Ah! I'm so excited! So, this is my first 'phanfic', but not my first fanfic, if you catch my drift. Please tell me what you think and review! This story, while there is a form of higher power in the beginning, is not religious or supernatural in any way. Though, if you'd like, you can picture the "higher power" which you will be introduced to in this chapter, as some kind of religious figure. This will be one of the only, if not the only, chapter(s) where the "higher power" is mentioned, so if you don't want any sort of religious figure, then hopefully you can get past the first chapter and continue on with the story.
On a side note, if anyone would like to make a cover for this story, then please, by all means, do so! Whoever does, if anyone does at all, will have this story dedicated to them and will be mentioned in the beginning of every chapter (so it is a good way for aspiring authors on this site to get there name out! Hint, hint!). If you do decide to make a cover, please PM me and tell me that you are doing so, that way I can give you my email address and it will be easier to get the cover to me.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Phantom of the Opera. That privilege goes to a man far more imaginative than I….
The silence that settled around Erik was all he needed to know he was truly alone. When Christine had kissed him, though it felt nice and he wished he could kiss her once more, it was not what he expected from his 'true love'. For so long he had been pining over her, teaching her, perfecting her, but now he realized that he only felt the need to do those things because of her voice. She had the voice of an angel, and he knew, deep down, that that was what really attracted him to her. It was not her personality, nor was it her appearance, though she was beautiful. Erik knew that the only reason he grew to love her was because of her angelic voice. It was with those thoughts, however depressing they were to Erik, that he let his angel go, knowing she would never be truly happy with him. Now, though, as he sat on the floor next to the swan bed, he contemplated what his next move should be. Maybe he should stay and be caught by the angry mob he could vaguely hear, or maybe he should find an exit and make his way into the unknown. Neither option sounded particularly pleasant at the moment, but he had to make a decision fast.
Using the last of his strength, he pushed to his feet and moved to his most secret escape route. Pulling aside the curtain, Erik was momentarily surprised at his appearance, forgetting that his mask lay forgotten on the floor somewhere. His eyes traced his deformed face, letting a scowl mar his already hideous features, before an intense rage filled him to the core. Grabbing the nearest object, which happened to be a candelabra, Erik stepped to one of his many mirrors. Sneering at his image, he let out a single cry, not unlike that of an angered animal, and brought the candelabra down onto the fragile surface of the mirror. His scowl turned into a crazed smirk, one Erik knew was frightening to even the bravest of men. Moving to the next mirror, taking care to avoid gazing at his face, Erik once more smashed the glass, taking a sick kind of pleasure in the way the glass shattered. Once he was satisfied that the mirror was completely broken, he moved to the last mirror in his so called 'home'. Raising the candelabra once again, Erik brought the object down for the last time, striking the glass and shattering it immediately. Before he could take any pleasure in his handy work, however, the world around him faded to black, the only sound was that of the mob getting closer to his home.
Erik had to admit that he had been knocked unconscious many times before. Most of those times were when he was younger and still held captive in the cage, but he still remembered what it felt like to be unconscious. This time, he thought, was different, and he didn't like it. Instead of feeling like he was floating, it was as if he was standing in a dark room, unable to see, even with his peculiar eye sight. Turing and trying to figure out where he was, Erik was startled out of his panic by a voice. "Do not fret, my child, you are safe." Erik nearly growled at the disembodied voice, not liking the fact that he was not in control.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" He spat, his voice shaking with anger.
"I am no one and everyone. I am nowhere, but I am always around. But you are not here to learn who I am. No, you are here to get your second chance." The voice said. Erik, try as he might, could not locate where the voice was coming from, his own frustration growing to a new height.
"Do not speak in riddles. I demand that you tell me what you want with me, now!" Erik clenched his fingers into a fist, needing to release some of his rage, if only a little. The voice, still seeming to be nowhere, but everywhere at the same time, let out a sight.
"You are here for your second chance, Erik." Erik opened his mouth to speak, more like scream, once more, but the voice cut him off. "Let me finish, child. During your life, you made many wrong choices, some worse than others, but one choice in particular is the one I am referring to. Your entire life you have yearned for love, be it from your mother, your friend, or your romantic interest. You thought you found someone who could love you when you heard her voice, but you were wrong. Instead of choosing Christine, you should have chosen someone else. All you were ever meant to be to Christine was her teacher, and in time, her friend; never her lover. However, there was a girl you were destined to be with, but you threw it all away when you heard Christine. This woman would have loved you through everything, held you when you needed it, and accepted you when no others would. She was made for you, and you don't even know she exists."
