Down… Down… Down we went. Further and further into the abyss under the Earth, I let the masked man take me into his world. My eyes soon grew accustomed to the blackness, and I began to make out my guide's outline. Still holding my hand, he helped me down the eternal spiraling stairway. Soon, light was seen at the bottom of the stairwell, given off by torches on the walls. At the bottom, there was a lake, and a long boat tied to the shore. My companion made motion to go unto the boat, but some intuition held me back. The Stranger looked back to me with a reserved rage in his eyes. "Come," He said, not releasing my hand, "It's too late to go back. You've past the point of no return."

These words struck a chord in my soul. Those words… the lyrics to a song long forgotten? Somehow, these seven words pulled my feet into the boat. The man picked up a pole, and drove us down the lake. Strange and grotesque carvings grace the walls, giving the cavern an ancient, cursed look. A portcullis raised before us, and black curtains magically parted to reveal an enchanting, underground palace carved into the cavern's wall. There were candle's all around, giving the room a look of soft sunlight. The boat bumped to a stop on the shore, and the man stepped out, removing his cloak and leaning the pole against the wall. He spoke not for a few moments, surveying me silently, while I took in the room around me. This was the same room where I was taken before. There was the swan-like bed where I awoke, and behind the man was the majestic organ was. "Well," He spoke, begining to circle me; surveying my body like a horse for sale! But I saw his eyes travel to my torso, where I know he could see my scaring behind the simple flannel of the nightgown I wore. "Mademoiselle, you seemed to me at first a simple, common woman, but I do believe you come from worthy enough history." He knew my backround just by looking at me? "However, you hide your... abnormalities from the world. I know... how you feel. I have not the arts to mend your demented skin, but I may be able to ressurect your voice."

This was the moment I'd been waiting for. Maybe he wasn't such a monster-

"For a price."

Somehow, I knew this would be too good to be true. Standing a little taller, and cocked an eyebrow as to say What's the catch?

"You must agree to three things. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Good. First, you must never tell another soul about what we do, or of my existance. Second, You must come at every Saturday evening, at Midnight in the Primma Donna's room. And lastly... you use your voice only for what I say you can."

WHAT? My jaw dropped down in protest, staring this... creature down. He stared back, his gilded golden eyes boring into mine. In the end, those eyes won. I thought to myself that speaking with restriction was better than no speech at all. So I nodded an affirmative.

"Good, Mademoiselle Rhyder. Tonight will mark our first lesson. Sit on the bench, and I will soon return." He glided from the room without any further sound. I looked around this cave, this dominion of the man who would give me my voice in exchange for my soul. He came back through the passageway carrying a small glass full of a putrid smelling liquid. "Drink." He commanded. I sighed. This was going to be a long process, I thought while downing the liquid, grimacing.

And it was there, ladies and gentlemen, is where I began this tale five years ago. For years the man who I once ran from in a dark hallway, full of dread and fear, has been one of the closest people to me. Erik and I shared a sort of bond that only people shunned by most of the world can know. Both deformed by the Almighty, we soon became close friends. Some two years after my arival at the Opera House, its resident Ghost becamea sort of protector of mine. And in return for the miracle that he would bestow upon me, I would make sure his underground home was clean and tidy. And when he felt lost, lonely and sad, I was there to comfort him. And Dominic? He remained ignorant of my secret friendship; I couldn't tell him now anyways, it's been so long. We remained just friends during these long years, though I longed in my heart of hearts to tell him how I loved him so.

And I found out the identity of the new patron.

I did think he was familiar at the time, though I didn't recognize him at first. Maybe the five years aged him beyond my memory. but I learned from Dominic that he was none other than Damien , from Rouen. None other than my fianceè I had thought lost in the fire. When I learned that, I became even less out and about the theatre, avoiding any and all confrontation with the man I once loved. Embarrasmentfor myself kept me at bay. One day, all thoughts of Damien left my head.

For the day came when I found my words at long last.

I sat at my master's organ bench, waiting patiently for his return from where ever he was. I stroked the keys lovingly, as If petting a favorite cat. One of my fingers slipped, and plunked down extra hard on a key, sending out its lovely melody into the cavern. I released the key, but the beautiful note still echoed all around me. I remembered what Erik had told me once..."One misplaced note may lead to an opera." Or a "miracle" a voice in my head whispered as I gazed back onto the keys. Throughout the years, Erik had tried to coax my voice though medicine and therapy, but the most I've been able to do is a nasal humming in the back of my throat. But now, looking at the magnificant organ in front of me, I felt a new strength swell in my heart, and I pressed onto the key again. The same note sounded, and I tried to force the same note from my vocal cords. The humming in my throat grew stronger, but there was no great change. I switched to another key, and tried again.

Then, my friends, my long awaited miracle had begun.

Like the old stories of King Arthur of England puling Excalibur out of its stone, I felt the music rise from... from within my soul and come out of my mouth. Now, granted, the sound wasn't much, just barely above a whisper, but It was Glory to my ears. "Aaaah," I said- I said, mind you! Not thought, or wrote!- and looked around for something to read off of and say aloud. I spyed a sheaf of paper Erik had been writing on, and snatched it up. It was a musical score, and the paper looked old and yellowed, but the words lept off the page and into my mind. "A...an..." I forced, my vocal cords already tiring, "Ang...el of..."

And that was all. My voice chose to expire then and there. But it didn't matter, for the promised miracle came true.

"Brava, Rhyder. Brava." I spun around to find my friend and savior, Erik, gently applauding my voice.