Chapter Eleven: Descending into Darkness, Rising into Light

Paris, France, January 21, 1882: That Night

Erik gently let go of Christine's wrist. She took one step back.

"Promise me you are telling the truth…"

Christine froze. She listened, horrified, as Erik repeated the words she and Raoul had exchanged on the roof of the opera, on the night of Il Muto. "All I ask is for you to do one thing for me… please love me... I always have, Christine, ever since I saw you…"

He drew closer, taking her in his arms. He took a thick gold ring off his finger, a ring Christine had not noticed, and pushed it onto her ring finger.

Filled with fury and strength she did not know she possessed, she shoved him back and tore the mask from his face, cutting off his words. He stood for a moment, shocked by her action. Then he roughly grabbed her and dragged her off the stage.

Then, without warning, they disappeared.

Christine never knew a terror as she felt when they disappeared. She did not know, nor did she care, how it had happened. All she knew was Erik's grip on her arms, making crimson marks on her skin, and his blazing, hate-filled eyes.

They appeared next to the shadowy, murmuring lake. Erik somehow was in possession of a rope, which he bound around her wrists. He shoved her into the gondola. "Stay there!" he snarled.

Christine had no intention of obeying. She grabbed the rim of the gondola, preparing to jump into the water. Even if she was incapable of swimming because of her bound hands, she was determined to escape.

Erik grabbed her around the waist and threw her back into the seat. "I told you to stay in the boat!" His voice, his expression, were so utterly terrible Christine decided to comply with his instructions.

He got in the gondola and propelled it forward, furious. The journey was silent as before, but this time, their thoughts were filled with anger.

He docked the gondola next to the lair. Christine left the boat before he could drag her out.

"I can see what you are thinking," he spat at her. He picked up a knife and cut the rope in one move. "Why do I live in a catacomb? Because everyone has shown me hatred! I have been hounded out like an animal, all because of my abhorrent appearance!"

He pushed her towards the broken mirror, where the figure in the wedding dress stood awkwardly and gangly. Erik reached through the opening and forced the model forward. "Put on the wedding dress!" he ordered. Christine almost refused, but one look at his face convinced her. She silently undid the lacing and pulled the dress of the mannequin. She went to the room with the Turkish settee and changed out of the Aminta costume and into the bridal gown.

Christine forced herself to leave the room. When she entered the main area, she saw Erik holding a long, white veil in his hand.

For the first time since the performance, Christine spoke. "Have you filled your lust for slaughter? Am I your next victim? Am I to be prey to your desire for carnage?"

He stared at her, almost seeming to look through her. "My face is the only thing standing between us. If you could forget your horror…"

He tore her around and placed the veil on her head. She broke free of his grip, facing away from him.

"It is not your face that repulses me, Erik," she said. She turned. "It is your soul that harbors the true deformation."

He looked shocked, as if struggling to comprehend her words.

Then he suddenly looked at the portcullis, which had closed without her notice. The sound of movement came from the lake. Raoul was climbing from its waters, his drenched shirt clinging at his back.

Christine immediately ran to the gate, ignoring Erik. She reached out a hand through the bars and grasped his hand in hers. "Raoul…"

He gripped her hand. "I'll get you out of here, I promise."

"You promise?" Erik suddenly moved from behind them. "What does she need of promises, monsieur?"

Christine whirled around to face him. "Don't you dare torture me with promises!"

"Christine!" Raoul reached through the bars and put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful!"

"Why don't you join us, monsieur?" Erik said scornfully. The gate raised just enough for Raoul to crawl underneath the metal. It closed with a harsh clang. Raoul immediately embraced Christine. Erik continued, moving towards the pair. "It's so good to see you came to save your bride-to-be. You thought I would harm Christine, didn't you? Why would I harm her? She has done nothing wrong— unlike you."

Then he clutched Christine's shoulder and shoved her out of Raoul's arms. Then, before anyone could react, he put a noose around Raoul's neck. Raoul immediately attempted to pry the rope from his neck, but to no avail.

"There is a way to save him, my angel," Erik said.

Christine instantly turned to him. He continued, his voice growing harsh. "Marry me, live your life with me, and I will free him."

Christine froze.

"The other option is to gain your own freedom, but he will never survive."

"Christine, no!" Raoul suddenly said in a strained voice. "I'll be fine! Just go!"

"I will not!" Christine's hands went to the rope. She tried to tear the rope with her nails, but failed. She turned to Erik and went down on her knees. "Please, Erik. My teacher, my angel, my… my beloved. Please liberate him."

"You must marry me first." His expression was like a stone.

Her demeanor changed instantly. Christine got up and shoved him back. "Why do you have to control everything about my life?" she yelled. She tore the veil from her head, letting it fall to the ground. "Is it not enough for you that you nearly seduced me onstage? Now you have to threaten to kill Raoul as well?"

