Oh my God. Over a year. You guys have no idea how sorry I am. The worst part? This chapter has pretty much complete for the last four months, but there were two scenes that just refused to be put together. However, the original last chapter was about two pages long and exactly like the movie, so a lot of rewriting was needed to wrap everything up. Although the ending was still the same in my original draft.

Okay, so that's no excuse. But you guys should at least know that '2nd Labyrinth' is well on its way, and there is a trailer for this fanfic on YouTube. That is, if anybody is still reading it ^-^;

I want to send a big thank you to all my reviewers, especially to all the new reviewers who read it and reviewed even though it looked like it had been dropped. And to all the old reviewers who are still around, I promised you guys I would finish it and I will. It might take another two years (though I will try to not let it get that bad) but finish it I shall.

Most of all, I want to both say "thank you" and "I sorry" to my reviewer "One Percent". She once called me her favorite author and this her favorite story. I doubt both are still true, since people's tastes change over the years, but she welcomed this story back with open arms after a two-year absence before and I am praying that she is as forgiving this time. So "One Percent", this chapter is for you.

1st Labyrinth…

Chapter 14: Thirteen O'clock…

"If only I'd gone with them…" That was Marik's first thought when he arrived at the top of the staircase. The very sight of this new room – no, this new maze – unnerved him, made him want to turn tail and run back down into the safety of his friends' arms. In fact, he had already taken half a step backwards before he realized what he was doing.

"No," he said. "This is no different than anything I've faced up until now. It's a maze, and there is always a correct pathway hidden in a maze. I just have to find it. Mokuba is counting on me to find it…"

Taking a deep breath, Marik looked around the room. It was a positively cavernous space; vast, deep and high, and filled with hundreds of stairways and ledges that were placed at odd angles. Arched doorways disappeared into the walls at odd intervals. Some were upright, situated at the centre of two converging downward staircases. One doorway that Marik saw was sideways, accessed by a pathway that, if a person were to follow, would leave them standing on the ceiling. Some doorways were upside-down, the curved 'ceiling' of the stairway beyond looking like the slippery-slide from hell.

And there, hanging from the ceiling above a fifty foot drop, inside a small iron cage and curled up in a tight ball… was Mokuba.

Marik called out to him across the wide cavern, screamed as loud as he could, "Mokuba! Mokuba, I'm here now! I'll save you, I promise!"

"He can't hear you," Bakura's voice echoed in his mind again, just the same as it had before this whole ordeal had started. "He's unconscious. The spell has been put into effect already."

Marik paled.

"…Spell?" He looked from side to side. "Where are you, Bakura?" Teeth clenched, fangs bared, Marik barked out, "You tell me what you've done to my brother!"

Marik suddenly found his arms stapled to his side by a strong forearm that looped around his chest, whilst another arm looped around his chin in a tight headlock. A gust of warm breath ghosted over his ear.

"Now, Marik," Bakura said icily. "I already told you that no one orders me around." Marik felt the grip on his neck tighten and he gasped.

"No one," Bakura hissed.

"So-," Marik rasped, his lungs screaming for air. "Sorry t-to break tradition!" He shifted his weight and jabbed his heel down on Bakura's foot.

The king did not even flinch.

Marik felt sharp teeth nip at his ear, biting hard enough to draw blood. He whimpered in pain.

"Oh yes, mortal," Bakura whispered in something akin to masochistic ecstasy. "You see now, don't you? You see now what I am truly like… Did you really think that you could beat me at my own game with that handful of pawns that you managed to gather…?"

With air coming slowly to his lungs and his vision swimming from the loss, Marik was suddenly feeling the full weight of his challenge to Bakura. Magical powers aside, Bakura was strangling him with his bare hands; strong hands that were fresh to the battle whilst long hours of trekking through harsh, hostile terrain had pushed Marik to his physical limit.

…pushed to your limit…

Illusive and fleeting as they were, those words, that snippet of memory, helped clarity returned for a brief moment. Once again, and possibly for the last time, Marik found himself being saved by the words of his favorite novel back home – the novel that started it all…

"I... chagh..." Marik gagged, scrapping at Bakura's arm to try to loosen his grip. He scraped the skin below the king's pale shirtsleeve and specks of blood soaked into the fabric, but Bakura's hold did not loosen. "…allenge…. you!"

Bakura's eyebrows rose and he finally let go of Marik, letting the child slump to the floor.
Marik held his throat as he coughed and gulped down air.

"Pardon?" Bakura said in mock politeness. "I didn't quite hear that."

Marik panted, lifting himself to his knees, and then standing slowly. "I… I said I… ch-challenge you," he turned, clenching his fists at his sides, "to a duel."

Bakura blinked at him a few moments, something turning in his gut as he caught sight of the reddened flesh of Marik's throat. He banished the feeling and instead threw his head back in a sinister laugh.

"You can't be serious!" He smirked, fangs glinting in the low light. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. I mean, you did read that book close to twenty times over."

The Labyrinth is full of mazes; of walls that move and shift and lead you in circles, of goblins who pose illogical questions to hinder you, of trap doors that send you spiraling down into a hellish environment where only the damned have trod…

One could use this logic to justify that the Labyrinth itself is essentially a single gigantic, albeit one-sided, game. And, as with all games, there is always a solution to be found if one looks hard enough.

However, of all the games and puzzles, riddles and tricks that the Goblin King has at his disposal, there is one 'game' – the ultimate game – in which he cannot cheat.

This game has been passed down through generations of royals; The Shadow Duel.

You see, dear reader, inside the heart of everyone, Labyrinthian and human and goblin alike, dwells a creature that is shaped by the nature of that person; a good monster from a good soul and a wicked monster from a wicked soul. Most lower class Labyrinthians are not even aware of the existence of these creatures. The very first Goblin King, however, did know of these creatures, and devised a way to bring the beast out of his heart as a means of protection against those who wanted his crown. Before his death, the ancient king passed on this secret to his son. The knowledge has been instilled within the royal bloodline ever since.

