Ever since he was a child, there would be these dreams. Where most children dreamed of being a King or Knight, a Hero that rescued people and defeated monsters. These dreams were nothing like those. Vast lands of the desert, tall pyramids being built, tunics and shendyts with layers of gold. Dreams that are always the same with just small changes, in people and scenery. Never any direct things that he can remember. Conversations that would be held just vanished when things ended and he woke up. It seemed so fleeting and yet those small dreams carried on to reality and effected his daily life.
Enough so that his guardian, his own flesh and blood, seemed driven mad by having to take care of such an untamed and uncontrolled Grandson. A part of him truly didn't blame her but the side of him that was deeply effected by the emotional and mental trauma that she inflicted in him did. And that very same part of him held a hatred that would never quite be fixed no matter how many years passed.
Reflecting on his thoughts in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, the quiet contemplation was interrupted by the repeated buzzing of his cellphone against the counter top. A steady blink of his gaze brought him from his thoughts and quickly the phone was snatched up from the counter. The screen was unlocked and text messages pulled up, as lilac eyes scanned the message his hands pulled his tri-colored hair back into a short ponytail on his head, tanned hands falling back to his side before grabbing the phone.
Marik.
Heba, call me when you get a chance. It's important.
Short and to the point, he never was one who liked to bother much with texting. A part of him wondered if such things stemmed from the time he spent underground and away from so much advancements in the world with his sister. They'd been friends for a while but that bond had only seemed to truly start to grow when Marik returned to Egypt after being overseas for a while. He only really got snippets of what happened in Japan, in most of his friends' life now that he really thought about it. Marik wasn't heavily into talking about himself, it seemed.
Heba chewed on his lip for a moment before locking his phone and setting it down in exchange for his toothbrush. Half an hour later he exited the bathroom, fully dressed for the day and balancing his phone against his shoulder. He wandered into the kitchen and threw the teapot onto the counter to fill with water. A few minutes of ringing and the other end of the phone was finally answered, Marik's rough voice crossing over the line as he greeted him.
"Hope I didn't wake you." In response Heba turned slowly and glanced at the clock on the microwave. A little after five in the morning, he assumed normal people wouldn't be awake at this hour but since he was a kid Heba had always been an early riser. A survival instinct he supposed, the sooner he was awake the sooner he had a chance at leaving the house before he Grandmother got up.
"Nope." He turned back to the pot and removed it from the water, turning the faucet off and moving to the stove. Setting it down he let the water start heating up and leaned against the counter to continue his conversation with Marik. "What's up? I honestly didn't think you got up before Ishizu pulled you from the sheets." That wasn't true, Marik was never quite one to lay around, but he couldn't help a little teasing.
"Have you seen the news? I know you don't keep up much with the Duel Monsters community, but I think this one might interest you. Seto Kaiba's most recent Tournament."
"Doesn't that man hold a Tournament--like--every week?" It felt that way, every time he turned around there seemed to be some new Tournament going on that he had absolutely no interest in. Don't get him wrong, Duel Monsters was big when he was a kid, Heba played a bit himself, but that was just it. A kid. He hadn't looked at his desk in perhaps a decade or more. He only ever carried one card around with him, one he used as a bookmark, and that was the first card he ever acquired with his own money that meant the world to him. It's practically the first stone in your life, when you can buy something with your own money, that you earned on your own.
Heba had done a few mundane tasks for some people around Cairo to earn a few bucks and he saved that money up to buy a Duel Monster card from a street vendor in town; Black Luster Soldier. At the time he didn't even have the ritual card to summon it, but he didn't care. That card was his, he had bought it on his own, and he loved it.
And then he grew up.
Still, ever curious over Marik's insistence, Heba pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker, keeping his friend so he could hear him while doing a search. "You know I did hear about him and his little expedition in Egypt a few, hm, weeks ago? Everyone in the Archeology community knew about it. Got no idea what the hell he was searching for..." his voice broke off as he pulled the report up, scrolling through it and reading the article. "A tech show gone wrong? Bet the fine for that and the amount of people no doubt suing him is interesting. Or does he have everyone sign a waiver before walking in?"
Marik didn't laugh, which meant he was missing something. "Don't get it, you're going to have to spill whatever you're hinting at here if you want me to make any sort of connection, Marik."
There's a pause from the other end of the line and Heba waits, still scrolling through the article and trying to pick out what he could. A lot of people seemed to note that Kaiba was showing obsessive compulsive disorder and perhaps even hysteria regarding Yugi Mutou and some golden object. However, no one could quite explain what it was. Mutou kept apparently telling him that; "the Pharaoh was gone" yet no one again could elaborate.
"When's the last time you spoke to Yugi?"
