Erik left his room to join the Ravenswoods for breakfast, though he dreaded it. He wasn't sure if Martha would try to speak with him about what he witnessed last night between Henry and Anna, but he knew she wasn't the type to openly confront Henry to shame him, especially in front of their daughter and the other servants. She was a classy lady like that, but still not the type to mess with regardless. However, on his way, he had to pass by Henry and Martha's bed chambers and could hear them arguing through the door. Erik knew he should have kept walking and ignored what was happening, but his bad habit of lurking and eavesdropping got the better of him. He slowly approached the door, making sure no footsteps were audible, and put his ear to it. This is what he heard:

"Didn't you just leave for Thunder Mesa a couple of months ago?" Martha's angry voice echoed.

"Yes, but there is always business that needs attending to. It would be a lot easier for me to live there, but every time I bring up the subject of relocating, you always refuse," Henry said in an equally frustrated tone.

"Because I do not want to subject our family to that environment. Not only is it unbearably hot and full of dangerous creatures, but that town is full of lawlessness and immorality. A family of nobles has no place in that god-forsaken town, especially our daughter."

"I agreed with you when she was young, but now she is a grown woman who is allowed to make her decisions. She should have a vote if she wants to move there."

"Did you forget that you were the one that placed the ban on her leaving the house? You were so obsessed with protecting your little girl that you hid her away in a supposedly perfect palace that she cannot escape from."

"And yet, she is still a happy girl, but that's what you've told me. Don't think that I haven't noticed the fake smiles she gives me when all I've done is be a loving father to her. I don't know what you tell her when I'm away, but I miss the little girl that would run into my arms to hug me when I came home."

"I haven't told her anything that would alter her view of you. If she feels animosity towards you, it's from her own opinion about you. I'm sure the fact that her love life is in shambles because of you is a leading reason for any hatred directed your way. You have a funny way of ruining love for others."

Although Erik couldn't see Henry, he somehow could sense him putting his face in his palm out of frustration. "Is that what this is about? I told you that I was feeling lethargic and got some rest before the night ended."

"And did you rest alone?" There was silence between them, but Martha continued, "At least have the decency to not sleep with another woman on your wedding anniversary."

"If it really bothered you this much, then you should have fired her."

"And risk losing both of the Jones siblings? They're working here while their father works for you, but if he returns to learn that we fired his children because of something you did to her daughter, you will make another enemy."

"Speaking of him, when was the last time you came to check on the well-being of the citizens?"

She grew silent, but after a moment, she said, "I never wanted to be the friendly face of your company. I simply wanted to make sure all the citizens of Thunder Mesa got everything they needed while also keeping them in contact with family at home. You made it into a job."

"I never forced that on you. I told you that it was going to be a double-edged sword: everyone relied on your generosity so much that they soon expected it of you. I knew it was overwhelming you to keep up with all these demands, especially when it came to family matters overseas, so I suggested that they ask their families to move there."

"I should have stopped you! To subject women and children to that place is a crime! And you act like that was altruism, but in reality, you wanted to replace your numbers when people died in those dangerous mines!"

"That's the risk they agreed to when they started working for me. I gave them all the necessary precautions and made sure to employ well-informed miners before recruiting inexperienced workers so that they could guide them. Ask any of them and they'll tell you that working with dynamite can be unpredictable."

"But so many are dying in the process. At this point, the graveyard has as many residents as the town. It's sad that you need to recruit more and more people to keep your labor stable and, in the process, you are dragging their families into it."

"I don't enslave them to keep working. They have a choice to leave and find work elsewhere in the country. That's another reason why the numbers are going down, but you neglect to see that."

"Because that's not much better. Didn't you tell me that you had an Indian problem since a bunch of families that planned to leave got killed?"

"We are working with law enforcement there to solve the issue. Whenever they try to negotiate with that tribe, they say that only a group of extremists caused those atrocities in hopes that people would 'leave the Thunderbird alone'," Henry said with a sarcastic chuckle. "These savages and their silly beliefs that a giant bird lives in that mountain. And what do they think they're trying to accomplish by killing the ones who are leaving? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

"You don't worry that one day, they'll attack the town itself?"

"No, I don't. According to their chief, they say that once the Thunderbird is angered enough, he will wreak havoc on the town, which will cause more destruction than that group of miscreants ever could."

"So, why don't you try to find a way to protect your citizens from them?"

"That's why I'm heading over there. I have to plead with those American officials to grant some kind of protection because every sheriff I appoint over there doesn't seem to live up to the task. You're welcome to join me and return to the duties you claim I forced you to take, but I'm sure the Jones would like to know how their father is doing."

At this point, Erik felt he had overheard too much and decided to slowly back away from the door. Like before, he made sure that the floor below him didn't creak and slowly headed toward the dining hall for breakfast. However, as he turned a corner, he was startled by someone leaning against the wall in anticipation of him, and not just anyone.

"It looks like you have a bad habit of poking your nose in places where it doesn't belong," Anna said with crossed arms. She wasn't her usual playful self; she looked threatening. She was one of the last people he wanted to bump into at a time like this. "You know, I had a strange feeling that someone was watching me last night. Henry might have been too drunk to notice, but I kept hearing doors open and close by our room and all of the sudden they stopped."

Erik gulped. It surprised him that anyone could frighten the former Opera Ghost. "M-Madame Ravenswood asked me—,"

"You know fully well that her name is Martha. She gives you extra special attention," she said as stepped closer to him, forcing him to walk away from her. "Is this how she plans on getting back at us? She hires a man close to Henry's age and tries to seduce him to make Henry jealous? Can't say I blame her, but how desperate does she have to be to go after a man like you?"

"Anna!" Jasper's voice interrupted. Erik was thankful for his presence, but wasn't sure how long that relief would last. "What do you think you're doing harassing Erik?"

"He knows," she said simply, making Jasper's eyes widen.

"What exactly does he know?"

"Tell him, Erik. I noticed you avoiding me, Henry, and Martha last night after the gift

announcement. Why is that?" While Anna had an evil smirk of a villain extracting a confession out of a weak hero, Jasper had a worried expression, as if hoping she was wrong.

"I was trying to explain to Anna that I was ordered by Madame Ravenswood to look for her. I looked all over and couldn't find her."

"But then you stopped searching to go back to the masquerade. Why?" Anna said with intimidation in her voice.

"I-I-I–," Erik stammered. He may be a master of deception, but he was never the greatest liar.

"He saw me with Henry," Anna said. Jasper looked at Erik to see if he would defy her claim, but he only hung his head in worry.

Jasper sighed. "Perhaps we shouldn't talk about this close to their chambers. Let's head to the kitchen. We need to prepare for breakfast anyway."

The three of them walked to the kitchen, with Anna lagging behind so Erik could not escape. He thought he was certain that they would not try to harm him for knowing the secret, but Erik was surprised that Jasper knew as well. Sure, siblings tell each other secrets, but this was more than a secret. If anyone else were to find out, it would be quite the scandal. Do they, perhaps, both possess a dark side that they do not want others to find out about? If other servants were scared of them, it might be possible, but they are actually well-respected (or rather, Jasper is) by both the servants and the Ravenswoods. Are they going to threaten him to stay quiet? They don't really have much power to really threaten him if they tried to silence him.