This is all that I am at liberty to tell you. This and one other thing.

If all hope is lost, and you find yourself pushed to your limit and staring down the Goblin King with no way out, then you must challenge him to a duel…

…for he cannot decline.

"Very well," Bakura said seriously. "I accept your challenge."

The king lifted his arms, fingers cascading through empty air in a move of sweeping grandeur. Small blue lights materialized in the air, twining around his fingers, gathering in his palms. Marik blinked, and just like that, Bakura was holding two shining rectangular objects in his outstretched hands.

"What…?" Marik looked on in awe. The air was warmer now, tinted with the scent of lavender, and accompanied by a humming noise that caressed Marik's ears, the same sight and sounds flooding him now as they did all those hours ago when he first said those fateful words…

The Goblin King was humming now, and Marik closed his eyes and luxuriated in the low tenor.

The humming stopped and Marik opened his eyes again to behold a beautiful sight: Bakura was glowing, a soft golden light surrounding his features that made his half-lidded eyes look like pools of melted ruby. His hair and clothing floated around him, silver locks and black leather adding to that otherworldly beauty that the king alone seemed to posses.

Marik could not remember how long he had dreamed of beholding a sight like this.

'My favorite character is using magic before my very eyes…'

The light died, vanishing as it was sucked into the two shining objects in Bakura's palms.

'… and it's only because we are about to fight… to the death…'

Bakura stood before him now, arms still outstretched.

"Choose your weapon, sir," he said jokingly, a hint of an ironic smile showing.

Marik reached out an uncertain hand to hover over Bakura's right palm. As he moved to touch the object, a spark of purple-black lightning shot out from the glowing brick and singed his hand. He retracted his fingers quickly, inspecting them.

His palm was blistered. His fingers were bleeding, the wounds from his stint in the Goblin City pipelines reopened.

Bakura smirked, amused.

He looked at the king's left hand. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out again. This time, he felt a warm pulse, like a faint heartbeat, beneath his fingers. He closed his hands around the glowing object and picked it up. It morphed in his hand, the shape expanding until Marik's fingers were wrapped around something resembling a pipe.

When Marik saw what it was, he blinked.

A… rod, of some kind. Golden, with an eye at the top and batwings branching out from it.

Bakura smirked as a new type of energy began to pulsate around him, a darker energy. Marik gasped and stumbled back as thick, black tendrils erupted from Bakura's left hand and snaked themselves quickly around his body. Slowly, slowly, the Goblin King disappeared behind a wall of liquid-like smoke. But before those red eyes disappeared completely, his disembodied voice gave a sinister laugh.

"Thank you… for the curse."

Then the smoke seemed to cave in on itself slightly, before exploding outward in a wave of energy that knocked Marik of his feet and carried him backwards into a wall. His back hit concrete and he gave a startled cry before falling to the floor.

"Well," Bakura's voice came again, suddenly an octave lower and very close by. "This is disappointing. You're down for the count and the duel hasn't even begun yet."

Marik pried his eyes open to see a pair of tan shoes and thick, bronze legs, with a golden anklet wrapped about one calf. Marik's eyes widened as he followed the legs up to see a dark blue kilt wrapped below tight abs, and a crimson red cloak hanging precariously on broad shoulders.

"Who… who are you?" Marik bolted into a kneeling position. "Where's the king?"

The male threw his head back and boomed a laugh. Short, dirty-white locks fluttered about his head and a pale scar on his right cheek twisted with every minute change of expression. A large golden ring adorned with seven sharp pointers hung from a rope around his neck.

Then amethyst eyes – so similar and yet so different from Marik's own – opened to stare down at him.

"Foolish mortal. I am the king," he said. Then he smirked. "My father didn't mention this part of the duel, did he?" He took a step forward and Marik ducked to the side, holding the rod out in front of him threateningly.

Bakura laughed again.

"You don't use a Millennium Item that way, Marik." He cupped his hands around his own item. Suddenly, Bakura's shadow seemed to wobble beneath him, taking on a life of its own at it stretched out behind him, detaching from the ground and enlarging to form a terrifyingly monster-like silhouette.

"Diabound, come forth!" Bakura's voice echoed throughout the chamber, washing over the shadow's form and somehow transforming it into a thick, solid creature with burning red eyes and a large mouth full of sharp, misshapen teeth. It was massive, and this was probably the only room in existence, Marik thought, that was large enough to hold it.

"Well…?" Bakura tapped his foot.

Marik nodded. 'Right! I can do this! I have to do this!' He risked a glance upwards. '…For Mokuba's sake.'

Gripping his own Millennium Item, Marik concentrated on thinking of a scary monster to aid him. What he ended up picturing was Isis during PMS. And while yes, that was scary, it was not quite the angle he was going for. But the image was soon wiped out by something else…

A growl emerged from somewhere deep within his chest, tapering off into a screech, and Marik suddenly realized that he could feel something actually pulling him backwards. Turning around, he saw that his shadow was expanding too, rising up behind him in an enormous bird-like shape.

"Call it, Marik," Bakura whispered with something akin to pride lacing his voice. "If you are truly meant to be a part of this world, then it will accept the name you give it…"

And just like that, there were words on Marik's tongue that were heavy in a way that regular words never could be. He just had to think of a name to accompany them…

The creature behind him screeched and writhed, and Bakura's beast roared and sneered in response. Two great powers stared each other down; like a God and a Devil.

'A God…' The thought churned in Marik's mind, and he glanced behind at his creature. 'I need you to fight as best you can… I need you to be my salvation… I need you to save me and my brother! Can you save us?'

The great shadow shrieked in assent.

Marik's voice rose to meet it, calling out his summons, "Then arise, Winged Dragon of Ra!"

Light flooded the room, branching out from Marik's monster as the beast's features filled out.

