Christine sat in the empty chapel praying for her father's soul. It had been a while since she had done this—her normal ritual of everyday prayer had been interrupted by long, hard rehearsals to catch up from the break of the Masquerade ball season— so tonight she stayed longer than she normally would have; her father must have been missing her. The blisters from her newly-made pointe shoes were throbbing, and to walk more than a few feet was absolute agony for her…not to mention the aches of pulled and strained leg muscles from the prolonged rehearsals. Somehow, though, this simple act of speaking to God and her own father through prayer made the pains numb and brought on a sweet, simple nirvana of the physical and spiritual beings.

Her eyes closed and her mouth speaking soundless words to God, she could almost see her father as he was in life seemingly ages ago. He smiled at her in her mind's eye and blew her a kiss, just before the sound of laughter from the rowdy stage crew brought her back to where she really was…a dirty chapel underneath the famed Opera Populaire inhabited by only rats and those faithful to God. Christine suddenly felt the sting in her legs as her eyes opened to the dim silence of the chapel. The nirvana gone, she sighed as she sat down on the moist stone floor and stretched her legs. Humming a tune from a dream, she dared to do something only done on the rooftop of the opera house when she was sure she was alone…

Erik was making the rounds through the secret passageways of the opera to make sure no one had found something they shouldn't have, such as a way into his lair. In the back of his mind, he was contemplating the kiss Meg had given him the week before. Could she have really meant that she loved him, or was he reading into things? The kiss could've meant something else, after all, but what? His head ached from thinking so much about it. His music was suffering, too: he couldn't finish one sheet since she had visited him. And not only was that troubling him, but also the thought of Christine. She was somewhere in the Opera Popuaire, to be sure, and at every turn and in every corridor he hoped to catch a glimpse of her beautiful form.

It was nearing midnight when he heard a hauntingly beautiful verse sung, echoed through the chamber he was in: "…all I want is freedom, a world with no more night…and you, always beside me, to guard me and to hide me…" It came from the chapel, to which Erik hurriedly traveled to. The song became clearer and more beautiful with each step he took, and upon reaching the entrance to the chapel, he stopped and slid open a small window in the wall, large enough for his face to be visible. He gazed upon the girl with the angelic voice…his Christine, the one he knew to be music when he first heard her speak.
"…that's all I ask of you," she finished, and as her echoes faded away Erik spoke without meaning to.
"That was beautiful. You really are very talented." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew he had made either the biggest mistake of his life or the best action he could possibly take. Strangely, he couldn't tell which one it was.

Christine looked extremely frightened for a moment before hesitantly responding. "Who…who are you, what are you?" She looked around the chamber for the source of the voice, and when finding none, she visibly shook while she said, "Are you a ghost?"

"No…" Erik started, feeling horrible to have frightened the beautiful young woman, so he hurriedly tried to think of an explanation.

She stopped shaking and her face brightened. "Are you an angel, then?" He was silent as she looked about the room for him, and then found his face high upon the wall in front of her. "I can see you

"You could call me an angel," Erik responded slowly.
"Are you an angel of music?" Christine asked hopefully, her eyes suddenly sparkling with hope in the weak candlelight.

"You could call me that if you wanted to, also, but—"

"Did my father send you? When he died, he promised to send the angel of music to me for vocal training…you must be him then! Who else could you be but my promised angel of music?"

There was a pause before he finally said, "Yes, Christine, I am your angel of music, and I will be there for you always."

"…and then he told me that he would be there for me always!" Christine finished in a hushed tone to Meg, who had been rudely awoken from a rather pleasant dream involving Erik. The sleepy-eyed Meg stared at the wide-eyed Christine for a moment before lying back onto her bed and pulling her covers up to her chin.

With her eyes closed, she murmured, "Christine, you were dreaming. You must have fallen asleep while praying, then you woke up after having that crazy dream. You then must have ran up here, thinking you had an extremely religious experience, then rudely awoke me." She opened her eyes and looked at her friend. Christine didn't look as if she had fallen asleep at all that night.
"I have been awake since five o'clock this morning, and I didn't fall asleep once," she said coldly. "I know what I heard, weather you want to believe me or not. My father has come through in his promise and he sent me the angel of music to protect me. I thought that if you were really that good of a friend you would believe me, but I can see that you really—"

"No, Christine. I believe you, but it's so late, how do you know you didn't simply fall asleep? Rehearsals have been very tiring lately," Meg interrupted. Christine took a breath to defend herself once more, but simply sighed instead. The two girls merely looked at each other for a few moments before Meg broke the silence. "So…what did this supposed angel of music look like, if you did see him at all?"

"He was just a floating face high up on a wall…masked, but handsome…" she said with a far off look and a dreamy smile. "…really a perfect angel…"

Meg froze. The only masked man she knew of was Erik, and he really couldn't be that stupid to try something like this…could he? But it did sound somewhat accidental for him to talk to her. 'Please let him have not done this…Please, make it that she only was dreaming,' she half prayed. Quietly, she said,"...Maybe you should go talk to my mother about this. She'll be able to tell the difference." Christine smiled, nodded happily, and then rushed down to her second mother's quarters.

Marie was laying in bed wide awake, trying to figure out somenew choreography for her dancers when she heard a knock on her door. It opened before she could respond, and Christine walked in. She went to the bed as Marie sat up, and then Christine sat down quickly. She looked both worried and excited, and before Marie could say a word, she said quickly, "The angel of music cameto me. He told me he would be there for me always, and he's come to train me." Christinemet Marie's eyes. "Have you ever seen or heard of a masked angel before?"

Marie paused, knowing who this angel was, before saying, "I have, and I know of him also. He has spoken of you before to me. He is indeed real, and he asked me to give you lessons. This angel is a great musician and teacher, the one that weaves the music into all of our lives." She paused again. "I will arrange the lessons with him, when I see the angel of music tomorrow. He is, indeed, your promised angel."