The Sky Dancer

A knock on the door announced an unexpected guest from the other side of the room, the priest allowing the entrance without raising his head from his work. He cursed the inevitable interruptions that called for his attention, his decision to hire an assistant quite firm after the massive work piling with each passing day.

Priest Seth was currently engaged with an unbreakable absorption in the main studio, the lavish desk drowned in reports and volumes requiring his immediate approval. His persistent efforts to sell King Sulum’s properties and possessions had fortunately awarded him with a generous budget to cover for more than bare necessities. His next resolution pointed to the task of investing such resources into profitable results, a long and challenging process even under his care.

The pharaoh’s decree on the new taxing system was well taken by the citizens after several days of uncertainty and mistrust. Many traders and growers met with the sovereign’s cousin after he was assigned new head of state. Seth reinforced strategic programs and hosted banquets to meet with critical figures that could serve their country’s interests. The present lack of candidates brought never-ending assignments and tasks into his hands, the massive work stealing hours of rest and dumping a tormenting tension into his body.

Besides his daily responsibilities he also had to assign a proper tutor for his daughter, a more strenuous task than running a country.

Her brilliant intellect reduced the number of scholars capable of instructing her, while the members of the council found themselves too busy to offer any assistance. His engrossing schedule didn’t allow a moment of peace to enjoy her company, the pain in her eyes concealed under a supportive sentiment.

“Got a moment? I have someone I need you to meet.” Shada’s solid tone called from the entry.

“Who is it?” Seth asked, sanding the fresh ink of a certified letter.

Shada stood aside as he pushed the door slightly wider for the new guest, his voice asking the visitor to step inside with a discreet tone.

“This is Malik Ishtar, an accredited scholar.” The man presented as the minister raised his cerulean orbs in his direction.

He silently inspected the appearance of the man, an internal surprise bursting into his mind after gazing upon his young features. His eyes were sizable with a soft lilac shade, his sharp eyelashes able to reach his cheekbones after every blink. His looks were delicate, a handsome appearance of a boy no older than seventeen harvests. He was small in stature as he stood next to his fellow priest, his body surprisingly sturdy and lean for a scholar. His appearance was neat and clean, dressed in a simple tunic with a silk scarf over his shoulders. The fabric although elegant was slightly faded, something surely owned previously and handed to him for his meeting with the head of state. The shade of his hair caught his attention, an unusual worn gold pigment that reached the back of his waist.

“Come in.” The priest ordered after a careful evaluation.

The young scholar approached with a calm template, a respectful bow offered to the leader before thanking him for taking some time of his busy schedule for an audience.

“I believe Shada already informed you about the responsibilities for the position.” The man began as he crossed his fingers over the table. He didn’t seem intimidated by the monarch, something Seth took with attentive regard.

“Indeed your highness.” The intellectual answered as his lilac gaze settled into the eyes of the priest.

“Our candidate arrived from Khemet a few days ago, he was highly recommended by Master Shimon.” Shada mentioned, a previous student of the councilor himself.

“Shimon?” The head of state asked, confusion in his gaze as he tried to recall the present character.

“That is correct your grace. Because of health issues and my poor constitution I wasn’t allowed to enlist into Khemet’s army during the years of war.” Malik explained, a trace of disappointment scarcely visible in his features. “My master was kind enough to take me under his wing after a display of my magical skills.”

It was no wonder the priest didn’t remember the scholar, he was oblivious to many affairs before he was dispatched to the army little after his wife Kisara passed away. He could never thank Shimon enough for watching over his daughter and educating her in his absence. The thought that she had to face the absence of her mother alone was something that he couldn’t forgive himself for.

“Three years is a surprising brief lapse for a person of your age to reach the status of scholar.” The man stated, not hiding the fact that such skills belongs to a true prodigy if he was able to complete his studies in such a short amount of time.

Malik didn’t offer a comment or response about the fact, not wishing to cause an impression of arrogance or superiority. His driving efforts to dominate the power of the shadows were as arduous as a physical battle, forcing his body to perform and train beyond his limits to succeed in his practices.

