Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saif ran because he didn’t have any other options.

He’d woken up surrounded by men in what was clearly an attempted robbery, and in his disorientation, he’d moved on autopilot to liberate a knife from one and drive it deep into his throat. The other men hadn’t liked that. Even with his adrenaline, he couldn’t fight them all head-on as they swarmed him, and so he broke through and ran. “Goddammit, Marik,” he wheezed as he sprinted down the street. “This is why I tell you not to take us out at night!”

His host really had no self-preservation skills sometimes. He could only assume Marik had wanted some late-night dinner and hadn’t wanted to pay for a delivery, not remembering that there had been an uptick in robberies in their neighborhood lately. Their brother was going to have a heart attack when he heard about this.

A loud crack filled the air, followed by a burning pain in his shoulder. Saif hit the ground with a scream, and when he pressed his hand to the source of the pain, his fingers came back bloodied. Just his luck that they had guns. He scrambled back up to his feet and forced himself to keep moving. The men were rapidly gaining ground now, and he could only imagine what they’d do if they caught up to him.

He ducked into an alley, and one of the back doors to a building was cracked open, a dim yellow light shining like a beacon of safety. He went in without a second thought and nearly fell down the steep staircase inside before starting to hobble downwards. He had no idea where he was - he didn’t like switching when they were awake, but Marik had been panicking and had begged him to take over. But switching always left him a little woozy, and after waking up to impending violence standing before him, fight or flight had kicked in, and he hadn’t been able to pay attention to his surroundings.

The stairway ended with another door, but as he pushed it open and rushed inside, he immediately wished he hadn’t.

The room was nearly empty except for what he could only describe as a shrine pressed against the back wall, the altar covered in unlit purple candles. Vicious-looking spikes jutted from the shrine, which seemed to be carved from an ancient, black stone. Scraps of cloth and ruined sleeping bags were scattered across the room, but it seemed as if they had been untouched for some time. As he approached, muttering, “What the hell?”, he saw the surface of the altar was covered in carved text. As he ran his fingers over the engravings, he peered closer. “…Hieratic?”

The closer he looked, the more certain he became that the writing was indeed hieratic. Despite his understanding of the language being a little rusty, he started to silently read it. Most of the writing was too worn to make out, but he could read ‘ancient power’, ‘blood… worthy’, and ‘the Dark One’. Standing near the altar was starting to make his skin buzz with dangerous and wild energy, and he stepped back with a sharp inhale. Everything about this was screaming “Bad!!”.

Behind him, he heard a door slam open and footsteps scurrying down the stairs, and with that, he remembered the reason he’d come down here. He cursed silently and turned to get a good look at the room around him, devastated to find that the door to the stairwell was the only way in or out of this room. In trying to find an escape route, he’d trapped himself. He quickly pressed himself behind the door, holding his breath as it swung wide open. As soon as he saw a shoulder, he pounced.

Thankfully, he had tackled the man with the gun, and it went sliding across the floor as he started swinging, but that was where his luck ran out. He managed to land a few punches before he felt hands hooking under his arms to roughly pull him up, flinging him towards the shrine. He hit the altar stomach-first, knocking the air out of his lungs, and managed to twist around just in time to see another man charging at him with a knife. He raised his arm just in time to block the attack, the blade knicking his arm. He gritted his teeth, feeling his strength start to wane under the pressure of the man on top of him.

Saif was increasingly sure that he wouldn’t be leaving this chamber alive. Their brother wasn’t going to have a heart attack over this - he was going to be devastated. Blood trickled over the curve of his arm and dripped onto the altar beneath him as the knife drifted closer and closer to his throat, and Saif’s heart was sinking right along with it. He was supposed to protect Marik, and he had failed.

Something strange happened, then - well, a few things. First, the candles on the altar ignited violently, flames whooshing to life and burning so brightly that the man pinning him to the altar paused to look up, eyes narrowing in confusion. Then, the air became deathly quiet, so quiet that the sound of his breathing was deafening in comparison. The single light bulb illuminating the room started to flicker, and he could see something rising from behind the man, a massive black shape that jutted and spiked in unnatural ways.

The man turned to see what Saif was staring at and screamed in terror, swinging his knife. A massive black spike erupted from his back as it completely impaled him, splattering blood all over Saif’s face and chest. He watched in shock as the spike grew spines and segments that resembled scales before retracting, leaving the man to collapse to his knees. The black shape started to fill in with color, revealing a strange humanoid thing standing before him.

It was about as tall as him with a human-looking face and body, but its arms were shiny and black with wickedly clawed hands, perfectly matching the spike it had used to impale the man, which was now recognizable as a tail. Four horns jutted from its skull - two sticking straight up from the crown of its head and two curving out from the side, just long enough to curve along its cheekbones - and massive bat-like wings stretched from its back. It watched him with vague interest, its eyes almost completely bright red with black slits for pupils.

From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the remaining men scramble for the gun and raise it, shooting the thing twice in the chest. The thing’s eye twitched as if annoyed as it turned and swung its tail again. This time, the spines caught into the man’s waist and completely bisected him, his torso hitting the floor with a sickening splat. The last man left charged forward with a scream, eyes wide at the sight of his dead comrades, and the thing lashed out again, wrapping its tail around him to pull him close. Without a second thought, it leaned in, digging its teeth into his throat and ripping it out in one swift motion.

All the while, Saif was bent backward over the altar, watching it all. It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together: they were in a room with a shrine, one that mentioned ‘the Dark One’, and now a strange being had arrived to make short work of everyone but him. It was probably safe to assume that this was the Dark One. Heat rushed to his face, heart pounding in his chest as the thing eventually turned back to him, licking blood from its lips. For a long while, they stared at each other, the only sound the dying groans and rattles of the men. Once they stopped, the Dark One said one simple word that Saif couldn’t quite make out. “What?” he asked.

It paused, then said in Arabic with the same inflection, “Speak.”

“Oh. Uh… what should I say?”

“To start,” the Dark One said easily now, stepping towards him with bare, clawed feet. “You can explain why I was woken by such an exciting display of violence. It was quite delicious carnage, but also quite unexpected.”

Saif swallowed hard. “Well. They chased me down here trying to kill me.”

“Why?”

“Probably because I stabbed their friend in the throat.”

The Dark One laughed. Its voice was strangely both masculine and feminine, making its gender completely ambiguous. Saif couldn’t help but notice that the thing was naked, but scales covered the area between its legs and didn’t help to clarify in the slightest. “That would do it. Given that you’re the only one who was wise enough not to strike me, I’d ask you of your name.”

Saif frowned slightly. “Ah… that might be tricky. Not to be difficult, Dark One -” The Dark One’s brows raised slightly at the title, hopefully in approval. “We’re a system. Do you want my name, or the name of this body?”

The Dark One paused, head tilting slightly. “Yours.”

“Saif Ishtar.”

“Saif,” it repeated. “Sword. Although you seem to be the one getting sliced up.” The Dark One finally smiled, seemingly pleased with its own joke. It grabbed Saif’s arm and held it out to draw a clawed finger along the cut, its eyes drifting upward to the wound in Saif’s shoulder, idly examining him.

“You, uh… I didn’t get to really read the…” Saif pointed down at the altar he was leaning on, head pounding with fear and excitement. Up close, he could tell that the Dark One was gorgeous, its long, white hair spilling over its shoulders. “I didn’t know you were down here, and -”

The Dark One’s smile faded in an instant and it tightened its grip on his arm, nearly crushing it with force. The air grew ice cold as it asked, “You didn’t know I was here?”

“No, I was just running and found you.”

The Dark One stared him down, its eyes filling with utter fury as it pulled away with a growl. “What the hell have my followers been doing? Do they not understand that cults work the best when people know about them?” It stopped its ranting to look around the room, noticing the abandoned sleeping bags. Saif carefully stood up, his back growing sore from bending over for so long, and he pressed a hand to his shoulder with a wince. “…What year is it?”

Saif hesitated for a long moment before answering, “2023.”

The Dark One whipped back around to him, eyes blaring. “What?!” Saif instinctively glanced down at his former assailant’s abandoned knife, briefly contemplating grabbing it for defense. The Dark One unfortunately noticed, storming back to grab him by the throat and lift him in the air before he could move. “Do not lie to me, Ishtar.”

“I’m not!” Saif choked, grabbing the Dark One’s wrist with both hands.

The scales dug into his palms as the Dark One seemed to stare into his soul for a long moment. “…Twenty years,” it said eventually, sounding less angry and more distressed. “Almost twenty years since I was last called. You seem to have a brain. You understand the issue?” Saif nodded slowly, struggling to take a breath against The Dark One’s iron grip. Unceremoniously, it let him go and he collapsed to his knees, coughing and gasping for air as he grabbed his throat. “How did this happen?” it muttered to itself, turning away to draw a hand down its face. “Twenty years - my cult’s numbers were dwindling, I knew that. But now, no one? How did this happen?”

Saif couldn’t answer. Gods and demons and mystical beings had been the bread and butter of his and Marik’s education growing up thanks to their borderline psychotic upbringing, but he’d personally grown out of believing in this stuff years ago. It was all ghost stories and folklore and ways to scare Marik into line when the screaming and threats of whipping didn’t work. He looked up and saw the Dark One towering over him, scales crawling up its legs and fading just above its knees, its wings flicking and contracting almost like it was fidgeting with them, and knew that this was definitely real. Real and massive and utterly capable of destroying him with a single gesture.

“Are you blushing?”

Saif blinked. The Dark One had turned back to him, its expression now dumbfounded as it stared down at him. He cleared his throat and stood, shaking his head. “No, uh - just didn’t… think this stuff was real.”

The Dark One snorted. “Of course not. Humans have grown more skeptical as time has gone on. Hence the cult. But I think you’ve given me a perfect place to -”

A bouncy pop song started to play from Saif’s back pocket and he paled, fumbling around to pull out Marik's phone. “Damn it - I have to take this.” The Dark One sighed dramatically and stepped behind Saif to take a seat on top of the altar as he accepted the call. “It’s Saif.”

“Where are you?” Rishid, their brother, didn’t bother saying hello. “I came by to check on you and Marik and you’re not home.”

“I, uh… it’s a long story. Marik decided he needed some snacks, I guess. Some guys held us up in an alley.”

“Are you alright?”

Saif glanced at his shoulder and frowned. It didn’t hurt much anymore, but it wasn’t something he could easily explain. “They shot me.”

“They shot - Saif, where are you?”

“Heading to the hospital right now. I can meet you there.” Saif glanced back at the Dark One. It was watching him, one leg crossed over the other as a small frown settled on its face. Once he’d hung up his phone, he said, “Sorry. But I should probably have someone look at this hole in my shoulder.”

The Dark One looked around at the bodies splayed on the floor. “Well. A proper guest would help clean up, but I understand human bodies have limitations. These men will be satisfactory sacrifices for now. You will return here - I’m not done with you yet.”

Saif swallowed hard. “…Alright. Fair enough.” The Dark One remained seated, watching Saif as he shuffled to the door, pulling up his map application. He wasn’t too far from the hospital - he could easily get there within ten minutes. He offered the Dark One one last glance backward before stepping through the door, which slammed shut behind him.

Chapter Text

When Saif arrived at the hospital, he felt exhausted. Fatigue weighed down his legs and body, and he was grateful to see Rishid standing outside. Rishid ran to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to support him. “Saif - you’re covered in blood,” Rishid pointed out. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

Saif laughed weakly. “Sorry. To be fair, he came at us with a knife.”

Rishid sighed, brows creasing in worry as he helped Saif towards the hospital. “Self-defense. They’ll most likely call the police.”

“I don’t know if I can remember where it happened,” Saif confessed quietly as they entered the sterile-looking waiting room. “There were four of ‘em. I ran after…”

“Okay.” Rishid helped him sit down and went to the desk to check in. Saif settled into the chair, sighing and closing his eyes. He was the unfortunate kind of tired where his head started to spin, making his stomach churn. Rishid eventually returned to him, hugging him again. “Are you going to go?” he asked quietly.

“’M hanging on,” Saif mumbled, but it was getting increasingly hard to focus. “I’ll let you know.”

“Tell me what happened just in case.”

