Il Commiato, la Mia Principessa
Chapt. 3
The passages seemed endlessly black and foreboding. A haunted maze full of frightening images that were only half-there, dark corridors and eternal , moonless night . It was as though he were staring into some horrific mirror; one that reflected his cold, unfeeling life rather than the cold, unfeeling man he had become . Up and down, back and forth he paced the cellars, his mind consumed by everything he had tried so hard to surpress into the black sea of time , until he no longer knew where he was. It was unthinkable; Erik loosing himself in his own kingdom, becoming weak and vulnerable to the silent dangers only he was unafraid of. Perhaps , if his thoughts had not been so consumed with the memories of his bleak past ; perhaps if he had not been slowly allowing his mind to drift further into madness, he would not have forgotten his beloved home through which he took such pride in creating an eternal dungeon. But the shadows of what used to be lingered on the floor and haunted the very interior of the building, casting their phantasms upon the walls and projecting forgotten voices into the caverns, until Erik suddenly felt as though they were the ghosts and it was he who was their innocent victim; ready to be swallowed up by the nightmarish blackness which surrounded him . Gasping for breath, he flung a skeletal hand against the wall and clawed at the brick with wild rage reflecting in his glowing eyes. He could see them; he knew they were there, but this time , he would not let them escape unscathed. They would pay for what they had done to him! They would pay for leaving him to die in the cold, forgotten prison of his mind. He would take his revenge . In the midst of his fury, a soft whisper suddenly caressed his tormented ears, as though a gentle breeze had blown past him, chilling him to the bone. One word slowed his labored breathing and soothed his ravaged mind.
"Erik ...." Its echo danced throughout the Labyrinth , leaving a thin trail of mysterious beauty as it drifted along the walls. "Erik ," it called again , this time more intense, more vivid. Almost as though its keeper was standing just beyond the passage, calling to him from some other world. Almost as though its keeper had never left him ...........
Following the Voice's wordless song, he became hypnotized by its power and celestial beauty. The memories and emotions he had tried so hard to drown in some lake of shattered dreams surfaced as he reached out for her blurring figure and remembered everything which brought him pain.
"Christine ....." he murmered helplessly into the darkness, like a doomed sailor, beckoned by the siren's enchanting song. The figure turned, and he at last saw her heavenly face, glowing with radience at the sight of her wonderful Angel . She was, and always had been, the delicate, white rose which grew among the black thorns and bare trees of the dead and forgetten forest beneath the Opera . Above ground she had been worshipped merely for the purity of her voice; below the streets, however, Erik worshipped the purity of her very soul. Turning from him once more , she quickly slipped into another passage; still casting her singing upon the walls and floor, mocking him and poisening his mind with her song.
"Erik , come back . Come back to me ....." His hands outstretched, no longer afraid of her strangely fading figure, he replied,
"Christine .... Christine ! Don't run away! I'm here ! I never left you! Oh Christine , don't run away again ...." His voice faded slowly into a choked cry of despair as his shapeless Angel drifted out of his sight. Staggering along the cold walls, he attempted to follow the fading sound of her voice through the doorway which returned him to his desolate home . She was silenced now ; subdued by the deathly stillness which enveloped all who entered his kingdom. Glancing around in the blackness, trying to force his weary eyes to adjust in the harsh lack of light, Erik saw her at last. Her small, trembling figure had curled itself into a a tight ball of shivering helplessness. Holding his breath, he approached her cautiously, as though she were some timid white rabbit who would disappear into the ground at the sight of any foreign animal. In the dim candlelight, he saw her fragile body rise and fall which each shuddered breath. Her hand shifted along the hard floor, and a bright flash caught his eye as it danced in the pallid glow which surrounded her in a warm halo. Glancing briefly in the direction from where it had come , he caught sight of the dainty, golden ring which he had chosen so carefully to place on her pale finger, only to have it returned and replaced by another more properly suited to her heart . His rested there now , instead of the one he had expected to see. Gazing into the soft light, Erik smiled ; the first in many miserable weeks . His Christine had returned .......
