Deep beneath Monkey
Island, Big Whoop's Throne Room....
Picture, if you will, a nearly-circular dark cave with a vaulted ceiling so high that it vanishes into the blackness. Give this room flat, black floors and only one entrance--a long narrow tunnel. Imagine that a channel of magma runs down this tunnel, leaving any non-lava beasts to walk carefully along its edges. Imagine also that the channel is too wide to step or jump across, and too hot to make this a wise idea.
Follow the channel to the exact center of the room, where it opens into a pool of magma which is exactly circular. The channel continues to the far side of this cave, where it vanishes. The room is thus divided exactly in two.
In the very center of this round pool, (the only source of light in the whole room), is a large stone structure shaped exactly like a beast writhing in pain in the pool of molten rock. Its only decorations are the bones of perhaps two human beings, set in careful patterns in the rock, ribs upright and displayed around the edges like feathers, four intact and desperate hands clutching at air from the sides, four feet seeming to kick for freedom. The skulls are side by side on a smaller clump of stone which serves as a footrest, for this, as you have probably already figured out, is Big Whoop's throne.
The throne swivels in the lava, and the massive occupant of this horrid structure leans back, kicks his 'feet' out of the rock, and plunks them down onto the faces of the unlucky skulls, who try not to groan too loudly. For these skeletons are all that remain of the unhappy Horace and Largo, rewarded for their faithful service with this honored position. No one is closer to their master. Still alive, the two former henchmen have nothing to hope for but oblivion...or possibly revenge. But neither will come if their terrible master has his way.
Big Whoop leaned back and steepled his fingers, pleased indeed with the news from his two simulacrum-spies. The two Captains he controlled--Murray and this Elaine, both near and dear to the Threepwood pair--were well on their way. Elaine's ship was right off the coast, in fact, though his agent reported some delay in disembarking. He hadn't been more specific than that, which had Big Whoop both slightly amused and slightly worried. He'd actually expected some trouble from this Guybrush character in his years of long-dealing with him through LeChuck, but Big Whoop was anxiously awaiting the moment he could confront the man directly, instead of tiresomely working through intermediaries. He was even tired of Singing in his enthralled workers and soldiers. Patience, he told himself. They'll bring this Guybrush ashore soon, and then you can have your revenge. Lava curled upward in what might have been a smile. Such a pity the Threepwood sister wouldn't be here to see it, though when she herself was brought in, she would see the evidence... That alone might be enough amusement, for a while...
"Revenge and more revenge," he said aloud. "Such an old, sweet story...I tire of it."
With admirable timing, the green parrot came flying in, just above the channel of lava. Underlit with golden light and headed directly towards him, she was a near-heraldic figure of a bird, worthy of some nobler cause--Big Whoop spent the few seconds she took to alight on his throne arm toying with the notion of taking a human body and making himself a king, the parrot as his design. But parrots don't sing, nor do they scheme and plot. A parrot was an unlikely symbol of what his reign would be like. Maybe all the better to adopt it...
The bird cut his musing short with her first few words, spoken at a scream. "He's gone! He made a potion, knocked out the whole ship, locked the crew in the hold, and now he's gone! He didn't even take a rowboat! He just vanished!"
There was no mistaking who the 'he' was. "What??!?" Big Whoop began to rise from his throne, blazing with green fire and looking like murder personified. The green parrot backed away as well as her little claws could manage--she was Little Whoop and a part of his substance, but that still wouldn't keep him from destroying her parrot body. "Then you'd better find him, and quickly. He can't be too far away."
"B-but Big Whoop... we don't know when he left. He could be anywhere between here and Plunder Island," the bird pointed out, cowering.
"He'll be here..." growled the magma monster. "He knows I'm the one he wants to deal with. But if you don't find him soon...." he left the thought hanging. Little Whoop would have swallowed hard, if parrot anatomy allowed for this. Big Whoop was closer to him than a parent figure...they were the same being...but if Little Whoop even appeared to stand between Big Whoop and his revenge, he would kill the parrot-body and Little Whoop without a second thought. He had never been so afraid.