When they arrived at the kitchen, they guided him to the walk-in pantry and closed the door. "Now, tell me: what did you see last night?" Anna asked.

Erik sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. "While I was looking for you, I peeked through the keyhole and saw you and Henry conversing about the broach he gave you. Then you two embraced and I left immediately."

Jasper took a deep breath as he looked disappointedly at his sister, "Really? On their anniversary?"

"I didn't plan it! Henry told me to visit him in a guest bedroom for a surprise."

"You should have known what that 'surprise' was by now."

"Relax, Jasper! You know why I'm doing this. I wish you'd be more supportive of me." "Why would I be supportive of you having an affair with Monsieur Ravenswood?" "Because maybe he would give us enough money to get father out of Thunder Mesa or maybe we could move there!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down, Anna. You don't want anyone to hear."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who else knows about this . . . situation?" Erik asked. "Too many, if you ask me. A lot of servants speculate it, but the only ones who know for certain are us, Monsieur and Madame Ravenswood, and now you," Jasper answered.

"As much as Martha rightfully disapproves of it, we all agreed to let this continue as long as Mélanie doesn't find out. It would break her pure little heart if she learned the truth. She can already tell that the love between her parents is fading, but she hopes that it will ignite once again."

"Why would Martha ever agree to that?" Erik asked.

Anna laughed. "While Jasper keeps the master happy, I make him happier and she knows it. You must understand that a noble household values one thing above anything else and that's their reputation. If a couple were to divorce, each of them would have a stain in their reputation, whether it was deserving or not. A woman could be abused by her husband, but if they were to get divorced, people would speculate that there was a justified reason why he kept hitting her. A man could be cheated on by his wife, but then people would speculate that the man wasn't able to please his wife and that's why she sought someone else. Each party has something to lose if they split, so they are forced to make immoral compromises just to keep face and live as if they were the perfect couple."

"And yet you're fine with being part of a scandal that could ruin your reputation as well, not just theirs?"

"I've been asking her that for about a year now," Jasper said with equal frustration.

"I didn't initiate this. At one of the balls, he confided with me how he wished he married a woman who was more supportive of his business ventures. All I did was show interest, mostly to get an idea of what father was doing in Thunder Mesa, and the next thing I knew, he kissed me. No girl intends to be a mistress, but I couldn't let an opportunity like that go to waste."

"Opportunity?! Do you hear yourself? You sound like you wanted something like this to happen," Jasper said in a loud voice that Anna had to shush. Erik had a feeling that the two maybe had never talked about this, or if they did, they kept their conversations short to avoid emotional escalation like this.

"No, but it's still beneficial for the both of us. He's giving me a lot of expensive gifts that I could sell. With that money, we could afford to get our father out of America and live as a family again."

"But he'll need a job and you know how difficult it is for an ex-convict to find work."

"He won't have to worry about that anymore. We're old enough to find work without having to rely on him," Anna said with her emotions showing in her voice. "We haven't heard from him in two years. I'm starting to wonder if he's doing all right over there, but I'll never get answers if Martha doesn't go there and talk to him for us." They could see her clenching her fists in anger, even if she was trying to hide that rage in her facial expression.

"Anna, be honest with me: have you been using this affair as payback for her not returning to Thunder Mesa?" Jasper asked in a calm voice, but he too was suppressing anger that he wished he could release.

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "Like I said, I never initiated it, but some sick part of me must have wanted to watch her suffer like I have."

Jasper sighed in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He then looked at Erik and said, "I'm sorry that we dragged you into this, but you understand that this must be kept quiet."

"Of course—," Erik started to say, but was cut off by Anna.

"You don't get off that easily!" she yelled as she got in his face. "I need some assurance that you won't tell anyone about what you know. Quid pro quo: tell me something about yourself that you don't want anyone else to know."

"Anna, please! That's not necessary," Jasper tried to defend.

"He's too close to Mélanie. He sees her everyday for their music lesson. I don't want anything to ruin her impression of us," she said with genuine regret in her eyes, which surprised Erik. "Tell us a secret. It's only fair."

He looked at Jasper, hoping he could free him from his sister's demand, but even he was helpless. Maybe he partly agreed with her reasoning or maybe he knew that even if he intervened, she would force a secret out of him another time when Jasper wasn't around. Erik knew there was no way of escaping this; he knew he had to admit something just as serious to them or else she wouldn't accept it. "I guess I have no choice," he said with a sigh. "Do you remember the day I came in and the story I told?"

"Story?" Anna said with some suspicion in her tone. "Are you saying you lied to us?"

"Partly. Yes, I did escape the Opera Populaire fire, but . . . I was also the one who started it."

Their eyes widened. "Wait, that would mean that you're . . . ,"

"Yes, I was the madman who brought down the chandelier and kidnapped the star," he admitted. The siblings were too shocked to speak. "And this deformity," he said as he put a hand to his mask. "It wasn't a result of being too close to the flames. I was actually born with it."

"W-Why . . . Why come here then?" Jasper struggled to say. "You're a wanted man. It must have been a huge risk to stay here."

"I agree, but the Ravenswoods have been so generous to me that I believed this could be a fresh start and make amends for all the wrongs I have done in my life."

"Like murder?" Anna said with fear in her voice. Now it was her turn to be scared of him. "I read in the papers that the madman killed three people: a stagehand, the male star Ubaldo Piangi, and Count Philippe de Chagny. Did you . . . ?"

"I can try to explain my reasoning, but no matter what I say, it'll never justify taking a life. I have many regrets in life and those three lives are included."

After a moment of unnerving silence, Jasper looked at Anna, who still had a fearful expression on her face. "Are you satisfied with that?" he asked her.

"Y-Yes, it's far more than enough," she said regrettably. "If I get any indication that you told Mélanie our secret, I won't hesitate telling yours. A secret as dark as yours could result in them kicking you out of here or reporting you to the authorities."

"And I will accept any consequence that comes my way," Erik said truthfully. Sure, he never wanted to be found by those who wanted to end his life, but if his miserable life ended in a tragic way, then so be it.

"We should get back to work. The Ravenswood will be expecting you for breakfast," Jasper said as the three left the pantry without another word said.


To Erik's surprise, breakfast wasn't nearly as awkward as he planned it to be. Martha did not bring up the forbidden topic, even if her eyes suggested she wanted to. Henry seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, like normal, and Melanie, who usually faked her happiness, actually seemed genuinely happy despite her father's presence. Erik felt something was up, but could not figure out what it could be. Jasper and Anna worked like normal; strike that, Anna worked like she should be, possibly to look good in Martha's eyes after getting caught. After breakfast was done, Erik wanted to leave immediately, planning on using the excuse to prepare for Mélanie's lesson, but Henry stopped him.

"Oh, Erik, I wanted to ask you some questions about Thunder Mesa. Do you mind accompanying me to my study?"

Out of all days to ask. "S-Sure," he said feebly.

"One day, you'll drop that shyness," Henry said with a hearty laugh as he approached him. "We are friends, are we not? Aren't even the shyest of introverts more comfortable when they are around their friends?"

"I guess I have a longer comfort period to overcome," he lied. In all honesty, he probably would never feel comfortable around anyone in this household except for Mélanie.

