Author's Note: Originally, I was going to split this up into two different chapters. After having them both written out and ready for publication, I decided that putting them together as one would be better. I want to thank everybody for their reading this story and their kind reviews on it. It's been pretty different from any fanfiction I've done before, and it makes me happy to see that it has been well received. I'm also proud to see that it seems to be one of the lingering stories that isn't about smut. :P Not that smut is a bad thing, but give me a good story any day, especially when it comes to Phantom! It is true... I did get a little darker in the chapters past, but honestly, I personally like that sort of thing and felt that with this being based on fairytales and folklore, it was only fitting to take that turn. it will be the same for this chapter and the ones to follow, but in true fairytale fashion, there will be a happily ever after. Anyway, we are getting closer to the end here and I truly do appreciate every view and review I have gotten here. Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

- Phantom's angel

Le Fantôme et L'ange

Chapter 16

Gjenta

Raoul felt hopeless as they journeyed on, relying on the courage of his stallion to guide them wherever he felt it best. They dodged the brush and low hanging branches, breathing heavily together and anticipating anything to occur. The moon was only half-filled tonight, teasing Raoul with some hope of guidance, yet leaving him reliant on his lantern for the most accurate reading of the terrain.

Cesar carried Raoul forward with great determination. He now sensed the urgency in his rider's hold — tight on the reigns and responsive to everything — as he could smell the sweat gathering within his palms. His footing grew more sure and his rider became more confident as they ventured further into the oncoming darkness. Cesar gave a heavy neigh, pressing his hoofs deeper into the earth.

To his left, Raoul could see one glimmer of hope shining just off of his path. The sparse moonlight was reflecting off the surface of the river, offering a small additional light for his travel. He turned to look, fearing a korrigan would materialize within that curious pool. All he saw was a black abyss painted with swirls of white, following he and the stallion deeper into the forest. It was then that Raoul remembered that Christine had been near the river when she had stayed overnight in the forest. Like fireflies lighting his way, Raoul was finding more help along the course, giving him more confidence as he rode. At this rate, his only concern now was simply finding his companion. If only he could be presented with an answer to this one doubt…

Christine fell in and out of consciousness from the pain pulsing from her head. The bounds around her wrists and ankles could not compare to the feeling of daggers to the side of her temples, even when vision was darkened and her mind was only responsive to the dreams of her sleep. Now, the sound of crisp leaves bending beneath foot turned Christine's head to the side, nearly waking her, yet she was able to calm her thinking to drift back to sleep. Anything to let the torment subside, even if just a little.

It was when the sun had set and the lighting was dim that Christine began to wonder where the dream and reality crossed. Where along this path was she seeing the product of her memory and where was she seeing the real forest around her? She hoped to find any hint to alleviate her feelings, yet the fantôme never appeared to her. Time was slipping away from them and she knew they would have to stop at some point. There was only so much ground that could be covered before they would have reached Christine's resting tree. This journey, however, felt much longer than the one she had previously taken. There was no saying where she would be taken.

Nohra walked ahead of her the entire time, holding her hand over her shoulder as if she was holding the invisible chains which confined Christine. Christine remained elevated above the ground, laying backwards and looking up toward the blackening sky. Every so often, as she felt apt to it, Christine would turn her head to the side to scan the land around her, hoping she would see her protective fantôme watching after her.

There were so many who Christine could think about in this moment. Her father, left alone at the cottage, worried sick once again by his daughter's foolishness. Her friend, just as worried, and feeling guilty for not being more diligent in watching over his travel companion. Her mother, who was once an invalid, but now dead and surely with the Maker.

Yet none of their faces came to Christine's mind. She did not fear for their lives, but for the continued suffering of the fantôme of the forest. Despite the fear she had for him, she could think of nothing more than how she pitied his fate, and how she so hoped to have reversed it.

Christine closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift back into her mind and away from the pulsing pain. Her eyes remained tight and her hands clutched, but in her heart, she was back in the forest on her own accord. She was surrounded by the sunlight and the trees, searching for the feeling of those mournful eyes gazing upon her. As she stood, waiting to accept his cold touch, she allowed herself to call to him, using a melody that was dismal for the occasion.

