This chapter is a little graphic (well maybe not a little...). So please read with some caution!

Chapter 29: The Serpentine Shah

-Erik POV:-

He had always found comfort in darkness. It was accompanied with silence, a stillness that allowed him to disconnect from the world entirely. He could forget the ache in his heart, the madness of his mind, and the restlessness of his nerves. He could forget her eyes and the rosiness of her succulent lips.

"You're back early." Nadir's voice rang throughout his study. He seemed to have sensed Erik's presence without turning on the lights as he entered his study. He closed the door behind him, enveloping them in darkness once again.

"The Russian was on time." Erik responded. His voice was hollow, quiet in the darkness.

Nadir sighed. He leaned against something wooden that squeaked under the pressure of his body. Erik didn't pay attention as to what, instead closing his eyes. They sat in silence, Nadir's interruption a mere whisper in the still air. "She didn't go."

Erik's hands tightened into fists. "I couldn't make her." There was a pang of anger in his tone, which Nadir sensed instantly.

"I didn't come to tell you I told you so. I came to see how you were."

"I'll unfortunately survive, as I always do."

"Ever the optimist."

Erik didn't respond. They remained silent for a few moments, Erik barely hearing Nadir shuffle around the room. One thought had consumed his mind: What next? He usually had a plan, some semblance of it forming in his mind nearly instantly. Now his mind was a blank sheet. Every past plan had risks; risks that never bothered him before. The thought of injuring himself or others was always a possibility that he had shrugged off. It encouraged him to be careful but never deterred him from executing his plan. Now the idea of his plan failing and causing pain to someone else terrified him.

Eventually, Nadir interrupted the peaceful stillness again.

"We have been planning his downfall for years, Erik. I think now is the time to enact our plan."

Erik shook his head, running his fingers through his black hair. "His son does not have enough followers to support a smooth transition into power. He isn't ready to be the next Shah."

"He has enough to tame this country. It...Now may be our only chance."

Erik sighed. As much as he wanted to avoid the mere thought of it, he knew that he would have to take a drastic change to free Christine. If the Shah is pleased by her performance, it would only be a matter of time before he decided to use her for other means. He crossed his arms, nodding his head in agreement. "When will he return to Tehran?"

"In a few days, no specific date given for precautionary measures. I heard a rumour he plans to meet some allies from Europe who are to arrive in Tehran soon."

"I didn't know he had any allies in Europe." Erik questioned.

"Neither did I. Whoever they are, they could provide the extra assistance we require. If they come with supplies, we can increase our forces on the front."

Erik's thoughts were not on the matter at hand, in fact, they weren't on anything at all. Nadir's ramblings faded into background noise. His eyes glanced up at Nadir, his bright eyes glowing in the night. The old man stepped closer, hesitantly placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I hope you never feel the same motivation I do to end this tyrant's reign. I hope you never have to know what it is like to lose someone you love to him. But I encourage you to imagine the agony and let it inhibit your apprehension. We must act now."

His heart raced, but he parted his lips and breathed out that undeniable truth. The words nearly burned as they escaped, but Erik could not deny the rush of euphoria that warmed him as he admitted what he had denied for so long. "I love her."

"I know."

"I love her, Nadir."

"I know."

"He'll hurt her."

"Not if we stop him."

-Christine POV:-

"It is time."

Christine numbly heard Darius as he and a handful of guards arrived. The rest of the morning had been a slow blur, each of them slowly waking up from their beds and silently agreeing to rehearse. Her voice was ghostly, but rang pristine throughout the dungeon. Carlotta followed suit, her usual boisterousness subdued. As Piangi, Louis, and Gabriel sang their parts, Carlotta stepped closer to Christine.

"Why did you do it?"

Christine furrowed her brow, responding with a questioning glare.

"Why did you spare her? She did all those horrible things, but you didn't...you didn't." Carlotta's lips formed into a thin line, unable to finish her words. Christine watched in confusion as the former prima donna blinked away small droplets of tears that formed in her eyes.

"If we let that anger consume us, we will never have the opportunity to love and learn." She recited her father's words, glancing warmly at Carlotta. Carlotta gawked at her. She swallowed.

"You are the bravest woman I have ever met." She whispered.