He was so afraid that his claws had locked onto the bony armrest of the throne. Even as he carefully loosened them, another messenger appeared, this one a human man. But he was clearly either possessed by another Little Whoop or undead, since he walked directly down the center of the lava channel without harm. He bowed and reported. "The Sea Cucumber and Captain Murray have arrived, sir."
Undead, then. Little Whoops never said 'sir.'
"Excellent," beamed Big Whoop. "Do they have any prisoners, by any chance?"
The man looked confused. "No, sir. Should there be?"
Big Whoop scowled, a gathering storm on his face. "There should be a woman on board," he began slowly, hinting. Little Whoop had never seen himself show so much forbearance.
"Oh! You mean Captain Threepwood!" The man brightened considerably. "She's not on board anymore."
"And just where might she be?" continued the lava-creature with chilling calm.
"Captain Murray threw her overboard...sir." The little man remembered his manners as Big Whoop's face clouded even more. "He said that you could have her dead, but not alive."
Little Whoop anxiously scanned the molten lava's features, but read nothing but minor disappointment. Big Whoops shrugged philosophically. "The skeletons will bring her back here eventually," he said at last. "And we've still got one Threepwood to play with. You may go." He dismissed the man with a flick of his 'hand.' Little Whoop was astounded that he had gotten away with his life...er....undeath.
"And as for you, my little feathered self, go out there and find him. I don't have to tell you what will happen if you fail."
Little Whoop knew better than to waste time in blubbering. He bowed once, picked up his tail neatly, and leaped into flight.
Two seconds later, a flying bullet of lava struck him in the back feathers. With a desperate squaaak, he plummeted into the lava, transforming instantly into a skeleton bird, wings upright and feet apart. The magma around him hardened into a rough shield shape.
Big Whoop sent his new crest to the top of his throne with half a thought, most of his attention on a lighted circle of magma on the other side of his seat--invisible from the bird's perspective. In it, a man and a woman were descending ropes to the bottom of a narrow canyon. A perfect trap. Big Whoop stirred the lava around the image, smiling thoughtfully at what other evil tricks he could pull before lunching on the soul of the dim-witted crewman and adding his skeleton to his decor.
"Go out and take over five or six monkeys," he ordered idly to the lava, out of which six Little Whoops instantly sprang, scrambling to obey. They vanished out of the cavern, sparks dancing behind them for a few seconds, until even those tiny motes of light were gone.
Daemon and Chariset were next to their tiny fire as Guybrush returned from his brief forage session. "Found some bananas," he announced.
Silence.
"Found out Big Whoop's hiding place and saved Elaine."
Chari, head bent over a sheet of paper, didn't respond.
"I know the Secret of Monkey Island."
"That's nice, Guybrush."
"Oh, and LeChuck says hi."
"Hmmm.."
"Murray says he doesn't want to see you any more."
"What??!?"
He grinned.
"You ought to be butchered," growled Chari, returning to her perusing.
"I know." He was completely unrepentant. "What is this you're looking at, anyway?"
"It's a copy of that memo you sent me. The sheet music for the song Elaine was hearing."
Okayyyy.... "Why?"
"I have this feeling that this song is the key to Big Whoop's power. If there was some way we could make a counter-song, maybe we could reverse it. But I don't know the exact notes, and I can't read music well enough to sing a counter-song, even if I could write one."
"Why don't you just talk to Mike L. Sand?"
"Who?"
"He writes all the music for this sort of thing. Maybe he could even write it for you."
"I suppose it's worth a try. Daemon, do you know where to find this Mike Sand?"
The Daemon roused from his coil by the fire. "Mr. Mike L. Sand? He's seldom in his office, madam, but I'm sure I can track him down."
