Author's note: There really is no excuse for why this took so long to get published. Between getting around to writing it, transcribing from paper to computer, and then just editing it... For this, I apologize. Started writing the next chapter, which will actually move away from these little sub-chapters and into the stuff I'm sure you're all waiting for. Plan to have this done before the holidays for ya'll. Thanks for being so patient and also so AWESOME.

- Phantom's angel

I'm awake…

The sun shone in Christine's eyes, forcing her to wake earlier than she'd like. The sky was a lilied pink and blue, surrounding her with the mist still heavy over the cleared field beyond her vision. The morning was just approaching and Christine was thankful to be alive.

Dew circled around her on the porch, covering all untouched surface while a tattered cloth rested over Christine's shoulder's offering her the only cover available. She undraped it from around her and examined the tears and rips. It was the remains of what was once her cloak situated over her to serve as a blanket from the cold.

Christine knew it was the ghoul from the night before that dismantled the once finely stitched and heavy material. She knew her soul was almost taken by a spirit just hours prior, but she nearly forgot the entire ordeal as she slept. She rested in such peace all night. But now it was the shadowed figure that filled her mind with wonder. Now, she could not get it out of her mind.

Its strength, its light touch, the longing…

Though confirmed now that it was not Death, it still seemed to embody death as Christine re-imagined it.

It was cold, frail, alert, sympathetic…

As the sun rolled higher into the sky, illuminating through the trees, Christine tested her feet and stood by using the wall from the house as support. Though her legs felt wobbly, she was able to hold her weight despite a bit of light headedness. She could hardly sort her astonishment from the confirmation of the spirits in Perros' woods being so real, yet she also posed more question to who or what protected her and why.

Passing into the house, Christine welcomed the shelter around her, dropping the shambled cloak to her side. It was no use to her now, which was a shame. It was once her one of her favorites.

Luckily, Papa was not awake yet. There was no telling how much longer he would be asleep, but Christine didn't want to arouse his suspicions.

Collecting the ragged cloak from the floor and wrapping it back around herself, Christine quietly made her way upstairs. She awaited the warmth of her bed's covers, for as curious as she remained, she lacked proper sleep and hoped to gain just a little more after her productive night.

As she turned the corner at the top of the stairs, she stopped as she heard a creak from her father's room.

Papa was awake!

Chancing her being heard, she flew through the door into her room and closed the door enough for the latch to not be heard. She jumped under her covers and pulled them up over her head, cloak tangled between her legs, and just as she shut her eyes, the door to her room pushed open and Christine's father peered inside.

Christine held her breath, trying not to express the adrenaline coursing through her.

There was a long pause and Christine could hear Papa's feet shuffling; a trait he often displayed with suspicion or concern. After another moment, the door closed and Christine released her breath. She took little time in thought afterward. Her body ached and eyes longed for a proper dose of sleep. She found herself in a dreamless sleep very soon.

A knock at her door woke Christine later that morning.

"Come in," Christine called out after turning her feet over the side of the bed and straightening out her dress and hair from the previous night.

Perhaps this would fool him to thinking she had been awake already.

Papa Daaé stepped into the room and looked at her, offering another shuffle of his feet. Christine was thankful he wasn't asking any questions.

"Mister de Chagny is here to see you," Papa said. "Should I tell him you are still at bed, or preoccupied?"

Christine frowned.

"Monsieur de Chagny," Christine mocked, "or Raoul?"
"Raoul," Papa said.

Christine stood from the bed and looked in the mirror, pulling the stray strands of hair behind her ears. She glanced at her dress, checking to see if it looked suitable to see visitors in.

"No, Papa," Christine said. "Tell him I will be down shortly."

Papa Daaé paused in the door way, staring at his daughter for a moment before nodding his head and latching the door behind him.

Christine breathed a sigh of relief and took to readying herself, smoothing out the creases of her frock and pinching color into her cheeks. Her eyes appeared tired and distressed still, but Christine assumed it was the thrill of the night still weighing upon her. Despite the peaceful rest she had just acquired, the dreams that plagued her from the night before were still pressing against her.

She shook her head, trying to rid the images of shadow figures and darkened nights from her mind. Instead, she pulled a new cloak out and wrapped it around her shoulders. This would make her appear more prepared to take to the outside chores she knew she could distract herself with.

As she walked down the stairs, she greeted Raoul cheerfully, trying to mask her fatigue.

"Still in bed at this hour?" Raoul grinned.

"Of course not," Christine lied, catching her father's smirk.

Raoul shook his head, standing behind his original assumptions.

Christine continued down the stairs, pulling the cloak high on her shoulders as she neared him. Raoul took her hand in his and brushed a light kiss against her fingers. With a blush, Christine turned away and smiled.

"Perhaps you would like to take a ride with me?" Raoul asked.

"A ride?" Christine asked, surprised by the proposal.

It nearly seemed an impractical feat with how closed in the residents of Perros made themselves. She wondered where they could possibly ride to.