Christine's eyes widened. Never had the prima donna given her a compliment, let alone spoken to her with such genuineness. Carlotta's trembling lips formed a slight smile before looking away from her. Christine continued to stare. For so long she had felt like a mouse in a world full of cats. Her father had always asked her to be brave, and she never felt like she could live to his expectations when surrounded by musical giants. Yet the Queen of Cats herself stood before her in terror and admiration. Was she truly that brave?

She wondered the same question as she stared into Darius's knowing eyes. He helped Sophia stand, his eyes gawking at her bandaged wrist. Madame Giry had made some form of splint for Sophia, who had remained reclusive throughout most of the night and morning. She had dragged a mat to the corner of the cage, curling into a ball and refusing to talk to anyone except for Ignacio who tried to comfort her from the other cell. Her wrist was wrapped by little scraps of cloth into a neutral position. Her eyes were red from her tears and they remained on the floor until Ignacio brought her into an embrace.

Christine felt Madame Giry's hand snake around hers. "Are you ready?" She asked as they walked the dungeon halls.

Christine nodded.

Could you be brave for me, Christine?

Her father didn't even need to ask. She straightened her shoulders, looking Madame Giry directly into her eyes. She could feel everyone else staring towards her.

"I am ready." She glanced back at the disheveled crew. "We are ready."

Meg smiled slightly, nodding towards her. Louis gripped Jammes's shoulder encouragingly. Carlotta wiped away a tear as Sorelli cracked her knuckles.

"Let's kick some Persian ass." Gabriel chuckled.

Madame Giry glanced back at him. Gabriel nearly flinched, preparing for her usual displeased quip at his inappropriate comments. Instead, the corner of her lip twisted upward into a sly smile. "Though crude, no precise words have been spoken. Let's kick some Persian ass."

Most of the crew chuckled, Ignacio squeezing his wife a little closer. "We can do this." He whispered. Meg touched his shoulder, diminishing all of his fears of being ostracized.

"We can do this together."

Tears streamed from his cheeks as he blubbered his thanks for her kindness. Christine looked forward, leading the group out of the dungeon with her head held high. Ignacio was correct. Together, they could do this.

-Later-

The main hall: an expanse of gold, silks, mahogany and marble. Christine gawked at the majesty they were brought to; a large hall with marble columns that highlighted the long walk to the throne. It was unlike anything she had ever seen.

The throne was round and foreboding, a dark wood decorated with silks and golden trimming. There were two elaborate though smaller chairs next to it, the three of them raised on a thick slab of ivory coloured marble. They remained empty, her heart skipping a beat at the thought. Where was the Shah?

The cast was led to the front of the hall, sitting perpendicular to the far corner of the throne's raised platform. They sat near a column, their view of the door blocked. Christine felt Meg hold her hand. She glanced at her. They had spent most of their morning cleaning each other's face with the little water they had left over. They wore their costumes which were extra fabric placed over their already existing clothes. Christine barely looked like a Queen, but less like a ragged martyr. Now Meg's clean face was hardened, her eyes the only sign of uneasiness. Christine squeezed her hand. Darius stood in front of them, other guards at their side. He glanced back at the ballerinas, giving them a slight nod. The four girls returned the gesture, all understanding the look in his eyes. He wished them good luck.

The door of the throne burst open, the cast nearly jumping at the sudden sound. A man spoke in Persian, causing all the guards to straighten, their feet clicking together as their hands slapped their sides. Christine felt her heart tighten. This was it. He was here.

The crew remained frozen on the ground, their huddled bodies shaking as their hearts beat against their rib cages. Carlotta blubbered some tears, Piangi quick to hush her gently. Darius turned to them, motioning them to stand. They all stood, their heads downcast. Christine listened to the sound of approaching footsteps, each one like a dagger to her back. Each step he grew closer. Each step she felt her body tremble more.

Then, from around the corner of the pillar, the Shah appeared. His thin frame was draped in golden and crimson, a long robe resting on his shoulders. He wore a military uniform, the front of his high collared coat decorated with golden medals and ribbons. Instead of a crown, he wore an elegant black hat, round yet tall like a small cylinder with no brim. Pinned to the front was a large golden feather etched with diamonds. Her eyes widened at his lavish appearance. How could something so luxurious be so malignant?

