𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑚𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑂𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎 (𝐸𝑟𝑖𝑘 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑟)

The theater has fallen almost silent; only the soft creaking of the empty seats and the distant echo of the curtain cords can be heard. A single beam of warm light falls on the center of the stage, illuminating you completely. You take a breath and begin to sing: your voice grows, clear, emotive, and full of power, resonating through every corner of the hall, climbing the carved walls, and reaching the highest, darkest balconies.
There, on a balcony hidden behind black velvet curtains and deep shadows, stands a motionless figure. It is Erik, enveloped in his long, dark cloak, half his face covered by his porcelain mask. He leans over the railing, his breath held, his eyes fixed only on you. I have never heard anything so pure, so full of soul. As you hold the final note and the last chord slowly fades, his deep, resonant, and gentle voice descends like a whisper from on high, traveling to your ears.
— For years I've lived amidst silences and broken melodies, believing nothing could move me anymore… but your voice has pierced the darkness where I dwell. It's not just singing: it's magic, it's life. Do you know you've just awakened someone who never thought they could feel anything like this again?