"On horseback," Raoul confirmed. "Unless you are unacquainted with horsemanship?"

"I am familiar with it," Christine said with intrigue. "I would be delighted."

Christine turned to her father.

"May I, Papa?"

"You already have my permission," Daaé said.

Christine gestured for Raoul to wait as she grabbed her boots and scarf from the coat closet. After securing herself in for warmth, Raoul led her outside toward two bay horses tied outside of the porch. A dark maned mare greeted Christine's touch of her muzzle, nuzzling against her arm. Both Christine and Raoul mounted their horses and Raoul led them all north up the trail, which Christine had seldom traveled upon before. As they journeyed, the trees were more scattered, yet heavily furnished. The air grew thicker as they traveled and the smell of salt began to fill their senses.

They were away from the village, packing up the path as the dreary forest faded away to a harshly carved coast line chiseled out of coral-colored stones. The ocean roared against the rocks and beach, complimenting the grey skyline beyond.

Christine halted her horse at the top of the mound of the trail, scanning the horizon before them.

The only time she had seen the sea was when she was on the ship from her kingdom in Knivsta, sailing for Saint-Brieg, settled east from them now. In the north, the sea was over-run by docks and fishing wharfs. The water was forced to remain still against the boarded coast, housing shops, boats and homes along the waterfront. Here, the sea was wild and free, yielding to nothing but the seasons and the tides.

"Come," Raoul urged, kicking his gelded horse down onto the beach.

Christine got hers trotting after them, kicking up sand from her hoofs and slowing her pace as they neared the water.

Raoul dismounted his horse and pat him on the haunches, sending him at a canter down the beach. Christine followed his example. She walked out toward the ocean, running her fingers through her scarf. Raoul came up beside her, looking out into the water wearily.

"It is easy to forget how close the ocean is to Perros," Christine remarked.

"Most never come out to see it," Raoul said.

"Why not?" Christine asked, appalled that they would pass up seeing such beauty.

"They are afraid of the korrigans," Raoul replied simply.

"Are you afraid of them?" Christine asked.

"I am unsure."

"But not enough to stay away from the sea," Christine said.

"It seems not," Raoul said.

Christine's scarf lifted with the breeze, trailing in the wind with its fringe waving wildly. There was a still between she and her companion and they recalled the night of la Toussaint. It was along this very coast that Christine could see the shining light of the korrigan in the distance. Now, she was standing upon her very beach it seemed. Christine grabbed hold of the red scarf and tucked it within her cloak, protecting it from the elements.

"Were you afraid before la Toussaint?" Christine asked.

"I do not know," Raoul said simply. "It was all just part of our lives before and there were no consequences. Nobody we lived amongst had ever seen a spirit before."

Christine slowly nodded. It was clear to her already that she had awakened great fear in the town by her sighting. Yet no one experiences anything within all of their recollected history. Though the stories were capable of being based off truth, what reminded them to all be so afraid? Why hadn't the stories died down over time?

"Has it always been this way?" Christine asked.

"As long as I can recall," Raoul said. "Though perhaps it has become apparent to me as I have grown older."

"How do you mean?"

Raoul paused in thought.

"I suppose my own weariness of the spirits grew with the first person I knew to pass," Raoul said.

"Your parents," Christine said.

"My brother's fiancé," Raoul corrected. "I heard nothing more from Philippe than talk of ghouls and fantômes – all of the spirits –and I knew it was because he was torn to wonder what her fate was."

"Goodness," Christine breathed.

"He put all that talk to an end once my parents died. Surely, it was for my sake," Raoul said. "It just seemed so sudden."

"If it helps," Christine said. "I still believe they became spirits to the Maker."

Raoul smiled to his friend and squeezed her hand. It was clear that he also recalled their conversation en route to the feast of la Toussaint.

"Angels," Christine recalled, as she believed Raoul had referred to them as. It was one belief in the spirit world that they confirmed to have in common.

"You know, angels are more than just spirits," Raoul said.

"Oh?" Christine said. "How is that?"

"Angels sometimes can manifest themselves in different forms," Raoul said. "They can be sent as needed help and protectors – guides even – in forms that are familiar to our own appearance."

Christine looked out over the ocean and imaged a ray of light shining down on them, giving them some form of protection against all of the troubles surrounding them both. This retreat was a wonderful escape for them and perhaps somehow, it served as some form of an angel, as Raoul may have believed it.

"That is comforting to hear," Christine said in a sigh.

Raoul sat down on the sand and invited Christine to join him. Christine ran her hands through the sand, watching the grains fall like time slipping away.

"Raoul," Christine asked distantly. "Do you think all of the spirits surrounding Perros are bad?"

He turned to Christine and looked within her eyes which matched the ocean. He studied them for a moment, hoping to catch her purpose in asking the question.

"They wander this land for a reason," Raoul said cautiously. "Otherwise, they would leave to the afterlife."

