A/N: And a final thank you to all of you! It has been a fun ride, no?

Chapter XIII: Big Bad Wolf

"You really don't understand, do you?"

Yuugi was paralyzed; he couldn't move.

There was something holding him in place, not letting him retreat (he wanted to curl up – just lock his arms around his knees and close his eyes and disappear.) It felt heavy: as if there were a dozen pairs of arms wound around him, all pressing down on him as one – like living shackles. Their grip felt hard enough to be bruising (although Yuugi didn't know if they were actually even capable of leaving real corporeal bruises in their wake, whatever they were) and tight enough to assure him that they could indeed dislocate each and every single bone and joint in his body if necessary.

All they required was an order; even a simple snap of a finger would be enough.

The little leeway he had been left with was next to useless: no matter how far back Yuugi could tilt his head, it wouldn't help him escape. Nevertheless, he arched back anyway, over and over again; it was all he could do, after all. And although his struggles seemed to be in vain, every time the boy pulled away, even for just the few inches he could (only to be inevitably yanked back by the invisible hands) he found himself thinking that perhaps this time, he could make it – only to fall short, and try again.

The sense of false hope was agonizing.

Along with moving his head and neck, Yuugi could also wriggle his fingers, as even though his arms were tightly locked and pressed against his sides, he could move his digits – if only a little. However, it didn't bring him much relief; the boy could only grip the seat he was on, and dig his nails into the wood.

In the end, it just made it hurt more.

"Shadows…I did tell you about them on one occasion, remember?"

Yuugi heard the voice again, but it was getting more and more difficult for him to listen to it; he couldn't comprehend what it was saying. Each sound felt muted to the boy, like his ears had been stuffed with cotton. He couldn't concentrate: as the voice continued to drone on, it was becoming more and more slurred and garbled – the words just kept slipping away –

"They are rather peculiar creatures, and quite rare to come by; and an infestation like that…well, I'd say that's a once-in-a-lifetime find. Then again, you've always had your way with the odds…"

It was getting harder to breathe, too. The air was hot – close to scorching his already abused larynx. The boy had to draw in oxygen in short gasps, and the stench that clung to his every new breath was repulsive enough to clog up his nostrils. His throat was dry: it felt itchy and hot, more inflamed that it had ever been before (the prickly sensation made Yuugi want to claw the insides of his trachea to the point of bleeding.) Each gulp of air that he took seemed to result in him either coughing or gagging; and sometimes the boy did both, which almost caused him to choke on his own saliva.

"They're very powerful beings – if handled correctly, of course."

His eyes watered and itched; he was desperate to rub them, to do something to soothe the sting (although that was the least of Yuugi's worries) but his hands refused to budge from their dug grooves. They were anchored, nails drawn and buried in the splintered wood. The sharp little pieces of oak poked his fingers, scraping and breaking the skin (when the boy felt something wet running down and coating his palms, he didn't know whether it was sweat or blood.)

"I'd like to acquire a few of them for myself; do some research, run a few tests…"

Black had begun to creep along the sides of his vision, and the tears in his eyes were already blurring his view – it was almost impossible for Yuugi to see anything at all anymore. His ears were ringing, and although the sound was more blaring than a murder of crows screaming in the morn, it was slowly lulling him to sleep. He had started to feel light-headed; the blood in his veins was rushing upwards, causing chills to run across his body –

He couldn't think straight anymore…he just…

…make it stop…

Yuugi was teetering on the edge of oblivion: he was about to tilt over, head-first and backwards into the unknown, yet inviting darkness. All he had to do was to give in; to let nature take its course. It would be so easy –

"I wonder when your Prince Charming will arrive."

The darkness receded, if only a little, for what the voice said jolted a part of the boy back into somewhere in-between (in his mind, there was only twilight.) A feeling of nostalgia washed over him, brought on by the words; they were somehow familiar –

…prince?

A face came to his mind. It was fuzzy at first, but the more he thought about it, the easier it became to piece it together, like a puzzle: sharp eyes and familiar hair, dark skin…

Eventually, the face was followed by a name:

…Atem…

Before Yuugi could dig through his memories to recall more, the voice continued:

"He will come shortly, I'd presume. Otherwise, we are going to have a little problem here. I'm a busy man, you see; I cannot wait forever – and neither can you. Oh dear…"

The voice sounded clearer to him now – and what Yuugi heard it insinuate sent fear crashing straight down his spine. Suddenly, the daze in his mind was gone, washed away by the sheer panic: everything came back to him with no warning given.

