Fate. It was a tricky little thing. Already, I had seen how it could bring about a man's fortune, or his downfall. One could never fully know his destiny until it had been fulfilled, and often, one was led to pursue his destiny other than where it lied. For instance, a man could pursue his talents in music, only to realize that his fate was to be an architect. Or a woman could chase after her dreams of traveling the world, only to find herself married with four children before she became twenty-five. Yes, I knew about fate and destiny. I knew how it had destroyed my family. My father knew his fate, but had adamantly refused to accept it, vowing to search the world until he could find a way around it. Many years ago, he thought he had. While in Egypt, he had discovered something, an ancient object with great power. It had become a part of him since then, affecting him in ways neither of us had ever thought possible. It had also opened a door of opportunity for him to reverse the events that had caused him such sorrow. My father is Maximillion Pegasus, owner of Industrial Illusions, creator of Duel Monsters, and the only man who can wield the powers of the Millennium Eye. My name is Naomi Pegasus, his only daughter and sole heir to his fortune. My mother, Cecelia, had died when I was very small, and my father had devoted his entire life to finding a way to bring her back. When he had found the Millennium Eye and discovered the secrets of its power, he became determined to collect the other items, hoping to harness their abilities and find some ancient way of cheating death.

A year or so after my father had taken possession of the Millennium Eye, I was sitting in the dining hall, curled up with a novel and a plate of fresh fruit. Reading was my favorite pastime, and I was rarely seen without the company of a book. My father strode in through the double doors, and I looked up, smiling, as he sat.

"Ah, Naomi, my dear. Just the person I wanted to see. I need to discuss something with you."

I closed the book and set it on the table. "Yes?"

"I'm having a little tournament here in a couple of weeks; the best duelists from around the country will be coming here to compete." He placed his hand over mine. "I was wondering if perhaps you'd be willing to go spend some time at the summer house. Bridgette would go with you, of course. What do you say?"

I was silent for a moment. My father had never sent me away before; he always preferred to have me close by. He said it was because I told funny stories, but I knew it was because I reminded him so much of my mother. Except for my hair, I looked almost identical to her. Although he had never wanted me away from our island before, I knew that he always had a good reason to ask something like this of me. I smiled.

"If it would make you happy, I'll be glad to go."

"Excellent! I'll have the maids pack your things, and you can leave tomorrow morning!"

Tomorrow? The tournament didn't start for a couple of weeks, why was he sending me off tomorrow? Oh well, I thought, it's best not to question it. My father was quite an eccentric man, and his methods were better left unexplained. There was one question I could not leave un-asked, however.

"Father?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why are you sending me away? You've never wanted me gone before."

It was just barely noticeable, but his one human eye darkened slightly. "I'd rather not have you on an island where a hundred teenage boys are running loose."

Ah, that made sense. He had always been very protective of me, keeping a tight watch on me whenever we traveled. It became rather tedious at times, but I knew he only had good intentions at heart. I smiled.

"Then tomorrow morning it is."

He smiled and squeezed my hand. "Thank you for understanding, Naomi."

And with that, he left the room. I sighed, smiled absently, then returned to my book. I had learned long ago to accept my father's many oddities, such as his love for comics and cartoons. Often, if I simply let him carry on with his plans, all my questions were answered and they usually turned out for the best.

After I'd reached a good stopping point in my book, I rose and went to my room to help Bridgette pack my things. As I went, I passed a large, gilded mirror in the hall. For some reason, I stopped and stared at my reflection. I was well aware of the knowledge that I was the spitting image of my mother, from the many portraits my father had painted of her before she died. I was in every aspect her twin, except for my hair. I got my snowy, pin-straight hair from my father. Once, I had suggested that I dye my hair, just to experiment with a different look. Father protested so vehemently about this that I dropped the subject. I could only guess that he didn't want to forget his link to my mother. I was the link between them, the only proof that their love had been real. He needed my presence, my very appearance, to remind him that he was fighting for something important. This was another reason why the fact that he was sending me away made no sense. He'd given me an excuse, but I had a feeling that it wasn't the real reason. I sighed and shook my head. It would be best to just do as he said. I smiled at my reflection, then went on to help the maid pack.

The next morning, I stood at the docks, watching as my things were loaded onto the boat that would take me and Bridgette to the summer house. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see my father looking down at me. He smiled, but it seemed just a little bit sad. He absently brushed away a few strands of hair that had blown into my face.

"Promise you'll write?"

"Every day, Father."

He wrapped his arms around me, and I felt his hand stroke my hair once, affectionately. There seemed to be something in that embrace, as if he didn't expect to see me again. It was strange, and a little bit unsettling, but I shook it off. I was prone to over-analyzation, and tended to make a big deal out of nothing. He released me, and waved me on. "Go ahead. Don't worry, this tournament shouldn't last terribly long. I'll send for you soon."

In an instant, every instinct in my body was telling me not to get on the boat, to stay on this island. There seemed to be a cloud of impending danger surrounding him, and I felt the powerful urge to protect him by staying by his side. I shook my head; of course, this was silly and untrue. There was just going to be a friendly Duel Monsters tournament, nothing that would put my father in danger. After all, what harm could a bunch of teenagers do?