Marik did not need to look in order to know what his creature looked like. He already knew.

Gold would cover its enormous body, the color akin to Marik's hair.

An orb of lapis lazuli would be imbedded in its forehead, as striking as Seto's gaze.

Lastly, its eyes would be red. Blood red, like Bakura's had been only seconds earlier.

Ra was Marik's monster; it was him and it was his best friend and it was his savoir.

And now they were going to fight together.

…

In the dungeon, pieces of brick crumbled from the walls as the entire castle above shook on its foundation.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Adina was saying as she ran. Running in front of her was Atem, who used the guard's confusion to his advantage as he took them out one by one.

A piercing screech echoed through the corridors and Seto, still being carried like a newborn by Tristan, slammed his hands over his sensitive ears they began to ring.

"What the hell is that?"

"Don't know," Tristan said. "Doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard."

"It's happening," Adina whimpered. "I can feel it. The king's magic is pulsating throughout the entire castle. But it's so odd! It's like the magic is coming from two separate entities!"

Atem cast a worried look back at them. "You don't think…?"

Even Tristan, who had no experience with magic, knew what he was insinuating.

"Marik," Seto growled.

Atem turned back to face the oncoming squadron of guards. "That means it's begun! The final battle has begun!"

"It can't!" Seto screamed. "It just can't! We're stuck down here! We can't help him!" He thumped a fist against Tristan's chest and buried his face in the ogre's shirt.

Tristan felt the cloth becoming wet, but he did not say anything.

…

"Pinnacle Shockwave!" Bakura commanded, and Diabound brought its arms together, conjuring up a dense ball of blue energy in its palms. A second later, it released that energy in a blinding flash. It burned a white-hot path in the stone floor, barreling towards Marik with all the force of a runaway train.

Marik gasped, barely managed to call out, "Ra!" before everything went white.

Bakura gave a satisfied grin as he watched smoke bellow about the room. Where Marik had been standing was barren, a charcoaled and pot-marked section of floor being all that remained.

"You don't put up much of a fight," the king laughed quietly. Then his smirk dropped and he screamed, "DIABOUND, MOVE!"

His beast swerved to the side a moment too late.

A blast of golden energy came from behind, sliced across Diabound's arm. Bakura felt it too, a searing pain that made him feel as though he had just stuck his arm in a kiln. He gasped, and then bit his lip so hard that blood dribbled down over his chin.

Diabound stooped over, and Bakura got a chance to look over its shoulder at the presence he had felt just in time.

Marik stood atop Ra's golden shoulder blade, one hand resting gently on the beasts face. Both were panting. Both were bloody. Both had obviously narrowly escaped Bakura's last attack.

But both looked determined as hell.

…

Malik managed to keep his footing, but Isis did not.

He stumbled and bounced on the balls of his feet as he ran, but she went down like a lead balloon, tripping over her own feat and scrapping her knees and palms on the rough gravel of the road.

Malik stopped, cursed, and tried to help her up without falling himself.

It seemed as if the whole world was shaking on its foundation.

The wheat in the vast fields beside them was quivering with the tremors, and the sky was eerily dark now, thunder crackling on the horizon and thin splinters of lightening streaking through the sky.

Malik's eyes narrowed. "Something is wrong. It's far too early for it to be this dark." He checked his watch.

And the color drained from his face.

This… this was some kind of trick! That was his watch, but the face of it was glowing a ghostly golden hue. Moreover, the time was…

'…Three minutes to thirteen o'clock?'

Beside him, Isis lifted her head and gasped.

"Malik…"

Malik looked down at her, his voice softened with shock. "What…?"

Isis pointed to the sky. Malik followed her finger.

Nothing. At first.

Then a flash of lightening illuminated the sky and Malik saw it: big, gargantuan beast-like shapes. They dived into one another, clawed and ripped at each other during every brutal collision.

Malik growled, not liking the fact that he was clueless in such a situation.

"Yeah," he said. "Something is defiantly wrong."

…

Marik gritted his teeth as Diabound's massive form ripped past him. Ra's movements were slower than Bakura's beast. Marik knew he had the disadvantage.

"Pinnicle shock wave!" Came the loud command.

Marik pressed his body closer to Ra's and yelled, "Bank right!"

Ra dived to the side as black-blue energy ripped open the air centimeters from Marik's face. A spark of electricity grazed Ra's shoulder, and Marik felt it rip through him like a hot knife.

…A hot knife… pain… and Rishid's voice saying, "No! Get away from Marik!"…

'No,' Marik thought with a growl. 'No reminiscing. Bakura is my opponent now.' He jolted upright, gripping firmly onto Ra's armor. "We have to win! God Blaze Cannon!"

The attack was faster than Diabound's. It burst from Ra's mouth as if something unearthly had pulled the attack from the creature. Marik felt the drain as energy was siphoned from both him and his beast.

'Please let this work,' he thought. 'Because I'm not sure if I'll be conscious after this to get off another shot.'

A second too slow.

That was all it took; the fact that Bakura was a second too slow.

The blast ripped through Diabound's shoulder, taking the entire left arm with it. Bakura screamed in agony and Marik took his chance.

"Now… Phoenix Mode…" The command was weak, and Marik felt more tired than he had since the start of his journey, but Ra obeyed.

The Egyptian God spread its wings and climbed higher into the air. Its cold golden exterior seemed to melt into a skin of pure fire. Marik felt the heat, a new burn on the surface of his skin to match the burn of the overworked muscles below.

Ra was high in the air, and Marik saw Mokuba across the cavern and the shock on Bakura's pain-ridden face below.

And one word spilled from the child's lips.

"Dive…!"

Ra pulled its wings in and shot downward like a blazing comet, ripping through the air and plowing right into – and then through – Diabound's stomach.

Bakura and his beast screamed in unison, fire alighting on both their skins before Diabound vanished, along with Ra's new form.

Then Ra slowly began to dematerialize as well, a final victorious cry dragged echoing throughout the maze.

