The vengeance of Hell boils in my heart,

Death and despair flame about me!

If Sarastro does not through you feel the pain of death,

Then you will be my daughter nevermore.

Disowned may you be forever,

Abandoned may you be forever,

Destroyed be forever

All the bonds of nature, if not through you

Sarastro becomes deathly pale!

Hear, Gods of Revenge, Hear a mother's oath!

~Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

~~~Chapter 18~~~

Almost immediately, Christine wished she could turn around and waltz right back through the mirror. The first thing she found upon leaving her room was Raoul leaning against the wall with arms crossed and fire in his eyes.

"Well, are you going to explain yourself, Mlle. Daaé?" he asked, standing up straight as she wearily approached. His body was blocking her way down the hall, forcing her to stop in her tracks.

She eyed him wearily. "Excuse me, Monsieur, I'm not sure what you mean."

"You have a triumph of an evening that ends in the strangest duet I've ever heard. You retreat to your dressing room, only to never be seen for the rest of the night. Yet, here you are; in a fresh dress. Please,do tell, who was the magnificent tenor who accompanied you last night?"

"You must be mistaken, Raoul. I went straight to bed last night after the performance." Christine cocked her head and clasped her hands together in front of her.

At that moment, down the hall, the door to the main rehearsal room opened and the conductor stuck his head out. "AH! Mlle. Daae, thank goodness! We have a bit of a conundrum and you may save us all! Please…" he gestured for her to follow and then immediately disappeared again.

Christine looked back to Raoul with an apologetic expression. "My apologies, Raoul, but I am needed. We probably should have a conversation soon...I'm sorry, but...I cannot accept your patronage any longer," She gave him a sad smile and slipped into the rehearsal room.

Raoul blinked, trying to not let his disappointment show on his face. Instead, he squeezed his fists, a look of anger flashing into his eyes. "Yes, we shall have a conversation soon, indeed." With that he stalked off, leaving the empty hallway with a stilted gait.

Louise, a lovely coloratura, was sitting in a wooden chair, obviously in a "delicate condition", crying her eyes out in front of the shocked chorus. She hugged her huge belly and bawled loudly.

Christine's eyes were wide as she looked between the distraught girl, the choir master and the conductor. It was obvious why she was here. Their pleading eyes and the new diva out of commission…

"...it would only be for two more weeks. It would not affect your travels," the choir master begged, looking apologetic.

Christine guessed she had some coloratura to learn in twenty-four hours.

The moment rehearsal ended, Christine rushed back to the dressing room and locked the door. She rushed to the mirror, touching it faintly. "Erik?" She called uncertainty.

Just as he promised, his voice filled the room. She was able to place the source of it now, though, as it reverberated and resonated behind the mirror.

"Mlle. Daaé; I was not expecting you so soon," he commented, an undeniable warmt in his voice.

Christine smiled awkwardly and held up the score for The Magic Flute. "Our union as teacher and student apparently has not quite died. Care to teach me to be a coloratura?"

"You have those capabilities," he reminded her. "I would not be teaching you any skills you don't already possess. The Queen of The Night?" With that he opened the mirror, revealing himself once more.

She nearly melted when his tall form was revealed. She would never get over how striking this man was. How powerful. He could hold an entire room's will, bend it and control it like a master puppeteer.

She nodded and entered the passageway, letting him close the mirror behind her.

Again, they descended down to his lair. "You had an encounter this morning, did you not?" He asked, clearly referring to the angry Viscount she had bumped into.

Christine sighed deeply. "Raoul has always been a bit...insistent… in getting his way. I wouldn't worry about him though."

They spent the rest of afternoon studying Mozart…. With some frequent breaks to exchange lungfuls of air. Christine spent the night again and once more they woke in a state of bliss.

The next evening, Christine found herself being slathered in grey and blue grease paint and wrapped head to toe in sheer taffeta and sparkling stars. A gigantic black wig was piled atop her head, decorated in jewels. She looked quite the imposing figure and she giggled at herself in the mirror.

Christine heard a knock on her door. Pinning the last of her costume around her, she traveled to the door and opened it, her eyes still on her costume. "Yes?" she asked distractedly.

Opening the door was her former suitor and patron, the Viscount, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. "Mlle. Daaé. I have been trying to find you to have that conversation you mentioned, but it would seem that you are quite a difficult lady to find these days," he commented, a dark edge to his voice.

Christine swallowed her irritation. "My apologies,, monsieur. I have been very busy learning this role for tonight. I have been inaccessible. After the show, I can certainly meet with you. Now, if you excuse me, I must prepare." Christine knew that she was being a bit short, but the man was beginning to make her uncomfortable.

