AN: This is a rewrite of Kiss And Dwell, which I started back in 2011. I'm gonna buckle down and finish it this time, even if it takes me a year to update.

Also, Amir is what I'm calling Yami Malik in this fic. Sorry if it gets confusing, I didn't want to use Mariku or Keku. Amir is a name I gave him for an ask blog I used to run, so that's what I decided to call him here.

A huge thanks to my lovely girlfriend Lindsey (AKA xVampirexElegancex - go check her out!) for proofreading this!

Also, please note: I'm sure you already know I'm bad at updates, so I'm writing this story several chapters in advance so I can try to make semi-regular updates. When I update will still depend on how many chapters I can get written between updates lol. I want you guys to have content, but I don't want to overwork myself or put pressure on myself to get chapters out as quickly as possible. I don't want the quality to suffer. I hope you understand!

Once upon a time, when civilization was still young and Gods ruled the land, there lived a kind hearted Pharaoh. He was blessed with the power of The Sight, allowing him to see the spirits of the dead who died alone and weren't remembered, or were lost to their guilt and sins as they were lead to Duat, or whose hearts were too small to weigh. For many years the young king believed himself to be cursed, haunted by the tormented spirits who wailed and prayed to deaf ears for Anubis to lead them to their judgement. He didn't understand…until he spoke with them.

He learned each and every spirit had something keeping them trapped on Earth. Regrets that lingered from their short and empty lives; messages they had for their living loved ones; sins they wanted to make up for. They all had something that kept them from reaching paradise, and the Pharaoh was determined to help all of them complete the tasks that barred them from their afterlife, for he loved all of his subjects. He didn't want any of them to suffer, even if they were dead.

The Pharaoh spent the remainder of his short life helping the spirits fulfill their last wishes, but the line of needy ghosts never ended, and he could not do it for much longer. Before the stress of balancing his duties as a king and as a medium took him, he passed The Sight onto his successor- his beloved cousin, as well as the most powerful priest in his court.

The new Pharaoh, aware of the burden helping the spirits put on his predecessor, knew he could not handle the task alone. So he selected a dozen families, who were pious and loyal to the throne, to help him bear the weight of such a task, and gave them all the power of The Sight as well. Knowing none of them would live long, he made it so each family's descendants would inherit The Sight to preserve the mediumship long after they were gone. It is because of this gift that tomorrow, on your tenth birthday, you inherit our parent's duties, just as they inherited their parent's duties before them.

"The end," Isis concluded with a small smile, closing the home made picture book and looking to her brothers for a reaction. She searched their eyes for some indication they enjoyed her story, but she found only discontent. She pursed her lips and ran her fingers along the bumpy cardboard cover. "What's wrong, you two? Didn't you like it?"

The two boys shared a look, as if debating whether or not they should be honest with their older sister. They were silent, holding each other's gazes, and Isis half wondered if what people said about twins not needing words to communicate with each other was true. Before she could ponder on it longer Malik, the elder of the two, spoke up.

"We don't wanna be mediums," he said resolutely. Amir, the younger, nodded in agreement beside him. "We just wanna be normal."

"You two," Isis began, exasperated already. She moved from the reading chair to the floor so she was closer to her siblings' level. "I know you don't want to. Not many do. It is a hard burden to bear, but you know we must do it. There are so few of us in this world. We have to help with the ghosts. Otherwise this world will fill with restless spirits who will grow bitter and hateful and hurt innocent people. You know that. That's why we have to help."

"We don't care!" Amir snapped, and the tone of his voice put Isis on edge. "Give Rishid our gift, both of ours! He wants to help the spirits just as much as you and father do, so he can have my Sight!"

"Mine too!" Malik nodded fiercely.

"It doesn't work like that, you both know that." Isis spoke softly, trying to comfort them by resting her hands on their heads and stroking their hair. Neither pulled away, so she continued. "Rishid… He's not like us. I know the three of us consider him family, but he's not our blood. He's only an Ishtar in name. He won't ever have The Sight."

Malik frowned, desperate to find a way out of his duty. "But- But the Pharaoh gave his cousin his gift! Why can't I give mine to Rishid?"

"No buts, Malik. Neither of you can avoid this. You're getting The Sight whether you like it or not, and if you ignore your duties there will be consequences. Besides, father will punish you both if you try to weasel your way out of your duty."

Malik scowled at her, but the look disappeared after a moment and his shoulders slumped in surrender. With Malik dealt with Isis turned to Amir, who still had a defiant scowl on his face. "Do you have anything to say?"

Amir set his jaw, looking as though he did indeed have something to say, he just needed a moment to phrase it right- but Malik's hand on his arm cut him off before he'd even opened his mouth. The twins looked at each other again, and after a few second Amir lowered his head. "No, sister."

Pleased with his answer Isis stood, smoothing her skirt out and laying the book on the bookshelf beside the reading chair. "Good. Then it's settled. Tomorrow you two will inherit The Sight and begin your duty as mediums. I know you don't want to, and I am sorry you have to do something you don't want to do, but I promise you'll both grow to love it, just as I have." She motioned for them to stand, which they did with a little reluctance, as if their bodies still wanted to argue their side. She planted kisses on both their foreheads and smiled at their sullen faces. "It's the most rewarding thing you can ever experience, helping the ones no one else can help. But now off to bed with you both. You have a busy day tomorrow." She made a shooing motion and they crawled into their respective beds. Isis followed to tuck them in and turn off the lights beside their bed. "I love you both," she whispered into the darkness.

"Love you too," two little voices whispered back. She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the two alone.

They lay in silence for a long time. The minutes stretched on, and an eternity seemed to pass before Amir whispered, "Malik?"

Malik rolled onto his side so he faced his brother, seeing Amir looking at the ceiling in the dim moonlight that penetrated the cracks between the curtains. "Hm?"

"Do you really think we'll grow to love being mediums like Isis did?"

Malik sighed. "I don't know. I hope so, just because a life of hating it would suck."

"Yeah…"

Malik noticed a strange tone in his twin's voice and sat up on his elbows. "Are you scared?"

"…Yes," Amir confessed after a short silence. "Father and Isis… They've both gotten mean ghosts assigned to them before. That one made Isis cry…nothing makes Isis cry. I don't… I don't want to know what kind of things have to be said to make her cry. I don't want to meet any ghosts like that."

Malik nodded, not knowing what to say but understanding nonetheless. "I'm scared too. Whenever father gets a summons he's always so angry and in pain. I don't want that to happen to me…" He heard a choked sob from Amir's side of the room and slipped out from under his sheets, getting into bed with Amir. They were too old to share a bed, but neither of them wanted to be alone that night. Amir cried into his pillow while Malik tried to comfort him, his own tears leaving wet trails on his cheeks. He wondered if his father had cried like this before he was gifted with The Sight, and thought of his father's father, trying to imagine the old, frail man he hardly knew as a weeping child the night before he was to become a medium.

Slowly, their tears dried, and they fell asleep beside each other, each having his own nightmare about the future.