Now that was a heavy and touchy question. Lips thinned together and Heba turned his head to the side, a huff of air falling from him as he mulled the topic over. Logically, he could hang up, but he knew that Marik was asking for a reason and that part of him that wanted to know--well it wouldn't settle until it got an answer. Yugi, his younger brother, a thin connection that was formed solely from an exchange of letters years ago. They talked a bit, on and off, but never solidified that connection and never actually met. They shared the same mother and different fathers, and if his Grandmother was to be believed his father got custody of him when he was born. His mother didn't fight for him. When his father died the Egyptian government gave guardianship of him over to his Grandmother and never notified his biological mother or her father Solomon Mutou who, if he got the timeline from Yugi right, had custody of his brother for unknown reasons. Yugi never talked much about his mother and Heba never asked.
They exchanged letters for a while, then emails when Yugi got better at the computer. He knew of his brother's struggles in school, in making friends, then in middle school he suddenly formed a very close and very tight group. It was when he entered High School that the letters seemed to stop. At the time Heba was focused on graduating himself and getting into a decent college to get away from his own Grandmother. He succeeded, got into a wonderful place and then started interning as an Archaeologist. He hadn't thought about Yugi in a while.
"Two, three years ago, maybe?" He finally answered, tilting his head upward and looking at the ceiling. The Teapot started to whistle and he blindly reached over, turning the stove off and letting the sound quiet. He didn't move quite yet, waiting for Marik to reply and then after a few moments he finally did.
The sigh that came caused him a bit of confusion and Heba tilted his head forward to look at the screen of his phone. "Kaiba is hosting another Tournament, a graduation one for everyone and to make up for what happened at the last one. I think you should come, it would be a nice surprise for Yugi and I'm sure he would be happy to finally meet you. And," he pauses here and Heba shifts on his feet trying to follow the line of conversation, "something happened at the last one. Like you read in the article. It's something Yugi should tell you."
"Well, this conversation has been confusing. I appreciate the good morning read." Heba sighed and moved away from the counter, fetching a cup from the cupboard for his tea. "I'll consider it alright?" Would Yugi actually want him there? Sure, Heba had been curious over him, who wouldn't be? Finding out you have a brother is more than just a small bit of information it's Earth shattering. Considering the family he had, a dead father and an emotionally abusive Grandmother, having someone else out there who might be good people--anyone would be curious.
He had done a bit of research into Yugi over the years, kept an eye on the internet once he started to become more popular after being Maxamillion Pegasus and becoming the King of Duel Monsters. But you could only get so much from the internet. His research told him Yugi was a good person, kind hearted and that he was raised by a man very similar to that. There was a lot more information to dig up on Solomon Mutou, especially in Egypt. He was a popular and well renowned Archeologist. A man to respect. Everyone who had met him only had good things to say.
It gave him hope.
But Heba was to old to start digging around for connections, he was creating a life for himself and escaping another. Yugi lived in another country, not just down the street, and when the messages stopped he just assumed that was it. He didn't push for more, especially if the other didn't want it. So the most he could do right now, was just consider it. "I have to get ready for the dig today Marik, talk to you later."
"Alright! That's it! Hold it right there!" Sweat clung to his brow, body aching from the exertion and the deep humidity of Egypt keeping him constantly dehydrated. The yells from above him no longer caused him to startle, long used to everyone communicating across the field through simple yells or radio talks. At some level during the dig the radio's didn't work anymore, to many walls of stone between everyone.
Heba unclipped his canteen from his waist and took a drink of it, the cool liquid from the insulated water bottle washing down his throat. He clipped it back to his waist and turned his attention to the walls in front of him, lit up by his flashlight as he swept it across the hieroglyphics. He turned his body slowly scanning through them as they went. Parts of them were chipped away from time, rocks worn at the edges or just destroyed in general. It broke it up enough that it didn't quite make much sense to him.
"Heba! Did you find anything?" He turned his body at the call of his name, head snapping up to the hole in the ceiling. A simple rope ladder hung down through it to get him back up. An older man blocked the top, his stubby aged body and balding head hidden mostly by the shadows. He was an odd man but Heba had grown used to that over the time he'd spent with him, he owned a museum in town.
"Hieroglyphics." He replied shortly and turned back to the wall, squinting at the pictures and what of the writing he could make out.
"Can you read it? Hang on we'll get some more people down there soon, the walls aren't stable enough to risk it currently. Don't wander to far."
Well, not to far meant he could wander some. Heba took a few steps forward and shown his flashlight down the walls as he walked. The hieroglyphics from what he could tell told the story of a Pharaoh who sought power that seemed to be held by a previous Pharaoh before them. What power that was seemed to be cut off from the broken stones. As he walked the damaged story continued, telling parts of the Pharaoh's broken search and misguided attempts to recreate that power.
The bodies being tossed into what appeared to be a fiery pit told him what the broken hieroglyphics couldn't, what his damaged caused to Egypt. He reached the edge of the story and found the end of it missing. Considering the Pharaoh's of Egypt were called and seen as Gods among men he doubted anyone did anything.
What type of power could he have been searching for though? Power like that, it came with a cost and this Pharaoh was definitely willing to pay the price. It actually reminded him of a few of his dreams but he didn't dare think to hard on that. He barely remembered them as it was, nothing but broken pieces much like this story. He turned his flashlight to the rest of the room and continued his search, stepping over the fallen pieces of stone that completed the story. They could try to repair it but that usually took more effort and time than it ended up being worth it.