The sensation was akin to getting one's head smashed with a brick.

No!

The boy was hysterical; gasping, he was being strangled by his very own thoughts.

He knew that tone: he recognized the way those words were always murmured with a small smile and a pleasant front; and yet they had never failed to leave him filled with grim anticipation –

That tone never bode well–!

"A small penalty might be in order – arriving late is so terribly impolite. Wasting someone's time should be considered a crime, really…"

Yuugi wanted to cry.

…no, don't…

His fingers curled, and the chipped nails dug even deeper into the wood (a new cut appeared.)

…don't you dare…

A wheeze left his lips –

…stop…!

– but it went unheard.

Suddenly, the boy was lifted up; sharp, bony fingers pressed against his skin.

Someone had opened the door.

There was a man whom Atem didn't recognize: someone he didn't know. He was tall and lean; most definitely considered handsome by many. Indeed, the man seemed nigh regal-like in appearance – Atem could almost picture him in a crown. He had a good posture, which he carried with pride, and a sharp face that was accompanied by a pair of piercing eyes of the most peculiar of colours.

He was also donning robes with intricate embroidering, which was a dead giveaway: the sign that told the prince that the man was a witch – and a certified one at that. The sleeves of the robes were long and layered, giving them a somewhat oriental look. From amongst them, spindly fingers emerged, holding onto someone –

Yuugi.

The boy was being held up by the back of his neck: the stranger was gripping his collar, keeping him upright by force. In fact, it looked like he was just dangling there, unable to stand on his own; being a mere limp doll in the hands of his puppeteer.

There was almost no colour left on his face (save for the other cheek that looked like it was in the middle of bruising: swollen and dark and painful) and he looked ashen all over. He was sweating, too: clusters of tangled strands of hair stuck to the pale skin as if glued.

Head tilted and slumped against his chest, Atem couldn't get a good look at his eyes; he wouldn't have known the boy was conscious had it not been for the small twitch of his fingers.

Hoisted up like that (held up by a man twice as tall) Yuugi was barely staying on his feet –

– or on what was left of them, anyway.

Encased in molten glass, they were now closer to being stumps of shredded meat than a pair of working feet. A mangled mess, supported by not yet fully-hardened glass, was all the boy was standing on. The vague shape of feet was still there, if only barely – the arches were recognizable, but the toes had given away: now only messy, uneven bunches of small bones remained, sticking out like tiny rake tines.

The glass had burnt away flesh while burrowing into the limbs, peeling off the soft skin; melting it. Left behind were gaping holes, dark and brittle at the edges, looking like they could crumble at a touch. Inside the maws, white bone shone in between the pale pink tendons like baby teeth.

The translucent clumps, entrapping the flesh like homemade amber (a grotesque mock-up of the cement shoes, only see-through for someone's viewing pleasure) glowed faintly red, like a smudged paper lantern; the glass was still hot, having been smelted not too long ago. It was slowly burning the floor Yuugi stood on – patches of black and brown were being branded onto the hardwood, accompanied by lazy wisps of smoke.

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth.

The man spoke.

"Ah – looks like our long-awaited guest has finally arrived…"

He had a voice most pleasant: soft and rich, with a hint of a foreign lilt.

"Please – have a seat," he said, gesturing to a lone chair next to the fireplace. It had a broken leg, standing like a limping man. There were small crevices, not bigger than the tip of a human pinkie, indented into the sides of the wooden seat.

They looked like scratch marks.

"Oh?" the man exclaimed, his head tilting to the side in a mocking imitation of curiosity, "Is there something wrong, Your Highness? Is the seat not to your liking?"

He smiled amiably.

"Or perhaps the cat has got a hold of your tongue? It is rather cumbersome, isn't it?" he ventured to say, turning to have a look at Yuugi: "My apprentice here is currently suffering from the same problem, if you must know…terribly unfortunate indeed –"

"Let go –"

Atem didn't know how he regained the control over his own voice. His mouth was dry, his lips and tongue heavy, but nevertheless, he spoke; but even then, the voice he heard coming from himself sounded strange, foreign.