"Then we should fix that," Henry said as he guided Erik to the study. Erik knew he had to act more approachable, especially if he wanted to investigate his unshakable bad feeling that he had about Henry, but his nerves got the better of him most times. He was glad that he gained his trust so easily, but he always wondered why. Henry said it was loneliness that drove him to pursue a friendship with Erik, but he always sensed a darker intent.

They finally arrived at the study and Henry immediately went to the liquor cabinet. "I know one way of making a man comfortable," he said as he pulled out the brandy and poured it into two glasses. "Here."

He gave one of those glasses to Erik, who felt even more uncomfortable. Why is alcohol usually the solution for calming nerves? He would never understand. "Thank you, but I don't like to drink before teaching."

"Oh, come now, dear friend! It's just one drink! It won't impair you," he said with a closed-eyed grin.

"Still, I'd rather—,"

"Drink," Henry said demandingly as he lost his smile. It startled Erik a bit to see such a shift in demeanor with no warning. With reluctance, he decided to take a gulp of the burning liquid. Although it wasn't his first time drinking, he usually preferred wines and other drinks that had a lower alcohol rate to stay sharp. Pleased, Henry returned his smile and said, "Anyway, about Thunder Mesa, I was wondering if you were willing to look at some building designs. I received news that a building collapsed and needs to be rebuilt immediately along with repairs from surrounding buildings."

"Oh my goodness, did anyone get hurt?" Erik asked out of worry.

"Luckily, no one was injured, but the townspeople are concerned about the safety of their town, so I have to return to Thunder Mesa to reassure the people. People are more responsive to a leader who is working at the site than away from it."

"Understandable," Erik said as he had observed Henry eyeing his glass, most likely noting that he wasn't drinking as fast as he wanted. Why was he so insistent on Erik drinking? He took another sip out of fear, hoping that working on the blueprints could excuse him from drinking any further. He got up to look at the blueprints, making sure to keep the glass in his hand. Both men looked at the pieces of paper, but Erik quickly picked up a pencil and started to make some corrections.

Henry seemed impressed. "I never asked how you learned such an amazing skill if you were a musician."

"I was taken in by a man named Giovanni. He was a master architect and taught me as much as he could," Erik said shortly. Giovanni, one of the few people in his past that he could trust. There was no lie; Giovanni really did take him in as an apprentice after he found a starving, homeless, thirteen-year-old Erik in one of his construction sites. Despite initial quarrels, he soon grew to see the older man as a father figure that he never had. He even called Erik the son he wished he had. However, that all changed when his daughter returned from boarding school. Another painful memory he wished he could forget.

"Well, that man must be a genius if he taught you all this," Henry continued, helping Erik escape his thoughts. "Is he still working in the field?"

"I doubt it. I believe he retired after his daughter died," Erik said matter-of-factly. Luciana, what a spoiled brat she was. She demanded her father's attention when she returned, but when she learned she would have to share it with Erik, she teased him constantly. She berated him with demands to see underneath his mask and each time, he denied her. Though, being the young and hormonal boy he was, he found her both annoying and attractive, something he never admitted to anyone. One day, he had enough of her and, to both shut her up and please her, he finally showed his deformity to her. Expectedly, she was terrified and backed away from him, but unexpectedly, she backed up too far and went over the railing of the balcony, causing her to fall to the stone below.

"Um, I'm not sure I can build something like that," Henry said with a confused expression. Out of his thoughts, Erik noticed that he drew a line below the house design, almost off the paper entirely.

He hurriedly erased it and said, "My apologies. I sometimes get into a trance with creative works."

"Well, if you came to Thunder Mesa, I could hire you to be our chief architect," Henry said as he finished his glass and poured himself another glass. He even refilled Erik's half-full glass without asking. With an uncomfortable smile, Erik drank from the glass, hoping it would appease the demanding patriarch.

"I'm flattered by the thought, but it has been years since I designed any building. Besides, I'm happy working as a music teacher. I believe that to be my true calling in life."

"But you get paid more as an architect," Henry said as he pointed at Erik with his glass, spilling a little of the brandy onto the floor.

"That is true, but I'm much happier behind a piano than overseeing a massive project that could be dangerous if I'm careless."

"You really are a strange man. Most men are always finding new opportunities to make as much money as they can so they can save up for their future and their family's as well."

"Well, I'm not like most men. I don't have a family to call my own and it's hard for me to plan for the future when life is unpredictable. Even working as an architect does not negate that fact of life."

"No, I suppose not, but if I were you, I'd go to Thunder Mesa to live my dream life. Imagine being a well-renowned architect during the day and an immensely talented musician at night. You would be the talk of the town."

"I'd rather be out of the spotlight," Erik said before pointing at his mask. "Not a lot of people trust masked men, regardless if they are French or American."

"I'm sure you can work something out," Henry said with a grin, as if Erik did agree to go. Erik only rolled his eyes as he continued to work, taking a small sip of his drink once in a while, but never finishing his glass.

After a while, he managed to finish editing the set of blueprints and went over his ideas with Henry, who listened intently despite not fully grasping everything he was told. Luckily, he did not ask for him to stay and dismissed him once the explanation was over, which relieved Erik. He quickly left the room under the impression that he was late in preparing for Mélanie's music lesson. Though, that lesson was strange since she was very distracted, as if her mind was elsewhere. Normally, he would reprimand her behavior, but he felt so uncomfortable with his encounter earlier that he just wanted the day to end. Though, he did tell her if she acted like this during their next lesson, there would be consequences, which she apologetically understood.


Despite Erik desperately wanting to, he could never really fall asleep easily. That was usually the reason why he would stay up so long working on his musical masterpieces; he wanted to exhaust himself before going to bed, only to be awakened by the occasional nightmares. Plus, never knowing the time due to a lack of sunlight in a sewer may have contributed to his poor sleeping habits. His only hint on time was the music of the orchestra when they rehearsed. Now, he had to be aware of time since the Ravenswoods had a schedule he had to follow. The first couple of nights were rough to adjust, and to be honest, he still hasn't gotten used to it, but it is at least manageable.

When his insomnia did act up, he figured he had to distract his mind for a bit. He noticed in Henry's massive library in his study that he had many books that he heard much buzz about, but never got around to reading. He asked Henry to lend him a book early in his stay and he would get through a book within a week (maybe a couple of days if his insomnia was severe). If he couldn't write music, then he might as well read stories that would inspire themes for future works. This week's book was actually a suggestion from Henry: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

Erik didn't know what to feel about the story at first, especially when Henry made a joke that he may relate to the monster, but after reading through half of it, he might have understood the dark joke a bit more. The monster, just like his creator, was intelligent and resilient to any physical harm that Frankenstein threw at him. He even wanted companionship, only to be heartbroken when the bride he forced Frankenstein to build was revolted by his appearance. Constantly, he questioned his creator's purpose for creating him if he would only regret the decision and how cruel of it was for the human to shun him when he needed his support the most. How different would have their fates been if Frankenstein had been kind to his creation? How many lives would have been saved if he never turned him away? Erik felt a kinship with this monster, as Henry had unfortunately predicted, since there was a time that Erik blamed a superior being for creating him in such a way, only to make him go through suffering after suffering. Were they punishing him for existing? But why create something they resented so much? This thought led him to believe that there was no higher being in Heaven or Hell that created him; a genetic mutation had led to a life of misery and nothing else. Sometimes he wished he could believe in a higher power to pray to and alleviate his depression, but he knew that only the air would hear his words.

