The Roma and Her Demon, Part 1: The Prophecy

The rising sun cast an orange glow above Paris to signify that the dawn was near, but no one was outside of their own leisure; all the citizens were mandated to gather in the square in front of Notre Dame by Judge Claude Frollo.  The self-proclaimed Minister of Justice had ordered all citizens to this location in order for them to witness what he had dubbed his "Ultimate Justice".

Meanwhile, on a raised platform in the center of the square, a young dark-haired, olive-skinned Romani woman stood, clad in nothing but a white formfitting strapless skirted corset, and bound by ropes at her arms and waist to a thick wooden pillar surrounded by firewood neatly stacked and piled high beneath her bare feet.  She was Esmeralda, and during Frollo's attack on the Court of Miracles and subsequent raid, she was hand-chosen by the minister over the other Romas to serve as an example of what happened to those who, according to his very words, opposed the truth.

"The prisoner Esmeralda has been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft," Frollo announced, reading from an unrolled parchment, with Esmeralda and the onlooking citizens gazing anxiously.  "The sentence—Death!"

Esmeralda averted her anxious gaze as more firewood was stacked and piled around and beneath her bound form, catching a glimpse of her new caged ally, Phoebus, as he glared toward the stage from her right.  Phoebus—I know how he must feel, she realized.  He and Quasimodo risked it all to warn me and the others in the Court of Miracles.  She sighed inwardly as her gaze shifted upward, toward the bell tower of Notre Dame, where she knew Quasimodo was securely confined.  And now look at us both—totally at Frollo's mercy, as is Quasimodo up there.  She glared inwardly at the corrupt, lustful minister, who approached her and taunted her by waving a torch before her eyes, as if to intimidate her.  Of course, I know he won't show mercy, to me or anyone associated with me or my people.

"The time has come, Gypsy witch," Frollo told the young helpless Roma with an ominous glare her way. "You stand on the brink of the abyss. But fear not, for I can save you from the flames of this world, and the next.  Now, choose me—or the fire."

On this, Esmeralda forgot about her panic for a fleeting moment, and retorted with a blunt, "If those are my only options, then I'd rather burn in hell—and take you with me!"

And as she expected, Frollo clenched his teeth in anger and frowned deeply—but she did not expect his next action, as he slapped her in the face, leaving a slight stinging bruise on her cheek before turning back to the crowd, the imprisoned Phoebus, and the caged Romas.

"The Gypsy Esmeralda has refused to recant!" Frollo called out. "Now, witness the punishment all those who dare to defy justice will suffer."

Esmeralda cast another sidelong glance toward Phoebus, who still glared toward Frollo, and thought to herself, My last moments on this Earth.  My last breaths of air.  She smiled sadly and mouthed, "I love you, Phoebus.  Don't forget me."

"The hour has come," Frollo suddenly announced loudly, breaking into poor Esmeralda's reverie.  "And now, the stars are in perfect alignment.  Thus, I now fulfill my duty and send this unholy demon... back where she belongs."

Esmeralda cringed as the minister lowered the torch to the woodpiles surrounding her bound form, setting them ablaze. "No!  NO!" she whimpered, softly and desperately, as the flames licked at the edges of her skirted corset.

The intensifying heat of those roaring flames reached the bound Esmeralda's face and slowly caused her to begin sweating excessively.  Then, the smoke eventually followed, rising upward, higher and higher, surrounding her, obscuring her vision, stinging her eyes, making her tear up.  Eventually, she dissolved into a fit of violent coughing when that same smoke wafted up her nostrils and descended into her throat and lungs.

"I can't... breathe!" Esmeralda choked out, feeling her burning throat grow raw from her desperate but vain attempts to get a clean breath within her cage of fire and smoke.

Another moment passed before she began to feel herself slowly slip away, starting with her vision, her hearing, and finally her senses of smell, taste, and touch, in that order.  However, before she completely blacked out, she managed to gasp out what she believed to be her final words.

"Goodbye, my dear sweet friends."

Esmeralda's eyes fluttered back open as she groaned in effort and picked herself up onto her knees, but if she expected to see anything, it was not the void of white light that now surrounded her on all sides.  "Huh?" she murmured as she regained her bearings.  "Where am I?  And why is there nothing to see or hear in this place?"

