I am not an expert on jinn lore, so I don't know how accurate I am to it. Most of the lore that's been built has been inspired, or based on speculation (but it's still fun to come up with.)

Chapter 4: The First Wish

Both Christine and Meg were given fair punishments: they were expected to have additional practice for a few days, for one thing, but it was the least of their concerns after the adventure they experienced down in the cellars.

The girls retreated back to the dormitories and sat on Christine's bed as they examined the bottle- or at least what it had turned to. The bottle still retained it's original shape, but it looked as if it were made out of some sort of clay material. It was poorly glazed with a light red color, to the point that they could see the clay through it, and there were cracks in the glaze itself. It looked as if a child made the offending object, and no one in their right mind would openly display it.

"Well, at least Jammes won't touch it." Meg decided. "If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't of put a finger on it."

"The uglier or ordinary an object is, the less interesting it would appear to another." Christine recalled Erik's words before he parted ays with them.

"Do you know what you'll wish for?" Meg asked.

"I'm not sure." Christine admitted. "I mean, if you had three wishes, what would they be?"

"To be a Prima Ballerina, to find myself a sweet heart, and..." Meg was stuck at the last one. "Huh... I guess it's not as easy as they make it out to be."

"Remember what he said about wording the wish correctly?" Christine reminded Meg. "If you told him you wanted a sweet heart, he would probably give you an actual heart covered in sugar." She cracked a laugh at the macabre thought, and even Meg was able to find that funny and she let out a giggle.

"You were right about not envying his profession." Meg admitted. "Still, I'd suppose you would have to think of what you want, before he get's impatient and leaves you."

"It's hard." Christine admitted. "It's as if the entirety of the world is offered to you, and yet I don't even know what to ask for. But I'll think on it." Christine promised as she set the bottle under her side table. "It might take awhile, but I hope he can be patient."

While he was able to arrange the interior of his only source of protection against the world in any way he could see fit, he had also been trapped inside it for what felt like an eternity.

There were some advantages to possessing magic- he could have his music and his precious instruments within his reach, and he could have rooms full of books, art supplies, or anything else to amuse himself with, when he wanted to tend to his various interests. He could design his confines in any way he could see fit, he could easily produce replicas of whatever pleased his eye, like one of Caravaggio's works, and all the while, he could continue creating an infinite amount of rooms with varying architectural styles, but only he would be able to enjoy them and only that could barely last.

He could have everything but a window to the outside world.

Yes, his confines would give his new Mistress privacy (the idea of anyone having power over him was unpleasant for a number of reasons), and he could make it so that everything would be silent outside his home, but forced captivity was something he had also hated beyond words to describe. There was no telling who would be outside his confines when he would choose to escape, and even then, he couldn't be more than several feet away from the damned thing.

He could faintly hear Christine speak with her friend about figuring out what her first wish would be. He was almost surprised to hear that she didn't know what she wanted- after so many selfish people before her, it was almost a welcome.

He knew what he wanted- he himself had three wishes that he would of asked for, if the situation was different. Unfortunately, in a twist of cruel irony, certain limitations prevented him from granting his own wishes.

He reached for his mask and carefully took it off, before he flipped it over and examined it. Yes, it was imposing and looked almost inhuman, which was what he preferred- what he needed after all these years- but it now signified something new to him. After the seal on his bottle somehow disappeared, he desperately called out for someone-anyone- to find him. Of all the people who heard him, it was a girl who also sang for someone to hear her and save her and her friend from their prison.

"Should they shine white with light, may they be pure of heart with Allah's graces." He recited out loud as he stared at the flawless whiteness of his mask.

The two would not met each other again until that night's performance of Faust.

Christine watched as Carlotta sang Marguerite's Jewel Song, and she couldn't help but notice once again that the woman made the character seem extremely superficial. Where was the innocent wonder at the discovery of the jewels and the mirror, upon realizing her potential beauty? Instead, the diva sang as if Marguerite already knew that she was beautiful, and Christine found herself wishing that she could give the character proper justice.

She then realized the error of what she just thought and looked around in alert to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary happened, but there was no smoke, no fire, and no masked men lurking about. She made to look back to watch the performance, while contemplating about it, when the inevitable finally happened.

