Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing.

Christine Daaé sat at the vanity in her dressing room, her head in her hands. Her thoughts were mad, whirling things, none of them strong enough to stay. She was to meet Raoul on the roof in thirty minute's time, yet she could not bring herself to move. Her heart ached for love of him. She could not go to him.

Her father promised her that he would send her the Angel of Music.

Erik – her Angel – the Phantom. The man who set her soul aflame, who taught her song to soar. The man who would burn the world to keep her, trap her in a cage of music. Its gilt edges would be lovely, yet she would die if she stayed.

Her father promised her…

The worlds her father wove for her were filled with love and light and happiness. There was conflict, of course, no story is complete without it, yet the hero always had a clear path to take, a happy ending to reach. Christine could see no happy ending for her tale, not when either way she chose she would be destroying a part of herself.

Her father promised her.

Her father had lied.