Guybrush slipped out of the bed into early morning chill, trying not to wince as his bare feet came into contact with a cold stone floor. Still in the warm security of the blankets, Elaine murmured something and proceeded to steal the covers he had just vacated. He envied her fiercely for half a second, then sighed stoically, grabbed his robe, and began working on a fire.
The mansion was echoingly empty this time of morning, when the light was still gray and the birdsongs were the loudest sounds on the air. He built up the fire to a comfortable blaze, then made a quick run to the other side of the room (through a region of progressively colder air) to the chest of drawers. He seized a pair of his usual gray short pants, a loose-sleeved shirt, and a few other essentials, then back to the fire to dress as quickly as absolutely possible. Two stockings, one boot....where was the other one? Oh, there.... A belt. He took his blue pirate coat down from a hook in the back of his closet, shaking it slightly in a vain attempt to dislodge the wrinkles. Feeling a little more prepared to face the day (if not much warmer) he found a candle and vanished down to the kitchen.
He was up before even the servants today, so he had to build a second fire in the big iron cookstove before he could heat some water for the morning cup of tea. Food supplies were unusually scanty, but he managed to find a small loaf of bread, slice and butter it, and carry the whole arrangement upstairs on a tray. The familiarity of the morning routine had the paradoxical effect of clearing out his mind yet occupying most of his thoughts, with the result that he was very deep in musing by the time he finished his own breakfast and left the rest near the fire for Elaine to find.
He parted the curtains a crack, slipped through, opened the balcony doors, and stepped outside to see the sunrise--and there, on the balcony rail, was a green parrot.
He recoiled instinctively. "You again. What do you want this time?"
The bird blinked at him, innocently...and he saw that she had no message on her leg. Now what was she doing here if not--?
"Bwaaaaaack! Gone! Gone gone gone gone!" The horrible wailing croak of a voice just barely preceded its owner, as a red parrot at full speed swooped over the balcony. Elijah was as distraught as Guybrush had ever seen him.
Elijah?
Before any more thoughts could register, the bird cannoned into him, wings spread wide at he landed. They fell over his shoulders in an odd sort of bird-embrace. He made no attempt to cling with his feet--Guybrush had to wrap his arms around him to keep him from falling to the ground.
"Gone," the parrot wailed in his ear. "She gone! Gone gone gone gone!"
She. Parrot. Chariset.
Odia.
The memory he had been holding off all morning came flooding back. "She's gone," he agreed, stroking the bird's brilliant dorsal feathers. He'd never thought he'd ever hug a parrot, but poor Elijah sounded completely heartbroken. "We're going to get them all back," he added, wondering how much the bird could understand.
He not only understood, he perked up instantly. His black bead eyes fixed on the (ex?) pirate's face. "You promise?"
Guybrush would have laughed, but Elijah was completely serious. He set the parrot down on the balcony rail, placed one hand over his heart, and recited, "I swear that I will rescue my family or die trying." He dropped the hand and rocked his head to one side. "And that includes the girl you seem to be in love with."
"Not funny Brush," Elijah replied huffily. The glowing collar of braided hair on his chest was evidence that Chariset had been busy indeed--probably the reason he had found Guybrush in the first place.
He knelt down until he was at the parrot's eye-level. "I'm serious, Elijah. Big Whoop finally stole the wrong person for his little collection. Last time we underestimated him, but this time I think he underestimated us."
"I help," promised the scarlet parrot. Farther down the wall, Polly whistled agreement.
"Good. I think we'll need you," replied Guybrush, straightening up. He ducked through the curtain again to wake Elaine up, both parrots flying in behind him. They had a long day ahead of them.
A wind was rising in the land of the dead. Chariset shivered at the unfamiliar sensation of moving air at the back of her neck--her hair was the shortest it had ever been. But everyone she cared about in the land of the living was safe, at least for now. She hoped none of the sailors would take a dislike to the glowing circle of her hair and remove it. Big Whoop might still have enough power to take over the others through him and take everyone back to the island.