När som jag var på mitt adertonde år,

det var en vacker gosse som föll uti min håg.

Den tänkte jag förevigt att få äga.

Music had drawn him from the darkness once before, alerting to the stranger's presence in his domain, but also to the distant memories of melody that remained somewhere deep inside of him. And it had drawn him back to her, having him accompany her in music as he lulled her to sleep. He called her 'the song;' an embodiment of music. But it was he that was more like Bragi, the god of music and poetry, while Christine was like Lofn, the goddess of forbidden love. He provoked her to sing while she longed for what could never be.

Men denna min tanke rätt snarelig försvann,

det var en annan flicka som lades i hans famn.

Den liknar han vid rosende blomma.

Despite the sunlight beaming from the heavens, the fantôme appeared before her, draped in the animal pelt cloak and protected beneath the shade of the mask of leaves and twigs. His hand was stretched out toward Christine and his eyes bore into her, urging her to step forward. She could not believe it. He was standing in full daylight, totally visible. He had overridden the laws of the curse and was here for her once again. And just like the barriers of her existence, she wished to step her boundaries and follow him wherever he led.

Nog än jag hållit fader och moder så kär,

samt syskon och vänner, som älskat mig här,

så går dock denna kärlek över alla.

As she tried to move to him, she found herself planted and unable to move forward. The roots of the mighty trees of the forest had once sheltered her, but now they were wrapping around her ankles and containing her. She tried to kick them off, but their grip grew tighter and they pulled her deeper into their bed below the surface of the earth.

Tack för att du varit min endaste tröst

och tack för alla stunder jag vilat vid ditt bröst.

I himmlen skall vi åter bli förenta.

She sang louder to the fantôme but found that the end to her song was her bidding a goodbye to him. His form beneath cloak faded, concealed though it was, and it fell into a heap on the ground in a cloud of dust. The mask fell last, landing on top of the huddle facing Christine as if to tease her.

The song faded away with the image of the fantôme, back into the blackness of Christine's mind. Her eyes clenched tight and her head disagreed, rolling back and forth before she came out of her restless slumber. The trees overhead chattered by the company of the breeze, while the crisp air of the northern sea gave them a conversation piece. The sunlight from her dream had dispelled into a chilled night that looked memorable to Christine's last journey out into the woods. She craned her neck enough to allow her to see Nohra ahead, still guiding her through the trees.

Christine could now actually tell that this was not a dream. The air had more weight to it here, and the pair of her temples and binds were more noticeable, though thankfully fading. With the dwindling pain came her knowledge of being watched. All around her, she could feel the hounding eyes of the dead, following and obeying their master's silent command. They seemed fully aware that something was important about the beautiful woman, despite their inability for actual memory. Within the throng of all the cursed souls, Christine could only pray that her fantôme was amongst them. That he could be there before Nohra bestowed her magic upon the only untouched soul of Perros.

And then, Christine recalled her dream and the manner which the fantôme had found her before. It was simple, really. All Christine had to do was call to him the only way she truly knew how.

Being sure to not stir Nohra's suspicions, Christine quietly began to sing the sad song she had performed in her dream. It started as a hum, which turned Nohra's eye to her, but she continued walking without protest. Then Christine began to link in the lyrics, which she prayed the language was unfamiliar to the sorceress. She kept quietly singing, nearly reaching the end of the second verse, when Nohra slowed her pace.

"Beautifully sung," she remarked.

Twilight was coming on fast and Christine could feel Nohra's hand growing tense on the twine. Perhaps just a little bit more into the song would suffice…

"You know, he used to be a lover of music as well…"

Christine grew tense as Nohra came to a stop at their destination. She tried to keep her racing heart steady. Nohra twisted her wrist, beckoning the unseen forces that held Christine in the air to turn her back down onto her feet.

"He taught his wife to sing, as well as the children in the village who wished for lessons."

It cannot be.

Christine couldn't hide her understanding. She closed her eyes and remembered the story of the fantôme's only other contact with the living; a woman alone on her front porch and his desire to reach out to her. His wife. Christine should have known, but the fantasy of it all was all too beautiful to look deeper into.

Christine's face fell too quickly into that of astonishment and she could see by the smile of Nohra's face that she knew more than Christine had expected.