“My daughter, as I’m sure they informed you, is a very gifted girl.” He began, the young man taking his words with gravity. “You shall perform under a period of test and follow all rules without exception while in her presence. Is that clear?”

Malik understood the seriousness of the post, coming to terms that no deficiency was allowed in the presence of the priest or what concerned his daughter. He remembered the brief glances of the child during his lessons with his master. Despite her young age, her brilliant intellect was a jewel in the scholar circles graced with an unrivaled beauty. He also heard about the rumors of the ruthless Captain Johno’s resignation of the army’s prestigious station to become her personal bodyguard.

“Yes your grace.” He answered while giving a deep bow. “I shall devote myself to the mistress’ preparation and delivered prodigious results.”

“We will see.” The man answered in a subtle tone, dismissing the scholar as he went back into his labors.

His colleague was in charge of putting any new candidates through the test of the millennium key, a precaution before any person could approach the royal family or members of the council. This put the priest’s mind to ease by the fact he wasn’t a dangerous person, only one test left to pass and that was his own approval.

“So, what do you think?” Shada asked after Malik left the studio, approaching his fellow priest’ desk.

“If he is recommended by Shimon then we should be getting decent results.” He stated, his hand moving at a practiced speed.

“I personally know this young man. I can assure you Kisara is in good hands.” The priest mentioned with a promising tone.

“Have you made the arrangements for the provisions delivery?” Seth asked, recalling the previous subjects he wanted to discuss.

“Everything has been taken care of. It seems people are finally recovering from the ambivalent months.” Shada mentioned, the evident exhaustion in his eyes.

“Yes but the hostility is still a problem.” Seth spoke while raising his eyes to his comrade. “After filling the absent posts we need to concentrate our efforts to show Khemet’s altruism to the masses.”

“A memorial service perhaps.” Shada suggested, “Despite the loyalists people didn’t favor King Sulum.”

“Yes but they don’t see their new sovereign with an agreeable light after the massacre of the capital.” Seth admitted, their victorious performance spreading a wave of terror.

“Do you think the pharaoh could make an appearance?” The young priest asked as his fingers massaged away the wrinkles from his brow.

“It’s too soon.” Seth answered after some thought, the clear unresolved tasks on his desk a clear evidence of his words.

He had made up his mind to summon his cousin to Nubia once they reached a stable phase. His performance was an absolute necessity for people to support him as new monarch, something he was sure his relative could achieve with his charismatic personality and noble template.

“It’s regrettable we have no candidates for a marriage arrangement. They are always a good solution to break tensions between rival nations.” Shada mentioned casually, conscious of Seth’s thoughts of his daughter’s engagement.

Seth couldn’t help the massive panic nestling in his heart, fearing his daughter would face the same fate as his wife if she gave birth. Her poor health and body had been unable to host the powerful Ka residing within her, ultimately devouring her life essence at a rushing speed after Kisara was born. He was willing to let his cousin marry anyone else rather than his daughter, the child still not showing any of the beast’s spirit transfering into its last host’s descendent.

The man raised his cerulean eyes into the priest, remembering the unfortunate episode he faced against his father when he suggested Kisara’s engagement with his cousin.

Nobles and loyalists of Sulum’s circles vanished during the war, the royal family lacking any survivals after the massacre.

Except for one.

The same pale complexion of his daughter and a pair of lilac eyes flashed into his mind after hearing Shada’s suggestion, the priest’s back moving forward into his desk as a plan formulated in his head.

“I believe we have one possible candidate.” He whispered almost to himself, a Nubian descendent within their grasp.

________________________________________________________________________________

The morning rays passed through the halls as the oasis’s humidity invaded the air, the calming atmosphere disturbed by the torturous and cursing expressions traveling over the structure. The few of the servants pacing around the hallways froze under the echoing moans of pain among the halls, upsetting the morning chorus of prayers inside the temples.

Scrutinizing pain broke from Atemu’s back as thousands of burning needles afflicted his body, Isis’ efforts to transfer her healing magic to the restoration of his flow made the monarch clench his teeth to a breaking point. The therapy sessions were no less arduous to the priestess, her eyes reflecting a shadow of uncomfortable struggle as thin drops of sweat slip through her face.

