A/N: Something has come to my attention that has both shocked and dismayed me. I haven't provided a disclaimer! So, here it is:

I fully accept the possibility that I do not and probably never will own rights to any work of Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay or Andrew Lloyd Webber.

There, I hope that's sufficient. Also, just a word to some of the reviews: It really tears me up that I have mixed reviewers, some who like one pairing and dislike the other. I know this sounds very susceptible, but I cannot really tell what the pairing is going to be, as it will give away the ending. All I'm going to say is that if you have read the tale of Masque by Edgar Allen Poe, the ending is…well….you'll just have to see. But I promise, my intentions really aren't to trick any of you into reading my story. On that final note, here's the next chapter.

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"Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen."
"The Haunted Palace" by Edgar Allen Poe

"If you think the outside is a sight, you will truly be inspired by what you see inside…"

It was the first glance of the Paris Opera that made her fall in love with it. The grand staircase, the impressing ceilings, the marble columns and colossal statues, everything drew her in and spoke to her in the most compelling of languages. Art.

She could not feel herself walking, being led by Raoul more deeply into the theatre. All she knew was the exquisite environment in which she became enchanted, not noticing the curious gazes from the Opera employees as she trailed by. Philippe made the smallest of coughing sounds whenever Christine found herself staring too long at the intricately painted ceiling, or smiling gawkishly at every turn.

When she finally came out of her reverie, they were in front of the managers' office at the end of brilliantly lit corridor, of where Christine had no idea they had come to be. They could hear voices coming from the other side of the closed door, one of composed nature and the other of deepest exasperation.

"Really, monsieur, it is nothing to be worried over..."

"Twice this month, Panaut! It seems only likely that they have not disappeared…"

"Really sir, do you think that so easily! By heavens, it is so easy to assume that it was simply I who am the thief, and not the ghost!"

There was a pause in the dialogue, one which seemed to drip with tension. Then, "If you could choose your wording as carefully as you do your post, surely your position would not be so cumbersome. You have a family to look after, do you not?"

"But of course, sir, of course!"

"Then I suggest you bring an end to blaming your actions on others. Good day."

While an unabruptness that threw the eavesdropping party back, a distraught man of short stature and balding red hair came rushing out of the office. With a curt nod to the two gentlemen and the lady, he hurried by without a word.

"Ah, Messieurs de Chagny! Quite the punctual pair you are!" Leaping up from behind a sturdy, well-fashioned desk was M. Debienne, one of the two current managers of the Opera Garnier. "A pleasure to see you both, as always is. And who, might I inquire, is this charming young lady?"

"May I present to you Christine Daae, your newest patron to the Paris Opera." Philippe did nothing to mention the fact that Christine and Raoul were engaged. Neither of them did anything to make this point across.

M. Debienne took her hand and kissed it in a gentlemanly fashion, smiling beneath his mustache. "A pleasure, mam'selle."

"The pleasure is mine, monsieur." Christine said brightly. She could feel Raoul gently squeeze her hand from behind. "If it is not too blunt to say, monsieur, your theatre is amazing. I have not been to a more beautiful place."

"A compliment unworthy of myself, surely, but a welcome one at that!" He gazed at the three, waving his hand as if to shake himself from his stupor. "Certainly you must have the grand tour! If it so pleases you, mademoiselle, I would be more than happy to have myself and M. Poligny take you around the theatre and show you how we run."

Christine's eyes twinkled. "It would be an honor, sir."

He smiled back at her. "As would it be for me. But certainly, someone like yourself has no interest in business affairs. Would you care to watch the rehearsals while we have an aggravatingly tiresome meeting?"

Raoul's eyes met hers and he nodded approval. Christine took the chance and helped herself out of the managers' office.

Her opportunity was a lucky one. With the managers of the Opera giving her a tour, she could not see things from her personal view. An innocent look around, that's all this is…

The theatre was as big as it looked from the outside. In little time she found herself passing various doors, some with singing coming from their mysterious depths while others ringing with silence. The thickening darkness was only penetrated by the gas lamps lighting the way, helping the girl in the otherwise pitch black. For some time she heard no sounds at all, which seemed hauntingly unusual, especially in a place where music rang throughout the walls every second of the day, rehearsals or no. She quickened her steps, fear gripping her tightly as her throat constricted. She tried to see ahead of her, but even with the lamps lighting the way she could not see a hundred feet in front of her.

When a noise sprang forth from somewhere around her, she stopped at once. Where was that sound coming from? She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it seemed to come from somewhere in the shadows. Icy cold terror wrapped itself around her as she looked around anxiously. Don't be silly. There's no one there.

"H-hello?" she called into the darkness. Her voice was young-sounding and meek, and she quickly tried again to eclipse her former uncertainty. "Is someone there?"