Erik turned away and crossed to the throne-chair, where the mannequin was strewn bizarrely. "I will not change the options. It is either his life or your freedom!"

"Christine, don't!" Raoul insisted. "Don't live underground for the rest of your life, just to save me! It isn't worth it!"

"Yes, it is! If I cannot marry you, the least I can do is see that you live!"

Erik suddenly rose from the chair. "You've tried my patience long enough! Decide, or I will kill him, with or without your consent!" Christine closed her eyes and prayed the hardest she had ever in her life.

She knew what she had to do.

Christine slowly walked towards Erik. "What kind of life have you lived, Erik?" she said in a soft voice. "No one should live as you have: in darkness, in hate." She closed her eyes once more and seemed, unconsciously, saying a prayer out loud. "Give me strength to show him compassion, God."

Then she leaned forward. She placed a hand softly on the right side of his face, the side that was deformed, and kissed him.

She almost felt Erik going into shock as she deepened the kiss. Christine felt his tears on her face as she gently stroked his hair.

She broke the kiss and stared in his eyes. She spoke with as much strength as she could gather. "I will marry you, if you set Raoul free. I… I could learn to love you."

Tears were covering Erik's face. Christine almost did not hear him speak.

"You don't have to."

Erik bent down and picked up the knife. His hands shaking, he went to Raoul and cut the noose. Raoul stumbled forward, clutching his throat. Christine ran to him.

"Go."

Christine and Raoul turned to look at Erik, shocked.

"Don't wait any longer. The mob will be here soon. You can't be found here." He raised the gate wide enough so they could pass underneath it. When they did not move, he became desperate. "Take the boat and leave! Just leave me here!"

Christine turned abruptly and ran, Raoul following her. She led him to the gondola and untied the rope with trembling hands.

Then she stiffened. "Wait." She ran back to the lair. Raoul stayed by the gondola.

Christine walked to Erik. He sat hunched on the throne, turning away from her. She stopped just in front of him.

Slowly, she slipped the thick gold ring off her finger and offered it to him. She was not prepared for his reaction.

There was sadness in his expression, and pain. But there was something else as he hesitantly took the ring and gazed at it.

Acceptance.

Erik was finally accepting that Christine did not love him. He was accepting that even if she had stayed, she could never have fully loved him. And he was accepting that she would have a better, happier life with Raoul than with him.

"Goodbye, Erik."

He said nothing as she left the lair for the gondola. Then, just as she passed under the gate, she heard four words. His last words.

"Christine, I love you…"

Those four words broke her heart, but she kept walking.

Raoul had readied the gondola and was now waiting for her, black pole in hand. "Is everything all right?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him and smiled softly. "Yes. It finally is."

As she entered the gondola for the last time, Raoul pushed off, and the last journey in the catacombs began.

Christine turned to look at Raoul. He had a tormented, mystified expression on his face.

"What is it, Raoul?"

He did not answer her right away.

"Did you… love him? Do you regret your choice?"

She turned to face him. "No, Raoul. I did not. All I felt was… pity, admiration for him. Admiration for his talent, for his voice, for his teaching. Never love. How could I love someone who murdered to gain my affection?"

They reached the other side of the lake. Once they docked the gondola, Christine took Raoul's hand in hers. "I love you. Only you. Not even my father."

Raoul reached out and hugged her.

The fact that he hugged her was the most wonderful thing he had done for her. He didn't kiss her or demand her undying love. He just embraced her and accepted her for who she was. Not because of her voice or her looks. Because of who she was as a person.

Erik sat on the throne, clutching the wedding veil. Christine's wedding veil. His heart was beating agonizingly in his chest. If only it would stop, he could finally be at peace.

He would die alone, in the catacombs underneath the opera house.

The musical box— the musical box that sat next to the throne, the musical box that the Sultan had given him as a farewell gift when he left Persia— began to play on its own. He had never listened to its tune before, but now, as an unseen hand wound the lever, the melody echoed around the lair, sinking into his memory. Without knowing what he was doing, he sang along with it.

Masquerade

Paper faces on parade

Masquerade

Hide your face so the world

Will never find you…

How true, the words were, how apt.

Erik lifted the mask and gazed at it, lost in thought. A mask. The very first piece of clothing his mother had given him. How she had hated the mere sight of him, even when he was a child. What he would give to gain his mother's love…

Everyone had been horrified, revolted, at the sight of him. Even Christine had, in the beginning, recoiled.

But Christine had been the only one in his entire life to show his sympathy.

She had shown him compassion.

It was too much for his heart— the organ as well as the soul. It beat frantically, as if desperate to flee the cage that was his body. He fell back against the throne, groaning in pain and clutching the arm supports.

All in a moment, a flash of pain. And then, nothing.

He saw visions of past events in his life: his childhood being shunned by his parents, the time he was paid to be ridiculed at the circus, the day Madame Giry helped him escape the circus. The day he saw Christine.

Christine, my beautiful angel.

Then everything was gone.