Author's Note: This is not just a retelling of the musical Love Never Dies. This, though in many points parallels the story and references some of the songs, is a sequel to that of the book. I have taken it upon myself to imitate the writing style of Gaston Leroux for this adaption. There are many differences in my story that are not in the musicals. For example, you will see mention of The Persian who is a prominent character in the book. If you have read the book, you know how different this writing style is. So do not expect this to be the movies, is what I am saying.
A quick synopsis: Ten years after the Phantom of the Opera, Christine is married to Raoul and has a son. The Phantom, with the help of Madame Giry and her daughter Meg has acquired a freak show on the glamorous Coney Island, New York. When Christine is offered a chance to premiere in America, she has no idea it is none other then her Phantom who has sent for her.
"Oh, What a trick! What a trick!"
You may recall the peculiar happenings at the Grand Opera in Paris, France. A presence haunted the labyrinth from the day that the renowned song bird Christine Daae' took up residence in its halls. If you were to ask the Mlle. Daae' herself she would tell you it was her Angel, if you were to ask her lover, the M. Viscount de Chagny he would protest it to be a devil.
No matter this ghost's omnipotence, he was thought to be long dead. His torment of the young lovers over. The Persian, close to the ghost Erik himself, gave word of the corpse- decomposed from recognition- found with a gold ring around its finger found in the cellars of the old opera. The ring Erik had bestowed on his love Christine before she left. In this, the Persian was sure it had to be the ghost.
However, here I record the letters of the countess Christine herself, which tells a very different tale from the very night before she was to be wed to the viscount:
"Oh, that night, that blessed and cursed night! I can recall the melody of his voice just as clear now as then. That monster in the night. I left my home in Le Havre, at the word of the Persian who he trusted so, to come to his deathbed. The ring he gave me felt heavy and constraining, reminding me of his voice. That voice which filled me so! Ah, how I yearned for it. Though I would never confess.
"What a trick! What a damnable tick, Erik! To bring me back to you. You were not dead, but waiting in the night. I came to that lake, that glassy lake. The siren called to me, just as she had before. I fell to my knees, my knees! Trembling, crying, to come to that beautiful house again, to find you dead! I could not bear it.
"But as I cried, oh I should have known, you were there. I could not see a thing, the night black and moonless. I could not see you, but I heard your voice. That voice which fills me so! I reached out to the voice, to those ravishing refrains. And, oh forgive me Raoul, you touched me. You caught my hand in yours! Blind in the dark, I saw nothing but our music. Our music!
"I was weak, so weak that you had to carry me. Once more you carried me across that lake. But this time I felt no fear! Your voice caressed and calmed me. Your hands no longer the hands of death, but of a man! A man! I dare not repeat the confessions we uttered that night. Oh, poor Erik! How could I have left you!
"The night seemed to sigh, at last our feelings bared! I looked into your heart, Erik, my dear angel! You were whole and pure! Forgive me God, how I kissed you! What a trick, oh what a trick Erik! Were you just an apparition after all? For as I woke, ready to swear my love to you, ALAS! You were gone! Was it all a lustful dream? A dream I should forget? How I loved you! Oh, how I loved you!"
The Persian swore to the weeping Christine Daae', or properly, Countess de Chagny, that their Erik was dead and gone, in his very own kingdom. Far from accepting his words, she swore the Persian away. I tell you now that the countess was with child, ready to deliver in that moment. It could be heard through the walls as the Persian left, the Angel's student, with sobs in her voice, singing faintly his familiar melody. He worried that she may never recover from the Opera Ghost.