If Saif could appreciate anything about Rishid, it was how easily he had stepped in as their advocate. It had taken years for them to get to this point; Rishid had been understandably cautious around Saif for a long time, and although Saif could understand why, it had taken nearly as long for him to stop being resentful. “I woke up in the alley,” Saif recalled, the events of the night playing back in his mind. “There were four guys. One came at me, I, uh…” He couldn’t help himself from making a throat-slitting gesture with his thumb. “And then I ran. I must’ve lost them at some point,” he lied. He very well couldn’t explain to Rishid how he’d found the Dark One sealed away in a random basement and it had killed his assailants.

A nurse finally called them back, and as they rose to follow him to an observation table, Saif told Rishid what little he remembered of the men’s appearances. He knew the police probably wouldn’t find them, but he needed to pretend to be normal, especially once the nurse started examining him and asked about pre-existing conditions. Rishid waited for Saif to nod in permission before explaining, “My brother has dissociative identity disorder. This is Saif, but his ID will say Marik.” The nurse eyed them skeptically but got to work cleaning the bullet wound. All the while, Saif’s resistance was waning, his head bobbing as he tried to stay awake. “It’s alright, Saif,” Rishid said gently. “I can take it from here.”

Saif couldn’t help but grimace. Rishid being here would help, certainly, but he knew that Marik was going to be upset. Still, he closed his eyes and pulled back. He’d hear about the consequences later.

Marik slowly woke to the sounds of muttered conversation and the steady beeping of machinery. His head swimming, he groaned, then yelped as he felt a horrible, stinging pain in his shoulder, flailing with a screamed, “Stop!”

“Marik!” The sound of Rishid’s voice cut through the confusion and the fog, and he opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by fluorescent lights. A nurse was staring down at him in utter confusion, and Rishid was sitting next to him, taking gentle hold of his arm. “It’s alright.”

“Rishid?” Marik squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to think. He was well used to the confusion of waking up after a switch. He just needed to remember what had caused it.

“He’ll be alright,” he heard Rishid say presumably to the nurse. “I told you. This is Marik now. Marik, Saif said that you were attacked.”

As soon as Rishid said the words, Marik remembered. “Yeah, I… I’m so sorry,” he said, the gravity of the night’s events hitting him like a brick. Someone waves him over into an alley, and he goes, assuming it’s someone who needs help with something. A man, standing in the darkness, suddenly joined by three more that surround him and pull out knives, demanding his money. “I got home late and didn’t have anything for dinner, so… I went out… Saif’s been saying not to go out alone but I was just going down the street…”

“They shot you.” Marik sniffled, pressing his hands against his eyes as they started to burn. “Saif brought you here.”

“Mr. Ishtar, I need to finish disinfecting your injury,” the nurse chimed in, voice trying to sound assuring. Marik nodded and straightened back up, unable to hold back a whimper as the nurse started pressing antiseptic on his injury again. “We’ll also need -”

“Marik!”

He flinched at the sound of a woman calling out to him and the clicking of heels approaching their stall. He looked wide-eyed at Rishid and asked, “You called Ishizu?”

“You were shot, Marik. Of course I called her.”

Ishizu nearly passed right by before stopping, staring at Marik for a second. “Are you alright?” she asked as she pushed into the stall, followed by another nurse who was trying to call her back to no avail.

“It’s alright,” Rishid said, standing up to stop the second nurse. “She’s our sister.”

“Aside from being shot? I mostly just feel stupid,” Marik joked weakly, his voice cracking with emotion. He was fully aware of how lucky he was that it wasn’t worse than a quick visit to the hospital. “I forgot to get groceries this morning. I just needed dinner.”

“You could have called us,” Ishizu chided, taking his free hand before she paused. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she said a bit more gently.

“I’ll need to do stitches,” the nurse said as he pulled back, reaching for a suture kit on the tray beside him. “As I was saying, we’ll need to file a report with the police since you were injured as a result of criminal activity.”

Marik paled slightly. “No,” he said, heart starting to race. “No police.”

“I don’t have a choice, Mr. Ishtar. I have to report this.” Marik slumped in the bed, hissing in pain as the nurse started to stitch up his shoulder.

The police came just as the nurse was finishing up: two officers, both men, who seemed relatively bored as they sat in a private examination room. “Tell us what happened,” one of the officers said, his notepad in hand.

“Marik went out for groceries -” Rishid started.

The other officer abruptly cut him off and said, “Let Mr. Ishtar answer, please.”

Marik took a deep breath. “Well… there’s not much I can tell you. I went out to get dinner, some men pulled me into an alley. They had knives. They told me to give them my money, and that’s when Saif took over.”

“Who’s Saif?”

“My alter. I have dissociative identity disorder. I can’t tell you what happened next, but he told Rishid everything before he gave me back control.”

The officers looked at each other. “Right,” the first one said, thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. “And what did this ‘Saif’ say happened?”

Rishid frowned. “He fought back, but they outnumbered him, so he ran. One of them shot him, but he hid until they lost his trail.”

“How many were there?”

“Four, but…” Rishid glanced at Marik apologetically. “Saif said that he attacked one of them in self-defense. He didn’t get a good look of where it happened.”

“It was just a few blocks from my apartment,” Marik recalled, his head starting to hurt. “I could show you.”

“Alright. Once the hospital clears you, we’ll take a ride.” The officers stood and departed the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Marik buried his head in his hands. “He killed them, didn’t he?”

“He made it sound like just one of them.”

Marik couldn’t hold back the tears this time. “I can’t do this again, akhy. It was horrible enough the first time.”

Rishid leaned over to hug him tightly. “It’ll be alright.”

Once Marik was cleared to leave, the officers dismissed Rishid and loaded Marik into their cruiser. Marik’s heart sank as they pulled up to a familiar alley and saw a body lying on the cement. “Dammit,” the second officer groaned, reaching for the radio. “'Fought back', my ass. I don’t need to ask if that’s one of the men who tried to rob you, do I?”

Marik slowly shook his head. “If you’re going to take me to the station, I need you to call my case worker.”

“Yeah, because a guy that lives in your head did this, right?” The first officer huffed, shaking his head.

Marik’s fingers dug into his knees. “You don’t need to believe me,” he said sharply. “Call my case worker.”

They waited until more officers and medical examiners arrived and briefed them on everything before taking him to the police station and setting him up in an observation room. Marik rested his head on the table, ready to fall asleep right there before the door opened and his case worker, Zahida Al-Amin, walked in, followed by his family’s lawyer, Nizar Tawfiq. “Are you alright?” Zahida asked immediately, sitting down and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry for the late hour,” Marik said, looking between her and Nizar. “Is this going to be bad?”

Nizar sighed, crossing his arms. “One case of murder in self-defense is understandable. The second time it happens… it’s not a good look.”

“It was my fault,” Marik started, shaking his head. “I went out -”

“Not another word, Marik. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.”

Thankfully, the police let him go after not even half an hour of questioning, thanks to Nizar and Zahida. Rishid came by to drive him home and decided to stay the night just in case, making himself as comfortable as he could on the sofa while Marik stripped, cleaned himself off, and passed out in his bed. It had taken a long time for Marik to feel comfortable enough to live alone; years to save up money from his job at a local mechanic’s shop, and years of therapy for him to feel safe enough to trust Saif. All things considered, they’d been adjusting well.

The next morning, one of the officers came by to let him know they’d managed to get security footage from a nearby business. “It caught everything. The men who tried to rob you definitely attacked first,” he said gruffly. “We already talked to your lawyer. We’ll let you know the trial date, but with that footage, it’ll be a quick case. We’re still looking for the other men that attacked you.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry about this mess.”

“Just try to stay out of trouble from here on out.”

Marik closed the door with a sigh, resting his forehead against the wood. “He was trying to protect you,” Rishid said as he made them both some coffee. “But I wish he’d find ways to do it that don’t involve bloodshed.”

“Me too. Remind me to send Ishizu flowers for keeping Nizar as our lawyer.” Marik pulled back from the door, his stomach growling almost painfully. After the night’s events, he’d forgotten that he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime the previous day. “…I’m going to order some koshary. Want any?”

“Sure,” Rishid said with a little smile. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

Nizar called as they finished eating. “Your record’s still sealed, but it’s best if you both lay low for a while,” he explained. “And we should get a statement from Saif just to be careful.”

“I’ll let him know. Thank you for everything, Nizar.”

“Just try not to get in trouble at two in the morning again. Take care, kid.”

Marik bristled slightly. He may have only been eleven when he’d first met Nizar, but he was twenty-two now - definitely not a kid anymore. Rishid stayed to help clean up the apartment before heading off to work, and Zahida called shortly afterward to check in on him. “I know this must be difficult to go through again,” she said apologetically. “I can contact your therapist if you need to talk about it.”

“I can do it myself. Thank you, Zahida.” He hung up the phone and stared down at it before retreating to his room to journal out his thoughts. He couldn’t help but be a little frustrated. Just when he thought that things were going well and he could try to live a normal life, something happened to throw their lives into complete chaos. He couldn’t blame Saif for it, though; Marik had made him as a protector and, as Rishid had pointed out, he had only been doing his job. If Marik was going to count his blessings, he could be thankful that Saif had only killed one of the robbers.

Once his hand started to cramp up, he set down his pen and checked the time. It was still early enough that he could go to the grocery store before night fell. He got dressed somewhat casually and headed to the bathroom, but as he washed his hands, he looked into the mirror and noticed something: a giant, hand-shaped bruise on his throat. He gingerly touched it, and something flashed through his head - images of black and shiny scales, words written in hieratic that he couldn’t quite make out, and two burning red eyes staring into him.

He gasped, leaning over his sink. What the hell was that? His head spun slightly, Saif stirring to the surface in concern. “It’s fine,” Marik said out loud, turning on the faucet to splash some water on his face. “But you’ll need to tell us what happened.”

Saif went quiet inside of his head, and Marik sighed before departing the bathroom and grabbing a high-necked shirt. All he could do now was wait.

Chapter Text

Saif kept his wits about him as he left the apartment. It had been a few days since the attack, and the investigation was well underway. The cops had been by to get his take on things, not even bothering to hide their disbelief over the fact that he and Marik were an honest-to-god system. He felt a little bad over it all; it had been self-defense and utterly justifiable - the fact that they’d been shot helped their case, unfortunate as it was - but that it had escalated so badly had to have been hell for Marik. Everyone was expecting them to get a slap on the wrist at most, so he could only hope this would blow over soon.

But Saif wasn’t concerned about that right now. The Dark One hadn’t so much demanded he return as it had told him to, and he didn’t want to find out if disobeying would have any worse consequences than going to jail. It took a while for him to find the door again, but once he spotted it, he stopped short, taking a deep breath. Hopefully, it wasn’t too angry.

To his surprise, the shrine room was empty. The sleeping bags were gone, as was most of the evidence of the slaughter that had occurred here. The only thing out of the ordinary was a word written on the wall in blood with an arrow pointing to the altar. “THE BLOOD OF THE WORTHY,” the words said. Saif followed the arrow down to see a knife sitting on the surface, the same one a man had tried to murder him with a few nights before. “You’re kidding me,” Saif said.

But it made a bit of sense when he thought back on it. The words engraved on the altar had mentioned blood, and the Dark One had only appeared after he’d been cut. Saif grabbed the knife and stared down at it for a second before lifting it and cutting it into the pad of his thumb. The knife was sharp, so it didn’t even hurt aside from a light sting, and he held his hand out over the altar and squeezed blood onto the surface.

Just like last time, the candles lit themselves, the air growing cold and quiet, and Saif held his breath as he felt a presence behind him. “Well,” the Dark One said almost pleasantly. “Welcome back, Ishtar. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I’ve… been busy. Legal issues over those guys - where’d they go?” Saif asked, turning towards it.

The Dark One just smiled, showing off sharpened canine teeth. “I accepted them as sacrifices. They were a bit stringy, but it was still quite a meal you left me.”

“You ate them?”

“What would you rather I have done, left their corpses to stink up the place?” The Dark One scoffed, crossing its arms. “I have far too much pride for that. But it works out perfectly - I have a job for you.”

“Listen, Dark One, I appreciate your help the other night -”

“Deny me this and you’ll join them, Ishtar.” Saif stopped, glancing up at the Dark One. Its eyes seemed to flare slightly, its tail flicking in a somewhat agitated manner behind it. “I do not give out favors freely. You must prove that you’ve earned it.”

