Faster and faster, he fell. He felt the lashing wind, which fanned the searing flames around him even more. It seemed the heat literally burnt his face away. He couldn't see where he was falling, since his face was turned to the sky. He only recognized, how the stars above him went smaller, until he gave up any hope of reaching them. Appalled he saw, how his rainbow-coloured feathers burned and turned to black, His wonderful wings, he has been given by God had now turned into wings of the night. He closed his eyes and felt the tears he shed vaporizing the moment they left his eyes. When he finally crashed down on the earth, he had always loved his eyes widened and all the breath left his lungs at once. He saw how the stars in his sight blurred out, before his surrounding went black.

Gasping for air he sat up. The sweat was still on his white face as he clamped to his blanket. It was the same dream as the nights before. The same dream he had known all his life. The same dream that woke him up, screaming as a little child. When he was roughly told to hush, so no one would ever know, he existed. He locked that memory away and angrily tightened his shoulders. This child was no longer there. He stood up and flinched at a well-known sound. This so-called Soprano, which had represented the Opera Populaire for 19 seasons now. She might have been good in her past. But now her voice was straight up horrible. He felt his ears would be bleeding soon if he didn't put an end to this.

He reached for his coat and took a short look in the mirror to check his hair and the mask were in place. Then he made his way over the lake and upstairs. He usually used the mirror of an empty dressing room. Or at least hit had been empty until today. When he stood right in front of the mirror and was about to open it a beautiful, yet fragile female voice found its way to his ears. He froze in his movement, fearing that whoever was there in the dressing room might have heard him. But the girl just continued singing and practicing the high-pitched notes unaware that someone was listening to her. He held his breath when she walked to the mirror. She was a beauty with a delicate figure. Her big brown eyes were framed by wonderful, curved lashes and her curled brown hair softly fell over her shoulders. Even when he was fully aware, that she couldn't see him, he froze within his movement and barely breathed.

"Christine? Christine!", the voice yelling outside of the dressing room made him flinch and ruggedly brought them both back to reality. Christine opened the door and a blond girl with the same ballet costume, who was a little smaller, stood in front of her. "The rehearsal starts soon, and we are almost late!", she scoffed. "I'm sorry Meg, I was singing and forgot the time.", Christine answered and smiled apologetically. 'Christine' When she heard her name, she looked around a little puzzled. Did someone call her name? She questioningly looked back at Meg. But her best friend just took her hand and tagged her along, hurrying so they wouldn't be too late to the rehearsal. Madam Giry would surely punish them if they were. The Phantoms heart pounded as if it were about to jump out of his chest. His hand was pressed on his mouth, while he scolded himself for being so incautious.

He was all about scurrying back into the catacombs when his curiosity stopped him. Hesitantly he turned around and stepped through the mirror into the dressing room, which was now occupied by Miss Christine DaaƩ, as he read on the door, he walked through. Within the tumult of the rehearsal no one really recognized him, so he could make his way backstage without any incidents. Everyone was busy with themselves. He climbed up the scaffold and caught a glimpse of the brown-haired beauty he had heard singing in her dressing room. Now she was dancing, gracile and beautiful. For sure she would get a permanent position in the Opera Populaire. Miss Giry seemed to be very content with her and Meg and Monsieur Lefevre looked very impressed on her skills. Christine looked like an angel.

After the rehearsal Christine and Meg indeed got their deserved permanent positions at the Opera Populaire. "This needs to be celebrated. Go and change quick!", Meg went, but Christine stopped her. "Madam Giry told me to practice singing. But tomorrow we will celebrate together, I promise.", Christine answered and hugged her friend, whispering "You did very well, I'm proud of you." Then she went back to her dressing room. He was already waiting for her behind the mirror, humming a gentle melody. She looked around to find the person the voice belonged to but couldn't see anyone. But the melody was as tender and beautiful as if it weren't from earth. Christine thought of the fairy tale her father told her. That the angel of music would protect and guide those with talent and that he would pray, that the angel would also come to her.

The girl gathered all her courage in a deep breath. "Is there someone?", she asked, looking around. The melody faded at once. There was a little break before the angel dared to answer. "My apologies my child. Don't threat, I mean no harm. Your beautiful singing voice just called to me.", he said in a tremulous yet tender voice, almost as soft as silk. Christine now lost her fear, yet her heart skipped a beat at the compliment. "Are you the angel of music?", she asked him hopefully. It went silent again, as the Phantom thought of what to say. Yes, he had fallen, but technically he was still an angel. Even when his wings had been burned to black, he couldn't possibly disappoint this big brown eyes. "Yes, I am an angel.", He answered solemnly. He gave her a little time to understand, what he just said, before he continued. "Your voice is beautiful, and your singing is good. Yet you still need to practice. I can help you to push your own voice to the best. I can be your teacher if you want." Christine's eves widened at the words of the angel. She now had located his voice behind the mirror. "Show yourself to me.", she demanded. She had been terribly lonely all this time.

"I can't", the angel said in a trembling voice "at least not yet." Christine recognized the fear within his voice and nodded. She couldn't hear it, bur behind the mirror he was taking a very deep breath, trying to calm the many feelings that fought within him now. For the first time he felt the urge to show himself to a human. But what would she think of him? She was merely 16, For sure she would run off in fear like all the others. No, for now it was for the better, if she wasn't confronted with the horrid distortion of his face. He clenched his fist in the bittersweet storm of feelings. "Angel are you still there?", Christine asked and gently pulled him back into reality. "Yes, but for tonight, you should give your voice the rest it needs. Go now. I will be back tomorrow at noon. I must go now. Goodbye Christine, my angel.", He merely whispered the last words, before he descended back down into the catacombs.

Christine blushed and her heart hammered against her chest, while she tried to sort out her thoughts. All she could grab in that moment was, that the angel was going to teach her and that she would never be lonely again. She changed her mind as the angel said, she should give her voice a break and decided to celebrate the Permanent Position she got at the Opera Populaire, with Meg. Five minutes later she had changed and begged Meg to go out with her. "What made you change your mind?", her best friend asked her sceptically. Christine took a careful look around, before she whispered, "I've been visited by the angel of Music, he spoke to me." Meg looked at her disbelieving. But then Meg remembered how her mother told her of the Phantom who indeed had a voice gentle and tender as if an angel would speak to you. "You need to tell me all about it", Meg said with sparkling eyes and tagged her best friend along.

Back down in his catacombs he decided to go easy on Carlotta, who had stopped singing by now anyway. In his mind he still heard Christine's voice, so soft and tender, it warmed his heart. He lied down on his bed, closed his eyes, and let his soul float in this sensation. The mere memory of her sight made him slightly tremble all over his body. Her name quietly made its way over his lips while he softly fell asleep.