By morning, the theatre was back to normal.
No flames. No screaming ghosts. Not even a cracked spotlight.
Just the scent of old velvet, faint chalk lines on the floor, and a "Closed for Renovation" sign pinned to the entrance like a lie.
But Luna knew better.
They all did.
"I'm telling you," Theo said, slamming the library book down. "This has happened before. Every few decades same show, different names. Always a tragic love story. Always... unfinished."
Jasper leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed. "So what are we? The encore?"
"No," Luna said, staring at her fingers. "We're the rewrite."
She hadn't told them about the mirror. About Lucinda. About the message scratched into her dream:
"Only true love stops the show."
Because how could she?
When she didn't even know if she believed in love anymore.
They weren't alone for long.
At dusk, someone knocked on Luna's dorm door.
Percy.
Only… not quite.
He looked drained, pale. His eyes sunken like he hadn't slept in days.
"Percy?" she breathed.
"I was in the wings," he whispered. "When I disappeared. Damoné trapped me between scenes."
He held up a page, shaking.
It was torn from a script older than any they'd seen. Yellowed, brittle, hand-inked.
With a title at the top:
("The Contract of the Final Curtain.")
Luna snatched it gently.
It wasn't just a script. It was a deal.
Signed in blood.
Lucinda Tyler. Jasper's brother. Dozens of names, fading down a list of centuries.
Below them, is a blank line.
One left.
"The show demands twelve voices," Percy said, eyes wide. "Six love songs. Six death scenes. If all twelve are performed, the contract renews for another century."
"And if it's broken?" Theo asked.
"No more show," Percy said. "No more Damoné."
"Then we just don't finish it," Jasper said.
But Luna shook her head.
"The script writes itself. The stage builds itself. If we stop… it'll force someone else to finish."
Theo looked sick. "So what do we do?"
Luna stared at the final line.
Where her name was already beginning to write itself in blood.
That night, they returned to the theatre.
Through the stage trapdoor, into the hidden chamber Percy escaped from,a room lined with mirrors and music boxes, each playing a twisted lullaby version of their solos.
In the center: an altar.
And a final copy of the score:
(Hidden Song: The Final Curtain Falls)
Sign your name, then take your cue,
Sing your soul or split in two.
Love will save or love will scar,
The end depends on who you are...
Luna looked to the others.
"I can change the ending," she said. "I'm not like the others. I'm not just acting I'm remembering."
Theo frowned. "Remembering what?"
"My grandmother didn't die in the original cast," Luna whispered. "She escaped. Because she made a choice."
She touched the script. Her hands didn't burn this time.
She was ready.
But Damoné's voice rang out from the shadows.
"Then let me make it easier."
A spotlight exploded above them, and Candi supposedly dead was lowered by wires onto the altar. Her mouth sewn shut. Her eyes begging.
A scroll appeared in Damoné's hand:
("Scene Eleven: The Sacrifice.")
Jasper lunged. "Don't you touch her
"Too late," Damoné purred. "You wanted a climax."
He pointed at Luna.
"Finish the scene. Kiss the cursed. End the spell. Or watch her bleed."
Candi whimpered as the wires tightened.
Theo shook. "We don't have time. What's the choice, Luna?!"
Luna turned back to the altar. Her name now glowed red on the final page.
It was her love… or someone else's life.
She stepped forward, lifted her voice, and sang
🎶 Solo: Love Me to Death (Reprise) 🎶
Take my name and take my soul,
Write your truth, rewrite the role.
If I must die to end this script,
Then let my love eclipse the crypt.
Damoné screamed.
The mirrors shattered. The altar split.
Candi dropped, caught by Theo. Light burst from the piano.
And Luna fell to her knees.
The contract… burned.
One final line written in flames:
"Curtain down. Rewrite complete."
Outside, the theatre stood empty.
The ghost light returned.
No more script.
No more blood.
No more Damoné.
Just silence.
Luna opened her eyes in the morning light, still holding the last rose petal from her dream.
And beside her, Jasper sat quietly, humming the final melody.
Their hands touched.
No script. No song.
Just choice.