Two Phans with Ridiculously New-Age Names Who Are Also Best Friends and Sisters Buy A Swan Bed with Christine's Ring in the Headboard Then Decorate Their Room with Christine's Mirror While Listening to the PoTO Soundtrack and Are Mysteriously Thrown Back in Time and into Erik's Lair: A REALISTIC View of What Might Happen

Possibility #1

Terra Lune and Raven looked at each other nervously as hazy smoke began to pour out of the mirror. Something was definitely happening – only they did not know what. Clinging to one another in fear, the felt the room changing and morphing around them. Suddenly, the air was bone-chillingly damp and their summer-bare feet stood on rough stone. Therosy light which had graced their shared bedroom at home was gone, replaced by a dimness to which their eyes could never quite adjust. They could make out one another's silhouettes and some strange, unidentifiable glimmerings.

Sharpened by lack of vision, their ears took in new and strange sounds. Gone was the familiar hum and buzz of computer and electric lights. Only two sounds, faint and eerie, disturbed the silence. Precariously close to their right they heard the soft sound of water lapping the stone shore. This sound was almost soothing, compared with the loathsome sound of squeaking which could only be produced by rats.

"Wh...whe...where are we?" stammered Terra Lune, clinging shakily to her best-friend/sister's solid body.

"I don't know," whispered Raven, afraid to speak aloud. "By a lake?"

Terra stared into the dark; her eyes wide and bulging with fear and the effort of peering through the dimness. "I think I see a light over there...I think."

Raven looked in the direction indicated. "There is." She stood frozen for a moment before realizing that standing here, shivering into hypothermia was useless. "Let's go."

She took Terra's hand and led her slowly, cautiously over the uneven ground, towards the light. After an agonizingly long while, it became apparent that the light was of the flickering sort that indicated...

"Candles?" whispered Terra.

"God, I hope so," murmured Raven. "Candles mean people."

Hope thus kindled, the two teenagers forged forward. The sight that met their astonished eyes was beyond strange. The light was indeed candles, dozens of them, huge yellowish things set in massive candelabras. No romantic table-candles were these; these were designed to give light for hours. Their light illuminated a pipe-organ built cunningly into the craggy rock face of whatever cave they'd landed in. Never had they imagined that a real pipe-organ would be so massive. It loomed before them, better than 14 feet high.

Though timid, Terra was the brighter of the two. The candles and the organ were 1+1, and when she added them together, they equalled...

"We're in his lair!" she whispered excitedly. "We're in Erik's lair!"

Raven blinked, gobsmacked. She was about to reply in the affirmative, when a hissing, angry voice did so for her.

"Oui, vous etes..."

The strange candle-lit scene fell swiftly into darkness as the punjab lasso dropped around her neck, snapping it effortlessly. Terra tried to scream, but no sound emerged. She tried to run, but terror had nailed her feet firmly to the floor. The last thing she saw before death claimed her was the white mask and skeletal frame of her fantasies.

Possibility #2

"Wh...whe...where are we?" stammered Terra Lune, clinging shakily to her best-friend/sister's solid body.

Raven looked around at their strange surroundings. A small cottage stood in the middle of a stone island...in the middle of a lake...in a cave...lit by candle light?

"I don't know, Terr." She examined the pipe-organ covered in parchment. She pulled gently out of her best-friend/sister's grasp. Walking slowly, as if in a dream, she explored the area near the organ. Her discoveries there left no doubt.

"You aren't going to believe this, but I think we're in the Phantom's lair..."

"No way!" exclaimed Terra, delighted. "There where is he?"

"I don't..."

(Please note, when Erik speaks, it is always in French. I just don't want to fiddle with correct translations – it's beyond the point.)

Raven was interrupted by an angry, yet undeniably beautiful male voice yelling in French.

"Who are you! What are you doing here! Get out of my home!"

Neither girl knew a lick of French beyond the numbers and colors and a few other basics from French I. This voice sounded nothing like their teacher's voice. The accent was thick, the pronunciation was fast, and the phraseology was colloquial. The girls whirled to face their aggressor.

It was, without a doubt, Erik. He stood in the door way of his cottage, staring at the two intruders. At first, he had believed that two little street urchin boys had somehow found his way into his home. When they turned around, however, a different truth was revealed. These were females. They were in his home...and they were shamelessly dressed – the strange fabric they wore covered very little; their knickers clearly defined the place where their legs met their private areas. He was certain they wore no corsetry. Their hair was his only clue as to their origins. Cut above their shoulders and worn straight, they were clearly escapees from some institution. Caution would be required; such people could be dangerous, even women.

Erik abruptly ceased his tirade. They were staring at him with bizarre grins plastered across their plain faces.

"Madwomen," he muttered to himself. Wanting to preserve their current pleasant demeanor, he adopted an air of absolute courtesy. "Mesdames," he said with a flourishing bow, "Do come in and take some tea..."

Seeing the sudden change of their host's attitude from fury to gentlemanly politeness, the girls' hearts expanded.

"Look!" whispered Terra Lune, "He likes us!"

"Yeah, he's smiling. He keeps talking. What do you think he wants?" Raven whispered back.

Erik sighed with exasperation. He recognized the language as English, one he did not speak fluently. This would make things so much more difficult.

"Mesdames," he said, speaking as slowly as he could, "would...you...like...some...tea?"

The two girls stared at one another.

"He wants us to go inside. Look – he's pointing!" Raven giggled like a small child.

"He said 'the'...that means tea in French. He's inviting us to tea! Come on, Raven!"

Terra grabbed Raven's hand and dragged her into the cottage. Erik closed the door and watched the two girls dash in front of him. They swerved into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table. Erik stared. Their lives at the asylum must have been strange indeed, if they believed one took her afternoon tea in the kitchen. Even the English knew to take their afternoon tea in the parlor. Still, he did not want to cause any sort of insane behavior by challenging them.

Quickly and quietly the unwilling host lit a fire and boiled the water. He steeped the tea (adding his own special seasoning) and brought it, along with sugar and cream and an assortment of bread and cheese, to the table. The two little hooligans dumped sugar and cream into their cups and poured gargantuan servings of tea. They blew directly on their cups to cool the boiling liquid before grasping the delicate cups in fisted hands. They took the bread directly in their hands, cut large chunks of cheese and placed the cheese between slices of bread in a crude sandwich. Crumbs fell on the table and floor. Erik tried not to stare, but their behavior surpassed barbarism.

"Why is he just sitting there?" Terra wondered aloud, after half her tea was gone.

"He's staring at us," the more sensitive of the two replied, swallowing a bite of bread and gulping the remainder of her tea. "We must be doing something..." suddenly, she giggled. The world had begun doing lazy loops around her head.

Terra watched in consternation as her friend smiled a truly goofy, limp smile and slid down in her chair. Her own vision was blurring and her head began to feel impossibly heavy. Had Erik...? She was asleep before she could finish the thought.

Erik watched with relief and satisfaction as the two strange young women fell asleep. His laudanum supply was diminished, but he could well bear the pain of his 'condition' in return for the returned sanctity of his sanctuary. Swiftly, he set out to contact Madame Giry, who made the arrangements he ordered.

Terra Lune and Raven woke some hours later with raging headaches. Each found herself in a plain bed with a thin straw mattress in a large cold room. Someone had changed their shorts and t-shirts for long, rough nightgowns. There were strange sounds; ravings and gibberings from their fellow inmates in the asylum...