"Thank you. Would you please ask him for a reverse-melody of the Song of Calling? Call it the...Song of Awakening."
"And a small piano," added Guybrush.
At the Daemon's look of dismay, Chari hastily added, "All we need right now is the music."
"If madam wishes, I can merely learn the song myself and repeat it for you."
"That would be perfect," she replied with what sounded like heartfelt gratitude. Elijah rustled his feathers from the other side of the fire and whistled for attention.
The Daemon vanished. Guybrush stood up and called to Elijah, who was only too happy for someone to pay attention to him. Parrot on his arm, he scouted the floor of the canyon.
The sun was setting on the surface of the island, but this canyon was set deep enough that only a few red rays touched its walls. On the floor, where he and Chari were camping, it was dim twilight.
Elijah swooped upon a large, brightly-colored rock. "Pretty."
Guybrush bent down to look at it. "Yes, it's nice."
Elijah clearly wanted to keep the rock. Guybrush refused. The parrot sulked. He seized the rock in his impressive clawed feet and flew a few yards before it slipped out. Undaunted, he dove after it and repeated the performance. The third time, Guybrush took pity on him and carried it himself.
Elijah went after another rock. The mighty pirate tried not to sigh at the childishness of Chari's new pet bird.
"What's all this?" asked Elijah's mistress, when he finally returned to their campsite with a double-handful of bright pebbles.
"Rocks. And there's more where these came from."
"And....why?" It was hard to see her features, but she looked amused. "I know you have your collections, but I've never seen you solve a puzzle with rocks."
"Ask that idiot bird of yours--they're his." Elijah looked hurt, perched on the pile with his wings spread protectively over his treasures. "Pretty..." he said, looking beseechingly at Guybrush, as though he expected him to snatch them all away again.
Chariset was amused...in fact, she was close to laughing. "Then I'm sure he has his reasons, Guybrush."
"He does. 'Pretty.'" He tried not to roll his eyes. Chari tried not to laugh. Elijah tried to follow the conversation.
"Come 'ere, Bird," she coaxed, balancing him gently on her right hand and scratching his head feathers. His cascade of tail feathers trailed almost into the dirt--he really was a very striking parrot. He tucked his head into her shoulder, rolling one anxious eye at Guybrush.
"I know you're just tense about tomorrow," she began, comforting Elijah. "But he doesn't even know what's going on, half the time." The red bird chose that moment to shake out his crest feathers in what looked a little like an emphatic 'no.' "Let him have his pretty pebbles, Guybrush. At least for tonight."
Elijah continued to gaze at him fearfully. Guybrush relented, fished out a piece of cracker, and held it out to the parrot, careful to go nowhere near the 'pretty' pebbles. "Peace offering."
The bird reached for it, hesitated, then looked to Chari as if for permission. "You can stop the theatrics now," she advised in a whisper. Elijah seized the cracker (and nearly the fingers holding it) with joyful abandon, then launched himself into flight down the canyon floor. "Come! Come! More pretty."
Guybrush did sigh. Chari laughed gently at him.
"You're right, he's my bird." She held up a hand to forestall any comments from her brother. "I'll go take care of it. Wait here for the Daemon."
"Oook! Oook! Cheep!"
The monkeys were awake at midnight, even if the two tired adventurers weren't.
"Well, we are now," commented Guybrush.
"I always had been," responded Chariset, humming the little counter-tune the Daemon had brought back. The Daemon himself was once again asleep.
Rustling on the canyon walls. "Hey, Guybrush?"
"Yes?"
"Isn't that about where our ropes are?"
They both bolted for the walls, stumbling around in the darkness. Chariset tried to summon power from the Amulet, creating a blue flame which she set on Elijah. In the darkness, the fiery-blue parrot was quite impressive.
"Scout, Elijah!"
The glowing bird shrilled angrily at a gang of monkeys, who not only had discovered the two ropes leading down into the canyon but were playing with them. As Elijah swooped at them, they turned and fled, taking the ropes with them.
