The Phantom regarded her, as she displayed the first black rose.
"This is only the first step, my dear. Let me tell you how it all began…"
Was he an apparition? How was he floating in a mirror? She approached the mirror to listen more intently; perhaps seeing her up close would convince him that she was not the woman he thought her to be.
"The Opera was my creative property and domain. The managers who ran it disagreed, at first. When they refused to pay the salary I required, they were plagued by rather dangerous incidences that threatened their profits. They soon learned that the payments were well worth my cooperation…and the productions proceeded mostly unhindered."
The mirror shattered, and Aveline ran from the room, protecting herself from any stray shards that might fly toward her. She heard a crash and the sounds of glass hitting the wooden vanity and carpeted floor. When the room went silent, she dared to look back in.
The mirror was almost completely broken, save for a few jagged pieces that still held onto the frame. Apparently the mirror had hidden a secret passage that the Phantom had been standing behind. He was no longer there, but she had a strong feeling that he had destroyed the mirror to show her the next path she was to take.
She was about to follow him, but out of the left corner of her eye, the ballroom entrance invited her to see what it held. Putting off finding the next black rose, she strode over the sand and ice to see what lay inside.
Although it was poorly lit, Aveline could make out the figures of four mannequins. Three of them were suspended from the ceiling. The fourth was next to a large object and sat toward the back of the expansive room. When she approached it, she found that it was a mechanical puppet in the guise of an organ grinder. The puppet's hands rested on the organ's wind-up lever, and a mechanical pet monkey sat atop the musical instrument with a cup.
I can't imagine that it will work without payment, but I don't have any coins with me.
She frowned and focused her attention on the other three mannequins. One was attached to the chandelier at the center of the ceiling, both of its arms linked above its head. If it was possible for a dummy to be held captive, this one most certainly was. The other two were a fair distance away from the bound dummy, linked together as if in the middle of a dance. One obviously represented the Phantom. It had similar attire and a full face mask, as well. The other looked…
Oh my! Is that supposed to be my mother? What is going on?
The mannequin had long brown curls that cascaded down its back. Aveline circled underneath it, amazed to see such a strong likeness of her mother, of herself, on a life-sized doll. She turned, again, toward the detained puppet.
So…that's supposed to be my father?
The overall tableau was disturbing and confused her even more. She had never met this "Opera Ghost" before. She had never stepped foot in the Paris Opera before today. Could the Phantom possibly have mistaken her for her mother? What part could her family possibly have to play, in his plan for revenge?
Shaking her head, she left the ballroom and her questions behind, continuing onto the next part of the theatre.
Maneuvering through the vanity in the ladies' lounge was incredibly difficult in her long dress. She swept as much of the glass and debris away with a mop she found in the corner of the room, but she still had to be wary of stray shards. Climbing through, she found that there was a small loft behind the mirror. Shelves housed bottles of wine and liquor, along with blueprints and maps of the Opera House. A stagehand's notes were messily strewn about. She stepped down onto a fixed stool, confused as to why anyone would keep such a small workstation. When she turned around to face the room she had come from, she gasped.
The mirror pieces that had remained in the frame had reflected the contents of the room back to her on one side. From the side she was currently on, the mirror was nothing more than glass, showing everything that the lounge had to offer.
What kind of perverted person sat here?
Although she wanted to blame the Phantom, the stage notes, assorted props, and blueprints that cluttered the area suggested that the spying area had originally been used by some voyeuristic crew member or manager.
She looked around and noticed a ladder that led to a lower level. She prayed that she would find a way out somewhere under the stage. Perhaps she would find a blanket, or a long-forgotten winter coat. Surely the Opera House was not on the outskirts of Paris. If she could find a way off its extensive grounds, there would have to be another business or at least someone's home close by.
Once she was down the ladder, she found herself in a basement, of sorts. There was a huge Egyptian sarcophagus, several crates that hid boxed-up contents, paintings, scrapped set pieces, and other miscellaneous items, all packing the underground space. On her right was an open doorway, but the mess inside was hardly worth picking through. It was clearly a prop room, with an array of ghastly and fantastic sights to behold. Her eyes flitted around the room and landed on yet another black knight.
How is it that I have only found black knight chess pieces? Where are the other pieces and how many sets are there?
She took the piece and left the messy room.
