The Pharaoh's Champion

 Her eyelids trembled as she tried to prise them apart. Wherever she was, it was blinding to her fresh eyes. There was no source, it was infinite. Floating in a vast nothingness, her hair tickled her arms and shoulders as it weightlessly swayed around her.

 "Okay, time to find myself," she whispered.

 As her eyes adjusted, the light moved, as though unveiling specific sections, until she noticed something different.

 What the….?

As she approached, the figure became clearer. A young woman, bare and curled tightly in a foetal position, sobbing quietly. Hopelessness ebbed from her.

Even with her fuzzy sight, she could see this girl seemed to be covered in every scrape, puncture and bruise that she could fathom. The girl who cradled herself seemed beaten beyond recognition. Her face was brutally scratched and gouged, her limbs were all bruised, and one arm looked broken. Her legs were in an even worse state.

 Her heart shattered at the sight. "It's okay," she reached out her hand to touch her. "Everything is going to be fine."

 Her eyes rose to meet hers, eyes that were her own.

 She recoiled in shock.

 Scanning her body, she felt tears prick at her eyes. This poor girl looked like she had suffered for years. All these cuts, slashes, bruises. Some of these she remembered well. The gashes across her eyes blinded her in the desert. The bruising from sparring with the Northern Warlords, until she earned her fighting suit. Knuckles slashed beyond repair.

Her own skin had healed, but this woman still retained all the damage. All this time, they had suffered together. As the seconds passed she noticed more and more, patches of red-white skin on her scalp where clumps of her hair should be, fingernail marks on her temples and cheeks, battered feet covered in blisters and sores.

It was then she realised, this part of her suffered not only from the training and fights but from the pain she had caused. A physical representation of everything she had done to herself. Constant training, sparring. Self-harm, and grief.

It was a sobering sight and bile rose in her throat.

The part she had tried to lock away and forget about, left to suffer… all alone.

"It's not too late to save her." A voice came from behind.

Zhara slowly rose to her feet and turned. Her eyes travelled up, and up until they beheld the beast. Boring amber eyes, framed by velvety soft fur looked back at her. A luxurious mane that fanned his face, gave him a regal grace. His muzzle, which held a human smile, looked soft and kind.

He was both deadly and huggable, all at the same time.

Her head dropped over her shoulder, staring at the still crippled woman on the floor. She wanted to save her, she wanted to do that more than anything. To save herself and be everything she could be, and so much more.

 "How?" she asked with a whisper.

 "Embrace her. Acknowledge that she is a part of you, and you a part of her."

 Without a second thought, she drifted to her knees.

 "It's okay," she spoke soothingly. "I'm here now. Everything is going to be okay." Delicately, she manoeuvred herself, taking care not to hurt her broken bones, until her arms wound around her trembling body. Her sobbing slowed as she stroked what was left of her hair. "I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to find you. I'm so sorry for everything I've done. You deserved better."

 A thin, shaky arm moved to hold her back.

 "We deserve better."

 She closed her eyes, resolved to hold her for as long as it took. 

 ****

 Every moment in this shadow game took its toll on him. Card after card, turn after turn, monster after monster. It was all he could do to keep his head in the game. A dull ache throbbed in his mind, all he could do was focus on the here and now, that was the only way he could save her.

Yes… her. He battled through the growing fog in his memory. I need to get through this, so I can see her again.

"I've finally caught you," he howled with glee.

 Old memories slipped through his fingers like sand in an hour glass, memories he cherished became unrecognisable. The last thing he remembered was a dark mist closing in.

No, that wasn't right… The last thing he remembered was standing in front of a large stone tablet, reaching out a hand to touch it. Everything was muddled.

Still, he played on.

Friends, I have to help my friends. Yugi, Joey, Teá, Tristan and… and…

 "My, my Pharaoh. You look as though you've seen better times," their gazes collided from across the long table, the smirk on Bakura's face spoke volumes. He knew what this was doing to him.

 His head dropped into his hands, fingertips clutching at his temples, desperately clinging to his memories.

 "No… no," he repeated in defiance.

 "You managed to defeat Zorc in the past, it's a shame you won't remember how you did it."

 Suddenly, the feeling below his feet changed from the cushion of shoe soles, to the sinking sensation of soft sand. Lifting his eyes, he was met with a scene he vaguely recognised, in a time he felt was long forgotten. 

 H-Home?

 ****

 The feeling of the cold, damp cell came back to her.

 Her eyes flickered open, being met with the darkness once more. Before, she would have panicked, the cold of the chains bringing back the feeling of hopelessness.

 But no more.

 The shadows can hide a multitude of horrors, but it could also be sanctuary to the innocent and kind-hearted.

She was a low-born, Bakura was right. She was unworthy of his love and admiration. Unfit to be at his side, let alone receive his affection.

 But Atem had chosen her. Freely, and without duress.

Shaking off the inadequacy, one thing kept coming back to her; the best things in life are on the other side of feeling terrified, and she had now embraced her darkness.

"Keep fighting," she muttered to herself, willing her muscles to move harder. The chains that rattled and clanked under the strain, gave no weak link. "Come on," she gritted.

A menacing laugh enveloped the room.

"Why do you still insist on fighting?" he said with an air of annoyance.

She made no indication that she heard him, and kept pulling harder and harder. Moving her legs and feet for a better grip on the slippery floor.

"There is no point in resisting the soul shackle," another chuckle came, "besides, what you fight for isn't necessary."

Suddenly, Zahra stopped.

Her chest began to rise and fall more deeply than usual, trying to calm a jaw so tense that she thought it would snap.

"Necessary?" she snorted in disbelief unable to hold her tongue. "You have held a grudge through the ages, to fight for revenge. Who are you to tell me what is necessary?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "I fight in the name of the innocent, for the good of love and friendship. Tell me, Bandit King… what could be more necessary?"

With the anger building inside as fuel, she wrenched forward once more. Holding and pulling, like a wild animal desperate for freedom

Still nothing.

His laugh bellowed now, made more shrill from the sight of seeing her give her all, and fail.

 Atem, and his love, are all I need to survive in this barren world.

 From deep in her core, she felt something stir—something new and warm. As she concentrated on this feeling, it grew hotter and hotter.

 Now, it was her time to smile in success.

 As if sensing a change, his laughter suddenly stopped.

 "Wait!" he demanded. "What are you doing? You can't do this!"

 "You and I never really had the chance to meet properly," she strained harder on her chains. "But there is something about me you should know."

 "What?!" he shouted, the concern in his voice becoming more obvious.

 "When I am angry, I don't yell… I burn." She growled.

 With that, the heat from inside soared like a scorching sun. She felt it envelop her very being. It wasn't strange or painful, it was like an old friend embracing you after years apart, both comforting and nostalgic.

 The heat increased until the floor was no longer damp and slippery. She rose to her feet and gave a sharp yank. Under the pressure of her strength and fire, the chains peeled away.

 "No… no, no, no.' His cries became more desperate. "You can't do this, you can't ruin my plans. You can't break my chains."

 Standing tall in her cell, she waited as the flames that flew off her body like ribbons in a phantom breeze gradually subsided.

 She found the door in the light they emitted, and the two winds guided her towards it. She was certain that was the way out.

 With a voice of steeled determination and acceptance, she spoke. "You broke me first."