Struggling back onto her feet, she rubbed the back of her neck with another pained groan and looked down at herself.  When she saw that she was still wearing the skirted corset she was clad in when Frollo had lit the fire to burn her alive, she sighed to herself and thought, Wherever I am, at least I was left retaining my modesty.

She looked all around her, seeing nothing but a void of white.  She tentatively took a deep breath, realizing that she was no longer surrounded by fire and smoke, nor was she bound to that pillar anymore.

"What happened?" she wondered to herself.  A moment later, she gasped as she remembered, "The town square!  All that fire and smoke!"  But as soon as it all came rushing back, she quickly made her conclusion regarding her new current location.

"Oh, no, no, no!" she told herself, shaking her head furiously, in an obvious attempt of self-denial.  "It—it can't be!" she began to hyperventilate.  "It's not possible!  I—I can't be—!  I—I'm not—!"  She immediately stopped in mid-rant, finding herself unable and unwilling to finish.

But just as she was about to form another syllable, she heard a sudden soft voice, seemingly containing the dual register of both male and female, calling out to her.  "Esmeralda..."

"Huh?" Esmeralda demanded, looking all around her in the void she now occupied, but seeing no one.  "Who's there?"

"Behind you," the disembodied voice responded, and the young Roma turned to look behind her.  That's when she saw... it.

An odd figure stood a few inches away.  Its skin was a mauve pink color, while the irises of its eyes were mismatched colors of red and blue.  Its hair, half white on one end, and half purple on the other end, framed its face and was parted down the middle.  It was clad in a formfitting black bodysuit that hugged its feminine bodily shape.  One of its hands was red with sharp fingernails, while a vertical third eye grazed its forehead.

Esmeralda recognized this being, as it was her mentor when she was a child, until going out to battle the first war against the Romani, but, mysteriously, had never returned.  "Yubel?" she realized, eliciting a nod from the new being.  "What's going on?  Why is it I can see you?"

"You're a brave woman, Esmeralda," Yubel told her enigmatically. "You've become everything I had hoped you'd be."

Esmeralda smiled upon hearing these words—but then, an uneasy thought crossed her mind.  "Wait a minute.  Forgive me for asking this, but... you are... dead—right?"

Yubel smiled back. "Yes," she replied softly.  "As you know, when you were younger, I left you to battle in the first war against the Romas."  She sighed.  "However, you must also know that I was the first casualty within."

Esmeralda paled upon hearing such confirmation as she prompted nervously, "Then... am I dead too?"

"Yes—and no," Yubel replied with an enigmatic smile, causing Esmeralda to cast a puzzled gaze at her. "Only part of you is dead."

"'Part' of me?" Esmeralda echoed.  "What do you mean, 'part' of me?"  But then, a moment later, she spied a bruised, mangled form of what seemed to be Frollo, lying at her feet while curled up in a fetal position.  "And what in Heaven's Light is that?!" she demanded.

Yubel followed the girl's gaze, also seeing the mangled figure, and told her, "'That' is something entirely beyond either of our help."

"I'm sorry—what?" Esmeralda breathed with a puzzled frown.

"Let me start at the beginning," Yubel told her.  "Do you remember when Frollo assaulted you after you'd run into Notre Dame for sanctuary?"

"You mean, when he grabbed me from behind and ran his nose through my hair?" Esmeralda muttered darkly, with a shudder of disgust.  "I will never forget that."

Yubel lowered her gaze and explained further with a sigh.  "Well... by simply coming in contact with you, it basically caused his cellular mental imprint to become one with your own cellular makeup."

"Wait—part of him now lives in me?!" Esmeralda translated incredulously, disgusted by the thought.

"It did," Yubel corrected. "It was only destroyed moments ago, when he burned you at the stake."

Esmeralda gazed at her quizzically.

"There is a Romani prophecy that has been passed down since before you were born," Yubel went on.  "It states plainly, Evil must destroy its own evil, and once it does so, only true, unadulterated justice will follow."

"Uh, OK," Esmeralda responded uneasily.  "So, what does this have to do with me recently getting burned at the stake?"

"The fire that engulfed you during that attempt on your life is what purified Frollo's darkness, which had clung to your soul," Yubel related.