Marik screamed as the ground rushed up to meet him.

…

Malik watched one of the great beasts fall to the earth as they ran, full pelt, down the last stretch of road.

Isis was crying, the moonlight illuminating the silvery tracks that dripped freely down her cheeks.

This time, Malik did not have to ask what she was crying over.

They had both heard Marik scream.

…

The Millennium Ring hit the ground first, clinking noisily, and then the Rod, which produced a much deeper sound.

Marik felt his hands slipping; both the hand gripping the crumbling rock ledge, and the one clasping onto the unconscious Goblin King's shirt.

At least Bakura was back to his normal pale and skinny self, Marik thought. He did not think that he could have held onto the tan Bakura for half as long.

Crimson eyes opened slowly, and widened as Bakura comprehended his predicament.

Marik felt the strain ease, and Bakura's words, unnaturally soft, floated up to him.

"You can let go now."

The boy did so, and watched as Bakura levitated up and past him, landing gracefully on the ledge.

For a split second, Marik had a vision of the Goblin King crushing his hand beneath his shoe, ending the game once and for all. But Bakura stooped down and lifted Marik up to stand beside him.

The second they were both on solid ground, Bakura's body began to glow – a soft blue tint that was far less threatening than the last time. A small orb, no bigger than a marble, emerged from the king's chest. He looked at it, resigned, as the glow faded.

"Your prize," he said. A flick of his wrist, and a small silver chain began to grow from the orb until it became a pendant. Marik eyed the new creation warily as it floated up to fasten itself around his neck.

His hand rose tentatively, running over the smooth glassy surface.

"What –?"

"Half of my power," Bakura answered tonelessly. "A prize predetermined for anyone who defeats a Goblin King in battle." He turned away. "Now get going. You're half way there with a minute left. Good luck."

Marik's eyes widened. He glanced up at Mokuba, his feet moving on their own. A minute left! Half way there! No time to waste!

But… Bakura…

'No! There's no time!' Marik berated himself. He quickly turned and fled up the nearest staircase. 'Don't think about what you're leaving behind! Think about what you have to do! Just run! Keep running until you reach Mokuba!'

Bakura watched as Marik ran further and further out of his reach.

Glowing green liquid sloshed inside a clear crystal orb, and talon adorned fingers clenched around it.

…

Marik kept an eye on Bakura as he traversed the maze. He watched as the Goblin King moved into a lazy sitting position. Marik had sometimes seen painters and poets sit that way on the bank of the river in the park back home, looking like they were pondering the meaning of life itself…

A haunting chime filled the air, so light that Marik was sure he was hearing things, until a low ominous beat joined it. Bakura's eyes were trained on him as he began to sing, in a voice so riddled with emotion that it sent chills down his spine.

"How you've turned my world, you precious thing,

You starve and near exhaust me,

Everything I've done, I've done for you,

I move the stars for no one."

Marik watched the king. This… wasn't another trick. This time, Marik had no problem moving his legs, or thinking logically. No, this was… This was Bakura… baring his soul. And Marik wanted to listen. He had waited years to listen to this...

"You've run so long, you've run so far," Bakura sang on, "You're eyes can be so cruel,

Just as I can be so cruel."

He stopped there, but Marik knew that was not the end. He had read that song a million times in the Labyrinth book. It was an ancient melody, a lullaby of sorts, which told the story of two lovers dying in each other's arms.

Marik was naive about most adult concepts, he knew. But even he knew what it meant for Bakura to be singing such a song right now. The clock was ticking, so Marik began running faster, taking a new upside-down stairway, ducking through another inverted arch. Unthinkingly, he hummed along.

All Labyrinthian songs must be disguised magic incantations; Marik realized, because as he ran, pathways rose to meet him, doors rotated to let his pass safely, stairs carried him further upward on their own. All the while, he was getting closer to the cavern's ceiling… closer to freeing Mokuba.

And then, he began to sing. He needed Bakura to know, now, before he finished the Labyrinth, before they said goodbye forever, just how much the king meant to him.

"Though, I do believe in you,

Yes I do…"

One glace at Bakura revealed the shocked expression on the king's face. Marik went on, his voice echoing beautifully across the cavern, "Live without your sunlight!"

Bakura stood up, leaned back against the wall, head back, throat exposed and eyes closed as he savored the moment. He took the next line, "Love without your heartbeat!"

Marik reached the last pathway, which ended neatly at the open doorway of the cage that held Mokuba. He ran to it, the seconds of the clock ticking away, joining Bakura as they sang the last line in perfect harmony.

"I…I can't live… within you…"

Bakura hung his head, defeated. Marik dived through the cage, hand outstretched…

Just as an enormous bolt of white-hot lightning struck the chain that held the cage in place. It seared through the metal and Marik screamed as he, and Mokuba, plummeted towards the earth.

Bakura shouted, "No!"

And then all Marik saw was darkness.

…

He awoke to a voice that he had been sure he would never hear again.

"You're a fool, you know," Mokuba's childish tone commented. "How long do you think your magic can last on such a powerful spell? Even you can't keep time frozen forever, Bakura…"

The Goblin King's voice was week, pained, "I'll keep it frozen as long as I have to."

Marik lifted his head, his eyes opening blearily. He was sprawled on top of a large portion of the same sandstone pathways he had been running along just moments before. But the slab of rock ended about five meters in every direction, dropping into a sudden swirling abyss of red and purple shadows. It looks like the sky had fallen and lay bruised and bleeding below them.

"Oh. You're awake," Mokuba said, turning around. "Hello, Marik."

