VIII. You cannot win
The mass of servants was closing in around him once more, yet the front ranks seemed to be reserved for the Lost Ones. They were all there, Adhemar and Aeternus, Niobe and Bertrand, Ferox and Atrox. And Créon was at their very front, his one single cold eye fixed on the Phantom's face. "It is time, young Erik", he announced, and a chorus of murmurs repeated, "It is time."
Drawing a deep breath and trying to stand as upright as possible, the Phantom steeled himself for what was to come.
Positioning himself at the Phantom's right side, Créon addressed his followers – or at least those he found worthy of addressing. "We have found our new initiate at last", he proclaimed. The flames of the braziers made bizarre shadows dance over his sharp, angular features. "Soon the plans of the Lost Ones will be complete, and a new age shall dawn for our kind."
Instead of the cheering the Phantom would have expected, there was silence, and all bowed their heads in reverence. What kind of plans were those? What was it Créon wanted? Was he truly going to challenge God, however he expected to achieve that?
This man was mad, totally mad!
And the worst about it was that he was too weak, too exhausted to fight any longer. And Créon knew, and was very sure that the Phantom was going to join his followers. For Créon, there would be no choice, there was only one option.
He should have ended this before tonight. He should have made an end to it all right after Christine had left, an end to Créon's mad plans as well as his own pathetic existence. Now Christine was gone, there was no sense to his life anymore. Destroyed utterly, it was time to choose the path into the gentle darkness at least now. He had already lost everything; he had nothing to lose. No glorious requiem, then. Just time to quietly depart.
Once again he drew a deep breath to steady himself. Now he had decided, he at once felt oddly calm. "You will have to find someone else to teach obedience", he told Créon quietly. "My life does not matter to me."
A murmur rose from the assembled, yet was hushed by their Master with a sharp wave of his hand. "Do not be foolish, boy. You are too young to throw your life away."
"What do I care?" the Phantom asked grimly. "I would rather die than once again be a captive and caged."
"Then let us kill him, Master!" Adhemar cried. "He has no right to defy you!"
"And you had no permission to speak", Créon replied coolly, and Adhemar's cheeks coloured slightly, though it might just have been the unsteady firelight. "Very well, boy, let me make this clear: You are too valuable to die. Whatever your true choice may be, in the end it is mine that matters. You are no longer master of your own fate. I am." A disdainful smile lingered on his lips, yet his eye stayed as it always was, cold and empty. "I have seen your defiance; it does not come unexpected. I have seen your true form, your reflection in the spirit world, and I know you better than you know yourself. You will make a worthy sub-dominant to me, and the day may come when the world kneels before me and you stand at my right hand. Yet until then, you need a hand to guide you. And guide you I will. There is no escape for you, boy. I will not permit you to die."
So even death was denied to him now. All that awaited him was torment and constant humiliation, and he was not even allowed to set an end to his miserable life. And he had thought he had been defeated utterly before! But this was the complete, the ultimate defeat. He had fallen so far and deep that there was no way back up anymore.
Créon was watching him closely, stony-faced. "Tell me", he said at last, "who was the one you allowed access to your mind, just a moment ago?"
What did he have to ask for? "Her", the Phantom spat, jerking his chin in Niobe's direction. Laughing at his display of hatred, Niobe blew him a kiss.
"No. Earlier on."
"You, then", he snarled. "Why do you ask? You must know, after all."
"No", Créon repeated. "It was somebody else. The touch was brief and very shallow, but it was there. And I want to know who it was."
What new kind of humiliation was this, making him display his weakness in front of everyone? "I don't know", the Phantom growled. "But I'm sure you do." If he was forced to live, he would live to see Créon die!
"You know, young Erik", Créon remarked, "your mind is very peculiar. Most Lost Ones are a bit like that before they learn, but you… I have never encountered anything of the like before. It seems that part of your awareness is interwoven with someone else's, yet the link does not carry, it is not strong enough to allow me access, and I have tried several times."
Clenching his teeth, the Phantom forced his features to freeze as they were, not to move, not to reveal anything. He understood what this meant, even though the others did not: Créon had tried to touch Christine.
"Of course, a link this weak is practically useless", Créon continued. "This is why we have not delved any further into it. It seemed to me that this was nothing but the sign of a past failure, whatever you tried to do."
But the Phantom's teeth did not unclench. Practically useless. He concentrated hard on Créon's observation, leaving room for nothing else in his thinking awareness, especially not for a growing sensation that was so strong that he dreaded Créon would pick it up, despite his words, and – No, practically useless. Practically useless. Nothing there. Practically useless.
And at the same time, all that truly bothered him was to somehow tell her to go away, and as far away as possible.
They were all watching him, even the servants. Everybody was watching him. Did they not sense it, so dazzlingly, so overwhelmingly strong? Kalo was there, half scowling, half smirking at him from half behind Bertrand's shoulder, his dark face full of hatred. Could not even that foul gypsy feel it, so strong that there must be a glow around the Phantom now, an increasing light…
No, he was dreaming. He was going mad.
Niobe approached him gingerly, with glancing at Créon at every second step. Only when the Master did not interfere, her attitude picked up confidence, and then she stalked as if she had never hesitated at all. The Phantom watched her progress warily, concentrating desperately on his hatred towards her.
When she was with him, Niobe put both hands on his shoulders. "You can't escape me, either", she whispered. "The Master has given me leave to take you, should your answer be as it is. I'm grateful you value your life so little, for this way you will provide some entertainment tonight, especially if you put up a struggle. Oh, what a tasty morsel you will make!" Her laughter was like pearls of ice cascading down a waterfall as she stealthily damaged his already torn shirt some more.
He half-heartedly tried to pull away from her, hoping that she would be busy enough with fondling him not to notice what he did. She could rip his shirt to shreds and pass her hands over him all she liked, as long as she did not realize –
Créon's voice rang out loud and clear, crushing the Phantom's hope to sharp, cutting shards that stabbed into his insides. "It seems that we are going to have visitors."
In the ensuing silence, the soft grating of stone on stone as a trapdoor in the wall opened was unnaturally loud.
