Author's note: For continuing readers, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. This update took FAR too long and there was a point where I had thought I had given up. While I cannot promise speedy updates for the future, I do hope that it is nothing like that... i'll tell you that i had just been absent forever as far as getting anything done, I wrote the first draft on paper on a plane flight to Oregon in June, then had it flying around my house for some time when I finally started writing it in text about a month ago. I hope this all does not frighten away any new readers, because I do hope that you will stick around and read for a while. The next chapter will return to some Christine and fantome attention...
Le Fantôme et L'ange
Chapter Nine
The Sorceress
The night was colder than the last. Winter was marching its way into the northern territories and many were beginning to worry for the snow to come. Would it come early to the kingdom of Trégor, or was it merely coincidence? With the bustling news in town directed toward conversation of the spirits of Perros, coldness was imbedded in the hearts of the villagers during their chores throughout the day.
Even Raoul, who was generally light hearted at all times of the year, stopped to notice the coming winter.
As a chill caught hold of him late in the evening, Raoul arose from his slumber to look outside of his window.
The moon was beneath the cover of a blanket of clouds with no sign of peering upon the woods of Perros for the evening. The air was damp as Raoul pulled open the window. He sat beside the window's frame, hoping his eyes would catch the fatigue worthy of putting him back to sleep, when he noticed his brother standing beneath him in the doorway, looking out toward the trail. Philippe's arms were crossed over his chest and his breath puffed out in front of him.
With his evening coat draped over his shoulders, Raoul could see that Philippe was out for more than just a wakeful moment. His glance was set on some invisible presence from the distance.
Raoul's eyes scanned the trail ahead of them, when he caught the glimpse of a figure walking toward the brothers; toward Philippe specifically in front of the house.
It was a small, frail figure, walking very slowly away from her tied up horse with a cane. A long cape trailed behind her, suggesting previous height which had now dwindled with age. The cane pulled the figure closer to Philippe, who had now unraveled his arms from his chest and was walking to greet the mysterious shade. He approached as if Philippe were familiar with the individual, reaching his arms out to take the feeble arm in his and guiding what now appeared to be an elderly woman back toward their home.
Raoul jumped from the window and ran out of his room, stopping at the edge of the banister from the stairs. He crouched down just before the front door opened, blocked from view of those who were unaware of his presence downstairs. Philippe spoke with a hushed tone, making it clear that Raoul should remain silent. After offering to remove the old woman's cloak to no avail, Philippe ushered her into the drawing room and shut the door behind them.
Like a child, curious to his birth day's present, Raoul ran down the stairs and pressed his ear against the door's frame, trying to catch a word of what was said. In a muffled tone, Raoul heard Philippe say: "Thank you for meeting with me."
There was a long silence from the other end.
"I know you do not often take such council with those from outside your limits," he continued.
"No, Monsieur, I am always glad to meet with others if it concerns magic," the woman said in a gruff voice. "It is with those from this town which I do not which to meet with."
"You have a personal quarrel with Perros, then?" Philippe asked coolly.
"It has been a long time, filled with animosity," the woman replied.
Raoul wondered if Philippe had any previous knowledge of this quarrel. Or what it even was over.
"I am sorry to hear that," Philippe said. "Perhaps a disagreement with generations past is long overdue?"
"Bad blood remains in this part of the woods, yet it is all said merely in rumor."
Raoul could feel Philippe's tension from the other side of the door. This woman clearly had heard of wrong done at sometime in Perros, yet Raoul was certain that they should have known of it, being their family was the center of Perros' communications. How have they never seen this old woman before or heard of her discord?
Pressing his whole body closer to the door, Raoul made sure that he would be able to hear everything.
"Our story goes back many, many years ago," the woman said with pointed clarity.
"You make it sound as if I am directly included in this," Philippe said.
"Oh, but you are…
"Once upon a time, many generations ago, a young sorceress traveled throughout the land. She found great reception in the kingdoms she passed through, but especially in the kingdom of Trégor. She earned the affections of many as she taught the power of light magic and heeling. Children would tug at their mother's aprons to rush them to the nearest town for a chance to see her once again. Her name traveled far and wide, all across the land, except for one town in particular, nestled deep within the forests. Nohra wished to help all in Trégor because of their generosity to her, so she set out to the town of Perros to share her talents.
"Upon her arrival, Nohra received nothing but cold shoulders and turned cheeks as she passed through town. Perhaps it was Nohra's hopeful and naive heart convincing her that Perros was just shy that made her stay. So she wandered through the town, seeking a kind family to give her shelter.
"As she approached the first cottage in the secluded, yet beautiful town, Nohra knocked on the door to be greeted by two young children. The eldest, a girl of eight summers, welcomed the sorceress inside and brought her tea. In return, the sorceress charmed the children with her skills. The two children delighted in her magic, thrilled by her tricks to the eye. They clapped and cheered at each display, begging for Nohra to perform more. As their parents entered, they pulled their kin away, shielding their eyes from her powers. Nohra tried to explain her intentions, but the parents kept their ears deaf to her words and pointed her out the door.
