Notes and Disclaimers: As this is a sequel to "Beneath the Valley," there will eventually be some cameos and references to that fic, and to another fandom (but, as with "Valley," this won't be a crossover). The Phantom has repented, and is no longer an enemy. The characters aren't mine, except for Giselle, Sybille, Hoularch, and Dr. Vulsor (the idea of Dr. Vulsor's pet project must be credited to LuckyLadybug).

Raoul de Chagny was hard at work in his study, going over some important papers. Being a viscount wasn't the most rewarding profession at times; it meant long hours of making sure that his shire was running as well as his superiors would have wanted it to. He wouldn't have minded the work so much, had it not been keeping him from spending more time with his wife, Christine, and their two daughters. Oh, he always ensured that he spent time with them, but, in his opinion, he could be spending far more time.

But this time of year was usually the busiest; taxes were due from the people, and it was usually during this time that people wrote to him, asking for extensions so that they could come up with their payments. He had not the heart to refuse them, and there were usually a few cases a year where someone or the other couldn't meet the full amount of the tax, and Raoul would end up paying the difference out of his own pocket. The ones above him in rank, of course, were none the wiser about this; so long as Raoul handed over the required amount of money, they did not ask any questions.

"I wonder if it's time to insist that the Opera Ghost should pay his taxes," the viscount mused to himself. He knew that the masked musician still called the cellars of the ruined Opera Populaire as his permanent residence. The building was burned-out and condemned, which made it the perfect haunt for him. "What would the property taxes be for such a place…?"

His thoughts were diverted as the study door opened. Christine was quietly ushering in their daughters, Giselle and Sybille.

"Go on," Christine said, in her soft, gentle voice. "Say goodnight to your father, and then it's off to bed for the both of you!"

Raoul put down his work in order to allow himself to embrace one golden-haired daughter in each arm as they began their nightly duet of "Goodnight, Papa!"

"Papa, can you tell us a story tonight?" asked Sybille, the younger of the two girls.

Raoul had not the heart to refuse her anything, so he was glad when Christine told Sybille that she would tell her the story for the night.

"Your father is very busy," Christine explained. "But if you and your sister hurry off to your room, I will tell you the story of an ancient Egyptian king and how he fell in love with a general's daughter."

"And it is a true story," Raoul added, to further add to the intrigue. "But there are few who know the truth of it."

"How did you and Mama come to know about it?" asked Giselle.

Raoul wasn't sure how to reply to this; he had heard the tale first hand from the spirit of the Pharaoh Sethos himself years ago when he, Christine, and the Phantom had gone to Egypt. After solving a perplexing mystery and thwarting a ruthless gang of thieves, Raoul had won the Pharaoh's favor to such an extent that the spirit had gone so far as to proclaim Raoul as his successor, giving him free reign to take whatever ancient treasures he wished.

Raoul had refused to take anything, of course. After a discussion with the local authorities, he finally brought back a golden statue of Sethos and his queen Túaa, but not for himself—the priceless work of art stood proudly in the Louvre. He and Christine had taken Giselle and Sybille to see it several times. Too young to appreciate its worth, the girls would patiently wait as their parents would spend several minutes gazing upon the statue, remembering what had befallen them in Egypt.

They nearly hadn't made it through the adventure at all; at one point, the Phantom had been thought lost to them. He had pulled through, of course, and had returned to Paris with them. But ever since their return, the Phantom had made himself scarce, especially after Sybille had been born. Perhaps he still though of Raoul as a rival, and was humbly deciding to stay out of his way. Perhaps he didn't want to frighten Giselle and Sybille with his face (whether masked or unmasked). Or perhaps he had finally learned to enjoy the bliss of solitude.

Whatever the reason, he had only crossed paths with the Chagnys a handful of times over the recent years; most of the time, he kept in touch with his infamous notes, chronicling the stories of his journeys through Europe, and how his music was progressing. The notes were always addressed to Christine, though the Phantom did frequently inquire as to the well-being of the rest of her family. He did not correspond directly with Raoul (nor did Raoul directly correspond with him); Christine served as the messenger for these two former (but still tenacious) rivals.

Raoul sighed slightly as Christine led the children to their room. He was no longer that carefree youth; Raoul was nearing his thirtieth year, and the recent decade hadn't come and gone without him learning important lessons. Among these lessons was learning to fulfill his duties as a viscount; he often wondered what the Pharaoh would think of the way he handled the responsibilities. Also among these lessons was the realization that misadventures were a thing of the past; he had a family to look after, and he was willing to sacrifice anything for their sake. They were his top priority, and perhaps some day in the future, when his daughters were old enough, the opportunities for adventures would return.

But until that day came, he would be content with the way life was now. With Christine by his side, and with their two precious daughters, what more could he possibly want?

"There is nothing else," he realized. And he knew that the sooner he dealt with the issue of the taxes, the sooner he could spend time with the family he cherished so much.

He glanced back at the door as Christine returned.

"That was a short story, I must say," the viscount remarked.

"Three minutes in, and they had both fallen asleep," the singer replied, with an amused shake of her head. "You're the better storyteller, Raoul; they would have stayed awake longer if you had been telling it."

"Five minutes, probably," he replied, prompting Christine to laugh. "Just wait for a few more days; this whole tax business will be over then, and we shan't have to bother with it for another year."