"Wait, I had Frollo's darkness on my soul—and he just destroyed it?" Esmeralda realized, and Yubel nodded.  "So that mangled body that looks like his, it must be—"

"The darkness from Frollo's imprint—yes," Yubel confirmed.

But then, one last thought crossed Esmeralda's mind.  "Hold it—you mentioned he made an 'attempt' on my life," she remembered.  "So, does that mean I'm not completely dead?"

"That, my friend, is entirely up to you," Yubel replied enigmatically, placing a hand on Esmeralda's shoulder before fading away into white mist.  Another moment passed, and the white light that surrounded the young Romani woman engulfed her once more, causing everything to fade back to black.

Esmeralda gasped, her chest heaving as the cool, crisp air of the early morning rushed into her lungs. The choking sensation of the thick black smoke was gone, having been replaced by a combination of the sharp, metallic scent of ash and a roaring heat that now rapidly moved away from her.

Her eyes slowly fluttered back open as she felt the blinding white void of the afterlife recede and vanish.  Instead, she was again staring down at the stone courtyard of Notre Dame, still bound to the wooden pillar, but the ropes binding her wrists were charred, snapping effortlessly as she pulled her arms forward a moment later.  Below her, the makeshift bonfire was still ablaze, but now the flames seemed to actively recoil from her skin, leaving her skirted corset singed but entirely untouched by the heat.

At the sight of such a scene, the square had fallen dead silent.  The hundreds of Parisian citizens who had gathered to witness an execution were now frozen in sheer, unadulterated shock. Mothers clutched their children, guards dropped their pikes, and a collective whisper of, "A miracle..." began to ripple through the terrified crowd.

As for Frollo himself, he stared fearfully at Esmeralda, his face entirely drained of color. The torch—now barely sustaining ignited embers anymore—had slipped from his grip, clattering against the stone. His eyes, normally filled with cold, calculating malice—now wide with a rare, genuine terror, for to him, the woman spared by the flames meant to burn her to death was no longer a mortal to be broken, but now, she was a living testament to his own failure.

"Impossibility..." he choked out, his voice trembling as he gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword until his knuckles turned white. "The fire—it does not spare the wicked!"  He whirled to face his soldiers and shouted, "Men!  Re-light the pyre!  Destroy the witch!"

However, none of the soldiers dared to budge.  Instead, they all stared at the blazing wood, and then up at Esmeralda, who stood amidst the embers with her dark hair blowing in the wind, completely unsinged, unharmed. The Romani prophecy had been fulfilled; the dark imprint Frollo had left upon her soul had been burned away by his own malice. Evil had destroyed its own evil, leaving only pure defiance behind.

With a final crack, the weakened pillar snapped, and the revived, unharmed Esmeralda stepped forward out of the ashes, her gaze fixed directly on Frollo's pale face.  However, her gaze was no longer her own, but now that of Yubel, as the irises of her eyes now glowed with the mismatched colors of red and blue.

And then, before anyone could make sense of her survival, Esmeralda’s body convulsed as a collective gasp ripped through the square of Notre Dame.  Next, a sudden, violent aura of dark energy flared outward from her bodily form, scattering the remaining embers of the pyre. The crowd shrank back in horror as her smooth, olive skin rapidly shifted into a sickly, mauve-pink hue. Finally, a sharp, burning pain split the flesh of her forehead, and with a terrifying tear, a monstrous, vertical third eye snapped open above her brow, glaring out at the masses with an unholy intensity.

"Claude Frollo..." Esmeralda regarded the man as she lifted her head, looking directly toward him, but when she spoke, her natural voice was instantly consumed by a dual-layered echo—her own tone entwined with a deep, haunting, and unearthly masculine-feminine voice that shook the very foundation of the cathedral.

"Your so-called 'Ultimate Justice' is nothing more than a monument to your own rot," the overlaid voices of Esmeralda and Yubel boomed, vibrating through the chest of every terrified citizen. "You sought to consume this young Roma—this kind, innocent woman, in the flames of your own hatred, but, you have only burned away your own tether to her very soul.  Now, the darkness you left within her belongs to us—and on this day, we reject you!"

