Helena chewed her cinnamon bun with glee.

Still thinking on her earlier question….the opera ghost?

For as long as Helena could remember she always had a sinking feeling that there was something that she was not being told. That everyone else knew.

"Agnes." Helena raised her head.

"Yes?" Agnes said rubbing her hands on a napkin.

"Can you tell me what mother said…when she died?" Agnes looked at Helena with a hint of hesitation.

"Umm, what do you mean?" Helena looked down at the remains of her cinnamon bun, to refrain from meeting Agnes' eyes.

"I mean, what were her last words? I was outside of her bedroom, and she was talking to you and Papa…" Agnes coughed.

"Oh, yes. She was discussing your schooling, and such."

Helena was not pleased with this answer; she had heard something else that night.

Something was said that is now the first piece of her mystery.

"I remember her talking to someone else, after you and father left. And she told the person this. 'You must meet her; meet her on her 16th birthday at my grave.'" Agnes gave a slight scoff.

"Oh, yes. You were 14 years old, and proved that you had an imagination.

You are almost 16. You will be tomorrow. I don't want you going to your mother's grave tomorrow…okay?" Agnes looked at Helena with a serious look.

"Why?" Helena knew why.

"Because, this farfetched business is, well it's driving me crazy."

"I am sorry Agnes, but I visit mother's grave everyday, including my birthdays."

Agnes looked at her again, this time the look on her face was fierce. "NO!" and that is final. Helena was shocked.

"Oh, fine!" she said. "I will if you think it is that important…" Helena was almost crying.

Agnes said "Oh, don't fret, I shouldn't have yelled."

Agnes looked happy all of a sudden. Yes, but I do have a little present for you." Agnes handed her an envelope.

"Uh." Helena looked at the letter with surprise.

"No, no. It's not from me; it's from your mother." Agnes said. "She told me to give that to you on your sixteenth birthday. Chances are it's a nice lump sum, or perhaps a certificate." Helena smiled.

"Oh, I can't wait." Helena ripped it open. "Hmm, it's just a letter."

Helena read it, its contents read:

My dear Helena, this is your mother.

I would like to share a few things with you, I have something to tell you, and feared that my health would not allow me to tell you by the time you were sixteen so I wanted to tell you in this letter. I love you Helena, and I am sorry that I had to leave so soon, if you are reading this chances are I did not survive.

I wanted to tell you that everything you were told by anyone about the opera ghost is false. You are a smart girl, and I suspected you would not take their answers to heart.

Raoul is a good man, and loved you like his own daughter, if he had known the truth I am sure that he would still love you. The truth is, he is not your father…We never talked much after those horrible sequences that took place. I am sorry that you have had to live in such a scandal. I am not getting to the point.

Okay the truth is that your father is not Raoul, he is in fact…the opera ghost.

I cannot give you any information other than his name, Erik. Now you understand why your name is Skire Helena backwards it is Erik's Helena. . . I am again sorry that you have had to carry this question in your mind for so long. You have my love always,

Please be at the grave-site, oh my god, my gravesite and meet your father on the night of your 16th birthday, it is of utmost importance. There you will meet a man named Ephraim, he is the son of one of your father's most trusted allies, he will help you in anyway possible. I would like you to know again, that I love you, and that is all I can say. I am too weak my darling daughter to write anymore…I wish I was there to answer more of your questions…

Love,

Mama

P.S your father loves his darling daughter and sang to you in your sleep.