"So you're a part of the chorus in this Opera?"

She turned in alarm to see Erik standing with crossed arms next to Marthe- or Lisette, as she was known in real life- who was waiting for her turn to go onstage again.

Christine's eyes widened and was about to ask what he was doing, but Erik then put a finger to his lips.

"At this moment, my Mistress, only you can see me." He told her. "It's quite convenient actually, since it allows me to see just what kind of world you are living in. Also, before you ask, yes: even your own friend won't be able to see me."

Christine wisely kept her mouth shut, although she wasn't entirely sure if she liked being called 'Mistress.' It felt unfamiliar to her, as if she had a right over him: like he was her possession.

"Unfortunately, I can see and hear a need for desperate improvement for this production." Erik continued with a displeased grimace. "I can hear instruments that are out of tune and some are not in the proper tempo. Certain members of the cast need work on their projections and sound flat. Your Mephistopheles is excellent, though, your Faust needs to work on his pronunciations and his vibrato, but the worst offender is your Marguerite." He scowled at Carlotta, who then let out a final high note, before the string section finished off the song as she danced about in her jewels. "Who in their right frame of mind thought that she is a professional? She doesn't understand her character- instead it's as if she only cares about being heard and showing off."

A round of applause erupted from the audience and yet it was nothing in Christine's ears. She couldn't believe that this being had managed to pick out errors within the show- some of which she didn't notice- and she had a feeling that he had far more to say than what he was letting on.

Erik then glanced back to Christine. "You know, I am curious about your singing abilities. I thought I heard someone practically yell out Mozart's work, before you first summoned me, though it didn't sound as if they were trying to deliberately perform for an audience."

Christine turned her head in shame- did he really hear her sing like that?

Erik glanced back to the performance as Lisette began to get ready to go on once more. "Her acting is good so far." He nodded to Lisette. "I am curious as to where she will go with her singing."

"What are you doing out here?" Christine hissed as soon as Lisette was out of earshot.

"You can't expect me to stay in hiding while I wait for you to make a wish, can you?" He asked. "You have no idea how annoying or unbearable it is to stay trapped in that thing. I admit that sometimes the isolation is a welcome from time to time- at least until I get rudely interrupted- but until you make a wish, I can see that my presences in this Opera House might be necessary."

"What do you mean?" Christine nervously asked. The last thing she wanted was to unintentionally cause trouble because of her actions of today.

"Let's just say..." Erik reached in one of his sleeves and pulled out a set of yellow paper as he gave her a serious look. "...that the members of the orchestra will find some critiques that I will be providing for tomorrow. I have few for the chorus master, and- well, I'll save my notes for the principles when the time comes."

That very next morning, quite a few people had found Erik's critiques in their possession, and they were very mystified as to what had happened, how it happened, and exactly who was responsible for it.

"All in red ink!" Gabriel (the chorus master) practically shouted to Reyer as he held up his batch of notes. "Some lunatic told me that I need to check my hearing, because some of the chorus members are flat and need work on their projection! And he had the audacity to write in such bad hand writing too!"

Christine glanced over one of the notes that a member of the chorus received and it indeed looked as if a child was struggling to write with pen and ink as if they were still learning. Was that really Erik's actual hand-writing style, or was it a joke on his part?

"I cannot accept this!" Carlotta fumed as she held her notes out. "This same person told me that I am too materialistic! That I don't understand my role! That my performance of the finale was heart-breaking, but not for the reasons that it was supposed to be!"

"What does LeFevre say?" A flutist asked Reyer.

"Well, from what I hear, it wasn't pleasant." The conductor admitted. "I hate to admit it, but after the transitions that have happened, it's been hard to pay attention to the orchestra's needs."

"So it's our fault that this is happening?!" Piangi incredulously demanded.

"We have only been here for a few days!" Carlotta spat. "You can't expect us to take the blame!"

The proceeding argument took ten minutes of rehearsal time, until everyone could begin. Until then, while everyone was arguing or enjoying the real life drama that was unfolding, Christine went over the critiques that everyone was given in her head, and wondered if they would take the advice of the sender or not. If so, would the show improve in anyway?