"Mokuba…?" Marik murmured confusedly. Then his eyes took in the scene and he went pale. Mokuba's skin was a brown color, with a shiny, leathery look to it. His nose was a foul snout and his now brown hair stuck out demonically. His eyes were still human, but they were the wrong color: an exotic brownish-green. "Oh, please no…"

Mokuba put a hand across his face. "Oh! No, Marik, please don't look! I'm hideous. I'm a goblin now. He made me a goblin." The youth pointed an wrinkled accusing finger at Bakura, who was tied up only a few steps away. He was glowing with an unearthly luminosity, sweating with exertion. And yet, he did not look like he was trying to break free of his bonds. He looked like all his energy was devoted to something else entirely. He lifted his eyes, met Marik's, and said in a pained voice, "Don't… listen…"

Mokuba pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket and gently fastened it over the king's mouth. Bakura did not waste energy in fighting Mokuba off.

"Don't mind him, brother," he said. "We're almost done. That's all that matters. As soon as you take my hand, we'll be transported home. Doesn't that sound good?"

Marik narrowed his eyes. "Where are we?"

"The Shadow Realm," Mokuba answered too calmly. "A hellish void existing between the realm of the Labyrinth and the human realm. This place is ruled by black magic, forbidden magic. The king is weak here. It takes all his energy to cast a single spell. We should be grateful to whoever brought us here. And we should leave now, while we have the opportunity."

Marik looked at his brother's outstretched hand and then back at Bakura. The snippet of conversation he had heard upon waking was repeating over and over inside his mind. Mokuba wouldn't call anyone a fool, and he certainly wouldn't know as much about spells and different types of realms as he currently did. But… maybe he had changed during his stay in the Labyrinth, on the inside as much as the outside...

Was this really his little brother…?

"Mokuba," Marik started, inching towards the boy slightly. "I'm glad you're safe. I'm sorry you went through this and I know how much you must want to go home. But, just hold on a few seconds longer, okay?" He turned his attention to the kneeling king. "I can't leave this place until I know Bakura is alright."

He started toward the Goblin King, the monarch's surprised eyes trained on him. Mokuba growled and ducked in front of him.

"No! Don't get any closer!" he warned. "He's dangerous! You have no idea what kind of sick, twisted things he tried to do to me!"

Behind the half-goblin, Bakura's eyes blazed with an angry fire.

Marik looked down at the boy, at the way he was so desperately scared of Marik going near Bakura. But… that wasn't the way trauma worked. If a person hurt you, then you were the one who was afraid to go near them. Marik knew this. Marik knew that he would never have turned his back on his father the way Mokuba was doing with his 'attacker' now.

"You're lying," Marik said angrily. "Mokuba wouldn't act like this! Who are you!"

Mokuba's surprise showed for a split second, before his mouth melted into an unholy smirk. "Well, seems that I've underestimated you again, human." The boy quickly extracted a switchblade from his pocket. "Things would have been so much easier if you'd just followed the script. It's not too late, you know. If you grab my hand now, both you and your brother can go home. Otherwise…" He flicked out the blade and it glinted a heartless gold in the dim light. "I'll take great pleasure in carving your heart out in front of my love, then erasing those painful memories from his mind."

Marik blanched, looking between the two. "Your… love?"

'Mokuba' laughed. "That's right; we haven't been formally introduced, have we? My name is Emily Ioakire, and, well, I'd love to show you my real face, but Labyrinthians don't do so well in the Shadow Realm." Her eyes narrowed, irises glowing briefly. "We aren't like you humans."

The word echoed in every direction.

"Worthless creatures," Emily went on. "I supposed that's why most Labyrinthians look down on you. It really does take a filthy race to produce so much maliciousness throughout history that a whole other realm is born to contain it." She walked over to Bakura, bringing up a hand to stoke his face gently. "Isn't that right, darling?"

The Goblin King growled and jerked his head away. Emily frowned and drew the blade across the skin at his neck. A red line appeared, thin as a paper cut, and oozed blood in a shiny red trail. He let out a pained gasp then, and the glow surrounding him dimmed slightly.

"Oops, don't lose your concentration, now," she teased.

"What's that glow?" Marik asked warily.

"Hmm?" Emily turned to face him again. "Stupid child. One would think that after reading that book so many times, you would know something like this. He's buying you time."

"…Time?"

She smirked, holding up a single finger. "Officially, you have one second remaining on the clock. That is all. And Bakura is keeping that second there for you, stopping time, giving you this last chance to save both your brother and yourself."

She swung around and kicked Bakura in the stomach. He coughed up blood and the glow flickered dangerously.

She looked over her shoulder at Marik, deadly serious, and – for just a moment – he could have sworn he saw a crying, winged woman where Mokuba's body stood.

Emily went on, pulling a small green crystal from Mokuba's other pocket, "And every second he spends performing this spell takes his power down a notch. And now his power is low enough that he won't be able to counter this spell."

"And what's that?" Marik asked, looking at the orb.

"A spell to forget," Emily answered sadly. "That's why I can do this," she slashed the knife down Bakura's arm, creating a shallow bleeding wound and causing the man to cry out into the gag. "And this," she plunged the blade into his upper arm and he let out a muffled scream. Blood spurted out, covering the knife, and Mokuba's clothes. "This is why I can make him pay for hurting me, for taking my devotion for granted!" She stopped, and took a moment to compose herself. "Because, you see, this spell will take away his every memory of the last thirteen hours."

Marik eyes grew wide as the realization set in, "No…"
Emily smirked. "So, you are smart enough to know what that means. He won't remember having ever brought you here. He won't remember anything that transpired since then. All he'll know is that when he wakes up, his devoted Emily will be there to comfort him. I'll tell him how his dear beloved Marik was killed by a bunch of common human thieves, and that while he was in shock over it, some low-class rebels waged war on the castle, broke in and," another slash of the knife and another low hiss of pain, "… wounded him."

Marik paled. A growing sense of dread told him that Emily had three specific Labyrinthians' names in mind…

Emily finally stepped away from Bakura, "But first, I have to kill you."

She was fast. She crouched down and then sprung forward, muscles coiling and releasing like a well-oiled machine. Marik ducked to the side, hissing as the knife's blade sliced through his shoulder.