Saif swallowed hard. He had kind of hoped it would be as easy as a gentle rejection. “…Alright. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Much better.” The Dark One reached out to stroke his cheek with a clawed thumb. “There’s hope for you yet.” Saif’s heart skipped a beat as it continued, “My previous cult, well-intentioned as they were, accidentally bound me to this shrine. Free me, and I’ll be able to go somewhere a bit more… welcoming. I’d consider your debt paid, and you’d be free of me.”

Saif nodded slowly. “So, an unbinding ritual?”

The Dark One’s smile widened affectionately. “Look at you! I knew you were a smart one. Yes. A book of ancient rituals was written thousands of years ago. It’s considered a historical artifact these days. Find the unbinding ritual and get me the hell out of here. Easy enough, right?”

“Alright. Consider it done.”

The Dark One let him go with a pleased purring sound. “The sooner the better, Ishtar,” it said with fake, cloying sweetness. “Try not to leave me waiting too long, hm?”

“Of course.”

The Dark One stepped back and dissipated into smoke, the candles on the altar flickering out. Saif sighed, turning back to the altar and placing the knife on the surface. His hands were shaking slightly. He knew without a doubt that the Dark One was lying; he’d heard something similar many times before. Empty promises had been their father’s main method of manipulation growing up: memorize the texts and I’ll let Ishizu take you to the market. Follow the prayers and Rishid can join you for your birthday dinner. Utter bullshit that got Marik slapped and locked in his room if he tried to cash in on it.

He pushed his doubts down as he ascended the stairs. All he could do was hope that there would be a way to get him out of this mess without the Dark One realizing it. But in the meantime, he knew exactly where to look first: the local museum.

He was never a fan of museums, honestly. History had never captivated him the way it had Ishizu, so he wandered idly, staring at ancient papyri and taking a moment to appreciate some old, hand-carved statues. Deep in the building, however, he came upon a book encased in glass and started to read the placard attached with mild curiosity. It was some kind of documentation written by priests thousands of years ago regarding heka.

He stopped, eyes widening slightly as he looked up at the book. It was written in hieratic, of course, but his eyes fell upon a sentence: “Regarding the practice of binding spirits…”

“No way,” he muttered to himself. There was no way it was going to be this easy. But reading further down the page, he was completely convinced that this was the book the Dark One needed. Or, at the very least, it was something similar enough. The problem now would be getting the book, but if his luck was going to keep up, he might have had a solution there as well. He took a picture of the placard with the title and hurried home to do some research.

It took about an hour of intense searching through literary archives and sketchy, fake-spell pagan sites on their laptop to find the book, but he was eventually able to find some PDFs of photocopied pages, including one for the unbinding ritual the Dark One was searching for. But he kept scrolling, and the very next page read, clear as day, “Binding Spirits”. He downloaded the page, emailed it to himself, and shoved it into Marik’s work bag; he’d have to work fast.

He grabbed some paint the next day, leftover from the last time Marik had detailed his bike, then headed to the library to print out the page. Only then did he head back to the shrine, his heart pounding in his ears. He planned to bind the Dark One so thoroughly to the shrine that it couldn’t bother him, or anyone else, again. As gorgeous as it was, he wasn’t dumb; entities like this, ones that could kill three men in the blink of an eye, were bad news. If he messed this up… well, he could be thankful he wouldn’t be around to see what the Dark One might do if it got free.

Before he summoned it, he set up a binding circle in the center of the room where it had manifested before and took a deep breath. Now or never. He pricked his thumb on the knife and stepped back, far out of reach of the circle.

The Dark One manifested almost instantly, staring at him expectantly. “So? You have it?”

“Yes.”

The Dark One laughed. “Ah! It’s so nice to have someone capable.” It tried to take a step forward as Saif pulled the printout from his bag and was met with a strange whirring sound. It frowned, looking down at the floor. “What - a circle? Ishtar, what is this?”

It was Saif’s turn to laugh, daring to look up. “Our father was a grade-A narcissist. I know the playbook, Dark One. I’m not that easy.”

As Saif started to recite the binding spell, the Dark One raised its voice, eyes flaring. “You’re going to pay for this, Ishtar. After what I did for you, this is how you repay me? I’ll tear off your head and use your skull to decorate this shrine, you - you -” It stopped, listening to his words for a moment before its eyes widened. “…Ishtar, wait. Stop! This isn’t the spell you think it is!”

Saif smiled to himself and kept reading. It was panicking now. He had it right where he wanted it. “…And with these words, I bind thee to me!”

There were five seconds of dead silence as Saif realized what he’d just said. Wait - what?

The lightbulb above them exploded and the Dark One screamed. Saif felt the air leave his lungs. It wasn’t just a binding spell. He had read the first half of it before printing it out and the language had been perfect - spirits being bound to stop from wandering, sealing their power - but he hadn’t read the second half, and he definitely hadn’t read the final line. He felt a strange pressure just behind his eyes, a vision of a demonic face baring its razor-like teeth at him in the darkness. The true Dark One, the entity behind the being he’d trapped in the circle.

And then, it was over. In the flickering candlelight, the pressure subsiding from his skull, he could hear the Dark One’s labored breathing. Then, it broke the silence, growling, “What have you done?”

“I…” Saif dropped the paper, stunned.

“You… fucking idiot!” The Dark One lunged at him, the energy of the circle depleted now, and raised its tail, aiming it directly at Saif’s chest… and it bounced right off, the Dark One yelping as it fell back. “You bound me to you,” it practically wailed, utter despair in its voice as it sank to its knees. “You bound me to you!”

Saif ran. He left the Dark One in a heap on the floor, sprinting up the stairs and rushing back to his apartment. This was bad, astronomically, phenomenally bad. Why hadn’t he read the entire thing through? Was it too much to assume that a binding ritual would just be a binding ritual? Especially when it was right after -

The unbinding ritual. Of course. If he could just print that out and perform that, he could undo this mess. He’d have to find the proper binding ritual, of course, just to make sure that the Dark One wouldn’t immediately eviscerate him for his transgression, but maybe he wasn’t completely screwed. He slammed the door to his apartment shut and tossed his bag on the sofa, desperately searching for the book on the computer again. Thankfully, it was in his page history, so he started scrolling through, muttering, “Come on, come on -”

“That’s not going to work.”

Saif stood with a scream, twisting to see the Dark One standing right behind him with an expression of utter hatred. “How the - what -”

“You bound me to you,” the Dark One said a third time, all of the fight seemingly fled from it. “I go where you go now. Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?”

“I… I didn’t… I thought it was just going to bind you further into the shrine.”

The Dark One laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Good job there. Next time, try reading what you’re doing.” The Dark One approached the computer, hesitantly tapping the keys to read through the page. “This unbinding ritual is only for things bound to objects, which I already was. If you hadn’t come back, if you’d just left me alone, you would have been fine. But now I’m bound to you, and that’s a whole other mess to deal with.”

Saif’s head blanked. “…Was it really that easy?”

“Yes, Ishtar. It was really that easy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, now you’re sorry - you don’t even know the meaning of sorry!” The Dark One turned on him again, its tail whipping angrily. “You’re lucky I can’t hurt you. Otherwise, I’d be eating your goddamn heart right now -”

There was a knock on the door. They both started, staring at the door in silence. “Shit,” Saif said, shoving the Dark One into the bathroom. “Threaten me later.”

“You -”

Saif closed the door, cutting the Dark One’s rant short. He sighed, pulling his hands through his hair as the knocking started again. He made his way to the door and opened it to see Nizar on the other side. “I’m Saif today,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“I heard back about the investigation,” Nizar said as he made his way into the living room. “I know it’s short notice, but they set the trial date for tomorrow. It’s mostly a formality since there’s no one to argue against you. At most, they’re probably just going to increase your therapy appointments.”

“Oh,” Saif said, glancing at the bathroom. All was quiet for now, so he sat on the couch and asked, “They’re not taking what happened to our father into account?”

“No. Zahida’s sure she can convince them that enough time has passed and your file should remained sealed. Small victories, right?” Nizar cocked his head slightly. “How are you two holding up? You look sick.”

“It’s been a lot.” It wasn’t technically a lie, at least. “Marik’s… still not really over what happened when we were kids.”

Nizar nodded slowly, a sad frown coming to his face. Nizar wasn’t one to get emotional, at least not in front of them, so Saif was a little surprised. “Gotta say, what happened to you guys… you kids really got the short end of the stick.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, since we have both you and Marik’s accounts of what happened, you won’t need to do much. Let me do all the talking, be honest if the judge asks you any questions, and we’ll be golden. The police still haven’t found the other guys, but the security footage we got should take care of them.”

“Here’s hoping they got the hell out of dodge,” Saif tried to joke. Nizar smiled humorlessly and bid him farewell, and Saif locked the door behind him. As soon as he did, he could hear scratching at the bathroom door and displeased hissing, and he groaned to himself. This was going to be hell to explain to Marik.

Chapter Text

Saif held a cup of tea in his hand, taking cautious sips of it. Another teacup sat on the coffee table in front of him, placed directly in front of the Dark One, who sat on the sofa with its legs crossed in a posture that seemed particularly bitchy. It had eyed the cup warily but hadn’t touched it yet. “Are you going to drink that?” Saif asked as a way to break the silence.

“猫舌.”

“What?”

The Dark One shifted, its wings splayed out over the back of the sofa. “Cat’s tongue,” it explained with a frown. “It’ll burn my mouth unless I let it cool off.”

Saif contemplated that, taking another sip. “Aren’t you a god?”

“Technically. But this body was human once, and I… inherited some aspects.”

Saif raised a brow. “How’d that happen, anyway?”

“What, are we going to share our sordid pasts now? Wanna hear about how I was once a young serpent born from an umbilical cord?”

Saif opened his mouth to try and disarm the conversation but stopped. Something about that sounded… “Why does that sound familiar?”

“You were born and raised here, right? Try reading your own folklore sometime.”

Saif furrowed his brows as he thought back to Marik’s studies. Folklore - memories of reading the legends of Ra and his battles with the World Encircler, the Serpent From The Nile, came to him, and his eyes widened. “...You’re Apep?”

“I used to be.” The Dark One reached out to tap the tea cup and, deciding it was still too hot, leaned back again. “It was a long time ago.”

“What should I call you now?”

The Dark One eyed him up and down, unamused. “What’s wrong with my title?”

“It’s a bit wordy in conversation.”

“You’re far too cheeky for your own good.” The Dark One’s tail thumped rhythmically against the sofa cushions. “Zorc. Necrophades. One of the two. Both, if you want to suck up to me. Which you should - I’m still upset.”

“Yeah, I know.” Saif set his teacup down, curling in on himself on his chair. The Dark One - Zorc - had eventually settled down once Saif had let it out of the bathroom, and although the air was tense, it was no longer threatening to kill him every other sentence. “So how do I fix this? You said the ritual in the book won’t work.”

Zorc sighed. “I don’t know. No one’s ever been stupid enough to bind themselves to a god before - not of their own volition, anyway, and certainly not with the mindset of freeing themselves from it.”

“Yeah, I know. I screwed up. But trust me, I’m not happy about this, either. I’ll find a way to release you.”

Zorc chuckled drily. “You mean to stick me right back in that shrine. And believe me, I’d actually rather be there.”

They fell silent, and Zorc tapped its teacup again. Seemingly satisfied, it picked it up, the cup looking hilariously dainty in its dark claws, and took a sip. “I have to tell Marik about you,” Saif said quietly. “Shit. And with the trial tomorrow…”

“What is this ‘trial’, anyway?”

“Remember how I told you I stabbed a guy in the throat? A judge just needs to confirm it was self-defense. Otherwise, you’d be bound to me in jail.” Saif paused and asked tentatively, “So you have to go wherever I go?”

“I can hang out places that are considered ‘yours’, for the most part, but we do need to be in contact regularly. Any longer than a few hours and I’ll be automatically called to you.” Zorc’s lip twitched into a frown as it took another drink. “Who is Marik?”

Saif sighed, resting his chin on his knuckles. “My host. I told you, we’re a system.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Without getting into my sordid past,” Saif couldn’t help but snark. “We’re two minds in one body. Only one of us can be out at any given time, and we don’t share memories or anything.”

Zorc finished its tea and set the cup down on the table. “So he has no idea about our little affair.”

Saif snorted a dry laugh. “I… it’s my job to protect him. I figured all the stuff with those robbers was already a lot to deal with, and I thought I could handle this myself.”

“Ah, a typical tale of hubris. Trying to protect someone too much just puts them in even more danger.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Saif reached for the teapot, pouring himself more tea. “Want more?”

