It shifted just above their head. A strange, oblong shape, with sharp ends. It's familiar, but they could barely see … they crept forward, letting their vision clear. The word hit them right as the surface of the water was broken by two oars. It's a boat. It's his boat! But that movement… so automated and short. Almost like the navigator had never been in these waters. But he knew them by memory. It only took a moment for them to realize there was an issue.

They broke the surface tension and shifted over, risking total exposure just for a risk of a glance at this stranger. The lighting just barely made golden hair visible, with a shimmer of silver. An intruder! His face turned, and sure enough they did not recognize his face. But that expression they knew. The aura of determination is strong, along with a deeper, simmering gleam. The boiling anger under the surface. They snapped back and forth between the man and the distant shine of the hidden gem of the lake. And if… if he were to be harmed. Oh, but were was he? He doesn't know. Their stomach flipped, and their heart started to race. If he did, this intruder would have already died, vanished. No, they had to keep him back. Had to protect him. This intruder could not go any further!

Something darted violently through the water, almost overturning Comte Philippe de Chagny.

The echo of his cries rang out as he searched the waters around him. This is a cavern, underground, he swallowed the lump in his throat. There was no access to this lake from any outside source, but… he let out a breath… he lets out a breath. Fish. There must be fish in this lake. Albeit, he glanced back down, the only thing that met his eyes was his own haggard face, rather large ones. But nonetheless, just fish. He cracked his back, chiding himself under his breath.

"Must not let paranoia get the best of us, old man. There are more important things." He continued his journey to the fabled house across the lake. To chase after his insane little brother, and to stop whoever the Hell this "Erik" is! Only then would he leave Paris and all this nonsense behind him, maybe settle down.

The minutes felts like hours, and he started to pant. The air around him collided with the sweat dripping down his back, sending painful shivers up his spine. Philippe's eyes narrowed, latching on to the only light in this godforsaken cave that wasn't starting to fade. He stopped, let himself breathe, and looked around. There were torches along the cave wall, only adequately illuminating a walkway – and almost nothing for him. Then he realized, with a soft whine, that he would not need them anyway. He could see it. A house, decently sized, just a dozen or so meters away.

"I can do this…" He told himself, straightening his posture, and set back to his rowing.

His blood solidified when the voice met his ears. Reverberating, almost like it was coming from the water itself. Soft, lilting, surrounding him like a dense fog. He blinked, but his vision wouldn't clear, his thoughts stayed jumbled. Slowly, unsure of his motions, he set the oars down and reached for the pistol tucked away in his waistcoat. But he didn't take it. Instead, his eyes locked in on something impossible moving in the water. Long, serpentine, almost gliding at a distance from his rowboat.

"What in the world…" His body trembled as he realized just where the song was coming from. It moved with the shape in the water. It spun, like it was dancing, under the glass of the clear water. Then a shine. Two pinpoints of light watched him from God only knows how far below the surface. But that was quite right. Refraction? But that…that would mean… Philippe couldn't decide what was more horrifying in that moment; being so far away from the creature its eyes are just pricks of light in the darkness. Or the fact that it was approaching him, and gaining features.

Why does it look so human? It seemed within arm's reach of him, just barely longer than the average man. Through his anxiety ridden eyes, it seemed like a woman was staring at him, gossamer white hair haloing a soft, yet angular face. Eyes locked in on him, examining. He reasoned that it wasn't a threat after all.

Then it moved, slowly getting closer and closer to him until he came to the realization that it was nearly twice his height, if not longer…its beautiful voice became deeply threatening to him. The humanoid face from under the water, an impossibility he was not ready to face. Then it vanished, its voice coming from everywhere. So rich, so sweet. He could have sworn that it was coming from close by. With the lips brushing his ear, inside his boat. A chill rushed his spine.

Behind him.

"No!" He turned swiftly, the boat rocking from his sudden motion, almost taking him over. But there was nothing, and around him there is no sign of the swimming creature. And yet, the song continues to pound at his ears, tearing into his soul. Luring him into the cold abyss below. His chest tightened, his breathing becoming heaves of anxiety and fear. In a move he would regret, Philippe tightened his grip on the oars and forged his way closer to the house on the lake. …was it always so far away?

The water behind him broke, continually, almost to the beat of his erratic heart. The voice, which had surrounded him, was now in hot pursuit. Stabbing his back with a height and an edge that made his eyes water and his ears throb with pain. He could no longer see the house on the lake, just his feet blurred through tears. If he weren't covering his ears with his hands, he would swear he felt blood pouring out of them. Not possible… not possible.

"For the love of God," he begged, "leave me be!"

The only reply to his cries was deafening silence. He clasped his hands at his chest, feeling the violent pounding of his heart against his ribs. The water was still for the first time all night. For a moment, he feels completely alone. Feels safe.

A soft touch ran up the back of his shirt. He recognized the shape – a hand, too long to be human. The scream clung to his throat, for his mouth was sewn shut by acceptance. The touch is gentle, but far from comforting. Icy water soaked into his shirt, merging with the sweat on his back. The hand slid up to his shoulder, squeezed. Before he could beg for his life, he was torn backwards.

Philippe forced his eyes shut, the water of the lake completely swallowing him, stopping his breath. Arms, think and cold, embraced him from behind, forcing him against a hard chest. Preventing him from going to the surface. Sealing his fate. Trickles through his nose became mouthfuls of water, and then a lungful. Slimy, foul water that coats his inside like plaster, causing his chest to radiate in sharp pains. His last moments of consciousness, he's freed. The creature turned him, letting their eyes meet one last time.

They watched closely, not sure just how long this will take, and see the light fade from the late Philippe de Chagny's eyes.