"The ropes!" Guybrush called. "Get the ropes!"
Elijah flew off in hot pursuit as the monkeys, chittering in excitement, scampered away, rope in paw. Two or three angry Bwwwaaaaaak!!'s later, he was out of earshot.
The moon chose that moment to come back out, revealing two Threepwoods stranded at the bottom of a canyon.
Chariset said the first thing that came to mind: "How embarrassing!"
"Well, I guess they don't call it Monkey Island for nothing," added her brother. It was her turn to be annoyed and his to be amused.
But the irritation didn't last long. "If this is the worst that happens to us, we'll be okay. We can find a way out in the morning."
He hugged her, on impulse. "I think you and I are good for anything."
"I hope so...I really do."
They walked back to their campsite. "Can you sleep?"
"No. Can you?"
"Not re--ally." Guybrush sounded like something had caught his attention in mid-word.
"What? What is it?"
"There's...smoke in the air. Look." He pointed--a thick cloud of black was rising to obscure the moon. The ground was shaking slightly, and a faint hissing sound was rising from--
"Great jumping Necromancer!" Chariset leaped to her feet as a thick yellow....thing poured over the lip of the fall wall and onto the canyon floor. It was yellow, it was glowing, it was...
"It's lava!" The molten stream was pouring right at them, steaming and smoking, filling up the far end of the canyon and creeping towards them. And they had no way to get out!
Chariset fled to the far wall. Sheer rock. No way to climb it. The glowing tide crept even closer.
"He's just toying with us now!" yelled Guybrush angrily.
"Toying or not, if we don't get out of here, we're going to be dead!"
Guybrush scooped up a handful of Elijah's pretties and began tossing them at the lava in sheer frustration.
"Stop wasting your time!" yelled Chariset in panic. "Rocks aren't going to stop it!!" He ignored her and kept throwing.
The Mailer-Daemon--their one hope of escape--awakened. She was on the verge of grabbing her brother by the collar and shoving him into the spirit's substance in sheer desperation (if not jumping in herself), when she noticed that the lava was slowing. As Guybrush threw another rock at it, the substance seemed to 'see' it coming and part around it, so that the rock landed on bare soil.
"I thought so," said Guybrush grimly. "This isn't real lava."
"Whatever it is, it doesn't want to mix with normal stones," Chariset realized, staring.
"So it won't cross them." Guybrush leaped forward and spread the remaining rocks across the floor of the canyon, making a protective barrier. There weren't enough to leave no spaces at all, but it would take a long time for the lava to seep between them. While Guybrush remained on the canyon floor, hurling one or two remaining rocks, Chariset and the Daemon rose to the surface. By the time he had fetched both of them out, it was near dawn, and Elijah had rejoined them. All four looked tired.
"We can't afford a rest," Chariset finally said reluctantly. "If we go into the trees, the monkeys will find us, and if we stay down here, the lava will trap us."
"Then we go on." Guybrush sounded just as weary. "We should be able to make it to the Monkey Head by morning."
The Daemon moved as if to follow, but they both stopped him. "Not you," said Chariset, even as Guybrush added, "You've been looking tired ever since the Seahorse. We don't need you to help us take a walk. Go rest. We'll call you when we need you."
Off they walked, into the darkness.
"Banana?"
"Oh, no thank you. I've seen more than enough of those things."
"Papaya?"
Chari regarded the dull gray-green-orange fruit doubtfully. "You go first."
"Elijah?"
"I don't--hey! We're not eating my parrot, Guybrush."
"Beggars can't be choosers, Monkey Woman."
"We can when it comes to my bird. And just because we're living in a tree does not make us monkeys."
He persisted. "Papaya or banana?"
"Do you have any mango?"
