Le Masque Noir

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Age: 44
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09/28/2023 02:11 PM 

The Phantom - Ch. 2 - The Voice in the Walls

Forever Searching for What He Had Lost
(I have found her)

- Chapter Two -  The Voice in the Walls -

Weeks passed, and Christine continued to sing the haunting melody, unknowingly drawing Erik closer with each note. From the concealed passageways of the convent, he watched her with a mixture of adoration and longing. The nuns had noticed a change in Christine—she seemed more at peace, her voice filled with a melancholic beauty that stirred their souls.

One evening, as Christine sang her heart out in the chapel, Erik couldn't resist any longer. His voice, like a phantom's whisper, joined hers in a haunting duet. Christine froze, her voice faltering as she heard the unfamiliar harmony. It was as if the heavens themselves had joined her song.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked around, feeling as though she was in the presence of an angel of music. "Who are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Erik continued to sing, his voice wrapping around her like a loving embrace. "I am but a humble servant of music, my dear Christine," he replied, his heart aching with the desire to reveal his true identity.

Days turned into nights, and the mysterious presence continued to serenade Christine. She became less fearful and more enchanted by the unseen singer, believing him to be a heavenly guardian watching over her. She shared her thoughts and dreams with the voice hidden within the walls, pouring out her heart and soul as if speaking to a confidant.

Christine became increasingly obsessed with the mysterious voice that serenaded her in the night. She couldn't escape it, even in her dreams, where Erik's voice would visit her, caressing her soul with its haunting beauty.

But as time passed, Christine's health began to deteriorate. The strain of the fever and the constant yearning for the unseen angel of music took a toll on her fragile body. She grew weaker with each passing day, her once-vibrant spirit dimming like a flickering candle.

One fateful night, as Christine lay in her bed, delirious and burning with fever, Erik's voice returned to her. He sang to her with a sense of urgency, as if he could feel her slipping away. His voice resonated through the convent, filling every corner with its haunting beauty.

"Christine," he implored, his voice quivering with emotion. "Sing for me, my love. Sing, and let the music heal your wounded soul."

Through her delirium, Christine mustered the strength to sing, her voice joining Erik's in a heart-wrenching melody. The harmony of their voices filled the room, the very air vibrating with their shared pain and longing. As she lay in her narrow bed, delirious with fever, Erik's voice returned to her. His voice flowed like a gentle river, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Christine's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she thought she saw a shadowy figure standing at the edge of her vision, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

As the song reached its crescendo, Christine's strength gave way, and she lost consciousness. Her fevered body lay still, vulnerable and defenseless.

Erik knew that he had to act swiftly to save her. He had never intended to harm her, only to draw her back into his embrace. With a heavy heart, he emerged from the shadows, his mask concealing his face as he lifted the unconscious Christine into his arms.

Gently, he carried her through the secret passages of the convent and into the depths of the Paris Opera House, where their love story had first begun. There, in her dressing room, he laid her down on a chaise longue, her pale form bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.

Erik's heart ached as he watched over her, his love for her as strong as ever. He couldn't reveal himself to her, not yet. He knew that she needed time to heal, both physically and emotionally.

In the shadows, he waited, and when the time was right, he would unveil himself to Christine, confess his true identity, and pray that she would find it in her heart to forgive him. Until then, he had Madame Giry at his side, the only other person who knew of his existence, to care for Christine and keep her safe.

As the days turned into weeks, the opera house once again became the backdrop for a love story as tragic and beautiful as any opera ever performed.

to be continued...

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