The millennium puzzle remained in a dormant state, a seal performed by the sovereign himself after the disruption of his powers. Until his flow was repaired he gambled his influence over the shadows and the safety of the capital itself.

Isis let her hands rest against the sovereign skin as she caught her strength back, the light in her digits turning a mellow shade until vanishing completely.

“That’s all for today your highness.” She answered with a slight pause, her breath a little short as she stepped back to give the pharaoh some privacy.

“I swear woman… I cannot tell any more if you are either helping me or….cursing me.” The young monarch reproached with a heavy tone, pain clear in his voice. His breath came short while his face soaked in sweat.

“I will now look at the injury in your arm.” The priestess answered after retrieving her vitality, disregarding the monarch’s comments while cleaning her brow with a hot cloth before disinfecting her hands.

Reluctant, he reincorporated his tortured frame into a sitting position, noticing the caked blood all over his hand and arm from his recent injury.

“This is a deep wound your grace.” The healer mentioned as her skilled fingers worked on the limb. “I will need to stitch you. You should have summoned me immediately.”

The handsome warrior turned his gaze into the priestess, watching her efficient hands clean the blood before a needle punctured under his skin. He could barely feel the sting, the nerves and sensations in his fingers almost non-existent after years of struggles and scars. His thoughts rambled back into the previous night, the unconscious beauty probably still lying on his bed as he stepped away from the room before Ra was reborn. He could still remember the mesmerizing orbs drowned in pleasure.

“You mustn’t use your arm, the new skin will be fragile for a few days.” Isis delivered after placing an ointment and a fresh bandaged around the sovereign, watching his silence and thoughtful expression with discretion. She turned her back over to her operation table, cleaning her instruments without offering any polite conversation.

Meanwhile the ruler dressed his naked shoulders with an exquisite silk robe, covering his sensual muscles as the dim light of the morning came from the window. Both turned toward the noise of a door opening by the entrance, the silent figure of Shimon approaching the pharaoh with composure.

“Good morning your grace.” He greeted with a reverence. “Did you wish to speak to me?”

“Isis, please give us some privacy.” The monarch requested, the young woman leaving her current task with a bow before slipping out quietly.

Her clear eyes turned toward the old priest as she passed by his side, the man returning her silent message with a relevant look of his own before the door closed again.

Tension dropped in the air extending a prolonged pause, both looking at each other before the councilor took a deep breath.

“If your grace allows it I believe I owe a deep apology for my actions.” The man began before he was interrupted by a raise of Atemu’s graceful fingers, his rings glowing under the shine of the light.

“You had no right to bring that child into my presence without my consent.” The pharaoh delivered, his scarlet eyes casting their stunning effect over the priest. “You understand the delicate position you put me into?”

“The child is no threat to you or your interests your highness.” Shimon explained, no regret dressing his words.

“You saw what he was capable of in his performance!” The man stated, barely raising his tone as his fingers pointed toward his chest. “A clear act of defiance to me! Anyone who knew who he was understood his obvious intentions!”

“I wouldn’t have allowed it.” The old priest responded, not disturbed by his sovereign’s disapprobation.

“And what about the assassin?” He continued with disbelief. “You can assure me that it wasn’t his idea of confrontation either?”

“Prince Yugi was not responsible for last night events.” The man declared, willing to fight to make his sovereign turn his thoughts into a positive judgment of their guest.

“What makes you so sure?” The pharaoh pressed, taking in the confident look of his old friend.

Shimon captured a deep breath before opening his eyes again, the information of the entire night’s interrogation still fresh in his mind. His long years as host of the millennium key left traces of the item’s abilities sealed within his skills. The spell exposed the young man’s deepest secrets, his noble intentions to reach the prince and enduring abhorrent conditions during his search.

“I was with the prisoner and expelled his memories. He acted by his own will in a mission of rescue.” The man explained. “He is no assassin, merely a personal servant of the prince himself. The royal had no idea of his whereabouts since the dominion of the capital.”