“Sure.” Zorc drew its feet onto the sofa. “I will say, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to walk the earth. I’m curious to see what’s changed.”

“What would you do if you were free?”

“In this form, all I can do is wander. If I was at full power…” Zorc shrugged. “First order of business would be to blot out the sun. All of this light would be too bothersome.”

Saif’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not at full power?”

“If I was, do you honestly think I’d look like this? Some… human aberration?” Zorc wrinkled its nose. “It’s too constricting.”

“I think it’s kind of cute.” Again, Saif realized what he said too late, cheeks starting to burn at the incredulous look Zorc gave him. Why, oh, why could he not keep his damn mouth shut? Saif threw back the rest of his tea and fled to the kitchen as Zorc started to laugh.

“Oh! So you were blushing the other day! You humans really are something else. You like this form, Ishtar?” Saif remained silent, hurriedly rinsing out his teacup. “So maybe you wanted to bind me. Make me your little puppet, hm? Do all sorts of unspeakable things to me?”

“Stop it!” Saif said finally, covering his mouth. His face had to have been completely red now.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble. I’m not interested.” He could hear Zorc groan as it stretched out on the sofa. “Human forms aren’t all that appealing to me.”

“Thanks for letting me down easy,” Saif grumbled, drawing a hand down his face. “So… what are you gonna need while you’re here?”

“Those bodies you supplied me will hold me over for a little while, but I’ll need more than that if I’m going to have a purely physical form.”

Saif paused, turning around to face Zorc again. “I can’t just go out and murder people for you to eat.”

“Why not? Grab tourists. They’re easy and it’s usually too much effort for the cops to dig too deeply.”

“I’m not killing any more people than I already have,” Saif said firmly. “How about just… meat? Animal meat?”

Zorc wrinkled its nose again. “…It’ll do, if you want to be stubborn. I’ll need your bed, too.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Zorc stood and extended its wings, easily spanning to take up half of the living room. “If I have to sleep, it needs to be on my stomach, and I can’t do that out here. Besides, it’s the least you could do for me.”

Saif sighed. It had a point; he could only imagine how difficult sleeping with those things would be. “Fine. I’ll take the couch, then. And… I’ll need to figure out a way to explain you if my family comes by.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate, Ishtar. You know, if you hadn’t completely screwed me over, I’d be inclined to offer you another favor.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” Saif sat down at the computer to draft a letter to his landlord - he’d need to explain a sublease, as well. “Your body doesn’t look local - I could say you’re a tourist that got stranded here.”

Zorc was poking around the apartment, examining the photographs on the walls and the books on the bookshelf. “Whatever works. Would make it easier to explain me leaving once we sort this out.”

Saif nodded and sent out the email, turning off the computer with a sigh. “Alright. I can run to the grocery store quick and grab you some meat.” He turned to see Zorc picking through a book about automotive care, left over from Marik’s time as an apprentice mechanic. “…I can turn on the news. It’ll be a start for you to get caught up while I’m gone.”

“No need. I’m going with you.”

“Like hell you are.”

Zorc sighed, slamming the book shut and tossing it onto the coffee table. “Relax. I’m not going out like this.” It crossed the room and grabbed Saif’s arm, yanking it upwards as its form started to shimmer and dissipate. Before Saif could ask what was happening, Zorc turned into a cloud of smoke that swarmed Saif’s bicep, which tingled and itched almost unbearably. It only lasted a second, but when the smoke cleared, Zorc was gone.

Saif blinked, glancing down at his arm. To his utter shock, there was now a giant snake tattoo curving around his bicep, ending right at the dip of his elbow. “What the hell…” he whispered as he touched it gently.

“Get going,” the tattoo said, and Saif couldn’t help but yelp in surprise. The tattoo shifted slightly against his skin, but its mouth was unmoving as it said, “I’m strong enough for this, but a full glamour will take more energy than I can expend right now. This way, I can stay close and you don’t have to worry about me popping up out of nowhere.”

When Zorc put it like that, it made a lot of sense. “…Alright," Saif conceded, heading to the bedroom to grab Marik’s wallet. Zorc was silent as they walked towards the grocery store at the end of the street, and as they passed the alley where Marik had nearly been robbed, Saif forced himself to avert his gaze. “Do you have a meat preference? Aside from… y’know,” he asked quietly, making sure his ears were hidden under his hair. Worst case scenario, he could pretend he was on a headset.

“The bloodier, the better,” Zorc whispered back.

At the store, Saif grabbed a few packages of liver and ground beef - he’d have to look up how to cook them later. He also grabbed some chocolates and snacks before heading to check out. When he came back to his apartment, the snake tattoo started to slither down his arm, smoke filling the air before him as Zorc reformed, stretching dramatically. “You’ve got some neat tricks up your sleeve.”

“This may not be my preferred form,” Zorc explained, cracking its neck. “But I still have a good amount of power. Did you not already have meat here?”

“Marik’s a vegetarian, which means I am, too. Trying to eat meat makes us sick,” Saif explained as he started to put the groceries away. Zorc peered into the bags and, before Saif could swat it away, it stole a chocolate bar and peeled it open, cleanly breaking off a square. “You should try asking.”

“I’ll put this towards your apology,” Zorc teased with a smile, popping the chocolate into its mouth. “Mm. Good quality.”

Saif rolled his eyes and closed the fridge, taking out another bar to start snacking on. “So, think you should just do the tattoo trick for the trial tomorrow?”

“Sure. Probably for the best. Although I’d make a hell of a witness if they start questioning about the other guys.”

“As if they could put you in cuffs. I’d pay to see that.” Zorc snickered to itself, and Saif gave it a pointed look. “Shut up. Listen, you’re gorgeous, I can admit that, but your personality needs work.”

Zorc’s snickers cut off into an offended gasp. “Again, you’re lucky -”

“I’m lucky you can’t hurt me, yeah yeah. Why is that, anyway?” Saif asked casually as he took a seat on the sofa, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. “The binding?”

“Yeah. We’re connected, and my existence in this world is now entirely dependent on yours. If you die, I lose any ties to the physical plane, and then I’m back at square one.” Zorc leaned against the fridge, picking at the chocolate bar in its hands. “Like I said, being sealed up in a shrine in a basement is better than nothing.”

“You know, I would’ve helped you get out of there. Not out in the world, completely free, but maybe… out of a dirty basement, at least. I just don’t want to be lied to. Like I said, I know the playbook.”

Zorc fell silent for a moment. “…You keep saying that. What does that mean?”

“You know. Trying to sweet-talk me, make me let my guard down, manipulate me into doing whatever you want even if it hurts me. You said you’d move on and I’d never see you again if I let you out - what would you really have done?”

Zorc glanced away. “…Well, a god isn’t much without worshippers. A cult, in my case. I probably would’ve indoctrinated you, tasked you with rebuilding.”

“See? If you’d just told me that, I probably would’ve helped. I’d have to pass on the cult thing, though.” They finished their chocolate bars in silence, and Saif turned on the news for Zorc to watch as he grabbed a notebook, staring at a blank page. Everything that had happened over the past few days was utter insanity, and no matter how many sentences he started to write, none seemed to explain everything properly.

A loud sound made him jump, followed by Zorc hissing, “Damn it!” He peered into the living room and saw Zorc fiddling with the remote, the volume oscillating between ear-bleedingly loud and mute. In retrospect, maybe he was overthinking this. Zorc would probably be willing to explain what had happened the night of the robbery - Saif just needed to brace Marik for meeting it.

With that, he sat back down and started to write, and the sentences came much easier this time. It was just a short few paragraphs, but it would certainly get the job done. He brought a blanket out from the bedroom to settle onto the couch as the night dragged on, and Zorc disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind it. Saif fell asleep to the quiet sound of late-night advertisements, his last thoughts being of well wishes for Marik.

Chapter Text

Marik woke to the strangest feeling of being watched. He tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was darkness, his eyelids refusing to part and leaving him blind to the world. He heard soft breathing above him, and there was a flash of something, a vision - long white hair and those bright red eyes again, looking at him with equal parts anger and curiosity. His heart lept into his throat with the feeling of claws taking gentle hold of his arm. He couldn’t move, frozen in fear as he felt something crawling up his skin and down his back, tingling and filling him with the horrible feeling that his body was no longer entirely his.

A chirping alarm jolted him upright, eyes snapping open to pure daylight filtering through the windows. His breath caught in his throat as he stood and spun around, surprised to see his living room instead of his bedroom. He looked down at the sofa, decorative pillows piled up on one end with a blanket tossed over the back. The apartment was quiet, though - he was alone. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. A dream. Of course.

He glanced back down at his phone, which was still chirping, and grabbed it, eyes widening as he saw the time. He cursed and ran into his bedroom to get dressed - he’d forgotten to adjust the alarm to give him time to get ready, so he’d need to rush now if he wanted to look presentable in court. On his way to the front door a few minutes after Rishid texted him that he had arrived to drive him, he briefly caught a glimpse of a piece of paper on the coffee table. Whatever - he could read it when he got back.

“Sorry,” Marik apologized as he got into Rishid’s car. Idly scratching his back, he continued, “I overslept.”

“Hopefully, we can all rest easily after this,” Rishid said, handing him a to-go cup of coffee.

“Dammit, I was gonna buy you and Ishizu coffee!” Marik laughed as he took a sip. Of course, Rishid had added the perfect amount of cream and sugar. “I’ll just buy breakfast after. Thank you, akh.”

The trial, such as it was, went as smoothly as Nizar had promised them. The footage pretty clearly showed Marik being lured into the alley and the men swarming him, and the judge could only sigh. “An apology to the man’s family should suffice. An officer will deliver it. Understand that this is only because of the circumstances - I will not be this lenient again.”

Once Marik had written the apology (and he put his heart into it; robbery or no, it was a senseless loss of life), the officers escorted him out, and Marik felt… dissatisfied as he and his siblings headed to a local shop for a late breakfast. “This doesn’t feel like justice,” he said to himself as he picked at his food.

“It’s a strange situation,” Ishizu said, giving him a sympathetic look. “But at least we can put this behind us now. How is Saif doing?”

“I think… he’s mostly just a little guilty over causing so much trouble again.” Marik frowned, squirming slightly in his chair. Something on his back was kind of itchy and it was bugging him. “I might go for a ride tonight, clear my head.”

Rishid dropped him off at his apartment, and he pressed against the door with a sigh, closing his eyes. A shower, he decided, and then he’d go unlock his bike. But as he headed to the bathroom, he saw the paper on the coffee table again and sighed. Right. Saif would usually leave notes for him if he had something particularly important to say - otherwise, he would just write it in the back of Marik’s journal. Marik poured himself a glass of water and made himself comfortable on the sofa, picking up the paper. It read:

“Marik, there’s something important I didn’t tell anyone about the night of the robbery. It didn’t have anything to do with the guy I killed, so I haven’t said anything. I messed up, habibi. When I was running from the others, I found a basement. There was something in it, something bad, that I let out. I bound it to us, and now it’s stuck here.

Its name is Zorc. It should be in the bedroom when you wake up. It can’t hurt us, but it’s definitely not happy. I’m going to find a way to fix this. I’m sorry.“

“What is this?” Marik asked himself, utterly confused the more he read. “Zorc?”

As soon as he said the word, the itching on his back intensified to be almost unbearable, and Marik hissed in discomfort, leaning back to scratch it but stopping short. He stared in horror as something started to crawl down his arm, black as ink but shifting impossibly - it looked lke a snake. As it approached his hand, smoke began to drift from his skin, and he could only think to swat at it in a vain attempt to… extinguish it, maybe?

“Knock it off!” A sharp voice scolded, and he froze, looking up as the smoke pooled before him and solidified, becoming a massive creature. It looked like a human had fused with a dragon, its extremities clawed and covered in black scales, a tail and wings adorning its back. He gaped up at the creature, dumbfounded as it stretched and yawned. “Damn! Took you long enough. I’m all stiff now.”

“Wh-what -”

The creature gestured to the paper. “Zorc. Y’know, like it says in the letter?” It looked down on him with blinding red eyes, and Marik’s heart practically stopped. He knew those eyes. His dream… it hadn’t been a dream.

Marik screamed and vaulted over the sofa, racing to the bedroom to lock himself inside. He backed away from the door, his breathing panicked as he tried to consider how he was going to get out of this, away from the monster that now occupied his living room. He lived on the third floor, so climbing out the window wasn’t an option.

