Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux. I am merely borrowing the characters I am somewhat worried that no one will understand this very odd product of my imagination, but oh well...

Finale

It all began with scarlet flames. Flames of silk, consuming Death in a gruesome, beautiful costume. The inside had been turned out, and now passion and fire masqueraded proudly, frightening and loving, while the truth hid safely away. She was entranced, and he swept her into his arms. His touch was not cold, not tonight, for tonight he paraded all the fires of Hell. She fell into Hell, then, and her angel caught her, pulling her further down. She threw back her head, dark locks cascading back to reveal the white of her slender throat and her rounded shoulders, from which began the sleeves of her black gown. As he lifted her into the air she stretched her arms upwards and outwards, spreading her wings, long feathery sleeves trailing down to brush the floor.

They were suspended in time, and suddenly alone upon the stage--the Raven and her Angel. Death and his Obsession.

"Sing..." he breathed, his voice pleasant and enigmatic beneath the vibrant mask. She sang, turning her face to the heavens. He sent her voice to the stars, and it echoed off the walls and sank into the plush curtains of the Opera House. He had always controlled the Music--he was the Composer, the Teacher.

"Sing for me." he commanded, and she sang, higher still. She saw the chandelier, saw it fall as it had so many nights ago, but her song was all that could be heard, one note stepping upon the next, her voice painting the air around them. The chandelier shattered without a sound, sending a thousand tiny golden sparks showering down upon them. But Death held her, and she could not be harmed. She sang until she could no longer.

"My Angel..." she exhaled as he lowered her to the ground and set her back upon her dainty feet.

"Sing for only me." he told her, "Greet the twilight with your song, my Raven. My omen of death. The only one who could bring death to Death." She gave a small sob of despair, and he embraced her.

"Do not cry...but remember to sing only for me." he whispered by her ear, and darkness descended upon them both.


Christine awoke to find herself safe in her own bed, her husband's protective embrace around her waist. She slipped from his hold, which was lax in sleep, and hovered over the handsome face of her dear friend and beloved. She leaned in to kiss his lips gently, and then pulled away, turning her gaze from him. She remained that way for a long moment, and then glanced back at him. She lifted one delicate hand and covered his face, then closed her eyes and kissed him once more.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she began to weep, wetting her lips and those of her husband's, the taste of salt teasing at her tongue. The man beneath her woke then, and she removed her hand and her lips, sitting up.

"Christine?" her beloved murmured, concern coloring his tone.

"Raoul," she whispered, her eyes sliding shut, "I have lost my voice."

End.