After some time, he heard the sound of something small and narrow tapping on glass and looked for the source since it wasn't going away if he ignored it. He looked at the window and saw that a raven was continuously tapping at it with its beak. He put a bookmark in his book and placed it on the nightstand before getting up to approach the window. Despite him getting closer, the bird never backed away and had no fear in its body language. He then opened the window, hoping it would fly away, but all it did was back away enough from the edge to not get hit. He remembered the raven that Mélanie called Morella from the other day and wondered if it was the same one. Judging by how natural it acted near a human, he assumed it was. "Good evening, Morella," he said, surprised at himself for entertaining Mélanie's fantasy without her around. "Is there a reason why you're tapping on my window so intently?"

"Caw!" the bird said as it opened its wings, as if trying to communicate through them.

"I must be tired. I'm actually talking to a bird," he said as he tried to close the window, but it swooped in and flew onto a pillar of Erik's bed, away from his reach. "Wait, no, get down this instant! You can't just fly in here."

"Caw!" The raven said before lifting its twiggy feet multiple times before perching itself onto the pillar to rest. Erik looked around for an object he could use to poke the bird, but nothing was particularly tall or easy to handle. He thought about throwing something at it, but other than pillows and clothes, all the other objects were heavy and would make a loud noise upon impact. The last thing he wanted was someone to walk in and ask what was happening. With no other options available, he decided to forfeit and just let the bird stay perched above him. He made sure to keep the window slightly open so that when the bird eventually left, it would be able to do so freely, even if he had to suffer the chilly autumn air for it. He got into bed, making sure to lay on the opposite side of the pillar, and wrap himself in his warm blanket before trying to fall asleep. He just hoped that the bird would not dare make a mess while he slept.


Erik slowly opened his eyes, noticing that more moonlight had entered his room than earlier that night. He could have sworn that it would be a moonless sky tonight, but the bright light suggested that the moon was full. He slowly got up and tried to stretch his arms, but noticed that he hit the ceiling with his hand. He was confused and soon noticed that he wasn't in his bed, but rather was in, what appeared to be, a glass box that was in motion. Once in a while, he would hit his head on the ceiling, but it wasn't enough to cause a concussion or any other serious head injury. He looked outside and noticed he was on a road in the countryside, unsure of how he got in this predicament. He crawled to the front of the box in hopes of finding a driver, but his vision was blocked by a wooden panel. Erik tried calling for help, but it did not seem to do anything. If anything, he swore he heard a soft neigh from the front. Was he in a carriage? No, he would have been a seat with a door to escape. Was he . . . was he in a hearse? But why would he, a person who is clearly alive, be in a vehicle reserved for transporting the dead?

He didn't know how, but he knew he had to get out of this place. He tried to kick the glass, but it was too thick, as if they didn't want whatever was inside to ever fall out during transport. He was starting to panic and tried kicking whatever he could in hopes of an escape. Nothing seemed to be working, but at a moment of utter desperation, he kicked the back of the hearse with all his strength and noticed the door loosening. With a relieved smile, he kept kicking it until it eventually came loose. It swung open, but he was surprised to see that the outside wasn't moving at all. In fact, the hearse seemed to have stopped while he was distracted. He didn't have much time to question it as he hurriedly climbed out of the hearse. He walked to the driver seat to see who had kidnapped him, but to his surprise, there was no one there and there was no horse to bring him here.

Erik scratched his head in confusion as he looked around to see where he was. All the plants surrounding him were dead, withered, and/or overgrown in what used to be a lush garden. Actually, this garden was familiar to him; it was the Ravenwood's. Even in the pale moonlight, he could see that the white stones that stood out amongst the lush were caked with dirt and moss from neglect. The path along the garden was covered in leaves and dirt and it barely stood out from the rest of the ground. He looked up the path and found the Ravenswood manor, but it was decrepit, as if no one had lived there for years. The white paint had browned, revealing the rotten wood that built the manor. All the vibrant colors had muted due to sun and weather exposure with no aftercare to prevent this ugly hue. Some of the railing of the porch looked like it was starting to sag, as if the very foundation it stood on was about to collapse. "What happened to this place?" he said to himself rhetorically, but to his surprise, he received an answer.

"It is fate," a whispery voice said. He looked around in fear, not knowing where the voice came from or who it belonged to. All he knew was that it sounded like it was close to him. He tried running toward the manor, but he noticed a strange phenomenon: his shadow did not move with him. In fact, the shadow did not mimic his body posture like it should. Soon, his shadow started to materialize from the ground to become a three-dimensional being. He fell on his rear and started to scurry behind him as he watched the shadow fully form, but it did not copy shape; it morphed into a more feminine shape with a long dress, thick and curly hair, and an hourglass shape. Though, she was only a silhouette, so he could not distinguish any other feature of the shadow woman.

"Wh-What are you?!" he said as he reached the stone steps that led to the manor.

"Choose life and hopefully you'll never need to know," she said in the same whispery voice. She started to approach him, but despite her silhouette showing her walking like normal, her feet never made a sound. "Do you recognize this place, Erik?"

"I-It's the Ravenswood Manor, b-but different," he said with a shaky voice.

She nodded as she extended her hand to help him up. "This is its fate: a place of death with only happy haunts to fill its rooms."

"Wh-What do you mean by that?" he said as he took her hand. Surprisingly, he was able to grab onto something, but the feeling was off, as if his hand had pins and needles.

"I warn you, Erik, if you stay here, you will find out," she said as she walked past him toward the entrance of the manor. "Do you wish to continue?"

"D-Do I have a choice?" he said as he followed her.

"Of course you do. I actually prefer you to leave this place," she whispered as she gestured her hand toward the door, which creakily opened on its own. "But if you're curious, you may enter." Erik was unsure of entering such a decrepit home, especially when she warned him not to enter, but curiosity overcame him and he followed her lead. Once he entered the building, the doors behind him slammed loudly, causing him to jump and the room to be enveloped in darkness. "Don't be alarmed. They might sense your presence and torment you," she said.

"They?" he asked, but she did not answer. Instead, a flash of lightning lit the room and the sound of pouring rain and thunder could be heard.

"Let's keep going," she whispered as she walked further in the foyer. As the occasional lightning filled the room, he could see just how filthy the residence actually was; every piece of furniture, whether broken or not, was covered in dust and cobwebs and the once vibrant wallpaper dulled and started to peel. The shadow woman walked to a candelabrum that was standing on top of a rotting table, but as she held her hand out, he noticed that she did not try to touch it. Instead, she reached out to its shadow and grabbed it, but to his surprise, the actual candelabrum started to float on its own. After a moment, it even lit without any need for matches. "Follow me," she said as she led the way with the candelabrum following near her.

