Sara turned very slowly, hoping to postpone her execution as long as possible. Suddenly, as if an edict from God himself, a voice from the front signalled that the group was fifteen seconds from going onstage. Madame Giry released her, knowing that if her broken body was not pitched into the alley behind the theatre tonight, Sara would be performing tomorrow, and as such would need all the rehearsal she could get.

Temporarily safe from the Madame's wrath, Sara sighed and tried to mentally prepare herself to go onstage. Hannibal was a very chaotic opera, but like any piece of artistic chaos, was actually very organized. However, in order to keep the façade of chaos alive, the organization was very complicated and difficult to follow, even for the dancers. Especially for the dancers. And Sara, for all her singing talent, had a very difficult time keeping track of complicated dance routines. Listening to the music, Sara counted the beats. 1…2…3…4…1…2…3...4…

Monsieur Reyer yelled to Signor Ubaldo Piangi about his mispronunciation of 'Rome.' Piangi yelled something back in his thick Spanish accent and the show continued, without missing even half a beat. Signora Carlotta Giudicelli came down the stage in her overly garish costume, singing in the horribly wheedling voice that befitted a diva who had clearly overstayed her welcome. Sara winced a little as she and Meg giggled to each other. Sara knew that no matter how M. Lefevre tried to deny it, Carlotta's days were numbered here at the Opera Populaire, not only because she was past her prime, but also because she was far too proud to accept anything but what she considered perfection. Naturally, Signora's idea of perfection was rather narrow, and usually hinged on her personal happiness. Anytime anything went wrong, she walked off stage. Anytime someone missed a cue, she walked off stage. Anytime she missed a note, she blamed M. Reyer, and then walked off stage. Anytime she missed her mark on stage and ran into someone else, she blamed the other actor, called for her doggie, and walked off stage. She was, in a word, hopeless. Too garish to stay, too famous to leave, she was set to be a blemish on the Opera Populaire stage until she removed herself from it.

Suddenly, a commotion stopped the rehearsal, and in the midst of the flurry of voices on stage, Sara caught the sound of M. Lefevre's quiet voice cutting its way through the bedlam. He was calling for silence, and in a moment, he got his wish. Anyone within earshot of the stage immediately left the wings to see what the hold up was, including Sara, Meg, Christine, and the rest of the chorus girls. Sara eventually found a steady viewing spot between Christine and Carlotta, who gave her a single arrogant glance before turning back to M. Lefevre. M. Reyer, clearly flustered by the interruption, was gripping his baton with knuckles as white as his hair, thin from years of pulling it out in frustration. Sara almost felt sorry for him. He really was a kind and gentle man, but like Madame Giry, had spent far too much time dealing with narcissists, and it was aging him at an alarming rate.

M. Reyer leaned on his music stand, angrily addressing the owner of the Opera Populaire. "Monsieur Lefevre, I am rehearsing!"

M. Lefevre gently waved the conductor off and turned to address the crowd onstage. "Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please, if I could have you attention, thank you." Everyone leaned in closer to hear what he was going to say, even though it was unlikely to be a surprise. Rumours of the manager's impending retirement had started circulating about a month ago, and in the past four weeks, they had done nothing but gain momentum. It would be a relief for him finally to announce it to everyone, since rumours had a way of causing problems both on and off the stage. "As you all know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these are all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire," he turned and motioned to the two men behind him as everyone exchanged knowing glances and whispered 'told you so' to each other, "Monsieur Richard Firmin, and Monsieur Gilles Andre." The two men, who appeared to Sara fully capable of financially supporting the opera house and all its extensions, did not appear to understand the first thing about song or dance. Sara smirked to herself. Much like Carlotta, they were clearly only in the business for the popularity and the monetary gain.

Her fears were confirmed a moment later as the two new owners of the opera house introduced their new patron, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. He bounded up onto the stage, his long blonde hair flowing behind him as the bright stage lights reflected off his beautiful white smile and his chiselled features. Meg leaned over to Christine and whispered, "He's so handsome…" Christine responded too quietly for Sara to hear, not that she cared. Sara rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly. Why was it the pompous aristocrats who were supposed to have all the sex appeal? Sara didn't buy into the hype. Yes, he was wealthy. Yes, he was very attractive. And to be fair, he did have a decent appreciation for the arts, as was displayed by his personal patronage of the opera house. But none of these things held Sara's interest for longer than a minute at a time. What happened if he lost all that money? What if he were in an accident that ruined that sickeningly perfect face of his? What if something happened to the Opera Populaire? Would there be anything left underneath all the layers of ego to support the kind of loving relationship Sara yearned for? She doubted it. Let all the other chorus girls throw themselves at the Vicomte; Sara was holding out. The man of her dreams was out there somewhere…somewhere…

M. Reyer whacked his stand as the new owners went to meet with Madame Giry, so that rehearsal could continue from the moment of interruption. Sara and the chorus girls returned to the wing, where they waited the very short amount of time remaining before they were go on. As Sara followed everyone else out onto the stage, she tried to watch the other dancers around her and keep an eye on the new owners and Madame Giry at the same time. It was not easy, and though Sara could tell that she was telling them about Meg, Christine, and herself, she couldn't discern the exact words without missing a beat and falling on her face, which, as far as M. Reyer was concerned, was punishable by beheading.

