Relentless: Chapter 7

"How many lives will we take
How many hearts destined to break
Nowhere to run can't escape
Full of ourselves tied to our fate"

_{-Lost (Avenged Sevenfold)-}

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Weeks passed turned into months wasted since Marik's last encounter with his other self. Or at least to Marik the months seemed wasted. Malik, who remained rather quiet throughout the time, insisted that he was keeping a low profile—the best for both of them. Each day passed in a routine, and Marik felt barely any pressure for the first several months. Malik scarcely appeared, and if he did it was only a faint sense of him. It stirred curiosity in Marik, though he knew better than to question Malik and his intentions. Perhaps it was all well that Malik did not bother to converse with him. After all, he held the tomb keeper's life in his own grasps.  
It was the day, nearly a year later and around the time of his eleventh birthday that Malik chose to appear once again. His appearance caused a shiver to run up Marik's spine as he stood over a basin while splashing water onto his face. Behind him, he could feel the spectral form of his other self, though he did not dare to turn around. Malik was gaining some sort of energy to be able to project himself through Marik's mind and vision. Lifting his head and letting the water runoff his skin, the tomb keeper waited for his other side to speak. Malik was silent, though his presence was clear. Marik chose to begin, instead. "What is it?" Marik struggled to keep his voice even, though his irritation showed through. By then, Marik knew that Malik only appeared to declare his desires, as selfish as he always had been.
My, what a warm greeting; good evening to you, too.
"Cut the nonsense, Malik. I thought we had a deal."
Malik contained a laugh as he replied; I have been preparing, other-self. Tonight we escape.
Marik stood a little straighter as he tried to believe what he heard. "Tonight?"
Yes, if not, then tomorrow. But we must scavenge for some spending coin.
"Are you suggesting that I steal coins from the clan? No way!" Marik protested.
We have no choice—if you won't do it, then I will.
Marik considered the idea as he splashed another handful of cold water onto his face and ran his fingers through his fringe. Malik was definitely staking too much. Marik would doubtlessly be caught if he agreed with every one of his other self's requests. The tomb keeper would be the one punished—even killed.
Malik answered the Egyptian's thoughts. You cannot be killed. There is no way that your Father would rid of his only son capable of becoming a tomb guardian.
Marik tried to hide his thoughts as he thought back on the previous torturing and killing of several servants in the past year. Perhaps even more.
You are not a servant, Malik interrupted, clearly invading the tomb keeper's thoughts. You are a tomb keeper.
Marik shuddered at the way Malik said the title without as much as a hint of his usual scorn. "Father has become thirsty for bloodshed. Sooner or later I'll be next," Marik countered.
Malik gave a short noise through his teeth, something like a laugh. Marik chose not to inquire his other self's source of amusement. Instead, turning on his heel, the tomb keeper made his way past the phantasmal presence of Malik and down the passageway to one of the many rooms he dared not enter for his entire life.
His Father's room.
Inside the chamber there were littered remnants of the traditional cloaks and underclothing of an Egyptian man, candles melted down to a pool of wax, scriptures as old as the tomb itself and a sufficient amount of furniture. The room smelled of age and wear and held an arid atmosphere. Despite the warm dwelling, a familiar shiver shot up Marik's spine. His limbs became tense at the idea of intruding his Father's chamber for money, though he knew it was too late to turn back then. It had been too late long ago. Taking a deep breath, Marik stealthily crept across the ground and began his search.
Time passed as he became anxious and it dawned on him that perhaps attaining coins from the clan was a hopeless idea after all. At the thought, Malik hastily jumped in and encouraged Marik to continue his ransack. As much as Marik tried, there was no way that the chamber would be the same as it had been by the time he left. Would his Father notice the increase of untidiness? Marik's pondering paled in comparison to an even more critical question—would his Father notice the money missing?
Then, just as he reached for a box inscribed with intricate carvings, Marik heard a noise behind him and froze. His fingers were nearly skimming the edge of the small chest—about the size of one of his bounded scriptures—that he sensed contained the coins he needed. As his breath ceased and his heart thrummed rapidly in his chest, Marik waited for the screaming and abuse to begin. His Father would not let Marik escape unharmed.
"Master Marik?"
Marik relaxed slightly at the sound of Odion's curious voice, though remained frozen in place. "Yes, elder brother?"There was no response except for the quiet shuffling Odion's feet made as he treaded across the ground. Marik could hear the cautiousness and fear residing in Odion's footsteps. If Marik was not allowed to enter his own Father's chamber, Odion was strictly forbidden. Yet, not only had Marik intruded on the territory, but he was committing theft. How can I explain that I have no other choice? Marik wondered frantically.
Odion met Marik at his shoulder, peering down at the box nearly within the boy's reach. His gaze was not unfriendly; however, it held a strange warning in its depths. As Odion's eyes flickered to meet Marik's own, the tomb keeper felt a jolt trigger through him. Be silent, Marik insisted to his other self. He could feel the unease from Malik, though Odion appeared innocent, if somewhat inquisitive.
"Master Marik?" Odion repeated, though his voice held more concern than the last he spoke.
Before Marik could respond and explain his purpose, there was a sudden noise as someone neared the chamber. For a small moment, while his heart seemed to skip a beat and his head was overcome with a wave of vertigo, Marik believed that it was Ishizu, or perhaps a clan member or servant. However, as the familiar gait rang a shrill warning in the tomb keeper's ears, Marik knew that it could only be his Father.
Malik instantly commanded, Quickly! Grab the coins and flee.
Marik cast a glance at Odion, petrified as the footfalls drew nearer.
