Moonlight etched wolf claw marks on the forbidden chamber's bronze lock. As Alyssa picked it with her hairpin, Layne's silver bracelet burned her wrist—this trinket was definitely a surveillance device. The door screeched open, releasing mildew and memories: her mother's corpse had emerged from here at age seven, burial shroud clinging to sheet music fragments.
"Liars." She sneered at ancestral portraits lining the corridor, their silver spear postures unmistakably vampire-hunter stances. The attic floorboard concealed "Moonflare Sonata" sheet music, blood-inked with: "When strings cut fingers, truth weeps at the fourth high C."
Layne's footsteps echoed up the spiral staircase. Alyssa slipped into her mother's old music room. The cobweb-draped piano began playing autonomously, its bass keys oozing distorted lullabies. Moonflare erupted uncontrollably, forming a translucent phoenix whose wings revealed a hidden compartment—inside lay a war chant book bound with wolf mane, its cover bearing vampire script: "Traitor's Requiem."
"Seeking bedtime stories, darling?" Layne leaned in the doorway, moonlight stretching his pupils into serpentine slits. Alyssa brushed the sheet music against his hand. Parchment hissed on contact: "Silverfang's heir has skin thinner than paper?"
A howl erupted from the cellar. They found the mute wolf servant convulsing with half-burnt sheet music. Layne's ring flashed crimson as the dying man rasped: "Grey wolf...devours silver moon..." Before he finished, his chest exploded, music fragments morphing into black moths swarming Alyssa.