There was a gentle tapping on the door. “Relax, kid. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to,” the creature said through the wood, its voice sounding bored. “Your sword took all that time to write that letter for you. Aren’t you gonna at least hear me out?”

Marik sat on his bed, holding his head in his hands. “This can’t be happening,” he said to himself, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He’d never had hallucinations before, but maybe his brain was playing tricks on him. Maybe all of the stress from the past week had accumulated and erupted into a… delusion, surely. He pulled his phone from his pocket to text Rishid.

“Alright, fine,” the creature said through the door with a sigh. “I’m gonna make some tea.”

Marik froze as he heard footsteps heading away from his door, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Tea? Marik swallowed hard and exited out of the messaging app. The creature sounded calm, far too calm to be planning to kill him, so maybe… it was safe to at least go out. Worst case scenario, he could make a break from the front door. As he unlocked and opened his bedroom door, cautiously peeking out into the living room, he could hear the faucet running and the clinking of dishes. The tip of a tail poked out from the kitchen, swaying casually, and he rounded the corner to watch the creature filling a teapot. Once it got to the stovetop, however, it leaned down to stare at the dials with a frown, poking at them. “Um,” Marik said quietly, and it looked over at him, tilting its head slightly. “It’s a gas stove.”

“My knowledge of household appliances begins and ends with hearths,” the creature said, standing upright and gesturing to the stove. “A demonstration, if you will?”

Marik nodded and moved closer, shooting the creature nervous glances. It simply watched as he ignited one of the burners and set it to a medium flame. “There,” he said, stepping back.

“Hm.” The creature set the teapot on the stove and nodded to itself. “That is much more convenient, isn’t it?” It turned to look at Marik, gesturing to the living room. “Ready to talk, host?” Marik followed it to the living room, sitting down on the chair as it made itself comfortable on the sofa. “So, as the sword said, you may call me Zorc. He bound me to him in a stupid attempt to seal me away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Probably because he, unfortunately, overestimated my capabilties.” Zorc sighed, crossing its legs. “He stumbled upon my shrine running from those men that tried to kill you. I took care of them, and in exchange, I tasked him with freeing me, and he decided to do the exact opposite. Since you share a body with him, I’m bound to you, as well. I think he was hoping you’d wake up in time to read that note and let me properly introduce myself, but you’re quite the sleeping beauty.”

Marik couldn’t help but flush. “So you… did that thing? With the smoke?”

“Yes. It’s best if we’re not apart for too long, and I’m not strong enough for a glamour spell yet. Speaking of which, I’ll need to eat soon. Your sword bought some meat for me the other day.”

“Oh.” Marik squirmed a little. “I don’t -”

“You don’t eat meat, I know. Frankly, ground animal meat isn’t all too appealing to me, either, but your sword was rather insistent that no one else dies while I’m around.” Zorc rolled its eyes. “Although he certainly didn’t complain about me getting rid of those bodies for him.”

“Bodies?”

“From the other men that tried to rob you? Keep up, host.”

Marik furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay - so what do you mean? How’d you get rid of the bodies?”

Zorc stretched its legs out and rested back on the sofa as best as it could without its wings getting in the way. “I ate them, obviously. Do I look like an herbivore to you? They’ve held me over the past few days, but I’m starting to feel peckish.”

Marik slowly shook his head. “This is… insanity. You and Saif really want me to believe you’re - what are you, anyway?”

“I’d like to think of myself as a god. A rather de-powered one, but a god nonetheless.” The kettle started to whistle and Zorc stood, heading to the kitchen to pour the tea. Marik watched it go, and he couldn’t help but be mildly awed by the way the blackened scales, a trail of which jutted from its spine, contrasted with its skin and the pure white of its hair. “I will say, you seem much less mouthy that the sword.”

“You keep saying that. ‘The sword’. Do you mean Saif?”

Zorc waved a hand, not bothering to look back at him. “Same thing. It’s fitting - what’s a king without a sword, after all?”

“Everyone seems to think that. Saif picked his name. Now if only he wouldn’t take it literally…”

Zorc laughed. “He does seem the type to swing first and ask questions later. His moxie would be almost cute if he wasn’t so insufferably short-sighted.” Zorc returned to the sofa with two cups of tea, setting them both on the coffee table as it took a seat and made itself comfortable again. “Whether or not he can actually fix this remains to be seen.”

“What would he have to do?” Marik asked curiously, reaching for his tea.

“There are unbinding rituals, of course, but I don’t know of any strong enough to release a person from a bind with a god.”

“Well, how did he find the ritual he used before?”

Zorc sighed, pointedly ignoring its teacup. “There was a book of rituals I tasked him to find, but the rituals in that book are regarding spirits and objects. The ritual he perfomed binds a spirit to oneself, but I’m a god. The fact it worked at all is…” Zorc paused. “Don’t tell him I said this, but it’s frankly remarkable. Your sword would be a very powerful magician-priest if he put his mind to it.”

“Wow.” Marik drank his tea - it was a little too strong for his tastes, but he didn’t dare critique Zorc’s drink-making skills.

“Regardless, that means that it will be incredibly difficult to find something to reverse this. And, frankly, I’m still of half a mind to destroy him for even thinking to attempt this.”

“You know that would kill me, too, right?”

Zorc shrugged. “It may have been his mind, but he used your hands. His sin is yours. Unless you can think of a way for me to kill him while sparing you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. Saif… yes, what he did here was a mistake, but he’s…” Marik sighed slightly, setting his teacup down. “He’s my protector. Chances are, he thought binding you would keep me from getting into any more trouble than I already was.”

“He said as much,” Zorc mused, finally reaching for its tea and taking a careful sip, jolting slightly. “Ah! Hot. Anyway, as I told him, the more you try to protect someone, the more you risk putting them in even greater danger. Unfortunately for you, he’s bitten off more than he can chew.”

“Yeah,” Marik said softly, gnawing his lip. “…This book you wanted him to find. Did he say where he found it?”

“He had it up on… that… thing.” Zorc gestured to the computer behind him. Marik had bought a tiny desk to shove into the corner by his bedroom, a place to have a proper computer station so that he wasn’t carrying it between his bedroom and the sofa. Marik stood and headed over, booting it up and heading to the search history. “Why?”

“…This book’s at a local museum. My sister works for the Ministry of Tourism - she deals with a lot of museums, she might know where to find other books. Ones that can help.” Marik pulled out his phone and started drafting a message to Ishizu, ignoring Zorc’s eyes on his back. “It’s a good start, right?”

“Right,” Zorc said after a moment. “Hm. Perhaps there’s hope for you two yet.”

Marik decided to play it casual, sending Ishizu a gentle inquiry into any mystical books she may have come across. “Okay. Hopefully, she can give us somewhere to start. In the meantime… I assume you’d want a cooked meal.”

“If it’s animal meat, certainly. I’m not a dog.”

“Alright.” Marik started searching up some recipes, trying to find something simple and eventually settling on kofta; it seemed easy enough to serve and versatile enough for him to make something for himself as well. “Well. In the meantime… make yourself at home.” He moved to the kitchen to get started on dinner.

He knew it was strange. His alter had bound a strange creature to them and now they were tasked with removing the binding. But as he cooked up ground beef, listening to Zorc aimlessly flip through television channels and make little comments and exclamations over the news, he was surprised to find that it was almost comforting. Living alone had been nice, as it felt like definitive proof that he was capable of living a normal life, but the presence of someone else, as strange and inhuman as it was, set him at ease.

Now, he just needed to make sure that having it around wouldn’t kill him - or Saif.

Chapter Text

Ishizu called just as Marik was starting on dishes. He’d shown Zorc how to use the computer and had pulled up Wikipedia as a way to help it get caught up to speed. The news was alright for current events, but he was shocked to find that Zorc had no idea of anything that had happened in the past twenty years or so. Needless to say, Zorc was practically hypnotized by the screen as Marik turned off the faucet and answered. “Hi, Ishizu.”

“Hello, Marik. I got your message - you’re looking for books on magic? Why?”

“Saif was at the museum the other day and they had a pretty interesting one. We were just curious if there were any more around.”

Ishizu paused for a long moment. “…Is everything alright? Neither of you have never shown interest in mysticism.”

Marik’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh. I think he’s more curious about the history. You know how he gets sometimes - something catches his eye and he just has to know about it.”

“Alright.” She sounded unconvinced, but she continued, “I suppose between the National Museum and the Coptic Museum, Alexandria would be a good place to start.”

“Cool. Hey, maybe we could take a family day, go and visit. It’d be a nice distraction.”

“I have some days off coming up,” she said, something in her voice sounded pleased about the idea. “I’ll talk to Rishid and see if we can find a day. Good night, Marik. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ishizu.” Marik hung up, shoulders slumping.

“What’s the verdict?”

He jumped, startled, as Zorc slid up behind him, staring down at the phone curiously. “You know, for a… whatever you are… you’re light-footed.” Zorc smiled briefly, although it seemed more like it was bearing its teeth, which were slightly too sharp. “There’s nothing here in the city,” Marik said, setting his phone to the side and focusing back on the dishes. “We’d probably have to go to Alexandria.”

“Mm.” Zorc slipped around the corner, the chair at the computer desk creaking as he took a seat again. “By the way, you were sleeping on the couch because I need the bed. Believe it or not, sleeping with wings can be a bit challenging.”

Marik frowned to himself. That would explain why he was on the couch. “Couldn’t you wrap them around yourself? You know, like a bat?”

Zorc paused for a second. “...Hm. I could certainly try it. But also consider that the fact I need to sleep in the first place is your sword’s fault, and I think giving me your bed is a small price to pay to make it up to me.”

“Why do you call him that?” Marik asked curiously, dousing his frying pan in soapy water and carefully scrubbing it out. “His name’s Saif.”

“Yes, and ‘Saif’ means ‘sword’. What’s the difference?”

“You’re equating his name to its meaning and not to him as a person.”

He could hear Zorc sigh from around the corner. “Fine. I’ll make a note of it.”

Marik emptied the sink and dried off his hands. He was due back to work the next day, so he plugged his phone in at the computer desk and settled onto the sofa. “Use headphones if you’re going to be on that all night,” he said with a yawn. He only lasted the better part of an hour before his eyelids started to feel heavy, and he only rose again to turn off the lights before falling into an easy slumber.

He woke up to something sharp poking him in the shoulder and the chirp of a phone’s alarm. “Your thing’s going off,” Zorc said as he yawned, stretching out on the couch.

“Urgh,” Marik said in response, blindly grabbing for the phone and scraping the side of his hand against one of Zorc’s claws in the process. He hissed quietly, eyes opening to see the demon standing above him and a notification that he had to work today. “Right.” He sat up, tossed the blankets off, and headed to the bathroom.

“The sword - Saif didn’t mention you had a job,” Zorc said from outside of the bathroom door. “But then again, I suppose that should have been safe to assume. What do you do, anyway?”

“We’re mechanics,” Marik called back once he’d brushed his teeth. As he wet his face with a washcloth to start shaving, he explained, “Our boss gave us a few days off to deal with the investigation and heal up. It’s usually eight hour shifts - will you be okay with that?”

“Eight?” Zorc asked incredulously.

“We get breaks, about half an hour for lunch. I could probably find a spot to let you stretch your wings.”

Zorc paused, then huffed a laugh. “You’re very considerate. Do you think playing the part of gracious host will quell my wrath?”

“If we’re going to be stuck like this, I might as well make it as painless as possible. And if it just so happens to make you less inclined to kill us, all the better.” Marik dried himself off and examined himself in the mirror. He was due for a haircut and maybe a few more hours of sleep, but otherwise, they looked fine. He emerged from the bathroom and headed off to brush his hair and change, and Zorc followed, making itself cozy on the bed.

“I might need to eat again soon,” it said, examining its claws. “The food from last night was nice, but not nearly as filling as a body.”

“Okay. I can probably pick up something for you.” Fully dressed, Marik turned to Zorc and held his arm out. “Ready?”

Zorc cracked its neck and sighed, dissipating into smoke and swarming Marik’s arm. Marik couldn’t help but grimace watching the smoke settle under his skin, climbing up towards his neck and down his back, making him shiver. “I’ll let you know if I need anything,” Zorc said, its voice echoey and quiet.

“Alright.” Marik grabbed his bag and headed out the door. The shop he worked at was within walking distance, a small blessing for making sure he got out of the house. The only downside was that he couldn’t ride his bike; he definitely needed to take it for a drive. After work, he decided with a nod to himself. Hopefully, Zorc didn’t get motion sickness.