Forget him, he is only a servant! Malik insisted.
Marik froze at Malik's words. Only a servant. The words echoed in the tomb keeper's mind. Is that not what I am, too? Marik silently said. Averting his fingertips from the small chest, Marik reached out for Odion and grabbed his hand, though it was larger than his own, and gave an urgent tug.
"Odion is my brother," Marik whispered. As Odion broke from his rigid stance, allowing Marik to lead him forward, an agonizing shock rippled throughout the tomb keeper's body and he felt himself drop to his knees. Panting, Marik reflexively fought against the pressure eroding his mind. The unrelenting vigour sent pain shooting throughout his head as Marik's arms trembled. Beside him, Marik could hear Odion inquiring with distress, though he could not comprehend the words spoken. Marik could not even hear his own thoughts.
I am your blood-sworn brother, Malik growled.
Then, as sudden as a flame diminishing from a candlewick, Marik felt his mind split. A numbing sensation pulsated through his arm as a thousand of manipulating wisps tangled themselves in his flesh.
Malik's presence was lucid as the tomb keeper felt himself involuntarily reach for the box, letting go of his elder brother's hand. His Father's footsteps were in accord with Marik's own heartbeat, a screaming pulse in the tomb keeper's head. Odion's quiet inquiries were drowned out as Marik's blood roared in his ears. This... this is Malik? The tomb keeper silently questioned in his infuriating haze. The feelings were not his own, though. Rage, resentment, agony, suffering—they all enveloped Marik in a frantic frenzy.
Marik's fingertips finally edged the box, his hand shakily grasping it and clutching it back to his chest. The tomb keeper clenched his teeth, feeling as if his mind would shatter. However, it was not over yet.
Run!
Marik strained to understand Malik's words.
Now!
The tomb keeper shook his head, stricken. His hand would not release the box. "Odion," Marik said under his breath. Odion's hand was no longer on Marik's shoulder, though he could feel the older boy standing beside him. Fear tightened Marik's throat as he sensed the fear in the atmosphere, how Odion stood rigid in silence.
"You..."
Marik flinched under his Father's words, not caring whom they were directed to. He had failed to save Odion. I...
"Odion, how dare you... Your blood shall pay the price that of my own boiling blood."
Marik's head snapped up as he absorbed his Father's words. "F-Father, it is not what it seems. This is by my own intention, please, do not punish Odion!" Marik watched as his Father's face grew angrier. "Punish me instead!" Marik pleaded, lowering his head. His Father glowered at Odion before staring down at Marik.
"Get up, child," his Father barked. Marik slowly raised his head. "And do not allow me to witness another intrusion of my chamber. Now leave, and never come here again."
Marik watched as his Father left without another word, wondering why he did not reclaim the box. Had he not seen it?
Beside him, Odion exhaled a long-held breath. "Thank you for saving me, Master Marik."
Marik could not respond. His thoughts were still warped as he regained full consciousness. His Father was known for his horrid temper, especially towards Odion, however, Marik had never expected him to be angered and then release the two boys as suddenly as he had. Was it something Marik said?
But before that Marik had felt such an overwhelming manipulation. There was no other possibility than Malik, who had clearly grown powerful in the recurring year. Still, the tomb keeper could feel the lingering possessive energy of Marik in his mind.
It was very quiet.
Clutching the box tightly to his chest, Marik climbed to a crouch before fleeing past Odion and out of the chamber. It was another room in the tomb that contained horrid memories that Marik did not want to recollect. As Marik made his way down the passageway, he worried about Malik and his secrets. How much is he hiding from me? Marik wondered. The tomb keeper expected a curt reply, but his other self was too far out of his consciousness, his presence shallow. Have I made the wrong choice? What am I doing wrong? Why is everything so quiet? Marik continuously questioned. There were so many questions, yet so little answers.
Marik eventually made it to his own room, the box seeming to burn in the grasp of his hand. He had risked a fair bit to retrieve it. Removing the lid, Marik breathed a sigh of relief as he stared down at the gleaming coins, all silver and gold, with a wad of folded paper. It was real money—both genuine coins and paper. Searching for some sign of Malik, the tomb keeper sensed a slight satisfaction from him."Is it enough?" Marik asked.
A silence passed before a quiet voice replied, Yes, enough money.
Marik sent a hint of confusion.
We still need to attain the Millennium Items.
The tomb keeper frowned. "What use will they serve? They're ancient, anyways, and reserved for the Pharaoh," Marik argued.
Pharaoh? Marik gave a short laugh. Have you forgotten your vow already, other-self? You swore your life to me, not some Pharaoh.
"I know. Now, when are we leaving?"
Tomorrow.
"Fair enough. The rest we can plan after we escape, right?"
A pause. Yes.
Marik set the chest down, hiding it from prying eyes behind his scriptures. "I wonder if Odion will be okay. Ah, I forgot, are you all right?"
...Yes.
Marik did not bother to note Malik's repetitive hesitations, instead giving a tiny nod. Whatever had happened earlier was in the past. Marik knew he needed to look ahead if he planned to survive. Tomorrow he would be tearing from his old skin into a new one, similar to a snake.
Marik knelt and blew out the candle burning on his table before lying down, trying to find rest in the frantic night. He thought he heard somebody breathing in the entrance, though he passed it off as paranoia. Marik tried to synchronize his breathing with the other person's, another person made of his own delusions. Despite his efforts, his mind eventually wandered back to the realization that he was risking everything, more than he believed he had even had. Odion could be killed because of Marik, and it made him anxious to even consider it. He did not want to believe it. Marik shivered, an unfamiliar loneliness pervading his skin like a frost. Malik...   
As Marik closed his eyes and listened to the steady breathing, a single tear slid down his cheek for reasons he did not want to face.