(Melvin warning. In all seriousness, though, there is mild gore and references to abuse and death in this chapter. Consider yourself warned, and, whatever you do, DON'T HUG THE SPIKY HAIRED EGYPTIAN.)

The entire time I ate, Bakura fixed me with a silent, evaluating glare, the pair of us completely ignoring Marik's bustling about and complaining. The meal was simply frozen macaroni and cheese heated in the microwave, but it was good quality, and I scarfed it down quickly. When that was done, I sighed softly. "Well, I gotta start somewhere." I muttered as I took out one of my knives and pricked my finger. The blood that welled from the small break in my skin wasn't purely red; there were dark purple and black specks in it, along with separate currents of gold. "There was another Millennium Item that the Pharaoh's father didn't want his son to have or anyone to know about because he deemed it flawed. It was a circlet, and, like all the others, it had a specific power, which was exactly what displeased him; the circlet allowed the wearer to hear the voices of those burned to create it."

"Wait just a bloody second! You're saying that there's another Item out there that captured fragments of the villager's souls?!" Bakura demanded, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up, his eyes a brighter red.

"The circlet is no more, Thief King. If you would let me finish you'd understand that." I replied, focusing on keeping my voice level and emotionless as I spoke. "I have to tell you about my past, as well, then I'll explain what happened to the circlet and to myself. I'm half Egyptian, for starters. My father came from here, and, when my mom died of chronic illness, she was the last in my family to go, so I was sent here to be reunited with my father. Turns out he's crazy, but really smart, and had adopted many children in order to experiment on them. I still don't know what his end goal is because I'm apparently unfinished, but that's beside the point. He experimented with Shadows drawn directly from the Shadow Realm itself, sometimes sending the kids in and leaving them there for different periods of time, and, when he no longer had any use for them, that's where he would dispose of them. By the time I came along his research had progressed quite a lot, and he immediately started in on me. He had managed to capture Shadows in syringes and injected me with them, mixed them in with my food, and gave me sessions wearing the circlet. Apparently, despite everything he had done to me, and the fact that I had all but stopped speaking, I was still sane enough to have one last experiment done to me." I took a deep breath, having noticed that even Marik was listening in by this point. "He melted down the circlet and, after draining an equal volume of my blood, injected the molten gold into my veins. Apparently the Shadows he had been injecting me with for years were what allowed my body to accommodate the gold. So, there you have it. I am what my father calls a Millennium Shadow. The voices of the villagers in my head are what guided my escape five years ago, and, at first, they trained me on how to survive, but they went quiet about 3 years ago. You woke them up when you mentioned the Pharaoh, Bakura. As for what I know about spirits, there's only one thing I know that you might not; if a vengeful spirit gains another reason to persist before achieving their initial goal, there is a possibility that, upon achieving their goal to their satisfaction, instead of fading away, they will be offered an opportunity to gain a body of their own with an appearance of their choice."

For the first time since I met them, the pair were silent for more than a minute. Bakura was the first to speak. "So...you're saying that you can hear the voices of those from my village? No. Communicate with them?" He asked softly.

His heart is aching. We have died and mere fragments remain, yet his soul refuses to even crack. The voices that had grown so familiar to me spoke once more, and I nodded slightly. "Yes. I can communicate with them. Ironically enough, they're what brought me back from the brink of insanity. Gave me a purpose. Kill the Pharaoh, then my father. So, if you'll have me, I'd be willing to stay and help you guys."

Bakura was about to respond, but suddenly looked at Marik who was clutching his head and groaning. "Oh, bollocks. It's Melvin." He muttered, backing away.

"Melvin?" I repeated curiously, watching in awe as a golden burst of power caused Marik's hair to stand on end and a glowing golden eye symbol appeared on his forehead.

Grinning, Marik.... Melvin? Held out his arms and, with an insane, overlapping voice, sang out a single word. "Hug~!"

I stared at him for a moment, then started laughing, nearly falling out of my chair. This didn't seem to please Melvin, who glared at me. "You...asked for a hug.... Okay, okay, please, I need to know. How many people has that actually worked on?"

"Less than ten. I don't friggin' keep count!" The spiky haired man replied irritably, almost starting to pout. "Anyway, I was able to show myself because you mentioned you wanted to kill your father. I killed Marik's, and enjoyed it tremendously. You seem to be a kindred spirit." We both laughed at that.

"Melvin, would you bugger off? The meeting's going to start soon." Bakura snapped.

"Hello, Florence. I'll let my weakling of a host take control again AFTER I'm done talking. So, unless you want a hug, I suggest you keep quiet." Melvin replied, not even sparing the albino a glance.

"No, I don't want a bloody hug...." Bakura muttered irritably.

"Now, Helayna, was it? I want to make a deal with you. You'll let me be there when you kill your father."

"And what will you give me in return?" I asked, crossing my arms.

A crazy, overlapping laugh seemed forcefully torn from his lips. "I will never try to kill you." He replied.

"Fine, but you have to swear a blood oath. And the blade will be the Millennium Rod." I replied, pointing at the golden Item.

"Sounds fun~" Melvin replied, taking the end off the rod to reveal the blade. He slashed the palm of his right hand, then advanced on me and I held out my hand. The cut he made nearly severed my tendons, and I made a soft sound, though I didn't wince. "I swear I won't ever even try to kill you."

"And I swear I will allow you to bear witness to my father's death." I replied, as we clasped hands. As our intermingled blood, scarlet with threads of purple and gold, dropped to the ground, a flash of white light came from our clasped hands. Letting go, I licked the blood from my hand, and Melvin did the same with the blade before sheathing it once more and reverting back to Marik.

"Ow ow ow ow owie!" He whined, cradling his hand. "Hey, what happened?"

"Melvin and I made a blood oath and—"

"Helayna, look at your left arm!" Bakura interrupted.

Opting not to yell at him for interrupting me, I look at my arm. Nothing on the inside of my forearm, but, when I rotate it, there it is, a detailed depiction of the Millennium Rod in shimmering black, like a tattoo. "What in Ra's name...?" I stare at it for a while, then an idea occurs to me. "Bakura! Stab me with one of the points on the Millennium Ring!" I demanded.

"Wha—"

"Just do it!"

A strange light appeared in the albino's eyes and they got just a bit redder. "Are you a masochist or something?" He asked, grinning as he walked towards me. Grabbing the center point, he jammed it into my upper right arm, making me squeeze my eyes shut and tremble, trying not to cry out.

"What the frig is happening?!" Marik demanded.

I look down at my chest where the Ring would rest, were I to wear it, and, sure enough, its image was there in metallic black. "I was testing something. It appears that, when a Millennium Item comes into contact with my blood, its image appears on my skin in the location in which it is intended to be worn." Then I smirked and looked at Bakura. "As to your question, yes. It appears I am quite the masochist."

Bakura turned pink and opened his mouth to speak, only for Marik to pipe up. "What's a masochist?"

I chuckled. "A masochist is someone who enjoys having pain inflicted upon them, and a sadist is someone who enjoys inflicting pain upon someone else. I'm a little bit of both." I looked at the blood dripping down my arm. "I'm going to need bandages, though. As are you, Marik."

"I'll go get them." Bakura said. "It's not like you two can bandage yourselves, anyway."