(slowly rises from behind a rock) No sharp objects flying around? (ducks for one nasty punjab lasso) That it? Ok, hello and welcome back then! Sorry, sorry, sorry for keeping you guys in the dark this long! The before mentioned hot weather had effectively scared off my muses and left me in a complete state of writer's block! You know, that ugly thing where you stare at your computer and all you seem to be writing looks like total (fill in dirty word of preference here)? Yeh. Been there. I think I'm crawling back out, I have about 4 more chapters to go before this story faces its end so bare with me!

With a big thanx to Beth and Ani for being my betas and creative advisors on these last steps, for those of you not reading "Rising from the Ashes" yet: Run you fools! It's finished and amazing, and I don't just say that cause I helped write it! ;) Enjoy! -x- Lotte.

She had not even finished dressing when she sensed him, the doorbell and her maid announcing his arrival only minutes later. His radiant, powerful presence seemed to crawl through the mansion and she actually felt herself nervous for seeing him again after so many years. After that fateful night in Paris now so long ago their old bond had lingered mainly through correspondence, some of their letters years apart. He was alive and well, he had a family and a flourishing career. He no longer feared the world, as it no longer seemed to fear him.

And now this. An evil man coming to take away what he deemed his own. If she had had the chance she would have warned Roger DuChamps of the dangers of such rash actions. No one counterset Erik, invaded his carefully constructed and tightly guarded world without suffering the consequences. She could only be thankful he seemed rational enough to actually form a plan of sorts first. Perhaps people really did grow wiser with age after all.

The sight of the pair of them was one for sore eyes. The impeccably dressed, respectfully aged older man, his posture still as strong and unabiding as always, now joined by his younger mirroring image. One look at the boy and she immediately understood Erik's continuous praise of his son, the boy was clearly raised to be all he had wished to have been at such an age.

"Luca, say hello to your grand-mère."

The boy needed little encouragement. With a cautious yet warm smile he approached her, taking her delicate hands in his own before gently kissing both her cheeks.

"It is good to finally meet you nonna…grand-mère. Father has told me many good things of you."

She smiled at him warmly, ignoring his obvious embarrassment at confusing his French and Italian. "And I about you my dear boy. Though I fear your dear father must have greatly exaggerated on my part."

She had by now reached the sofa and allowed Erik to courteously kiss her hand as he was used to doing, holding it slightly longer as if reacquainting himself with the sight and feel of her.

"It is good to see you again Marie. Time it seems, has been good to us both."

"If that includes time deciding I am no longer able to teach dance, I suppose I have been fortunate in other aspects yes…"

He offered her a sympathetic smile, immagining her frustration at her arthritis preventing her from moving as fluently as she used to.

"But I suppose petty conversation over one's health is not the reason you're here. Please, sit. Tell me of your plans as I ring for tea. You do still drink tea, do you not?"

Luca sat by amused as his father and adopted grandmother engaged in conversation. They shared a pleasant sharpness in their words which made their talk an interesting one to follow. The plan they were discussing had basically been his own, and he could not help but pride himself in it. The only detail neither could be certain of however, was the exact layout of the Opera House. It had been 25 years since his father had seen it last, and with all its reconstructions he might not be able to blend in as quietly as he once supposedly had. After tea was finished, Marie gently picked up a withered portfolio she had brought down from her chambers, and gently ran a hand along its leather binding.

"I suppose you recognise this?"

Erik could only nod, before handing the book to his son without opening it. Luca took it with great curiosity, and found upon opening it that it contained a collection of sketches, journals, detailed descriptions, all regarding the infamous Opera Populaire…and all in his father's strong and elegant handwriting. The script seemed that of a younger man, impatient, angry even. But it breathed his father's genius from every page. His grandmother gently pried a sketch from among the many, and he noticed it to be an overview drawing from the building as a whole.

"When the chandelier fell, and fire overtook the Populaire, these…and these…and these parts were basically destroyed completely. The glass was too fragile to withstand the heat of the flames, and on breaking only allowed in more oxygen. I need not tell you two of course, that warm air as well as fire will always seek higher ground, dry places. Your home, well I guess one could say it was far from high and dry correct?"

Erik took in a deep breath. The sudden realisation that his home, his artistic domain of so many years might still exist made him feel frightened and exited at the same time. Another piece of his legacy, his history would be revealed to a new generation.

"I cannot tell with certainty however how the cellars are connected to the upper grounds by now. Parts of them are undoubtedly used for storage again, but your passageways…after it was ascertained that the Opera Ghost was in truth a man and not a Phantom, people obviously felt less hesitant to explore the dark hallways and tunnels. Traps were removed, doors sealed shut, mirrors protected with cement layers…"

She noticed Erik wince and concluded the infamous mirror story must be a part of their story he had preferred not to acquaint his son with.

"I must be honest with you, without the proper knowledge of the new form of this building, you run a great risk of getting stuck in places you would not wish to be."

As she saw their faces drop however, she gave them a mischievous smile. "You are lucky then, I have the perfect guide to help you on your way." And with that she signaled to the maid coming in to clear the tea. "Susanne, will you please ask mademoiselle Thérèse to join us when she is finished with her practice?" The maid curtsied before quietly quitting the room. As both men looked at her curiously she continued. "I suppose Meg forgot to mention we have a new ballerina in our family?"

She had hardly finished her words when they heard the familiar tapping of pointe shoes down the hall and a frail blond girl came bouncing in. Both men blinked their eyes in surprise, Erik because of the spitting image the young ballerina held to her mother, and Luca because she was simply the most adorable girl he had ever seen. The girl had apparently only just finished her ballet training, for her blond curls stuck to her neckline and her cheeks were coloured a happy rose. She looked from one man to the other, suddenly feeling awkward for her unkept appearance and the shamelessly low-cut neckline of her snow white ballet costume.

"Grand-mère? Susanne said you wished to see me…I did not know you had company."

"It's quite alright my dear. The gentlemen are used to ballerinas about the house. Messieurs, may I introduce you to my dear granddaughter Thérèse Valmont? Tessa, les Messieurs Alighieri from Venice, Italy. Monsieur Erik is your aunt Christine's husband and Monsieur Luca is his oldest son. They need our help solving a little mystery around the Opera House."

Upon that Tessa nearly leapt forward, curtsying elegantly before looking from one to the other in excitement. "It is wonderful to meet you both at last! Maman reads me all your letters from Italy, it seems like such an enchanted place. And now you are here, and we have a mystery to solve?"

Marie gently tapped her granddaughter on the shoulder, motioning her to sit down.

"Oh yes my darling, quite the mystery. It involves the underground vaults you seem to know so well, and…countersetting a certain Monsieur DuChamps…"

Upon that the girl's eyes seemed to darken somewhat. "Well if it is Roger DuChamps you are here for, you need not explain any further. You will have my full assistance in hurting him in any way possible Messieurs. And I do love my underground hallways so well…"

Marie smiled at her while gently tucking a stubborn curl away behind her ear. "Well my dear, here is your chance to meet the man who created your hallways for you."

For a moment the girl looked stunned, until realisation dawned on her. She searched Luca's face shortly, yet found it unmoving and unaffected. Then she slowly turned to the older man sitting next to her grandmother.

"No…it is impossible I'm sure. For you to have created those halls and cellars…you would have to know…you would have to BE the Opera Ghost himself!"

An amused smile passed over Erik's lips, for once the memory of his former self did not hurt him as he thought it would.

"Enchanté, my little Giry…" And with that, a very important allegiance was formed.