It started with a ping.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
Cassian's phone lit up like a storm.
Notifications. Mentions. Tags.
Someone had leaked the footage.
Not just Ava's.
Not just the theater.
Everything.
The mirror room.
The masked dancer.
The control room.
The final act.
Elián stared at the trending tag:
#TheArchivistFiles
Clips were everywhere.
People thought it was performance art.
A viral campaign.
Some thought it was fake.
Others weren't so sure.
One comment read:
"I saw her. Ava. She danced at my school. Last week."
Another:
"That's my sister in the mirror. She's been missing for months."
Cassian was spiraling.
"This is my fault," he said. "I opened the door."
Elián shook his head. "No. You filmed it. But someone else pressed play."
They returned to the studio.
Vivienne was gone.
So was the wall of monitors.
Wiped clean.
But on the floor: a single flash drive.
Cassian plugged it in.
One file.
"Finale_script.pdf"
Inside: a new performance.
Written for two.
Titled: The Resurrection of Ava Vale
Scene One: The Return
Scene Two: The Betrayal
Scene Three: The Fire
Scene Four: The Choice
Scene Five: The Curtain Falls
Elián looked at Cassian.
"We're not in a story anymore," he said.
Cassian met his eyes.
"No," he said. "We are the story."
That night, Elián stood on the rooftop.
Camera in hand.
He hit record.
And spoke.
"You've seen the footage.You've heard the whispers. Now hear the truth. My name is Elián. And I'm taking the stage back."