The wind picked up, howling through the branches of the illuminated willows. She had been watching Guybrush and Elaine paying a visit to the Plunder Island cannibals, but the 'weather,' such as it was, was catching her attention. If this land had ever followed normal weather patterns, she would have sworn it was about to storm.
She broke the image and slipped through the glade and into the woods. She would see what was going on, then return.
The light from the sun was vanishing as she reached the edge of the trees, and the wind had increased to something close to a gale. More than that, the spirits were looking nervously at a sky which was actually clouding over. They gathered together in small clusters and peered upward with puzzled and prophetic frowns.
In one of the nearest clumps was Grethelle, shivering nervously and looking pale (paler than normal). Her lips were very dark against her skin, eyes wide with fear.
"Gret, what's wrong?" Chariset had to shout to be heard over the wind.
"It's...!" Gret's voice was fading in and out. "..coming. He's coming!"
There was only one he in this land. "Big Whoop?! Why would he be coming here?"
"He comes when somebody breaks a law!" yelled another member of the group. "But the last time was almost a hundred years ago."
"What did he do to the person who broke the law?" Chariset yelled back.
"He blew him to pieces!"
"There wasn't...of him left," added Gret. "H-..just vanished!"
Oh, this was lovely. Chariset broke away from the group and headed for the courtyard, which was already filling with nervous Threepwoods. She drew a little apart and stood alone--if she was to be punished for intervening in the lives of those still alive, she wanted to spare as much of her family as possible.
The wind increased to an almost unbearable level over the huddled mass of her family. She was having difficulty keeping herself together--literally--as wisps of her substance tried to break loose and fly away. It took all of Agnus' training to compact herself into something harder than rock and remain whole.
With no warning at all, the wind stilled. The gigantic lava-beast which was Big Whoop strode forward out of a pocket of air into a hushed and expectant silence to greet his captive audience. The ones closest to him shrank back. He eyed them without a word for a second or two, no one brave enough to break the silence before he did.
"I suppose you all know why I'm here," he began eventually, as casually as a lecturer discussing his most familiar subject. "I'm here because one among us does not know her place." The male Threepwoods relaxed, the females tensed. "And we all know what happens to those who don't know their places...don't we, Ms. Chariset?" Big Whoop eyed her like a cat eyes a mouse, waiting for a reaction.
Her family cringed away from her as though she carried a lethal disease as she moved through the crowd to confront the monster alone. This is the same mind which motivated LeChuck, she told herself. And you know how to handle LeChuck.
"It seems that quite a lot of us are out of place, Mr. Whoop," she began slowly. "In fact, there are some who would argue that only one of us here is in his place."
He pretended not to understand. "And just who would that be, pray tell?"
"Let's stop beating around the bush, shall we? We don't belong here. We don't belong to you. If we did, then maybe your rules would actually be binding."
He looked annoyed but not angry enough to squish her. Yet. "So you admit it?"
"I admit to doing anything I need to to get out of here and save my family," she answered, eyes narrowed.
"And yet you know that I have a little agreement with your family. You keep your end, and I keep mine. But you knew the terms and you still broke them."
A little what with my family? "Who made this agreement?"
"Why, your very own forefather, Agnus Traaephood. To save his wife and children from coming here, he made a bargain with me. But he broke faith, just like you did--and so they came to me anyhow. Just like the rest of the family. Now you all belong to me."
She shot a questioning glance at Agnus, who nodded once, ashamed to meet her eyes. For the first time, she began to wonder whether the law really was on their side...
"You see?" hissed Big Whoop, smelling blood. "This is legal. Binding. Completely unbreakable. This contract only breaks at one end--mine."
"That agreement was made under duress!" Chariset objected, but she knew it was a lost cause. "What good is justice when you set out all the terms and bounds?"
