Chapter 1

Christine Daae sat at her vanity with a young girl named Marie doing her hair for tonight's performance. Marie often helped her now, as Christine did not like to be alone. Still, sometimes she wondered if even the lonely terror she felt when she was alone was better than Marie's incessant prattle.

The Opera Populaire would be performing Hannibal again, with Christine replacing LaCarlotta in the lead this time as well. Christine was somewhat worried. This was the first time she was performing since… she refused to think about it.

Still, whether it is acknowledged or not, there were definitely some differences. For the first time, there sat Christine, dark, expressive eyes set in a rosy face, accented by her chestnut curls, and little Marie. Unseen by the Phantom.

Nothing seemed to have changed. Marie still chattered on about life as a young ballet girl and shared much of the Opera Populaire's gossip. Christine sat quietly, her usually kind eyes took on a dreamy cast, and a thought through tonight's performance. But there was an undeniable difference…

"… I didn't believe it either, at first, but it is from the most, um, the most trustworthy of sources. Oh, and did you hear some stable boy claimed to have seen the Opera Ghost? He was dismissed, though, as we can't have people making up stories! How could he have seen the Opera Ghost? It is, as we all know, dead. Oh, have you seen the new dresses? They are divine…"

Marie, wrapped up in her own words, missed the flash of anger that hit Christine's pretty face. Her smile turned to a grimace, her face twisted into a mask of anger, and her eyes took a glint of hatred. Quickly, this look faded to one of sadness and mourning, and a single whispered word escaped her lips.

"What was that, Mademoiselle?"

"Nothing, Marie dear. Do continue."

Marie returned to her tale, but Christine did not hear a word of it. All she heard was an echo of her whisper in her heart.

"Erik…"