Masquerade: A Retelling of The Phantom of the Opera

Erik is dead. Such a phrase in the paper would not mean much to anyone except who the message was for. And Christine de Chagny understood the meaning all too well. It meant that the man who had been her beloved Angel of Music, who had tormented her as the dangerous yet mesmerizing Phantom, whom she had kissed and wept with as Erik Destler, was dead. A vast array of emotions swirled through her like a violent storm as she read that single phrase repeatedly. She felt grief, shock, relief, sorrow and guilt.

There was no doubt in her mind that he had spent those last few weeks of life alone in the shattered remains of what had once been a glorious kingdom of music. She returned down below like she had promised and buried his ring. She couldn’t stand the idea of his legacy being forgotten and turning to dust by the ravages of time, so she carefully gathered every sheet of music she could find, took the music box with the monkey and made to depart. But her eyes were caught by the candlelight playing along the discarded mask of Erik. She shed many tears while holding it, feeling sorrow for the poor man who had so dearly wished to love and be loved in return, shunned for his face, his genius turning into madness. She departed from that place, a place that had once been alive with music and wonder, a place that was now a tomb, never to return.

Christine carefully preserved her finds in a trunk and hid it away in the attic so Raoul would not find it. She knew he would be very angry if he knew what exactly was in the trunk. So, there it stayed, never opened except by Christine when she felt like reflecting on the past. She prayed that, despite his sins in life, Erik had found peace in heaven and had become a true Angel of Music.

But, alas, Christine’s prayers were in vain. Erik did not find peace in heaven, nor did he find it in Hell, for neither side would take him. Heaven was barred to him for his sins, but Hell would not open the gates because of the purity of his voice. He was instead cast back down to earth, his soul bonded to the very opera house he had called his kingdom and was forced to remain there, his soul trapped within a black violin, deep within the ruins of his former home. He would remain there until someone came from Christine’s line that would see past his outward appearance and love him for who he was truly inside and he passed on his gift of music. It was only because of Christine’s prayers for his soul that Erik was even allowed this much, for the purity of her soul far outweighed the darkness in his. So, Erik was spared a fate of forever drifting in Limbo. When his new duty was completed, only then would he be allowed to enter the gates of Heaven.

The years rolled on and Erik waited. No one would go near the opera house now, despite Raoul having bought it at Christine’s behest. Everyone believed it was haunted and many feared they would meet their ends at the end of the Opera Ghost, who was no doubt a true phantom in their fears. It continued this way for several years until the last direct descendent of Raoul and Christine lay upon his deathbed.

The opera house had fallen into disrepair, no one brave enough to go inside and it had fallen to him along with the family fortune. But he was dying of illness and had no immediate family, though there was plenty of family waiting like vultures for his passing, so that they could seize the inheritance for themselves. He thought all was lost until he had received word from a private investigator that he did indeed have one last direct descendent, a granddaughter, the only child of his only child and daughter, who resided in America with her adopted family. He and his daughter had parted ways in anger and bitterness, neither speaking to the other for several years. He was naturally devastated when he learned she had passed on, but had known nothing about the child until now. So, he wrote the will and a letter explaining everything, asking her to come. But he would never live to see her with his own eyes, for he passed quietly from this life that very night.

Meanwhile, deep within the bowels of the crumbling opera house, Erik’s soul began to stir. He knew, just knew, that the one he was waiting for was coming. So, his soul called out for hers, beseeching her to come and find him, to set him free.

Calliope Daaé, only remaining descendent of Christine Daaé, was coming to answer that call, unaware of the history that surrounded her family and just what awaited her down below.