The original draft of this story called for a much . . . messier final act. We're coming up on the culmination soon (50 chapters was my original goal, and I'm sticking to it as close as I can), but this is a small story at its heart.

For me, anyway.

I think this new direction will prove better for everyone.

.

Isis kept up with Gozaburo without complaint or difficulty. She walked with her shoulders back and her eyes straight ahead. She had the bearing of a grown woman, of more than that, of an ancient being beyond linear time; but all that said, sometimes it was painfully clear to the Kaiba patriarch that she was—past all the mysticism and misdirection—still a child; like how she stopped to watch every stray cat she happened to see. She would smile and wave and make a little clicking sound with her tongue. Some of the animals responded, some didn't.

After just such one interaction, Isis was still sitting on her heels after petting a little runt of a calico when she said: "There are three men who will approach you at the next intersection. They will be dressed in casual clothing that matches their surroundings, but all three wear Paradius's emblem. They will ask you for directions. You know what they will do next."

Gozaburo grunted.

He continued on his way, crossed the aforementioned intersection, and then watched as a trio of tourists approached him: two men and a teenage boy. Masquerading as a traveling family, no doubt. One of the men even made a point to wear socks with sandals, a Hawaiian-print shirt, and he had a camera around his neck.

Just as Isis said, Gozaburo saw the green hexagram: one man wore an earring with it carved into a gemstone; the man's camera bore it instead of a brand logo; the boy had it drawn, like a random Ballpoint tattoo, on the back of his left hand.

"Say, there, friend," said the cameraman, in a folksy little accent, "mightn't you know—"

"Spare me the theatrics," Gozaburo cut in. "Kill me or don't."

The other man, with the earring, looked scandalized. "I'm . . . sorry? Hey, now, we're just looking for directions!"

"I'm sure you are." Gozaburo rolled his shoulders. "Go on, then. What are you looking to find?"

The boy cut in: "The nearest cemetery."

He was on the ground within the next three seconds, while his elders ran for the hills. Gozaburo Kaiba stared down at the child who wanted to pass as his enemy, grimaced, and stepped over him. "Next time," he said, "don't give me the chance to prepare. You're too worried about the cunning plan part."

Isis came up beside her impromptu companion a moment later. "I want to be surprised you didn't kill that boy," she said, "but I think maybe you're making a point."

"I kill when it's necessary," Gozaburo said. "Only when it's necessary."

"Mm," said Isis, eyeing him thoughtfully.

.

It was early, early in the morning when Gozaburo Kaiba returned home. Isis stayed near him, standing just behind his right arm, looking like she'd never heard of the concept of fatigue. Gozaburo wondered whether she'd even slept at all in the time they'd traveled together.

Shadi didn't seem to need rest.

Perhaps Isis was the same way.

Amaya was in the parlor, waiting for them. "And he returns from the hunt," she said, gesturing grandly. "Welcome home, dearest." She glanced over at Isis and gave a little nod. "You must be Isis. I understand you are resolved to assist us."

Isis bowed. "I am," she said. "Paradius cannot be allowed to complete its mission."

Amaya hummed. "I see," she said. "Well, my dear, if you are to help us with this Paradius cult, then you are welcome in our home. Please, sit."

She sat.

Amaya turned her attention back to her husband. "What were you able to accomplish, dearest?"

Gozaburo grunted. "I have their attention," he said. "They're sending hit squads now."

"You sound quite uninspired," Amaya said. "I must intuit, then, that these hit squads have been, so far, ineffectual." Gozaburo did not answer, but there was a glitter in his eyes. "Well, then. That's something, at least. We've shed their blood."

"They will strike tonight," Isis said. "They will bring more to bear than they have previously."

Amaya glanced at the girl and tilted her head. "Oh?"

"Your enemy is a child," Isis declared. Gozaburo pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket and showed it to his wife. "He is impetuous, impatient, and by now his pride will have been bruised. None of his agents have succeeded in making a difference through the use of stealth. He will try brute force now."

"What will he use, then, this boy?" Amaya asked, studying the little drawing.

"Magic."

". . . Excuse me?"

"He will use beasts and creatures from the shadows. You will be ill-prepared for them. That is why I am here." She held out her arms. "I have come to you, in the hopes that you will survive tonight. You are the best resistance currently available against this cult's aims. Until more time has passed, you are our best hope."

Amaya glanced at Gozaburo. "This is real," she said flatly. "This is what we've been roped into."

Gozaburo didn't react immediately. He took a long moment before speaking. "We will soon see what this means, and whether we would call it magic or something else entirely. The truth will be written out in the aftermath." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't like this. I hate it."

"I am sorry," said Isis. "I can only tell you what I know."

Amaya shook her head. "No, no, dear. It's fine. Don't worry about it." She drew in a steadying breath. "Well. It sounds like we need to circle the wagons. If this house is about to become a battleground, then it's about time we put some truth to that old metaphor. Our home is our castle, is it not? Let us ready for a siege."

Gozaburo nodded. The glitter in his eyes did not dissipate.

"We're about to prove our worth, dearest," Amaya said. "You know that, don't you? You understand that this is what we've been preparing for. Whether we survive, whether the Kaiba name retains its relevance, depends on what we do today."

"I know," said Gozaburo.

"Do your sons have their trading cards?" Isis asked. "You won't want them in danger, so you'll want to make sure they have something fun to do, even if you have to send them to a saferoom. It will help them stay calm."

Amaya smiled, nodded, but Gozaburo spied something in Isis's expression that told him she wasn't worried about their sons' entertainment; he decided not to bother with it. It was a solid point, regardless. Better for the boys to be brought to a single spot, flanked by guards, and have something to do. For however long it took him and Amaya to . . . do what had to be done.

Isis turned her gaze to meet Gozaburo's, and he could tell that she knew he was suspicious. It was the sort of look someone had when they were daring another person to say something; Gozaburo decided not to. He didn't understand this girl, he didn't know this girl, but all this time she'd only ever been correct.

Her guidance, as cryptic as it was, had served him well.

Whether Isis said things he understood or didn't, Gozaburo didn't think it was worth causing a scene; at the very least, he'd come to trust her instincts. Isis was young, but she was a survivor. She seemed fiercely, painfully independent.

She had the kind of independence that came from not having a choice.

The kind of independence that carved a lonely, frightened child into a warrior.

Gozaburo wondered if that was why he trusted her as far as he did.

Isis reminded Gozaburo of himself.