Part III: A Heavenly Bargain: Angel of Silence
"It's over now, the Music of the Night!" And with that broken cry, he smashed the mirrors that faced him as they always had, cold and blank. With every strike of the candelestick, the lattice of their breaks spread over the glass; his heart, his soul, his hopes, and his dreams had all been shattered, and lay in painful shards, just like the silvered bits that fell to the ground.
Shateiel watched in silence, as was customary. He was a mute of an angel, and had never been overly fond of him. His music created such a racket, that lute crying out over every other sound in Heaven. The constant melodies and songs that flitted down to earth began with him. Thirty-three years it had been. Thirty-three years of silence in Heaven. Music had been taken over by another, but it wasn't the same. But now... The man, choking on sobs of grief, destroyed the final mirror, and passed the golden threshold, closing the crimson curtain behind him.
Shateiel had never liked him, but he couldn't help but feel compassion for the man racing blindly down a dark corridor. The angel followed him to a tiny alcove, hidden to everyone, except the one who now stopped beside it, and collapsed inside. He watched as the mortal stared down at the sparkling ring in his hand, and wept. For long moments he was powerless to stop his tears of despair and regret. The cold diamonds merely glittered in reply. Shateiel knew the mob would not find him, nor would the fire reach this far.
"Show yourself."
The angel started. The voice was quenched, but steady.
Slowly, as not to frighten the man, Shateiel revealed himself to the man; a tall being of fair face and hair, with intense eyes, robed in white, crowned with light, and a burst of white feathers behind him. He saw the glow of otherworldly light shining on the rock, illuminating the man's disfigured face; at first shocked, then simply incredulous.
"I-I never believed. Not truly," he whispered. "But I could always feel something..."
Shateiel knelt before him, and touched his index finger to the man's parted lips. With the man's own voice, Shateiel spoke. "Is it truly over, your music of the night? Would you like to ease the pain you feel now? I could grant you an eternity's peace, and you would never feel this heartbreak again. I am offering you this exchange: If you give up your voice, you will be granted your immortal memories and all traces of this mortal lifetime will vanish from your mind, Israfel."
The mortal's jaw dropped open. Israfel? he mouthed. Realizing that he couldn't speak, he pressed his hand to his throat, looking distressed.
"Yes, you are the Angel of Music. I gave you my silence to speak with you. Fear not, if you choose to keep your voice, it will be yours again. But you will not recall this meeting." Shateiel smiled kindly at him. "Heaven has been very quiet, Israfel. None of the music you so loved floats across the planes. If we were to switch positions, and you becom the Angel of Silence, you could know contentment once more; reign over serenity and quiet. Just think of it. A secret bargain."
Think of it? Once more, his lips formed the words, but no sound came from them. The man slowly brought up his hand and touched his temple with his fingertips, then pressed his palm to his scarred cheek; he then swiftly ran his hand back, over the expanse of exposed scalp. He looked down at the ring that he still clutched. He mouthed another word: Christine.
With resolve, he looked up at the angel, and shook his head firmly.
Shateiel rose, and answered, "And the rest is silence."
Instantly, the angel disappeared, leaving the Phantom of the Opera huddled and weeping, with bittersweet memories of an unrequited love, and a voice to move the heavens.
Note: Shateiel is the Angel of Silence.