His boss was at the front desk as he entered the building, greeting him with a wave. “Welcome back!” his boss said jovially, pausing to examine him. “…Marik today, right?”

“Yes,” Marik said with a surprised smile. “How could you tell?”

“The way you walk,” his boss explained, standing straight up and puffing his chest out. “You’re open, ready to greet the world! Saif…” His boss hunched over slightly, his posture closed off. “Goes defensive. Keeps the world out.”

“Wow. You’re observant. Well, I can’t do a whole lot of heavy lifting, but just tell me where to go.”

To make things easier on him, he was mostly on assistance duty, holding lights and doing diagnostics for the most part. For lunch, he headed to his favorite food stall to get his usual order of taameya, and he picked up a chicken shawarma for Zorc. “I thought you didn’t eat meat, Marik,” the owner of the stall said, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Ah, it’s for my coworker,” Marik lied quickly with a bright smile. When he was younger, a family friend had told him that he had a smile that could get him out of trouble, and he was glad to see she had been right, as the stall owner didn’t ask any more questions. With lunch in hand, he headed behind the mechanic shop to let Zorc out, handing it the shawarma once it had manifested. “This area’s blocked off, so no one should be able to see us.”

“Nice.” Zorc practically tore into the shawarma, pausing to savor the flavors. It pressed against the cement wall blocking off the back of the shop from the nearby street, so the only way anyone could see it was if they were looking at it head-on. “Mm. Wow, I’ve been missing out.”

“You don’t usually eat human food, I take it?”

“Human bodies, especially hearts, give me more power, but they tend to taste rather plain. Especially if they’re not worthy.”

Marik wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. Eating human hearts sounded awful to him, but despite himself, he asked, “What does that mean? ‘Worthy’?”

“Certain people have more of a connection to the gods. Inherent magical talent. Do you remember how I said Saif would make a good magician-priest? It’s because his blood is worthy.”

“Which would make… my blood worthy, too, right?”

Zorc smirked, its tone shifting to sound nearly playful. “Hold out your hand and we can find out.” Marik finished off his taameya and held out his hand. Holding its shawarma in one hand, Zorc slowly reached out with the other and scratched its claw across his palm, just hard enough to collect a drop of blood on the tip. Marik flinched, watching as Zorc lifted its hand to its mouth and licked its claw. Its expression as it tasted his blood reminded Marik of videos he’d seen of sommeliers judging wine. “Yes,” Zorc said after a second. “One and the same.”

Marik swallowed hard. “So, would that explain why Saif was able to bind you to us?”

Zorc frowned slightly, taking another bite of shawarma and saying through a mouthful of chicken, “Most likely.” Marik glanced down at himself with a frown. “Most people would be excited to know they had something special about them.”

“It’s complicated. My father… he talked a lot about this stuff. Magic, the gods, rituals. But he made it sound more like a burden, a curse.” He laughed humorlessly. “I guess he was right.” Something twisted in his stomach, and he could practically hear Saif hissing, ‘No, no, he wasn’t, it’s not true, fuck that bastard,’ and Marik let him rant it out, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “Well. Maybe that’ll make it easier to unbind us, then.”

“You’re a hopeful one,” Zorc said with a little laugh.

Their meal break done, Zorc returned to its tattoo form, and Marik was able to finish the day with only a minor ache in his injured shoulder. He got back home without any issues, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table and collapsing on the sofa, flinching slightly as he felt Zorc crawl down his arm and start to reform, sitting right next to him. “I’m going to take a nap,” Marik mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Alright. I suppose I can entertain myself somehow,” Zorc said, sarcasm slipping into its voice as it reached for the television remote. Marik jolted slightly as the volume swung a bit too loud, and Zorc swore quietly before turning it back down. Marik couldn’t help but smile, nuzzling into the pillows of his makeshift bed.

Saif woke up to a claw poking him in the arm. He swung his arm with a mumbled, “Knock it off.”

“Get up and make dinner, then,” Zorc said next to him, and he opened his eyes with a groan. It was leaning over him slightly, expression petulantly teasing. “This is annoying,” it continued as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t need to eat this often before.”

“You were also eating whole bodies before,” Saif said, looking around. The sun was setting through the windows - they’d been asleep for a while. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of those just lying around. And I'm not planning on changing that any time soon.”

Zorc paused, tilting its head. “The sword. Saif. Interesting. I thought it would be more obvious, somehow.”

“What? Oh, when we switch?” Saif shrugged and stood, shuffling into the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge in Marik’s handwriting that he briefly stopped to read - ‘it likes kofta!’, followed by a little doodle of Zorc’s face. He snorted a little laugh. “Yeah. Usually, we just say something.”

“Your boss can tell by the way you walk.”

Saif looked up over the door of the refrigerator, eyebrows raised. “Really? Huh. Then again, he knows us pretty well.” He ducked back down into the fridge and examined the package of liver he’d bought - he needed to use it up quickly, so he grabbed his phone and started looking up recipes. Liver sandwiches seemed like a good bet, so he set his phone down and got to work slicing up some vegetables. “He was the only mechanic in town who didn’t slam the door in our face when we applied for a job.”

“Having a split mind is that much of an issue?”

“We’re not split, really, but a lot of people think we’re faking it or that we’re just crazy. Then, when they see it’s for real, they get weird about it. They think it’s a liability. But our boss saw how much Marik likes working with machinery and decided to give us a shot.”

Zorc stood up from the sofa and padded into the kitchen, peering around his shoulder to watch what he was doing. “Neither of you give the impression of working with machines.”

“Marik saw a photo of a motorcycle when he was younger and it was all over from there. His bike is his pride and joy, and he won’t let anyone else touch it.” Saif took a break from the sandwich to let the liver marinate, reaching into the fridge for a drink and spotting a couple of bottles of beer, the last remnants of a case they’d bought a few weeks ago. He shrugged to himself and grabbed one, popping the cap open and taking a swig. “Eventually, he got so good at fixing it up and maintaining it that we figured we might as well make it our job. I’m not half-bad, either, so it works out.”

Zorc leaned back against the opposite counter with a thoughtful hum. “Symbiosis. Interesting. All thing considered, perhaps there were worse people to be bound to.”

“Aw,” Saif said, touching his chest. “I’m flattered.”

Zorc swatted him on the arm with its tail, making sure to avoid hitting him with any of the spines. Saif fumbled slightly, even a small tap nearly making him drop his bottle. “Don’t get cute. I’m still expecting you to fix this. That reminds me, you said you don’t remember anything Marik does, right? He said your sister might know where to start looking.”

“He told Ishizu about you?”

“No, he just made you out to be an amateur historian.”

Saif groaned. “That’s even worse.”

Zorc laughed, and its smile seemed incredibly genuine, so genuine that Saif couldn’t help but smile back. He set his beer bottle down and turned back to the liver on the counter. The sandwiches came together pretty easily, thankfully, and Saif picked a meal from the freezer and popped it into the microwave for himself as Zorc headed back to the living room. He polished off his beer and, after rinsing it out, grabbed the other from the fridge.

After a few trips, he managed to get dinner set on the coffee table in the living room. Water and liver for Zorc and a microwave meal and beer for Saif. It certainly wasn’t the same as the family dinners they’d had growing up, sat around a table in tense silence. Saif took a swig from his beer and decided that this was much better.

“It’s strange to see you so thoughtful,” Zorc commented as it bit into its sandwich.

“It’s… been a while since we’ve sat down to eat with someone else.” The alcohol started to swim in Saif’s head, and his tongue felt loose. “We moved out on our own a while ago. We have our brother and sister, but we’re all adults now. They have lives.” He paused, then added with a snort, “Well, Rishid tries, anyway.”

As Saif tucked into his food, Zorc mulled that over. “Solitude isn’t that bad. I’ve been alone as long as I can remember.”

“What about your cult?”

Zorc shrugged, licking its claws as it finished its meal. It had eaten like a starving man, barely taking time to savor it. “Usually, I’d just listen to their devotions, take energy from it. It wasn’t until they sealed me in this body that I actually spoke to them, met them.”

Saif frowned to himself, picking at the last few remnants of his meal. ‘It’s always been Marik and our siblings - I came along a bit later, but they took me in eventually, too.“

“You weren’t born with Marik?”

Saif shook his head. “No, he made me when he was… eleven, I think? That’s when our father went really off the deep end, so I had to step in.”

“So he manifested you,” Zorc mused. “Marik mentioned your father was quite knowledgeable about magic and rituals. That must be where you got it from.”

Saif very briefly remembered being woken earlier and felt that violent defiance fill his chest again. “Our father was a narcissistic psychopath who would beat his children into unconsciousness rather than admit to being wrong. Don’t ever compare us again.” The apartment fell deathly silent as Zorc raised its brows. Saif eventually sighed and said, “Sorry. He’s… a touchy subject.”

“Clearly.” Zorc tilted its head slightly. “You say ‘was’. So he’s dead now?”

“Yes, thank whatever gods are listening.”

“You’re welcome.” Saif gave Zorc an unamused glance, to which it simply smiled. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Ishtar, but your father was onto something. I told Marik this already, but you have inherent magic abilities - it’s what allowed you to summon me in the first place. The blood of the worthy. If you didn’t have that and you’d tried to bind me, you would’ve been destroyed.” Saif said nothing, taking another swig of beer. Zorc watched him for a moment before sighing, its smile fading. “I’m not saying the rest of whatever he did justifies it. He was unfortunately right about that one thing, that’s all.”

“Marik used to be terrified,” Saif said quietly, staring down at the coffee table. He could see the grains through the cheap varnish, and he followed them with his eyes as he said, “He got the least of it, but that just meant that he had to watch. He wanted to protect Rishid and Ishizu so badly, but… he was so young.”

Zorc sighed again, although its expression was a bit softer now. “I’m not a sympathetic sort, so I apologize for not having a great bedside manner. But… you’ve had a pretty rough go at life, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. We have.” Saif finished off his beer, his head properly feeling fuzzy now. He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. “It’s better now. Or, it was, until all this happened.”

“All the more reason to get this done, then.” Zorc set its plate on the coffee table and turned back to the television, but Saif didn’t watch. His eyes refused to open, and he found himself drifting off, mind swirling as he convinced himself that it was, in fact, better now. Better than it had ever been.

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. The plates were gone from the coffee table, and Zorc was nowhere to be seen. Saif’s head was still fuzzy as he climbed to his feet. He needed to go to bed, and he didn’t even pause on seeing the door already shut. In the dark, he undressed before climbing under the covers, ignoring the body already lying flat on the mattress. He heard a confused voice mumble, “Ishtar?” next to him, but he ignored that, too, his mind starting to drift off again in the comfort of his bed.

He could feel weight shifting on the bed, something wrapping around him, and then, he slept.

Chapter Text

Saif was in the basement again. He wasn’t alone. A beautiful boy about his age with white hair and light red eyes was laid out on the altar, illuminated by purple candles. Three other people were in the room as well, two standing on either side of Saif and one in front of the boy. They were dressed in dark robes and moved oddly, like marionettes pulled by strings. The puppet in front of the altar raised its hands above its head, and it was holding a wicked-looking knife as it chanted something - a prayer, most likely.

Saif stared at the boy on the altar, and the boy stared back, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He looked like… “Zorc?” Saif asked into the void.

“He is now,” the puppet standing on his right said in Zorc’s voice. And the puppet with the knife drove it downwards, stabbing into the boy’s chest up to the hilt.

The boy choked on blood as it pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin and cheek. The tears fell freely now, streaking through the blood, but there was no fear in his face; his eyes remained clear with saddened acceptance. “There’s nothing you can do,” he gasped, still staring directly at Saif. “It’s okay.”

Saif woke with a start, his breath catching in his throat. His face was pressed against a pale chest that rose and fell steadily, and something leathery was wrapped around his body, putting up no resistance as he carefully untangled himself and pushed away.

He was on his bed, and Zorc was fast asleep in front of him. He’d been wrapped up in its wings, and it looked at peace, nothing at all like the dying boy from his dream. Saif carefully got up to get dressed, forcing himself to ignore Zorc as it continued its blissful slumber. What the hell had that dream been? A memory? Just some strange vision? The way the boy had stared at him with those wide eyes haunted his mind as he pulled on some khakis.

