It was dark. After a moment, a candle suddenly flickered to life and the gentle strains of someone playing a pipe organ somewhere began wafting through Sara's despairing cloud of self-hatred. Even though she knew her eyes were still closed, she could still see by the light of the candle. The room was dark, with stone walls, and she could feel the dank air gently caressing her tear-stained face. She recognized this place, but the scene was not complete. Not yet…not until…

"Bonsoir, ma chere." His voice immediately lifted her spirits. Elated, she turned to face him, and as usual, her breath was stolen from her immediately. He was standing a few paces away, wearing a beautiful black suit, a white ruffed shirt peeking mischievously out from underneath his chin. The buttons on the vest were polished onyx, and on the shirt, polished pearl. His hands were on his hips, and he had a heavy black velvet cape about his shoulders, the underside of which was laced with gentle curving designs, mimicking the designs on his black velvet vest.

Then, he did something she'd never seen him do before. He reached up and carefully, deftly lifted his hood off his head and let if fall down onto his shoulders. For the first time ever, Sara was allowed to see the face of the man who had coaxed her deepest fantasies out into the light. His shining black hair was slicked back, away from his face, which suited Sara just fine. She could only see half his face, since the other half had a polished ivory mask over it. His skin was pale, but the dim light of the candle made I less obvious. His lips were full and he wore an impish smirk. But the most amazing feature was the one she could see even behind the mask. His eyes were a snapping, silvery blue, with a sparkle that belied the darkness she could see just below the surface.

After a moment of surprise, Sara broke into a smile and ran towards him. "Erik! I'm so glad to see you!" She reached him and wrapped her arms around his chest in a friendly hug. "You wouldn't believe how awful it's been with—"

"Sara," he cut her off mid-word. Sara sensed a hint of sadness in his voice, and she pulled back, confused. "My dear, I fear I have but further infelicities to burden your heavy heart with…" He turned his face away, the smirk gone, replaced by a troubled frown.

She pulled away from him completely now, a sense of foreboding pervading her entire mind and body. "Erik, what are you—"

He suddenly turned back to face her again. "The Ghost of Song, Sara! I am the Ghost of Song! Not Erik!" He sighed and seemed to recompose himself after the unexpected outburst. "And it is time this ghost returned to his mausoleum. I will not be seeing you again, my dear. The time we shared was a gift for you, and you should cherish it forever." His face and voice became cold again. "But I no longer have time to waste on someone who will never amount to any thing but a mediocre dancing girl." He turned sharply on his heel and started to walk away.

Sara reached forward and grabbed his arm. "No, wait, Erik, I don't—"

He whipped around again and grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully and pushing her backwards. "Don't what? Don't understand? Well, some things are not meant for us to understand! I have my reasons, but all you need to know is that you are nothing to me anymore!" The comment seared like molten lead coursing through her heart. Ever since Sara had first met him, Erik had been the one person she could count on to sit silently and listen to her, and even if he had nothing to say on the subject, he was the best silent counsel she could have asked for. He made sympathetic noises where appropriate, and when she had finished, if she really needed it, Sara could always count on him to appear from the shadows and offer her his shoulder.

But this time…this time, he was being…a monster! Her sadness turned to fear when she realized how tightly he was holding her wrist, and how strong his grip was. She was wary of just how powerful he was, and of how easily he could snap her arm in two if he felt the urge. She struggled to keep the tears out of her eyes, lest she incur his wrath by her show of weakness. She prayed he would not see the fear in her eyes, knowing without a doubt that he would; the Ghost of Song was very perceptive. "Crying, my dear? For fear, no doubt. Good." He pushed her away, releasing her wrist and throwing her to the ground. "It is well and right that you should fear me, for I am the Ghost of Song. My will is fickle, and you displease me." He sneered and turned away, speaking over his shoulder. "Be glad I am only leaving you."

Sara stared at him for a long moment in disbelief, trying hard to comprehend what he was saying. Suddenly, a shaft of light pierced the darkness, and someone called her name. Startled, Erik glanced in the direction of the light, then took one last look at Sara and vanished into the shadows.


"No!" Sara suddenly sat up and searched the dressing room frantically for and traces of the Ghost. Erik was nowhere to be seen, but Meg was walking swiftly across the room, her wide-open gait of an accomplished and well-trained ballerina no less pronounced at the quick pace. Sara reflected that she had to work hard to maintain that stance, and undeserved resentment struggled to make its way into her conscious mind. She fought it back. She knew that if she was going to survive the next few hours, the last person she could afford to alienate was her best and, after Christine saw what Sara had done to her vanity, probably her only remaining friend.