Christine nodded slowly. She had the same understanding herself. Those who have passed on were greeted by the Maker and given a forever home. Those who possessed bad souls were left on the earth to wander and torment the living, tempting them with evil and preying on their souls. Yet why had Christine found such comfort in a spirit just that previous night?

"What if they couldn't go to the afterlife?" Christine asked.

"That doesn't seem logical," Raoul frowned. "It would mean those celebrating a commendable life would be subjected to an eternity of torment. Why are you asking this?"

"I just…"

Christine trailed off in thought.

She knew she couldn't tell Raoul what she had done, but she also knew she had to learn more. Her life since she had come to Perros had been nothing but experiences with the spirits and she needed to find out why. There had to be come connection to her. But she couldn't reveal her suspicions to Raoul. Not yet.

"I suppose I can't get la Toussaint out of my head," Christine said.

"I understand," Raoul said. "But I think it would do you good to try."

"Sure," Christine said, nodding reluctantly.

They sat quietly, watching the waves crash on the sand and the horses roam up the bluffs. The clouds grew heavy in the sky, drawing a breeze out of the sky which proved that winter would soon be near. Christine knew it was proof that the night would be dark, allowing perfect shade from moonlight. It would draw her out again to find what had saved her last night and why it hadn't claimed her soul. Surely, something was covering up the truth about the spirits in Perros and Christine wanted to find it.

Christine looked up to find Raoul missing. Somehow, he had disappeared from her side during her thoughts. She stood up and scanned the line of water, frantically searching for the signs of a korrigan. A puff of sand landed against Christine's back, followed by a strain of laughter. Christine turned around to catch Raoul running in the opposite direction, looking over his shoulder as he went.

He was running back up one of the bluffs, up toward a rocky mound, when he turned on top of one of the coral colored boulders and stood victoriously. Christine ran toward him with a pout across her face.

They spend the rest of the afternoon this way; running through the sand, climbing up rocks and playing games of tag. It was as if it were their last chance to be children and their one chance to be free amongst themselves. Raoul said he wanted to show Christine the beauty of Perros; that which not even most of those who lived there had ever experienced.

Raoul knew Perros would be difficult for someone new to the town to get used to. He had traveled outside to neighboring villages throughout Trégor before with his brother. He knew Perros was quite outdated and superstitious, but regardless, it was his home. Now that he had the chance to show off what he loved about it, he found Christine to be the perfect subject.

She fought back, she asked questions, she tried to blend in and she even experienced it to understand. Despite the way Christine had previously been inducted to it, Raoul now wanted to shape her understanding. He wanted to draw her attention away from the negative she had so far experienced, and show her more than just the village, but his home. He wanted her to see there was more to it than spirits and rituals.

They spent most of the afternoon laughing and playing until the sun in the sky began to match the rocky coast's pink hues. The clouds grew thicker and threatened of rain as Christine pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and mounted her horse. Raoul nodded to his companion and they were off, making the ride back down the path toward home. For added safety on their ride, Raoul pulled a lantern out of his gelding's saddle bag and encouraged Christine to do the same.

As they entered the outer edge of the village, Christine led her mare up next to Raoul's side.

"Thank you for the wonderful ride," she said quietly.

"It was my pleasure," Raoul said. "We shall do this again soon."

Christine thought of the possibilities of her adventure she had planned for the night and sighed quietly to herself.

"Perhaps, yes," she said.

Raoul halted his horse at her response. With the urge to follow, Christine's mare mimicked her companion and stopped at his side.

"Are you still concerned over the spirits?" Raoul asked.

Blushing, Christine turned away for her foolishness. She feared the worst; that Raoul suspected her plan for the night. How foolish she felt for her response.

"Fear not," Raoul urged her. "My brother is taking council with a woman connected to the spirit world soon. Perhaps her response can ease your heart."

Christine looked up to Raoul in surprise.

"What duty does Philippe have with a woman connected to the spirits?" she asked.

"Merely to seek advice and guidance in dealing with the problem at hand," Raoul said.

Christine held her tongue about her suspicions in Philippe's fascination in the spirit world and smiled kindly to Raoul.

"Then I await her answers," Christine said.

"I hoped to wait to tell you—"

"That is quite alright," Christine said. "This news will make the evening more dutiful in my chores."

Though Christine had no plans to complete any chores that night. Her mind now raced with wonder, determined more than ever to learn the truth before Philippe found anything out. No, tonight's chore would require more from Christine than her father could ever request from her.

She kicked her horse forward to Raoul's surprise and they continued the rest of their route without comment. Returning to Christine's cottage, Raoul lingered before letting her depart, hoping to steal just a little more in conversation by moving closer and talking more quietly. But Christine's mind ignored all of his actions and fought him away, eventually earning her time to prepare. Raoul was forced to ride away with the two horses, dejected, as Christine rushed about her home silently, preparing for another dangerous night in the woods.