"– let Yuugi go. Now."

The man continued to smile with but a small twinkle in his eye.

"I could, certainly…" he said, his voice near a chuckle, "…but only with a good incentive. A true witch never gives anything away for free, after all; nor does anything for anyone without a proper payment, don't you know?"

That's not what Yuugi told me. He's always helped us, no matter what –!

There was a somewhat cat-like quality to that tone of voice (Atem was almost expecting to see the man's pupils turn into slits like a feline's.) It was devious, like a swindler's who was being shamelessly cunning and sly in their opponent's face, all the while knowing that their plan was going to be a guaranteed success nonetheless. It was the voice of someone who bargained for a living – and often with stakes that were far too high.

"Interested in the price, are you?"

The man brought out another set of spider-like digits, and pointed a thin finger – like a gourmand selecting his next treat – at Atem's hip; at his pocket, to be more precise.

"There," he said, lazily, "that thing you carry with you – I want it."

The prince held the small bag containing the pieces of the Millennium Pendant (when had he pulled it out? He didn't remember reaching for it –) It sat innocuously on his palm, suddenly seemingly free of its previous heavy weight.

The man grinned, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. His eyes glinted at the sight of the pouch, as if the cat in him had finally spotted a potential prey.

"It was mine to begin with, you see…" he said, his tone tinted blue by just a touch of pretend heartache; feigned sorrow that neither of them believed in. And it didn't last for long: Yuugi's stained tailcoat collar was given a harsh tug, which was followed by the sound of a seam tearing apart.

"– before this simpleton of an apprentice gave it to you."

The man reached out with his hand, but it was all just for show: he wasn't in a hurry, and certainly had no need for begging – both of them knew which party here held the best hand of cards.

"I'd like to have it back now, if you don't mind."

Atem did mind – this proposed trade came with an obvious ulterior motive. And although the prince couldn't tell what exactly it was, he could still see past the paper-thin façade with ease. It was like the man wasn't even trying to hide it in any sort of way; instead opting to leave it there, in almost plain sight, just to tease him (which, considering how pompous the man was acting about his own foolproof plan, could have very well been the case.)

But then again, even if he had hidden motives for regaining the pieces of the Pendant – be it whatever from bad to downright evil – what other choice did Atem have? If he refused, Yuugi would just suffer more, and the man would probably take what he wanted by force, anyway (and even though the prince was trained in light combat and fencing, he doubted he would fare against a full-fledged witch.)

For the first time in his whole life, Atem was looking at his own loss.

He felt ill, and his stomach knotted on the spot, cramping – the mere sight of this man (him and his smug little grin) made him feel outright nauseous. In his mouth, he tasted something vile; but he forced himself to swallow.

So, this is the bitter taste of defeat, huh?

He needed something to drink.

I don't like it – make it go away.

With a violent throw, the pouch was tossed over.

…STOP!

Suddenly, Yuugi had the pouch in his bleeding hands: he was hacking, having ripped himself free –

He turned, and the glass feet followed behind, being dragged across the floor like lead weights, screeching and striking sparks. With a garbled growl (that sounded out of breath, wheezing; like a dog being choked by its own collar) the boy lifted his arm, beaten and bruised, high into the air –

– and threw the bag into the flaring furnace.

It burst into flames seconds later; with a mighty roar, the ravenous fire swallowed the small pouch.

Someone shrieked.

Suddenly, the man was no longer handsome – no, like a wolf shedding its stolen wool, his pretty face twisted. Veins bulged under the complexion that was rapidly gaining colour in a flush of anger, and one of the spidery hands (now looking even sharper, the joints and nails seeming even more pronounced than before, skin pulled taunt over the tendons) rushed forwards: it grabbed onto Yuugi's hair, and twisted.

"You…!"

The man bared his teeth, his upper lip curling as he snarled:

"You idiot!"

The hand gripping the boy shook in ill fury.

"Scorching your throat wasn't good enough a lesson for you, was it?" he growled; a furious scream was barked from between the gleaming ivories – "And looks like burning your feet taught you nothing, either!"

He gave the tuft of hair another yank.