This time, Christine kept her eyes opened for a sign of Erik to appear, and her patience was rewarded: the jinn quietly appeared in the orchestra pit and walked amongst them while he glanced over to check their sheet music now and then, before he finally came on stage to face Christine and held a strange red pen in his hands.

"Now then- let's see if they'll listen to me once they stop these petty arguments."

In the end, Erik had his way: that night's performance of Faust sounded far better than it had the previous night. The acting manager, the chorus master, and the conductor worked to try to improve the parts that needed attention, and it was quite surprising how those changes made everything much more alive and better than before.

Of course, there were still some problems- in all her stubbornness, Carlotta refused to listen to the notes given to her, and continued with her version of Marguerite as if nothing had happened.

"See? I'm needed here."

Christine glanced to Erik, who looked somewhat pleased with himself. "Doesn't everything sound much better? Of course, there's still a few errors that I can hear, and of course, there's her." He scowled at Carlotta as if the woman was some sort of pest that wouldn't go away.

"It's a lot more enjoyable." Christine admitted before she could stop herself and a few chorus members looked at her in confusion. "What did you say?" one of the baritones asked her.

Erik innocently smiled and shook his head as Christine realized the error of her mistake. "N-nothing." She quickly told her co-performer. "I was just thinking about how much better the performance is."

"Agreed." The man acknowledged, before turning back to said performance.

"You're joking!" Meg gasped. "That was all his doing?!"

Christine had finished explaining to Meg about the cause of the mischief as they went about the streets of Paris for the sake of getting out and enjoying the sun and the sights. They hadn't had a chance to immerse themselves in the city after the changes to Faust, and they were going to take it while they still had time, and were dressed as normal civilians, instead of characters on stage.

"So is he with us now?" Meg asked. "I mean, how does that even work? I understand that you could see him, but what about the bottle? Isn't he bound to it?"

"He apparently had it on him the whole time." Christine tried to explain. "That or there's something he won't tell me. Also-"

She opened up her bag and a black and white cat with yellow eyes peeked it's head out. "Oh how cute!" Meg cooed in delight and was about to pet it until she realized what Christine was trying to tell her and stopped walking.

There was a very long pause amongst the small group.

"You can't be serious." Meg looked to Christine. "Is that really-" Christine awkwardly nodded.

"...Oh." Meg shot the cat an angry look. "This is our time together Monsieur! We didn't invite you along, and yet you insist on following us! I thought all men hated the idea of joining women in our shopping. Or is there something we should know about you?"

A few people gave Meg a confused look as she spoke to the cat in such an unusual way. The cat only shot her a bored look and rolled his eyes.

"I didn't realize he was in there until it was too late." Christine tried to confess. "It took me awhile to realize that it was him, instead of a lucky stray. The bottle in my bag was a giveaway-"

"Fine, then I must punish him." Meg grabbed Christine's arm and pulled to a street that both girl's were familiar with. "I'll make him bored out of his mind as we go shopping for new clothes. I need to look for a new pair of gloves anyway- how about you, Christine? Do you need something new?" She hastily, yet stiffly asked.

"I can't!" Christine protested and tried to pull her friend's hand from her wrist. "I'm trying to save my money, remember?" And unfortunately, that was the truth: she could make a modest salary at the opera, but she had no desire to spend what she inherited from her father, until she had a good reason for it.

Meg obeyed and let go of Christine. "Alright, fine- but he better not follow us everywhere we go from now on! Otherwise, I'd start to worry about his intentions." In that brief moment, the sunny girl resembled her mother in all her stern firmness, and it caught Christine off guard.

With a graceful spin, the ballerina headed to the shop that she initially wished to go to, while Christine was stuck in the middle of the road, while everyone passed her by. A street performer was playing a sweet air on his violin, while his hat was flipped out for kind civilians to toss coins into his hat, but his music did little to appease her in that moment.

Christine turned to a slightly narrow alleyway and into the safety of the shadows as she passed by the conductor, before she set her bag down and quickly put on the gold band, before she would make a mistake.

