As Madame Giry closed the door behind them, Christine looked around at the rose filled room. Giant bouquets covered nearly every inch of the dressing room, all of them a brilliant shade of pink. She turned around and looked at Madame Giry who gave her a knowing look. Christine furrowed her brow slightly.

"You did very well, my dear." Madame Giry replied as she walked to the vanity and picked something up.

She then turned back to Christine and handed her a red rose with a black satin ribbon tied to its stem. The frown on her face deepened and then faded into a fearful realization.

"He is pleased with you."

Christine did not respond, but simply stared at the flower in her hands and thinking about its provider. She had not even noticed that Madame Giry had left. Subconsciously, she drifted over to the vanity and sat down in front of the mirror. The Phantom was pleased with her. Who else could it have been? Surely it was not from Raoul, or else he would have made his presence known.

What did this mean for her now? Should she be expecting the Opera Ghost to appear before her doorstep? Maybe it was just a simple gesture of congratulations from him. She was reading too far into it. The Ghost was not a man, he was a myth. Someone must have been playing a very cruel joke with her. And yet, why was there a nagging feeling in the back of her mind?

Christine was far too deep in concentration to notice the soft knock on the door or the source of the knocking walk in.

"Little Lotte, where is your scarf?" asked a friendly, familiar voice. "You can't have lost it already!"

The question had completely distracted her train of thought and when she looked up she saw the Vicomte de Changy walking over the threshold. Christine's face had brightened up at the site of him and she had discarded the rose on the dresser.

"Raoul!" she exclaimed excitedly.

He laid another bouquet of flowers on a nearby table before kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands.

"My dear Christine, how beautiful you've grown."

Christine felt her face flush crimson.

"How have you been, Raoul?"

"Wonderful now that I've finally found you!" he replied as he hugged her.

Christine tried to hide her confusion with a smile and hugged him back.

"Now that you've found me? What do you mean?"

"I had heard about your father's death and I was completely devastated. He was like a second father to me…I knew you had no other family, so I tried to convince my parents to take you in. We looked for you for years, Christine."

The sincerity in his tone nearly brought Christine to tears. He had been looking for her? That couldn't be. He was of wealthy, noble birth and she was the daughter of a poor musician.

"You need not have worried about me Raoul, I have been protected by an Angel." She assured him.

Raoul smiled at her, but Christine could tell he was not quite sure what she was speaking of.

"Do you remember when Father would tell us the story of the Angel of Music?"

"Of course, it was your favorite."

Christine's facial expressions became serious; a mysterious gleam shown in her eyes.

"Father said, before he died, that he would send the Angel of Music to me…well, he has Raoul. I have been visited by the Angel."

"Well with the way you sang tonight I would have expected no less!"

He believed her then? Of all people, she knew that he would! Only he could understand her, only he would be able to grasp the pain of the loss that she felt. Only Raoul would believe when she told him that the Angel came to her.

"And now we shall go to supper." Raoul said, rising from his place in front of her.

"I can't, Raoul…the Angel of Music would forbid it. He's very strict."

"Surely he would not object if I promise not too keep you out late!" Raoul laughed.

Christine was becoming upset and a little anxious. What if the Angel was listening to them right now? 'You foolish girl!' he would scold. 'What did I tell you about this! You've not only spoken to another of me, but now you've betrayed your loyalty?'

"I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte." Raoul opened the door and left before she could let out another protest.

She began to panic. Any moment now she was sure she would be struck down from the heavens and damned to spend eternity in hell. A life without music or her Angel. She waited…and waited…and waited…

Nothing happened. Christine didn't know whether she should be relieved or frightened. Perhaps the Angel hadn't heard anything. Quietly, she let out a breath she had not known she had been holding and began the task of taking off the elegant dress she was wearing. She would have Meg help her remove this blasted corset when she got back to the dormitories.

When she emerged from behind the changing curtain, tying the white satin robe around her, the candles blew out, leaving her in almost complete darkness. A light from an unknown source lingered above the huge mirror at the very back of the dressing room.

Christine felt her heart beating rapidly and a cold chill sweep through her body. She was not alone, she could feel it deep within her soul.

"Who is this insolent boy, this slave of fashion that dares to share in my triumph!"

The deep, outraged voice roared loudly in the tiny dressing room. Christine could have sworn she felt the floorboards shake beneath her. She was so overwhelmed with fright that it took a moment before she found her voice.

"Angel, please! I told him no! I knew you would be angry…"

The voice became cold and relentless. "Is this how you repay me, Christine? Is this how you betray my forgiveness?"

Christine bowed her head in shame. "I only live to please and serve you, Master. I couldn't bear living life without you to guide me…"

"Flattering child," The voice had returned to its usual pleasant and comforting tone. "There is something I wish to share with you this night."

"What is your will?"

"For you to know me, see why in shadow I hide…"

Christine raised her face to the heavens. Could this be happening? She had waited for years to lay eyes upon her Angel. A giant weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders at the knowledge of her worthiness.

"Look at your face in the mirror, Christine. Come to me my angel…"

As if in a trance, she turned to look at the mirror. A swirling mist seemed to have filled the room and slowly, savoring each step, she walked to the other end.

A shape began to take form in the full-length mirror. The first thing that had become clear to her was the gleam of a white mask that covered the right side of his face. The figure became more and more defined as she neared the glass and it seemed to open before her.

The masked man offered her a gloved hand and Christine accepted it without question, so transfixed she was by his dark, mystifying beauty. And without a glance behind her, she stepped through the mirror and into the Phantom's world...