"I'll check." Guybrush descended to a lower branch of the gigantic oak tree they were sharing for the time being. It was on the windward side of the central mountain, and he had no clue how it had arrived in the first place (or why he hadn't noticed it before), but apparently it was a place foreign enough that the local monkeys shunned it. Chariset, who had seen oaks in America, liked it. Guybrush had his doubts.
What was more, it stood alone--anything coming after them was clearly visible from their vantage point. The branches were wide enough that it was possible to sleep comfortably on them, which they had for the remainder of the night. Not the most comfortable of beds, but they needed to rest and eat before they would be up to storming the Monkey Head and confronting Big Whoop.
He rummaged through his sack of plundered fruit, found a rare breadfruit, and carried it farther up the trunk to Chari's branch. Once again, he was glad he had no fear of heights. The Daemon was above them both, and Elijah was a self-appointed sentinel at the very top. He saw Guybrush, whistled happily, and flew down to join him.
"Pretty bird," greeted the mighty pirate, wincing a little as Elijah landed on his head. "Nice birdie."
Elijah bent his head down and looked him almost directly in the eyes--the upside-down parrot face was rather amusing. "Hewwoo."
"Going up?"
"Bwaaaaaack." The mighty parrot leaned over too far, lost his balance, and somersaulted, beak over feet. Only a quick catch from Guybrush saved him. Elijah, now on his back feathers, tail dangling, feet in the air, looked something close to foolish.
"I won't tell anyone."
"Bwaaaak?"
"Bwaaaak."
Guybrush righted the parrot, then handed him the breadfruit. "Take this up to Chari. I want to have a quick look around." Elijah seized the soft flesh of the fruit in his claws and made his way up with labored wingbeats. Guybrush headed in the opposite direction.
On the outermost tip of the strongest branch, Guybrush stopped and looked around. The tree was in the center of its own clearing, as though native vegetation didn't want to come too close to the foreign oak. The place was curiously deserted, which made it an ideal place to spend the night, but Guybrush was used to seeing the jungle filled with birds and animals, and the silence made him uneasy.
A slip, scramble, and two small thuds later, Chari had landed on the branch behind him. Elijah on her shoulder sqwaaaacked a protest and spread his wings for balance.
"Guybrush, you need to have a look at this." She pointed out towards the two-thirds of their field of vision the trunk had been obscuring; the two-thirds that showed the island coastline. Large swaths of disturbance were creeping through the trees, sending monkeys and birds scattering in all directions or taking noisy flight (yes, even the monkeys). Some trees were bursting into flames. Here and there, a tongue of yellow lava could be seen.
"Our old friend, Big Whoop." Smoke was rising all along the coastline now--did he mean to destroy the entire island just to get them?
She just nodded. "Herding us towards the Monkey Head. Should we accept his 'invitation' or just show up at his doorstep?"
"That depends on whether the Daemon is up for it. He looks worn-out lately."
"I'll be fine, sir," said the cultured voice of the spirit behind them, sounding much like an English butler. "But I won't be good for much afterward."
"After this, we can send you home," reassured Chari. "The voodoo lady can't have that much work for you to do. You've served us well....take a vacation."
"After this, young madam, I won't even have the strength to fly home." Guybrush must have looked as surprised as Chari, because the spirit chuckled. "You needn't worry about me, sir. My kind live to serve humans--most happily."
"Most?"
The spirit coughed politely. "Well, sir, there are always exceptions."
"I hope I never meet one," commented Chariset.
"Same here, madam. Some of them can be quite unpleasant."
"Are you ready?" Guybrush asked.
"Yes." The Daemon.
"No." From Chariset.
He looked at her. She squared her shoulders and clarified. "I think we both know that we're not ready for this."
"But who could be?"
"Exactly." She gave him a look that was half-sad and half-determined--for an instant, he was so proud of his little sis that he almost wanted to cry.
"So onward once again into incredible danger?" he finished instead.
"Knowing we may never come out?"
"Going right back into the same trap we escaped before?"
