The boat departed for Alexandria soon after. Raoul spoke to Christine about their itinerary.

"We're not staying in Alexandria," he said. "We'll be leaving immediately for Luxor, but on our way back, we could stop at Giza if that would interest you. And I had planned for us to take a trip down the Nile, but I don't think that will be possible now."

"Because the Angel will be there?" she asked, glancing back at him.

"No, not at all," he replied, quickly. "I realized that summer would not be the best time for such a venture."

"Raoul, you are incapable of lying," she said, with a slight smile. "I never intended for him to invite himself along. But he has never had the chance to enjoy life, so I am happy that he has the chance to now. But you are here, too, and for that, I am even happier."

She kissed him.

Raoul now leaned on the railing beside her as the boat traveled on. The waters around them were crystalline and serene. Every so often, a glimmer of fish scales shone from within the sea.

Raoul was no stranger to the sea; his family had been one of mariners. As such, he was quite at home to the feel of the boat and the occasional mist of seawater that gently swept across his face. Christine, too, seemed at ease in these surroundings.

"Raoul," she said. "You must forgive me for not saying this as often as I should, but I am happy to be with you."

"I always intended for you to be happy," he whispered back, remembering all of the trials and tribulations he had undergone to provide for their future.

The young couple watched as the sun emerged fully from the horizon and began its ascent across the sky. They stood on the deck and talked. They talked about their plans for when they arrived in Egypt, and their hopes for what they would find. Eventually, it was noon.

"Shall we go for lunch?" asked Raoul, almost reluctantly.

She nodded.

The ship was carrying a vast number of people, most of whom were also planning sightseeing or excavations in Egypt. Raoul felt slightly out-of-place among the well-versed Egyptologists, so it was a bit of a surprise when one of them approached him.

"Would you be, perhaps, the Vicomte de Chagny?" asked a slightly older man.

"I am," he answered.

The man shook his hand and tipped his hat to Christine.

"So you're the one who sponsored the finding of that lost Pharaoh?" he asked. "I read about it in the latest edition of the Epoch. I don't know why you'd bother leaving the comforts of home to search through sand dunes when you already have so much in your favor."

"We wouldn't miss this for anything," said Christine, with a slight frown. "Of course we would go."

"You seem to have heard of my family name from that article," said Raoul. "And yours would be…?"

"Ah, forgive me," he replied. "Hoularch is the name, my boy."

"Well, Monsieur Hoularch, we appreciate your concern," said Raoul. "But we both decided to travel to Egypt. And if you don't mind my asking, what brings you to search through sand dunes?"

"Search? Me, dig through rocks and ruins for a moment's fame?" Hoularch asked, erupting into laughter. "I have no desire to do so! No, I am en route to meet my future bride!"

"Oh, how nice for you!" exclaimed Christine.

Hoularch showed them the picture of what seemed to be a local girl.

"Her name is Neferma'at Ishtar; she is supposedly descended from the ancients, and was given that name," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I won't remain in your way any longer."

"That was… odd," Raoul remarked. "He seemed like he wanted to talk to me, but ended up talking about his fiancée."

"He must be excited about his wedding, poor man," said Christine, with a shake of her head. "Didn't you want to tell everyone when we were engaged, Raoul?"

"Yes, but I didn't… upon your request, I might add," he replied. "And the Opera Ghost still managed to find out about it."

"Speaking of which, where did he disappear to?" asked Christine, looking around. "Oh, I hope he isn't trying to do anything foolish, like leaving notes around the deck or staterooms…"

The Phantom, in the meantime, was not leaving notes, but he was carrying on his inspection of the ship. He mused over the near-sightedness of the other passengers; he could have danced in circles around them, and they still wouldn't have spotted him as he crept from shadow to shadow, his sharp eyes scanning everything, down to the last minute detail.

He head heard snippets of conversations as he crept by talkers. But as he passed by a closed stateroom, his ears caught the mention of the name "Chagny."

Of course, he paused at this point, wondering how his former rival's name was being dragged into the conversation. Still hidden, he strained his ears, picking up mentions of the article from the Epoch and something called "Wadjet." But his thoughts were diverted by a voice coming from behind him.

"Didn't you know that it's against the will of Ma'at to eavesdrop?"

His heart skipped a beat, half of him startled, and the other half furious that he had been spotted.

He turned to see a pair of cold eyes glaring at him. A robe-clad stranger was surveying him with a disapproving look.

"I know all about the 42 rules of Ma'at; I read all about those in my younger days," he replied to the stranger, annoyed. "So if you don't mind, kindly leave me to my defiance!"

"But this isn't the first time you've defied Ma'at," the man said. "Is that not true, Erik?"