His phone’s alarm started to chirp on the nightstand, and Saif froze as Zorc snorted and rolled over, drawing an arm over its eyes. “That… is very annoying,” it grumbled, pulling its arm back to blink up at Saif. “You’re awake early.”

“I had a weird dream,” Saif said, buckling his belt before reaching for his phone. “So, hey, when you said that body was ‘gifted’ to you, you really meant ‘sacrificed’, right?”

Zorc sat up on its elbows. “What?”

“I saw what your cult did to him.”

Zorc stared for a second before sighing. “Oh. Probably because of the bond. Listen, sacrifice, gift… it’s all a matter of perspective.”

“Do you even know who he was?”

“A tourist, probably - I dunno, my cult found him. His blood was worthy, and they wanted to give me a foothold in the physical plane, so they used him as a vessel.”

‘Grab tourists,’ Zorc’s voice echoed in Saif’s head. ‘They’re easy… too much effort for the cops to dig too deeply.’ It stirred some feelings, ugly and familiar, in the back of his head. He felt sick, his heart starting to pound in his ears, and turned away with a disgusted noise. “You don’t even care.”

“Ishtar,” Zorc said, somewhat exasperated. It had the nerve to be annoyed by this whole thing. “It comes with the territory. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t ask them to give me this body.”

“You sure as shit didn’t stop them from doing it.” Saif dropped his head into a hand, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing his thoughts back, back to the very recesses of his mind. It wasn’t often that he needed to switch out, but what he’d just seen and the way Zorc was confirming it was too much to handle right now. “Go to hell.”

Marik stumbled slightly as he woke up, and behind him, Zorc said, “Wow. It bugs you that much, huh?”

“Hmm?” Marik asked dumbly as he turned. “Uh… sorry, I just got here.”

Zorc tilted its head, staring at him for a second. “Oh. The host? Never mind, then.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. We were having a minor disagreement. Nothing to worry about.” Zorc sat up and stretched with a groan of effort. “So. What’s on the agenda today, host?” It paused at the pointed look Marik gave it and corrected, “Marik?”

“Thank you. Well… we’re up early, so I can make some breakfast. I don’t think I can make anything with meat before we need to leave, though.”

Zorc waved its hand. “I’ll be alright until later. That thing you got for me the other day was good.”

“Shawarma? They do one with lamb, too.” Zorc’s expression brightened in excitement, and Marik couldn’t help but be a little charmed. All things considered, it seemed to be adjusting to their lives pretty well. But as Zorc took some time to brush its hair and preen in the bathroom, Marik couldn’t help but wonder about what had happened before he’d woken up. Saif usually only switched if he’d felt danger had passed or he wanted to give Marik some time fronting, and he always tried to wait until they’d gone to sleep. But when they’d switched this morning, Marik could feel that Saif had been distressed about something.

He frowned to himself, taking his empty dishes to the sink. He had a feeling Zorc was downplaying their ‘disagreement’, but maybe it was best to wait until after work to talk it out.

Zorc attached itself to Marik’s back again and they headed out the door for what ended up being a short day. Marik got overconfident and lifted something a little too heavy, which extended his injured shoulder past its limits and made him nearly collapse in pain. His boss let him take some painkillers from the first aid kit and ordered him to go home and get some more rest. “Your arm’s no good if it falls off,” he told Marik, patting his good shoulder.

Marik sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed home. He wasn’t at work long enough to get a lunch break, but he figured they could stop and get something on the way. The streets were pretty empty this time of day, so he asked, “Zorc? What were you and Saif arguing about?”

He felt Zorc slither up his back, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine, and it said in his ear, “Like I said, nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, see, here’s the thing,” Marik said with a frown, stepping off into an alley to lean against a wall and pretend to scroll through his phone. “I can’t remember what happens when he’s fronting, but I can catch on to certain feelings. And he was pretty upset. For him to be upset enough to switch out means that it is something to worry about.”

Zorc sighed. “Fine. He fell asleep on me last night and saw something he shouldn’t have. Probably because of our bond.”

“Fell asleep -” Marik stopped. Out of everything Zorc had just said, that wasn’t the important part. So instead, Marik asked, “What’d he see?”

“He… saw how I obtained this form. A sacrifice made by my cult about twenty years ago.”

Marik’s eyebrows rose, looking up at the opposite wall of the alley as the gravity of Zorc’s words settled on him. “So… someone died for you to look like that?”

“Yes. The sw - Saif didn’t appreciate that I framed it as a ‘gift’. And he didn’t seem to appreciate that I don’t know the details of who the sacrifice was, nor do I care to learn.”

Marik was silent for a long moment. “I see. Okay. I get it now.”

“If it helps, I’ll tell you what I told him: I didn’t ask for this sacrifice. They wanted to give me a stronger bond to the physical plane.”

“It doesn’t, really, but that’s not the problem.” Marik took a deep breath. “Saif used to be the same way.” He glanced up at the sky, the crisscross of fire escapes and laundry lines cutting through the intense, cloudless blue. “When I asked him to protect me, he tried to protect me from everyone. And he thought the best way to protect me was to get physical. He’d hurt anyone who got too close; he didn’t care who they were, and he didn’t care to learn.“

Zorc fell silent at hearing its own words used against it before musing, “So his anger is not at my circumstances. It’s at my behavior regarding it.”

Marik sighed, resting his head against the bricks. “It probably just… reminded him of how he used to be.”

They were quiet, listening to the sounds of a city around them - cars, the chatter of people walking down the street, the sounds of televisions and radios, and calls to prayer echoing through the air. “You’re just as much his protector as he is yours,” Zorc said finally.

“Maybe,” Marik mused, smiling to himself sadly. “I’m better at the emotional stuff, anyway.”

Zorc paused for a second and asked, “When we first discussed how this would work, I told him that human bodies keep me satiated, and he said that he would not kill any more people than he already had. I know of the man in the alley -”

“It’s better if he tells you,” Marik interrupted gently. “He deserves to be able to explain himself.”

“…Fair enough. Let’s get going, I’m starving.”

Marik nodded and pushed away from the wall, but movement from the opposite end of the alley caught his attention. A man, dressed in plain robes and a head covering, was staring down at him. “Hello?” Marik called out cautiously, standing his ground. “Can I help you?”

“No,” the man said, stepping towards him. “But I can help you. The Serpent has attached itself to you. Let me cleanse you of its presence.”

“Marik.” Zorc hissed into his ear, and it sounded panicked. “We need to go.”

Before Marik could ask why, the man stopped mere feet away from him. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Thank you,” Marik said, putting his hands up defensively. “I’m taking care of it. No need to concern yourself.”

The man watched him for a long moment, his eyes becoming saddened. “…You are bound. Aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah, but like I said, we’re taking care of it,” Marik stammered as he backed away. “We’re trying to unbind it!”

The man shook his head slowly. “Unbinding a spirit this strong from yourself is impossible.” He spread his arms, eyes glistening as his chest started to glow with a yellow light. “I’m sorry.”

“Marik! Run!” Zorc screamed in his ear, and Marik scrambled back onto the street just as a bolt of lightning erupted out of the alley behind him. The few pedestrians on the street jumped back, crying out in surprise and shock as Marik booked it down the street.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran, with no idea of where he was going. “What do I do?” he gasped, slowing to a stop at an intersection.

“Marik, listen very carefully,” Zorc said, desperately trying to sound in control despite the panic in its voice. “I’m not strong enough to fight that thing like this. Get me to my shrine, and I might be able to fight back.”

“Which way?”

“Go… go left.” Marik obeyed, catching a glimpse of the man from around corners and through other alleys as he ran. “Of course we get found by fucking Osiris!”

“Osiris?!”

“Never mind that, keep going! This alley to the right - go in the first door on the left! Watch the stairs!” Marik had no choice. He ducked into the doorway and carefully made his way down the stairs, stopping short as he entered the room at the bottom. It was impossibly dark inside, so he turned on his flashlight, his breath catching at the sight of a massive, pitch-black shrine on the opposite wall. “I need you to trust me,” Zorc said as it detached itself from his back, sliding down his arm to become corporeal again. “I just need a few drops of your blood on the altar. That should give me a boost.”

“Blood of the worthy,” Marik said, partly in remembrance and party reading the bloodied words on the wall above the shrine. “Is that really Osiris? The god of the dead?”

“Yes. It’s not unheard of for gods to willingly bind themselves to devout followers. I just personally never saw need to.”

Marik approached the altar, grabbing the knife that had rested on the surface and staring down at it thoughtfully. “He called you the Serpent.”

“The Serpent From The Nile,” Zorc affirmed, keeping its eyes on the door. “The World-Encircler, Lord of Chaos, yes. Apep for short. But I haven’t used that name in a long time.”

Marik grimaced. “We’re bound to the Lord of Chaos. Fantastic.” Regardless, he cut open his thumb just enough to bleed and held his hand over the altar.

Zorc inhaled sharply as blood dropped onto the stone, flexing its claws. “Damn. It's not enough. But it's better than nothing.” Marik dropped the knife and grabbed his phone again, frantically typing a text to Ishizu and Rishid. ‘I’m in trouble,’ he typed. ‘Track my phone. Please hurry!’

Just as he hit ‘send’, the door to the room opened, and the man stood in the entryway. His cheeks had dark streaks on them from where tears had streamed through the kohl lining his eyes. “I take no pleasure in this,” he said, his chest glowing again as electricity crackled around him. “But Apep cannot remain in this world.”

Zorc snarled and lunged, claws extended, only to be intercepted by a shape made of lightning that tackled it to the floor - Osiris. Marik cried out, falling to his knees as every hair on his arms stood up straight from the painful crackling of electricity threatening to crawl under his skin. Zorc swung its tail up at Osiris, its shape vaguely humanoid but otherwise impossible to determine, but it jolted Zorc again, sending both it and Marik reeling.

“Such is my duty,” the man said mournfully, staring down at Zorc as it struggled on the floor. Osiris started to flare with energy, surely a killing blow from up close. Marik summoned all of his strength to stumble to his feet and charge at the man with a scream. The man clearly hadn’t expected it as he took the hit, falling to the floor with a grunt.

Osiris looked back, allowing Zorc to claw at its face and push it off. Deep gouges appeared on the man’s face where Zorc hit Osiris, and the man cried out in pain, pushing Marik away to scramble to his feet. Marik skidded across the floor, sitting upright just in time to watch Zorc charge the man and bury its claws in his chest.

The man made a choked, gurgling sound, blood dribbling from his mouth as he stared at Zorc, eyes wide. For a long moment, all was still, Osiris floating mid-air and sparking erratically. Zorc turned to look at it and said, “You picked a good host, Osiris.” It turned back to the man, arm flexing as it grasped at something in the man’s chest. “The Field of Reeds awaits you, brave one.” Zorc gripped his shoulder with its free hand and, with the other, tore out a red, pulsing thing, illuminated by the flickers of Osiris before it faded into nothing with an audible ‘zap!’.

Marik knew what was in Zorc’s hand, but he couldn’t comprehend it. The corners of his vision went dark, and his arms gave out, sending him to the ground as the world faded into darkness.

Zorc turned to look at Marik upon hearing him hit the floor. “Hm. Squeamish,” it commented to itself, shaking its head. It was probably for the best, honestly. It let the man go, leaving his body to slide down the wall, and stared at the still-hot heart giving its final, futile beats in its hand. It knew what to do next. Zorc brought the heart to its lips, letting the taste of blood fill its mouth as it bit down, the lean meat easily giving way to its jaws. The slight crackle of ozone danced along its tongue, and its pupils expanded, forming wide, black circles that nearly overtook the sea of red they sat on. It had been too long.

Bloodlust took over from there, its teeth ripping through cardiac muscle, its claws tearing further into the man’s body to pull out his liver and devour that, too, and then one of his lungs for good measure. The only reason it didn’t eat the other one was that it was thoroughly satiated after the first, licking the blood off of its claws and feeling the power of a god-bound heart start to course through its veins. It was so much stronger now, revitalized with the remnants of Osiris’ energy, and it summoned a heatless flame to incinerate the man’s remains with a satisfied sigh.

Only then did it turn back to Marik, licking its lips. Yes, it was for the best he hadn’t been awake for this part - no need for him to see just how a god feasted. A buzzing sound came from Marik’s pocket, and Zorc gingerly pulled it out, looking at the screen to see unread messages pop up. ‘I’m on my way’, the screen said under the name Ishizu. ‘Where are you?’

