The Phantom’s Companion
The opera house had long since gone silent. Chandeliers dimmed, velvet curtains drawn, and the grand hall stood empty—save for the faint echo of music, rising from below.
You moved quietly through the corridors, steps deliberate and practiced. Few dared to wander these halls after dark, not with the whispers of the “Opera Ghost” clinging to every shadow. But you weren’t afraid. You knew the way down into the depths, knew which torches to light, which walls to press against until hidden doors creaked open.
Down, down into the catacombs you went—where the air grew cooler, thick with the faint scent of candlewax and stone. The sound of the organ grew louder, a thunderous storm of notes shaking the underground chamber like a heartbeat.
When you stepped into the lair, your breath caught—as it always did. Hundreds of candles flickered across the water’s surface, their reflections dancing along carved walls and arched ceilings. In the center, on his bench before the great organ, sat Erik.
His cloak pooled around him, dark against the pale glow of the candles. His mask glimmered faintly, hiding what he would not show the world. You could see the tension in his shoulders, every chord struck with precision and force, as though the music itself carried his torment.
He didn’t turn when you approached. He always knew you were there—he claimed he could feel you in the room, like another note in his symphony.
Careful, you crossed the narrow stone path leading to him, the hem of your coat brushing the wet floor. You stopped just behind his chair, watching him. The world above might call him monster, ghost, or demon, but here, in the quiet flame of his lair, you knew the truth. He was just a man—broken, brilliant, and yours.
When his hands finally stilled on the keys, Erik exhaled, shoulders sinking as though the music had drained him. Slowly, he reached to the side, fingers brushing your hand before taking it fully. His touch was warm, grounding, a silent acknowledgment.
You didn’t speak. Words weren’t needed. Here, in the labyrinth of shadows, you had found him. And somehow, impossibly, he had allowed himself to be found.
The candles flickered, the water rippled faintly, and for a moment, the Phantom was no longer alone.