The moment the catacombs sealed behind them, Holt felt it like a switch flipping.
Not a gentle one.
Not even a gradual one.
More like a bass drop in a silent room—sudden, absolute, unavoidable.
He blinked once.
Then rolled his shoulders like he was stretching into place.
"Finally," Holt muttered under his breath. "Took long enough."
Jackson's presence didn't disappear—never did—but it shifted backward, like someone stepping behind a curtain.
You're up, Holt, Jackson's voice echoed faintly.
"I noticed," Holt replied dryly.
Ahead of him, the others were already moving deeper into the Hall of Halloween, completely unaware of the internal handover happening in real time inside their "Jackie."
Frankie glanced back. "You okay? You were kinda… spaced out."
Holt flashed an easy grin—too easy, too bright. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking. Don't worry about it."
Clawd shrugged. "As long as you're good, man."
"Oh, I'm more than good," Holt said, slipping smoothly into step with them. "This place is actually starting to get interesting."
And it was.
Finally.
---
The Hall of Halloween wasn't just a room.
It was a statement.
Stone arches towered overhead like frozen soundwaves. Carvings of monsters and humans filled every surface—dancing, laughing, trading masks, sharing food beneath banners that looked like they hadn't been touched in centuries.
Holt let out a low whistle.
"Now this is what I'm talkin' about."
Frankie slowed. "You're… not freaked out?"
"Freaked out?" Holt scoffed. "This is history with style."
Deuce raised an eyebrow. "You're taking this better than Jackie usually does."
That made Holt pause for half a second.
Then he shrugged it off.
"Jackie worries too much," he said lightly.
From the back of his mind, Jackson grumbled.
I do not.
Yes, you do, Holt thought back instantly.
---
Abbey stepped closer to one of the murals. "It is… different from story we hear."
"Yeah," Draculaura agreed softly. "They said Halloween was about monsters hiding from humans… but this looks like the opposite."
Cleo crossed her arms. "Ancient propaganda is still propaganda."
"Or," Holt said casually, hands in his pockets, "it's just history nobody bothered to argue about loudly enough."
That got a few looks.
He just smiled wider.
Operetta, leaning against a pillar ahead, gave a low whistle. "Well, well. Jackie's got opinions today."
Holt tilted his head. "Jackie's always got opinions. I'm just better at sayin' them out loud."
Operetta smirked. "Mm. We'll see about that."
Something in her tone lingered longer than the words.
Holt noticed.
Of course he did.
---
A sudden sound echoed deeper in the hall.
"Whoa—c'mon, ghouls! Let's check it out!"
Heath.
Of course.
Holt sighed. "Please tell me that's not the one who touches everything."
Frankie groaned. "That's Heath."
"Called it."
---
They moved quickly through another archway, boots echoing against ancient stone until the corridor opened into a wider chamber.
And there he was.
Heath stood near a massive stone mechanism built into the floor, scratching his head nervously.
"Uh… hey guys?" he called out. "So I might've… maybe… kinda bumped something?"
The structure beneath him groaned.
Holt stopped immediately.
"…Oh, that's not good."
Abbey's eyes narrowed. "Move."
Too late.
The ceiling cracked.
Stone shifted.
The whole chamber shuddered like it was waking up angry.
"HEATH!" Frankie shouted.
Abbey moved faster than logic allowed, grabbing Heath by the back of his jacket and yanking him out of the way just as a slab of ancient stone slammed down where he'd been standing.
BOOM.
Dust exploded into the air.
Silence followed.
Heath blinked. "Whoa. That was… actually kind of awesome."
Abbey exhaled sharply. "You are impossible."
"Thanks?"
Holt stared at the collapsed mechanism.
Not random.
Not even close.
That was triggered.
His grin faded slightly.
"…Okay," he muttered. "That's new."
Jackson's voice flickered faintly in the back. That wasn't an accident.
"I know," Holt replied under his breath.
---
The group gathered again, tension rising.
Clawd folded his arms. "Okay, so ancient creepy hallway is also booby-trapped. Cool cool cool."
Gil nodded slowly. "That's… actually kind of normal for underground stuff."
"No," Holt said immediately. "That's not normal. That's intentional."
Cleo frowned. "You think someone set this up?"
"Or left it," Holt corrected. "Big difference."
Draculaura glanced around uneasily. "But why would anyone protect a story like this?"
Holt looked at the carvings again.
Monsters and humans together.
Equal.
Unafraid.
Celebrating.
He exhaled through his nose.
"…Because stories like this don't stay convenient forever."
---
A slow clap echoed from the side of the chamber.
"Mm. Not bad."
Everyone turned.
Operetta stepped out from the shadows again, arms folded, boots clicking lightly against stone.
"Didn't think y'all would figure out 'dangerous ancient hallway' that fast."