"Something tells me, my love, that you would have preferred being out at sea rather than dealing with all of this paperwork," she said, feeling slightly sorry for him. She knew of Raoul's spirit; even as a child, he hated being forced to sit and work on something when he would rather be out on some misadventure elsewhere (usually with her).

"It cannot be helped," he replied, with a good-natured sigh.

Christine smiled and gently brushed some of the strands of blond hair out of her husband's blue eyes.

"There aren't many like you, Raoul," she said to him. "You are so selfless, and you are always quick to aid others. But take care that you do not forget yourself, as well."

Before Raoul could reply, their valet entered the room with a note for Christine and a letter for Raoul.

"Why, it's from Erik!" she observed, glancing at the familiar seal. "I was wondering where he had got to; it has been some time since he has sent any sort of message…"

"Where is he now?" Raoul asked, somewhat half-heartedly.

"He says he is very near Paris; he should be on the train by the time we receive this," she said, after reading the letter. "I expect he's coming back for a few days before leaving again… He says that his latest composition has earned him a bit of money; that's nice for him…"

"I suppose he signed it 'O.G.' as usual…" predicted Raoul.

"Yes, he did," she admitted. "But never mind. Who sent the other letter?"

Raoul glanced at the envelope.

"It's from Mademoiselle Ishtar in Luxor," he said, surprised to be hearing from the young Egyptian lady after all of these years.

"Neferma'at?" asked Christine, remembering her friend as well. "What does she say? Oh, she has written the letter in hieroglyphs! …But why?"

Raoul hadn't come away from Egypt without learning how to read the ancient script.

"There might be trouble," the viscount said, after reading the note. "There's been some sort of robbery; listen to this: 'My dear friend, forgive me for being out of touch all these years. My family is fine, and I pray that yours is, too. However, there is a serious reason as to why I am writing to you, and I must write in the ancient script, lest this letter falls into the wrong hands. There is a cursed ancient village not too far from here called Kul Elna, which was abandoned three thousand years ago. No one ever goes to this site, in spite of whatever artifacts may rest there, for a very dark aura repels all who go near. That is why it concerns me that someone has made his or her way into the village site. We do not know who it was, but we were astounded to see, in a foreign newspaper, a picture of an artifact that must have been taken from the village. Alas, it seems to be in the possession of a world-famous opera singer (I have enclosed the picture from the paper, for you to see); I am doubtful that she stole it, but whoever the thief was, he or she must have given it to her. There have been many new and unfamiliar faces in Luxor as of late; the thief could be any one of them, simply using the diva to take the artifact to elsewhere. This concerns me, because if the dark auras of Kul Elna are taken somewhere else, it could bring about a terrible calamity. I felt it my duty to alert you to these goings-on, as the spirit of Pharaoh Sethos has declared you to be his successor. I will keep you updated, if possible. Please convey my warmest regards to your family, and to Mr. Erik. Yours sincerely, Neferma'at Ishtar.'"

"Oh, dear…" said Christine. "I hope nothing serious truly happens. Or, if by some chance, they can find whoever took the…" She trailed off at the look on Raoul's face as he glanced at the newspaper clipping. "What is it?"

"Carlotta!" the viscount exclaimed, in disbelief.

"What!?"

Christine quickly glanced over her husband's shoulder to glance at the clipping. Indeed, it was Carlotta Gudiccelli, the former star of the Opera Populaire. And, around her neck, a strange Egyptian pendant, with the image of the jackal-headed deity Anubis upon it, was clearly visible in the black-and-white photograph.

"This photograph looks familiar," said Christine. "I feel as though I have seen it somewhere before…"

"You have," said Raoul, his eyes narrowed. "Do you remember the article in the Epoque a few weeks back? It was announcing Carlotta's return to Paris, and it had this same picture."

"Yes, that's right," Christine realized, remembering how annoyed she felt upon hearing that Carlotta was coming back. "I'm willing to wager that Neferma'at may have come across a copy of the Epoque, and saw this picture! …But, does this mean that Carlotta will be bringing this 'dark aura' here!?"

"I'm afraid it seems likely," said Raoul. "Whoever the thief was, he probably knew that she would be going to Paris, and he wants this pendant to come to Paris with her. And I'm willing to make a wager, too: I'm wagering that the thief wants it to come here, specifically because we are here."

"No!" gasped Christine. "But who do you think would be after us like this? The only enemy we have who could come up with such a thing is that thief-leader, Hoularch… but he was brought to justice, was he not?"

"Apparently, he has escaped," said Raoul, fury evident in his voice as he brought his fist down upon the table. "If that monster comes within a dozen yards of Giselle and Sybille, Heaven stop me from--"

"Raoul, surely there must be something we can do!" she said, before he could finish his oath. "We could take them to my father's old cottage by the seaside, Raoul; we should be safe there."

Raoul stood up, gently placing his hands on Christine's shoulders.

"You take them and go, Christine," he said, softly. "I will join you as soon as I have resolved this tax matter."

"No, Raoul; I dare not leave you if that evil soul is coming!"

"Christine, try to understand…" he replied. "If I lose you three, I lose everything."

"And how will it be for us if we lose you!?"

Raoul searched for a reply, but couldn't find one. Instead, he took Christine into his embrace, as they both tried to reassure each other of the events that were about to unfold.