The dark tiles on the Palace's roof were quickly being covered by the falling snow.
The contrast between black and white was simple, yet so beautiful, Frollo thought to himself. He wondered why he had never noticed that before, why he had never stopped to look at that compelling view of the whole building covered in white from above.
It took him a minute to realize that he had never seen that before because he was looking from an impossible angle.
He looked down again, at the Palace at his feet, and shocked, he noticed that he had no feet. He was floating in the nocturnal air, above the building, and he couldn't see anything behind his white night robe. He tried to move and immediately, his awareness was transported in the direction of his thoughts.
What in God's name was going on?
He lifted his palms in front of his face, and saw them translucent, almost transparent, just a thin fog in the shape of his hands.
The comprehension of his situation started to slowly sink in. He was outside his body. But he was somehow alive and aware. Was this death? He didn't remember dying. His last memory was getting up from Esmeralda's bedside, and then… the snow covered roof.
Had he died? When? How?
And if he was dead… why was he still there? In Paris? He always thought that after death, he would somehow find himself before God, who would judge his deeds and decide if he was allowed in Heaven or sent to Hell. That's what he had been taught, and what he firmly believed.
But he was all alone. Did this mean he was a ghost now?
A crippling terror started to take over him. What if this was it? No Heaven, no Hell. Just the same old, empty, cruel world, but with no physical form? Doomed to spend eternity as a ghost, unseen and unheard, completely alone?
No. No. That couldn't be possible. God was just and merciful. He wouldn't allow that fate upon His children, at least not without a fair trial first. Frollo was sure of this.
But then… where was He?
He looked around again, over the city. And then he saw it. Of course. Notre Dame. If God was waiting for him somewhere, it had to be there. He would go over there, and demand an explanation. It wasn't in vain that he had spent his whole life as a pious man, devoted to doing the right thing by His rules. He deserved more than a ghostly, doomed eternity.
Just with this thought, he felt himself being propelled towards the cathedral towers, among the storm clouds.
He saw the stone walls approaching, and feared he would crash into them, so he instinctively covered his head with his arms, but nothing happened. When he opened his eyes, he was standing there, floating over the corridor that connected both towers. The stone arcs were starting to be covered in snow as well, and it made a perfectly symmetric view.
But Frollo was too altered to think about that. He was busy wondering where exactly he could find God. His logic told him to look for Him inside, at the altar. Though there were many altars in the cathedral, devoted to different saints. Which one would God choose to show Himself?
However, his intuition told him to look up, closer to the sky.
So, impulsed only by his sheer will, he soared to reach the rooftop corridor, where hours before he had been sitting in the dark, while Esmeralda was fighting her illness.
It was empty. Quasimodo was nowhere to be found, and that was strange. He never left the cathedral, not unless something serious happened. Then again, if he was dead, perhaps Quasimodo was guarding his body somewhere.
Suddenly, he heard a voice inside his mind, a warm familiar voice.
- Come here, my son. - the voice said.
He turned around, looking for someone, but there still was no one there. The corridor was empty. But… wait a second. No, it wasn't possible.
- Come. - the voice invited again, and this time Frollo was sure. It was the statue. Mary's statue, the one he had been praying to the night before. It was looking right at him.
He felt a sudden surge of shame take over his… body? He now wanted to hide himself, in all his sinful humanity, terrified of what could happen to him if anyone saw his true essence.
But, as if he was being pulled by a magnetic force, he found himself right in front of the statue. He saw it come to life, her eyes becoming human and bright, her stone lips curling in a welcoming smile, and her hands breaking free from the wall and opening towards him.
- Why are you so scared, my son? - she asked, without moving her lips. Her voice just somehow sounded inside his mind, though he felt like he was hearing it inside his chest, as if she was speaking telepathically right into his heart.
He couldn't find the words to answer, or to say anything else, to that matter. He was so overwhelmed by the experience, still unsure if it was really happening or it was just some hallucination. Maybe he had gone crazy.
- You're not crazy. - the woman reassured him.
- Am… Am I dead? - Frollo finally dared to ask. As with her, the words didn't come from his mouth but rather sounded in the air, inside his mind.
- You're also not dead. Not yet.
Not yet? What did that mean? Was this some kind of middle ground, between life and the after-life? Did that mean his body was still alive?