Between the Jackals of the desert and tomb robbers, not to mention tourists and trespassers most of the story would be gone. Heba stopped when his flashlight reflected against something, following the shine of it with his eyes. His steps carried him to the soft golden light and he knelt down in front of a crack in the wall. He turned his flashlight off and flipped the one on his vest on instead, using that to free up both his hands. He picked up the little gold rock, turning it over in his hands a few times before sliding it into his pocket.
Calloused fingers felt along the wall and the crack, pulling at it and testing the limits. He remembered his Teachers reminders of the place not being that sturdy and was careful in his tests. It gave easier than he thought it would, cracking along the edges and breaking apart. No wonder the story fell apart so easily, the stones here had to be quite old, if not as old as the Pyramids of Giza themselves. He sat the stone aside and reached inside the hole, gripping at the edges of what felt like a box. Not a normal box though. Even in the dark he could make out the ornate edges of it and the shine of the Eye of Horus displayed on the front.
He pulled and pulled until he dragged it from its place of rest, gold and little trinkets falling out with it. Before getting any further he turned his head to the side and called back up to the others. "I found something!" Turning back to the box he dusted off the front of it and scanned the hieroglyphics slowly. "For those who seek the power of the Gods, beware the price that must be paid. For not all fortune comes with glory." He gave a small hum and lifted the lid of the box.
Heba sat it to the side carefully and reached inside, gripping the edges of the book tucked away inside and pulling it out. He scooted back enough to sit the book down in his lap and flipped it open.
Blank. The pages were blank.
Honestly, he felt a bit fooled, but mainly confused. The book indeed appeared quite old and the pages were worn with time enough to be very dark. But, as he flipped through it, nothing still appeared. It was quite the oddity. He flipped it shut and stared at the center of the tome where the Eye of Anubis stared back at him. The Eye of Anubis and the Eye of Horus although quite similar in design carried a large difference. The Eye of Anubis was an incomplete version of the Eye of Horus.
The longer he held the book the more he started to get a sick feeling in his stomach, something he couldn't quite explain. Despite the heat and the clear sweat on his body he felt goosebumps spreading across his arms and down his spine. Heba stood quickly and deposited the book into the rucksack on his shoulder so that he could just stop touching it. A light shined on his body and Heba turned to the side, looking at his Teacher and the people he'd brought down with him. The man made his way over and clapped his hand on Heba's shoulder, a proud smile on his face. "Good job boy, go get something to drink we'll drag all this up."
"Thank you." Despite his usual insistence on helping Heba took the chance to get out, growing increasingly uncomfortable in the small space.
It took them over an hour to drag everything out and while the others worked on that Heba got himself a drink and something to eat. He sat under the makeshift tent, an apple in his hand and the book laid out in front of him. He'd used the restoration tools to clean up the front of it and a few of the pages. Despite how much he tried to understand it though nothing seemed to be making much sense. Why a book? What was its purpose? Why was it blank?
He flipped the cover open again and his entire body stilled. There, printed right on the very first page, where he knew there was nothing before was plain and clear hieroglyphics. Like they had been there the entire time, like he had just missed them and he knew he didn't. Something about them though, they weren't normal hieroglyphics. A few of them were and they were mixed with a couple he had never even seen before, some even seemed like twisted versions of ones he knew. Yet despite that he still found himself able to read them.
He ran his fingers over them, tracing the hieroglyphics as he spoke. "Whomever deciphers the book's ancient texts would be able to control a power known only by the Egyptian Gods themselves."
He slammed the book shut, heart pounding against his chest. Another cold chill ran down his back and Heba gathered the book up, shoving it inside the rucksack out of his eyes. He needed to go home, clearly today just wasn't his day. That bizarre phone call with Marik and now this, he needed something stronger than tea to finish the day. Thankfully, the dig was just about done. Once everything was gathered up out of the crypt they could go home for the day.
Apple finished he stood from the ground and dragged his bag back onto his shoulder, seeking out his teacher to see where they were at.
"Most of what we dragged out was gold and some jewelry, plus that box you found. You said there was just a book in it?" Heba nodded and the older gentleman frowned. "An empty book. I wonder if it got switched out with the real thing. Well, if you figure out anything else about it bring it by the museum we'll take a look at it." Until then an empty book wasn't much use to them. The jewelry told more of story than some blank book. "We'll take this back, clean it up and then date it. That should help us pindown what time period and Pharaoh was in charge at the time. Those hieroglyphics on the wall told quite the story."
Heba folded his arms across his chest and inclined his head in the direction of the crypt. "Most of it was broken up but from what I could read I agree. A search for power that seemed partly successful."
"What power he found is the question that must be answered, hm?"
"Sometimes I wonder if not all questions need an answer." A hand clapped on his shoulder and his Teacher laughed.
"My boy you won't become an Archeologist with thoughts like that."