There had been no noise. No splintering crash or wrenching cry of agony to cause her to wake so suddenly . It was almost as though someone had reached out and grasped her arm with fierce intensity, forcing her eyes to open, wide and afraid. As Bianca slowly lifted her head and scanned the dark room , however, she could see no shape in the blackness; no hand on her shoulder. Letting out a small sigh, she gently picked herself up from the cold ground on which she had chosen to curl up and rest, like the poor little street mouse that she was. No dreams had haunted her subconcious; no frightening nightmares, no images of Mama's lifeless body disappearing beneath the foaming waters of death. She had slept quite blissfully , allowing herself to forget her terrible recollections and strange encounters with some fallen Angel beneath the Opera , and slide simply into the glittery peace of an unknown world. Noticing the low -burning candles, she stretched a pale arm up towards their light, hoping , perhaps to catch some of its comforting illumination in her hands. The familiar flash of gold sparkled in the darkness , like a shooting star falling from the inky sky, and she smiled as she had when she first discovered the ring. It was so curious to find something of such simple, yet breathtaking lovliness in this dark maze of sinister caverns, and yet, it was not out of place. A diamond in the rough , perhaps . The stories she had always loved most told of wonderful, mysterious beauty hidden beneath some outwardly frightening and ominous facade.
It was the dull longing she had thought was forgotten which told her to place the small ring on her thin finger and admire it; remembering gently a time when she thought she knew what happiness was. Her eyes transfixed on the perfect gold band, Bianca slowly lifted herself up towards the organ, leaning on its side for support. Her head suddenly throbbed with quick, sharp stabs of pain and her gaze was broken as the room began to spin and blur into an eerie portrait of distant madness. Moaning softly, she placed a hand to her forehead and felt the gauzy cloth; remembering her mysterious injury and at last thinking of Erik .
"You are awake . " the voice was soft and soothing, causing Bianca to turn away from the candles and peer into the dark , searching for the man who possessed it.
"Erik ...?" the small question was seemingly swallowed by the blackness as her voice trailed off into a slight whisper.
"Hush, be still . There is no need to be afraid. Please do not be afraid...." It sounded as though he were a small child, pleading for something he knew he could not have . As though he knew it would be useless to try and calm her.
"Erik , where are you?" Bianca's voice grew slightly louder, as her fear of the unknown increased . She knew very little about her aloof host , and did not quite trust him yet as simply a voice. Hearing soft footsteps moving gently towards her , Bianca reached blindly for a candle and pushed it foreward; illuminating the frighteningly mysterious night in a warm bath of yellow light around her face. Almost out of nothingness, Erik appeared; towering before her in an ominous aura of dangerous power. What she could see of his masked face was solid, as though he were a statue carved out of stone. Bianca was about to gasp and shrink back into her little ball of protection, when she caught sight of his glowing eyes. Unlike his rigid features, they were soft and quiet, shining gently in the calming candlelight which danced across his face; almost as though he were speaking to her through them, saying, "Trust me ." And suddenly, she couldn't look away. Once again he had grabbed her mind with the power of his eyes and tightened his grip so that she would never go free until he at last relented and turned from her. Holding out a trembling hand, he gently caressed her pallid cheek with his deathly fingers.
"Don't be afraid...." he murmered softly, still hypnotizing her with his gaze. "Christine .... Please don't be afraid....." Pulling her head back from his thin hand, her green eyes wide with fear, Bianca stared up at him in confusion.
"Who- Wha- What did you say? Christine ?" A great wave of saddness swept through him, and she could almost see it wash over his body, causing the weak foundation of his spirit to collapse in on itself. The look in his eyes held such pain that Bianca felt hot tears of unknown anguish run down her own face, scalding her skin.
"Why are you here ? Why did you come back , when it is so obvious that I still frighten you? I know you are afraid, Christine . I can see it in your eyes. It is the same look you wore when I first brought you to my home . The same look you wore when you finally realized your Angel was merely a horrifying monster." His breathing was coming in hard, deep gasps, as though he had just been pulled out of a churning lake, and Bianca saw the gentleness in his eyes begin to fade; a frightening combination of hurt, rage and despair taking its place.
"Erik , what are you saying? Who is Christine ? What is the matter with you? Your eyes, they're...." Her voice trailed off into nothingness, as his expression grew more intense. Grasping her shoulders fiercely, he brought his masked face close to her's, his gaze burning itself into her own.
"Why? I don't understand? Why!? I allowed you to go! You were free from the horrible nightmare; the terrifying demon who murders stagehands and deceives innocent chorus girls with his heavenly voice... It was all over for you, wasn't it Christine ? You had your Vicomte , you knew that from the very beginning . All you needed was the freedom from your Angel , and all of this would finally come to an end. You should have asked, Christine . You know there is nothing on this earth I wouldn't give to you." His eyes softening slightly, Erik's voice suddenly grew quieter, and more dangerous; like the deadly eye of a destructive hurricane. Bianca could hear his raspy breathing combine with her own, and she half-wondered if he would attempt to strangle her to death, as he had during their first encounter . He was clearly insane; a raving, delerious lunatic who experienced delusion and recollections of some horrible past. His grasp on her shaking shoulders weakened as silent tears began to run down his face, dissolving into the chilly air before they reached the hard ground.