A dark enclosed space… Ropes binding his hands… A faint blood-red glow from across the room… And his father's low, emotionless voice saying, "Hold still."

Another slice of the knife, this time just over his clavicle, ripping a hole in his favorite shirt. Marik almost tripped over himself, running backwards, always dodging a second too slow as Mokuba's body advance on him, thrusting the switchblade at him relentlessly.

Another swipe, and Marik cried out, deep red splashing across his vision. He fell back, landing in a crouched heap, looking down at the red line stretching across his chest, visible through his ripped open shirt.

Emily caught sight the blue sphere around Marik's neck, swaying just above the fresh wound. She growled, turning on Bakura.

"Half of your magic?" she asked. "So he really did beat you." She turned back around, staring Marik down. She seemed to shake with rage and unhappiness all at once.
"You don't deserve such a gift!" she screamed. "You, who rejected him! You, who can't… Who won't ever love him as much as I do!"

"But I do love him," Marik said.

Emily started, her confusion easily noticeable in Mokuba's soft features.

Over in the corner, Bakura's eyes widened. He blinked once, and just like that, nothing else seemed to matter. Pride, race, gender, age… And even the fact that time was slowly running out for the both of them. None of it mattered, because right then... they were just two people in love. And the Goblin King had never been happier.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner," Marik went on seriously, talking more to Bakura, taking advantage of Emily's sudden muteness.

"I should have told you how I felt sooner," he went on. "But I knew that saying it… would just make me sadder… that I can't stay."

Bakura could not speak, but he knew that if he could, he would again try to convince Marik to stay, using the same old lines: 'Be selfish, forget Mokuba and your family. All you need is me.'

But now Emily was here, and anything Bakura said to incite her would only end in Marik's death.

Bakura was glad he could not speak.

Said girl brandished the knife again, vehement. "Little liar! Sucking up to him won't save your skin now!"

"It's not a lie!" Marik protested, struggling to his feet. "I've never…" He paused. "I've never felt this strongly about anyone before. Since I started reading about the Labyrinth, I always thought of the king as my friend! Bringing me here just made us that much closer!"

Emily's irises contracted, and she screamed out, "Shut up! You aren't any closer to him than I am! I've been by his side for thousands of years! I don't –" She chocked on her words, something that sounded like a sob issuing from her throat. "I don't understand… How can he like you better! How can you be so precious to him?"

Marik glanced at Bakura. "You're right… We aren't close. But… I love him anyway; as a friend, and as someone very special in my life. Someone irreplaceable. No, I don't really know him, not as anything more than the Goblin King." Suddenly, there was a prickling behind his eyes. He turned away, fixing his gaze on the floor in order to hide it. "That's what made completing this maze so damn hard! The fact that… I'll never… get the chance to find out… how close we could have become." Tears brimmed at the corners on the boy's eyes, but none fell. He looked back up, straight at Bakura, with flushed cheeks and clenched fists and a chocked voice.

"I'd like to think that if I stayed here, then I'd have learned at least enough about Bakura to love him… as himself… As more than the Goblin King… As a real person."

Emily realized it a split second before Bakura.

She laughed.

"So I've been worried for nothing!" Her shoulders shook. "All this time, we all thought that it if Bakura could make you love him, you'd stay!" She shot a pointed look at the unhappy king. "But it never mattered either way, did it? Your mind is set on going home, no matter what your feelings for him are."

Bakura lowered his head.

Everything fell into place.

"Look, Marik, Turn the crystal this way and gaze into it. It shows you your dreams…"

"How do I get my brother back, Mr. Bakura?"

Marik always considered his dreams less important than his family.

And love was a kind of dream, right…?

Bakura lowered his head. This was… not what he had expected. Marik loved him… but circumstances would not allow their love to flourish…

Emily looked back and forth between the two. Then she smirked.

Shifting closer to Bakura with that scary sharp blade in one hand and that scary green spell in other, she dragged the point of the blade down Bakura's cheek. She drew blood, and the newly torn gag slipped down around his throat.

He looked up at her, with that same lost gaze that she had seen on him a million times over the years. She had seen it when his father left, and when he thought Mai was plotting against him, and when he had first discovered what it meant to be in love.

"I don't understand," he whispered brokenly, almost angrily. "If he loves me… then why am I still in pain…?" The aura around him flickered again, and weakened. Perfect.

Emily drew her hands around him in a half hug that was hindered by the items she held. "It hurts, doesn't it? I felt like you once… I felt like I was only half-alive… But then Gozaburo gave me a way that we could be together…"

Bakura's eyes opened wide, "Gozaburo –!"

"I'll heal you," Emily whispered one last time.

Then, quick as lightening, she brought the knife between them and plunged it into the king's stomach.

Bakura screamed, loud and raw and the glow around him dimmed and almost died completely.

Blood spurted out, over both Mokuba's and Marik's forms. The latter felt warm wetness splatter over his cheeks.

"Bakura!" Marik screamed.

Emily laughed as the king slumped forward, sprawling out over the floor.

Then Emily stood, held the green sphere before her reverently.

"Sands of time and eternities' flow,

Turn back the clock and make this so,

Thirteen hours since has gone,

Whence children came where they don't belong.

Words to summon the Goblin King,

Naught but disaster did they bring,

Hence let every memory that brought us here,

Be sealed inside this Crystal sphere!"

Suddenly, the sphere in Emily's hands was alive, with green beams of light that flared up around it, then branched out, and shot towards Bakura's still form. The king watched the oncoming light with half-open, pain filled eyes.

"No!" Marik screamed. One step, then another, and Marik's adrenaline was running higher than ever before. He lunged for the sphere, a kneejerk reaction that told him any plan of action was fine as long as it stopped that spell.

The world seemed to slow down in those few seconds as the light closed in on Bakura.

Emily turned, saw Marik, and made a desperate attempt to stop him by plunging her knife into his thigh.

