Forget All You Know

At the tomb.

Erik was alone. And this was not unusual. Indeed, he was often alone, almost always. But for the past few months, Erik had lived entirely on his own.

But the past few months had transpired, and he had seen the woman he loved run into the arms of another man. He had done terrible, terrible things to keep her by his side, under his wing, but in the end...he had let her go. For who could cage her? How could he keep her in the dark beside him when she deserved the sun and moon above, and a man she could look on with joy? These months, that choice, had taken their toll on him, and now he stood alone, in a midnight-shrouded graveyard, bells tolling quietly from the small church, and in the distance, the faint glow and chaotic noise of the Opera Populaire, ablaze in the night. He could never return.

Before him was the grave of one Monsuir Daae, the famous Swedish violinist. Erik gazed down at the weathered stone with as much of a wry smile as his barely-half-of-a-face could muster, cold as it was to be freed from the mask for the first time out of doors, even hidden under his long cloak hood.

"Monsuir." His voice came softly, barely a whisper. "You have much to be proud of. Your girl...your child...your Christine..." He choked on the name, its sound stinging his tongue. Taking a deep breath, he continued on a sigh. "She was indeed gifted with your musical prowess."

He couldn't bare to look forward anymore, and dropped his eyes to the ground, his already imperfect vision on his right side even further impaired by the salted drops that were falling onto the snow.

"Her Angel watched over her for as long as he could. Her Angel gave her everything that you had no time to give. And her voice..." He managed the briefest of smiles, wracked with pain. "Well...now it soars. And her Angel will not sing songs in her head any longer."

The snow crunched heavily under his knees as he dropped, hands falling to his sides, staring at nothing now.

"No...now she is a woman...a wife. And I...I am alone. As I have always been."

He sank lower to the ground, glad of the numbing chill of the night on his exhausted bones. Had he been so weak when he'd set out? Had he been so fragile from her departure that he could so easily become lethargic in the snowy bank?

As he slumped up against the stone, he thought he could hear something, someone... But he was too weak to move now, and growing more so by the moment.

The voice grew stronger, not distinctly masculine or feminine, but high and soft in his fading awareness.

"Right hearted man in the darkness...you set her free in the night...I grant you this gift for your kindness, a chance for life in light..."