Chandelle Deuxiéme: Foi

Spiritual attunement wasn't that easy for Christine Daaé either as it used to be before, when her father was still alive. One could think, as she was yet so young and mostly very meek and cheerful, that she adored this time of the year. But she merely took up the mask of happiness to hide her real feelings. These Christmases weren't the same without Papa Daaé, as she missed him very much and her grief did not want to disappear. Many people tried to comfort her that time will solve everything, but it did not seem to. She found it harder to be happy and hopeful in this season, when she was a child and Papa would tell her stories and she could feel his love, everything was so easy. Whether they spent Christmas Eve somewhere travelling or at Mama Valerius's home, she knew that love will make them content and happy, it can turn windstorms to a light summer breeze and a supper containing only a single slice of dry bread taste like cake.

But now, only Mama Valerius was there with her in that small apartment and she was ill as well. Christine was afraid many times that she was going to arrive home one day to find her lifeless body in the bed. She was terrified of the mere thought of losing this only loved one she still had with her.

Only music, praying, and remembering her beloved Papa were the only thoughts she had at that time- and even music wasn't her forte. She wasn't that extremely talented as her father would always tell her. Many people were way better than her, both in technique, both in vocal sounding, and her attitude was so shy and quiet as well that she always remained in the background, unnoticed. She started to accept her fate of being a mediocre little singer and the fact that she isn't any good, never was, and never will be.

Until that beautiful day finally arrived.

It wasn't even a beautiful day, to begin with. It was mid-October and heavy rain was falling from the skies, endlessly, for hours. It was early morning, and Christine should not have been at the Opera in such an early hour, but she wasn't able to stay home after she got so scared of Mama Valerious's another nasty coughing fit. She was always in panic when someone had a coughing fit, as Papa Daaé coughed a lot in his last months and it always reminded Christine that it was a warning sign of she was going to lose him. She was ashamed of her behavior, but to be honest, she simply fled from home to the Opera. She was wandering through the corridors and was just aimlessly walking up and down on the stairs, then went to her dressing room to relax a bit and took some deep breaths to calm down when…

She heard that voice.

It was enchanting, beautiful, hypnotic and pure just as an angel's. It sang an unknown song on an unknown language, which fact just made things more exotic and otherworldly. It sounded to come from somewhat far, but it was getting closer and closer, just as it was walking towards her dressing room on the corridor. She ran to the door and opened it, peeked outside, but could see nothing. She shrugged and tried to convince herself she heard nothing, but the song still could be heard. She was afraid for a moment that she was going crazy and to make sure it wasn't the case, she nervously called out:

- Who is that?

The music ceased right away, the voice disappeared. She couldn't be sure but maybe she heard a tiny gasp.

- Who is there? – She repeated half curiously, and half nervously.

No answer. She looked outside again, but found nothing there.

- It is such a pity you left. – Christine admitted sadly. – What a beautiful voice you have. You sing like an angel.

There was a long pause. The stranger, hidden in one of his hiding places, was confused. He was nearly caught… but… he just heard someone complimenting his voice. It happened so rarely that he heard positive things being said about him. He did not really know what to do. He was confused. Should he run away like a scared rat and make sure never to sing again while walking…. As he could be heard… or… or should he take the risk of talking?

He just stood there for some minutes, silently, not even daring to breathe normally as he was scared they might hear him. His heart was beating audibly in his ears and he was worried it is so loud that the girl might notice it.

Finally, he was strong enough to overcome decades of fear in exchange of some nice words. He was surprised as well, that it could happen, but he slowly opened his mouth, nearly against his will, and these words left his skull – like lips:

- It is just me… - he was thinking if he should finish the sentence with his usual nickname "The Phantom of the Opera", but he later chose rather not to.

- You have a beautiful voice. – She said again. – Even while speaking, you sound like an angel.

- Merci. – He stuttered, blushing bright red under his mask.

- My name is Christine Daaé. – She continued, being curious of who this man might be.

- I'm pleased to meet you. – He replied out of routine, but did not tell his name in return. He was, indeed pleased to meet the girl, she was so kind to him. He did not stay any longer though – he left as Christine could not hear him anymore that day.

Then things just escalated so quickly. He heard her sing, and he did not like it at all. And then came the music lessons they had been taking for nearly two months already. He did not dare to admit to himself either, but he needed her companion, as she was the closest he could have called a friend. And when she asked him if he was the angel her father sent her… what he should have been said, anyway? "No, Christine, I am not an angel, I am a horribly disfigured serial killer living in the basement, sleeping in a coffin, and stalking you through your dressing room mirror for a month." Well, he thought it didn't sound too well… so he should not even try to explain. He just decided to say simply yes, for the sake of their relationship could continue.

Christine's faith returned. As her singing skills developed, she regained her faith in herself. She believed in her father still watches over her, and she believed, wholeheartedly in the Angel of Music who keeps making her sing better and better day by day. Her heart filled up with hope and faith, and as Christmas was near, it just got stronger. She turned her heart and soul to the Bible again, she was reading it, especially the story of Jesus's birth. She prayed every evening before and after performances, and asked in the prayer that God shall take good care of the Angel of Music. Erik once overheard this prayer and started crying as he got so touched.

What God meant to Erik…? What faith meant to him…? Nothing, really. Nothing until Christine Daaé actually prayed for him. Someone cared for him enough to mention him in a prayer was a new and unexpected push for Erik's soul to turn back towards his long- forgotten and abandoned God. He at first just prayed for Christine's health and success, just as she was praying for him. After, he developed a habit to look into the candlelight of the advent wreath to meditate and think about his relationship with God. After some thinking, he finally knew what to do to make him forgive his sins, and maybe, after make him happy – to write a Mass for Christmas, and teach Christie Daaé to sing it on Christmas Eve – but he has to be in hurry- he is running out of candles!

It is already the second one he had to light that day- only two candles left till Christmas… two weeks.

Two weeks to both write and teach a Mass… it will be hard, but not impossible. This will be a great way to show his faith and willingness to turn to God – he is going to show him that he can work with his blood and sweat for two weeks- without, or with the least possible sleeping.

He was sitting at his organ, trying to search for the most accurate keys to write the Mass in, and prepared red ink and a totally empty pile of sheet music paper in front of him. He thought about Christine, her beautiful clear blue eyes, her golden hair and… her beautiful, angel – like features. As he closed his eyes, he saw Christine as an angel, playing on a harp, singing a beautiful and sweet melody, jumping from cloud to cloud in Heaven. He smiled with his malformed lips and gave his soul completely into the vision. When he opened his eyes again, he felt completely relaxed, peaceful and inspired – not even being mad at himself for falling asleep. As he looked at his pocket watch, he realized that he only slept for 20 minutes, but it was way more relaxing than the usual 4-5 hours of sleep in every 2-3 days, he usually was able to go through. With a final deep breath, he dipped his pen in the red ink, and started writing.

Faith is returning to everyone and the second candle is already lit.