They walked the familiar halls of the manor, but as lightning flashed, he noticed that the paintings on the walls seemed to change. At first, he thought he was just imagining it, but when he stopped to observe one portrait of a young woman, probably an ancestor of the Ravenwoods, he noticed that, after a flash of lightning, the woman turned into a Gorgon-like creature, with hissing snakes for hair, a stone-cold glare, and an open mouth that bore fangs. Every portrait he passed by had this same phenomenon: a normal image turning into a scarier one. He had to wonder if every image was going to do this and went in front of the shadow woman to search for Henry's portrait that he saw when he first entered. Maybe it would show him why he had such a sinking feeling about the man. "Wait!" she yelled quietly, but her soft voice was drowned out by his curiosity.

Surprisingly, despite the unusual state, the layout of the manor was the same and he knew he was in the right direction, but as he kept passing by the many doors, he kept hearing what sounded like growls and scratching noises on the other side of them. His heart raced when he first heard it and it got worse as the noises got louder and louder. Some doors even sounded like someone was on the other side, begging to be let out, and the doorknobs were trying to turn, but were not able to unlock. "You shouldn't rush into other people's secrets," the shadow woman said as she got close to him.

"What secrets?" Erik asked, desperately trying to find some sense in this insanity.

"Every home has its secrets that want to be released, but they are held back by those who don't want their secrets known to others. They will keep them locked away, but not all secrets can be kept hidden for long," she said as she walked up to a door and opened it. Although the room was pitch black inside, he could tell she entered since the candelabrum entered the room alongside her. He wanted to find the painting, but was scared that if he didn't follow her, something bad could happen to him. With a deep breath, he walked in the room.

Although darkness was his home, he still did not want to be in a room he was unfamiliar with, especially under these unusual circumstances. Though, the room suddenly started to lighten as candles lit on their own, though despite the new light, the room was still pretty dim. The room was fairly small, so despite the dim candlelight, it was able to light the entire room enough to see the walls. He tried to find the shadow woman, but she seemed to disappear and not even her candelabrum was present. Four pairs of candles showcased four portraits that Erik had never seen before. With a closer look, he could see that each of them had a couple painted from the waist up, but the woman in each was the same. It was Mélanie, with a smile that seemed to be hiding pain. Each man was different and varying in age and dress, each blissfully smiling as if nothing was wrong. After some pondering, Erik concluded that these were Mélanie's past suitors that Martha had mentioned to him several days ago.

However, her image disappeared from all the portraits and the remaining image seemed to stretch. Erik rubbed his eyes, thinking it was a trick, but when he looked back at them, they had stretched even more. He wasn't sure if the room itself was stretching or if it was his imagination. As more time passed, he could finally see the hidden images, which were more disturbing than he initially thought. One man was standing on top of boxes of TNT, only to be revealed that he was on top of a lit barrel of gunpowder, waiting to explode. Another was sitting what at first appeared to be a wooden log that would soon reveal the menacing circular saw blade that was heading toward him. Another was a man on a rowboat, but it was heading down a waterfall. The final man was sitting on a branch of a tree, only to reveal a bear at the base of the tree.

Once the paintings finally stopped stretching, he could see that in each one, there appeared to be a figure in the background: a skeletal man, or at least in head, that wore a dark purple velvet suit accompanied by a similar style cape held by a silver chain with mini skull latches. He wore a black top hat with a purple ribbon around the base of the hat and wore a purple matching bow tie. Despite having a skeletal face, Erik could see the sinister expression on his face as he marveled in the gruesome deaths of these men, who still had the oblivious smiles on their faces.

Erik had enough of the disturbing imagery and tried to find his way back to the door, but he couldn't find it, as if it never existed in the first place. He put his hands all over the walls, hoping to find some form of a door to get him out, but nothing was working. Suddenly, with a flash of lightning, the room became pitch black as the candles blew out. Never in his life had he been scared of a dark room, but tonight would prove different as he erratically started to bang on the walls in hopes of an escape. "Let me out!" he begged no one in particular, but all he kept hearing was the sound of thunder getting louder and louder and lightning flashing in the room despite there being no windows in sight. It was enough for him to sink into the corner of the room to cower, covering both his eyes and ears as he wished it all to go away.

After a while in his torment, the candlelight returned to the room and the thundering ceased. He opened his eyes and noticed that the paintings had returned to their original form minus Mélanie. Much to his relief, a door had opened on the other side of the room and he could see the shadow woman on the other side with the floating candelabrum nearby. "Ah, there you are," she whispered.

"There you–What are you talking about?! You led me in here," he said in an angry voice as he got up from the ground and approached her. He tried to grab onto her shoulders, but that same feeling of pins and needles returned to his hands.

"You could have left at any time."

"What do you mean? There was no door in this room! Not even a window to climb out of!"

"This door has been here the whole time," she whispered as she pointed at the door. "Did you not see it?"

"I-I guess not," he said in defeat. There wasn't any point of arguing that now. Nothing was making sense and more importantly, he just wanted to leave this room as quickly as possible. Without saying another word, he walked past her and waited for her to lead the way. Although it has been proven that she is not the most reliable guide, he still felt the need to let her lead the way through this place in fear of another terrifying encounter. He didn't even want to find Henry's portrait at this point; he just wanted this tour to end. She did say he could leave any time, but he didn't know where to go if he did try to leave.

The hallway the shadow woman led him down seemed relatively normal compared to the beginning of the tour. The doors no longer made any noises and there weren't any paintings to change forms when lightning struck. In fact, the storm seemed to be dying down a little with no thunder and lightning heard or seen since he was trapped in that room. The two eventually arrived at the banquet hall, which looked just as abandoned as the rest of the manor with the chandelier shattered on the ground, a sight that was unfortunately familiar to him. The shadow woman walked to the organ that was on the other side of the room, which he did not recognize. When the Ravenswood had a party, they would hire a live band, obviously none carrying such a heavy instrument as the organ. Once she approached it, she set the candelabrum, or really its shadow, onto the organ before taking a seat. With little hesitation, she played a loud chord that made Erik's heart race, but almost like magic, the chandelier seemed to be repairing itself, as if time was rewinding. Soon, the chandelier began to rise toward the ceiling, coating the room in a warm light as it went further up. Erik stared at this amazing feat, admiring the music that had accompanied such a miracle, but as he looked back to the organ, he couldn't believe his eyes.

The room seemed to have been cleaned up with no cobwebs or dust in sight. Furniture was returned to its pristine state and there was even fresh food and drink on the tables. Even stranger was that the room had filled with people who seemed to be having a swinging wake. A group of women dressed in gypsy clothing were dancing in one corner of the room while many people of Persian descent were watching them perform. He was surprised to see this kind of crowd in France. Though, something seemed oddly familiar about this group of strangers. The last time he had seen these dancers wearing these types of clothes was when he was enslaved into the circus at a young age. In fact, they wore the exact same clothing as they did and a few even looked eerily similar to the women he remembered. Though, some had aged significantly, whether into their middle ages or elderly years yet wearing the same type of clothes as the younger dancers. With a closer look at the audience, he started to recognize some of the faces and it chilled him to the bone. He had met each and every one of them and he regretted it ever since. He had killed each of them for the "entertainment" of the Shah when he was in Persia. Although none of them seemed to notice him, he felt the strong urge to run away from the room, but as he tried to find the nearest exit, someone bumped into him, knocking him to the ground.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" a drunken man's voice yelled. Shaken by the experience, all Erik could see was the man's dirty boots, but he felt a panic rush over him as he recognized those damned boots. As a child, the image of those boots was synonymous with physical abuse, either by hand or by whip. Erik was scared to look up, but he did and his eyes widened by whose eyes he was staring at. "Say, you look kinda familiar," he said with slurred words. Erik never remembered a time this man was sober, but feared he might have been more violent if he was. His skin was tanned from working under the sun, but he was clearly a different nationality than the rest of the people in this room. His eyes were pools of black while his black hair was balding, straggly, and unkept. His body was tall with a large belly from drinking so much. "Oh, that's right! You're the boy who killed me!"