"How stupid can you get!" the man spat as he tore out more and more threads of tangled locks. Fingers coiling, the long nails dug into the abused scalp: "Just how big of an imbecile…!"

Suddenly, he stopped mid-pull, a knot of hair still in his grasp; and the veiny hand moved, about to cradle the back of the boy's skull –

"…fucking brat."

The man slammed Yuugi head-first against the side of the hearth.

The bricks were unyielding, bouncing the boy right back up – only for him to be smashed against the stone again –

tick

– and again –

tock

– and again –

tick

– and again –

CRACK

There was a sound of something breaking; Yuugi didn't twitch anymore.

Atem couldn't move.

In the fireplace, amidst the glowing embers, the melting gold glinted –

– like the eye of a snake.

"Atem...damn ya!"

Jounouchi rode as fast as he could. He kicked with his feet to urge his horse to gallop, and his heels dug into the sides of the steed with desperation; he needed more speed! The scenery was already but a blur to him: only muddled colours danced around him as sweat tugged his hair and stung his eyes.

There were people shouting at him ("Hey, watch out!" Look at where you're going!") but he paid them no mind. The blond could only hear the wind rushing past his ears – it was howling ominously.

Jounouchi gritted his teeth, cursing himself and his stupidity. He should have gone with Atem; he should have pulled himself up there behind the saddle before the prince could have stopped him. To hell with orders – what had he been thinking?!

It hurt a lot – what ya said. But I know ya, Atem…

There was a terrible feeling of grim premonition stirring in the blond's gut, which was only fuelled on by his festering regret. Atem wasn't stupid; on the contrary, he was the best strategist the kingdom had seen in years! He had had to have a reason for explicitly ordering his friend: the prince must have known how he would react –

Those words had been a very deliberate gamble.

It had worked, too; Atem had prevented Jounouchi from following him, if only for a short while. Thus, the prince had succeeded in his move: and of course he had, for what was the difference between a game and real life? Living tokens, that was one, for sure –

(But why save a simple pawn at the price of a king? It made no sense; if the king fell, then what was the point to continue? The game would be lost, no matter if all the other pieces were still on the board or not –)

Jounouchi growled.

He should have tried harder; he shouldn't have let Atem go alone – or at all!

Why?!

His fingers were cramped around the reins, clammy and sweating, and his heart pounded against his chest in both fear and anxiety. What if something had happened – what if something bad had happened and he would just be there too late –

He didn't want that –

"Mom, please hang on! I-I'm gonna go get the doctor!"

– he didn't want to feel that helpless again –!

They were so near the forest border; the tree tops were already in his sight – and please, just a little more –!

The horse under him reared up; Jounouchi cursed, almost falling off the saddle.

"What is it, boy?" he grumbled, looking around to see what had spooked the steed –

He forgot to draw in a breath, nearly choking on air at the sight:

It was Atem – lying at the side of the road.

Jounouchi was on the ground in seconds; with his heart in his throat, he ran up to the prince.

"Atem – Atem!" the blond shouted, grabbing the unconscious figure by the shoulders. He pulled the other onto his lap, hands shaking, grasping onto the muddied ballroom suit like a drowning man onto a lifeline – and for one terrifying moment, he thought that the prince might not wake up at all; that the other was now nothing but a roadkill; that he had indeed been too late –

Please, no…

Atem opened his eyes.

Jounouchi felt like crying. Tears pushed against the rims of his eyes, threatening to spill over, and he coughed, easing in a gulp of air. He could breathe again, now.

"Ya idiot," he mumbled, hugging the other so tightly that had the situation been any other, he would easily have been able to snap a bone, "ya stupid…idiot!"

The blond could have sat there for a short eternity, content in feeling his friend's warm and breathing and living body against his own (the rush of relief was so great that he could hardly feel his own legs anymore: he was trembling from head to toe.) However, Atem shook him off, pushing himself upright without a word.

He stood there, unmoving.

"…ya okay?" Jounouchi asked. He gently placed his hand on the prince's shoulder, still fighting back happy tears –

Atem turned around.

"Yes, Jounouchi…don't worry…"

He was smiling.

"…in fact, I…"

It was a victorious smile.

"…I feel…jUst FiNE…"

ThE EnD