Raoul, of course, didn't give a damn if he made her uncomfortable. He stepped in and locked the door behind him. "No," he said sharply. "I am not some toy for you to discard once you tire of it, Mlle. Daaé. Not after all the time, money, and effort I have spent on you, you insolent girl!" The edge to his voice grew sharp, uncompromising."Now, I demand to know the meaning of this outrage." He gave a long, pause, before adding dangerously, "and I dare you to try and avoid telling me again."

Christine blew out air through pursed lips. This was perhaps the most inopportune time for this conversation. However, it looked as if there were no way to avoid it. She gestured for him to enter and turned to sit in one of the visiting chairs.

"I thank you for all you have done for me, Raoul, I truly do. But I… received a better offer from a more musically inclined patron. To accept his patronage would give me endless opportunities for my career. And… Raoul, I could never give up the stage!"

"You would chose the life of a singer over the life of a Viscountess?" He asked, shaking his head at her nerve. "Tell me, then, who is this lucky patron that has you so enthralled?"

Christine was quiet for a moment. "The Baron du Valance has returned. He wishes for me to be by his side. And I wish to be by his."

"The Baron. Yes, him." Raoul murmured, rising to stand. "Very well. So be it. I will not trouble myself any longer over a woman who spreads her legs for every man that comes her way."

An original line, Christine thought, but the look in his eyes made her second guess any sarcastic reply. Her blood ran cold, seeing for the first time the deadly amount of rage in his gaze.

"We all knew who had you first." He growled, stalking out of the room, leaving Christine wide-eyed and afraid.

The Magic Flute had always been a favorite amongst the Paris audiences, despite its lack of French origins. When the grandiose character of the Queen of The Night stepped onto the stage, the audience exploded in applause, stopping the opera for almost two minutes. The entire theatre was on the edge of their seats for Christine to sing the famous aria.

Box Five was occupied, and for a change Christine could make out slightly more than just a shadow. Erik's figure sat, eagerly awaiting how she would do on this challenging aria with such short preparation. Christine had done wonderfully navigating the dialogue which was often the bane of non-native German speakers.

One box across from Box five was notably empty. The Viscount was not to be found.

Christine heard the introduction from the orchestra and fell completely into her role. The aria began perfectly, giving Christine the much needed boost of confidence. Her eyes locked on Box Five; she would be completely unaware of anything else around her.

This laser focus would be unfortunate for her wellbeing in that moment, as she might have otherwise noticed a ruckus backstage. If she hadn't been so focused, she would have seen a figure in a grotesque, red- horned devil mask render a stagehand unconscious with a heavy leaded blackjack before taking a knife to the fly system. The figure worked quickly, cutting through the thick rope. First, the backdrop began to shudder, before crashing down behind her; sending some choristers who were making a crossing scattering to the side, cries of terror and fear interrupting the aria. Christine screamed and ran to the wings, but was thwarted as the curtain legs shuddered and heavy poles in which the hung on crashed down, causing several near misses for Mlle. Daaé.

She was effectively trapped on the stage, surrounded by debris.

Suddenly, the grand chandelier that hung so proudly in the center of the Palais Garnier shuddered and shook, only to swing wildly when a stabilizing eye-hook snapped free from the ceiling, falling to the floor and rendering some poor gentleman unconscious. This caused the chandelier to go careening towards the stage: center, specifically where Mlle. Daaé was standing. The maestro dove to the side just in time to avoid the brunt of the blow.

Christine stood frozen, too shocked to scream. She watched the grand fixture swing toward her like a wrecking ball, and all she could do was desperately call out, "Erik!"

When Christine looked to Box Five, she would see that it was empty. Erik moved like a shadow through the hallways which were rapidly approaching a state of panic. He'd come to the back stage and burst through the warning door and emerged into the wings. By this point, the other masked man was nowhere to be found. The chandelier was swinging wildly towards the frozen soprano.

Erik jumped onto the stage, much to the shock and awe of those who were still in their seats, too petrified to move. He shoved Christine out of the way just as the chandelier came crashing down onto the stage. It struck Erik, flinging him backward, the debris landing to cover his body.

"Erik!" Christine screamed with every bit of power her operatic voice could carry. She ran to the wreckage and fell to her knees, searching for him.

His body had been spared the majority of the brunt of the blow by a narrow miss, anda sprawled Erik came to in a moment, dazed. "Follow me...we must get you out of here," he growled seeing Christine, staggering to his feet.

Christine let big tears of relief trail down her cheeks as she rushed to him and hugged him around the waist tightly. "My God, I thought I lost you!"

"You cannot kill an opera ghost," was the only reply as Erik pushed her away from the wreckage.