"Sara, are you okay? Who was that? Did he hurt you? How did he get in?" Meg grabbed Sara's shoulders and looked her over, checking for injury.

"No, I'm not…I mean, I'm alright…well, I mean…I guess…I don't know." Strangely, Sara realized, that was the correct answer to all four questions. She really didn't know much of anything right now. Nothing was making sense anymore, and all she really understood was that her life was spinning completely out of control.

"Thank goodness." Meg hugged her tightly around the shoulders. "I don't see anything." She leaned back a bit, taking one of the ragged edges of the tear in her costume. "Except this. Did he tear your outfit?"

Sara shook her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. "No, that's…" she sighed and smiled sadly, tears returning to the corners of her eyes. "That's the last straw."

Meg raised an eyebrow at her. "The last straw? Of what? I don't understand."

Sara sighed again. "For your mother. I guess she just couldn't take it anymore." She looked Meg in the eyes. "I have a few hours to pack up and leave. I am no longer welcome at the Opera Populaire."

Meg listened, her mouth slightly opened, and then shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, she can't do that, not over something like this. This isn't your fault. I mean…she tends to exaggerate and go overboard, you know how Mother can be. I'll talk to her. You'll see. I'll get her to—"

Sara caught her friend as she stood to make good on her promise. "No, Meg. This time, she's not exaggerating. She's right. I've had fun, and trust me, it's been an amazing and wonderful chapter of my life, but it's time I got a grip on reality and saw that I just don't have a future here. I don't have your drive; I don't have Christine's talent; I…I'm just mediocre." She sighed as Meg sat back down next to her. "I'm just dragging everyone down." She looked Meg in the eyes. "Especially you."

"No…" Meg shook her head, tears starting to collect in her eyes as well. "No, you aren't. You are my drive, Sara. No matter how good I am or how good I want to be, I can never keep up with it unless you're there to keep me from driving myself crazy. You're funny, you're calm, you keep your head no matter what's going on, you're…" she struggled for the right words, "…you're my living comic relief!" Sara chuckled and Meg smiled sadly. "It's true, Sara! I don't know what I'd do without you here to help me."

"I guess you'll find out."

Both girls sat silently for a moment, contemplating the conversation. It wasn't over, not by a long margin, but both realized that if they ever finished it, it would turn the final page in Sara's career at the Opera House for good, and neither of them wanted to initiate that.

Meg broke the ice again. "So…uh…where will you go?"

Sara shrugged. "I guess I'll go back and live with my parents."

Meg smiled. "Oh, good, then you'll still be here in Paris."

Sara nodded, smiling back. "Oh, of course. How else would I be able to come back and visit all my friends?"

Meg chuckled. "Yeah, you had better, you wench." Both girls laughed out loud, silently denying the fact that they both knew it would be quite impossible for Sara to ever return to the Opera Populaire for any reason except to watch a performance. Only performers, stagehands, and people important to the show were ever allowed backstage.

There was another beat of silence. This time, Sara broke the ice. "Oh, I forgot to ask; how did Christine do?"

"Oh, that's right, you didn't see." Meg smiled a little. "Well, she was amazing, but then, we knew she would be, right?" She chuckled a little. Sara just nodded affirmatively. "It was a little strange, though; I found her after the show down in the Chapelle. I guess she was lighting a candle for her father, you know, sort of dedicating the performance to him, I guess. Anyway, I told her how well she did, and she said the strangest thing. She told me that she sang so well because she was tutored by some mysterious…thing…I guess it was a man…but she called him the 'Angel of Music.' Isn't that weird?" Meg chuckled and looked at Sara. "Sara? I said, isn't that weird?"

Sara didn't say anything for a moment. Her heart had sailed through the pit of her stomach and plummeted into her feet. "Did you say she called him the 'Angel of Song?'"

Meg shook her head, frowning. "No, no, the 'Angel of Music.' Why, have you heard of him?"

Sara looked at Meg, holding her by the shoulders. "Meg, I need to talk to Christine, now!"

Meg was startled, but conciliatory. "Uh…alright. She's in her dressing room, I think. Come on."

Sara jumped up and threw a cape around her body to cover the tear in her costume and followed Meg out into the hall. Her heart was pounding furiously. If her guess was right, and Christine's Angel was her Ghost, then maybe she could ask Christine some questions, and finally get some real answers…