Suddenly, a commotion around her announced the end of the song and the prelude to Carlotta's predictable move towards the edge of the stage. She was screeching something about the new managers only enjoying the dancing girls, instead of what she clearly considered the most interesting and beautiful part of the show: herself. Sara sighed and turned around, heading back for the wings to wait for rehearsal to resume, assuming, of course, it would resume. Sig.ra Carlotta's tantrums could last for hours. She always returned, eventually - the limelight had far too great a pull on her for her to stay away for long - but it might be a while.

M. Firmin and M. Andre went after Carlotta, trying to woo her back into singing. Carlotta finally acquiesced to sing an aria for the two desperate owners. Sara groaned, this time audibly. Carlotta took great pride in butchering fine arias, and this aria was particularly beautiful. Sara would be sad to hear it murdered like this.

As Carlotta began, Sara tried hard to ignore the wails of the leading soprano, who was clearly trying far too hard to impress everyone around her to focus on the quality of her singing. She made her way upstage and nonchalantly looked up into the rafters and marvelled at the complexity of the construction of the beautiful building. The Opera Populaire was not as famous for its stage shows as it was for its architecture. After all, there was such a thing as a bad year for the stage, but year after year, the statues and angels still stood, silent and proud, with no change in form or dignity. She felt a swelling of pride knowing that she not only lived inside this building, but actually contributed to the beauty of an already breathtaking construction by displaying her talents on its honoured stage.

Suddenly, she heard a shuffling noise from somewhere above her. At first, she suspected Joseph Buquet, the Chief of the Flies, but suddenly remembered that she had just seen him harassing one of the other female extras backstage, nowhere near the source of the sound. He was not a small man, and any attempt to move across the catwalks at the speed that such a feat would have required would have made an incredible racket. Puzzled, she looked up and scanned the catwalks, noting with interest that Madame Giry was also looking at something above the stage, with an expression that defied definition.

Then she heard another noise, this time accompanied by a flurry of movement above the stage, during which she caught a flash of white that quickly disappeared again into the darkness. Fascinated, Sara continued to search for any further signs of motion, but was pulled from her search by one of the chorus girls shrieking in fear. Concerned, she looked towards the shriek to see what had caused it, and barely caught a glimpse of people diving out of the way as a heavy backdrop swiftly unfurled, making a loud crashing noise as it drew its ropes swiftly through the pulley system it was installed on. People dove upstage and downstage, pushing each other out of the way of the falling canvas. Not surprisingly, no one but Piangi made a particularly extreme effort to rescue the Prima Donna, and the backdrop struck La Carlotta with a glancing blow as it fell.

Stunned, Sara could only watch the chaos around her develop into a concerted effort to make sure the Prima Donna was all right. Carlotta was ranting angrily about the incident, and the new owners were unsuccessfully trying to placate the diva. Sara was standing next to Meg again when the younger dancer murmured excitedly to her two friends, "It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

At her words, Sara felt a sudden thrill travel down her spine. The Phantom of the Opera! He was nothing but a legend as far as most people in the opera house were concerned, but a few, like Meg, Christine, Sara, M. Lefevre, and Madame Giry, knew the truth: someone dark and sinister lived somewhere in the shadows of the opera house. No one was certain where, exactly, but most people believed as Sara did, that he lived up in the rafters, and the catwalks, always staying just a step ahead of Buquet and his men, avoiding detection. Some suggested that he was a magician, and did not need to avoid detection, since he could simply disappear at will. Sara wasn't sure if she believed the story quite that completely, but there was certainly no doubt that whoever the Phantom was, he was a fantastic and chillingly exceptional person…assuming, of course, that it was a person…

M. Lefevre yelled up into the rafters. "Buquet! For God's sake, man, what's going on up there?"

Buquet suddenly reappeared and started reeling the rope connected to the backdrop back in. "Please Monsieur, don't look at me! As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post!" The silence in the theatre was palpable. No one doubted Buquet's words, since admitting that he was not at his post was a serious infraction, especially during a rehearsal; it was Buquet's job to make certain that all the visual effects went off without a hitch. Being away from his post was grounds for punishment, not that anyone honestly expected him to receive any; Joseph Buquet was the most experienced Chief of the Flies to grace the Opera Populaire's backstage in years.

But Buquet's absence was almost worse to consider, as his next words explained. "Please Monsieur, there's no one there! Or if there is…well then, he must be a ghost!" He laughed derisively. He was the only one who did.

Sara's attention was otherwise occupied, however. While everyone else was watching the managers floundering about trying to convince the Prima Donna to stay, Madame Giry was watching something floating through the air backstage, almost out of Sara's sight. She moved a little for a better view and saw two heavy envelopes gently sail down through the musty backstage and settle near Madame Giry's feet. She looked at them in apprehension for a moment before picking them up and reading the names on the fronts. Then, something happened that Sara had never witnessed before. Madame Giry's face paled, and she looked genuinely anxious. Fear was not in Madame Giry's repertoire, but Sara had never even seen the dance instructor unsettled, let alone actually worried. She immediately knew why. She caught a glimpse of the seal on one of the envelopes, and even at this distance, Sara could tell that it was a raised wax seal in the shape of a skull. Another thrill tingled her spine. It was the seal of the Opera Ghost…