Setting myself to the task ahead, my mind seemed a black, confused void. What would I say? "Sir, you may remember me as the young girl whose life you attempted to save. . .I now ask for your help once again, so that I might return to my would-be captor?" No, words would be a tricky endeavor. But, I knew of noone else for whom I could seek help. Not even Madame Giry knew Erik as the Persian did. If I were to face the facts, I was left with little options but to seek the man in the astrakhan cap.

I decided to simply let the words come as they wished. Urgency did not make allowances for artful language, and my frustrations propelled me to compose the missive at a furious pace.
-
Monsieur, This letter comes to you from a young lady whose life you once helped to save. Though it has been over two years since the denouement that was Erik's "Don Juan Triumphant", I have not forgotten your kindness, which you gave so freely to me, my fiancé, and to Erik. You, I am certain, must be very curious as to the purpose of my letter, seeing that we have not conversed since that fateful night in the underground lair. So, at the risk of greatly exhausting your patience, Monsieur, I shall get straight to the matter at hand.

You must have heard, as the gossips of Paris rival those of all other cities in their prater, that I married the young Vicomte de Chagny soon after the catastrophe at the Palais Garnier. To speak frankly, improperly even for a lady of my social standing, marriage was not the dream I had imagined. Raoul, my dear husband, and I have parted-it was my decision. And why?

Monsieur, you are the only soul to whom I may confess, for we are the only two people in the world to have ever gained Erik's trust, his friendship. So, I must make use of our strange confidence, for you are my last hope. I must find Erik, I must regain his trust.

The Opera Ghost has haunted my every living hour since he released me from my engagement. I did not realize then, and I cannot say that any one of our party-if one could deem us as such- was aware of the fact that I should never have left him. It became painfully clear very quickly following our departure from the opera house.

Raoul desired to wed as soon as possible, whatever his reasons; be it the fervor of his love for me or his fear that Erik would return and I would be unable to refuse him, and I did not protest. To the contrary, though I did not appear the beaming, blissful bride one would expect of the betrothed of a handsome Vicomte, I also hoped to make haste with the nuptials.

I cannot name my husband's reasons for the quick ceremony-less than a fortnight after I abandoned my maestro, yet foresight struck me as an unexpected slap across my cheek, leaving the angry reminder of my mistake that I could not correct.

I had turned my back on my destiny that evening, allowing myself only a glance of Erik-knowing we would never see one another again, believing then, that he would cease to exist in my physical world. He had to become a true phantom of my memory, for I had given my consent to assume another life in a very different world. I would play the masquerade of the Vicomtesse Christine de Chagny.

I left my husband yesterday afternoon. I did not warn him. We never argued during the period of our marriage. No, we were a comfortable, settled couple, and we somehow adopted a very similar relationship as to that of our shared youth. Raoul de Chagny and I recited our wedding vows for what revealed itself to be two children playing house.

I am no longer a child. As you know Erik; he often referred to you, sir, as the sole friend he had in this world, you must be aware of the magic he exudes. To know him is to fall into a separate reality, formed of his unrivaled intellect and the power of his art. I was too naive then, it had not realized that after succumbing to Erik's spell, even if he chose to free you, the enchantment would always survive.

I cannot allow for him to waste away, Monsieur! Surely, you share a sense of brotherly affection for the Opera Ghost, and thus, would not wish for Erik to fade from life as if he had only ever existed as a shadow?

So, in closing, good sir, will you please help me save Erik? I have no idea how to lure him out of his cocoon, but I will use my last remaining breath attempting to do so. Monsieur, whether you can help me or not is not important at this time. I request, instead, that you meet me at the Opera tomorrow evening, at eleven. The Rue Scribe. . .

Sincerely,
Christine, Vicomtesse de Chagny -----------------------------------------------------