Well, here we go, people, Chapter Two. I hope you like it. This story took me four months to complete. So read on, dear ones, and sate your thirst for good literature! (Okay, that was pathetic, but I try.)

PS- I don' t own any of the characters, don' t sue me, copyright, blah, blah, blah...

Fate

As the years progressed, the dark figure watched the child he had saved grow, but always from afar. She became an accomplished ballerina, and she was in the opera' s choir, but he never dared venture close enough to single her voice out from the crowd. So he lived on, watching his fledgling and imagining her thin, beautiful child' s voice.

So the years passed on, and Erik' s late teenage years passed behind him as he grew into an adult. His age, it seemed, was never equal to his mind, as he matured faster than was right for any human. The girl, though, matured exactly as she was supposed to: from a rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed young girl into a beautiful, strong young woman. Erik connected with something within her. Possibly it was the slightly hardened, wizened look that glinted occasionally in her brown eyes. Or it may have been that he found her to be the perfect, brilliant compliment to his own dark nature, though he never knew her.

She became an obsession to him, but he saw her only from afar, never daring approach his angel, that ethereal beauty on earth. He longed desperately to caress her tender cheeks, gaze into her liquid eyes, taste her sweet lips. He loved everything about her, from her sorrowful glance to her long, dark brown, silky curls, to her pale complexion on a slim, graceful figure. For many years, he denied himself the fullness of these thoughts, for he thought none could ever love one such as he. Anger welled within him, that he should have the woman he loved so close, but that she would never love him because of the dark inheritance Fate had bestowed upon him. These thoughts drove him mad until he could stand them no longer. He swept out of the theater and headed for the peaceful emptiness of the cemetery.

Erik leaned gracefully against an ancient oak, shrouded in shadow, thinking of the girl , of his pain, and of the cruelty of the world to deny him the only thing he had ever truly desired. He stood thus for hours, watching the fading light of the sun, until the color began to seep out of the sky and he was left in his preferred darkness.

Abruptly, he was pulled out of his trance when he heard a voice, high and soft, beautiful and plaintive as a maiden. In a lifetime of dealing in the performance and creation of passionate music, he had never heard such a sound; so pure and innocent, filled with longing and deep sadness. It cut through his hardened soul, piercing him to the heart. The song, expressing the grief of loss, and the desperate hope of redemption, filled him with joy; yet tears pricked his eyes as he listened. His mind spun with the beauty of the strange, sweet sound. He felt if he did not know the source, he would die.

Erik headed toward the music, the beau ideal of amateur song, drifting silently across the snow-covered lawn, his breath an icy swirl of mist that trailed off into the night. He navigated effortlessly through the tombs and grave markers, and stopped abruptly, astonished. For there, on her knees at her father' s grave, his Christine sang her heart out to the stars, to her lost father, and pleaded to the mercy of the world to ease her pain. Erik knew he had to have her, and a vague plan began to form in his mind. He stepped behind a sculpted angel, and watched the girl as she finished her lament, her head bowed between her shoulders, shaking gently with silent tears.

"Young one, why do you weep?" he asked her, a voice in the shadows. She gasped, stood, and whirled around, searching for the source of the strange, familiar voice.

"Who's there?" she demanded through her tears.

"Do not fear me. I have watched you for a long time now. How strange that we should reunite here, exactly as it was ten years ago when we first met."

"Ten years? You've watched me for ten years? How have I never seen you then?" she challenged, wide-eyed with fear and curiosity.

"You never sought to know me," he responded, "but I am always there, surrounding you."

"Are... you my angel?" Seeing an opportunity, Erik grasped at it.

"Yes. Your..." He cast his thoughts about wildly, searching for anything that would bind her to him, "your father sent me to protect you, and to teach you to sing."

"My father? Did... did he really send you to me? Then you must be the Angel of Music!"

Erik was pleased at how well his plan was working. Under the guise of her guardian, he could be near her always and she would never know his true self.

"Return to the Opera House. Your instruction will begin tomorrow. Tell no one that I am training you. When the timing is right, you will show your talent, but not yet. Now, go."

She glanced around, searching for him, but did as he said. Satisfied, Erik watched her go, then turned and made his way back to his subterranean lair beneath the theater.