Slightly behind him, two men followed suit. The first was a large man, draped in a crimson military uniform and a tall headpiece. He glowered at the crew, one of his hands gripping onto the large curved sword at his belt. His eyes were bright like fire and Christine felt Meg's hand shake next to her. He must have been the Shah's personal guard, a giant among men with arms larger than her torso.

The other walked with his hands in his pocket, his black cape trailing behind him to reveal his fine dark suit. The sight of him caused her breath to hitch, a comforting warmth calming her turning stomach. His black tunic top was shorter, almost similar to the military top of the Shah though it lacked any medals or colour. His black, porcelain mask had been cleaned and now gleamed as he walked by. Christine nearly breathed out his name in relief. Erik.

The three men strode forward, Erik keeping his eyes focused ahead. He seemed calm, confident in his stride. The two men knelt as the Shah stepped onto the marble step and took his seat on the throne. His legs crossed and he rested his arms on two small arm rests. He smiled, his teeth pointed and gleaming from behind this long beard.

The Shah spoke in Persian, his voice hauntingly cold. Christine almost didn't expect it to be so smooth. Erik kept this head bowed before the king. His gloved hands left his pockets, forming into tight fists at his side. She studied his posture, trying to find any sign of uneasiness. Yet he remained calm and collected. It put her thoights at ease. If he wasn't worried, she didn't have to be either.

Abruptly, they stood. The guard stood behind the King, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Christine watched as Erik walked to the opposite column. He leaned against it, his eyes finding hers instantly. She gave him a weak smile but he barely moved to acknowledge her. Instead, his eyes glanced over to the King and back to hers. She followed his eyes.

The Shah was looking directly at her. His eyes were like a dark abyss, the line between his pupil and iris completely faded. The corner of his lips rose, though his smile felt all but heartwarming.

Christine quickly looked away, instead looking towards the door where she heard more footsteps. The crew gasped in unison as André and Firmin stumbled forward, each of them bound by their wrists and held by a guard. Nadir walked in front of them, giving the guards an order in Persian. The two managers were dragged forward and harshly pushed down at the Shah's feet.

"Ah, welcome my dear friends."

Christine tensed. He spoke french, though it was heavily accented. She watched as his spidery fingers and sharp nails stroked the top of Firmin's head. Firmin whimpered as the Shah gripped a handful of his locks, pulling his head upward.

"How considerate of you to bring your renowned opera to my kingdom. Bring forth the performers."

The crew stepped forward, all of them lining up before the king. Some bowed awkwardly, some stood terrified. Christine stood in the center, her fingers interlocking to stop them from trembling

"I see your journey has not been kind to you. How inconsiderate of you, Nadir. They look like they haven't sampled the luxuries of Persia in their stay."

"I apologize, my lord." He knelt in front of the Shah, his back to the crew.

The Shah tutted his tongue, his dark grin returning. "If they truly are some of the best in the world, we should reward them with our complete attention."

Christine felt a shiver creep down her spine. The last thing she wanted was his attention. She focused on her breathing, doing her best to still her heart. Yet his black eyes lingered.

Nadir stood, stepping to the side. "The Opera Populaire would be honoured to show you their shortened rendition of Hannibal, your excellency."

"I would be honoured to see it." He jeered. He tapped his talon-like nails against the armrest. "However, I must say..."

Christine's knees nearly buckled as the Shah stood. He walked in between the managers towards the crew. Christine held her own shaking hands, her downcast eyes looking at the shine in his polished black shoes that stopped directly in front of her. She swallowed her fear as she lifted her head to meet his. It felt as if the world had stopped and she stood petrified before Death himself. Her hand felt numb as he slivered his fingers around her palm, pulling her hand upward to his puckered lips. He kissed her knuckles, his black eyes locked on hers.

"I must say, you are like a diamond, mademoiselle. I have heard many rumours of your talents, Christine Daaé. Though these praises of your voice neglected to mention your exquisite beauty."

Christine felt her stomach twist at his words. Her lips parted to speak, but no words could escape. She tried to mutter a thank you, even make a noise of appreciation, but her vocal cords had sealed themselves shut.