Big Whoop sneered at her. "I grow tired of your ranting about justice, lawbreaker. I see there is a statue of Athena in your temple--go plead your case to her if you want justice."
He pointed a finger at her. There was a jolt, a moment of disorientation, and she found herself inside the column-walls of her temple.
"I'm placing you under house-arrest," Big Whoop thundered. "You can cool your heels for a while until I'm ready to sentence you."
Chariset ran to the edge of the floor--and was halted. The vast expanse of air between the thick columns was exactly as impermeable as water wasn't. The stone pillars might as well have been bars. She listened helplessly as the lava-monster turned his attention on her family.
"And as for the rest of you, this is your penalty for letting a lawbreaker run loose. Until you have convinced me that you are willing to abide by the rules, your viewing pool in the forest will be dried up." A strange sinking feeling in her gut told Chariset that this part of the sentence was just now being carried out. Several in the crowd moaned.
"Stop your whining--I haven't done a thing to you. Yet." Chariset couldn't see the courtyard, but she was certain it was a particularly grim sort of stand-off, like a cat cornering a group of mice in an inescapable area.
"You have grown too comfortable," he went on. "Too safe in your own little world. You must never forget that I own you."
He paused, and she felt her hands close into fists at his cold cruelty. "Perhaps it is not your fault. I have not reminded you as often as I should have. I sat back and let influences like that girl infect you. The fault is mine...I apologize. Nevertheless, perhaps I should remind you again, right now..."
The world turned dark in the flash of an eye--and then the screams began.
Out of the center of the courtyard, a twisting, snaking column of white rose up to meet a similar column coming down. It resembled a waterspout, only darker and far, far more sinister, because its howling winds devoured not debris but souls.
From the edges of the courtyard, bits and pieces of glowing spirit-substance were flying up, dragged away from their sources by sheer force. Chariset thought she saw one of Grethelle's wings, or a giant hand-shape which might have come from Agnus, or one of Elise's fancy hats, all dragged into the maelstrom.
The devil winds even pulled on her, tugging at her clothing and hair....she didn't want to think about how it must be at the center of the storm. I did this, she thought. I brought this down on them. More and more spirit-matter poured into the center of the twisting winds, while she looked on, unable to interfere.
Wait...there in the center...is that...?
There was another soul in the center of the funnel--and it was to this soul that all the stolen substance was flying. Even now it was accumulating around this tiny wisp of soul, half-hidden in the swirling spirit-tornado, forming and taking new shape as...a woman?
Then she realized. That's the soul of Guybrush's daughter. He's stealing from us to age her prematurely, so he can send her after him!
And Big Whoop had unwisely set her outside the impact area so that she alone could clearly see what he was doing. Big Mistake #2, Mr. Whoop. This one will be your undoing.
After what seemed like ages, the sky shuddered, stilled....and finally the storm broke, revealing the familiar black sun. It was over.
The funnel had retreated into the 'sky,' leaving the moaning survivors to gather themselves together and try to recover. Big Whoop had long since vanished, and so they had some privacy as they slunk, whipped and beaten, back to their respective homes. Some had to pass her temple, and she recoiled at the looks of blank rage or hatred they sent her. Perhaps Big Whoop was even more cunning than she had suspected, to gift her with information she could never share.
Her entire family, every member but herself, had suffered some rather major damage thanks to Big Whoop's tornado. Gret passed, and Chariset drew in a hissing breath when she saw that both of her beautiful wings had been torn off. Agnus lumbered in the other direction, a mutilated shadow of his former self. When he finally reformed into a human shape, he would be half his usual gigantic size. Big Whoop was so incredibly cruel.
"...next time, hope she's in the center of it.." muttered a voice. She would have turned around to see the speaker, but it seemed to be a sentiment echoed by almost all.
Chariset sighed. She'd picked a fine time to make herself unpopular.
