Chapter 4

Erik slowly surveyed his surroundings. Candles were glowing everywhere, mounted in the stone walls, in vases above the organ. Erik did not recognize anything, and yet he felt utterly at home in this eccentric cellar he seemed to be in. Or he would have, if he wasn't so confused abut what'd happened. All he could remember was the spinning, and winds, and – Christine! Where was she? He could feel her, as though she was part of the air, and yet he couldn't see her.

"Erik!" an anguished call from across the– lake? The lake that Erik had just noticed. Without hesitation he leapt down and into the swan-shaped gondola lying at the lake's shore, pushing off towards that beautiful voice.

Once Christine had found the crack between the mirror and the wall, she had been able to pry the two apart and get into the dank hallway beyond. Running lightly, she had ignored the freezing water dripping from the ceiling and the colder and colder air that brushed her skin and chilled her through her thin Aminta costume.

She had not been counting on the lake, however. Christine could've kicked herself. In her desperation, she had forgotten about how she would get across. She had been distracted by the feeling spreading through her of Erik's nearness.

She could feel him now. He was in the breeze. Hopefully she called his name, not daring to take her eyes off the lake in front of her.

Then she saw him, unfocused at first, cloudy from the mist rising off the lake, gliding across in the gondola. Christine knew without a doubt that this was the same Erik she had met in music lessons.

So full of relief she didn't know what to say, Christine could only stand there dumbly and stare. Erik was wearing a mask… was that simply because he was now her phantom, in the same way she was now Christine, or…? She peered closer at the half of his face she could see, and realized the scar was missing.

"Oh!" She thought. "Of course, the surgery hasn't happened yet…"

Quietly Erik said, "Why, hello Christine." He held out his hand and helped her into the gondola, relishing the feel of her skin on his, never wanting to let go.

Christine could no longer stay silent. Bursting with all she had to say, she said the first thing that came into her head, "Erik! Erik, we are somehow in the Phantom of the Opera, in 1863, and I don't know how it happened, I asked Madame Giry, and- and she said it was 1863..."

Erik had stiffened. "My aunt is here?"

"No, no, I thought it was her too, it looks just like her, but when I asked her what had happened, she told me I had fainted, and oh, I am so frustrated and confused, but somehow we've traveled back in time, how? Because—" Christine suddenly felt very dizzy. The spinning was happening again. "Stop!" she cried wildly, trying to grab a hold of Erik, but unable to see as the winds of time swirled around.

For Christine had asked time a question, and time intended to answer her.

Francine Giry glanced at the book lying on the table beside the crackling fire. Something caused the pages to flutter. Leaning back into the deep cushions behind her, Francine reached for the book, and then drew her hand away. "It's best not to know yet…" she murmured, and sighed.

Time was swirling all around her, so much it seemed as though Christine could feel it, as though time were just another tangible object.

Exactly as the first spinning, scenes were becoming visible, only now moving slow enough for Christine to recognize them.

There was Erik, and yet it wasn't Erik, more what seemed to be a shell of him, sitting with his face in his hands. He lifted his head and Christine gasped at the deformity there. It seemed as though there was too much bone in half of Erik's forehead and the cheekbone underneath.

And now there was Erik again, and suddenly there was Christine herself. The Christine in the scene briefly touched Erik's hand, then turned and left. Erik stood and stared after the spot Christine had stood in, eyes blazing, face set. Then the scene seemed to become a puff of smoke, which turned into the burning Opera Garnier.

Christine now could feel herself falling; the winds in her ears were becoming fainter. Desperate for an explanation for what she had seen, Christine screamed, "Why are you showing me these things!"

With a quiet hiss in her ear, time answered, "Because you must fix them."