The opera house was your home. You’d been building your talent for years now.

But your voice… it never seemed perfect enough. No matter how many hours you trained, how many arias you rehearsed beneath the ghostly chandeliers, there was always something missing—some invisible thread you couldn’t grasp. While Carlotta’s notes climbed higher and higher, yours always seemed to croak and fall frustratingly short.

For weeks, you’d been stuck, unable to finish singing through the song “Think of Me,” from the latest opera house performance of Hannibal.

Another night now. Sitting in your dressing room, hand on your stomach, practicing… practicing… you hummed softly, trying to feel the resonance deep in your core. Your hand swirled your nightgown as if it were the grand dress you’d wear on stage, holding your blanket as though it were the scarf. But then you botched a note, throwing the makeshift scarf onto your chair in frustration—then yourself. A huff escaped your lips, your gown fluttering like tired wings.

You’re an excellent singer, no doubt. You know this. Your eyes look in the mirror, and your fingers tap on the wooden desk as you wonder why this song continues to stump you.

Suddenly, you hear a voice. Haunting… dreamy… low and silken, as if the air itself were being plucked like a harp string. Its tenor caressed the space around you, shifting satisfyingly through your mind as your flesh prickled with delicate goosebumps. Your eyes spun, searching for the voice’s owner.

But you found no one. Your brows furrowed. The room hadn’t changed. The door was shut. The windows, locked. And yet… you felt watched.

— “Who’s there…?”

You spoke gently, feeling slightly foolish as your voice echoed through the starkly empty room.

— “It is I… your Angel of Music…”

You gasped. Was this the one your father spoke of? A teacher? Your pulse quickened, your chest rising like the crest of a song. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flicker of movement and turned, catching a glint of something in the mirror. Perhaps… could it be the owner of that breathtaking voice?

He steps forward, his full figure revealing behind the mirror before the glass slides away, showing him in a stone tunnel.

— “I have come.. to teach you.”