Chapter Two

"Christine," a woman's voice said softly as I felt myself waking up as she gently shook me. "Christine, wake up."

"Mmm...yes," I mumbled, keeping my eyes closed.

"It's time for your lesson."

"But...it's late," I said, opening my eyes and sitting up in my bed. I looked around the room. Where was I? This wasn't my room back home, nor was it my hotel room. And why was I being called Christine? My name was Sophia. Didn't this woman know that?

"I know, Christine, but you know that your Angel only appears to you at night."

"Yes, of course," I said, nodding. I looked at the woman, realizing who it was. It was Madame Giry. I had seen her picture in the Opera House. She was the ballet mistress there back in the late 1800s. So...why was she here now?

"Hurry and put your robe on. He'll be here any minute."

I nodded, hurriedly putting the robe on and tying it. "Thank you, Madame."

"You're welcome, Christine. Have a good lesson," she said, and with that, left, shutting the door behind her.

I looked around the room, taking in the scent of it and the setting. This, of all of the things that I had seen earlier, seemed the most familar of all. I looked in the mirror. I saw myself. My curly brown locks, my fair skin and my brown eyes. So why I was I being called Christine? Was this all a dream? I hoped it all was...and yet, it all seemed real.

"Christine...Christine..." a voice, a strange sweet sound that sounded all too familiar sang throughout the room. No...it can't be...it couldn't be Monsieur Destler. Why would I be dreaming of him? But his voice...his voice...

"My Angel, I am here," I replied, looking towards the mirror. It was as if I knew where he would be. Just as I did, a dark figure appeared on the other side of the mirror, wearing all black and a white mask on the left side of his face, ironically the same side that Monsieur Destler's face was scarred. The mirror slowly slid open and the figure stepped out, smiling at me as he did so.

"A short lesson today, my dear student."

"Yes, of course, My Angel."

"I'm sorry that Isabelle had to wake you. I know that you've had a trying day with La Carlotta."

"How do you know -"

"I'm your Angel, Christine," he said, taking my hand, kissing it gently. "I know everything. I watch over you."

I smiled, giggling softly. I knew what he was talking about. I could see a memory flashing through my head. I saw myself dancing by the diva, La Carlotta, during a rehearsal of an opera called 'Hannibal.' I could see her shoving me out of the way so she could sing and I saw myself being caught by Madame Giry.

"Now, I just want you to run through the aria from Act Three of 'Hannibal' until I stop you," he said, sitting down on my bed.

"Without a piano?"

"Yes, without a piano, Christine. You'll do fine. Now, begin."

I nodded, taking a breath.

Think of me

Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye

Remember me once in a while

Please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long

To take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment

Spare a thought for me

He put his hand up and I stopped, looking at him, worried. He smiled, standing up and walked towards me.

"You are ready, Christine," he said, lightly brushing my cheek with his fingers. "Tomorrow night, the world will fall in love with you. Tomorrow night, you...will be the diva."

"How? Carlotta never misses a show. There is no hope for me."

"There will always be hope for you as long as I'm there," he said, kissing my forehead lightly. "Now, get some sleep and I shall see you tomorrow evening."

I nodded, going back over to my bed and laying down as he left my room through the mirror, slowly sliding it closed behind him. As I fell asleep, I began to wonder...what did all of this have to do with me?