Erik didn't know what to say; never in his wildest dreams did he think he would ever confront his first murder victim. Well, is victim the right word? In Erik's heart, he knew he deserved his fate after treating him like an animal for three years. "I-I-I," he stammered, but no words were coming out.

"Save your breath. I should want to kill ya for what you did, but . . . I don't," the man said, almost as if he sobered up a bit. Erik was stunned by his words. Did he hear that correctly? "I know it's not much in comparison to what you've been through, but you may have done me a kindness by axing me off. Every day since I joined that damn troop, I dreaded waking up to another day of monotonous suffering. Do you think I wanted to work in that joke of a circus? Most days, we starved since we couldn't get enough people to pay for our show. Half the time, we had to eat our wild animals just to survive. Most of the time, we had to deal with either police forcing us out of our venues or bigots trying to drive us out, thinking our gypsy dancers were stealing their wallets while they watched the show. Now, I can't say that wasn't true, but we were all desperate to find money wherever we could. The ringleader should have been handling these issues, but instead, he would send me to beat up whoever dared to challenge us. I was so angry at our failure and booze seemed to be the only way to ease the pain. Then you came around, trying to steal the little food we had and I found a new opportunity,"

"Bold of you to equate abusing a helpless child as an 'opportunity'," Erik said as he finally got up, noticing he was now taller than the man by only a few centimeters.

"You would have done the same if you were desperate. And you proved to be quite the moneymaker. I valued you as a prize attraction, but those damn gypsies believed you were a curse that should have been ridden off. They always got on my nerves and when I got really angry, I would take it out on you. Of course, they didn't care since they thought I was appeasing their wishes little by little by causing you pain. I'm sure that they tried to trick me into drinking more, thinking if I was drunk enough, I might lose control and accidentally kill you."

"And do you expect me to forgive you for that?" Erik asked with anger in his voice, though he tried to act calm enough to have a civilized conversation..

"No, I don't, but I just wanted you to know a little bit about the man you killed. I don't care if you feel any guilt for taking my life, but clearly, I was a mere stepping stone for your murderous career."

"A career I am not proud of," he admitted.

The man sighed. "I've had a lot of time to think back on my actions and although I cannot change the past, I do want to say that I am sorry for how I treated you. Do what you want with that." At those words, the man left his side to join a group of men, all drinking to their heart's content, but he also left Erik with his overwhelming emotions. The man he hated for decades actually apologized to him for the abuse he put him under? It seemed impossible, but he just witnessed it. He couldn't bring himself to forgive the man, but knowing he was sorry did seem to alleviate some of that hate.

Suddenly, he felt something small bump into his leg and looked down. It was a young Persian boy that couldn't be any older than six years old. He had jet black hair like his father's and his eyes were a honey color. Erik never murdered children duirng his time in Persia; he could never bring himself to do something so heinous. However, to be completely honest, he did have to kill one child, but it was a mercy killing. As he got a closer look at the boy, he felt his heart sink. "Uncle Erik," the boy said in his native language. Those two words were enough to fill Erik's eyes with tears. The only boy's life he had to cut short was Nadir's son, who was dying of an incurable disease. "Up!"

"Reza," Erik said as he picked up the boy and held on to him tightly. "I'm so sorry. We wanted you to live out your life, but fate was unkind to you. I didn't want to do it, but we had no choice"

"He understands," a woman's voice said. He looked in her direction and saw a Persian woman who wore nobility clothing. Her son was almost a spitting image of her, especially in her eyes. The only difference was the length of hair, which flowed to her waist. Although he never met this woman, he had seen her in paintings that Nadir kept in his quarters; paintings of his beloved family when it was once happy and whole. "Rookheeya?"

"Hello Erik," she said with a warm smile as she took the boy from his arms. "It's nice to finally meet the man who helped keep my husband sane through trifling times."

"H-He helped me on a much greater scale. I can never repay him back for what he did to get me away from Persia. I owe him my life."

"As does he. If it weren't for you, he would have never had the courage to leave that cursed palace and start a new life where he could choose his destiny. It's all thanks to you."

"You know, he had never remarried since your death. He loved you so much that he practically vowed to never love anyone as he did you."

She sighed. "As flattering as that is, I do hope that one day, he can move on and find a partner that will remind him to live in the present. Did you know that he is actually looking for you?"

Erik shook his head. "I lost contact with him ever since I left."

"Although not entirely the reason, he has used you as one of the excuses to start his spice merchandising business and if he doesn't find you, he will find someone like you to attach to. He has always been drawn to broken spirits."

"Mama, watch the dancers," Reza said as he tugged at his mother's shirt.

"All right, all right, we will," she said as she placed a kiss on her son's head. She looked at Erik and only said, "Thank you for being part of his life."

"You're welcome," he said as she walked past him to watch the girls with the rest of the audience. Erik couldn't help, but smile at the encounter. She was as warm and kind-hearted as Nadir had said and he deeply missed seeing the boy's innocent smile. It left him with such a happy feeling, but it seemed it would not last.

"Erik?" a young feminie voice said from behind him. Erik was getting tired of surprises, but he turned around, unsure who it could be and how to feel about them. It was yet another figure of his past and the unsure feeling intensified. "Look at you, all grown up. Too bad I didn't get to do the same." Luciana said with some bitterness in her voice. She hadn't aged one bit since he last saw her when she was thirteen and frankly, her attitude did not diminish with time. She was still the beautiful girl with long brown hair and green eyes; traits that her father usually bragged about whenever she was brought up in conversation. "It's unfair! How come I'm here when all I wanted was to see your face!"

"Y-You fell off the balcony. I tried to catch you, but I wasn't fast enough."

"No, you weren't and now I have to suffer the consequences of your actions," she said as she stomped her foot.

"Do you honestly think I don't feel any guilt for what happened to you? Your death haunts me to this very day."

"As it should," she said as she crossed her arms. "Poor Papa didn't know what to do after you murdered me. He fell into a great depression, wondering what he could have done differently to prevent his greatest tragedy. For a while, he cursed your name and wished he had never found you and brought you home."

Hearing those words had pained him. He remembered that she used hurtful words to get under his skin, but even thinking about his mentor, Giovanni, thinking bitterly of him made his guilt grow stronger. "Understandable. I was the reason his only child was taken from this world."

He expected her to smile at his acknowledgment, but she seemed to be surprised. "H-Hey, no need to be so quick about accepting the blame," she said with some remorse in her voice. "I-If I wasn't so adamant about trying to see your face, maybe things would have been different."

"But even if you saw my face at another time, wouldn't you still react the same?"

"I wouldn't have been on a balcony," she said with a pout. "Maybe if I waited a few more months or even years, I might have handled myself better."