Frollo stumbled backward against the stone wall of the main entrance of Notre Dame, his hands clawing at his crucifix as he stared at the demonic manifestation before him. The absolute authority of the Minister of Justice had evaporated in a single, terrifying instant, now having been replaced by the judgment of a power that was far older than all of Paris itself.  But a moment later, he recovered and made his decision—one that everyone who was still currently caged watched with interest, eager to see how it would play out.

His face twisting into a mask of pure, fanatical rage as he tore his ceremonial sword from its scabbard, the minister screamed, "DEMON!" and charged through his scattering guards, the blade raised high. "I know not why you speak this way to me, but I vow to you, you will be purged from this world!" he roared at the possessed Esmeralda, bringing the heavy steel down in a lethal arc meant to cleave her in two.  However—

Clang!

—instead of striking its intended target, the blade struck a barrier of shimmering, violet energy just inches from Esmeralda’s face. The shockwave of the impact rattled up Frollo’s arms, nearly dislocating his shoulders and forcing him back a step. He stared at the glowing shield in absolute disbelief. "What?!" he gasped, his weapon trembling in his hands.

"You claim to be a righteous man, seeking to destroy all that which is evil," Esmeralda's dual-layered voice reminded her enemy, "but now, this very hubris you harbor will be your undoing."

Frollo drew back in shock as the possessed girl’s third eye flashed with a malicious, glowing intensity and her dual-layered voice boomed once more, uttering two words dripping with ancient, vengeful malice. "Nightmare... Pain!"

And at that command, and with a sudden thrust of her arms, a torrent of roaring black flames erupted from Esmeralda’s body, swirling violently into the air before slamming directly into Frollo.  But, this dark fire did not char his flesh; instead, it seeped directly into his eyes, his mind, and his soul.

Dropping his sword in shock and desperation, he clutched at his head and screamed in anguish, as a chorus of a thousand agonizing screams echoed inside his brain. The spectral visions of every innocent citizen he had ever locked away, every home he had burned, and every life he had broken flashed before him in vivid, torturous detail. He fell to his knees on the cobblestones, weeping and clawing at the earth as the psychological weight of his own sins crushed his sanity.

"See for yourself all the innocents you have tormented, all the lives you have ripped away, all the pure souls you have condemned," Esmeralda’s merged voice echoed over his pathetic, groveling form. "Today, Judgment Day is not upon this kind Roma; it is upon you."

"What?! NO! STOP IT! Don't make me see!" Frollo shrieked, pressing his palms hard against his eyes. The black flames of Yubel’s nightmare continued to dance in his pupils. He rolled across the cobblestones, desperately trying to escape the horrific visages of his past victims that tore at his conscience.

"You use the One God as an excuse to justify your actions," Yubel told the anguished, screaming man through Esmeralda's body.  "But now, you must see for yourself the real truth."

"Esmeralda!  No!  Stop!"

A heavy, desperate cry echoed suddenly from above as Esmeralda—and Yubel—looked upward.  Swinging down from the grand archway of Notre Dame on a thick bell rope, the hunchback known as Quasimodo landed heavily on the stone courtyard. He ran forward, his eyes wide with a mix of intense relief and absolute bewilderment at her transformed appearance.

The sound of Quasimodo's voice pierced through the dark energy suffocating the square. Esmeralda’s third eye violently blinked shut, her sickly pink skin fading rapidly back to its natural, olive warmth. She stumbled backward, gasping for breath as the dual-layered voice vanished.

"What?  Quasi?" she breathed, her own voice finally returning. She stared down at her trembling hands, then looked over at the groveling, weeping Minister of Justice. Horror washed over her face. "What is going on?  What am I doing?  Why is my old friend suddenly communicating through me?"

Quasimodo stopped in his tracks, his head tilting in confusion. "I'm sorry—what?  Old friend?"

But a literal second later, before Esmeralda could try to explain, the air beside her warped.  Strands of dark, spectral light coalesced, and Yubel's true form manifested into physical reality right next to her. The tall, sharp-clawed, split-haired entity hovered just inches off the ground, her dual-colored gaze settling gently onto the frightened bell-ringer.

"What in Heaven's Light?!" Quasimodo exclaimed.

"Please forgive me, young Hunchback," Yubel spoke, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "I have not returned to harm, but merely to settle old scores."

