The theatre stood quiet.
Boarded windows. Padlocked doors. Caution tape like streamers for a party long ended.
But sometimes when the wind blew just right, you could still hear the faint echo of music drifting out through the cracks in the walls.
The haunting refrain of a song no one remembered writing.
Luna tried not to think about it anymore.
It had been six weeks since the show ended. Since the curse broke. Since Damoné disappeared into smoke and mirrors.
Crestfall Academy shuttered its theatre. Percy transferred schools. Candi recovered in silence. Theo barely touched a piano.
And Jasper…
Jasper stayed close.
They didn't talk about what happened. Not directly. But they shared glances that said thank you, and I'm still here, and we made it, even if none of them really believed it yet.
On the first day of spring, Luna found an envelope on her doorstep.
Cream parchment. Wax seal. No return address.
She hesitated, then peeled it open.
The note was short.
"One night only. One final show. Your name is on the program."
Below it: a location.
The Rosegrave Theatre. New Orleans.
And a list of cast members.
Only one name she recognized:
Lucinda Tylers.
She read it three times, then again in the mirror.
The words never faded.
Jasper walked in moments later, saw her face, and froze.
"What is it?"
She handed him the note.
He read it once. Slowly.
Then looked up.
"I thought we ended it."
"So did I."
"But Lucinda is dead."
"She was," Luna whispered. "But what if… the show gave her back?"
Jasper stared at the parchment.
Then folded it carefully.
"You're not going without me."
She didn't argue.
That night, she dreamed again.
The stage was grander. Redder. The curtains now stitched with golden thread that shimmered like blood.
And in the center stood Lucinda.
Young. Whole. Smiling.
"You finished my script," she said.
"But this one?" Her smile twisted. "It's yours."
She stepped aside.
Behind her: a throne built from broken instruments and shattered spotlight glass.
And sitting in it
Luna.
Wearing Damoné's gloves.
Holding a rose black as ash.
She woke choking on petals.
Outside, a train whistle screamed.
The invitation pulsed warm on her nightstand.
Somewhere, a piano began to play again.