"Still, my cursed face is the reason you're dead and I am truly sorry for that. There is nothing I can do to make up for such a tragedy for your father. He is justified in hating me."

Luciana sighed before saying, "He doesn't hate you, though." Erik looked at her with surprise, especially when he saw that she was starting to cry. "Yes, at first, he had a hard time sorting out his hate, but he slowly started to blame himself for my death. Though, really, all of the blame should be mine. If I had listened to him lecturing me about empathy for others, I might have grown up to make my father proud. Now, I will never get that chance."

"But . . . Giovanni loved you so much, even at your worst." She chuckled a bit, but it wasn't enough to stop her tears. "When you were away at boarding school, there wasn't a day that he didn't talk about you. Everyday, he looked forward to reading your letters about what you were up to and relaying that information to me. Yes, both of you fought, but what family doesn't argue over little things?"

"Well of course he would tell you all that, but you were like the son he never had. You two got along so well and I was jealous of that."

"You weren't there when I would get angry with him when he disagreed with my, now admittedly, iditoic architectural ideas. He and I would say some hurtful things to each other, but in the end, we were just lashing out because we were angry and we didn't mean it. Like I said, every family fights. You just have to remember that your father truly loves you. Yes, he would get frustrated, but there is nothing you could have done or said that would ever change how he feels about you."

She breathed heavily as tears streamed down her face and even Erik felt choked up from what he just said. "One day, I'll be able to hear those words from him, but he hasn't crossed over yet."

"Pardon?" he asked, taken aback by what she said.

"Believe it or not, but that old man is still alive. I can see him, but I can't interact with him. I doubt he has many years left, or even months, but it seems he has put his life on hold since that day. That is my deepest regret," she said as she took a few deep breaths to regain her composure. "Promise me one thing, Erik. Promise me that you will visit him before he dies."

"If it is in my capabilities, I can certainly try," Erik said full-heartedly. It had not crossed his mind to try and reconnect with Giovanni since that day in fear that he hated Erik for Luciana's death, but after all these years, maybe his feelings had changed. Even if Giovanni still hated him, Erik still at least wanted to say one last time how much his mentorship meant to him and how truly sorry he was for that night.

Unexpectedly, she hugged him tightly and although he was startled at first, he eventually embraced her. Had they hugged even once while she was alive? "Thank you," she said before leaving his side to join a trio of men in the corner, who he just realized were glaring at him the entire time. They were his most recent victims: Joseph Buquet, Ubaldo Piangi, and the Count Phillipe de Chagny. Judging by their expressions, he assumed that they were not as forgiving as the others he had spoken with and he wished to avoid them. Emotional exhaustion started to overcome him and he figured this was his moment to leave the room and find a place to gather up his thoughts. He looked for the shadow woman, who was still playing the organ this entire time, and thought about asking her where to go to leave the manor, but decided against it. Excluding the one bizarre room, he should generally know the layout of the manor and he left the haunted banquet hall to head for the exit.

He was completely wrong. Every hallway he turned into was different from what he was used to and he became lost. Even the storm seemed to have returned as he ventured further and further into the manor. Feeling a panic rush over him, he even tried to open a window to consider jumping out of, but each one was sealed shut. However, he did notice that he somehow made it to the second floor without climbing any stairs.

Eventually, he found one room that was familiar to him: Henry's study. At this point, he was willing to take a sip of brandy to ease his worries; he felt like he deserved it after interacting with the dead. Just like every other corner of the house, the room was covered in dust and cobwebs and the furniture was deteriorating. The alcohol that was in the cabinet looked like it had gone bad, though he couldn't tell if it had been because of expiration or walked to the desk and saw many scattered papers that were either torn or decaying, though, one had caught his eyes. The quality of the paper was poor, but he was still able to read what it said:

Dear Father,

I am tired of our conflict. This report leads me to decrease immodestly in front of you, as it is so difficult to live under your great wealth. Father, please accept the most hypocritical apologies I ever did.

Your dear child,

The page was cut off there. Though, he had a feeling who wrote the letter and who it was addressed to. He looked up at the painting that Henry showed him when he first entered his study and noticed that despite everything else in the room being decomposed, the painting seemed to be untouched by it. He remembered Henry saying he commissioned it after he won a duel with his former business partner, but after talking to Mélanie about "seeing a gray aura" around her uncle, he had a sinking feeling that his former business partner was his brother. It seemed heartless for Henry to be proud of killing his brother, enough for him to immortalize that moment in art, but he also remembered him saying that his business partner was getting greedy and wanted more and more of the company. Erik hoped that this was a last resort, but still, it seemed too extreme for him to comprehend.

However, lightning struck once more, showing a new image in a flash, but he was still able to process what he saw. The skeletal figure he saw in the stretching room had returned, taking the place of one of the men,p[[ and he shot the other man in the back, meaning he fired his gun before the countdown finished. Was this . . . what happened during that duel?

"Not every parent is an angel," a low-voiced woman said from behind him. Although Erik was not in the mood to speak with anyone anymore, he knew that he could not ignore her voice, especially when it was too familiar to him. He took a deep breath before turning around, but the wind would be taken out of him as he got a good look at the woman. Her green eyes had a cold glare that had frightened his childhood. Although she was beautiful, even in her old age, she was far from that in her heart.

"Mother?" he asked timidly.

"Hello Erik," she said with crossed arms. "Tell me, son, are you proud of yourself after you ran away from me?"

"I . . . ," he tried to say, but he didn't know what to say.

"Look at you; a man of your age still blaming others for the way you were treated. Sure, you tried to make things better for you, but they always end in disaster, don't they?" she lectured with a condescending voice. "You are and always will be a curse and the worst decision of my life was bringing you into this world."

"How can you say that to your own child?" he said as he fought tears. Out of all the people he spoke to, the one he wished would apologize to him the most was the one who spewed the harshest words.

"No son of mine would be as ugly as you. You should have been killed once you shrieked your first cry, but your father insisted we keep you. His Christian morals wouldn't allow mercy killings, even on a monster."

"And yet you drove him away with your selfishness!" Erik exclaimed.

"Is that what you think?" she asked before chuckling. "You stupid boy. He left because he didn't want anything to do with you or the woman who was capable of birthing a beast. He was the selfish one: marrying a woman to be his trophy wife. Once the ugliness showed, he wasted no time packing his things and leaving us both."

"Th-That's not true," he said, trying to believe his own words.

"How would you know the truth? You were a baby when he left. Here you go again; blaming others for your actions," she said with words that cut like a knife into his heart. "Did you think your father ever loved you? Of course he didn't and no one ever will. Not even that girl you fancied."

"Leave her out of this," he said with anger back in his voice.

"But she was the victim to your worst crime; she was the only one to have stolen your heart. Poor girl; too scared to escape from her Demon of Music. Everything she did to make you think that she may have some feelings for you was all out of fear for her life. After all, she saw what you were capable of after you hanged that stagehand during her performance. Why do you think she was quick to run into another man's arms? She was trying to find her savior from the Hell you had subjected her to. And how do you repay her for all her kindness: you kidnapped her and threatened to kill her fiance if she didn't marry you. If you think I'm selfish, I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the–," she tried to say, but she felt her son's hand around her throat. She gasped for air as he tightened his grip.