Quasimodo’s jaw dropped at the sight of the newcomer, his mind racing back to the dusty, forbidden texts he would normally and secretly pull from the cathedral’s deepest archives. "Wait," he murmured.  "I remember reading something about a being with three eyes—somewhere in a story about the Spirit Realm.  She was called a personification of evil pleasure, because her name sounded like a contraction of two German words, those for pleasure and evil." He gasped, his eyes darting between Esmeralda and the towering spirit. "You must be her! You're... Yubel?"

Yubel tilted her head, a sharp, enigmatic smile playing on her lips as her dual-colored gaze locked onto him. "Your education far exceeds the tomes in your bell tower, young Hunchback. Yes—I am Yubel."

Quasimodo eyed Yubel with an amazed gaze as he hesitantly reached out toward her.  But then, a thought crossed his mind.  "Hold on," he stammered, stepping closer but keeping a protective eye on Esmeralda. "Last I'd heard, you'd died in the first war against the Romas.  According to the texts, you were its first casualty."

Meanwhile, Esmeralda looked down at her hands, which still held a faint, tingling warmth from the dark fire she had just unleashed, thanks to Yubel's power flowing through her. "Well, now she's back," she explained softly, her voice steadying as she looked up at Quasimodo. "And somehow, she's become one with me."

Yubel floated a fraction closer, her sharp-clawed hand resting gently near Esmeralda’s shoulder without making physical contact, and explained, her third eye gleaming faintly with a purple glow. "Death is rarely the end for a spirit bound by a promise.  It was Frollo's hatred that created the catalyst, but it is Esmeralda's pure soul that gave me anchor.  Now, the two of us are intertwined."

Quasimodo gazed from Esmeralda to Yubel and back.  One form stood before him fully corporeal, the other partly ethereal, and yet, both were now one and the same.  And as such, he decided, "In that case, Yubel, since Esmeralda sees you as an ally, then I also see you as one."

But then, all three of them were caught off guard when the familiar roaring shriek of Frollo suddenly cut into their conversation.

"SOLDIERS!  SEIZE THOSE REBELS!  ARREST THEM!"

Esmeralda, Yubel, and Quasimodo turned to see that the minister had finally dragged himself up from the stones, his face still twisted in lingering agony.  Now, his frantic screams had broken the spell over the guard, and a dozen heavily armored men drew their swords, advancing on all three of them.

Esmeralda gripped Quasimodo’s arm. "Um, Quasi, Yubel, don't hold me to this, but I think that's our cue to retreat."

"Agreed," Quasimodo responded with a short nod.

But just then, before the soldiers could close the distance, a loud splintering sound echoed across the square. With a roar of defiance, the blond Captain Phoebus shattered the wooden bars of his holding cage, disarming his closest captor in a single, fluid motion.  He swept his newly acquired heavy broadsword through the air, knocking back two guards and carving a path straight toward them.

"Huh?" Esmeralda breathed.  "Phoebus?"

"Ah, so he's the Evil One's Captain of the Guard," Yubel noted with a wry grin and a playful wink at Esmeralda.

"Former captain," Esmeralda corrected her.  "He renounced Frollo after refusing to kill innocent people that had been condemned to death for the sole belief of harboring Romas."

The threesome watched as Phoebus continued to fight his way to the cathedral entrance, calling out, "Esmeralda, I have no idea why you're not even singed after that barbecue you were trapped in, and right now, I don't even wanna know!"  He parried a vicious strike from a guard and kicked him squarely into the advancing line. "Now go! I'll hold some of these guys off!"

Yubel hovered over the group, her third eye scanning the closing ranks of Frollo's men as the square erupted into total chaos.  Between the overwhelming odds Phoebus faced and the duo of charges now under her protection—the Hunchback named Quasimodo and her old childhood Romani friend—she found herself blossoming into an unnatural, unnerving grin as she observed the scene before her.

"He who was once loyal to Evil now seems to have chosen new loyalties—a heel-face turn, if you will.  Fascinating," she observed, and then decided, "I'll give him a hand."

"'Give him a hand'?" Esmeralda repeated in wonder, as Yubel floated directly over the advancing line of Frollo's guards.  "Wait, what?"

"Esmeralda, what is Yubel doing?" Quasimodo wondered.  Then, before anyone knew what was about to happen, the spirit's third eye snapped open, flashing a blinding, violet light that illuminated the entire front of the cathedral.