She gasped inaudibly. To her left her eyes spotted something manifest from the corner of the hall. Two luminous, floating orbs were looking straight at her. They were deeply golden, and had they not been of human height, she would have thought they had been the eyes of some poor stray. Her interest with the pair captivated her completely, and had she not heard another sound would she continue staring and approach them in curiosity.

She turned her head towards the sound and quickly back towards the golden light. It vanished.

"Hello? Who's there?" she spoke again rather rashly, her irritation prominent in her tone.

"Who are you?" a voice answered back contemptuously.

Christine's brows knitted together. "I asked first," she replied stubbornly. She didn't like the fact that a stranger that she couldn't see was toying with her. She felt embarrassed for her former fright and tried to cover it over.

"Yes, but you're not the one with the advantage here. You see, you cannot see me, though I can certainly see you. You have long, curly brown hair and a very pretty dress on…"

Christine smiled despite herself. It was the voice of a girl, possibly around her own age, she surmised. "Thank you," she called into the gloom, her voice gentle and polite.

"You're most welcome. Now, please state your name and your business here."

Christine couldn't help but comply, trying to keep her face straight as she did so. "My name is Christine Daae, soon-to-be Vicomptess de Changy. My business here is to inspect and take in a full account of the proceedings of the Opera."

Suddenly, from deep within the shadows came a girl with long, golden hair, wearing a light blue ballet costume with matching ribbons in her hair. She was indeed around Christine's own age, yet seemly smaller than her. Her eyes were sparkling, and her lips were in a charming smile. "See, that wasn't so difficult. My name's Meg. Meg Giry, daughter of Madame Giry."

Christine gave a small curtsy. "Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle Giry."

"Oh please" she scoffed, "call me Meg. I'm not quite the prima ballerina here, but I suppose I might be some day." Her eyes danced with mischief as she smiled wickedly. "Now come along, Christine Daae, there's much to see of the Opera! You are merely by the dormitories, and there's nothing remotely interesting here." Taking a hold of Christine's arm, she linked hers and walked quickly, as if they had been friends for a long time.

"Now tell me, Christine, what are you doing here all alone?"

Grateful for the companionship of someone other than Raoul and Nicole, Christine allowed herself to be questioned by the unknown ballerina. "Raoul, that is to say, Monsieur Raoul de Chagny, is currently in a very important meeting with the Count and M. Debienne."

They turned a corner, Meg's hold on her ever so tight. "If you are to be married to Raoul, then why are you not in the meeting with them?"

Christine looked stricken. "Because I'm a woman, and women don't get involved in business!"

Meg looked skeptical. "Is that so?"

Pausing to look at her, Christine frowned. Her voice was slightly twisted with doubt. "Of course…I mean, you would think so, right?"

Meg merely looked amused at her companions' mystification. They walked on, finally finding light where there had been none. They were on the stage, so to speak, and the stage lights and scenery were set up for rehearsals. Meg led Christine to hide behind one of the sets to better view the rehearsal. "Look there, Christine. That's M. Reyer, the director of the orchestra. And those girls are my friends, the ballerinas. They like to spread gossip a lot, so don't listen to a word they say." From her first impression of Meg Giry, Christine concluded that she fancied herself important and high in the Opera standings. She couldn't help but smile as the girl held her head in pride.

Christine's eyes traveled to the flies above. "And what's up there?"

Meg waved her hand in absence. "Nothing special. Just the men who work the stage sets. Of course, there is something else up there…"

Christine narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She could tell that this girl too liked to tell stories. "What else could be up there besides some dusty stage sets?"

Meg looked around, eyeing those nearest and deciding they could not hear their conversation. "The ghost!" she whispered frantically.

"…it is so easy to assume that it was simply I who am the thief, and not the ghost…"

Christine looked worried. Surely a man with good sense would not believe in such things as ghosts? Yet, it seemed more likely that a young girl who never left the Opera House would easily believe that such fascinations could exist. Meg could read the uncertainty on Christine's face, and was immediately incensed by it.

"You don't believe me, hmm? Look for yourself, Christine Daae! If you are to stay here long enough, go searching in the shadows and see what illusions you might find! Things happen around here for no good reason, and there is an explanation, I promise you!" Her cheeks were reddened as her lips contorted in anger. "Now if you excuse me, mademoiselle, I must get back to practice. Good day to you!" Flying off as fast as she could, Christine frowned and realized she must have hurt the girl's self-esteem.

But there were no such things as ghosts!

Yet, even as she assured herself of this, a vision of golden eyes prickled the back of her neck with unforeseen dread…

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Sorry about this short chapter. I promise to make my next few chapters longer than the first batch. But, something to keep you going: Erik is coming soon! As in, his appearance will take place in due time. Be patient, good things come to those who wait, I promise you…