𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 (𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎)

Chapter One

The streets of Paris were peaceful and quiet in the heights of the afternoon. All that could be heard from outside were the fleeting winds and the gentle passage of carriages over the gravelled grounds, a rhythmic click of hooves over the faint murmur of voices.

Few people were present in the areas surrounding the Palais Garnier. Merchants and passersby carried out their duties ordinarily, entirely unknowing of the dark eyes that peered at them from one of the balconies that the grandiose building possessed. Between monumental arches and hidden beyond the columns of grey stone, a ghost.

The looming presence stood in the midst of oblivion. It was the image of likeness to a god's observation over helpless humanity, those eternally lost and unheard whilst pleading through the loss of blood and tears. A swift flash of black veiling, and the presence was suddenly gone. Quick to return to the depths of the Opera House in perfect silence with not so much as the slightest trace that it was ever there.

The theatre hall within the Palais, as opposed to the mysterious Opera Ghost, was nowhere near as silent.

The common hallways were bustling with activity. A chorus of lively voices echoed in feminine laughter and cheer as the girls from the corps de ballet ran through them to retrieve their positioning for their first act. Each one of them pranced around the stage in the theatre hall in practice and with due enthusiasm, sporting their costumes that had just recently been tailored for the occasion. Through their pirouettes and turns, the sequinned skirts and drapes they wore, though simple, looked particularly enchanting in movement as they flowed effortlessly through the air. Ethereal, just as what had been intended by design.

The background that surrounded the ballerinas was no less impressive. Beyond the cascading red curtains, images of rich mythological landscapes ranged in all kinds of colourful tones and vibrant greens across the backdrops. They were painted across wooden panels positioned in the far back of the stage to emulate the enchanted forests depicted in Botticelli's Primavera, the painting on which the current opera was based.

Though many had questioned the origin of such a striking subject choice during the previous months in preparation, Madame du Maurier, the elusive secretary who served as more of a manager than the stage manager himself, insisted that the composer wished to remain unknown. The same principle applied to his motives and chosen fixations, as well.

Because of this, nobody but her knew anything about this mysterious benefactor beyond written communications and rumoured encounters amongst the youths. And without a doubt, beyond the infamy he'd gained through the tales of his bringing of death...

Evidently, the mystery of this supposed composer's identity inspired tales of the macabre amongst those more inclined to believe them. In their minds, he who remained so greatly unknown ought to have been a devil or a ghost...

Or rather him, the Phantom of the Opera.

Bedelia Du Maurier seemed adamant on maintaining her silence surrounding such a fear inducing subject. Particularly amongst the impressionable young girls she served as secretary to, given that they were rather predisposed to fear and distress at such notions. Many rumoured that Bedelia had vowed to keep her silence many years prior when strange disappearances and uncanny deaths had become prominent within the Palais Garnier. - A good thing then, that there had been murder no more. Not for a decade as far as Bedelia knew. She spoke not a word of his identity, still.

Once all of the ballerinas were gathered, the Maestro, Monsieur Price, gave his cue to begin with a steady wave of his hand. A melody carried seamlessly through each of the resounding instruments of the orchestra, signalling to all that the opening act had just commenced. The girls took their turns dragging their pointe shoes neatly across the box of rosin placed strategically out of view. They stepped out one by one beyond the red curtain to begin the performance of their first act: the dance of the forest nymphs in welcome of their deity, their lead, Aphrodite.