"You knew all along…" Christine whispered.

"No, my dear," Nohra said matter of factly. "You told me about him yourself."

Confusion set across Christine's brow.

"As you spoke with the young de Changy boy, I was there also. I was a fly on the wall, and a voice in his head."

"You tricked him?"

"I simply listened in…"

"Though nobody invited you!"

"I did not realize that it was a party," Nohra smiled.

"You vile woman!" Christine cried, twisting her arms back and forth with rage.

She nearly broke down into tears, twisting the vine around her wrists and stumbling on her unsteady feet. More colorful words were forming on her tongue, prepared to be flung at Nohra merely because she could, when…

"His name was Erik."

Christine stopped immediately and closed her eyes.

It was now more real that the fantômes of Perros were the wandering souls of the dead. The consequences of the curse were felt further as Christine's mind embraced the name of her fantôme. He was more alive now. More human.

With an urgent turn toward Nohra, Christine found the sorceress and furrowed her brow.

"Do not be so indignant, my dear," Nohra said. "I have had a hand in Perros for generations. I hold the ill fate of countless others as well. It is not only your precious Erik—"

"How dare you use his name," Christine cried. "How dare you use any of their names at all! You befriend them, gain trust from them, and diligently lie to them during their lives, all while knowing the evil scam you have set them up for. Even in their death, they follow you like hounds, waiting for word from their unknown master, unaware that it was you who wronged them from the beginning. You have no shame, yet here you stand, insulting the humans they once were, and the afterlife they all deserve! I hope that after this, I come back as a ghoul, merely so I can come steal your vile heart!"

"Beautifully said, child. But I have been around long enough to know that you have to push and pull for what you desire. Unfortunately for you, it is too late for that."

"This plague you have set here will be discovered," Christine seethed.

"If that is to be, then it will not be done by you," Nohra breathed into Christine's ear, stroking her yellow hair.

Christine writhed away from her, pushing Nohra off from her shoulder. The woman laughed, producing a deep growl of a sound from the depth of her gut. Christine cringed, wishing desperately she could break from her constraint and hit the woman across the face. But she knew that anger would not save her or anybody else.

Her only hope now was for the one who had saved her once before. She knew exactly how to alert to her rescue. She just needed Nohra to leave her alone…

Nohra turned around sharply and grabbed ahold of Christine's wrists, being sure to remain as close to Christine as possible. Her hands grazed across Christine's skin and her breath rested upon her cheek. Christine turned her head away, daring Nohra to leave her now.

"Now, dear," Nohra whispered into Christine's ear. "Let us loosen those binds around your little hands. That feels better, does it not?"

Nohra crossed behind Christine, running her fingers along her back and over her neck. Christine closed her eyes, feeling relief pass over her wrists as the binds dropped to the forest floor. Her arms were now free. Christine wrung her wrists with each hand and looked up to Nohra suspiciously.

"I want to give you a glimmer of hope as I leave you here to the fantômes and the ghouls, just for the fun of it." Nohra said. "After all, you are a cleaver young girl, are you not, Christine?"

Christine turned to now see Nohra on her other shoulder, leaning in over her and running her hand down to her finger tips. Christine pulled her arm away and glared at her.

Just leave me…

"You have surely thought of your next move," Nohra said. "Some tricky little stunt that I would never have considered."

Her lips were against Christine's ear. Her hands wandered across Christine's shoulders and down toward her waist. A new pressure point pressed against Christine's hips, revealing that Nohra had tied a new bind that anchored her to a tree. Christine pushed the woman away and tried to break away from her new confines. This vine was tighter than the others but offered more dexterity to her arms. Yet with the mighty tree as her anchor, Christine knew she could not get herself out of it on her own.

"Not nearly as restrictive," Nohra said with a laugh. "But I want you to try and fight while they take hold of you. I want you to struggle for your life."

Christine remained silent, trying to prepare for her next move. Nohra seemed content with her work and appeared to be turning to take her leave for her next deed. Christine knew she would need to be fast as soon as she left because she could sense the presence of the lurking spirits just beyond the light of the sorceress's lantern.