The pharaoh took the new information prudently, an unexpected hit of guilt born in the middle of his chest. The recollection of the prince’s painful gaze washed into his frame, a part of him refusing to acknowledge the gravity of his rushed actions. He had been furious after hearing the name of the prisoner escaping from those tender lips, a sense of jealousy and betrayal born inside him. Ever so slightly Shimon’s words began to cast sense into the ruler’s mind, recalling the prince’s attempts to stop the actions of the prisoner as he attacked.

“Why are you so eager to take his side?” The pharaoh inquired, his vivid eyes filled with weariness. “It is not like you.”

The question dropped like a heavy bomb, the eyes of the councilor opening in surprise after the mention of such fact.

The current descendants of the royal family became exposed to constant dangers and painful obstacles after they were born, his nature calling to look out for them and their interests since the moment he held them for the first time.

His best friend died in the battlefield and forced himself to expel his own son from the nation, the young prince broken by the loss of his lover and forced to face the world on his own. Seth shared a similar reality after enduring several years of his wife Kisara’s poor constitution, her inevitable loss leaving her daughter and husband behind and forcing the young man to face a conflict against an unbreakable nation. Even Kisara had to undergo the loneliness of her mother’s absence and his father’s engrossing responsibilities. Shimon had no sons of his own, his efforts and affection offered to the royal family member’s he counseled and protected all his years since Aknamkanon’s succession.

The old priest approached the monarch, a warm aura expelling from his eyes as concern dressed his features.

“Because I care too deeply for all of you, my son.” The councilor whispered as he took the royal’s face between his hands. Atemu’s fair complexion brimmed with surprise by the answer before confusion replaced it. “I don’t wish for any of you to endure any more suffering.”

Atemu let the words sink in, the noble and strong fortitude of his appearance faded slightly as his real age materialized. His eyes echo a deep misery, the orbs trembling imperceptibly while his back manifested the weight of his burdens. Since Taenea’s exile he didn’t give himself time to mourn, the suffering buried deep in his heart as he fought for the survival of his life in the battlefield fueled by the thirst of revenge. A deep regret sank in his chest before his hand raised into Shimon’s, the action bringing him to his senses.

“That is not for you to concern yourself!” His fury bubbled as his words escaped through his teeth, his palm slapping away the old man’s hands from his face before the monarch stood, his royal presence vanishing any previous evidence of weakness.

“You will summon Karim and pass judgment to both Nubian prisoners before the millennium scales.” The pharaoh declared, his aristocratic presence washing over the councilor. “If any of them fails the trial I will sentence both to execution and mandate your resignation of the council.”

The eldest opened his eyes in awe, the threat hanging in the air before the ruler stepped away from the infirmary.

________________________________________________________________________________

Yugi opened his eyes slowly, pain and soreness washing all over his frame as his consciousness returned.

“Ah!” He moaned as he felt the agony in every corner of his muscles, each bit of his skin tainted by purple marks. It took him several minutes of scrutinizing discomfort for his body to adjust, the glow of midday hours slipping through the lucent room.

Once he incorporated on the bed his senses acquainted the rich surroundings he found himself in. He had been oblivious of the elegant details of the bedroom, something worthy to house the powerful monarch. The apartment was dressed in luxurious tapestries, every wall decorated in gold and exquisite fabrics. The polish dark wood of the furniture spoke volumes of the massive fortune, the rare furnishing surely imported from other countries.

He also spotted the scattered pieces of his dancing garment, the beautiful costume ruined beyond any chance of salvation by the pharaoh’s doing. His naked body was only covered by the luxuriant sheets of the bed, the ornaments on his arms and legs still attached on their places.

The prince’s hand rested against his brow, the furious pulse on his temples causing a wave of nausea to disturb his stomach.

The indignation of the recent events caused a massive desperation to worsen his tortured mood. He felt destroyed as the pharaoh stepped over every chance of hope he could muster. His uncertainty and fear returned, the realization hitting him now that the monarch had nothing else to take away from him. He would make everyone pay for his rebellious actions, his country and his best friend doomed for his transgression. Yugi let his face sink between his knees as his arms closed around his legs, his heart sinking into a heavy repentance.