"You need to warn me about these things!" Christine demanded as the cat leapt out of her bag. She crossed her arms and waited as the cat disappeared into smoke and was replaced with an amused Erik: the sheer look of humor and mock innocence on the exposed side of his face heavily contrasted with the permanent anger of the masked side.

"I'm not the kind of person who likes to be out in the open or out in the sun, but I prefer taking alternatives." Erik threw his hands out in a great flourish. "One moment, Erik is free to walk amongst the stage and correct the performers, but the next, Erik can't be out with the Mistress Christine in the guise of a cat as she walks the streets of Paris with her friend. I would have enjoyed the humor of it all if you hadn't given the secret away: is Erik the cat? Is Erik an invisible being walking behind the two young women, or is Erik still locked up in his bottle by his Mistress's bedside?"

He let out a laugh when he saw how perplexed Christine looked.

"Maybe Erik should have pretended to be a young woman as well- at least a young woman is less interesting in a cat in your bag."

"You really enjoy this, don't you?" Christine asked. "You like confusing people."

Erik merely threw his hands up and gave her another mock innocent smile, but there was a strange glint in his eyes. "With Erik, you can't tell."

As Christine tried to understand why Erik was acting so child-like, she heard a very familiar tune from the violinist that made her fall to complete silence and forget about everything. It was one of her father's pieces- one that he used to play and she would join along in harmony when they were still on the road and near homeless.

She turned around to face the direction of the violinist as memories poured into her head: memories of the great mountains of Sweden, happy, kind hearted townsfolk who stopped to listen to father and daughter perform together... of when Gustave was finally able to perform on stage as a soloist and had his daughter sing with him for one song and one song only, and yet it was better than being in any opera production.

And without meaning to- without being aware of what was around her- Christine closed her eyes and began to sing.

She sang of the longing for her homeland and of the mother she only knew for a brief time. She sang of all the hope for the future that she and her father would find, should they seek their fortune, and if not, then they had there memories as their treasures. She sang of her love for her father, whom she dearly missed.

She wasn't aware of it, but Erik was listening closely to her as he slowly walked around to get a better look. Her singing robbed him of his humor, and left him unable to think of anything else the moment she uttered the first eight notes from her voice.

This was the very first time he truly heard her sing, and he was not expecting the purity, nor the passion and emotion in her voice. Yes, it wasn't as strong as a true professional but there was a potential in that voice of hers, and he was trying his hardest not to walk over and do something as simple as straighten her shoulders for better posture. Instead, he had to listen and leave her be, or else risk ruining the moment when she realized that he was still there.

And then there was the part of him that he was not expecting: a part of him became taken with that pure voice. It was something he had never heard before, and yet he felt his heart stop all the same from the very sound of it.

She was pretty in the physical sense- not a true Aphrodite, but she was still pleasing to look at- and he liked what he knew of her so far, but the moment she sang, something about her changed, and he didn't know if he liked the sudden feelings that began to stir within him.

The music died, and Christine finally ceased singing. The memories went away all too soon, and so did that brief moment of feeling utterly, entirely whole. She hesitated for a few moments, before she opened her eyes and almost jumped with shock when she realized that she forgot who was listening to her.

"Where did that voice come from?" Erik was finally able to ask.

"His name was Gustave Daae- he was my father." Christine began as she allowed Erik to hold the locket and see the picture hiding within it.

It was still afternoon, and they were in the Opera's chapel room. It was here that, for whatever reason possessed Christine, she told Erik everything about her father. She told him of her life in Sweden, and how she inherited her love of music through her father and her singing through her late mother. She told him of their travels through Sweden, before Professor Velerius took them to France, and how her father was able to gain himself a name at last, from those who saw his potential. She told him the stories that he used to tell her, of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music, and how she wanted so badly for him to come to her as a child. She spoke of how she loved to sing with her father and how she wanted to perform on stage one day, and she finally spoke of how she was so close to achieving that dream at the conservatoire, before her father's life ended all too soon.

At this point, she stopped herself and had to take a moment.

"If... if I am here, than it is only out of luck." She frowned. "I don't think I deserve this right. This isn't how I wanted it to be."