"Oh," Nohra said. "I almost forgot…"

Nohra stalked back toward Christine with a wolf's smile across her teeth. As soon as she reached Christine again, her hand shot out from underneath her cloak, gripping around Christine's throat. Christine's gasp was caught in the sorceress's palm, suppressed by shock as she began to tremble. The hatred in the woman's eyes strangled the hope behind her plan to alert the fantôme to her distress. The grip around her neck constricted, yet did not inflict as much pain as Christine imagined with the loathing behind Nohra's eyes. Instead, a calculated revenge slipped past her distain and spread a sneer over her lips.

Heat radiated from underneath Nohra's palm, against the flesh of Christine's neck, and a new wave of pain rushed over her body. A ball of fire seemed to pull out from Christine's diaphragm and lift up through her body, obediently recalling up toward the hand which beckoned it. Her hands shot up to Nohra's, desperately kicking her feet in protest, yet the woman's power was too strong. Christine closed her eyes and held back a cry as the burning continued up through her chest and then trailed to the top of her throat. She thought that she would breathe fire like the mighty dragons from fables, bellowing as they flew over head of giants and orcs. Instead, the heat stopped within Nohra's grasp and pooled at the top of her throat, before Nohra pulled her hand away and beckoned a shining ball of light out from Christine's mouth.

Christine tried to scream, but the sound never emitted. She tried to speak, but no words formed or exited her stunned throat. Her hands turned to her chest, pressing against her heart and trying to reactivate her ability to speak. Not even a whimper could pass her lips as she frantically tried to make any noise possible.

Nohra dissolved into a fit of laughter, turning her back to Christine and pushing back a piece of her hair which had fallen across her face. Christine struggled against the confining vines around her waist, hoping they were simply too tight for her to properly breathe. Nohra turned back around and charged toward Christine, forcing her to step back into the tree for support. Her face pressed against Christine's, her emerald eyes on fire with contempt but her smile remained plastered with pride.

"Try singing for your precious savior now," she cooed.

Though she was never one for begging, Christine knew it was her only hope, if she could only utter a plea at all. Christine ran to the end of the vine which contained her. She groped for the sorceress's hand as she turned away from her, pushing up the dirt from behind her and falling forward in her efforts. The words that were running through Christine's mind could not be backed by the sound of any protest as her mouth moved mutely to no avail.

Please. Stop You cannot leave me like this! I will do anything…

Nohra walked a few paces from Christine's reach and turned to observe her work. It seemed she had waited for backlash from this curse for so long and she had now received it from her least likely contender. The thought within her mind had her chuckle to herself before she reached deep within her cloak to retrieve a small candle. She pulled it out of the cover and held it up in the air, giving it a quick twist within her fingertips for Christine to see.

"Consider it my gift to you, Christine Daaé," Nohra said as she stuck the toe of her boot into the ground and twisted it into the earth to form a small hole. "This gift to you is time. However long this candle lasts will be the amount of time you have left as a living, thinking, and remembering human. It really is a precious thing, dearie. I recommend you savor it for as long as it lasts…"

The woman bent down beside the hole she had created and placed the candle in the center of it. Her hands carelessly pushed the surrounding dirt into the hole and around the wax base and she patted it down gently so not to dirty her hands. She brushed her palms together and clapped the dirt away, and then hovered her hands over the wick. She took in a deep breath of air and then concentrated her attention to the candle. In a flash, the candle had been lit through her magic and was waving in the cool night air wildly. It seemed she would offer no more magic to protect the small flame.

"It should be a breezy evening," Nohra said with a shrug of her shoulders.

With that, the sorceress turned and walked away from Christine, disappearing behind the glow of Christine's only saving grace.

Christine was really lost in the forest this time. She now had no voice to speak, let alone sing for the fantôme to come save her. No stranger could find her if she tried to call loud enough. A scream would fall deaf with a throat that would not produce the sound. Try as she may, there was no way her voice would come back to her. The sorceress was too powerful to match. All she had on her side was time, whether brief or lasting, she could not tell. With one last lurch at the end of the vine, Christine's legs flew up from behind her and she fell straight on her stomach with a thud. Even with the pain of her fall, no sound emitted.

It was hopeless.

Not only was Christine useless in saving the soulless spirits of the forest, she would now soon become one herself.

- Phantom's sangel