"So Nohra continued searching for another place to stay. The second cottage she came across was much smaller than the first. So Nohra knocked on the door and was greeted by two young boys. They ushered her inside and offered her tartelettes and a cozy chair. In return, the sorceress taught the boys a sample of her skills in healing. The two children delighted in her power, thrilled by her manipulation of scrapes and scars. They gasped and gawked at each display, begging for Nohra to perform more. Yet as their parents entered the room, they sent their boys away, denying them the chance to learn. Nohra tried to explain her magic, but the parents kept their eyes closed and pointed to the door.
"And Nohra left another cottage, discouraged by the unwelcoming nature and lack of open minds within Perros. This time, she traveled deeper in to the forest, wandering until she found the smallest cottage of them all. As she knocked on the door, she heard the commotion of four children as they opened the door. Three girls and one boy looked out to her and welcomed her inside, offering her bon bons and une cafe. In return, the sorceress delighted the children with her magic. The four children were moved by her talents, thrilled by her conjuring and spells. They squirmed with delight, begging for Nohra to perform more. But as their parents entered the room, they called to their young ones, sending them to their room to keep them safe from manipulation. Nohra tried to explain once more her art, but the parents turned her away, removing her from their shelter.
"As Nohra walked back to the village's square, she was greeted with disgust as towns people pointed and snickered at her. She covered her face with her cloak, trying to pass without conflict, when a man walked toward her. The parents of the first two houses she visited stood behind him as he approached, crossing their arms and whispering amongst each other. Meanwhile, the man turned his hand out in her direction.
"'Sorceress,' the man addressed. 'You have struck fear into the hearts of those who reside in Perros. Your witchcraft is not welcome here.'
"'It is not witchcraft that I practice,' Nohra replied. 'It is powerful, but all magic can be used for good.'
"'Yet all magic has its price,' the man said. 'We do not accept you here in our village and we must demand that you leave here at once!'"
Raoul held his breath from the other side of the door. The silence within the room was haunting as he leaned into the door, praying his weight wouldn't reveal his prying. It seemed Philippe too was intent on the conversation, removing his brother's fears of being discovered. The old woman sounded rejuvenated as she recited the tale, as if she herself were going back in time to relay this ancient story.
"The evil spirit of this town lingers," the woman said, breaking the silence.
This information peaked Raoul's interest especially. So Philippe had called this woman for consultation about the spirits of Perros after all! The possibility of information took hold of Raoul's imagination for a moment.
"You have no grounds for such assumptions," Philippe retorted stubbornly.
"Do you not have a spirit problem, Monsieur?" the woman replied.
"I do not see what that has to do with a story."
"Is the lore of the spirits surrounding your village not important to you?" the woman condescended. "Are the stories they tell not of urgency to your people?"
Philippe again was stunned with silence. It appeared that Philippe was not prepared for what information she had to offer about their village.
"Before leaving Perros, Nohra bestowed a curse on the entire village," the woman said.
"A curse?"
"The first time she had ever used dark magic—"
"Dark magic—?"
"A parting gift, for the ugliness shown toward those outside of your precious limits of Perros."
"Madam—"
"Heed the warmth of a selfish home, where smiles are charming, but the heart is forged. Where living is such by daily routine and never by reigning one's wildest urge. For all who reside in this unkind village of begrudged souls and mindless dismissal, for like the fantômes that stalk this land, your cries may plead and beg for rest, but your minds shall forever remain enslaved. Take caution, all travelers from any kingdom or state, for the mask of a fantôme shall be Perros' fate!"
The air escaped from Raoul's lips as he realized he wasn't breathing. Ice seemed to pour out of his lungs like he was a child dared to jump into the river during winter. He imagined Philippe on the other side of the door; fists curled on the head of the table, head down, eyes clutched shut, back hunched to keep him as strong as he could possibly manage. Surely, Philippe hadn't known about this curse, yet it washed over both of the brothers from either side of the door. It all seemed to familiar somewhere within their hearts.
"What does it mean?" Philippe asked, trying to maintain his composure.
"It is the cost of a spirit's life. They once lived like everybody else. It is their deeds that keep them in a soul-less form, damned to wander an eternity with no repentance," Nohra said.
"I know of the spirits!" Philippe cried. Raoul flinched at the sound his fists pounding on the heavy oak table. He knew they were his brother's, though he heard no protest came from the old woman. Philippe took in a deep breath of air. "How does this curse affect the people of Perros?"
The woman laughed.
"All who die in Perros shall stay in Perros…"
"I don't understand—"
"Their souls shall never know the Maker. They are to become spirits within these woods."
Raoul felt his nerves grow bitter cold as he realized the fate of all who resided in Perros. He and his brother, his friends, the townspeople… every person who called Perros home would succumb to the very thing they were taught to fear. Their death would trap them in the woods surrounding their town, leaving them as heedless versions of their former selves.
Oh, to think of his own father and mother! No longer with their sons in the present life, yet unhappy and dazed within the after life. Raoul cringed at the thought of how they must be now: unfeeling and mindless, seeking a feast upon the living folk within the village they helped build…
And then there were the villagers themselves. Where would the people of Perros be now had they known their fates? Would they so willingly raise their kin given these terms? Could anybody escape the fate that was now revealed?