"But you didn't ask, did you? You didn't ask for your freedom; you were simply going to steal it and run away into the night , like the cowardly little theif that you are! I surprised you though, didn't I Christine ? I gave it to you anyway. I told you there was nothing I wouldn't deny you. So you left; without a sound escaping your cursed lips, silently praying never to return to this nightmarish dungeon , while Erik , poor Erik was forbidden to follow. The wretched, bottom-feeding fish who loved a little songbird was left behind to wallow in the bleak misery he created for himself. Is that why you have returned , Christine ? You wanted to see what became of Poor Erik ? To show him the wonderful life you now live, with your wealth and your Vicomte ? No longer the sparrow with a voice of pure gold, but a horrible little mockingbird, come to mock her once cherished teacher with his own decision ! Why, Christine ? Why!? You didn't even say goodbye...." His voice broke, and a terrible cry of despair escaped from his throat as he finally released her; flinging her across the room onto the hard ground. Staggering over to the frightening throne, he grasped it fiercely and lowered himself to the floor in a shaking ball of terrible hurt and dangerous rage. Bianca could feel her chest heaving with deep sobs, as though she was somehow sharing in his incredible pain. For what seemed like an eternity, she sat staring at the broken remains of what she assumed was once a fine man, wondering whether he would return from his delusion or simply die from anguish and unbearable cold. Too afraid to allow him to escape from her hollow eyes, she studied him closely as his breathing gently slowed and the half-murmered pleas to the unknown Christine quieted, until silence returned once again to the eerie Labyrinth and a deathly chill hung in the air. Bianca was so afraid of him now , that she could barely move. Her mind spun with paralyzing fear and unanswered questions; taunting her subconsious and pushing her into a state of quiet paranoia. Her knees pulled tightly against her chest, she sat on the damp floor, her green eyes peering at her pitiful host with fierce concentration. She felt almost as though she were caught in the den of a frighteningly large lion who would awake and catch her in his powerful grasp should she shift even an inch. As hot tears drifted slowly down her pale face, Bianca suddenly realized she couldn't distinguish whether they were for Erik's suffering or her own.
~ Hmmmmm, I know it still has progressing to do, but don't worry! More is coming ! Thanks for reading!~
Chapt. 3
The passages seemed endlessly black and foreboding. A haunted maze full of frightening images that were only half-there, dark corridors and eternal , moonless night . It was as though he were staring into some horrific mirror; one that reflected his cold, unfeeling life rather than the cold, unfeeling man he had become . Up and down, back and forth he paced the cellars, his mind consumed by everything he had tried so hard to surpress into the black sea of time , until he no longer knew where he was. It was unthinkable; Erik loosing himself in his own kingdom, becoming weak and vulnerable to the silent dangers only he was unafraid of. Perhaps , if his thoughts had not been so consumed with the memories of his bleak past ; perhaps if he had not been slowly allowing his mind to drift further into madness, he would not have forgotten his beloved home through which he took such pride in creating an eternal dungeon. But the shadows of what used to be lingered on the floor and haunted the very interior of the building, casting their phantasms upon the walls and projecting forgotten voices into the caverns, until Erik suddenly felt as though they were the ghosts and it was he who was their innocent victim; ready to be swallowed up by the nightmarish blackness which surrounded him . Gasping for breath, he flung a skeletal hand against the wall and clawed at the brick with wild rage reflecting in his glowing eyes. He could see them; he knew they were there, but this time , he would not let them escape unscathed. They would pay for what they had done to him! They would pay for leaving him to die in the cold, forgotten prison of his mind. He would take his revenge . In the midst of his fury, a soft whisper suddenly caressed his tormented ears, as though a gentle breeze had blown past him, chilling him to the bone. One word slowed his labored breathing and soothed his ravaged mind.
"Erik ...." Its echo danced throughout the Labyrinth , leaving a thin trail of mysterious beauty as it drifted along the walls. "Erik ," it called again , this time more intense, more vivid. Almost as though its keeper was standing just beyond the passage, calling to him from some other world. Almost as though its keeper had never left him ...........
Following the Voice's wordless song, he became hypnotized by its power and celestial beauty. The memories and emotions he had tried so hard to drown in some lake of shattered dreams surfaced as he reached out for her blurring figure and remembered everything which brought him pain.