- Yes. - her voice answered his unspoken questions, apparently able to read his mind. - Your body is still in your bed, hanging by a thread. That thread. - her stone index finger pointed toward his stomach, and he was suddenly aware of a dim silver cord that started on his belly and continued forward, fading into the distance in direction to the palace. It was sort of a spiritual umbilical cord, and when he focused on it for a while, he could feel the softest pull from his body at the other end of it.
- What is happening? Why am I here? - he asked the statue, encouraged by the warm kindness in her gaze.
She smiled in a soothing way, and her hand reached for his arm. Though he had no flesh, he could somehow feel her gentle touch, and her powerful energy filled him with trust.
- Do you remember what you said to me last night? - she asked softly.
- Yes. - he said, recalling his desperate prayer. So that was it. His prayer had been heard. God had chosen to take him up on his offer, and He had saved Esmeralda, and was now claiming His part of the deal.
- There is power in words. - the woman explained calmly. - Specially those that come from the honesty of the heart. You said you wanted to give up your life for hers, so you brought upon yourself the circumstances that lead you to precisely that.
Frollo took a deep breath. Though he had no lungs, or nose, or any other physical parts, he could feel the air coming inside him and giving him courage.
- I'm ready. - he stated convinced. - I am a man of my word.
The statue smiled again tenderly.
- That's good. But that is not how this works. - she replied.
- What do you mean? - Frollo asked, baffled.
- Your life and death are sacred, and only yours, my son. No one will demand you to give them up. I believe you have a choice to make now.
A couple hours had gone by, and Frollo didn't show signs of getting better. They had tried to wake him up, but he was profoundly unconscious. If it wasn't for the weak pulse they kept checking in his neck, they would have definitely thought he was dead.
Quasimodo kept insisting Esmeralda to go have some rest herself, as they couldn't do anything to help the man, and she was still recovering. But she refused time and again. She would only doze off in the armchair for brief periods of time, after which she anxiously asked Quasimodo if there was any change, only to get the same negative every time.
When she woke up for the forth time and Frollo was still unconscious, she looked at Quasimodo with desperation in her eyes.
- Is there really nothing we can do? - she pleaded. - Maybe we should call someone.
- Who? - Quasimodo replied, rubbing his eyes. He was also exhausted, for this was his second night awake in a row, and he was having a hard time thinking clearly.
- I don't know… some kind of doctor, something like that.
- I don't know anyone. - Quasimodo admitted embarrassed. Esmeralda felt guilty, for it was now obvious to her that the poor man couldn't have met many people while living exiled in that tower. - Anyway, I don't think there's much anyone could do. He's not showing any symptoms. He doesn't have a fever, or a cough, or any kind of pain that we know of. He's just… gone.
- He's not gone. - she quickly replied. - He's still here. He's breathing, and his heart is beating.
- But he doesn't look like he's here. - Quasimodo pointed out in a whisper.
Esmeralda frowned, her forehead deeply wrinkled with worry. Until her expression changed all of a sudden.
- I know what we should do! We should pray! - she said, excited at the perspective of at least doing something.
- That's a good idea! - Quasimodo replied, equally glad. - He would like that very much. He did the same for you yesterday.
He suddenly looked away, with an awkward look on his face. The words had slipped from his mouth before he had time to consider that Frollo wouldn't like him revealing his private moment of vulnerability to her. But it was too late. Esmeralda had heard him, and leaning forward on the chair, she inquired:
- He did?
Quasimodo was rubbing his hands against each other nervously, feeling his cheeks turn red. He was certain that Frollo would severely scold him if he found out he had betrayed his trust.
- Quasimodo! - Esmeralda called out, attempting to get up from the armchair.
- No, please! Don't get up! - Quasimodo begged her.
- Then answer me! - Esmeralda replied irritated.
- Alright, okay! - Quasimodo yielded, running his hands through his messy red hair, and then covering his face with them. He inhaled sharply, and gathering his strength, he decided to tell her the truth. - You know how you told me before that you couldn't understand why he would do this for you? - he asked, pointing at the man laying on the bed.
- Yes.
- Well… it's obvious to me, but apparently not to you.
- What is? - she asked cautiously.
- He cares about you. - Quasimodo stated.
- What do you…?
- He cares about you. - he repeated, putting a special emphasis in the second word, and giving her a meaningful look.
Esmeralda quickly reacted, leaning back into the armchair and crossing her arms.
- You're wrong. - she replied.
- I am? - Quasimodo asked her in a mocking tone.
- Yes. - she affirmed with certainty. - I also thought that for a while… but then he proved me wrong.
