High above the seated attendees of the philharmonic, perched in the rafters sat a form. Invisible in the darkness, shrouded in black, only the white mask that covered his face was visible, and only the most perceiving of eyes would have been able to see him. But no one was looking, no one ever looked up. So Arthur hid safely in the girders and rigging of the stage.
Slowly, he recovered from the trance that he had been in, the music so etherial and pure that it had taken him away, broken his hold on reality and sent him spiraling off into the dark depths of his own mind, to places he wished to return, but not remember. He let out a long breath, then wiped a tear from his exposed eyes, the only part of his face that was visible through the mask, shocking blue highlights against the white.
"A fate and a song, bound so close together that they share the same melody..." he said, slowly, reverentially, in the hushed whisper tones of prayer.
He made to continue his prayer song, his ode to past lives and losses, but he was suddenly brought reeling from his trance by a voice.
“Perhaps you’ll find this a bit controversial, some would even label it as a blasphemy, others nonsense, a few as fantasy, but the clever ones would sit and enjoy it for this is a sole unique moment that will be carved within your memories. I present to all of you, the melody of legend. The Scarlet Nocturne!” the voice said.
Arthur stiffened.
No, he thought. No no no! Not that, anything but that!
That could not stand, that song, he couldn't allow it.
He reached around his back, and pulled a wooden mask from a bag on his shoulder. It was red, the face of a devil, its features so grotesque that it was repulsive, unbearably so, painfully so. He fumbled a moment, but quickly pulled it over his white mask and fastened the tie around the back of his head. His fingers were shaking.
They couldn't play that song.
He reached into his coat and loosened a long saber in its scabbard. Then he stood erect on the girder, and looked down. He almost dropped into the midst of the orchestra right then, but something stopped him.
Trembling and sweating, Arthur stood, and waited.
"What was that?" the Bard thought as he looked side to side. "I could have sworn I heard something" he said under his breath.
He looked up. He saw the man in the rafters. The Bard scratched he chin and snapped for his turntable. He looked over at Choro and put his finger over his mouth, shhing her. "Don't be alarmed," he whispered, "But there's a man in the rafters, and I think he has a weapon." He popped a
song into the turntable. A man appeared as the song was playing. Only he could see him. "Watch, don't kill." he told the man. The Shadow Man he like to call him, was an assassin that wrote the song a long time ago and he bought it off of an old woman a year or two ago. The man died after writing it, and some how his soul was linked to it.
The Shadow man smiled and made his way up to the rafters to find whoever was there.