"Be quiet," he choked out through his tears. "I told you to leave Christine out of this. Yes, I did horrible things to win her love, but I realized I was wrong and let her go. I am not trying to pursue her while I've been here and am never planning on it."

"Just . . . you wait," she said in between gasps, yet never dropping her smirk. "You'll want . . . her back and . . . ruin it all." Erik kept his grip on his mother's neck and seriously debated tightening so hard that she would cease breathing or even break her neck, but despite being able to do that to so many people in the past, he couldn't bring himself to do it now. It wasn't because he felt she deserved to live, far from it, especially after what she said. He couldn't really understand his reasoning, but he finally released his hands from her throat, causing her to fall to the ground to gain her breath.

"For so many years, I resented how you treated me," he said as he looked down at her. He noticed that despite gripping so tightly to her neck, there were no red marks where his hands were. "I always wondered how much differently my life would have been if only you had loved me. I always wished I had a mother who would let me do things normal boys did, like play outside or make friends, but you kept me hidden away as your greatest shame. Now, I can partly understand why you did; the people in the town I grew up in didn't exactly take kindly to my disfigurement when it was discovered. We lost Sasha because of that."

"Christ, you're still sad about that mangy mutt?" she said as she finally got up.

"How would you feel if someone you deeply cared about was murdered? . . . Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't feel any ounce of remorse if that person was like me," he said as he looked deeply into her cold eyes. Although he may still fear that look, he was starting to learn to confront it. "By leaving me locked up in the attic, you showed just how much you cared about your own flesh and blood. For decades, I hated you for it and I should still, but during those years, I was able to self-reflect." He stepped closer to his mother as he said, "I could blame you for every tragedy that befell on my life, but in the end, I had to learn that I was the writer of my destiny; my choices are what brought me to where I am now. Though, there are some things I cannot change," he said as he began to take off his mask. It was rare for him to voluntarily take it off in front of someone, but he had to prove a point. As his face was revealed, her breath hitched and she took a step back.

"You're still a monster," she said seemingly under her breath, but he knew she wanted him to hear.

Surprising even himself, he smiled. "You're right, mother. I am a monster, but not all monsters are destined for doom. Even with this deformity, I was able to lead a much more interesting life than I ever imagined. True, most of it came with suffering, but without you, I wouldn't have been able to learn to defend myself, travel the world, meet interesting people who have become friends, and fall in love with the woman that I only dreamed of spending the rest of my life with. So, in the end, thank you, Madeline."

She was surprised by those words, but before she could speak another word, he could hear the sound of a grandfather clock chiming within the room. He looked to see the time and saw it was ringing for the thirteenth hour. At this point, he didn't think twice about the unusual time. He tried to return his gaze to his mother, but she had vanished in thin air. Like she said earlier, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. As emotionally exhausting as that conversation was, he was relieved it happened. He really needed to tell her that, even if she was spewing harsh words back at him. At this point of his life, he had been called every hurtful thing he could think of. Hearing her say it wasn't much different, especially since she was the one who started it all.

Feeling accomplished, Erik put his mask back on and exited the room. He figured the best exit strategy was to return to the banquet hall and ask for the shadow woman to guide him out, hoping that he wouldn't get lost on the way there. However, he could hear a faint voice from the other side of the hallway, seemingly calling to him without saying his name.

"Goblins and Ghoulies, creatures of fright; we summon you now to dance through the night." It was an older woman's voice, but for the first time tonight, he did not recognize the voice. "Spirits and ghosts, on your proud stride, marvel, in the night, the beautiful bride." Erik felt a compulsion to follow the voice as if caught in a siren's spell and walked to where he thought the sound could be coming from. "Warlocks and witches, answer this call: your presence is wanted at this ghostly ball." He traveled up a flight of stairs that he had never seen before in the manor and the voice kept getting louder and louder. "From the twelve strokes of midnight to the ringing haunts, we will waltz together, macabre débutante!" At this point, the voice sounded as if it was screaming in its ear, but as he opened the door to the attic, the voice drew back into a whisper before finishing, "Join now, the spirits, in nuptial doom: a ravishing bride . . . a vanishing groom."

As quickly as the voice appeared, it had disappeared, leaving Erik in a dusty room full of remnants from a past he was not a part of. A wedding dress was displayed on a headless mannequin with care as many hat boxes were scattered across the room. Many pieces of wooden furniture were stored up here, collecting dust and cobwebs, even though they seemed like fine pieces to keep downstairs. More portraits were up here, most featuring Mélanie along with disturbing imagery, such as her riding off a waterfall, a water monster approaching her as she dipped her toes in a river, her and a man enjoying a picnic that would soon be overrun by venomous creatures, and an undead creature rising from the grave as she picked flowers from a garden. As he explored the room, he found a window and looked out, only to discover that he was at the highest level in the house.

He noticed a vanity that had random knick-knacks on the table while the mirror was caked with dust and dirt from years of neglect. He quickly grabbed a nearby tablecloth to clean off the mirror, feeling little guilt as he did since the tablecloth was filthy already. He had a love-hate relationship with mirrors; while it showed ugliness to him, it has been a useful tool for deception. After all, he met Christine through a mirror. As he wiped the mirror, he started to see his reflection, though still a bit muddied. He didn't have any cleaner to give it the proper polishing it needed, but this would have to do for now. Eventually, he got most of the dust off and could at least see an imperfect reflection of the room behind him. He put the tablecloth down on the table, but as he looked back to the mirror, he was startled by the image looking back at him. It wasn't his own face, but rather, a skeletal face wearing a black top hat. However, what really frightened him was that it was the same skeletal figure that haunted those portraits in the stretching room and the study. It unleashed a guttural maniacal laugh as Erik fell behind him, crawling away from the image "Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you prematurely," the figure said. Erik felt his chest heave as absolute terror overtook him and it only intensified as the skeletal figure exited the mirror. Erik knew he had to escape the room, but when he tried looking for the door, it had disappeared. Curse this manor and its vanishing doors! "Foolish mortal, I offer you this chilling challenge: to find a way out," the skeletal figure threatened before releasing another bone-chilling laugh and walking toward Erik. He immediately ran far away from him, though he had few areas to run. He ran to the window, hoping to open it and crawl out, even if he had to hang on for dear life, but it was no use; the window was sealed shut.

"Of course, there's always my way," the skeletal figure whispered in his ear from behind him. He grabbed Erik to turn him around so it could look him in the eye before using all his force to push him out of the window, causing it to shatter to hundreds of pieces and force Erik to fall out. Although he felt himself screaming, all he could hear was the howling of the wind and that sinister laughter as he plummeted to the ground below.

Before he could feel the impact, Erik finally woke up from his nightmare. The sun had not risen yet, but he knew it would not be long before it did. His breathing was heavy and he could feel the dampness on his pillow from sweating in his sleep. He was grateful to be awake as he put his head against his pillow and took some deep breaths to calm himself. However, he heard a caw from the window in the room and looked in its direction. The raven must have moved while he slept, but it waited until he was awake and watching it before deciding to fly out of the window. "What a strange bird," he said to himself as he looked back to the ceiling, letting his mind spiral a bit before proceeding with the day.