- How?
- He told me to leave the palace, and made it pretty clear that he never wanted to see me again.
- You mean when he offered you your freedom back? - Quasimodo asked again, trying to prove his point.
- It wasn't like that. It was… I don't know. It's hard to explain. - she replied, frustrated.
- Look, – Quasimodo said in a low conciliatory tone- I don't know the details of what happened while you were here, or how you decided on your new arrangement. But I know Frollo. I've known him my entire life. And though I know he cares about me, in his own way… I've never seen him like he was last night.
- Like what? - she asked hesitantly.
- With such intense feelings and reactions.
- I'm not sure that's a good thing. - Esmeralda stated, lifting her eyebrows. - Remember what happened the last time he got… intense?
- No, this was nothing like that – Quasimodo replied convincingly. - Trust me, Esmeralda. This wasn't some mad, selfish obsession. I believe it was the most selfless he's ever been.
- What makes you so sure? - she asked in a whisper.
The bell ringer hesitated for a moment. Answering that would be crossing a line. But he didn't know if Frollo would ever wake up, and he knew Esmeralda wouldn't take no for an answer, and he was scared, sad and tired. He didn't have the strength to keep pondering anymore.
- Because, – he finally said – when he was praying, I heard him offering God his own life in exchange for yours.
Esmeralda's mouth opened in bewilderment. She looked at Quasimodo as if searching for a confirmation, and he nodded back at her. She was frozen still for a second, and then, without second though, she got up from the chair, stepping only on her right foot. Quasimodo protested but she raised her palm at him to prevent any attempt to stop her. He reluctantly observed as she moved towards the bed, jumping on one leg. She sat on the edge, with a heavy sigh from the effort, and then she leaned towards Frollo.
Esmeralda placed her hand on Frollo's soft cheek. The coldness of it sent a shiver down her spine. But it only made her more determined, and with a deep frown, she said to the sleeping man:
- Don't you dare do this! You need to start fighting, right now! You can't just give up your life like that! Not because of me, you can't put that on me! - she scolded him, though with each sentence her voice was cracking more and more, turning into a pleading cry. - So you have to fight, you hear me?
But the man didn't move, or react, or gave any sign that he was listening to her words at all. So she sighed with exasperation, and she leaned even closer to him, holding his face to hers and placing her lips by his ear, so no one else could hear her next words.
- Please, Claude, - she whispered, with a warm tear rolling down her cheek and falling into his silver hair. - I'm not done with you.
The statue's words had left him bewildered. What did she mean, it was his choice?
Again, her voice sounded in his head, answering his unspoken questions.
- I mean precisely that. You're at the edge of death. It is your choice to come back or to continue your journey beyond.
- It doesn't make sense – Frollo protested, confused. - I failed God's test, I was selfish and kept Esmeralda under my control instead of letting her go for real. And then He made her sick to reveal the error in my ways. I begged you to intercede so He would save her… offering my own life in exchange. So, if I decided to come back, wouldn't that mean failing His divine test again?
- My beloved child… - the sweet voice said, full of compassion.
And then the weirdest thing happened.
The statue's face began to get blurry, as it morphed into something different. Her whole body emerged from the stone wall, shrinking to a human size, and her granite skin transformed to flesh. Frollo was staring amazed at this metamorphosis. But when the process ended, and he saw who was standing there, his heart (or whatever it was that he felt beating inside) stopped.
- Mother? - he asked in disbelief.
- Claude. - the woman called with the warmest smile.- I'm so happy to see you.
- What… what is happening? - he asked again, utterly confused.
- We just thought it would be easier for you this way. - the woman explained kindly.
- We…? - he began, but then his mother reached out to him and he marveled at the realness of her touch. Her hand felt warm on his, solid. He started trembling, his eyes tearing up, and suddenly it didn't matter what was real and what wasn't, where he was or why. His mother, the one he had been missing his entire life, the person he would have given anything in his power to save… was there again, with him.
He kneeled to the floor, and the woman kneeled before him, placing her hands on both sides of his face.
- My dear boy… - she whispered, and then she took Frollo's head to her chest, and cradled it there.
Frollo closed his eyes and focused only on her presence, her fingers running through his hair, soothing him. He could have stayed there forever. For the first time since she had died, he felt protected again, safe. Like he could relax and everything would be okay. Like he didn't need to be in control of everything, for there was someone else, someone he trusted, someone who loved him… that would take care of him. He felt so overwhelmed with gratitude, he couldn't even think. He realized the heavy burden he had been carrying up until that instant, and how exhausted he was. It wasn't his body, or his age, what was weighing him down. It was his weary soul, always alert, always forcing himself to be in charge of things. Always afraid. Always alone.
