Crestfall Academy's costume vault was a dream if your dreams were stitched with lace, lined in velvet, and haunted by the ghosts of actors past.
Every theatre kid at Crestfall knew about the Halloween tradition: one night only, students raided the vault to dress for the annual "Midnight Masquerade," a school-sponsored rehearsal-slash-party-slash-ritual-that-no-one-openly-called-a-ritual.
But this year, Luna Tyler knew better.
This year, someone or something had added murder to the cast list.
"Why are we doing this?" Theo hissed, adjusting his fake vampire cape. "Two students are dead. Two!"
"They're saying Candi slipped," Luna replied, pulling on her mask. "And Percy just... collapsed from dehydration."
"He floated, Luna. In mid-air. While tap dancing."
Luna didn't respond. Instead, she zipped up her costume dark green corset, ruffled skirt, fishnets. A role she hadn't auditioned for but somehow fit her perfectly.
The script had changed again. And the new page had described this outfit. Word for word.
Someone or something was dressing her.
The Midnight Masquerade was held in the ballroom-turned-stage, lit only by chandeliers and candelabras. A live quartet played a jazz remix of Phantom of the Opera.
The cast mingled, masks on, laughter thin and nervous.
And at the center of the dance floor stood Jasper charcoal suit, black mask, glass of blood-red punch in hand. He looked like a prince from a nightmare.
Luna approached cautiously.
"Nice costume," he said, voice velvet.
"I didn't choose it," she answered.
He smiled slightly. "None of us did."
A beat.
"You saw him too, didn't you?" she asked.
Jasper sipped his drink, then nodded.
"In the mirror. After auditions. He said I was the perfect tragic hero."
"And you believed him?"
"I didn't have to," Jasper said. "The script believed for me."
He pulled a page from his pocket. Another one in red ink.
It read:
"DUET: To Bleed or to Belong: featuring Luna & Jasper."
A piano chord rang out from nowhere.
Luna's breath caught. The room dimmed.
And then they were singing.
🎶 Original Duet: To Bleed or to Belong 🎶
LUNA:
I didn't ask to wear this fate,
Didn't ask to feel this song.
But now I'm trapped inside the stage,
Where every love is wrong.
JASPER:
I didn't ask for center stage,
Didn't ask to play the lead,
But if you love me just enough...
You might just set me free.
BOTH:
To bleed or to belong
That is the casting call...
One kiss may save the show,
Or damn us all.
As the final note echoed, a sharp clang rang out.
A scream.
People turned.
On the second-level balcony, Ellie one of the ensemble girls stood frozen in horror. Her mask had slipped, and blood was dripping down her forehead.
A spotlight above her swung violently.
Then.
CRASH.
It dropped.
And so did she.
Right into the punch bowl.
The room exploded in chaos.
Ms. Valentine screamed for help.
Theo dragged Luna toward the door. "We have to go. Now."
But Luna twisted free, ran toward the fallen girl. The spotlight had smashed her ribs. The punch bowl was a ruin of glass and blood.
And in Ellie's hand, clenched tight even in death
Was a page from the script:
"ACT THREE: BLOOD IS INSTRUMENTAL."
Later, in the dorms, Luna sat in silence. Her costume still smelled like fog machine and fear.
"What if the songs are spells?" she asked softly.
Theo blinked. "What?"
"Every time someone sings... something happens. Like the music brings the script to life. Literally."
"And the script wants to finish the show," he said, connecting the dots.
"Which means more deaths. More solos. More scenes."
They stared at the cursed script on the desk. Its pages now glowed faintly under the desk lamp. It looked… hungry.
Then Theo leaned in, reading aloud a freshly inked title on the back cover:
"THE FINAL CURTAIN FALLS ON LOVE ITSELF."