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 girl stood, clad in nothing but a white formfitting strapless corset and flowing long skirt, and bound with ropes at her wrists behind her back, and also 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 caged newfound 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 sighed again.  Of course, I know he won't show mercy, to me or anyone associated with me or my people.

Just then, she was snapped out of her reverie by the corrupt, lustful Frollo, who sauntered toward her and waved a flaming torch before her eyes, obviously to try to intimidate her.  She gazed back at him worriedly, her heart hammering against her ribs in panic.

"The time has come, Gypsy," Frollo informed the young helpless Roma, glaring ominously. "You stand on the brink of the abyss. Yet even now, it is not too late, for I can save you from the flames of this world, and the next.  Choose me—or the fire."

Upon hearing this ominous ultimatum, Esmeralda forgot about her panic for a fleeting moment, and her expression changed to a glaring frown as she retorted bluntly, "If those are my only options, then I'd rather burn in Hell—and take you with me!"

And then, as she expected, Frollo frowned deeply at her, snarling in his throat with his teeth clenched in anger.  However, she did not expect his next action, because he slapped her in the face a literal minute later, leaving a slight stinging bruise slowly forming on her cheek, before he glared back toward the crowd, which included his caged prisoners.

"The Gypsy Esmeralda has refused to recant!" he 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, while telling herself, My last moments on this green Earth.  My last breaths of air.  And my last chance to say goodbye.  And as soon as she had speculated that her end was near, she kept her gaze fixed on Phoebus, who gazed back at her with tears in his eyes, and whispered sadly, "I love you, Phoebus.  Don't forget me."

But then, on that note, Phoebus nodded in response to the girl's barely audible wish, which caused her to avert her own tearful gaze.  He must have heard me, she realized.  I'll miss him too—and Quasimodo.

"The hour has come," Frollo suddenly announced loudly, breaking into poor Esmeralda's reverie again.  "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 corset skirt.

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 her senses slowly shut down, one by one.  Her vision was first to fade, followed by her hearing, and then her last three senses—smell, taste, and touch—all faded out almost simultaneously.  However, before she completely blacked out, she managed to gasp out what she believed to be her final words.

"Goodbye, my dear sweet friends."

With a pained groan of effort as she forced her eyes to flutter back open, Esmeralda noticed that she seemed to be lying on a floor somewhere, but if she was expecting anything at this point, it was not the void of white light that now seemed to surround her on all sides.

"Huh?" she wondered to herself as she slowly picked herself up onto her knees.  She looked all around her, seeing nothing but a void of white—and on that note, she realized that her surroundings had completely changed.  "Where am I—and why is there nothing to see or hear in this place?"

She took a tentative deep breath, confirming to herself that she was no longer surrounded by fire and smoke, nor was she bound to that pillar anymore.  Struggling back onto her feet, she rubbed the back of her neck with another pained groan, muttering to herself, "Something tells me I'm not in Paris anymore."

But then, she gasped when she thought of something and hesitantly looked down at herself.  However, as soon as she saw that she was still clad in the corset skirt she remembered wearing before ending up... wherever she was now, she breathed a sigh of relief.  Thank goodness I still have my modesty, she told herself.  But where exactly am I?

Just then, she gasped again when she felt something oddly solid suddenly appear at her feet.  Instinctively, she looked down to see what looked like a mangled, bruised form of Frollo, but minus his ceremonial vestment and cap.  His seemingly completely immobile body was curled up in a fetal position, and covered in cuts, gashes, and bruises.

"What happened?  What is going on?" she wondered aloud.  A moment later, she gasped as she remembered, "The Notre Dame courtyard!  Frollo!  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 protested to no one in particular, 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 later stopped in mid-rant, finding herself unable and unwilling to finish her thoughts or accept the truth.

But just before she could form another single thought, 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 nodded solemnly. "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 worriedly, "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, she remembered the mangled, immobile form of Frollo that had suddenly appeared at her feet.  "And what in Heaven's Light is this... broken body?" she demanded.  "It looks like Frollo, but... something tells me it's not."

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

"Excuse me—what?" Esmeralda breathed with a wrinkled nose of confusion.

"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 twisted my arm behind my back and smelled 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 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."

"Um, OK," Esmeralda responded uncertainly.  "So, what does this all have to do with me getting recently burned alive by Frollo?"

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

"Wait—part of him 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."

"Um, OK," Esmeralda responded uncertainly.  "So, what does this all have to do with me getting recently burned alive by Frollo?"

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

"Wait, what?!" Esmeralda cried in disbelief.  "I had Frollo's darkness on my soul—and he just destroyed it?!"

In answer to her incredulous translation, Yubel simply nodded, and then Esmeralda looked back at the broken body resembling Frollo at their feet.  "So this mangled form that looks like him, is this—?"

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

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

"That choice, my friend, is entirely yours," Yubel replied enigmatically, placing a hand on Esmeralda's shoulder before fading away into white mist.

The choice is mine? Esmeralda repeated to herself.  What could she have meant by that?  But a moment later, a hole in space opened before her eyes, where images of her days in Paris began to play out.