Frankie brightened. "Operetta! You really do live down here!"
"Not live," she corrected. "Rehearse. Think. Avoid nonsense."
Her gaze slid—again—to Holt.
Longer this time.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
He always did.
"Well, DJ Hyde," she drawled, testing the nickname like a note on a piano, "you're awfully chipper for someone standing in a buried history lesson."
Holt smirked. "I like buried things. They've got less attitude than surface-level drama."
Operetta's lips twitched.
"Careful," she said. "This place has a habit of playin' back."
---
Frankie stepped forward. "Operetta, do you know what this Hall really is?"
"Oh, I know what it was," Operetta said lightly. "And I know what folks pretend it wasn't."
Cleo narrowed her eyes. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Operetta said, tapping the stone wall beside her, "someone decided monsters and humans bein' equals wasn't a story worth keepin' alive."
Silence hit the group harder than the falling stone earlier.
Holt felt Jackson shift slightly in the back.
Uncomfortable.
Conflicted.
Yeah, Holt thought quietly. Me too.
But his voice didn't waver.
"That's a pretty big rewrite," he said.
Operetta tilted her head. "History usually is."
---
Another distant noise echoed through the tunnels.
Closer now.
Multiple footsteps.
Frankie tensed. "Uh… guys?"
Clawd frowned. "Tell me that's not more collapsing stuff."
"It's not," Gil said slowly. "That sounds like… people."
Holt exhaled.
"Great."
Jackson's voice tightened. That doesn't sound good.
"No kidding," Holt muttered.
---
Then they appeared.
Not monsters.
Not students.
Human silhouettes at the far end of the corridor, moving with purpose, carrying lanterns and tools, voices echoing faintly off the stone.
The group froze.
Frankie whispered, "Normies…?"
Cleo's posture stiffened instantly. "Here?"
Draculaura stepped back slightly.
Abbey's eyes narrowed.
Holt watched them carefully.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Assessment.
"…Okay," he said quietly. "That's either very wrong timing… or very intentional."
---
A shout echoed from the humans.
"Look! Something's down here!"
The group tensed.
Clawd cracked his knuckles. "We should go."
Frankie nodded quickly. "Yeah. Definitely go."
But Holt didn't move immediately.
Because he was looking at the Hall again.
At the carvings.
At the story.
At the version of Halloween that didn't make anyone a villain by default.
Jackson stirred faintly.
We shouldn't be here.
Holt hesitated.
Then, softer than usual:
Yeah… probably not.
Because they both knew that something like that couldn't happen these days...
---
Operetta stepped forward, cutting through the tension like a guitar riff.
"Well," she said casually, though her eyes were sharp, "looks like the party's getting crowded."
Frankie blinked. "What do we do?"
Holt finally turned away from the hall.
A grin returned—smaller now, sharper at the edges.
"Simple," he said.
"We don't get caught."
---
And as the group turned to move deeper into the catacombs, away from the approaching humans—
Holt couldn't shake one thought.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Just a growing certainty that the story they thought they knew…
wasn't finished.
Not even close.
Just then they faintly heard Headless Headmistress Bloodgood herself, "Attention, students, attention! Will everyone please go to the Clawditorium in five minutes for an emergency assembly."
'God damn it..."
The Clawditorium doors groaned open like they were tired of holding the world's worst news inside.
Students spilled in—no rushing, no screaming, just that uneasy shuffle of a school that already knew something had gone wrong but hadn't been told how badly yet.
Jackson—well, Holt, for now—moved with the crowd like he belonged there more than anyone else. Hands loose in his pockets. Shoulders relaxed. Expression halfway between bored and amused.
Inside his head, Jackson was very much not relaxed.
This is getting serious, Jackson murmured.
Holt gave a faint mental shrug. Yeah. That's usually what "emergency assembly" means.
Frankie slid into place near Clawd and Deuce, eyes darting around. "Okay… I don't like this vibe. Emergency assemblies never bring snacks or good news."
Clawd muttered, "Name one time they did."
Frankie paused. "Exactly."
Holt leaned slightly against the wall, scanning the room.
Something about it felt tighter than usual. Like the air itself was bracing for impact.
---
The lights dimmed.
Silence snapped down instantly.
Headmistress Bloodgood stepped forward.
No theatrics.
No hesitation.
Just authority.
"Settle down, please."
The room obeyed.
Even Cleo stopped mid-whisper.
Even Heath stopped fidgeting.
Bloodgood's voice carried cleanly through the hall.
"It is now clear that the situation with the normies in the next town has become much worse."
A ripple moved through the students.
Holt's posture didn't change.
But Jackson's voice in the back sharpened.
Worse how?
Holt didn't answer immediately.
Because he already didn't like the direction this was going.
