Mom you don't have to bring me there, am no longer a child.
How did you love this school so much Luna? Luna's mom asked.
Mom have always wanted to be a musical student. And you see how they have being coming first in all musical competitions with other schools.
Alright go and finish up with packing your stuffs you are living early you know that. Luna's mom said..
The first thing Luna Tyler noticed about Crestfall Academy was how it didn't look like a school. It looked like a haunted mansion with a theatre addiction.
Gargoyles perched on every ledge like gossiping old critics. Ivy clung to the grey stone like it had nowhere else to be. Above the giant archway that crowned the entryway, bold iron letters spelled out the school's motto: "All the world is a stage."
It wasn't exactly comforting.
Lina stood with one boot over the cracked stone threshold, headphones in, backpack slung over one shoulder, and a throat full of nerves. This was her fresh start new school, new city, new everything. She'd come to Crestfall to study what she loved: musical theatre. But even with all the charm of a Broadway boarding school, something about this place felt… off.
Maybe it was the fog that clung to the quad like stage smoke. Or maybe it was the way her mom had warned her. Don't get too caught up in drama, Luna. Drama eats people alive.
She stepped inside anyway.
By noon, she was seated in the main theatre an enormous space with velvet curtains and chandeliers shaped like teardrops. Half the senior class buzzed around her, all glitter and egos and leather-bound playbooks.
A boy with perfectly tousled hair, a mesh shirt, and the vibe of a caffeinated peacock strutted onto the stage.
"Welcome, babies of Broadway!" he boomed. "I'm Percy, your choreographer, spirit guide, and eternal drama queen. Today, we choose our fall musical and trust me, it'll be to die for."
The students cheered like this was the Tony Awards.
Luna slouched into her seat. She'd barely been here an hour and already she felt like the understudy to her own life.
A gruff voice cut through the noise. "Calm down, divas."
Ms. Valentine late 40s, black blazer, three empty coffee cups in hand appeared with a box of dusty scripts.
"You're voting on the show today. I've pulled the usual suspects, plus a few weird ones. Choose wisely. I want blood, sweat, and standing ovations preferably not in that order."
The students swarmed the box.
Luna hung back, then noticed something strange. A separate crate sat beneath the stage steps, cracked open like a mouth.
Inside was a single script, wrapped in faded lace.
She reached down and pulled it out. The cover was worn, but the title shimmered faintly beneath the dust:
A chill slipped down her spine.
"What's this one?" she asked, lifting the script.
Percy's head snapped around. "Oh no no no. That one is cursed."
The crowd quieted.
"Legend says it was written in 1927," Percy continued, eyes gleaming, "but the cast died on opening night. Like, literally. Lead actress fell into the orchestra pit. Conductor got impaled by a baton. And the stage caught fire mid-ballad."
Ms. Valentine waved her hand. "Old theatre gossip. Probably a publicity stunt that backfired. Still, no one's dared perform it since."
Luna flipped through the script. Handwritten stage directions. Lyrics in crimson ink. A solo called "Love Me to Death."
"Cool," she said, and raised the script. "I vote cursed."
Cheers erupted.
The vote was unanimous.
That afternoon, the cast gathered in the blackbox theatre. Luna, Percy, Jasper (the too-handsome lead with a smirk for every syllable), Theo (a tech kid with glasses, suspenders, and a mild phobia of death), and a girl named Candi who had a voice like Ariana Grande on helium.
They sat in a circle. Theo looked like he wanted to run.
"Can we not summon anything today?" he muttered.
"Too late," Candi grinned. She opened to the first ballad. "Let's read it together!"
Luna cleared her throat. And sang.
Lyrics danced from her lips like they were written in fire.
"Take your mark and strike a pose,
Paint your love in crimson prose.
Break a leg, break a heart, break the seal
If you fake it, it'll still kill…"
Her voice carried across the room. The air shifted.
"Sing it sweet, and sing it true,
One more verse… and it's the end of you."
The lights flickered. A gust of cold air swept through the theatre. The grand piano in the corner played a single haunting note.
Everyone froze.
"Please tell me that was a sound cue," Jasper said.
"We don't have sound cues yet," Theo whispered.
The group laughed uneasily.
But Luna looked at the piano.
And the piano looked back.
That night, Candi returned to the theatre alone. She wanted to rehearse her solo.
The stage was empty. The ghost light burned.
She hit a high note. Strong. Vibrato flawless.
CRACK.
The rigging above groaned.
WHOOSH.
A spotlight snapped loose, falling fast
SPLAT.
Silence.
The ghost light flickered. Then went out.
Next morning, Luna stood behind police tape, heart hammering.
"Stage light failure," someone said. "Total freak accident."
But Luna knew better.
This was no accident. This was the opening act.
And somewhere deep in the shadows of the wings… something was waiting for its cue.