Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera.

Prologue

The ship sailed beneath a sky with no moon or stars. Her name was the Angel. She was unusual in that her captain was a woman.

Christine Daaé, the captain in question, stood at the railing. She hadn't been able to sleep that night. When the ship's gentle rocking had been unable to soothe her, she had given up tossing and turning and come up on deck. The cold air did nothing to relax Christine, but it was better than lying awake in her cabin.

A light flickered in the distance.

What was that?

The light flickered again, then a ship came into view, sailing just up ahead of the Angel.

Christine gripped the railing. She was fairly certain ships weren't supposed to appear out of nowhere, much less shimmer.

You're dreaming. This is a dream. It has to be.

Dream or no, curiosity won over terror, and Christine got out her spyglass for a closer look. The entire ship glowed a ghostly silver. It was larger than the Angel and looked like a merchant vessel. She would have found it a splendid ship, if not for that eerie, spectral gleam. As quickly as it had appeared, the strange ship vanished.

Christine shivered, and not from the cold. What just happened? Where did that ship come from? Why was it glowing? Was it a ghost ship, like the ones in the stories Father told me? Did I really just see a…ghost?

She pinched herself. Yes, she was awake. What was this, then, if not a dream? Whatever it was, she suddenly didn't want to be on deck any longer.

Christine hurried back into her cabin and slipped into bed, listening to the frantic pounding of her heart. What had she just seen?

Ships didn't come out of nowhere, then disappear. And they definitely didn't glow...at least, ships made by human hands didn't.

Don't be silly, Christine. Those were just stories. They could never really happen.

But what other explanation was there?

If the lookouts saw anything unusual, they would have reported it. I won't say anything to anyone. They'll think I'm mad. And they might be right.

Christine yawned. Her blankets seemed wonderfully warm and comforting after the icy night air. She was tired, so very tired. Her mind had probably just been playing tricks on her, making her see things that weren't there. It wasn't long before Christine drifted off to sleep, her dreams haunted by silver lights.