liberated these festering forces. She may have inadvertently torn the lid off Pandora’s box. Tia Dalma is not one to experience chills of fear rippling up her spine, and yet the sensation invades her now, as unwanted and unfamiliar as disease. The very location of the labyrinth, below the earth, its proximity to the realm of fire and darkness that has fed her all these years, allows a faint possibility to enter her mind: she could be standing atop an access to the Underworld. A portal to the kingdom of Hades himself—one so powerful, so ultimate, that she would be made to look the infant by comparison.
She wants no contact with Hades. Briefly, she considers running. Tia Dalma—flee like a frightened child? Unthinkable! Inexcusable! And yet…the urge is there, ever present and gnawing her brain raw.
She lays one bare foot in front of the other. She has carved her own way through this murky world, no doubt troubling the likes of Hades—assuming powers she might have been better off leaving to others, misusing those powers, abusing, torturing. He might smile at what she has done. Pain could raise a chuckle. But in the past she has forgiven, nurtured, nursed, and assisted those in need: violations, all. She has allowed herself to act—dare she even think it?—human. If caught, she will be punished. Pulled deeper into the realm through the cavernous cracks in the earth that spread before her.
She must hurry! A power such as this knows no compassion, has no sense of time. Should he find his way out, she—and perhaps those she seeks to liberate—will be fugitives from his all-encompassing wrath for time immemorial. Never safe, always on the run.
The solution is plain to see: she must free her associates and search for a way to cause an even bigger earthquake, something to fold the dirt and stone back in on itself, closing off the very chambers she has now exposed.
But for now, her skin crawling, she marches steadily forward, only yards from the nearest exposed tunnel. She must peer inside—which goes against every fiber of her being.
She must free the Beast.
I T’S NOT JUST THE OTHER K EEPERS —Philby, Maybeck, Willa—who are in the back of Maybeck’s van. Brad is there too. Brad, the Imagineer technician responsible for all the studio green-screen work involved in digitizing the Keepers’ actions and speech to create their holograms. Brad, who worked with them during the upgrade to DHI version 2.0, stabilizing their holograms. He’s maybe thirty now, but still has a youthful face, dark hair, and thick eyebrows. He works calmly but intensely, making sure that each Keeper is comfortable lying down on a few yoga mats.
Finn is shoulder-to-shoulder with the fiercely intelligent and sometimes brooding Willa. At their heads, Maybeck lies sideways across the van. Next to him, and immediately behind the front two seats, is Philby, also sideways on the floor.
Brad climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. “For the past three years,” he says, “it’s been mostly exercises. Right?”
His words trigger memories and images for Finn, most of them good. He pushes past the pain of losing Dillard to the harrowing events of the cruise, and past those to the long year spent battling Maleficent in all four of the Disney World parks. As a team, they’ve come through a great deal together and grown closer as a result. They battled back the dolls of It’s a Small World and endured the rage of Judge Frollo; they’ve had crushes and learned to distinguish them from real feelings; they’ve experienced loss, rage, determination, and frustration as they’ve battled the Overtakers.
The reality-TV crew that broadcast their actions without their knowledge during the second half of the cruise has come and gone. For a time, their show drew the highest ratings of any program on the Disney Channel. The only good that came of it—if you can call it good—is that television executives in L.A. noticed Charlene’s
She wants no contact with Hades. Briefly, she considers running. Tia Dalma—flee like a frightened child? Unthinkable! Inexcusable! And yet…the urge is there, ever present and gnawing her brain raw.
She lays one bare foot in front of the other. She has carved her own way through this murky world, no doubt troubling the likes of Hades—assuming powers she might have been better off leaving to others, misusing those powers, abusing, torturing. He might smile at what she has done. Pain could raise a chuckle. But in the past she has forgiven, nurtured, nursed, and assisted those in need: violations, all. She has allowed herself to act—dare she even think it?—human. If caught, she will be punished. Pulled deeper into the realm through the cavernous cracks in the earth that spread before her.
She must hurry! A power such as this knows no compassion, has no sense of time. Should he find his way out, she—and perhaps those she seeks to liberate—will be fugitives from his all-encompassing wrath for time immemorial. Never safe, always on the run.
The solution is plain to see: she must free her associates and search for a way to cause an even bigger earthquake, something to fold the dirt and stone back in on itself, closing off the very chambers she has now exposed.
But for now, her skin crawling, she marches steadily forward, only yards from the nearest exposed tunnel. She must peer inside—which goes against every fiber of her being.
She must free the Beast.
I T’S NOT JUST THE OTHER K EEPERS —Philby, Maybeck, Willa—who are in the back of Maybeck’s van. Brad is there too. Brad, the Imagineer technician responsible for all the studio green-screen work involved in digitizing the Keepers’ actions and speech to create their holograms. Brad, who worked with them during the upgrade to DHI version 2.0, stabilizing their holograms. He’s maybe thirty now, but still has a youthful face, dark hair, and thick eyebrows. He works calmly but intensely, making sure that each Keeper is comfortable lying down on a few yoga mats.
Finn is shoulder-to-shoulder with the fiercely intelligent and sometimes brooding Willa. At their heads, Maybeck lies sideways across the van. Next to him, and immediately behind the front two seats, is Philby, also sideways on the floor.
Brad climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. “For the past three years,” he says, “it’s been mostly exercises. Right?”
His words trigger memories and images for Finn, most of them good. He pushes past the pain of losing Dillard to the harrowing events of the cruise, and past those to the long year spent battling Maleficent in all four of the Disney World parks. As a team, they’ve come through a great deal together and grown closer as a result. They battled back the dolls of It’s a Small World and endured the rage of Judge Frollo; they’ve had crushes and learned to distinguish them from real feelings; they’ve experienced loss, rage, determination, and frustration as they’ve battled the Overtakers.
The reality-TV crew that broadcast their actions without their knowledge during the second half of the cruise has come and gone. For a time, their show drew the highest ratings of any program on the Disney Channel. The only good that came of it—if you can call it good—is that television executives in L.A. noticed Charlene’s
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