"Uh-oh—I think I know what she's up to," Esmeralda realized, before hearing the same familiar words uttered by Yubel, while using her body as a power conduit, when they attacked Frollo as one.

"Nightmare... Pain!" Yubel commanded.

And at those words, a shockwave of dark, phantom flames erupted outward, sweeping cleanly over Phoebus's head and blasting straight into the wall of armored soldiers.  All the men engulfed by these flames screamed in utter terror, dropping their weapons as the black fire forced them to relive their deepest, most agonizing psychological fears on the spot.  Several guards collapsed to their knees, weeping, while others scattered blindly into the panicking crowd, completely breaking their formation.

Meanwhile, Phoebus blinked in utter astonishment, staring at the groveling soldiers and then up at the floating, pink-skinned spirit. "Uh, OK," he muttered uneasily, shaking off his shock and tightening his grip on his sword. "No way am I gonna ask questions about that later."

But as Yubel's power spread, washing over all of Frollo's guards, Esmeralda suddenly groaned in pain and buckled forward, her leg giving way as she fell heavily onto one knee on the cold cobblestones. She clutched her head within her hands, her breathing coming in ragged, pained gasping grunts as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

"Esmeralda!" Quasimodo cried, immediately dropping to his knees beside her and placing a large, gentle hand on her trembling shoulder. "What's the matter?  What's wrong?"

"Yubel," Esmeralda strained out simply, her voice shaky and thick with exhaustion. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut out the echoes of terror still ringing in her ears.

"What about her?" Quasimodo asked.

"Remember when I mentioned that she's one with me now?" Esmeralda reminded him.

"Uh, yes," Quasimodo replied uneasily.

"Well, apparently, I'm also required to feel the aftereffects of her magic," Esmeralda explained.  "That power of hers—Nightmare Pain—it forces anyone it touches to relive their worst experiences."  She grunted in pain as she clutched at her chest before finishing with, "But it seems, the more people affected by Yubel’s magic, the more overwhelmed I become.  In other words, I'm feeling all of those experiences, and all at once!"

"And I'm guessing that's a bad thing?" Quasimodo prompted as he wrapped one of Esmeralda's arms around his shoulders and hoisted her back up onto her feet.

"Very bad," Esmeralda affirmed, with the strain on her voice growing heavier.  "And obviously, my mortal mind and heart can't handle such an extreme load!"

Yubel drifted down beside the two of them, her third eye closing as her expression softened into grim realization. "This was the price of our bond, Esmeralda," she murmured softly, her dual-layered voice tinged with a rare note of regret. "Since my power feeds on agony, and because our souls are now stitched together, whatever I inflict, you must also endure."

Phoebus rushed back to them, keeping his sword drawn as he looked back at the sobbing, broken guards who were still reeling from the dark magic. "We can't stay here out in the open," he urged, scanning the plaza. "Frollo's gonna snap out of it pretty soon, and more guards will be coming.  We've gotta get back inside Notre Dame, or we'll be sitting ducks!"

As Quasimodo scanned the chaotic scene having unfolded before him, he nodded shortly and then gently lifted Esmeralda up, scooping her securely into his short but stout arms.  "Phoebus is right, Esmeralda," he related firmly.  "We need to get you to safety."

"No arguments here," Esmeralda murmured weakly, forcing a faint, sharp smile as she leaned her head against the bell ringer's shoulder, her face pale as the lingering echoes of Frollo's guilt finally faded from her mind.  "Based on what's happening to me now, Yubel and I need to work something out—and quick, before I go brain-dead or have a heart attack, whichever is more painful."

Quasimodo cast a wry grin toward her and advised, "Just between you and me, I've had nightmares about both incidents, and you don't want to suffer either one."

Despite her extreme fatigue, Esmeralda couldn't help laughing at the response as, with a final glance at the weeping, incapacitated soldiers and a frozen, trembling Frollo, Quasimodo bolted toward the grand wooden doors of Notre Dame while carrying her.  Beside them, Yubel floated silently, her dual-colored eyes scanning the perimeter as Phoebus guarded their rear.

Fortunately, they were able to slip inside the heavy sanctuary within less than two minutes, the church's massive doors slamming shut behind them to muffle the outdoor chaos.