"There's not a day that hasn't passed, where I can't think of my father." Christine glanced to Erik. "There's times where I wished I had the strength to continue with my studies and pursue my dreams, but my father was everything to me. Without him, I lost my love for music..."

She was not expecting Erik to be interested in her talking about her father (rarely anyone did.) and yet he had his complete attention upon her. She could see it in his eyes- even the one hidden within the hole of the mask seemed to be looking at her, rather than through her.

"You are very fortunate." He finally spoke as he returned the locket to her. "There are people who go their whole lives without any sort of love- especially the familial love you shared with your father."

"I have a strange feeling he would have liked you." Christine gave him a weak smile. "You seem to be a musician yourself, based on what little I know of you so far."

Erik only smiled, before he began to sing for her.

The voice that he produced was not what Christine was expecting: it was a perfect tenor voice, and yet there was something much more about it. There was a richness to his voice that was almost heavenly to hear- one moment, it was as if his voice was like a gentle caress, and the next, it was mightier than a storm. There was a passion in it that she rarely heard, if at all, and yet it sounded as if it could contain all the sorrow and anguish of the world and she was feeling her heart clench against her will.

She couldn't even register what song he was singing, but only the way he sang it, and she wanted to keep hearing that wonderful voice. For a few minutes, he sang for her, before he finally ended the song almost all too soon and glanced to her again, to see that she was staring at him as if she were under a spell.

"Music is my passion too." Erik confessed to her. "I consider myself a master in many arts, but the music is always first and foremost. To lose it would be to lose any joy I could ever be able to find in this world."

Christine was still staring at him in wonder as she took in her words. She became aware that she still held the locket in her hand, before she was struck with a thought and looked at it.

There could not have been a coincidence that she lost her locket and found it in the same place where she found Erik. This was a sign for something, and she realized what it meant now.

"...You're the Angel of Music." Christine's eyes widened as she breathlessly spoke. "You're the Angel my father promised to me." She glanced up to Erik.

"I'm not an angel." Erik didn't appear to be comfortable by this. "I am far from one-"

"But I found the locket and then I found you!" Christine almost flew to Erik and grabbed his arm. "Maybe our meeting wasn't an accident! Maybe my father kept his promise after all!" Something was awakening inside Christine- something she thought was long gone. She felt hope being returned to her once more, and it was almost overwhelming.

As for Erik, he was torn between hearing what this young woman was saying, and the fact that she was physically touching him- grabbing his arm as if seeking reassurance instead of causing him deliberate harm. He couldn't believe that this girl was believing him to be some sort of genuine saint in disguise, instead of the opposite.

"If I wish for it," Christine almost pleaded. "Could you fulfill my father's promise and teach me? I want to have that joy again, and I want to honor my father's memory, instead of drowning within it. Please Erik- can I wish for this, if I can wish for anything in the world?"

Erik stared at Christine. This girl, who was so like him, and yet not quite had seemed almost dead, but now she seemed alive, and he knew that if she showed this in her voice- her voice that held so much promise, like a diamond in the rough- then maybe she could become something far beyond her own imagination.

And for the first time in a long time, he was willing to obey the accursed role that was thrusted upon him.

"I can, Christine." He assured her as he took her hand and held it up. "Of all the wishes I have granted, this is among the very few I desire to grant. I cannot promise you that I can make your voice into perfection within a day- it would take a few years, by the sound of your voice- and you have to obey my instructions until we are through. I can't grant you the other two wishes during this time, so you have to be absolutely sure you want this. There is no going back once you make the wish."

Christine only smiled and wordlessly, she took the gold band off her finger and placed it in her pocket, before she faced him again.

"I wish," She began with all the confidence she now possessed. "for you to act as my Angel of Music and to give me voice lessons for as long as you see it fit."

Erik closed his eyes for a moment, before he finally smiled: a real, genuine smile that the the misfortune to be partially hidden under the mask.

"Your wish is my command." He assured her.

He then opened his eyes and looked her in the eye. "I expect you to be ready at an appointed time, here in this chapel from now on. We may start tomorrow, on your day off, and we will figure it out from there."

Christine let out a delighted gasp and clasped her hands to her heart. "Thank you- thank you so much!"