A careful knock on the door broke his somber thoughts, the teen’s eyes filling with a panic expression as he attempted to cover his nudity with the blankets. His heart was skipping beats as his hurried breathing fused with alarm.

After no answer, the lonely figure behind the door stepped inside, the shaven face of his trusted servant coming into view and resting over the sovereign with a sign of relief.

He approached the little prince with a humble reverence, his hands attempting to help him climb off the royal’s bed. It took a moment for Yugi to settle his frenzy heart, letting the slave child support his frame as his feet touch the floor.

Yugi almost lost his consciousness as he felt something slip through his legs once he stood, his servant catching his full weight in his surprisingly firm arms. He couldn't help the disgust after realizing what the fluid slipping against his skin was, his empty stomach dumping bile into the elaborate rug and into his servant's skin.

The teen apologized between coughing fits, the slave hardly taking notice of the substance on his shoulder as he bent over the floor to pick the scattered cape of the sovereign. He covered his master's naked frame before taking his arms and carefully guiding him away into his own bedroom.

The prince was aware of his own shaking, the long process to reach his own room slowed down by his weak and feeble steps.

A bath had been prepared for him once they reach the safe walls of his apartment. His second servant was waiting for their arrival, the little one hurrying to his side to help his brother guide their frightened master into the bathroom. The blazing temperature settled his cramped muscles and the massive agitation, the water cleaning away the dry blood and traces of fluids. His nails sank painfully into his skin as the servants washed his body, carefully trying to avoid the impossible marks around his frame.

Perhaps he had a disturbed expression in his face for one of them took hold of his hands and massaged the tension away to avoid scratching his skin further, trying to get rid of the pharaoh’s caresses still ghosting his body.

He couldn’t come to terms about the events that elapsed, the memories feeling like a distant dream. It was his own response to the sensations the pharaoh induced in him that provoke such distressing notions. Neither his father nor any of the previous men who corrupted his body caused any sort of response beyond the pain, something he learn to endure for his own sanity. Yet, the pharaoh had managed to awaken an unknown side of him, the revelation far too alarming. He would forsake his awareness every time the monarch cast his gaze at him, the power of his presence far too addicting and impossible to desist. The need resembled the sensation of embracing a powerful flame, the heat and the feeling essential for his survival.

His body fell into a latent state as his attendants dressed him into his own Nubian robes, the familiar fabric loose against his frame and helping him keep the much-needed warmth.

He couldn’t take a bite of the meal they lay before him, the prince oblivious of his surroundings as he sat before the window watching the hours pass by.

The slaves remained silent in the back of the room, their gazes truly filled with concern for their young master.

Even the prince didn’t notice the call on the door, his absorption undisturbed from the window before the familiar scent of lilies broke his fallow state. His beautiful eyes turned in direction of the visitor, Serenity’s worried expression faced his own while her gentle hands took his face carefully.

“Yugi?” She called for him, getting no response from the prince still facing her.

The girl noticed the slight traces of bruises on his neck under his tunic, her fingers exposing the skin carefully and her eyes opening in surprise after noticing the similar marks.

“Who did that to you?” She asked in a whisper, the prince covering back the exposed skin while his fingers held the digits of her friend between his.

Unable to get any response her arms embraced the little one closer to her, feeling the traces of tears finally slipping into her back and soaking the fabric of her dress.

Yugi didn’t know how long he cried nor did he give it much thought. He lost any knowledge of his surroundings, waking up and greeted by the rays of Ra in his window while resting under the covers of his bed. Serenity was nowhere around by the time he woke up, neither his servants as he faced the new day in solitude.

His stomach began to complain by the passage of hours, hungry and conscious he hadn’t take a bite to eat since his performance. It was strange the siblings hadn’t come with his usual trays of food or to change his outfit.

He settled into his window again, holding his legs close to his chest and letting his thoughts wonder into nothing.

A few hours later his door opened without announcement, the teen pulling his sight away from the sky and thankful his servants had finally returned.