The next door she came to was to the left, not far from the prop room she had just perused. Opening it, she saw another mess of items…mostly instruments. She looked up and saw that she was in the orchestra pit. Here, the musicians would have played, unseen by the audience, even as they created the magical ambience to accompany what was going on onstage.
She rolled her eyes and looked around her. No matter how well she played, she could never hope to be a part of any production. It was not suitable for a lady such as herself to indulge in any type of working endeavor. The most she could hope for was that, after marrying, her husband would be lenient with her free time, and she could teach others a craft that she herself had mastered. Aside from playing casually for parties they would inevitably attend, her talent would never see a wide audience. A female singer could be a star. A female pianist…could be a teacher.
Only the best of the best could hope to play for symphony halls as a concert pianist. Madame Durand had done precisely that. She had forgone marriage and a family to follow her dream, for it was nearly impossible to find a gentleman that would abide a wife that completely outshone him. Aveline would be expected to marry within the aristocracy, and keep her passion for music as nothing more than a hobby.
The piano that had dutifully played for what must have been a multitude of productions was in shambles in the center of the room. Other warped instruments laid on top of it, and the charring in this area was worse than most of what she had seen in the Opera House.
The fire must have originated here. Or somewhere nearby, she mused.
When she turned away from the sad piano, the Phantom's imposing figure stood in a mirror before her, watching silently. The almost full-length looking glass showed that his loose slacks were tucked into black boots that covered his shins. It gave him an even more intimidating appearance, as if he was some Persian or Arabian black knight.
Her hand impulsively went to her pocket, clutching the chess piece that lay inside.
A black knight…a white king. A fighter with limited resources and a wealthy dignitary. The Phantom…and…my father?
Misinterpreting her action, the Phantom interrupted her train of thought.
"Have you brought me another black rose, my sweet?"
She shook her head at the masked man.
"Then prove your love to me, and bring me another black rose!"
Aveline's eyes narrowed in defiance.
"I will not! I do not love you…I don't even know who you are!"
"I am Erik," the figure simply stated.
"Well, Erik, thank you for finally introducing yourself properly. Allow me to do the same. I am Aveline. I cannot be who you think I am, for I have never set foot in Paris, let alone the Opera House, before you brought me here! I demand that you let me go!"
"BRING ME ANOTHER BLACK ROSE!" the Phantom ordered.
Aveline's confidence wavered at his yelling. She stepped back away from the mirror and slowly walked out the door. Behind her, she heard him call out to her.
"This time, I will NEVER let you go!"
She shuddered at the threat, and continued down the hallway. She needed to find another rose.
At the end of the underground lair was an elevator. A dummy of Hamlet was stationed to its right, while another doorway appeared to its left. The lift was chained and padlocked shut. Sighing at the dead end, she instead made her way to her right, through the last doorway on the floor.
She was now, apparently, under the actual stage. Some Egyptian-looking props were housed in mini-lifts that still awaited instruction. Suspended above her was a large metal box, about the size of a casket. Her eyes followed the ropes that held it down to a lever on the right of the open area. Careful to stay out of the path of the large object, she pulled the lever and watched the box as it was lowered down to her.
It settled heavily on the ground which caused her to wonder at its contents. All she had been hoping for was a flower. Unfortunately, the container was secured tightly. It looked as though it was missing a key component from the seal it was emblazoned with. Whatever was absent had been a round disc. She pursed her lips and thought about how to go about finding the missing article.
Well, this is some type of pulley system for sending props up to the stage level, she deduced. Perhaps what I need is a prop?
It was as good of a place to start as any. Aveline returned to the quagmire of the prop room and began to rummage through its contents. She found a couple of disc-shaped items, but neither were large enough to fit in the seal. When she came upon a larger golden disc with an image of the sun, she prayed that it would be what she was looking for.
The disc, indeed, fit perfectly into the slot. She heard a grinding noise, as if something underneath was unlocking. When she opened the seal, she was met with a most gruesome sight.
Two skeletal hands clutched a black rose. She screamed, and she did not go unanswered.
"The stagehand, Joseph Buquet, had to die. I did what I had to, for our love."
Seeing the rotted corpse strengthened her fear of the Phantom. If Erik was a murderer, then she would do whatever she had to, in order to ensure her safety.
"The Angel of Music is waiting for you," the voice called to her.
Squeamish at what had to be done, Aveline whimpered as she tried to pull the second rose as swiftly as the dead hands would let her. Once it was freed, she fled the coffin and ran back to the Phantom.