And so, on the following afternoon, Christine found that Erik somehow managed to fit a piano in one of the abandoned dressing rooms that would normally house one of the leads- specifically, a fellow soprano.

"How on earth did you-?" Christine gestured in confusion at the piano.

"Surely you won't make me say the word, will you?" Erik asked as he sat at the seat of the piano while organizing the music that he himself was providing. He had removed his outer robe and replaced it with a more causal buttoned up white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a black vest, and he looked a lot less otherworldly and more ordinary. Christine thought that if it wasn't for the fact that he still wore the half mask (for whatever mysterious reason) he would completely look like a normal person.

"But won't anyone here us?" Christine asked. "This room isn't exactly sound-proof. You can hear from beyond the doors."

"I took care of that." Erik merely replied. "No one will hear what is going on inside this room, unless I want them to." He then got up and walked around the piano until he found the spot that he wanted her to stand on- it was to his left, where she wouldn't get distracted by the mask (or anything unpleasant that he was unable to hide from the naked eye), and where he could easily see her. "This is where I will be able to watch and critique you." He told her as he grabbed a music stand and placed it there, and waited until she obeyed his instructions.

"Wait a moment." He held a hand up. "One more thing."

He walked behind her and hesitated for a moment, before he adjusted her shoulders and made actual physical contact with her. It almost sacred him, and he had to mentally tell himself that she was going to be his student, and not one of the very few women he ever touched, if at all. Even Christine glanced at one of her shoulders and watched as he helped fix her position.

"Stand straight- from now on, you will hold yourself like a queen as you sing, but you will keep your knees slightly bent." He told her. "If you lock them together you will eventually faint, and be sure that your feet are comfortably spaced apart, instead of together."

"Yes." Christine obeyed, but almost gasped when one of his hands touched her chin and gently lifted it to a comfortable position. It felt strange to her, and yet it felt oddly pleasing, but she didn't dare show it when Erik turned to face her. She didn't want him to think that she had enjoyed that contact, but she had no idea that Erik himself had never done such a gesture until now, and he was desperately trying not to dwell on any of this at the moment.

"There- that's a good starting point. Posture is just as important as being able to breath and have strength to sustain the notes."

"Raise your arms out." He told her. "Feel your diaphragm and rib cage raise up and out, but as you lower your arms, make sure everything within stays up."

"Like this?" Christine raised her arms halfway up, like Marguerite asking for deliverance to heaven and felt everything come into place before she dropped them.

"You'll improve in time." Erik assured her, before he transferred some of the music from the piano to Christine's stand and sat at the piano.

His fingers were almost twitching in anticipation over the keys- he was about to be like a god and change something with much potential into something even more beautiful. Was this how Pygmalion felt, before he sculpted Galatea?

"Follow my lead." He gently commanded her as yellow eyes met blue eyes. "I want to see what your range is. Sing for me, Christine."

The first chords played, and the warm up octaves began, as the student obeyed the teacher and gave him her first notes. A simple suspense arose as the voice gradually raised up with each passing half note before dropping down again. Gradually, the voice raised higher and higher, from alto, to mezzo, to soprano, though it gradually became weaker without the strength to support it, and Christine had to stop before she could go any higher.

And yet, Erik could still hear far more promise in Christine's voice: she was destined to become great, and maybe one day outshine Carlotta until she would only be an annoying memory.

He was going to make sure that the voice given to him would reach it's maximal potential, no matter how long it would take. He would make sure that nothing would stand between Christine and her future, no matter what.

Yay for mischievous Erik and a free music lesson! (sort of?) I used to do a lot of choir and I performed in a few community operas(!), so I hope I'm staying accurate. I admit, since I'm writing Erik, it would be fun to pass on my knowledge of singing to anyone who would like to learn through him.

Man, it's tricky to write some of this out, when everyone has had their own takes on it. Still, it's fun to try to see how everything fell into place for these two in the first place, and take it from there.

Reviews are appreciated, but I won't demand them like Erik likes to demand for 20,000 francs: however, if I somehow miss the fact that I accidentally make someone speak in 21st century slang and fail to catch it, I would like that very much.