"Christine ....." he murmered helplessly into the darkness, like a doomed sailor, beckoned by the siren's enchanting song. The figure turned, and he at last saw her heavenly face, glowing with radience at the sight of her wonderful Angel . She was, and always had been, the delicate, white rose which grew among the black thorns and bare trees of the dead and forgetten forest beneath the Opera . Above ground she had been worshipped merely for the purity of her voice; below the streets, however, Erik worshipped the purity of her very soul. Turning from him once more , she quickly slipped into another passage; still casting her singing upon the walls and floor, mocking him and poisening his mind with her song.
"Erik , come back . Come back to me ....." His hands outstretched, no longer afraid of her strangely fading figure, he replied,
"Christine .... Christine ! Don't run away! I'm here ! I never left you! Oh Christine , don't run away again ...." His voice faded slowly into a choked cry of despair as his shapeless Angel drifted out of his sight. Staggering along the cold walls, he attempted to follow the fading sound of her voice through the doorway which returned him to his desolate home . She was silenced now ; subdued by the deathly stillness which enveloped all who entered his kingdom. Glancing around in the blackness, trying to force his weary eyes to adjust in the harsh lack of light, Erik saw her at last. Her small, trembling figure had curled itself into a a tight ball of shivering helplessness. Holding his breath, he approached her cautiously, as though she were some timid white rabbit who would disappear into the ground at the sight of any foreign animal. In the dim candlelight, he saw her fragile body rise and fall which each shuddered breath. Her hand shifted along the hard floor, and a bright flash caught his eye as it danced in the pallid glow which surrounded her in a warm halo. Glancing briefly in the direction from where it had come , he caught sight of the dainty, golden ring which he had chosen so carefully to place on her pale finger, only to have it returned and replaced by another more properly suited to her heart . His rested there now , instead of the one he had expected to see. Gazing into the soft light, Erik smiled ; the first in many miserable weeks . His Christine had returned .......
There had been no noise. No splintering crash or wrenching cry of agony to cause her to wake so suddenly . It was almost as though someone had reached out and grasped her arm with fierce intensity, forcing her eyes to open, wide and afraid. As Bianca slowly lifted her head and scanned the dark room , however, she could see no shape in the blackness; no hand on her shoulder. Letting out a small sigh, she gently picked herself up from the cold ground on which she had chosen to curl up and rest, like the poor little street mouse that she was. No dreams had haunted her subconcious; no frightening nightmares, no images of Mama's lifeless body disappearing beneath the foaming waters of death. She had slept quite blissfully , allowing herself to forget her terrible recollections and strange encounters with some fallen Angel beneath the Opera , and slide simply into the glittery peace of an unknown world. Noticing the low -burning candles, she stretched a pale arm up towards their light, hoping , perhaps to catch some of its comforting illumination in her hands. The familiar flash of gold sparkled in the darkness , like a shooting star falling from the inky sky, and she smiled as she had when she first discovered the ring. It was so curious to find something of such simple, yet breathtaking lovliness in this dark maze of sinister caverns, and yet, it was not out of place. A diamond in the rough , perhaps . The stories she had always loved most told of wonderful, mysterious beauty hidden beneath some outwardly frightening and ominous facade.
It was the dull longing she had thought was forgotten which told her to place the small ring on her thin finger and admire it; remembering gently a time when she thought she knew what happiness was. Her eyes transfixed on the perfect gold band, Bianca slowly lifted herself up towards the organ, leaning on its side for support. Her head suddenly throbbed with quick, sharp stabs of pain and her gaze was broken as the room began to spin and blur into an eerie portrait of distant madness. Moaning softly, she placed a hand to her forehead and felt the gauzy cloth; remembering her mysterious injury and at last thinking of Erik .
"You are awake . " the voice was soft and soothing, causing Bianca to turn away from the candles and peer into the dark , searching for the man who possessed it.
"Erik ...?" the small question was seemingly swallowed by the blackness as her voice trailed off into a slight whisper.
"Hush, be still . There is no need to be afraid. Please do not be afraid...." It sounded as though he were a small child, pleading for something he knew he could not have . As though he knew it would be useless to try and calm her.
"Erik , where are you?" Bianca's voice grew slightly louder, as her fear of the unknown increased . She knew very little about her aloof host , and did not quite trust him yet as simply a voice. Hearing soft footsteps moving gently towards her , Bianca reached blindly for a candle and pushed it foreward; illuminating the frighteningly mysterious night in a warm bath of yellow light around her face. Almost out of nothingness, Erik appeared; towering before her in an ominous aura of dangerous power. What she could see of his masked face was solid, as though he were a statue carved out of stone. Bianca was about to gasp and shrink back into her little ball of protection, when she caught sight of his glowing eyes. Unlike his rigid features, they were soft and quiet, shining gently in the calming candlelight which danced across his face; almost as though he were speaking to her through them, saying, "Trust me ." And suddenly, she couldn't look away. Once again he had grabbed her mind with the power of his eyes and tightened his grip so that she would never go free until he at last relented and turned from her. Holding out a trembling hand, he gently caressed her pallid cheek with his deathly fingers.
