Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh! > A Waking Dream of Life and Light

A Waking Dream of Life and Light

by exdee 0 Reviews

It wasn't hate that birthed the other Malik; it was happiness. (Spoilers for chapter 232 of the manga.)

Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Marik Ishtar - Warnings: [!!] [V] - Published: 2006/03/08 - Updated: 2006/03/08 - 785 words - Complete

Disclaimer: This fanfiction makes no money and is not intended to infringe on the copyright of those who own and/or created Yu-Gi-Oh!

Note: manga-based, because the manga doesn't have that neat face-stretchy growl/grin from the Maliks after the Ritual, meaning that Dark Malik makes his first appearance when Rashid becomes a whipping boy. Also, the formatting is not wonky ... well, it is, but that's intentional.

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In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

From "A Dream", by Edgar Allen Poe.

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Imagine if you were to wake up ...


... You remember only light and a two-wheeled machine that could take you far away from anywhere and something blue and wide above you, and then a flash of breathless pain when you give that up...


... And imagine you wake up to find that that sliver of pain has cut you to pieces.


The marks on your back are itching as if they're being re-carved by worms. It's an itch that bothers you in many nightmares, where you sense the knife closing in on your skin and sweat in horrified anticipation.

This time the knife isn't a nightmare: It's the future, as promised to you by Father. He's always told you that you will stay in darkness all your life, and that's what made it hurt to forsake the world above - but add to this the promise of another memory to carry where you can't scratch it out, and it's enough to drive the pain into you like a spike that splits stone.

You wouldn't do anything, even as you cracked. For the love of Father, who gives you only stones to bury yourself with, you would offer everything that means freedom. You would die underground, day by day, if it would convince Father to allow the man who is your shadow to live.


Won't you imagine what would happen if I woke up?


I would stretch the itch out of my back and then bind the pain curling into my back with the brightest light I can touch, even if it's only the glittering of torchlight over gold.


Imagine.


Father swings the hot knife downwards: /sizzle-thud/, it lands. The shadow screams; screams, falters, and falls... He is dead.

Your eyes are wide and tearless, because the truth is too huge to weep for. Rashid is dead. At this moment you know something: You won't listen to Father again. You can't. Because of what he's done and what he's threatened to do, it will be impossible to stay here - and in a sharp shock, even as you try to call to Rashid and make him stand, you are happy.


Memories of light and sky crowd in as the shadow vanishes. Those things are immediate and within reach, easy to be take, with the Tomb Keeper's heritage discarded. But then the memories rush past like the air from a door slammed shut, a breeze that spindles into nothing ... and I am left alone.


It's your fault. You're gone, and you've left me to take your pain; you've made my memories yours, giving me memories only of tombs as you took away the sun that gave me strength to live. But I know what to do.

I test your body and stretch myself into the furthest points. To live and be whole is so refreshing that I could almost forget Father if he would run, but he stays still in shock. He babbles as I walk to the altar, but a truer voice speaks to me. I follow its call, and with a touch to the gold, I receive the light that lives inside.


It is mine - it's me - it's better than you. Now I am the spark that comes off a fire-lit knife. My brightness makes the faces of my sister and father dark. It can't be helped; as I am the light, I can't help but cut things around me into shapeless pools of shadows. It would make me sad, but why be sad when you know how to rid yourself of darkness?


To begin with, Father must break his promises - and as he never would, I'll have to break them for him.


It's the most pleasant work life has ever offered me, and it results in something beautiful: Red so strong that I don't think my eyes should be able to see it. This red is bright and makes me free, as if it's a little sun.


This is a gate to the world far better than the one my sister showed me, and I made this gate.


Perhaps ... perhaps I can make the world, too.


You couldn't even imagine.
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