Her eyelids trembled as she forced them open.
Light.
Not from a source — but everywhere. Boundless and infinite.
Wherever she was, it was blinding to her fresh eyes.
She floated in it, weightless, her hair drifting around her like waterweed in a slow current.
"Okay," she whispered, breath unsteady, "time to find myself."
The words sounded small here.
As her eyes adjusted, the light moved.
Everywhere she looked, it shifted and stirred. And the longer she watched, the more she realised this wasn't memories unveiling — it was her remembering.
As though the world already knew what it meant to show her.
Then—
A shape. Curled tight and crumpled in the white.
As she approached, the figure became clearer.
A young woman. Sobbing so quietly it barely existed.
Zahra's heart shattered at the sight.
Every inch of the girl was marred — scrapes, gouges, old scars layered over newer ones. Bruises blooming like storm clouds beneath her skin. One arm bent wrong. Legs trembling even in stillness.
She looked like something dragged from a battlefield and left behind.
"Hey— hey, it's okay," Zahra breathed, kneeling beside her. "You're safe. I've got you."
The girl lifted her face, and Zahra stared into her eyes.
Eyes that were her own.
She recoiled.
Scanning her body, tears prickled at her eyes. This poor girl looked like she had suffered for years. All these cuts, slashes, bruises — some she remembered well.
The gashes across her eyes that blinded her in the desert. The bruising from sparring with the Northern Warlords until she earned her fighting suit. Knuckles slashed beyond repair. Torn feet from nights she pushed herself until she couldn't stand.
The wound from the arrowhead. Dark, snake-like veins spreading from it.
And then she found the ones no one saw.
The quiet damage.
The self-inflicted punishments. The grief. The loneliness.
As the seconds passed, she noticed more and more — patches of red-white skin on her scalp where clumps of her hair should be, fingernail marks on her temples and cheeks.
Her own skin had healed. Yet it was all carved into this body.
Everything she had survived. Everything she had buried.
All this time, they had suffered together.
But she was left here.
Alone.
Her throat burned.
"This is what I did to you…" she whispered. "This is what I left. What I tried to leave behind."
"It's not too late to save her."
The voice rolled through the white like distant thunder.
Zahra slowly rose to her feet and turned.
Her eyes travelled up — and up.
Then she found them.
Burning amber eyes, framed by velvety soft fur, looked back at her. A luxurious mane fanned around his face, giving him a regal grace. Not merely a beast — but something older than beasts. Like a statue given breath. Like a god carved from sun-warmed stone.
And he looked at her gently.
Her head dropped over her shoulder, staring at the crippled woman. She wanted to save her — wanted it more than anything.
More than that —
She wanted to save herself.
Be everything she could be. And more.
"How?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How can I save her?"
The tears rolled freely now.
"How can I save me?"
"Claim her," he answered gently. "Acknowledge that she is a part of you, and you a part of her."
Understanding slid into place.
Acceptance.
That was how they could be saved.
She sank to her knees and gathered the broken girl into her arms as carefully as if she were made of glass.
"It's okay," she murmured into tangled hair. "I'm here now. I'm not leaving you anymore."
Delicately, she manoeuvred herself, taking care not to hurt her broken bones, until her arms wound around her trembling body. The sobbing slowed as she stroked what was left of her hair.
"I'm sorry it's taken me this long to find you. I'm so sorry for everything I've done. You deserved better."
The girl hesitated.
Then a thin, shaky arm clutched her back.
"We deserved better," Zahra whispered.
"Yes," the girl breathed.
We.
Not I. Not you.
She closed her eyes, resolved to hold her for as long as it took.
Something inside her clicked.
And the white fractured like sunlight through water.
Every moment in this shadow game took its toll on him.
Card after card.
Turn after turn.
Monster after monster.
It was all he could do to keep his head in the game. To focus on the here and now.
That was the only way he could save her.
A dull ache throbbed in his mind.
Yes… her.
He battled through the growing fog in his memory.
I need to get through this so I can see her again.
"I've finally caught you," he said through ragged breaths.
Old memories slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. Memories he cherished became unrecognisable.
The last thing he remembered was a dark mist closing in.
No, that wasn't right.
The last thing he remembered was standing in front of a large stone tablet, reaching out a hand to touch it.
Everything was muddled.
Still, he played on.
Friends. I have to help my friends. Yugi, Joey, Teá, Tristan and… and…
"My, my. You look as though you've seen better times, Pharaoh."
Their gazes collided across the long table.
The smirk on Bakura's face spoke volumes. He knew exactly what this was doing to him.
His head dropped into his hands, fingertips clutching at his temples, desperately clinging to his memories.
"No… no," he repeated in defiance.
"You managed to defeat Zorc in the past. It's a shame you won't remember how you did it."
Suddenly, the feeling beneath his feet changed from the cushion of soles to the sinking sensation of soft sand.
Lifting his eyes, he was met with a scene he vaguely recognised.
A time he felt was long forgotten.
H-Home?