"But having no idea whom we're up against now?"
"Not to mention facing our own loved-ones turned against us?"
"And-" she took a deep breath, then gave him an impish smile "-loving it."
Guybrush appeared just in front of the entrance to Big Whoop's domain and blinked in surprise. The Monkey Head was completely gone. Instead, a gaping tunnel rose up out of the ground, descending deep into Monkey Island. Beyond the entrance, it appeared completely unlighted. It was also unguarded. Clearly they were meant to walk right in.
Chariset appeared--one or two feet off the ground--looked surprised at the unexpected drop, landed off-balance, and fell onto her knees. She picked herself up, brushing the dust off her trousers, and gazed upon the large cave without comment.
It was black. Darker than the darkest mouth. If they went in, would they come out again? Or would it swallow them whole and leave no trace that they ever existed? Guybrush had walked into a mouth that resembled one more strongly than this one before, but there was no doubt that this one scared him more. Chariset remembered a midnight trip to confront a powerful sorcerer through a gate as black as this one. She had balked at the door--now she balked at this one.
"There's nowhere to go but inside," she murmured to herself. Elijah, making a neat landing on her shoulder (he had come across the island under his own power) leaned against her ear and crooned. She held up her hand and called the blue fire to it--it came so readily that she knew the Amulet must be close. Probably inside the cave.
That settled it. Hand in hand, she and Guybrush walked down into the darkness.
A cold wind sighed past them as they walked on, inside hands linked, outside hands trailing on the edges of the walls, feeling their way along with their feet. It was pitch-black--had the light from outside not still been visible above them, Chari would have panicked and bolted for the exit. Ahead of them was Elijah, feathers aglow, spying out the way for them. She was tensed to drop Guybrush's hand and draw her sword at the slightest sign of motion from ahead, but there was none, nothing at all.
They could have walked for hours, or minutes, or days--time had no meaning down here. Neither of them spoke. The Mailer-Daemon was a pale, hovering shape at their back. Elijah was a glowing shape up ahead. The cold wind continued to whistle past them, into the depths of the mountain.
In a slightly rough voice, Guybrush said "Chari, look!"
A dim yellow light had crept up without her noticing. Before them was the bottom of the cave, which was just as narrow as the tunnel down, and divided by a thin thread of lava. It separated the Threepwood sibs, since the combination of narrow tunnel and red-hot central barrier shunted them both to either side of the passage. Chariset remembered the old 'divide and conquer' methodology and felt nervous, since their party was effectively cut in half now--she and Elijah on one hand, Guybrush and the Daemon on the other.
The passage opened slightly, and they entered what could only be Big Whoop's throne room. The floor was black, but a large pool of lava in the center provided some light. What was more, skeletons stood around the edges of the room, converted into unwilling candelabras. In the center of the pool was a giant throne, and in the center of that was-
"Why hello there. I wasn't expecting you so soon, but please do come in. Make yourselves comfortable." His tone was polite, almost pleasant, which contradicted with the eloquent promise of the being's own monstrous self. The creature they had come to destroy was nothing more than lava with a personality.
"Big Whoop," Chariset and Guybrush whispered in unison, gazing on the gigantic creature before them. Guybrush paled. Chariset felt her heart run out like water. Their eyes met across the channel of molten rock between them, and she knew they were thinking the same thing: We're dead. A lava monster has no weaknesses. The ground beneath their feet trembled with his latent power. They were nothing more than annoying bugs to be squished under his super-heated feet.
But Elijah, unimpressed, bristled on her shoulder and shrilled defiance at Big Whoop, glaring at something just above his throne. The skeleton of a parrot.
The utter fearlessness of her bird made Chariset feel slightly ashamed of herself--she drew her sword, called the flames close to hand (though still invisible) and addressed the monster. "Mr. Whoop. We've come some distance to see you."