"Tell me, my dear. Do you know how diamonds are crafted?"

Christine shook her head, perplexed by the random question. The Shah's lips pursed into a coy smile as he began to circle the group of prisoners before him. From the back of his cloak, he pulled forth a thin black tube. He pulled off the top, revealing a thin, rigid, whip. It was stained in black ink and he held it carefully in front of him.

"It's an arduous process." The Shah continued. "Diamonds are found deep within the earth, surrounded by useless stones that do nothing to support it. Slaves dig them up, shifting between the rubble and the precious gem. It takes a skilled eye to spot it, a very skilled eye indeed."

Suddenly, he took the whip and smacked Sophia across the face. The group gasped. Sophia's uninjured hand covered the small cut on her cheek as she released a choked sob at his sudden violence. She seemed more perplexed than hurt, though she began to tremble in her spot. Did he know she was the rat? Her eyes glanced over to Erik's for just a moment, but his eyes remained glued to the Shah. She couldn't interpret what she saw, though he stood still and unflinching. The Shah moved on as if nothing happened.

"From there, they are cleaned ferociously." He pointed his whip towards Ignacio and Carlotta, moving its end back and forth between the two of them as if unsure. "Quartz are often mistakenly picked in the caves, but when cleaned, their inaccuracies are clearly seen." He lifted his hand and whipped Ignacio's arm. He grunted, lifting his eyes up towards the Shah with a confused glare. Christine felt sick to her stomach. Uncertainty was often the most terrifying form of fear. What was he doing? The wounds didn't seem to harm them gravely, a mere scratch. Yet, each whip was intentional. What was their purpose?

"The brightest diamonds, regrettably, are the hardest to find. Its wardens are well aware of the toll of digging and preserving such a precious gem."

The Shah circled behind them. She felt the hairs of her neck stand on end as he drew closer. "The best diamonds are bathed in the blood of innocents. Maybe that is why they shine so brightly? The wardens have to scrub away all evidence of their apathetic negligence."

She shivered as he stood directly behind her, his chest hovering behind her back. The back of his finger brushed against her cheek as he peered around her shoulder. Christine shuddered as his icy breath tickled against her neck. She swallowed her fear as he gripped her chin, turning her face to meet his. "You, my dear, are the most beautiful diamond I have ever seen. Your wardens will earn you in blood."

Christine barely moved. His tight grip released her chin quite forcefully and he chuckled darkly as he returned to his throne. Christine trembled, her stomach flipping at his words. Who would earn her in blood? What did that mean?

Christine.

Her eyes snapped over to Erik's. He remained in the back corner, his hands behind his back. He hadn't moved at all. His voice was a gravelly whisper, but she could hear him perfectly.

"Only you can hear me. I will guide you. Don't worry about the Shah. He cannot hurt you. Not when I am here."

Christine nodded slightly. It was so easy to believe him, to fall back into that trusting role of master and student. As much as the Shah's words mortified her, his words stilled her raging nerves. She needed him to survive this, for them all to survive this.

Darius stepped forward, motioning them to return to the pillar Christine was the first to move, taking her place near the front of the group. The others followed numbly behind her.

"Are these all performers?" The Shah asked.

"All but one, the ballet instructor."

"Have her sit here with our friends." He gestured towards the barely alive managers. Madame Giry walked boldly forward, sitting in between the two managers. None of them dared to look at each other. The Shah tapped his whip on her shoulder, her eyes widening though her body refused to turn. "You must be proud of your students. I have heard they are the best in the world."

Fear: it was an emotion Christine was not used to seeing in her instructors eyes. She saw it now. "I am very proud of them all." Madame Giry whispered.

The Shah grinned. "Let's see if their performance is worthy of their reputation. I would hate to be disappointed." He rubbed the edge of the whip against her cheek, a thin black line trailing behind it.

"What is that whip?" Sophia quivered.

Gabriel shrugged, his eyes facing forward.

Christine took a deep breath. She had to ignore the Shah's unsettling behaviour and focus on the performance. The ballet took the stage first and Christine looked towards Meg. Meg seemed pale, the pain in her ankle and the Shah's attention to her mother clearly worrying her. If she could not perform well, it could affect her mother.

