Chapter Thirty: Evermore
Erik didn't go back downstairs.
He couldn't bear the thought of seeing the expectant, hopeful faces of his staff.
Instead, he walked out onto the West Wing balcony, not daring to glance at the bell jar to see how many petals were left on the enchanted rose.
From there, he watched Christine race off on Étoile. heard the clanging of the castle gate as it shut behind her, listened until the sound of the horse's hooves faded into silence as it galloped through the forest.
And still, he did not move.
Not even as the clear sky clouded over and the air grew uncomfortably chilly.
He just stood there, the increasing wind whipping at his cloak, his golden eyes troubled.
His last chance was gone - for good.
While they might have just shared a magical evening together, he knew deep inside that Christine would not return.
After a while, he returned to his room, unclasping his cloak and letting it fall to the ground, before flinging his mask across the room in a sudden burst of rage.
Behind him, he heard the unmistakable sound of Firmin's waddle.
"Well, Your Grace," the majordomo said, his voice chipper, "I may have had my doubts, but everything appears to be moving like clockwork!"
He smiled at his own wordplay.
"It seems that true love really does win the day!"
"I let her go," Erik said, his tone flat.
What good was delaying the inevitable?
It was a large castle, true, but news spread quickly.
Best to get it all out in the open and deal with the fallout.
Firmin's mouth dropped open.
"You did what?" he sputtered, lost for words.
As if on cue, André and Fleurette entered the room.
Madame Giry followed on her trolley.
From the looks on their faces, Erik could tell that they had heard everything.
"Master..." André said gravely, the flames on his candles growing dim.
"How could you do that?"
"I had to..." Erik replied simply.
"But, why?" André and Firmin asked in unison, both looking at him with confusion.
His behavior was so odd.
It was as though he had become a different person.
"Because he loves her," Madame Giry answered for him.
Everyone turned to the teapot.
Her voice was soft, her eyes sad as she looked at Erik.
His shoulders slumped, but he did not deny what Madame Giry had said.
She was right.
He did love Christine.
"Then, why are we not human?" André asked, still confused.
Firmin, however, was no longer confused.
Now he was mad.
"Because she doesn't love him!" he snapped.
"And now it's too late!"
"But she might still come back..." Fleurette suggested hopefully.
Erik shook his head.
"No. I set her free."
He turned his back to the staff.
"I'm just sorry I couldn't do the same for all of you," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.
Then, stepping out onto his balcony, he looked at the empty stable.
Christine's leading Étoile out of the stable had been the hardest thing that Erik had ever had to witness.
The pain he had felt during those first few years after the Enchantress had cursed him paled in comparison to the pain he had felt as Christine urged Étoile away.
He had let his heart, which had been closed for so long, open, and the result?
A deeper wound then he could bear.
Because he knew that the memory of Christine, like the Enchantress's curse, would now stay with him forever.
He peered through the swirling snow, hoping for one last glimpse of her.
But all he saw were trees.
With a groan, he collapsed to the floor.
There was no denying it any longer, she was gone for good.
All he had left of her - all he would ever have of her - were memories that would fade over time, leaving him alone - and a monster, forever.
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