The visible part of the Phantom's face paled. He was certain that he had never met this stranger, so how on Earth could he have known his name!?

"You claim that you knew the 42 laws, did you not?" the man asked. "And yet, despite the knowledge, you have, in your short lifetime, broken 28 of them!"

"So I have," the Phantom replied, regaining his composure. "Do you have a point to all of this?"

"Ma'at will wreak her vengeance upon you," the man warned. "You cannot and will not escape the crimes you have committed, Erik."

The Phantom didn't reply; he had changed his ways after granting Raoul and Christine permission to marry. Christine's kiss had been the driving force behind his change; she had awakened within him the goodness that had been buried away since he had been a child.

But before he could say another word to his accuser, the man had vanished. There had been no indication that anyone had been there at all; he hadn't left so much as a footprint behind.

"Good riddance," the Phantom thought.

Deciding that he had best move on before anyone else spotted him, he did so. But a part of his mind was still uneasy. Many questions surfaced in his consciousness. Who was that stranger? How had he known his name? How had he known that he, Erik, had broken exactly 28 of the ancient laws? And why would ancient laws even hold any force thousands of years afterwards?

And he had to admit to himself that as ridiculous as it was, he had been slightly unnerved by the warning that he would be paying for his previous misdeeds, even if it had come from an unreliable source…

"Opera Ghost?"

The Phantom was startled for a split-second until he realized that he actually recognized the new voice.

"Oh, it's you," he said to Raoul.

"We were wondering where you had gotten to," said Christine. "Are you alright? Your face looks…" She paused, catching herself in time. "You don't look well. It's far past noon; have you eaten anything yet?"

"I'm perfectly fine," he replied, upset that Christine had to see him like this. "I just had a discussion with some fool obsessed with part of an ancient script. But perhaps you are right; maybe I need to eat something."

Raoul watched the Phantom's retreat, with some confusion. The Phantom was not as pleased as when he had last taken his leave of them. What Raoul hadn't realized was that the "ancient script" that the Phantom had referred to had been the Book of the Dead.

"I've never seen him like that before," Christine was saying, as she and Raoul returned to their stateroom. "Something that the other person said must have really upset him."

"Christine, you have to admit that it isn't all that difficult," said Raoul. "Maybe that person compared his face to a monster from an ancient legend; that would've been enough."

"Maybe you're right, but I still think…" she trailed off as she picked up a folded piece of paper from the ground. "Someone must have slipped this under the door of our room. It's a note…"

"Oh, no…" said Raoul, slapping his forehead.

"No, it's not from him," she said, with a slight roll of her eyes. "It's from Monsieur Hoularch. You were right; he does want to talk to you."

She handed him the note.

"Chagny, there are several things you should know before you decide to go on with your original plans. My fiancée has told me much, and I fear that this expedition may not be safe for you or your wife. I can't explain things in this note or in the crowded dining hall; I request that the both of you meet with me as soon as possible on the starboard deck; I'll be waiting there for the rest of the day. Take caution when you go. Sincerely, Hoularch."

"Subtle, isn't he?" Raoul asked, sarcastically.

"What wouldn't be safe?" asked Christine, a worried expression in her eyes. "I understand that there's a danger of sunstroke, but what else is there besides that? Is there really a Pharaoh's curse!?"

"I expect our friend has the answers," said Raoul. "Christine, can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Can you go down to the dining hall and alert the Opera Ghost about this?" he asked. "Ask him to be within earshot while we have our meeting with Hoularch; I think he deserves to hear whatever Hoularch has to say, since he seems especially concerned about the old scripts."

"Yes, of course," she said. "I'll speak to him right now before he goes on his rounds again."

She kissed Raoul and left as he sat down on the bed and reread the note. Who was this Hoularch, and why did he seem so concerned over what happened to him and Christine?

And then there was the case of the Phantom's mysterious visitor, as well. What had that been about?

And why was any of this even an issue!? Raoul had intended for this trip to be enjoyable for him and Christine. Yes, he could put up with the Phantom, especially now that he was mostly staying out of their way. But why had all of this other talk of dangers and warnings suddenly come up?

A slight movement caught in his peripheral vision distracted him slightly. He looked up from the letter, glancing near the headboard of the bed. Something was moving beneath the sheets.

Raoul cast a derisive glance around the room; he had paid good money for the room, and was more than annoyed that it hadn't even been cleared of vermin. The last thing he needed to worry about now was an infestation of insects.

"Typical…" he thought. "Everyone seems to be following the path of least resistance these days, aren't they…?"

He pulled back the sheets, determined to see what exactly he had to complain about. But whatever he had been expecting was definitely not what he saw.

Nestled just beneath a pillow, a mere five inches from his hand was a fiery-eyed cobra, its hood outstretched.