The Phantom of the Clergy

Prologue

Twas  the year 2007, about thirty-two years after the mysterious disaster that had set the original Satanic Ministry in Paris, France ablaze. Rain Ghoul couldn't believe that after so much time had passed, the Ministry became desperate enough to begin auctioning off the artifacts that he had once been so familiar with. He walked into the grand lobby of the place. During it's years of glory, before the Ministry was exposed, it had disguised itself as a grand and opulent theatre, displaying the most grand of fine arts. But that was all gone now. 

He walked through the corridors, dodging bits of debris that had been yet to be cleared. He hadn't stepped foot inside this place for many years. His chest tightened as he took in the familiar sights, and those ghosts infiltrated his memory, taunting his imagination, driving him mad. For the billionth time, he cursed Phantom Ghoul. 

He made his way into the once fine ampitheatre, where the auction was being held. 

"Lot 664 then, ladies and gentlemen..." The human auctioneer droned. "A poster of the 1975 production of La Vie Éternelle, an opera written and produced by a mysterious genius who went by the pseudonym 'Phantom.' Starting at 10 francs...? Do I hear 10?" 

Rain ground his teeth at the bastard's name. It seemed everything reminded him of the rage-inducing entity. It took him all his energy to keep his mind on his glamour.  Through the haze of his own disorganized thoughts, his eyes landed on a familiar face. It was Sister Imperator. So, he thought, she came here too, to see off the lasting memories of this place?

It appeared so. She stood by herself near the stage where the auction was being held. She met his gaze and nodded curtly, and then focused her eyes back to the auctioneer.

"...Lot 665. A musical box with the figure of a rat...!" The auctioneer raised his eyebrows at the odd artifact. "Sitting on top of a barrel organ, dressed in peculiar robes that rather resemble that of the Catholic pope, playing what appears to be a kazoo." He looked visibly concerned for the health of whoever would design such an odd thing. "Showing here."

He rotated the delicate crank and the familiar melody of Zombie Queen began to play, and the mechanical rat's arms moved up and down in a curious yet adorable way. "Starting again at 10 francs. Do I hear ten? Splendid. 15? Do I hear 15?"

Rain raised his hand. 

"Do I hear twenty? Madame Imperator?" Sister Imperator raised her hand, giving Rain her signature cold stare.

"Twenty, then.  Do I hear twenty-five...? Perfect, Monsieur Sylvan." He nodded to Rain. "Do I hear thirty?" 

Nothing. Imperator shook her head, glowering at Rain.

"Twenty-five then. Going once... Going twice... Sold; to Monsieur Cosmo Sylvan." The gavel banged against the podium, finalizing the purchase. The music box was handed to him, and Rain handed the collector the twenty-five francs.

He was about to turn and go when the auctioneer's voice caught his attention once more. "Lot 666- a chandelier in pieces." He paused dramatically, motioning to the catwalk to open the mid-stage curtain. An imposing figure was shrouded in a white sheet, and the auctioneer continued his speech as Rain's heart squeezed with sentimentality.

"It is a very old piece, and it was the very chandelier that figured in the mysterious affair of the fire that claimed this theatre in 1975. A crime that was never fully explained to the public... Very strange, very strange indeed. As you all have undoubtedly heard, there were rumors of an uh... unconventional religious gathering. But those are largely speculations and superstitions, and the antique chandelier has been wired with the electric light. Perhaps we can frighten the ghosts of so many years ago away with a little... illumination. Gentlemen!" The auctioneer clapped his hands, and the sheet was pulled, exposing the newly repaired chandelier. The lights flickered once, twice, and they were on, and the chandelier was lifted into the air.

Seeing the chandelier illuminating the whole theatre sent Rain back years and years...