Once I had walked away from Raoul, I felt the most overwhelming sense of freedom. I remembered that I was still wearing the wedding dress, which was now rumpled and dirty. I looked down at it sadly and hurried downstairs. Almost as an afterthought I took a small oil lantern from a front table.

I half expected Raoul to follow me. But as I thought about it more, I realised that I had injured Raoul's pride, and that he was far too arrogant to let a little thing like me leaving him bother him for too long. He had said his piece, asked me to stay. It was not in his nature to beg and plead. He would find another woman, hopefully one more suited to his station in life than I.

I ran outside and hailed a carriage.

"The Paris Opera House," I said breathlessly as I climbed in.

The driver gave me a speculative look; no doubt I looked a mess. My hair was wild, my make up had to be terribly smudged, and of course there was the wedding gown.

I ignored the driver and he slapped the reins over the backs of the horses and the carriage jostled forward.

My heart was racing as we drew closer to the Opera, closer to Erik. I tried not to allow myself to think, but worries crowded my mind.

What if he was dead?

No, I forced myself not to dwell on that thought.

What if he was gone, or what if he truly did not want me? He had sent me away, what if he had really decided that I was too much of a foolish child?

I started to sob, as I thought of all that could be wrong, that if he were dead he had died not believing in my love for him.

The carriage rumbled to a stop and I looked out the window at the magnificent building that was the Paris Opera House. I paid the driver from the purse that I barely remembered picking up before I left Raoul's. The carriage drove off, leaving me in front of the Opera.

I took a deep breath and walked inside.

It was quiet. The silence was eerie. I knew the managers were probably around somewhere and I hoped I would not run into anyone.

I hurried to my old dressing room. I walked through the door and bolted it behind me. A thousand memories assaulted me. How clearly I remembered the first time I heard his voice as he spoke to me as my Angel of Music. I had been a child then. I had been full of sorrow and self-doubt. Erik had given me the courage to spread my wings and fly. No matter what happened, I would always be grateful to him for that, and for showing me the beauty of the night.

I felt slightly ill as I stood before the mirror. I had tried to open it before and had been unable to. This time I could not fail.

Trying to remember where he had touched the frame to open it, I lightly ran my fingers along the intricately carved wood. Methodically I looked over the mirror. I would search every single inch if that is what it took.

My frustration grew as I failed to get the mirror open.

"No," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. My hands started to shake as I realised that if I could not get the mirror open I would have no chance of finding Erik. I clenched my jaw as I told myself stubbornly that if it came to it, I would throw my dressing table's chair through the mirror if that were the only way to get through.

With a small click that I almost did not notice, the mirror suddenly slid sideways. I stood, dumbfounded, for several seconds before I really realised what had happened.

My heart leapt into my throat as I lit the oil lamp with shaking hands. I walked through the mirror and it slid shut behind me. Somewhat panicked I realised that if I could not find Erik I would probably be lost in the catacombs until I died.

Resolutely I held up the oil lamp and began walking. The air was cold and musty and my footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor. Down I went, down the five levels to the banks of the underground lake.

The boat was still sitting where Raoul had left it over two days ago. I lit the lantern that hung on the front of the boat, untied the boat from the dock and carefully climbed in. I picked up the heavy pole and clumsily pushed the boat away from the dock.

The trip across the lake seemed to take forever. I was weak and clumsy as I tried to pole the boat across the inky water. I seemed to be barely moving but my arms and shoulders ached from the effort and I was soon out of breath.

When I finally saw the opposite bank, I cried in relief. I would not have been able to go much farther.

The boat bumped into the dock and I scrambled out, my skirt trailing into the water. I awkwardly tied the boat down and took the lantern from the bow. My hands were raw and blistered but I ignored the pain. My heart was racing again as I walked cautiously down the corridor towards the archway that led to Erik's chambers.

The gate was still up, I noted as I walked through the archway.

It was dark. There were no lamps lit, so I made my way to the candelabras and lit them. The room lit up and I looked around in horror.

Everything had been destroyed.

Tears coursed down my cheeks as I saw all of Erik's belongings shattered and scattered about. The magnificent organ was in pieces and there were pieces of parchment ripped up and scattered liberally over the ground.

I reached down and picked up one of the pieces.

"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge,

In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent..."

I recognised the words immediately from Don Juan Triumphant. I felt a sharp pain as I realised that everything that Erik had held dear had been in these rooms, and apparently the mob had decided to destroy everything. All of the trinkets, all of his belongings lay crushed and broken on the floor.

"Oh, Erik," I whispered. "Erik, my love."

Where was he?

I crept around the room and through the kitchen. There was no sign of life, only the total destruction. Through the kitchen I went through another archway that led to another room, one I had never been in.

Erik's room.

It too had been ruined. I looked around the gloom and was startled when I saw that there was a large coffin in the centre of the room.

A coffin! I thought, my mind reeling at the sight. I walked warily towards it and, holding my breath, I looked inside.

It was empty. I sighed in relief. It seemed that the coffin was actually a bed. It had a mattress and red satin sheets, which had been shredded. His clothes were strewn about, also shredded.

I crept through the room, but there was nothing that could be salvaged. I suddenly stepped upon something that shattered under my foot. I looked down and found a picture frame lying face down. I gingerly picked it up and turned it over.

It was a double frame with two tin daguerreotypes. The glass was broken and I tipped the remaining shards out and studied the pictures. In one half there was a very handsome man with dark hair and a moustache wearing a suit. The other half was a woman. At first glance, she seemed quite beautiful. She had pale hair, most likely blonde, pulled up in an elaborate, outdated style. She was wearing a high necked, old-fashioned dress. The thing that I noticed the most, however, was her eyes. They were pale, probably blue, and her expression was icy. Her eyes were cold, with tight lines around them. Her lips were pinched together in a sour grimace. Whatever beauty she seemed to have at first glance was lost once I studied her closer.

Judging by the style of her dress, I figured the pictures to be quite old. They must have been Eriks' parents. With a disgusted sigh I let the frame drop to the floor. The woman should have been punished for the way she had treated her son.

I left Erik's dark tomb-like room and walked back into the main chamber. There was only one room left. My room.

I pushed the door open and light spilled into the darkness. The room seemed intact, the only room that had not been destroyed by the mob. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw a figure sprawled face down on the bed.

"Erik!" I cried, running to the bed.

I looked down at his still form, horrified. My vision clouded with panic, I could not tell whether or not he was moving.

"Oh, Erik, Erik!" I sobbed. Tears ran down my cheeks as I reached out and touched his hand, which was ice cold. "No," I gasped. "No, no!"

There was a dull roar in my ears as I gently rolled him over.

He was not wearing the mask, but I did not even notice his face. The only thing that I noticed was the ever so slight rise and fall of his chest.

He was alive.