"It comes to this," Elaine concluded. "We'll have to split up into two groups...one to go to Monkey Island and meet the spirit of the island with me, and one to go with Guybrush to put together a resurrection spell. We'll meet at Dinky Island and then storm Big Whoop's fortress, hopefully taking the monster by surprise. If we're extremely lucky, all his magic will be gone, so all we'll have to do is clean up."
She was addressing a rather subdued gathering in the fort's meeting room. Of the party who had escaped from Monkey Island, only Guybrush was absent, discussing his options with the Necromancer. Hollander C. Feed and her brother Wally, Murray, Nic and the Seahorse's crew, Horace and a rather depressed Largo, and the two parrots. Polly seemed to like Horace, to the latter's mild surprise.
The Barbery Coast trio were also in attendance, tired of long months of inaction and wanting some adventure. Lemonhead was present as delegate for the cannibals, and the Voodoo Priestess had made a special visit to keep an eye on things, though she would not be going with them.
The only remaining matter was to divide the members into two groups, one to go to the Monkey Shrine on Monkey Island (they would leave immediately aboard the Seahorse) and one to wait until Guybrush determined what needed to be done to save the imprisoned Threepwoods and revive them.
Elaine did a quick poll of the sailors, about half of which elected to come along with her, including Nic, Chariset's navigator. Guybrush had given him a copy of the spell needed to transport a ship instantaneously to the Island, which the Voodoo Lady had revised so that it was easier on the passengers. In fact, with some slight modifications, it could transport a ship to any given island, though the priestess warned that this was not absolutely safe, and that they should proceed with extreme caution.
The Barbery barbers were a set and preferred to stay together--they voted unanimously to either go with Guybrush or remain on the island in case of emergency. Holly and Wally, with some reluctance, decided to split up, Holly going along with Elaine, Wally remaining to help with the spell. Horace also chose to stay behind, but Largo surprised everyone by voting to go back to Monkey Island.
"I don't like it," he admitted. "I've never liked Guybrush for making a fool out of me, and I don't like his sister much, either. But she did save my life when anyone else would have just left me, so I feel like I owe them something."
Elijah chose that moment to leap onto his shoulder and bwaaaaaaack in a particularly adorable fashion, causing the homely little man to blush and mutter a disclaimer. The entire table laughed, not unkindly, which only deepened the hue. Largo might not exactly have been reformed, but at least there was progress, Elaine reflected.
Lemonhead was going along as a matter of course. That raised the total number going to the island to around seven or eight, depending on what a final wavering sailor decided.
"Any larger and we'll be too obvious," Elaine decided. "We'll finish loading tonight and sail on the evening tide. Better go pack."
The chosen members departed, leaving the room in quiet for a heartbeat or so. Guybrush (with admirable timing) chose that moment to reenter, accompanied by the great wizard, the Necromancer.
"I have the usual good news and bad news," the Necromancer began. "The good news is that the situation isn't as bad as we'd originally thought. The Threepwood ancestors aren't precisely dead, so they won't need to be resurrected."
That brought surprised looks from all around the table. "No?" queried Elaine for all of them.
"No. Their bodies are still alive, if frozen. What we will need is a spell to reunite their souls with their physical forms, which can only happen once they are freed of the ice crystals which Guybrush described. In essence, we will need a Spell of Undoing, similar to the one that my Amulet casts."
"But the Amulet is buried with Chariset," Guybrush took up the narrative. "So we'll need another spell, one closely connected with the caster."
"Namely, Big Whoop."
"So...what's the bad news?" asked Horace after a brief pause.
"The bad news is that we have to link the spell to Big Whoop somehow," replied Guybrush.
"This is going to be more dangerous than you're letting on." Elaine knew by now when her husband was leaving something unsaid.
The Voodoo Lady spoke up for the first time that evening. "You will need something like a voodoo doll of Big Whoop in order to make this spell work."
Most of the table gasped. "You mean...something of the Head, something of the Thread..that sort of thing?" Elaine shook her head. "That's impossible. He's made of lava."