Erik didn't say a word, too shocked to speak, but his mind was moving at a fast pace, trying to figure out if what the voice said was true or not. "W-who is she?" Stuttering out the question, Erik waited, impatiently, for the answer.
"She is your muse, your angel, your aria. She is your reason for living, and she is why you are getting a second chance, my child. Do not take this lightly. When you wake up, you will begin once more on the path of which you choose. Your choices will decide your fate, so choose wisely. Believe me when I tell you, Erik, that when you meet her, you will know." It took only a moment for Erik to comprehend the words from the disembodied voice, but in that moment, he felt himself start to wake up.
"Wait! I still have questions!" Whatever questions he did have, however, died on his tongue as he woke up with a gasp. Looking around quickly, Erik realized he was right to have remained quiet as most of the opera house was below him on stage listening to the announcement of its new managers. Sighing in annoyance, he leapt to his feet and prepared himself for what was to come next. Should he still drop the backdrop on Carlotta? Should he make Christine a star? He was unsure of what to do, but he had to make a decision and fast as Carlotta was throwing the first of her many tantrums. He almost wanted to laugh, but held it in, knowing he would be caught should he make a sound.
Averting his eyes, Erik saw the one person he was hoping to avoid; Christine. She was as beautiful as he remembered, her eyes wide with wonder, and Erik almost growled when he figured out why. She had just seen her precious fop for the first time. Moving his gaze away from the only figure who could break his heart in such a way, he found himself studying the rest of the group surrounding the stage. There were the actors, the chorus girl's, the stage crew, and the ballerina's, as well as the costume and set designers. One person caught his eye right away, mostly because of her hair. The bright red, curly hair was piled atop her head, still managing to stick out at odd angles, despite her constantly fixing the stray hairs. Her eyes, while too far away to see what color they were, were narrowed in frustration, most likely because of her hair. It was obvious to Erik that she was a ballerina, due to her outfit matching that of the other dancers. She stood off to the side, not really interacting with the other people on the stage, nor really paying attention to the spectacle that was Carlotta. She just was. Her hand flew to her hair once more, trying to pull the stubborn hair into the position she wanted, but that wasn't what caught his eye. Her hand itself was covered in charcoal, making Erik almost smile at the thought of a fellow artist, especially a female artist. Most female artists were looked down upon by the rest of society due to the stigma attached, but it was obvious she didn't care much for stigma.
Dropping his gaze from the lone figure, Erik glanced back to the center of the stage to see Carlotta preparing to sing the aria from Hannibal. Grimacing to himself, he moved quickly to the backdrop and let it fall. Smirking at the retreating figure of the, now, ex- prima donna, Erik glanced once more to the red head standing off to the side. Not wanting to be so near his angel, Erik moved to the edge of the stage, standing almost directly above the mystery woman. While she looked familiar, he couldn't, for the life of him, remember her name. Hearing Christine begin to sing made him want to cry, but before he could bring himself to flee the scene, a blonde girl moved to the red haired woman's side. Focusing on the two women, Erik didn't have to strain too much to hear they're words.
"Finally! Carlotta's gone and all it took was a backdrop falling on her! If I had known that, I would have done it myself long ago." The blonde moaned in fake agony. The red haired woman began to laugh, and Erik was sure he'd never heard such a beautiful laugh in his life.
"Oh Marie, you know you would have had to beat me too it!" His mystery woman replied. Erik let a small smile take over his features, her voice just as heavenly as her laugh.
"Oh please, Aria, you don't have a mean bone in your body!" Marie said. Erik held his breath in shock. Could it be?
Flashback
"W-who is she?" Stuttering out the question, Erik waited, impatiently, for the answer.
"She is your muse, your angel, your aria."
End Flashback
For all he knew, it could just be a very large coincidence, but was it? Could this woman, Aria, be the woman he was destined to be with? Gazing at the red haired woman softly, Erik knew there was only one way to find out; he would study her and determine if she was indeed his one true love, and maybe, just maybe, he would get his happy ever after.