Flames licked parchment edges in the fireplace as Odile's alabaster fingers held yellowed letters. Emerald rings refracted serpent-pupil glints onto the walls. Ayla's iris brooch burned—forcibly pinned by Lucas last night—its prong drawing blood that now crawled upward, crystallizing "1999.8.24" along silver veins.
"Youth ignites so well." Odile tossed letters into fire, watching parchment curl into scapula shapes. "Especially when barbed."
(Ashes levitated, forming the necklace maker's profile—overlapping Eric's youthful silhouette)
Lucas' prosthetic hand plunged into flames. Cerulean blood etched charred words onto stone: "Love is the most efficient destruction protocol." Fire turned cyan, resurrecting burnt pages now cipher-reversed—Ayla recognized her mother's specimen catalog system.
"Done playing?" Eric offered a damp handkerchief, his cuff revealing watch chains entwined with unburnt scraps. "Should've burned these decades ago."
Odile's wedding ring lasered the restored letters. This time ashes coalesced into the rusted sakura pendant's hologram. The brooch's date glowed, resonating with "1988.3.17" inside the pendant. Lucas' spinal vents exhaled rose-scented cerulean steam.
"Hurt?" She bandaged his blistered palm with torn skirt, noticing subdermal black rose thorns consuming ashes. "You could've dodged."
Lucas let her press him onto the Persian rug. When his head touched her lap, his mechanical heart stuttered: "Her failsafe program...self-destructs when protecting you."
(Attic music boxes clicked in reverse, warping into Odile's girlhood wedding march)
Ayla's fingers brushed the micro-sensor behind his ear—scorching hot. The brooch detached, hovering between them to inhale ashes. Faded irises rejuvenated, revealing laser-etched "L&A 1999.8.24"—eleven years prior to his mechanical heart's production date.
Odile's laughter crackled with fireplace sparks: "Finally see? Your birth certificates were my finest lab logs."
Lucas convulsed, spinal machinery tearing Ayla's skirt. She gripped his bleeding shoulders—this angle revealing Eric's watch face cracks forming the same date.
"Sleep." She covered his oozing ear, humming her mother's requiem variation. "I'm here now."
As steam turned pearlescent, the final ash hologrammed baby footprints—left stamped with Lucas' serial code, right imprinted with Ayla's rebirth EEG. In the attic shadows, Eric slid charred envelope fragments into a painting's hidden compartment, its wax seal matching the brooch's engravings.