"This isn't as complicated as a voodoo doll," Guybrush reassured her. "All we need is a piece of Big Whoop's substance."
"Which brings us back to the same problem," she retorted. "Even assuming you can get close enough, you'll never be able to seize part of him and get away with it."
Horace cleared his throat nervously. "I might know a way."
Every eye in the room fixed on him. "How?" asked the Necromancer gently.
"Big Whoop has little spies he sends out, things I call Little Whoops," the man fumbled out. "They're made from the same stuff he is."
Haggis was trying to follow the conversation. "Little....drops of lava?"
"Yeah. They look just like him, but they're tiny."
Elaine remained skeptical. "So they're tiny. They're still too hot to carry."
Horace was clearly thinking hard. "But I saw one turn into stone once....on....Crescent Island."
The four people who knew the area best--the Barbery Coast pirates and Elaine--exchanged glances. "That island is a deathtrap," said Edward van Helgen carefully.
"Besides, stone is dead substance....it needs to be living lava for the spell to work," added the Necromancer. "Sorry, Horace."
Chariset's former crewman and General LeChuck's former Captain started to reply, then froze in place, in hot pursuit of some distant memory. The table waited respectfully.
"When I was under Monkey Island...Big Whoop said....what did he say...he said that he had Little Whoops all over the Caribbean.." Horace let the words dribble out of his mouth, clearly thinking out loud. "And at least two of them were in the Blood Island volcano."
"Why would Big Whoop have spies in Mt. Acidophilous?" Guybrush was clearly puzzled.
"He said....he said he was going to make the volcano erupt and destroy the island."
It was Guybrush and Elaine's turn to lock eyes. "That would be the moment to do it," remarked the Necromancer with surprising equanimity. "The heat of the volcano would increase the speed of the reaction, once we threw the ingredients in."
"But what about the island? What about the Goodsoups?" Guybrush sounded concerned, and with good reason. They were something of a second family to him.
"We'll just have to evacuate them," the Voodoo Lady said, tone matter-of-fact, which signified to Elaine that she had already foreseen the destruction of Blood Island.
"Can you take care of that?" she asked.
"Just get the Sea Cucumber over there within the week--which shouldn't be difficult with the maps I will give you--and all will be well."
"What ingredients will you need for the spell?"
"I have a list," replied Guybrush. "We'll have to run all over the place to get the ingredients, but we should be able to do it in a week."
"Will we know when it's done?" This was a mission that depended critically upon timing--even if they could move ships near-instantly around the sea, they would still lose critical minutes getting into shore.
The Necromancer grinned. "You'll know. Your little parrot friends have volunteered to run messages." Guybrush held out his wrist for Polly, who helpfully hopped up onto it. Upon her magical collar of hair she wore a special stone of a reddish-blue color.
He had another stone on a clasp for her own necklet. Guybrush already carried one on the strange, thin white cord he had taken to wearing under his shirt. "These stones are anchor-points of sorts. If Guybrush sends Elijah to you with a message, he will come immediately to the other stone. And it won't harm the birds."
"Then I guess we're ready," Elaine almost sighed. "I just can't shake the feeling that we're forgetting something."
"Chariset. How does she fit into this?"
"She doesn't," the priestess did sigh. "You're on your own from here on out."
Elaine realized that part of what was nagging at her was the fact that she and her husband would have to split up...again...to accomplish this task and make it safe for their daughter to be born.
Which reminded her...
"What about our daughter's soul? Will destroying Big Whoop's power bring her back?"
"I would assume so," the priestess replied. "But not even the future is certain at this point. Too many things are possible which could create entirely new futures."
"Such as?"
The Voodoo Lady didn't answer. Elaine sighed in disgust. "Why can't you ever be more specific?"
"I am bound by rules, the same as you are. But the odds are better that you will be successful than that you won't." She looked at Guybrush and Elaine with compassion. "I would like to tell you your futures, but if you knew, you would worry."