Her first confrontation with Frollo's soldiers, who accused her of thievery and disturbing the peace...
"All right, Gypsy, where'd ya get the money?" the soldier demanded as he reached for the upturned hat where she had collected coins within.
"For your information, I earned it," she replied hotly as she snatched the hat away.
"Gypsies don't earn money," the soldier mocked her as another one grabbed her at the arm from behind.
"They steal it," the second soldier added.
"You'd know an awful lot about stealing," she challenged with a pointed glare as she struggled.
"Troublemaker, eh?" the first soldier accused.
"Maybe a day in the stocks will calm you down!" the second soldier declared.
But as soon as the two of them had begun to close in, she immediately retaliated by kicking the first one away, giving herself enough room and time to yank herself free from the grasp of the other, after which she ran off and escaped into the streets.

Coming to Quasimodo's aid when he was humiliated during the Feast of Fools...
"I'm sorry," she apologized to him gently upon seeing him tied down like a wild animal.  "This wasn't supposed to happen."  She removed the wrap from around her skirt and began dabbing at the stains on his cheeks.  "Let me help you."
"You!  Gypsy girl!" Frollo suddenly called.  "Get down at once!"
"I will, Your Excellency—just as soon as I help this poor boy," she responded.
"You would dare openly defy justice?!" Frollo challenged.
"You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those most in need of your help!" she retorted.
"Silence!" Frollo ordered loudly.
"JUSTICE!" she cried out louder in return, her fist raised high.
"Take another step toward him, and it will be your last!" Frollo threatened.
"Then it appears that we've crowned the wrong fool," she called out, loud enough for all in the courtyard to hear as she tossed the crown of the King of Fools toward the minister.  "The only fool I see... is you!"
And then, with one swift motion of a slash from her knife, she cut Quasimodo free.

Phoebus's remarks of being impressed by her skills, when they battled in the halls of Notre Dame...
As he reached for her wrist to likely place her under arrest, she grabbed him by his tunic, throwing him to the floor while also grabbing his sword and drawing it from its sheath at the same time.
"Easy, easy, easy," he stammered uneasily, warily eyeing his sword, which she pointed directly at his neck.  "I just shaved this morning."
"Really?" she quipped ominously.  "You missed a spot."
"Listen, I don't want to make trouble," he tried again.  "I just want to apologize."
"For what?" she demanded, but then she was caught off guard when he slide-tackled her off her feet, long enough to reclaim his sword.
"That, for one thing," he told her.
She glared with a warning frown as she struggled back to her feet.  A second later, she spied an iron candle holder rod and grabbed it to use as a substitute weapon, clashing with him as he defended with his sword.
After a few moments of trading blows back and forth, he remarked, "You know, you fight almost as well as a man."
"That's funny," she shot back as she used her rod to shove him back a few inches.  "I was just about to say the same thing about you!"

And, finally and most importantly, giving Quasimodo her homemade map to lead him to the Court of Miracles as thanks for helping her evade arrest by Frollo...
"Thank you for your kindness and help," she told him with a warm smile.
He returned the warm smile, just as the angry shouts of the soldiers could be heard in the distance, seemingly approaching their location.  "Frollo's coming," he warned her.  "You should go—now!"
"Wait—one last thing," she insisted, before removing the odd pendant from around her neck and handing it to her new friend.  "You were kind enough to give me sanctuary.  Should you ever need sanctuary, this will show you the way.  Just remember—'When you wear this woven band, you hold the city in your hand.'"
And with that said, she gave him one last hug before she ran off into the dark streets of Paris, toward the unknown.

My precious friends, Esmeralda recalled reverently, her eyes closed and her hands crossed and placed over her heart.  I wouldn't be the woman I am today, had it not been for them.  She wanted to cry, but when she reopened her eyes, she instead frowned decisively.  And they all still need me, she told herself.  I cannot—will not—leave them!  Not yet!

With that decision made, she nodded firmly, before the white light that surrounded her suddenly engulfed her, causing everything to fade back to black.

Esmeralda gasped, feeling her chest heaving as the cool, crisp air of the early morning rushed into her lungs once more. The choking sensation of the thick black smoke was gone, now 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 the edges of her corset skirt singed, but otherwise relatively 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, glaring 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 cumulative 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, he screamed at the possessed Esmeralda, at the top of his lungs, "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, I will purge you from this world!" he roared, bringing the heavy steel down in a lethal arc meant to cleave the girl 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."

"No! 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 Name of 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 this world to harm, but merely to help 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 semi-intangible, 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 mused, 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?"

"Uh, 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," 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, that power of hers—Nightmare Pain—has some very serious side effects," Esmeralda explained.  "It forces anyone it touches to relive all of their negative experiences—and I do mean 'all'!"  She grunted in pain as she clutched at her chest before finishing with, "As for the side effects, it seems the more people who get affected by that magic, the more I have to suffer.  In other words, I'm feeling everything they're feeling—and all at once!"

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

"Very bad," Esmeralda affirmed, the strain on her voice growing heavier.  "Obviously, my mortal mind and heart can't handle this 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.