La Sorelli gave Meg an encouraging smile before turning to focus on the ballet. Ignacio and Sophia sat in front of them, becoming the imaginary edge of the stage. Christine tried to imagine it in her mind. The Shah was just a part of the crowd. The hall was just another theatre. Sophia trembled, her injured elbow resting on her bent knee. Her hand was swollen, but she was able to move her thumb and index finger. She could not play every note, but enough to get by. Her tears splashed against the dull metal of her flute as Ignacio counted them in.

"One, two. One, two, three."

Christine tensed, preparing for the worst. She prepared for a harsh squeak or scratch from the two instruments, but felt her shoulders relax. Sophia had already betrayed them. She could purposefully perform poorly, expecting the Shah to spare her from his wrath. Yet the older couple produced the most beautiful sound she could imagine. Christine noticed a few notes that Sophia did not play, but she played excellently. It bolstered her courage. She turned to Meg, grabbing her hand almost forcefully.

"Look at me in the eye, Meg." Christine whispered. "You can do this."

Meg looked taken aback, but nodded. "We can do this." She responded. The three ballerinas nodded, before stepping forwards. Christine felt herself take a deep breath along with them, watching as their shoulders rose and fell in front of her.

Go.

Christine watched in bated breath, noticing every forced smile and wince from her dear friend and the three ballerinas took the stage. Jammes's face looked mortified, but she seemingly glided across the stage majestically, Sorelli and Meg following suit. The three of them performed flawlessly, their bodies showing no sign of the negligence and suffering they had endured. Meg leapt just as high as Sorelli and Jammes, landing smoothly without hesitation.

Meg Giry was a woman of indomitable spirit. Nothing could stop her.

Piangi entered next, the second hurdle. He visibly shook during his performance, but one glance towards the furious eyes of the Angel of Death quickly motivated him. Christine never thought Piangi was a terrible singer, in fact, he could have earned his roles on his own abilities rather than with his wealth and influence. Now, those titles meant nothing

Breathe.

Christine realized she had been holding in her breath. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for just a moment.

She tried to control her nerves. Her father's violin rang in her mind. Before, it had haunted her, pushing her away from the nurturing music she was so accustomed to. Now she welcomed it. It was like fuel for a fire. So much had changed, preparing her for this moment. The Shah was more than just an enemy tyrant, but a symbol of her fear. She picked up the small sack prop piece. Long gone was the scared ballerina she knew before. Now was her time to stand in front of her fears and destroy them with the power of her voice.

She opened her eyes and looked towards her angel. Though he stood like the rest of the guards, tall and frozen against the backdrop, his eyes burned with something else. She could describe the emotions she felt when she looked at him. Fear, of course, from his violent re-introduction and menacing aura. Yet at the same time, she was drawn to him. He was gentle, but it was something else, something indescribable. It was an unusual tingling in her stomach she couldn't identify. Instead she gazed at his finely sculpted form as he nodded his head ever so slightly in her direction.

She stood, resolute and ready. She gestured the imaginary head her character held and stepped forward into the center.

Sing, my angel of music.

And so she did. She felt that welcoming rush of adrenaline as she sang. Her body naturally became the jealous queen. Her eyes barely saw the Shah and his company. Instead she was on the Populaire's stage, her voice finally echoing around her. Soon, the ballerinas joined her, singing alongside her. She glanced over at Meg, who beamed a congratulatory smile. For most of the performance, she smiled when she heard her angel's praise ring in her ear. Praises she had dreamed of for so long.

Perfect...Soften your voice on the next line...Yes, my angel...Lift your chin...You are dazzling.

She could do this. She could save them. Piangi seemed to be bolstered by her performance, his vibrato and pitch strengthening throughout the show. They sang their duets and solos with more determination than before, the fear of death abandoning them. At the end, they executed their fake kiss flawlessly.

The cast joined hands at the end of the performance. Christine could barely breathe. Her throat burned like a victory flame over the Colosseum. She looked at the smiles of her crew and felt the unfamiliar but desired warmth of hope. She glared evenly at the Shah, her courage consuming her. Together, they had given one of the best performances of their lifetime. They could have faltered, succumbed to the terror around them, but instead they persevered. The crew bowed triumphantly. Christine breathed heavy, her head high and a genuine smile on her lips. There was no way he would dislike their performance. It was impossible.

