Music in the Dark

Chapter 4: The Third Rose: Pride

When she presented the second black rose to the Phantom, his cerulean eyes flashed.

"Joseph should have focused solely on his responsibilities as a stage hand. Instead, he chose to hunt the Opera Ghost, a decision that would prove to be a fatal error in his judgment. My tolerance spent, the Punjab lasso found its way around the meddling man's wretched neck."

Aveline's hand flew to her own neck, picturing the grisly murder and the corpse that was left behind.

As her lips parted to speak, a small explosion flared underneath the long mirror. The Phantom stood calmly, unconcerned by the fire that erupted below. Aveline fled the room. Her sense of self-preservation over-rid her curiosity to question her abductor.

But, as quickly as the flames had appeared, they subsided. She cautiously peeked into to the orchestra pit, expecting to see a raging fire, but there was nothing. No fire, no sound...and no Phantom. The mirror was empty; she stepped closer to it and saw only her own bewildered reflection. The bottom of the mirror was charred, and a strange mixture of powder and ash lay in a pile on the floor.

Is he a magician, as well as a murderer?

Examining the pile further, she barely made out a steel key that was nestled among the grey. She picked it up and took it straight to the only locked item in the basement: the padlock on the elevator. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she heard the familiar click, and she pulled the chain off the door.

The elevator was frightening, in appearance. It was rather like a large, rickety, wooden crate. On the right wall, a colorful poster promoted a showing of Hannibal. The prima donna featured was none other than Christine Daae.

Aveline was shocked. She had always assumed that her mother was a featured singer, from her father's compliments, but not the star. Her jealousy surged, seeing her mother's maiden name on the advertisement. She would never have that. If she had the voice, she would never leave the stage.

But she didn't. That talent had not been passed down to her.

She bravely stepped into the lift and pulled the lever. As it noisily ascended to ground level, she picked up a scrap of paper from the floor. It was addressed to an unfamiliar name and detailed the order of a small cast of characters: the villain, the hero, the heroine, the seductive sister, and the matron. The elevator stopped and automatically opened its door. She let the note fall back to the floor and walked into a new part of the Opera House.

Looks like a bunch of dressing rooms... I must be backstage.

The first thing she examined was her immediate surroundings. The elevator had opened into a rather large room. It was comfortable, if a little cluttered, with a couch that had seen many performers lounging upon it. She passed a large mirror that, thankfully, only showed her own reflection as she passed by.

In the next room, bolts of fabric leaned against corners, spools of thread lay unraveled on the floor, and sewing machines rusted on damaged tabletops. On a pile of fabric, Aveline found another note. The five characters that had been mentioned on the previous scrap of paper were given costume direction: the villain in the predictable black, the hero in blue, the heroine wearing white, her sister dressed in sultry red, and the delicate matron in fair pink.

Aveline abandoned the note and walked through the doorway to her left. She had barely taken in her settings, when the electric lights flickered and dimmed. Her eyes automatically darted toward the mirror in the room; smoke appeared to swirl behind it, within it. And, eventually, the Phantom showed himself.

"You have come so far. But do you have the courage to see this through to the very end? Bring me another black rose, and I shall have no reason to doubt your devotion!"