end up lost."

He held a hand out to her. "C'mon. I'll help you get back."

She hesitated, then took his hand. He pulled her to her feet, his grip warm and strong. He did not let go of her hand, and she did not move to take hers back. The boy began leading her forward. She let him pull her, taking comfort in the reassuring hold on her hand. "Don't worry. We'll be out of here in a bit," he told her.

"What's your name?"

The boy paused. "You didn't catch it earlier?"

Mai's cheeks tinted. "No."

The boy shook his head ruefully. "I'll tell ya again. But don't forget it this time, all right?"

He paused, grimacing. "On second thought, maybe I won't. It's embarrassin'. My dad didn't even spell it right," he admitted with a laugh.

"No," she insisted, "you have to tell me! I'm not calling you no-name."

He stopped, his grin faltering. "You won't laugh, will you?"

Mai scoffed. "Trust me. Your name is probably not nearly as stupid as my real one is—and no, I won't tell you. You can call me Mai."

"Well, Mai, that's not fair, but all right." He turned and straightened, puffing his chest out importantly and causing her to giggle. "My name is Prince Jousef and I come from the kingdom of Hermos. J-o-u-s-e-f. See? Stupid."

He waited to see if she would laugh. When she didn't, his smile returned and he leaned forward conspiratorially. " Don't tell my dad, he's the guy who saddled me with it, but I hate my full name," he whispered, and Mai giggled again. "So instead of Jousef…"

And now the boy was blurring, getting taller and older all at once. His skin darkened and his hands and feet turned into scaled talons, a tail coming from behind him and horns beginning to peek out from behind his ears. His warm brown eyes shifted into cat-like ruby ones, scales rippling underneath his eyes, and his smile now held fangs.

"…Just call me Jou."

Mai gasped and stumbled backward, clutching the stone to her chest. She nearly lost her balance, but she regained it quickly and remained on her feet. She was now surrounded by white light, with nothing in sight. Her knees trembled and she sank to the floor, reeling from the memories she'd regained.

She was supposed to have come to Hermos three months ago, after Jou had won the tournament. He had sent her a letter, however, one requesting for her to delay her visit. His father had died suddenly, and he was being given the only chance he would have to search for a cure for his younger sister's illness. But then Ishtar had come…

Jean Claude was not the real prince of Hermos. He was a lord in Thystia who had sought her hand in the tournament, and one who had been stripped of his titles and land after being caught cheating. He must have been the one who had gotten Jou cursed, then taken over Hermos in the wake of Jou's absence. He'd trapped Serena most likely, then Tristan. He'd made up the story about Tristan staging a coup-d'état, likely murdering Jou's best friend in the process of taking over Hermos.

Fury blazed through the disbelief. She had been used as a pawn in this game—if it was one thing she despised, it was being used. Jean Claude was going to pay for what he'd done.

A familiar and amused voice broke into her thoughts. "It seems you managed to beat the game."

Mai did not look up, instead letting out a rueful laugh. "You knew all along that I was playing a Shadow game. Am I wrong…Yami?"

When she looked up, it was to find the spirit hovering in front of her. The edges of his body were wispier than she remembered, and he was almost impossible to make out in the light. Even with how faintly he was appearing, she did not miss the way his face lit up at her question.

He chuckled. "I did. Any who hold Shadow items can see Shadow games in progress. The moment I saw you, I knew. Yugi knew as well, but he kept silent—we both understood that revealing what was going on would invoke the penalty game."

"And if you knew," Mai said with a weak laugh, "then so did Bakura."

Yami dipped his head in confirmation. "He did. That was the real reason he took you, as he'd hoped to lure out the one who'd initiated the game. The attack on Yugi in the clearing showed him that Ryou could be reached and harmed, however. That is why he's retreated to his lair."

"Yami, I remembered Jou's name!" Mai said suddenly, excited. "That should be enough to break his spell!"

Yami shook his head sadly. "While your Shadow game had a connection to Jou and his curse, it was not the source," he said. "That battle is still being fought."

"So what's the problem? You can tell him when you see him in person—no, wait, let me guess. You can't, can you?" she asked when she saw Yami's head shake once again.

"What you are seeing and speaking with is only the representation of the spell I cast," he explained. "Once the gem goes inactive, the spell will break. It will alert me that you've discovered the truth and come out on top of the Shadow game, however."

"Yeah, about that. Next time, do me a favor and just tell me," she said, irritation in her voice. "At least then I have the chance to brace myself. He nearly killed me, you know."

Yami's eyebrows arched and a small smile quirked the corner of his lips. "I did caution you, Princess. 'Using the gem will both enlighten and endanger you.' That was not an idle statement, you know."

Yami sobered. He was vanishing now, as was the light surrounding them; Mai could see the actual room through the other man. "You are not out of danger yet, Princess," he remarked.

"I'm pretty sure of that," she replied with a shrug. "Ishtar's more than likely telling Jean Claude what's just happened, and I'm pretty sure I'll be hearing about it. Don't worry over me, Yami," she continued with a wink. "I'm tougher than I look, and as an added bonus I know now what I'm doing."

Yami smirked, both he and the white light completely vanishing from view. His voice still reached her, sounding as if he was immediately beside her. Mai jumped as it asked a single question:

"Then what are you waiting for?"