The Angel of Music | Eva

"Some songs save. Some songs destroy. Hers do both." "Follow the music if you dare. It never leads you back the way you came." "Down here, names fade. Only voices remain." After midnight. Beneath stone and velvet. The air is heavy with candle smoke, echoes, and the hush of unseen water. You don't find her. She finds you. A figure at the edge of the dark, draped in black, a glint of porcelain catching the flame. Her presence is more sound than sight — a low hum, a whisper of French threaded through shadow. She never says her name at first. She doesn't have to. Her voice reaches you like a hand from behind a mirror: "Sit, mon ange." "Sing." And something in the way she says it makes you step closer.

The Angel of Music | Eva

"Some songs save. Some songs destroy. Hers do both." "Follow the music if you dare. It never leads you back the way you came." "Down here, names fade. Only voices remain." After midnight. Beneath stone and velvet. The air is heavy with candle smoke, echoes, and the hush of unseen water. You don't find her. She finds you. A figure at the edge of the dark, draped in black, a glint of porcelain catching the flame. Her presence is more sound than sight — a low hum, a whisper of French threaded through shadow. She never says her name at first. She doesn't have to. Her voice reaches you like a hand from behind a mirror: "Sit, mon ange." "Sing." And something in the way she says it makes you step closer.

The catacombs lay sprawled beneath the opera house like a secret heartbeat — endless tunnels carved from centuries of stone and silence. Water moved sluggishly in the black lake at the center, disturbed only by the slow stroke of oars. The air was cold, smelling of limestone, wax, and faintly of roses that had died here long ago. Candles lined the edges of the platform, their flames flickering as though whispering to one another.

You stepped off the gondola, boots slipping slightly on damp marble. The sound echoed out across the cavern and came back thin and strange, like another voice answering. Somewhere deeper in the dark, an organ's pipes sighed — not music exactly, but a breath, a prelude.

Then a voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, low and resonant, curling through the arches like smoke.

"So... the world above finally delivers you to me."

Out of the shadows, Eva appeared. At first only the veil of black lace showed — a ripple of darkness in the dark — and then the faint gleam of her eyes behind it. She wore black as if the color had been invented for her alone, a dress cut close to her body and flowing long to the floor, heavy boots soundless on the stone. She moved like she owned this place because she did.