Unfortunately he didn’t meet the familiar features of the attendants, but instead the stern gazes of two royal guards. The teen’s eyes opened in surprise, a terrible chill settling at the pit of his stomach.

“Prince Heba Yugi, your presence has been summoned before your grace pharaoh Atemu and the honorable council for the proceeding of your trial.” The man delivered with a severe tone. “I must ask you to accompany us.”

________________________________________________________________________________

The bandit fell to the floor with a dry sound, the white of his sockets filling his opened eyes as the rest of Mahado’s escort disabled the group of loyalists. Several were disguised as Khemet’s officials, the Nubian’s lighter shade of skin passing for Egyptian soldiers’ complexions.

The tall priest kneeled before the unconscious body, his sharp eyes scanning the prisoner and finding the ominous symbol tattooed into the loyalists arm. A deep sigh escaped through the fine contour of his nose, his burden adding over his shoulders after counting the fourth attack of the supporters in a lapse of the same week.

“Take the prisoners away.” His deep voice ordered with a firm tone, some of the soldiers containing the approach of the curious citizens after the persecution.

“We will double the patrols around the area my lord, I’ll have the scouts duplicate their efforts to find their den.” One of the officers volunteered, reading the expression of the man after the recent developments.

The priest straightened and returned to his stallion, the reigns held by a private of his escort and given to him as he mounted. “Stay vigil, we can’t risk lowering our guard even after their failure today.”

The officer gave a nod of agreement before the man kicked the animal’s flank, the masses clearing the path as he headed in direction of the palace. He took notice of the fearful eye of the masses, the impression loosing its effects after several weeks of Mahado’s stay in the country.

Seth assigned him as law enforcer after their settlement in Nubia, his new post taking a significant portion of his waking hours after the increasing movements of the loyalists. His spare time was used on the search of any possible clues about Isis’s vision, the traces left by the tyrant king hardly useful for his investigation.

The servants received their group as they approached the palace gates, his steed taken away once he dismounted. The structure of the palace finally displayed a significant improvement after their arrival, new banners of Ra’s eye visible over the building.

The priest headed for his office, the much needed quiet rewarding him as he closed the door behind. He decided to start his report of the new movements of the group before a glimmer by the window caught his eye. A beautiful beast rested patiently for him, the familiar messenger rubbing the feathers of his wing as the man approached.

Mahado unhooked the letter attached to its leg, the familiar writing of his pupil displaying his name and bringing a soft glim to his eyes.

He took the Ka on his way to his desk, the demon holding a firm grip of the priest’s fingers as he balanced his elegant body into a resting hook.

The man’s eyes held a soothing warmth as he read the first line of the letter, taking into account the several mistakes of his student’s grammar and a smile gracing his lips at the realization.

He remembered how brokenhearted she was after announcing his departure to Nubia, hardly able to spend much time in her company even in Khemet after Atemu’s coronation. After much reluctance she resigned to the new development, forcing him to promise to write on a daily basis, which even that he had failed to keep.

With half of the members from the council at the disposal of the new nation, it was still difficult to patch the massive wounds the nation and his people endured after decades of corruptive rule.

An ominous air hanged over the priest after the image of the tattoo on the prisoner’s arm came to his mind. The rate of criminal efforts remained high in the aftermath of war, people struggling to survive famish and disease. Lands suffered a terrible period of drought and their efforts to improve the trading industry were slow.

Loyalists of the old tyrant continued to raise the hostilities against them, their achievement of a harmonious cooperation taken recessive steps with every new attack.

He couldn’t shake the feeling away that perhaps it wasn’t the man himself that they supported, but perhaps an ideal goal he persuaded before his demise. He found several archives owned by the oppressor in his private studio, the sinister content filled with legends and descriptions of forbidden black arts.

The man dismissed his grim thoughts as he took a piece of papyrus, the fresh ink describing plain details of his current life and assuring his welfare to his pupil.

The beautiful demon took his message and flew away from the office after he finished, aiming into Khemet’s direction with a steady flap of its wings.

Mahado remained by the window watching the Ka disappear on the horizon, returning to his desk once more to his duties.