Zorc sighed and glanced back down at Marik. “Oh, Ishtar. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

Chapter Text

“Marik.” He woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice and sunlight burning through his eyelids. He opened his eyes to see Ishizu leaning over him as he rested in her lap, her brows creased in concern. She relaxed substantially on seeing him awake and asked, “Are you alright?”

Marik groaned, blinking up at his sister. “Where…”

“I found you in that basement,” Ishizu explained, stroking his hair in an attempt to soothe him. “You texted us. Rishid’s on his way.”

The basement. Marik struggled to sit up, saying, “Is he still down there? There was a man - he attacked me, but -” He saw a flash of Zorc pinning the man to the wall, something red and pulsing in its claws, and he nearly passed out again, a wave of nausea making his stomach roll.

“You were the only one down there, Marik,” Ishizu said, pulling him back down. “Someone attacked you?”

“Osiris,” Marik mumbled, closing his eyes and wishing desperately for the world to stop spinning.

Before Ishizu could pry further, the sound of echoed footsteps caught both of their attention. “Rishid,” Ishizu called, and the footsteps came to a stop at Marik’s side. “He said someone attacked him. Marik, what do you mean, ‘Osiris’?”

Marik sat upright, holding his head. “Ugh… I…” If there was a way to explain what had happened in a way that sounded in the realm of reality, he couldn’t think of it now. So instead, he said, “Take me home, please. I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

Ishizu and Rishid helped him to his feet and brought him to Ishizu’s car. The drive back to his apartment was tensely quiet, as Marik spent most of it with his head in his hands, trying to process what had happened in that basement. He couldn’t get his assailant’s tearful blue eyes out of his head - he hadn’t wanted to kill Marik, he just thought he had to. And now he was dead. He had to have been. But where had he gone?

He blinked back into reality as the car pulled to a stop, and he led Ishizu up to his apartment, Rishid pulling up to follow closely behind. He took a seat on the couch, his shoulder burning. Right, that was the whole reason he’d been going home today. “I, um… Saif…” Marik started, swallowing hard. Start from the beginning. “So when we got robbed, Saif told you he ran, right? Well… he ran into that basement.”

“Marik,” Ishizu said softly, taking a deep breath. “This has to do with that shrine, doesn’t it?”

Marik glanced at her with only a flicker of surprise. If she’d gone into the basement, obviously, she would have seen the shrine. “Yeah. Saif… summoned something from it.” Marik felt something crawling along his back and towards his shoulder - Zorc was still with him. He’d figured as much. “Saif bound it to us on accident.”

“Osiris?”

“No. Osiris is the one that attacked us today. The thing attached to us…” Marik sighed. “It calls itself Zorc, but it also used to be called Apep.”

Ishizu’s eyes widened, and Rishid sat upright, posture stiff and defensive. “You’ve… you’ve bound yourselves to Apep? The Apep?”

“I didn’t know that until this morning. It just goes by Zorc now.” Marik paused, turning his head to address Zorc, who he assumed had hidden on his body. “Want to say hi? I’m assuming you’re back there.”

Sure enough, he could feel something crawling up his back, and he winced, reaching out his arm. Ishizu and Rishid watched, expressions twisted in a mixture of horror and shock, taking each others’ hands as Zorc started to reform itself. “For what it’s worth,” it said, a menacing shape of smoke that slowly solidified in the middle of the living room. “I haven’t gone by Apep in millennia.”

“Marik,” Ishizu whispered in disbelief but said nothing else.

Marik stared down at his hands, feeling rather embarrassed about it all. “So, when I texted you the other day… We’re hoping to find a way to undo this. We haven’t had any luck looking here in Luxor.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rishid asked, tearing his gaze away from the now-solid draconic demon to look at his brother.

“Most likely because he and Saif have a little too much pride,” Zorc chimed in, resting against the back of Marik’s chair. “They think they can do it all themselves.”

Marik flushed slightly and said, “To be fair, we didn’t exactly think we’d be getting attacked by other gods.”

“I didn’t, either. It’s rare for someone to be devout enough to catch a god’s attention; even more rare for them to agree to binding.”

“Wait,” Ishizu interrupted, holding up her hands. “Start from the beginning, please. How did this happen?”

Zorc spoke before Marik could even open his mouth. “Saif stumbled upon my altar running from those men that attacked him. I killed them and, in return, asked him to free me.” Zorc rolled its eyes. “He decided to try and bind me further - an attempt to make sure I wouldn’t cause any trouble, I’m sure - but he did the wrong ritual and bound me to himself instead.”

“That’s sounds like Saif,” Rishid said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He means well, but he tends to be… short-sighted.” He looked back up, shaking his head. “However we can help fix this, we will.”

Marik stood from the chair to wrap his siblings in a hug. “I know I should’ve just told you. I wasn’t… I thought it was going to be easier. I wanted to prove I can take care of myself.”

Rishid gently rubbed his back, and Ishizu rested her chin on Marik’s shoulder, silent for a moment before she looked up to Zorc. “Will there be more people trying to kill you and Marik?”

Zorc crossed its arms and thought for a moment. “Maybe. I think Osiris’ host was a fluke - we just happened to cross paths. No doubt other entities sensed when I entered this world, but they can’t pinpoint my location unless they’re close by. That being said, the sooner we get this fixed, the better.”

“Alright.” Rishid pulled away, nodding to Ishizu. “Well, I can take off whatever time I need. What should our first move be?”

“You mentioned Alexandria,” Marik said, nestling between his siblings on the sofa. “It’d be easiest to fly there, right?”

“Yes. Luckily, we’ve been meaning to outreach to the Coptic Museum anyway, so I can say I’m traveling for work.” Ishizu nodded to Marik. “We can go whenever you’re up to it.”

Marik stood up to go check the calendar next to the front door. “I hurt my shoulder working today, so… I could probably get away with asking for tomorrow off to recuperate. Do you think we could get this done in one day?”

“Certainly, but…” Ishizu looked at Zorc again with a small frown. “I don’t know how we can explain… you.”

“Luckily, I have good news on that front.” Zorc smiled and, in an instant, shifted again. Its claws dulled and lightened, taking the shape of regular hands, and its extremities retracted, leaving it looking entirely human… and entirely naked. Thankfully, it was positioned behind the chair for modesty. “Consuming a god-bound heart gave me a nice boost - enough to let me completely glamour myself.” It looked over its shoulder at Marik, its eyes light red and utterly normal. “So now you don’t have to look like you’re having entire conversations with yourself.”

“Oh!” Marik exclaimed, averting his eyes out of politeness. Unfortunately, in going to check the calendar, there wasn’t anything in his path that could censor Zorc’s naked back. But the awkwardness of the situation only distracted him for a moment as the gravity of what Zorc had just said settled on him.

Rishid had caught it, as well. “Consuming a god-bound heart?” he asked, voicing Marik’s exact thoughts. “What does that mean?”

“Well, the only way to kill a god is to kill its bound host. And being imbued with that kind of power… it makes you into a particularly satisfying meal for something like me.”

“You tore out his heart,” Marik muttered, flashes of the basement coming back to him and leaving him feeling queasy again. “And you… ate it.”

“Sit down before you pass out again, Ishtar. So squeamish, honestly,” Zorc said with a little laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s common in people who are bound to gods. I don’t think Osiris would’ve done the same, but then again, Osiris is kind of a prude.”

Marik obeyed, sitting back down in the chair and taking a deep breath. “…Is? But you killed it.”

“No. I killed a fragment of it. Do you really think a god would give someone its entire essence?” Zorc rolled its eyes again and huffed. “That man only had a fraction of Osiris’ power, and you only have a fraction of mine. Or, you would have, if I wasn’t bound to this form. What I did was probably just a blow to his ego, nothing more.”

“And the body?”

“Incinerated.” Zorc tilted its head slightly. “You can’t help me if you’re worried about a body count.”

Marik lowered his eyes with a frown. That didn’t make him feel any better - the man’s tearful blue eyes settled uneasily in his head. “He didn’t want to kill me.” Rishid reached over to hug him again.

“Hey.” Zorc snapped its fingers from behind the chair. “Focus. He knew what he was getting into - the god-bound rarely die peacefully. Once you unbind me, we won’t have to worry about this anymore.”

“Right.” Marik sat upright, clearing his throat. “Let’s head out early tomorrow, then. Although… you’re going to need clothes if you’re going to look like that.”

Zorc looked down at itself. “Right. A naked person would draw just as much attention as a demonic entity.”

“We can go shopping. I need to get on my bike anyway.”

“Alright. I can book the tickets,” Ishizu said before rising.

She and Rishid wrapped Marik in one last group hug before departing, and Marik rested his head against the door as it closed behind them. “I guess… you can try on some of my clothes,” he said, still facing away from Zorc. “It’ll give us an idea on where to start for you.”

“Alright.” Marik could hear Zorc moving, shuffling into the bedroom, and eventually followed with a sigh.

Zorc was a bit smaller than Marik, its body somewhat frail-looking compared to his. Marik couldn't help but frown - it almost looked malnourished. But it tried on a couple of Marik's clean t-shirts and spare jeans, and Marik was a bit flustered. With its unnatural elements hidden away, aside from black scales creeping up from between its legs almost modestly, Zorc looked like a normal person who couldn't have been any older than him. "Okay. I think I have a good idea of what to look for," Marik said, trying to sound normal. "Let's go. We have a little time before the shops start to close."

"Very well." Zorc dropped the glamour and re-attached itself to Marik, settling on his arm versus his back. Marik grabbed his bag and his helmet before heading out to the parking lot.

Despite himself, his heart rate spiked in excitement as he saw his bike still safely tented under a tarp. He pulled the tarp back to reveal the red-painted, rather old-fashioned-looking motorcycle, the metal chrome gleaming splendidly, and let pride bubble up in his chest. “Zorc, let me introduce you to my baby,” he said quietly, pulling his helmet over his head and taking a seat.

“Your… baby?” Zorc asked, confused, as Marik flipped the kickstand and started walking it backward. “Ah. I assume this is the ‘bike’ Saif mentioned.”

Marik smiled to himself. Of course, Saif had told Zorc about his bike. “I won’t be able to hear you once we get going. I hope you don’t get carsick.” With that, he kicked on the engine, joy buzzing through his body as it roared to life, and peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. The wind whipping around him was a comforting sensation as he drove, and his mind emptied of any thoughts beyond the road. It was with mild reluctance that he pulled to a stop outside of a clothing store. "Just like… poke me if you see anything you like."

With Zorc's approval, Marik was able to pick up a couple of basic outfits and get out just a few minutes before the store closed. It hadn't picked out anything special, although its style veered dark, but it looked passably human, and… kind of cute. If Marik hadn't known any better, he would have assumed Zorc was just a foreign tourist. "Hm. A bit restrictive," Zorc commented, frowning down at its jeans.

"Good thing it's temporary." Marik had stopped at the grocery store on the way home and picked up some microwave meals for the night. After nearly dying, he didn't have the energy to cook. He sat down with a meal on the couch and watched some late-night TV - Zorc went without dinner, though, sitting down next to him to watch the evening news. "You're not hungry?"

"Osiris' host will hold me over for a day or two."

Marik frowned to himself, but an incoming text from Ishizu pulled his attention to his phone. "We're going to be leaving pretty early," he told Zorc as he read her message. "She has our tickets - only three, though. I figure you can hitchhike for the flight and glamour once we land, so I can pack your clothes in my luggage."

"That's fine," Zorc said, tilting its head and huffing as the news talked about a disturbance earlier downtown. "For your sake, let's hope this trip won't be as eventful as today was."

"Yeah, I'd rather not be electrocuted or incinerated or whatever other ways the gods might want to kill you. And… I'd rather not have to watch you kill anyone else, either."

"Your aversion to the cycle of life and death is so frustratingly… human." Zorc stood, cracking its neck. "Well, I'm going to bed. Try not to need anything from me."

"Duly noted. Let me grab something quick." Marik quickly grabbed his journal and a pen before returning to the living room to write out some thoughts and a quick summary of the plan to Saif just in case. As he turned off the TV and settled into his makeshift couch-bed, he couldn't get Osiris' host out of his head. He wished that he'd had anything to identify him with; if he had a family, they deserved to know. Zorc had mentioned the Field of Reeds - if that was true, at the very least, Osiris' host was at peace.

It took a long while for him to fall asleep, and his sleep was, thankfully, dreamless.