"Well done." He grinned, clapping his hands slowly.

Christine's smile fell. They had defeated him, hadn't they? They had clearly won. So why was his smile so ominous?

"I am a difficult man to please." He began. "But I must admit, never have I heard such perfection. For every mistake I found, I had decided to...punish one of you. But alas, I see no cause for violence."

Christine sighed with relief, tears stinging her eyes. It was as if she could finally breathe again. Her shoulder shook as she stared up to the ceiling. Was her father watching over her now? Could he see how brave she was for him? She had done it. She had saved them. The crew looked to each other, their relieved smiles matching the shock in their eyes. Jammes wrapped her arms around Christine, crying tears of joy.

Christine beamed at Erik. If it wasn't for him, she never would have found her voice again. His music, his determination, all of it brought her to this moment. Words could not describe how grateful she was. Yet, her smile faded at the intensity of his eyes. His jaw was clasped shut, the veins in his neck protruding. His warning gaze melted her joy.

The Shah leaned forward, grabbing onto André's ear and pulling him closer. "I will never understand why you were so quick to rid yourself of these titans. Do not think you will share their success. In fact, this only worsens the sting of your treachery."

The Shah kicked Madame Giry with his foot. She stumbled forward, landing on all fours. "You may join your students. You will not be punished for their perfect performance." Madame Giry barely waited for him to finish his sentence before she leapt into her daughter's arms.

"I am appalled that you were all treat so poorly. I must apologize for my negligence." His hand covered his heart as he bowed mockingly towards the crew. "As atonement, I can ensure you that those that hurt you will suffer greatly."

It was as if a boulder had dropped in her stomach. The iciness of his tone, the maliciousness of his grin, all mixed together and dashed her sense of triumph. Christine barely heard the scream that erupted from Sophia's lips. As the rest of the crew jumped around her, Christine's head slowly turned, terrified of what she would see.

Sophia lay collapsed on the marble floor, unresponsive and convulsing. Blood trickled out of her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head. Ignacio shook her shoulders to no avail, his cries echoing around the room.

"Help me! Someone-Some-ugh!"

La Sorelli grabbed onto Christine's shoulder as Ignacio collapsed next to his wife, the three ballerinas releasing shocked cries of fear. "What is happening?" Sorelli cried.

"Paralysis, I assume." The Shah answered from his throne. He sat calmly, his legs crossed. "I am afraid it is terribly painful. The only fitting death for a bunch of rats, don't you think?"

He knew. His knowing smile nearly crumbled her to her knees. Gabriel, Louis, and Jammes ran to the older couple's side. Christine could hear them trying to save them, but she could not escape from the Shah's glare. Her eyes stared into his, two black holes that sucked away her courage.

The Shah grinned at her, unfazed by the sudden hysteria. He nonchalantly tapped the whip on Firmin's shoulder, who shook with fear. His hands were clasped together as if he was praying for salvation.

"Have you ever heard of the black mamba?" He asked coolly.

Christine somehow found the ability to shake her head, though the rest of her body remained rigid. The Shah continued. "The whip was a gift from a friend in northern Africa. He is known as the Black King, not because he is African, but because he owns a dangerous collection of the most poisonous snakes in the world: the Black Mamba."

Christine's heart dropped. The black ink that trickled down Madame Giry's neck was the solution that paralyzed the musicians. She turned and stared at her instructor. Madame Giry tepidly rubbed away the poison from her cheek, feeling around for any cut that could let it seep into her veins. Meg cried with relief as she stroked her clean cheek. Yet her cries of relief were muffled by Ignacio's cries of pain.

Sophia and Ignacio were poisoned.

"Is there an antidote?" Ignacio wheezed. Christine could only stare in horror as the man crawled in front of them. Ignacio's eyes almost bulged out of his skull, wide and petrified. His body was stiff, as if every muscle had cramped into place. Sharp grunts of pain echoed off his tongue as he reached towards the king. His mouth unhinged as if he was trying to scream.

