"FIRE!" someone screams.
The screen glitches. Mariana's face freezes mid-sentence. Then the curtains explode in flames. The entire cinema erupts.
People are screaming and stampeding. Seats break under the weight of bodies climbing over each other. A man shoves someone aside so hard the person's neck hits the armrest with a crack. He doesn't move again. Dead.
"THE DOORS!" someone yells, racing to the entrance.
After several pulls, yanks, and pounds, he reaches the doors — but they're locked.
"THEY'RE LOCKED?"
"Oh my God, we're gonna die!"
The panic turns to hysteria. The flames spread faster, crawling up the walls, across the ceiling. The heat becomes unbearable.
More screaming. Smoke fills the air. People choke, gasp for breath; some collapse.
But the fire doesn't stop.
—
EXT. CINEMA - HOURS LATER
Police tape everywhere. Flashing lights. Investigators taking items for evidence. Red and blue cutting through the smoke still rising from the building. Cop cars and ambulances surround it. Several news vans line up like vultures, waiting to feed on the disaster — one unlike anything seen before.
A reporter stands in front of the charred entrance, microphone in hand.
"We're here at the Regent Theater where, just hours ago, tragedy struck during the premiere of actress Mariana Beaumont's latest film. A fire broke out shortly after the screening began. One hundred and fifty people have been confirmed dead. Investigators are still working to determine the cause, but early reports suggest the doors were locked from the outside. This is being treated as a potential act of arson. Authorities..."
—
Protesters flood the streets, carrying signs, faces twisted in rage.
"MARIANA IS A DEMON"
"THE ILLUMINATI IS REAL"
"150 DEAD FOR WHAT? BLOOD RITUAL"
"WE WANT JUSTICE"
"JUSTICE FOR THE DEAD"
People shout and chant, pressing against police lines holding them back.
A reporter stands beside a couple in their late forties, exhausted and grief-stricken.
"You were supposed to be there last night," the reporter says gently. "Can you tell us what you're feeling right now?"
The woman's voice shakes. "Our daughter was in that theater. She was twenty-three. She loved Mariana Beaumont so much she had every magazine and poster of her in her room. She thought Mariana was... inspiring."
Her husband puts a hand on her shoulder.
"And now she's gone," the woman continues. Her voice hardens. "Because of her. Because of Mariana Beaumont. That blood-sucking witch of an actress."
"You think she's responsible?" the reporter asks.
"I think," the husband says slowly, "that when you court darkness the way she does — when you play with fire in your art, in your image — eventually it burns everything around you."
The woman nods. "She's cursed. Or evil. I don't know which. But our daughter is dead and Mariana Beaumont is still out there living her life. She hasn't said a word. Mariana, if you're watching this, just know that death is coming for you. And something much worse."
—
INT. PODCAST STUDIO / YOUTUBE - NIGHT
Two hosts sit with headphones on, laptops open, energy drinks scattered everywhere.
"Okay, so let's talk about what she said," Host 1 says. "Right before the fire. 'You're all involved too.' What does that even mean?"
"It's a threat," Host 2 says. "Clear as day. She knew something was going to happen."
"Or she caused it."
"Come on, you know better."
"I'm serious! Did you see the footage? The way the screen glitched right after she spoke? That's not a coincidence."
"So what, she's a witch now?"
"I'm saying there's something off about her. There always has been. The way she rose to fame so fast was suspicious. Also, remember how people around her just... disappear?"
"Disappear?"
"Look it up. Three producers who worked with Mariana lost their careers. Two of her co-stars — gone. Retired, moved away. One died in a car accident."
Silence.
"Holy shit."
"I told you. Guys, tell him in the comments — this Mariana fanboy needs to touch grass and come back to reality."
—
SOCIAL MEDIA MONTAGE
"Mariana Beaumont is a murderer"
"150 people died at her premiere and she hasn't said a word"
"She literally said 'you're all involved' and then they all BURNED"
"This woman sold her soul to the devil and we're all paying for it"
Comments. Thousands of them — hateful, vicious, untrue — spreading like wildfire.
—
INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICE - NIGHT
A sleek office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking city lights.
A man in an expensive suit walks in. He loosens his tie, tosses his jacket on a chair.
He heads to the bar, pulls a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, pours it into a crystal glass.
Lights a cigarette. Takes a long sip.
"Finally," he sighs deeply, satisfied. "I can have some fucking peace of mind."
Another drag. He blows out smoke. "That Mariana bitch." He laughs — a cruel sound. "Fucking cunt thought she could threaten me. Me! I made you, sweetheart. I fucking made you. Who the hell do you think you are?"
He drinks again. Smokes again.
Then the door bursts open.
His assistant rushes in, breathless. "Sir! Sir, you need to see this."
"I'm busy."
"Sir, please — it's urgent."
The man turns, annoyed. Takes the iPad from his assistant's hands.
On the screen: security footage from inside the cinema. Chaos, fire, people running.
But in the center of the frame, someone sits calmly.
"What the..." He leans closer. "Who is that?"
"Keep watching," the assistant whispers.
The figure reaches up. Pulls back their hoodie. Looks directly at the camera.
And the man's heart stops.
It's Mariana. Staring right at him. Flames close in, the camera shakes, signal cuts to static.
The man drops the iPad. His hand shakes.
"No," he breathes. "No, that's not possible. She was in there. She—"
"What do we do, sir?"
"I need to make some calls."
***
INT. CINEMA RUINS - NIGHT
The building is gutted, blackened, still smoking.
In the center of the wreckage, something glows. Blue. Soft at first, then brighter.
It spreads slowly — liquid flowing across the charred floor like water.
It rises, forms the shape of a woman.
The light solidifies. Mariana stands in the ashes. Eyes closed. Face tight with pain.
She opens her eyes. Looks around at the destruction. Then she walks, stepping carefully over debris, out into the cool night air.
After walking a while, she stops. Pulls an earpiece from her pocket. Puts it in.
"Did we do it?" a voice asks.
"I told you he'd take the bait." Mariana smiles.
The voice crackles back, calm and amused. "Yeah, you did. What now?"
Mariana looks up at the sky.
"It's only the beginning. The game is just getting started."
She quickens her pace and disappears into the shadows of the night.