"One mustn't be so indirect, Ms. Threepwood. I understand that you're far more interested in my associates." He sang, a single note that made the cavern shake and set the candle flames dancing. From either side of his throne--standing in the lava itself--two human figures stepped out and faced the intruders. "Meet my staff. I believe you're already acquainted with Captain Murray and, of course, the lovely Governor Elaine."
Murray stepped out of the lava and faced her on the black bank, looking exactly the way he had on the deck of the Sea Cucumber, so long ago. Chariset swallowed and took a few steps forward, involuntarily. Her feelings toward Murray were so tangled that she scarcely knew how to feel--and now, thanks to Big Whoop's machinations, she had to sort them out in a strange place with her life in danger.
Big Whoop ceased his note, and Murray relaxed and shook himself slightly. "Chari!" he cried joyfully.
Was he real? He looked real... She came forward another few steps, hesitantly, doubtfully.
He raced toward her, not pausing an instant, clearly meaning to catch her up in his arms. "Chari! You're alive!" With enough emotion to make something catch in her throat, he added, "I thought I'd killed you.."
"Oh, Murray.." she whispered, leaping forward to meet him halfway, all doubts aside, almost ashamed of how much she wanted to touch him again.
Big Whoop sang again, a single note, and Murray stopped short. Eyes dead and cold, he regarded her dispassionately, while she almost skidded to a halt, surprised, frustrated, and completely balked by his lack of reaction. Big Whoop dropped the note--Murray came to life--then the song resumed and he stood as lifeless as a skeleton before her.
"You see?" said the lava-creature unnecessarily. "He is mine. They are both mine." Across the room, Guybrush stood similarly baffled before a statue-Elaine.
Then Big Whoop looked at her chillingly. "As are you."
Before she could even react, he began to sing again--the Song of Calling--and her will and mind were mostly swept away before she realized what was happening. She dropped to her knees, surrounded in blue flame, fighting to preserve her one little scrap of personality. The Song ate away at her soul, and she gasped in pain but held on.
"Chari!"
"She belongs to me," thundered Big Whoop. "Everyone who passes through me belongs to me." To her he boomed, "You had no right to escape alive. You had no right to go into me and hurt me. I own your soul. And I am going to take it back!"
The blue flames wavered, dimmed, flickered. She gritted her teeth and fought harder.
"Let her go! I'm the one you want!" The voice was Guybrush's.
"But isn't this how it always happens, Guybrush?" Big Whoop mocked. "When it really counts, you're always left alone. Isn't that how it was when you defeated LeChuck? Come on....tell me that you don't secretly want it this way."
"I don't. And you'll never have her," snarled Guybrush.
She was down to last-ditch effort now. The voices seemed to be coming through dimly, like a conversation in a memory of a dream.
Her vision was blurring, but something glinted at the edge of her range of sight--the Necromancer's Amulet. Her one chance to escape...
"Oh, but I will. Soon I will have all of you...all that there are. Only then will I be satisfied."
"Guybrush..." She had to fight to get the words out. "The Amulet. Murray's holding it. Get me the Amulet."
But Guybrush was stranded on the other side of the pool of lava. He cursed in helpless frustration. Big Whoop laughed. Elijah shrilled in anger on her shoulder. As if in a sudden rush of air, the flames were extinguished, and Chariset was left holding off the Song with the last little bit of her strength.
Then, like a gift from Heaven, something dropped over her head and onto her shoulders. The Amulet. It came to life of its own will, flooding with white-hot energy, and burning a fiery answer back to Big Whoop.
No.
The Daemon fell to the ground beside her, a wraith that twisted in agony. "For you...madam.." he managed weakly, and vanished.
With a cry of inarticulate rage mixed with grief, Chariset sprang to her feet, blazing with flames of all colors. Elijah shrilled, both wings flung out behind him. "No," she growled at Big Whoop. "You are mine."
She threw back her head
and launched into the opening notes of the Song of Awakening.