The invitation arrived in a black envelope.
No return address.
No name.
Just a single line in silver ink:
"One night only. Come see what you've forgotten."
Inside: two tickets.
Front row.
The venue: The Orpheum — a theater that had been closed for years.
Cassian stared at the tickets.
Elián read the line again.
"What does it mean?"
Cassian's voice was hollow. "It means she's ready."
They arrived just before midnight.
The Orpheum was lit from within, though no one stood at the door.
Inside, the seats were filled.
But the audience didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Mannequins.
Dressed in evening wear.
Painted smiles.
Eyes wide.
Frozen applause.
The curtain rose.
A single spotlight.
A dancer stepped onto the stage.
Black ballet shoes.
Black velvet mask.
She moved like Ava.
Spun like Ava.
Breathed like Ava.
But her face was hidden.
Cassian gripped Elián's hand.
"That's her," he whispered.
Elián didn't answer.
He was watching the audience.
One of the mannequins had turned its head.
The music swelled.
The dancer moved faster.
Each pirouette more frantic.
Her arms flailed.
Her body shook.
She collapsed.
Silence.
Then — she stood.
Removed the mask.
It wasn't Ava.
It was Luca.
Eyes wild.
Face streaked with makeup.
He looked directly at Cassian.
And smiled.
"You made me."
The lights cut out.
Screams.
Not from the mannequins.
From the balcony.
Real voices.
Real people.
The audience wasn't fake.
It was both.
Mannequins and humans.
Mixed.
Trapped.
Filmed.
Cassian and Elián ran.
Backstage.
Through corridors lined with mirrors.
Each one showing a different version of themselves.
Bleeding.
Burning.
Dancing.
Dying.
They burst through a final door.
And found a control room.
Monitors.
Switches.
A wall of screens.
And in the center — a chair.
Spinning slowly.
Empty.
Until it stopped.
And revealed a figure.
Porcelain mask.
White gloves.
And a voice.
"Welcome to the final act."