She turned dark eyes on Elaine. "What happened to the young governor who told me flat-out 'Don't ever tell me what's going to happen'?"
Elaine sighed facially. "That young governor wasn't worrying day and night about whether her baby girl was dead."
"You've got a couple hours until the evening tide--why don't you and Guybrush spend some time together? It may be a while before the next time. And while you're gone, I can see how many of these spell ingredients I already have on hand."
It was a good plan, and Guybrush was already out the door. Elaine supposed a last walk in the garden would do her some good...
Once the red-haired woman was out of the room and the remainder of the party dispersed, the priestess heaved a sigh so deep it seemed to come from her very soul. She leaned on her braced elbow, looking worn and very, very old.
"How much of that was bluff, Meren?" asked the Necromancer softly.
"Almost all of it," she sighed, not looking up. "I don't see any good ending to this..not one."
He rested an arm on her shoulder, and she hid her eyes in it. "I've just sent the most deserving young couple I know off to be killed by their own daughter. May God have mercy on my soul....."
"They've beaten worse odds," he offered.
"Those times, they faced enemies they could kill. This time, they have to fight their own flesh and blood. There's just no way to win."
"I have faith in them, Meren-na. They remind me a lot of you and I, when we were younger."
She looked up sharply. "That was decades ago!"
"And if it hadn't been for the Foremaster and Foremistress of the Voodoo Academy, we'd both be dead now."
"Several times over." But she was close to smiling.
He suddenly became quiet and serious. "If we stop now, we're betraying them just as surely as if we killed them ourselves. I have faith in the young spirit-woman who in life once stormed my fortress with nothing but a sword and a talking skull. I have faith in the most stubborn Governor on record. And I have faith in this pirate-lad you like so much. Given half a chance, there's nothing they can't do...you've got to make yourself believe that."
She didn't answer. "And besides, if it hadn't been for them, we'd never have gotten back together."
"You almost make it sound like we owe them something."
"Don't we?" His lined face held open appeal. "I've always thought we did. Was I wrong?"
She read the question in his eyes, the other one. And she answered with her own, simply.
"Yes."
"No imposters, la."
"That's it?? That's all he agreed to?"
"If he impersonates any one of us, he's broken his agreement. But he's never broken his word, la...not once."
Chariset paced behind the columns, still a prisoner in her own house. "But how will we know if he does? The gazing pool's gone...and I'm really the only one who ever used it."
She was bored, bored and restless. None of her attempts to change the situation had worked at all--she couldn't even change the reality of her temple. She had tried everything from opening holes in the roof or floor to shrinking the building down until it was small enough that Agnus could carry it--all without result. Big Whoop was good at keeping her caged.
Fortunately, she could still change her spirit-form--the only real source of activity for her. She wore her hair about as long as it had been in life, and pony-tailed, but she had converted her clothes into flowing white robes. It was a subtle jab at her parents, who came by from time to time to give her lectures on proper behavior for a ghost. If you're going to call me a dead woman who has no chance at life, I'm going to look the part, her filmy robes said. They even stirred and moved about in a spirit-wind no one else seemed to feel.
Chariset had no idea how truly ghostly she looked, padding around inside her temple like a bare-footed lion in a cage. All she knew was that she felt rootless and lost, unanchored. The least little wind could blow her away now, and she struggled not to feel safe inside the temple. She mustn't start thinking of Big Whoop as her protector, not now. If he was the hand that protected her little flame, he was also the breath which threatened to blow it out.
"I've never felt so helpless," she confided to Agnus. "I have no control over my future, none. I don't even know what's going on outside this world. If I couldn't even see what was happening here, I think I'd go insane."
"I'm here, la," said Agnus, but seeing him cut down to less than half his usual mass was enough to negate most of the comfort of his words. He was just as much a prisoner and subject to Big Whoop's whims as she was.
