From Shadows to Starlight

Revelation

Chapter Thirty-two

"A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will not escape.” --

Proverbs 19:5

Revelation

This isn’t real. It’s only a nightmare. Wake up! Wake up!

Erik’s chest was on fire. His whole body was racked with pain as he lay facedown on the ground. Maybe I’m already dead, he thought. Maybe I’ve died and gone to hell. He looked up at the sky, and he distantly remembered pointing out the constellations to Alana not so long ago. No, he decided. I’m not dead. There are no stars in hell.

The laughter of the men cut through his pain-clouded thoughts. Slowly, painfully, he crawled around to face them, glaring blackly at Damien, who looked smugly pleased with himself. As he’d moved the men had grown silent, and Erik turned his gaze on Christine, who was wrapped tightly in the Vicomte’s arms. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to see everyone in this place lying in the grass in agony, for them to be in his place, and for him to be in theirs. But he knew, without a shadow of doubt in his mind, that he deserved every single moment of torture he was experiencing. He had long believed a night like this would come.

Erik hurt too much to cry. He was filled with nothing but burning pain, rage, and sorrow. He took a deep breath, which turned out to be more of a gasp that sent a lance of pain coursing through his entire body.

Oh, Christine…

She was watching him, eyes full of tears. He looked up at her. “You betrayed me…again…why?”

“I’m sorry!” Christine sobbed. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t want this to happen…”

“You…betrayed me…” Erik repeated, his mind plunging into despair.

Christine clung even tighter to her husband, who was staring at Erik with hatred.

There was nothing but sorrow. She’d led him into a trap once more, and this time, he did not think he would escape. I gave you my music…made your song take wing…and now, how you’ve repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…

“Please forgive me, Angel. Please,” Christine said.

“There is no Angel.” His hand went to the ring on the chain around his neck. “There is no…Phantom of the Opera.” His gaze went to Emilian. “There is no Devil’s Child.” He looked back at Christine. “There is only Erik.”

She tried to wipe some of the tears away. “Your name…”

Erik was tired, so tired, but sleep seemed a thousand miles away. “You never…asked me, for my name…”

Christine fell to her knees and wept harder, Raoul kneeling to comfort her. “Don’t let him get to you, Christine. He’s just trying to manipulate you, get you back on his side.” He scowled darkly at Erik. “That’s what he always does.”

“You’re wrong, Vicomte,” Erik growled. Then, he tore the chain from his neck and let it go into the air. The ring landed in the grass at Christine’s feet. He fell back onto the ground, trying not to lose himself in the pain. “It’s over now…” he whispered.

“That’s where you are wrong my friend,” came Damien’s voice. “Your punishment is only beginning.”

Christine took the ring in her hands and rose, trembling, to her feet. Then, before anyone could stop her, she took off running into the woods. Raoul moved to run after her, but Damien grabbed hold of his arm. “Let her go,” he said. “Besides, you won’t want to miss this. Men?” He looked to Emilian, who grinned wickedly. “Do what you will.”