I sometimes lose track of a story's trajectory, lost in various concepts that prompted my interests but may not have served the plot. I think that's where the concept of "kill your darlings" comes from.

That is to say, if I were starting this particular tale from the beginning today, I probably wouldn't have handled it the same way. Because as I continue to put the puzzle pieces together, I've come to realize that basically every plot point I had planned for "Lightbringer" is going to have to go into a very specific spot.

I don't know if this means I wasted my time with the first half?

I … hesitate to say that.

But as I get older, I realize new things. About myself, about my craft, and about my approach to building these stories of mine.

.'

The night itself, woven like cloth, settled about his shoulders as a burial shroud. Dressed as he was in jeans, sneakers, and an Avenged Sevenfold concert t-shirt under a checkered button-down over-shirt, the form of Yugi Mutou should have looked ludicrous sporting an expression of such murderous confidence as he did.

And yet, with that old, gold puzzle about his neck, there were no questions from what few people actively noticed him. He was known in this city. He had a reputation in this city. He was more than just the goth kid with the wild hair; he was an institution, and people knew that look in his eyes; eyes which seemed to fade from violet to blood-red and back again with the phases of the moon.

The spirit king wore that face, and it hid from view the superstitious fear running down the figurative spine of the boy to whom this body actually belonged.

Where are you taking us? Yugi asked, trapped in his own skin in a way that he'd never been before. He thought that this must be what Ryou Bakura had felt for so long. The spirit had no intention of letting his host interfere. Not this night. Not this mission. Does this have to do with Kaiba? What do you think you can do?

"This is not a matter of what I think I can do," Yami whispered, with a chuckle hidden underneath it. "This is a matter of propriety. Up to now, I have left these matters to Kaiba. He is surely capable, and . . . of course, there is the matter of his insistence that I not interfere." He lifted up a hand, and examined it as though it were a foreign artifact. "But now . . . we reach an impasse. Our storied champion hasn't the strength to ride into battle." That hand clenched into a fist. "Such an insult cannot be left alone."

You're . . . angry.

"Yes. Yes, I am angry. There is but a handful of people in this world of yours with the power and the tenacity to strike down Seto Kaiba. I am one of them. You are another. But this? This is a mockery. This is blasphemous. And let it never be said that I am not indiscriminate in my . . . punishments."

Act like you belong, and no one will question your presence. Yugi couldn't remember when he had first heard that old bit of folk wisdom, but he'd never quite been able to harness its power for his own uses. He'd long since filed it away with an infinitude of other pieces of advice that just didn't apply to him. But as he sat, trapped inside his own head with nothing but Yami's tunnel-vision to occupy himself, Yugi thought that this facsimile of his old partner didn't need to bother with acting.

Walking down these back alleys, it became clear to Yugi that this ghost of a forgotten era truly believed that he belonged in these streets drenched in shadow.

And perhaps, when all was said and done, he did.

"They think their usual methods will save them," Yami murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. His eyes went narrow. "They are thinking in terms of the mundane. If they hide their tracks, double-back on themselves, secure their hiding place. Surely they will be able to hold their position until they are . . . extracted."

They're working for Gozaburo Kaiba, Yugi ventured to say. How are they doing this? How does he have the magic that you used to . . . bring them all here?

Yami's smirk was painful. "This magic has a particular flavor," he said. "The blood of gods runs through this agency."

The Millennium Items?

"Mm."

But . . . how?

"That is one question to which I intend to have an answer before long," Yami murmured, almost purred. "For the moment, we have a more pressing engagement. Do you see? We need all the time we can wrest from the enemy. They have the upper hand now. And so we must act before they get the chance. They expect us to be reeling. And, to be sure, most of us are. How fortuitous for us, then, that I am not beholden to . . . typical behavior."

I've noticed.

Conversation ended then, as Yami continued to slink and slither in the dark. He seemed to fade from existence, to blink to and from a visible, corporeal form like a mirage given only partial sentience. Yugi thought he saw flashes of other people, hidden on balconies or behind obstacles, but every time he tried to focus his vision — such as it was — he couldn't hold onto anything for long.

Yami was following a path that Yugi couldn't see. Though, the longer they walked in silence, in tandem, the more Yugi thought he could feel something. Tugging. Twisting. Pulling at him. He thought to ask his partner whether or not this was what he was following, then decided against it. He could also feel emotions bubbling up about him.

Anger. Real, heavy, tempestuous anger.

When Yami turned a corner and dipped down to grip the door handle of what looked like a storm cellar behind a health food store, Yugi felt a sudden need to hold his breath. But his body did not obey. Yami was calm. Yami was centered. He was the eye of this storm, and his focus was razor-edged.

A surge of heat shot through Yugi's arm, and he watched as the heavy iron door was ripped off its hinges and flung into the night by an appendage that had never felt less like his own.

They could both hear the scrambling below. It was quiet, deliberate. They were clearly dealing with trained professionals of some kind. But Yugi had always had exceptional hearing, and Yami was using it to full effect tonight. The smirk on his face was like battle armor as he stepped down.

Yugi heard heavy footsteps coming up behind them, but couldn't turn his head to check.

"And so we begin," Yami whispered, chuckling low in his throat.

Rapid, screaming gunfire exploded behind them, sending a shower of ravenous metal into the night air.