Marik felt a burst of pain that was worse than anything his father had ever done to him. It ripped at his senses and tore at his nerve endings until he did not even realize that he was screaming. The boy's knees buckled and he tipped forward, thrown off balance by the attack. But, before he fell, he managed to grab a small, slim wrist and drag it along with him.

Bakura watched it all in horror as a shadow fell in front of him, and Marik and Mokuba were completely immersed in a sea of green just before that very sea washed over him too.

It was barely noticeable when the white light around Bakura dimmed just that little bit more… and then died completely.

…

The first thing Marik saw when he opened his eyes was the sky; it was a natural pale blue color today. Marik had seen this same sky, this same color, almost every day of his life.

…So he was not sure why seeing it now made him so happy.

The air was warm, and the earth slightly damp. The tops of wheat plants around him swayed gently before his eyes, water droplets dripping from their tips.

Marik sat up slowly, every muscle, vein and artery screaming in protest. His head throbbed in a way that made him feel nauseous. His shirt clung to him uncomfortably, and it was only when he looked down that he realized why. His clothes were in shreds, uneven ends sticking to his body using blood as an uncouth adhesive.

"How…?" His voice was horse and nothing made sense. Had Zygor done this to him? He glanced to the side, and his gaze caught on a dark lump amongst the wheat. He tried to get up and investigate it, but a sharp pain jolted through his leg, forcing him into an odd crouch. His left thigh felt hot. Too hot. And when he looked down, he was almost sick at the sight.

His shoulder was sliced, and his chest had a shallow cut across it, just below his clavicle. But his leg was something out of a horror story; all thick, dripping blood and ripped red-tinted skin, with a knife at the centre, dug in to its hilt.

There was a pricking behind Marik's eyes. A kind of 'why me?' feeling tugging at his mind until the tears finally forced their way out. He sat there for a few minutes, head bent, and tears falling into the wound.

Then he heard it.

"Marik!"

Rusting wheat, and footsteps on dirt.

"Mokuba!"

The dark lump a few feet away stirred.

"Marik!"

He felt a relieved smile cover his face.

They were looking for him. Mokuba and him.

…

Isis sneezed, and tried to draw the jacket tighter around her shivering form.

"Shit woman, don't stretch my jacket!" Malik growled.

"But it's cold and your jacket is too thin!" Isis said. "Maybe if you called out as well, we'd have found them by now."

"Hey, the only calls I make are on my cell." He swung the little black phone by its strap as if to illustrate.

"Then phone Rishid! Ask him to come pick us up! Anything to make yourself useful!"

"Why you -! Don't get all uppity with me, Miss Psychic! You owe me a new motorbike, don't forget!"

"Don't hold your breath for one," Isis grumbled, a sharp shiver travelling through her drenched body as the wind picked up. "I wasn't the one who crashed it…"

He sighed. "Oh well, the paint would have gotten ruined in that sudden freak storm anyway…"
"Yes," Isis mused. "I… I'm not sure what kind of storm that was… Perhaps electric? Perhaps the lightening messed up our brains and that's what made us see…"

Malik gave her a look. "You hear voices in your head and swear they're real… but the big Godlike shadows in the sky that I saw too, you deny?" He shook his head. "And people say I'm the one with the problems."

Isis could not resist. "Insanity would explain your sudden fixation with a watch you've had for years." Then she sped up her pace, awaiting the inevitable declaration of murder from her brother.

Something wrapped around her ankle, stopping her in her tracks. She froze, and her face drained of color. Slowly, she looked down.

"Hey! I am not crazy! Having three counselors does not make you crazy! Just special!" Malik stormed past her. "And it glowed I tell you! It glowed freaky gold and plucked an extra hour out of its ass!" Silence. He turned. "Hey, are you listen–"

Isis's eyes were wide, tears leaking freely over flushed cheeks, her lips drawn up in a disbelieving smile.

Malik followed her gaze downward and met with a pair of relieved Amethyst eyes, a shade lighter than his own.

"Well fuck me sideways," he said, breaking out in a twisted grin. "We found 'em."

…

A twelve-year-old boy sat on a bench under a tree in the middle of Domino Park. White linen bandages – wrapped around his left shoulder and right thigh – were partially visible under his pale lavender t-shirt and dark shorts. His gaze was glued to the grass at his feet, but every few seconds, it would drift to the seat beside him. Then the branches above him. Pause. Back to the seat. Then the branches. Pause. Seat. Branches.

For a few moments, Joey did not understand what was wrong with the picture. This was the way he always found Marik, but something seemed off. He supposed that it was because he had never seen Marik look so fidgety. He usually had something to occupy him, something that drew him into his own private little world…

Realization dawned, and Joey could not suppress a gasp.

There was no owl on the seat. No 'King', as Marik called him.

…And there was no little red book in Marik's hands.

…

"No recollection? Nothing at all?"

"It was… very powerful magic, my queen."

…

Marik lifted his head at the sudden loud intake of breath.

"…Joey?"
There was a pause, as both boys stared at each other across the grassy expanse.

"Hey, Marik…" Joey's voice was subdued. "Where's… where's your book?"

Marik flinched, then smiled and replied, "In a drawer at home."

"I see… And your… 'King'?"

Something achingly sad flashed across the Egyptian boy's face. He gave a last forlorn look at the empty seat beside him. "Not coming, I guess." He patted the spot with a small smile. "Guess that means that you don't have to fight him for it this time, huh?"

Joey quirked a small smile in return, moving to sit. "Yeah… Guess so."

…

"But my cousin remembers everything!"

"He does, milady. But that is only because of Marik. The young Prince may have been transported back home when he grabbed his brother's hand, but the transportation took long enough that the king was spared from Emily's spell."

…

Almost three weeks had gone by since Joey had shown up at Marik's house with an invitation to play and instead been directed to the hospital by a homicidal-looking Malik, who tried to tell Joey about all the wonderful ways there were – in this state alone! – to kill crooks, gang members, and knife-wielding idiots in general.

