When Alyssa's dagger pierced the altar crack, Kane's blood dripped onto the same stone slab three centuries prior. Moonlight through shattered stained glass nailed their overlapping shadows to curse-inscribed walls.
"You always appear at right places in wrong eras." Kane's fingers grazed her bleeding earlobe torn by temporal rift, medieval armor flickering beneath his modern trench coat.
She shook him off. A toppled brass candlestick vanished from 2025 display case, materializing beside 1693 gallows. As she crouched, her前世 wedding ring glinted in the fissure—the silver band Lain used to seal her power now burning across timelines.
"Listen, darling." Kane pressed her nape. Organ music surged from chronal layers, black-hooded nuns chanting Blood Moon Mass in parallel reality. Alyssa recognized the lead singer's amber eyes—the mute wolf servant who should've died in dungeons.
Cobalt flames erupted from the altar. 17th-century Kane tumbled into present day, bloodstained shirt clinging to him. Both versions gripped her wrists: the past one whispering "Don't let present me know about that shoulder bite", the present one sneering "Your heartbeat's waking my coffin".
Wolf howls echoed through crypts. Alyssa's Moonflare raven form spiraled out of control, modern laser grids intertwining with medieval exorcism sigils. As she yanked the tapestry blocking secret passage, 2025 surveillance screens reflected her 1725 self—plunging dagger into Lain's ancestor's heart.
"Enjoying causality?" Kane juggled apples from two eras, one worm-riddled, one cyanide-glazed. He crushed them suddenly, juices coalescing into blood moon shapes in chronal bubbles: "We're the original curse."
Thirteen tolls shattered the air. Alyssa found the dagger's gemstone alternating eras. When she reached for 1725 phantom, Kane's kiss landed on her present-day pulse point as triple-era moonlight died.