The Shah laughed, his sinister chuckle destroying all remnants of courage in Christine's heart. Ignacio let out a cry as he fell backwards, landing in front of Christine. He gripped onto the hem of her dress.

"Pl-pl-ea-"

Christine didn't know what to do. She collapsed, grabbing onto Ignacio as he convulsed before her. Sorelli and Piangi dropped to her side, the three of them crying his name and begging him to breathe. Meg cried while futilely attempting to unhinge his jaw, which had now sealed shut. Carlotta neared the women, collapsing to the ground in tears.

It was madness. It was spinning madness. Christine felt as though she could barely breathe, barely see the horrors before her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the toying sneer of the King of Persia.

It had been so long since she felt like this, since she had been enveloped in so much darkness that it hurt to breath. She trembled uncontrollably, her hands fumbling at Ignacio's sleeve. It was her responsibility to save them. Why couldn't she? Why did someone always have to get hurt?

Christine stood shakily. "Please, your highness. Is there a cure?"

"A cure? No. But there is an antivenom." The Shah held up a small vial from his jacket. He waved it in front of her, beckoning her to come closer. She hesitantly stepped closer, ignoring the point of his teeth as he smiled. "Is this just too much blood for you, my sweet diamond?"

Christine wasn't sure if she nodded or if her head just shook violently. "Please." She cried. Christine reached out for it, but the Shah pulled it back from her. He laughed.

"And why should I give it to you?"

"Please. Please let me save him." Christine begged. She collapsed on her knees in front of him, her hands clasping together.

"I thought he and his wife were the rats of your squadron. He sent you here to your death. Doesn't he deserve to die?"

"No. No." Christine cried. "He deserves to live. They both do. They were desperate. Please show mercy!"

The Shah's long fingers cupped her chin, his nails digging into the soft flesh of her cheeks. He leaned forward, pulling her close. "Beg." He snarled.

"Please. Please save them."

"And what will you pay for such a merciful act?"

Christine didn't hesitate. "Anything. Please. Anything!"

The Shah smiled, almost victoriously."You'll have to do better than that."

It was as if he appeared out of nowhere. The Shah's hand was ripped from her face, a dark shadow crossing in front of her. Christine gasped as a gloved hand pulled her from the marble step, forcing her to stand behind him. The sweet scent of spices overtook her as she recognized her saviour instantly.

Erik stood before her. He leapt forward, expertly ripping the vial out of the King's hand. Christine's eyes widened. How had he taken it so quickly? Erik stepped past her, her eyes following him. He pulled a needle from his pocket, placing the vial in a small contraption attached to it. First he ran to Sophia, injecting her with half the serum before giving the rest to her husband. Christine stumbled to his side, collapsing on her knees next to him as he knelt next to Ignacio.

"Can you-Erik please tell me." She begged before he hushed her, wrapping an arm around her back. She had done everything she could to save her friends. To be so close to the taste of victory and have it ripped from her broke apart her heart. But he was here, his presence soothing her from the pain. She buried her head in his shoulder, turning to look at Ignacio. He gently hushed her, breathing into her curls.

She watched Ignacio, begging him to live. His limbs were contorted into strange positions, his gasps ragged and loud. She gripped onto Erik, who gently brushed her hands away as he stood. He faced his King boldly.

The Shah's eyes blackened, his horrific glare causing Christine to quiver. He sat straight, his mouth open in a furious snarl. Never had she seen anything so...evil. If Erik didn't stand next to her, she was certain she would flee.

Yet, she barely had time to process what had happened as Erik pulled her to her feet, hiding the vehement glare of the King with his shoulder. She turned back to Ignacio, who wheezed loudly. Why wasn't he healing? Why was he still choking? Meg burst into tears as Ignacio's hands lost their grip and collapsed on the floor.

"Christine?"

His voice was merely a whisper to her. Ignacio's limp form clouded her vision, her slow heart beat deafening her to all other sounds. Only a few moments ago he was playing the violin. Now he lay motionless before her. It was too late. Nothing she could have done would save him. It was all her fault. This was all her fault!

"Christine. Look at me. Christine, this isn't your fault."

