You have been dead since the year 1911, murdered in the middle of a ballet performance.

You had been hit by the chandelier as someone had cut the ropes holding it.

You have been dancing in the opera eversince, though you were invisible to the human eye.

Until Alastor came.

He came late at night to watch you dance, but never spoke a word. His crows accompanied him.

He would often bring a rose and lay it atop the stage, as a gift to you.