Phantom of The Opera (rewritten)

1• The new Singer

Paris, 1889
(1 year after the original)

Azreal POV ×

I just arrived at the glorious Opera house. Just looking at it from the outside is enough to make my arm and back hairs stand, shivers running down my spine at the glorious building.

The name of the play I'm going to be a part of, in huge and fancy letters, written on the flyers around me.

"The Angel of Death"
- By Erik P.O. -

I thought of my casting as a coincidence and amazing knowledge.
The name Azreal means, in a forgotten and torn language, Angel of Death.

I enter, a smile on my face, my eyes widening. Such beauty in this Opera house. The red sits, golden and precious details, lights all around.
I walk to the stage, looking at the paintings and sculptures, art I would appreciate for hours, days, months or even years.

Suddenly a pair of older men approached me, smiling and with expensive and masterly done suits.

"Hello, you must be the new singer, Azreal Morningstar, my name is André and this is Firmin. We are the current owners of the Opera. The managers." One of them speaks, I wasn't really paying much attention, just enough to catch names, especially as they were competing with the beautiful art around me for my attention.

"Oh yes, that's me. Thank you for inviting me to play."

"Not a problem, my dear Azreal, your voice and act have been spoken throughout Europe, coming from a small country like Portugal isn't something you would expect of a talent like yours."

I'm sorry? Did this french man just say something ignorant about MY country? Does he not understand what type of insult he just processed to say? Like it was nothing?

I smile and nod, forcing myself to stay quiet.

"Thank you. Where should I put my stuff? For my act."

"Over in the fifth cabin by the fifth box, don't go into the box though it's.. private." The taller and slender Firmin said to me, seeming rather nervous.

I grab my small bags and my script as mister André handed it to me. In a slow and steady pace, marked by thoughts and curiosity about the fifth box, I stride to my cabin and room. At the same time I read over some of my lines and paper descriptions.

Seems like this man, Erik P.O. had a really strong idea for every character and every move, but leaving enough creative space to which I was comfortable filling with my own little tweaks and quirks.

The whole story was a wonder and written in such a way that made the characters seem even more real. The Angel was a so-called monster, hiding in the shadows to keep from facing his fears and regrets and the lead female character a beacon of light and life to help him step outside of the darkness he locked himself in.

Of course in my careless walking I bump straight into another actor and singer, madam Carlotta. I've heard of her in the industry, she's said to have a beautiful and powerful voice but the contrary attitude, an angel outside, a goblin on the inside, a gargoyle said to terrorise everyone in the cast.

"AH! THE INSOLENCE! DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO WALK BOY?! UHN?! PATHETIC!"

I look down, knowing better than to fight her.

"I'm sorry madame... My manners were not at their highest, I'm a new singer and I really didn't want to disturb you, I wasn't looking."

"You better start looking, boy. I'm not someone you wanna keep bumping into!"

I quickly nod and rushed away from her, my first day and everything was already quite chaotic! I mean now I had an enemy and it was only my first day!

I sigh and get into my room, lighting the candles to make the space lighter. It was as beautiful as the theatre itself. Arranged with gold and rare stones, mirrors imported from outside and silks from the finest places.

In the corner of the room there is a mirror, a tall and imposing glass object that stands at least 6 feet tall (180 centimeters tall). The sides are adorned with different and intricate details and designs, such a rarity in the modern world. It was a piece at least 30 years old and really, a majestic artwork to be adored by centuries to come.

To the glass there was a note attached, a red melted candle in the form of a skull closing it.

I picked it up, opened the letter and read what the mysterious person had left for me.

My dear Azreal,

I wanted to welcome you to my Opera House. You shall play the Angel of Death in the new play coming soon.

If you so wish I would also love to have you be my new angel of music, since mine has parted a year ago.
I won't force anyone, not anymore, as I realised that if one is willing, they will come to me without force or threat.

Yours servant,
P.O.

I have to admit, I'm rather confused... An angel of music vanishing last year? P.O.? As in the compositor of the play I'm about to be a part of?
And his Opera House? I was sure I had met the owners already.

I write a letter of my own, leaving it beside the mirror I once found the first before returning to my unpacking.

Whoever this P.O. is, I only know their name, which I believe to be Erik. The writer of the play and the amazing genius behind the well done characters.

As soon as I am done with all the unpacking and tidying my stuff I walk to the main hall, where I would rehearse my paper and learn how to interpret such a well described yet open character like the angel of death.

I step onto the stage, the dark night enveloping me in its embrace as I start to sing quietly. I swore that I could hear someone singing along.

"...Music...Music...Music of the night~.."

-------

If you liked this chapter please vote and leave a comment so I know you want more!