"Don't be afraid...." he murmered softly, still hypnotizing her with his gaze. "Christine .... Please don't be afraid....." Pulling her head back from his thin hand, her green eyes wide with fear, Bianca stared up at him in confusion.
"Who- Wha- What did you say? Christine ?" A great wave of saddness swept through him, and she could almost see it wash over his body, causing the weak foundation of his spirit to collapse in on itself. The look in his eyes held such pain that Bianca felt hot tears of unknown anguish run down her own face, scalding her skin.
"Why are you here ? Why did you come back , when it is so obvious that I still frighten you? I know you are afraid, Christine . I can see it in your eyes. It is the same look you wore when I first brought you to my home . The same look you wore when you finally realized your Angel was merely a horrifying monster." His breathing was coming in hard, deep gasps, as though he had just been pulled out of a churning lake, and Bianca saw the gentleness in his eyes begin to fade; a frightening combination of hurt, rage and despair taking its place.
"Erik , what are you saying? Who is Christine ? What is the matter with you? Your eyes, they're...." Her voice trailed off into nothingness, as his expression grew more intense. Grasping her shoulders fiercely, he brought his masked face close to her's, his gaze burning itself into her own.
"Why? I don't understand? Why!? I allowed you to go! You were free from the horrible nightmare; the terrifying demon who murders stagehands and deceives innocent chorus girls with his heavenly voice... It was all over for you, wasn't it Christine ? You had your Vicomte , you knew that from the very beginning . All you needed was the freedom from your Angel , and all of this would finally come to an end. You should have asked, Christine . You know there is nothing on this earth I wouldn't give to you." His eyes softening slightly, Erik's voice suddenly grew quieter, and more dangerous; like the deadly eye of a destructive hurricane. Bianca could hear his raspy breathing combine with her own, and she half-wondered if he would attempt to strangle her to death, as he had during their first encounter . He was clearly insane; a raving, delerious lunatic who experienced delusion and recollections of some horrible past. His grasp on her shaking shoulders weakened as silent tears began to run down his face, dissolving into the chilly air before they reached the hard ground.
"But you didn't ask, did you? You didn't ask for your freedom; you were simply going to steal it and run away into the night , like the cowardly little theif that you are! I surprised you though, didn't I Christine ? I gave it to you anyway. I told you there was nothing I wouldn't deny you. So you left; without a sound escaping your cursed lips, silently praying never to return to this nightmarish dungeon , while Erik , poor Erik was forbidden to follow. The wretched, bottom-feeding fish who loved a little songbird was left behind to wallow in the bleak misery he created for himself. Is that why you have returned , Christine ? You wanted to see what became of Poor Erik ? To show him the wonderful life you now live, with your wealth and your Vicomte ? No longer the sparrow with a voice of pure gold, but a horrible little mockingbird, come to mock her once cherished teacher with his own decision ! Why, Christine ? Why!? You didn't even say goodbye...." His voice broke, and a terrible cry of despair escaped from his throat as he finally released her; flinging her across the room onto the hard ground. Staggering over to the frightening throne, he grasped it fiercely and lowered himself to the floor in a shaking ball of terrible hurt and dangerous rage. Bianca could feel her chest heaving with deep sobs, as though she was somehow sharing in his incredible pain. For what seemed like an eternity, she sat staring at the broken remains of what she assumed was once a fine man, wondering whether he would return from his delusion or simply die from anguish and unbearable cold. Too afraid to allow him to escape from her hollow eyes, she studied him closely as his breathing gently slowed and the half-murmered pleas to the unknown Christine quieted, until silence returned once again to the eerie Labyrinth and a deathly chill hung in the air. Bianca was so afraid of him now , that she could barely move. Her mind spun with paralyzing fear and unanswered questions; taunting her subconsious and pushing her into a state of quiet paranoia. Her knees pulled tightly against her chest, she sat on the damp floor, her green eyes peering at her pitiful host with fierce concentration. She felt almost as though she were caught in the den of a frighteningly large lion who would awake and catch her in his powerful grasp should she shift even an inch. As hot tears drifted slowly down her pale face, Bianca suddenly realized she couldn't distinguish whether they were for Erik's suffering or her own.
~ Hmmmmm, I know it still has progressing to do, but don't worry! More is coming ! Thanks for reading!~