CHAPTER 1: PROLOGUE

The Chagny Estate, Paris, 1883

Crying is weeping accompanied by intense emotion.

Christine's eyes seemed to be made of glass. Motionless and fixed on the window. There was ice on it, a subtle frost pattern. She did not see it; her gaze was blank as she was lying on the couch. She wasn't crying.

All the time in her mind were echoing only three words. Don't give up.

xxx

The vaults of the Opera Garnier, Paris, 1883

Erik wiped the keyboard of his organ. It wasn't dusty at all. He wiped it because it was his habit. And an excuse to come to his study, to look through his old music notes, scribbles, drawings and designs, trying to force himself to any form of creativity.

His mind was worn-out; no new ideas, no inspiration. Shallowness.