- Claude… - his mother softly called. He raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were full of love and compassion. - You got it all wrong, my dear.
- What do you mean? - he asked, with a childlike openness.
- What happened with Esmeralda… it isn't like you think. It was a divine test… but not the one you thought it was. It wasn't meant to prove if you were able to stay away from her. It was meant to prove if you were able to love her.
Frollo was shocked. And yet, a deep shiver at his core recognized the truth in those words.
- You've spent your entire life with your heart locked away inside an impenetrable wall. God wasn't trying to tempt you, or to make things harder on you… He was trying to help you. He was trying to make His Love get through to you.
- But… but her wound… her sickness…
- That wasn't a punishment, my love. Just a second chance at realizing what truly mattered to you. To both of you.
Frollo felt tears rolling down his ethereal cheeks. He didn't know how this was possible, but at this point he no longer cared.
- So what now? - he asked, with a cracking voice.
- That's up to you to decide – his mother repeated. - You know...when the exhaustion and cold hit your body, you just gave up. You were so willing to die, to let go, that your body didn't even try to survive. But God doesn't want you to die. He will welcome you Home if you decide to pass away... but He believes that there's still a chance for you here.
- A chance…?
- To love – she explained with a smile, stroking his cheek. - You see… anyone can die for love. But can you live for love?
That question shook him to his core. It was true, he had been willing to die if that meant saving Esmeralda. But going back to her… opening his heart to her, risking that vulnerability, exposing himself to her likely rejection… that was much harder and terrifying.
It had been easier when he thought that letting her go was God wanted from him. It had given him the most powerful excuse to push her away and stay safe inside his defensive walls. But now he understood God had never asked such a thing from him. Instead, He had sent him that dream to prevent him from hurting her or anyone else. And when they had drifted apart, He had reunited them at the cathedral, which caused them to get closer again. God wasn't punishing him. He was loving him. He was giving him what he never knew he always wanted. A chance to live more fully. And the freedom to choose whether or not to take it.
But looking at his mother again, Claude Frollo felt his heart shattering, upon the realization that he wouldn't be able to do it. He lacked the courage to expose himself to the intensity of grief again. He had loved his mother with all his childish, innocent heart… and the uncontrollable forces of sickness and cruelty had ripped her from him. And now his much older, wiser heart had fallen for the gypsy dancer… but he wasn't willing to go through that again. He wouldn't survive it.
- What will happen to me if I chose not to return? - he asked whispering.
- I can't tell you that… - she answered gently. - But you shouldn't fear it. God will be there with you.
- Have you met Him? God? - he suddenly inquired with reverence.
His mother displayed an enigmatic smile.
- He's not who you think either. He's not even a "he". There are no words to explain it to you… but whenever you're close to love, you're close to It.
Frollo suddenly remembered how he had felt when Esmeralda kissed him. How he had felt connected to a higher power, made of kindness and forgiveness. Now that he knew the truth, it made much more sense. But still… still, his decision remained the same.
- It's okay then. - his mother reassured him, reading his thoughts and feeling his concern. - It's your decision. You will be fine.
So he inhaled slowly, tasting the feeling of the air coming one last time into his chest, even if it wasn't his physical one. The snow storm had stopped, and a clearing in the horizon was allowing the sunlight from the upcoming dawn to get through. It was going to be a beautiful morning, he thought, if the sun was going to shine over the snow. A perfect goodbye to his earthly existence. He thought of the people he cared about. He felt a pinch of worry about Quasimodo, but then he realized that Esmeralda and his new friends wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. He thought that his departure would at last free her from his control, from her fear of him. He remembered the terror she had felt during her hallucinations, and was glad to think that she wouldn't feel that ever again. She and her people would be safe now. Safe from him. The monster who had almost burned them alive. He hoped God would have mercy on him. He had done the best he could.
He finally exhaled, and as the air exited his lungs, he let all his worries and attachments leave him as well. It was time. He was ready to die.
As the first ray of sun hit his eyes, at the top of Notre Dame, Claude Frollo bid his life farewell.
But then, another voice sounded in his head. It wasn't his mother's, or the statue's. It was Esmeralda's. And she was calling his name.