They sat in silence for a while. "Agnus...that contract you made," she began, finally. "I know there must have been other factors involved. I'm sure you must have had your reasons to break it."
"He deceived me, la. He made me think my wife and kids were going ta be killed, executed by Her Majesty's government."
"So what did you do?"
"What could I do? I appeared in front of the entire crowd--in broad daylight--and scared away the executioners to save their lives."
"And that was it. You saved them for the moment, but lost everyone."
"Aye."
"Where is your family now?"
"They died anyhow, la.." Agnus choked, and a tear ran down his face. "Big Whoop locked me up, just like he did you, and left me there for years. When he finally let me out again, all my family was dead down to a great-grandson. And I couldn't do a thing about it."
"So they've been...in Heaven all these years, without you." Chariset felt a sharp pain in her throat as she contemplated this suffering man, whose name meant 'lamb.' Why does the world always hurt the gentle? she wondered.
"Aye, la. For over two centuries, while Big Whoop steals people from their lives just because they have my name."
Chariset had never believed in any place like Purgatory, but if there were such a thing, this was it. "You wouldn't want to come back to life again even if you could, would you?"
"No, Chari-la. I just want it to be over.."
She pressed both palms to the invisible barrier separating her--he raised two fingertips and touched the other side. Choking back a tear or two of her own, she answered "It will be someday, Agnus. I swear to you that Big Whoop is going to fall, and then you'll be out of here forever."
"I believe you, la." A large spirit tear splashed to the ground and splattered against the barrier. "If anyone can do it, you can."
I don't deserve his trust, she thought sadly--but just then the world began to fade out.
"What the--?" The barrier was darkening, turning opaque, blocking out her view of the world. Even as the darkness closed her in, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. They were sinking. The temple, with her inside it, sinking into the ground. Her throat closed up with panic, blocking a scream.
"Chariset Threepwood," boomed the voice of Big Whoop, coming from somewhere in the walls. "You have been found guilty of violating the rules. Are you ready to hear your sentence?"
"Let me out of here!" she shrieked.
"Are you ready to hear your sentence?"
"No, you monster!" She could hardly breathe.
"Chari, la!" Agnus cried from somewhere above her.
"Are you ready to hear your sentence?"
She reminded herself that she didn't need to breathe and fought to answer him calmly. "I don't abide by your justice. I refuse to accept your sentence."
"You will hear your sentence." The voice may or may not have admitted a small defeat. "You, Chariset Threepwood, shall remain buried alive until such time as I see fit to release you."
She felt the blood drain out of her face. A horrified whisper: "Buried.....no! You can't leave me down here!"
The voice made no reply. "Agnus!" she screamed. "My family! He's going to kill them all!"
He either could not hear her or she couldn't hear his reply. The darkness swept in on her, smotheringly, until she soared upward in utter panic, smashing into walls and columns. Nothing yielded, though she ricocheted off every surface within, dizzy and bruised in spirit. Eventually, completely disoriented, she let herself fall into what must have been the floor, panting.
"I won't let you kill my brother," she shouted hoarsely into dead air.
"You can't really threaten me, can you? You're dead and buried."
"You can't keep me here forever."
"I can, but I won't. You should be out of here just in time to see...this." There was a faint shimmer in the air, and a dimly-glowing form appeared before her. The Athena statue was moving. She bent down, laid her spear on the ground, and turned toward her--and her face was the face of Elaine. "Hi, sis," she said in Guybrush's voice. "I can't wait to see you again. Won't it be fun when I let you out of here?"
"You monster!" she screamed, flinging herself at the hateful image. But Elaine/Athena/Guybrush held up a hand--she struck it hard, fell....and awareness fled away. Her spirit form in white robes lay motionless on the stone floor while the rest of her mind went....somewhere else.
Agnus knelt on the grassy
plot where the temple had once stood, numb. "You were my last hope,"
he mumbled. Only the cries of the birds in the air replied.