It was not until Joey had arrived at the hospital that he had been told the story in full.

Marik and Mokuba had been missing for an entire day, until they were found at around 9 o'clock in the morning; out in a cornfield that was over an hour drive away.

Missing, for thirteen straight hours… and Joey hadn't even noticed.

The boy slapped a palm to his head.

"And what, pray tell, did you do that for?" Marik asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No reason…"

An operation to remove a knife from his leg. Stitches. Bandages… Constant questions directed at the entire family from the Chief of Police little over a day later…

"No reason…" Joey sighed, dragging his palm down his face. "Just… I should have been there…"

"No, Joey," Marik said firmly. "Wherever I was. Wherever Mokuba and I were… You should not have been there."

…

"And what of Marik's brother…?"

"The same as Marik, but only by a stroke of luck."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when Emily was hit with the spell, she forgot her involvement in everything. And, as a result, forgot the spell she was using to possess Mokuba. The two split just in time for Mokuba to be transported home with his brother."

"And now Emily is locked up with Gozaburo… It seems almost cruel. I can hear her crying from here. She does not realize why Bakura is treating her like a criminal so suddenly."

…

Joey clenched his fists in his jeans. "I'll make 'em pay. Whoever took you out to the middle of damn nowhere and messed ya up."

"It… wasn't nowhere." Marik's voice was dazed, his features pained. "I can't remember a thing, but…" He reached past the neckline of his shirt, drawing out a small pendant for Joey to view. Heavenly blue, it twinkled in the sunlight.

"When I woke up," he said, "I was wearing this."

Joey became uneasy. "Hey, shouldn't you throw it out then? Who knows what it is!"

Marik shook his head, tucking the item back under his shirt. He held a palm over it. "No… Whatever it is… it makes me feel like wherever I was, it wasn't all bad." Then he let his hand fall and said, "But one thing I know even without the pendant… is that it wasn't nowhere."

Joey hesitated. "Are you… gonna be okay, bud?"

A ball suddenly bounced off Joey's head. He looked upward to glare at the culprit… and his jaw dropped.

…

"And… my cousin…? How does he fare?"

…

Malik was looking at Joey with an annoyed expression, prompting him to return the throw. A few yards closer, Isis stood with her hands still up in the air, as if just registering her failed attempt to catch the ball. Behind them both, resting under the shade of a tree, was a content Jason Trait, his wife sleeping with her head on his lap and Mokuba curled up against them.

When Joey saw Rishid cresting the hill, laden down with ice creams off all sizes, he turned his dumbfounded expression on Marik.

…

"For once, his majesty and Kaiba lie in agreement… That this is all for the best…"

…

"Oi, Mini-me! You've rested your sorry ass enough!" Malik called. "So grab your retarded friend and get over here! The girl can't play worth shit!"

Marik rose from his seat and bestowed Joey with a small smirk.

"Yeah, Joey," he said. "I think I'll be okay."

…

"…Because Marik's happiness is the most important thing… to both of them."

…

Professor Arthur Hawkins watched the buildings of Domino city rise into view. Without removing his eyes from the road ahead, he reached a hand over to the youth sitting next to him and gave the boy a gentle shake.

In the passenger's seat, a young olive-skinned boy, near thirteen years of age, stretched his arms out as much as he could in the cramped space. His jade-green eyes lazily peeled open, black hair falling messily over his shoulders as, with every jostling motion of the car, more and more strands slipped from his once perfect ponytail.

"We there?" He half yawned.

"Yes, Duke," said the Professor. "So you had better hide those wings!"

Casting an annoyed glance over his shoulder, Duke Devlin arched his back ever so slightly, holding the pose until the leaf shaped wings – the same wings common to every other creature born in the fairy village – seemingly dissolved into thin air.

"Don't forget, Professor," the boy said, "those wings are the only reason you have these." He jingled the bag in his lap and a golden puzzle, the shape of an upside-down pyramid, poked out from a tear in the top.

"Oops!" Duke pushed the item back in, hearing it clack noisily against its six counterparts. "But still, it wasn't easy sneaking into the treasury and grabbing these. Even with your teleportation and cloaking magic. I seriously don't think I would have gotten out of there intact if the King wasn't bedridden…"

"Bedridden…?" A slim white eyebrow rose in question. "My son…? Goodness, what happened?"

"A fight," Duke said. "A big one apparently. The whole Labyrinth was talking about it! Apparently, the king was brought back from the shadow realm by one of his servants – some harpy girl. He was covered in blood and had a big hole in his stomach that the healers were going nuts over. I heard that he woke up just before I left, only to sentence the girl who saved him to life in the dungeon."

Arthur looked concerned, a hand stroking his beard. "I'm certain Bakura will heal. The magic in his bloodline will see to that. But… Sentencing a woman to the dungeon just for saving him? Are you sure you've got the complete story?"

Duke shrugged. "No idea. I did hear that just a few minutes before, the king was testing some kid to see if they could beat the Labyrinth. And apparently they did. Someone who was 'very brave and very pretty' beat the entire maze, they said. That person is practically a living legend now!"

The professor took one hand from the wheel and pulled a worn leather book from his pocket. Worse quality that the ones he had commissioned for sale, it was black in color, with the word 'Labyrinth' written in flaking gold along its spine.

"So, someone beat you, did they…?" He whispered to it.
"Yeah," Duke answered in place of the book. "And a human, no less!" The fairy threw a cheeky grin the professor's way. "But they say that's only because the king was lenient. They say he made things easier because he was in love with that human."

"In love, you say…" Professor Hawkins mused. "I think, young Mister Devlin, that I have just been inspired to write a sequel…"

To Be Continued…

So that's "1st Labyrinth". And "2nd Labyrinth" is on its way. Please review, if only to tell me you'll be sticking around to see the sequel.