The agony Philippe felt was shared from where Raoul crouched behind the door.
"Then we are all doomed to become spirits," Philippe said, quietly reflecting to himself.
"And you have been for so long…" the old woman taunted.
"Where is this Nohra now?" Philippe demanded.
"This was all a very long time ago, Monsieur," the old woman said.
"Then how do you know of this wretched ordeal?"
"Contrary to the belief in Perros, story does exist beyond these woods. People fear travel to Perros for this very reason."
"There must be some way we can lift this curse?" Philippe asked, rounding on the woman eagerly. "What can I do?"
"You have no hope of altering the future your ancestors set for you," Nohra said. "The curse was created by the unwelcoming hearts within this secluded town. It appears that it has only grown worse over time."
"But how have we not known of any of this?" Philippe asked.
"Albert de Chagny was unkind to many; spreading his hatred for outsiders amongst the people who he presided over. He knew of the curse, but he did not tell a soul about it. Instead, he covered it in fable and took it to his death, where it was lost with his memories," the old woman said.
"de Chagny?" Philippe challenged.
"Your ancestor," the woman said. "That is why this is also your story."
"Then there is no way to reverse this spell?" Philippe asked solemnly.
"Only a heart with true kindness," said the woman.
Philippe was quite for a moment, surely running his hand over the backside of his neck. He often did this when he was in deep thought or distress.
"Then my wife —"
"Lost to the souls of the woods, like everybody else," the woman said over Philippe's choked voice.
Raoul heard his brother take in a sharp breath of air. Not only was there the tragedy of his poor mother and father to think of, but the untimely death of his wife as well. The power of the curse on Perros left no one untouched. The evening feast of la Toussaint would now be to feed the hungry mouths of their departed, rather than keeping faceless creatures all at bay. The village would not be pushing the spirits away, but longing to reconnect with them, with no avail.
Past Raoul's thoughts, he heard Philippe ask with determination "Is there a way to communicate with her?"
The old woman laughed.
"I know that is why you asked me here," she said.
Pressing his ear to the door's crease, Raoul feared he would fall inside, he sat so close. Yet with just one statement, it made sense why this meeting was happening at such an odd hour. Philippe did wish to speak with the spirits!
Eagerly awaiting response, Raoul shook with anticipation.
"Well?" Philippe challenged.
"Your wife would not know you," the woman said slyly.
Philippe's fist hit the table again. Raoul leaned back from the door and sat his back against the wall, his head leaning back to look up toward the ceiling. Both brothers felt a deep moment with each other without realizing it. Raoul could feel for his dead parents and the fate of all others who would ultimately meet this same fate, while Philippe could think of nothing but his young wife. Even if he were to die himself, neither would recall the love they shared together.
"As for your concern with the young girl…" the woman intervened.
Raoul raised his head from the wall and turned to look at the door. He knew this conversation was inspired by Christine Daaé's encounters with the fantômes of Perros, but was she really a concern in this conversation?
"Yes," Philippe said, bringing himself back to his veritable composure. "Do you think she can communicate with the spirits? Is there any way perhaps that she—"
"I do not doubt the possibility in her ability to speak with spirits," she said.
"Then could she be of use to our town at all?"
"No," the woman said. "I only think it best if she were completely removed from the picture."
Raoul pushed himself away from the door, shaking his head in disbelief. Shuffling echoed from behind the door, sending Raoul to his feet, running toward the stairs across the hall. He barreled over each stair in his way until he got upstairs back to his bedchamber and slammed the door. He cursed himself as he went for the window, but soon realized it never mattered. Philippe seemed unaware as he slowly ushered the woman back out toward the trail, lost in the haze of his racing mind.
"Thank you for your journey and your time," Philippe said as they passed the threshold.
"Anything to be of service, Monsieur," the woman said cooly.
Raoul leaned in over the window ceil.
"Forgive me, but I do not believe I caught your name," Philippe said.
"Oh, a title is not necessary," the old woman laughed. "You may simply Madame."
"What if I shall need council with you again?" Philippe asked. "How shall I send for you?"
"I will always be available," the woman said. "I will always listen for the town of Perros."
Philippe bowed his head with gratitude and took hold of her elbow to assist her out to her horse. He led her nearly to the head of the trail when the old woman stopped and held up her hand.
"Please, Monsieur, I shall be quite alright getting to my horse from here," the woman said.
"Very well," Philippe said.
He released the woman's arm and turned quickly, walking toward the door to his home. As he reached the front door, his voice echoed as his muttered to himself, "how could anybody place a curse so wicked?"
Raoul's attention continued to stay on the old woman.
She lit the wick on her lantern and mounted it onto the saddle of her steed. As Philippe walked back inside of the door's frame, the woman turned and smiled cunningly before pulling her cloak far over her head. As she mounted her horse, she appeared young and strong, like she were a young woman again. The horse reared and she maintained her composure as she turned the horse toward the south and kicked him into a gallop.
With that, the old woman disappeared.
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