What had she done? She performed well, didn't she? She began to hyperventilate. Why did she give up music? Was this her punishment for neglecting her God given gift? Was this her punishment for-

Her head whip-lashed as Erik dragged her away from the crew. Her back pressed into the cool marble of the side pillars. She gripped at Erik's forearms to steady herself from collapsing as the world around her spun.

"Look at me." He repeated, but her eyes drifted back to the crying cast and crew. They all huddled around Ignacio and Sophia, trying everything they could to save them. The managers remained seated near the Shah's feet, both of them unable to look at the horror they had caused.

But it wasn't their fault, Christine reminded herself. She had so foolishly believed she could save them. How naive! How weak!

"So-Sophia."

Christine's head snapped up. Ignacio lay still, his eyes open. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath. "Sophia, my love."

Meg released a cry of relief as she hugged Ignacio, his weak arms unable to return to favour.

"She is breathing. She-She is alive!" Louis cried, his ear over Sophia's mouth. Christine's knees buckled, two strong arms wrapping around her to support her. The damn had burst. Despite the Shah's plans, despite her own fears, they were all alive.

They're alive. You did it. You saved them. Her mind rang victorious though her body crumbled. She cried against his chest. Erik brushed her hair, soothing her gently.

"Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light."

As her angel gently hummed his song in her ear, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. His hands rose against the column as he held his cloak up to shield her from the world around her. It enveloped her in a warm darkness, a place of security.

"And listen to the music of the night."

"Guards!" The Shah bellowed. "Take them out of my sight. Now!"

Christine barely heard the cries of her friends as they were dragged away. Madame Giry yelled her for her daughter, but Christine could only hear her angel's soft tune. She looked up at him.

"Erik...will they be alright?"

He nodded. "Trust me?"

She nodded. "Always."

Though they were back in the dungeon, her friends were alive. She placed her hand over her heart to still it. She had to remind herself that though her situation seemed bleak, they were able to defeat the Shah in this battle. She knew that if they kept their strength up, they could win this war.

"Hiding something, dear angel?" The Shah hissed, Erik lowered his cape, stepping closer to the Shah.

"I apologise for my actions-"

"You will say nothing! I do not wish to listen to your lies." The Shah spat. He stood, striding over to Erik with a long finger pointed at him. Christine automatically huddled closer to Erik, hiding behind his shoulder. Erik barely moved. He barely finched when the Shah's guard unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him.

"Let me kill him for his actions." The guard spoke. Christine gripped his arm, but Erik chuckled.

"Yes, my lord. Let him try." Erik goaded.

"Enough! Hakeem, withdraw your sword."

Hakeem snarled, glaring at Erik as he stepped away. Christine shivered at the maliciousness of his eyes. She knew that Erik was a skilled fighter, but this man was a foot taller and nearly a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. Why would Erik be so quick to entice a fight with him?

"How dare you." The Shah shook his head. The dark humour of his tone had dissipated, replacing itself with a poisonous hiss.

Erik didn't respond.

The Shah stepped closer. "You will be punished for your actions. As much as I understand your need to impress this diamond you have found, you will learn that she is mine."

Christine felt Erik's arm tense. She shivered as the Shah glanced at her for just a moment before returning back to Erik's. "Take her to the harem with the rest of her pretty friends. I don't have time to deal with your incompetence now. But mark my words, Angel, you will regret your overstep."

"I'm sorry-"

"Silence! You aren't sorry now, but you will be."

Erik's jaw clamped shut, his eyes widening. If Christine wasn't touching him, she wouldn't know that he was shaking. Abruptly he turned, pulling Christine alongside him. As they left the hall, Christine dared to glance back at the Shah. He had returned to his throne, his legs crossed as he glared at them.

She shivered as an unnerving grin reappeared on his lips. He mouthed his words to her, ensuring it was only her who heard.

"I'll see you soon."

Hopefully this chapter wasn't too convoluted and sad. They all survived! Yey? I would love thoughts and reviews!

PhantomGirl: This performance definitely wasn't flawless, but hopefully you would consider that his went well? There will be a lot more of Erik and Christine interactions in the next chapters. Thanks for your review! Glad you enjoyed the last two chapters!

Lucyole: Raoul and Phillipe will be showing up soon, but I cannot exactly say when. Sophia definitely has motivation behind her betrayal, but it isn't entirely out of hatred. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!