The Phantom's Legacy

Chapter 6: Turn of the Tide

Raoul's POV

I sat alone in my study, bills and letters strewn about my writing desk and a shot of scotch in my hand. The room's curtains were drawn, casting the study in a dark shadow, save for the fireplace and the lamps lighting the room in a dull glow. I take a sip of my drink as I contemplated what had happened this evening.

I had a feeling that the monster that had taken my wife was still alive. I just didn't expect him to still be under the catacombs, much less married with children.

One of which was currently engaged to my son.

I shuddered with horror at the concept.

Not only was she the daughter of my worst enemy, but she was a mixed child. A mullato girl as some of my American business partners would say. Although, she seems like a polite, mild-mannered woman, possibly due to her mother, her parentage is more than a problem.

His wife was a tad too exotic for my taste, and the notion that a member of our race (even one so monstrous as the Opera Ghost) would muddle their blood by a race that was known to be a bit savage still left a bad taste in my mouth, but she seemed civilized enough and our disdain was not with her. I know Christine was possibly still afraid of the thing that had taken her all those years ago, but we were sure that he was dead after we had escaped, and the mob had raided his lair.

I felt my skin crawl as I remembered being in his lair all those years ago, clutching my throat as if his lasso was still tightly around my neck. 

But none of that mattered now. 

I must find a way to protect my family from him. If he even thinks about trying to claim my Christine as his, I will see to it that he perishes. Even if that means a wife and children have to suffer. 

But how? 

Unknown POV

The waves of the ocean are an unpredictable force of nature, as are the sands of the desert or the shade of the forest. However, unlike the land, the sea gave the threat of obscurity. If you were to perish on land, you had a chance to be found, but out here, with the ocean all that you can see, one fall over the edge and you disappear forever, not one ounce of you returning, as if you never existed. Such a fate is one that I would not wish on my worst enemy.

Well, none except for one.

It has been decades since I last saw the man who escaped my land and entertained my mother and the palace court.

An exceptional magician, a genius architect.

A deadly assassin.

Erik, the one who created the greatest palace that Mazenderan had ever seen.

The ONLY greatest palace that should have been seen since, but because of the treachery of one of my own police officers, he had escaped, now able to replicate or create something better than my home. I had wanted him executed, the knowledge of my palace and his genius dying with him as no one would be able to surpass the beauty and might of my kingdom. When it was discovered that he had vanished into the night, I had hoped that the desert would claim him. When his body was not found between the desert and the sea, I had hoped that a storm would do the job for me, rendering his ship to shreds, him sinking into the depths of the ocean floor.

After hearing nothing of him for years, I resigned myself to this knowledge that the Angel of Death was gone and continued my reign. My mother, the Khanum grew old and died in her sleep, leaving me to finally have complete control of the country instead of her always breathing down my neck. But my anger towards my executioner never waned but waxed greater as the years passed by. Yet, I knew that I would never hear from him again, resigning his fate to the waves below. 

That was until I had decided to leave my country on holiday. 

I had made my way to Paris for a "diplomatic event" and was brought to the Opera Garnier to watch a brand-new opera with the elite of Parisan society. Apparently, it was a last-minute addition to their season written by a new, mysterious composer and one of the main stars was a rather up-and-coming ingenue that had the voice of an angel.  However, as I sat in my box and the opera continued on, I noticed that not only the voice of this "Don Juan" character had changed, but also that his voice was familiar. Too familiar, in fact.

I had chalked it up to being a coincidence. Surely, I was just hearing things. But then the cloaked figure had his hood removed.

The Angel of Death was still alive. 

But before I could voice my outrage, he had set the Opera House on fire and I along with the rest of the patrons were evacuated out of the burning building. I don't remember much of the details of what happened that night as I and the rest of the elite who were invited to this performance were being interviewed by the police, but my focus was on the young couple that had just emerged from the bowels of the burning building and the mob that followed after them, holding his mask.

I returned home, certain that if the fire hadn't taken the elusive beast, then the mob did. But once again I was proven wrong. 

I stepped off of the boat as my servants collected my things from the dock and one of them handed me the newspaper. I felt the blood in my veins boil as his masked face was presented, a smirk etched on his lips. 

It was as if he was mocking me from the page, taunting that he had bested me. 

I nearly tore the paper in my anger before looking at the picture again. Right next to him stood a beautiful woman, her skin as dark as the trunks of palm trees and a visible wedding ring on her finger, her arm draped over his. 

An idea began to form in my head as I gave a slight chuckle. 

"It looks as if my executioner has made a life for himself, doesn't it? Well, we will see how much longer it will last. Finally, I can assure that your genius ends once and for all. And I will make you destroy everything you love as compensation for your insolence all those years ago." 

I threw away my newspaper in the trash as a carriage arrived to deliver me to my hotel room. Tomorrow, I begin my vengeance and I will return to Persia with his head to mount on my palace wall. 

A/N: Hello my fellow Phantom Phans! How's life been treating y'all? 

Thank you guys for the 3.22k reads, 199 votes, and all of your comments so far. 

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Well, it seems that the Vicomte wasn't the only one hoping our masked hero was dead and gone.

Who's mystery man? What's he planning?  And what would this mean for the Destler family? 

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