---
"Until Halloween is over," Bloodgood continued, "when you are outside of Monster High, please disguise yourselves, hide. Do not let anyone know you are a monster."
The room detonated.
"What?!"
"Hide?!"
"That's insane!"
Frankie shot up instantly. "Wait—hide who we are?!"
Clawd frowned. "That's not how we do things."
Deuce looked around like he expected someone to correct reality. "Uh… yeah, that's kinda the opposite of everything here."
Frankie stepped forward, voice rising. "Headmistress Bloodgood, this goes against everything we've been taught at Monster High! We shouldn't be embarrassed of our differences. We should be proud!"
A wave of agreement rolled through the room.
And Holt and Jackson could only sigh.
Mentally.
And physically.
Because that's just what they always did.
"Yeah!"
"Exactly!"
"We're monsters!"
Frankie turned, more fired up now. "And we used to be proud! Look! No one knows this, but Halloween used to be for monsters! We were celebrated and admired, not chased and ridiculed!"
The energy shifted—stronger now.
Like something waking up.
Frankie raised her voice higher. "So I say it's time we stop being afraid and take back our holiday!"
The crowd surged.
"For all monsters!"
"Yeah!"
"Take it back!"
"Let's take back Halloween!"
Frankie pointed forward, adrenaline overtaking caution. "By force!"
The Clawditorium exploded.
"Yeah, we're with you!"
"No more hiding!"
Frankie blinked. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—"
But it was already gone.
The idea had escaped.
---
Holt exhaled slowly.
"…That escalated."
Jackson's voice was tight now. That's not what she meant.
"I know," Holt said. "But that's what they heard."
Frankie spun back toward Bloodgood. "We meant standing up for ourselves! Not starting a war!"
But the room didn't settle.
Because once fear and anger mix—
they don't unmix easily.
---
Headmistress Bloodgood raised a hand sharply.
Silence crashed back into place.
"I understand your emotions," she said carefully, "but I must emphasize: reacting impulsively will only make matters worse. We cannot afford to ignite old tensions between us."
A pause.
"Especially this close to Halloween."
The weight of that landed harder than anything else.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Responsibility.
---
Cleo crossed her arms. "So we're supposed to just do nothing?"
"That is not what I said," Bloodgood replied evenly.
Cleo huffed. "It's what it sounded like."
Ghoulia scribbled rapidly and held up her notebook:
"Things escalating: confirmed."
Cleo groaned. "Love that for us."
---
Holt shifted slightly in place.
Jackson was quieter now.
Not calmer.
Just… thinking.
This is exactly how it starts, Jackson said.
Holt didn't argue.
Yeah. I know.
---
Frankie sank back down, frustrated. "I just wanted people to understand. Not… this."
Clawd rubbed the back of his neck. "Too late for 'not this,' I think."
Deuce frowned. "So what do we even do now?"
No one answered.
Because no one had a safe answer.
---
The assembly began breaking apart in waves of noise.
Groups forming.
Arguments sparking.
Whispers turning into plans.
The school wasn't calming down.
It was splitting.
---
As Holt turned to leave with the others, Frankie caught up beside him, still clearly shaken.
"I didn't mean to start anything big," she said quickly. "I just… I don't like the idea of hiding again."
Holt glanced at her.
"Yeah," he said. "Nobody does."
That surprised her slightly. "Then why did it sound like I just caused a riot?"
Holt shrugged. "Because monsters don't do 'small feelings' very well."
Frankie groaned. "That was not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Jackson sighed in the back. You're really leaning into the 'honest chaos' thing today.
Holt smirked faintly. It suits me.
---
The hallway outside buzzed like a storm about to break.
Students talking over each other.
Some excited.
Some angry.
Some scared.
All of it tangled together.
Cleo marched past, already mid-argument with someone off-screen. "If those other normies think they can just walk in and—"
"Cleo," Ghoulia signed calmly, gently tugging her sleeve.
Cleo stopped. "What?"
Ghoulia pointed at her notebook again:
"This is how misunderstandings become disasters.
Cleo stared at it. "Ugh. I hate when she's right quietly."
---
Holt slowed slightly as they walked.
Jackson's presence shifted again—uneasy now, watching.
This isn't going to settle, Jackson said.
"No," Holt agreed softly. "It's not."
Frankie walked just ahead of them, still talking with Clawd, trying to pull things back toward sense.
But sense felt far away now.
---
Somewhere deeper in Monster High, a door slammed.
Somewhere else, voices rose louder than they should've.
And somewhere in the middle of it all—
a single idea kept spreading through the school like ink in water:
We used to be celebrated.
We could be again.
And Holt—
for once not joking, not deflecting, not performing—
just watched it happen.
Quietly aware that whatever came next…
was no longer just a misunderstanding waiting to be fixed...