Moonlight sifted through the derelict concert hall's shattered dome as spiderwebs. When Alyssa touched her mother's harp, mildewed sheet music fell out—menstrual-blood notes squirming under moonlight. Layne juggled silver apples by broken pillars, his pupils flickering reptilian at each arc's peak.
"Should've burned this relic centuries ago." He bit an apple, juice corroding stone where it dripped from fresh wrist burns.
The seventh plucked string drew Moonflare hatchling into the harp. Rotting wood oozed black ichor as the First Wolf Mother's statue ignited green flames, composing a funeral march variation. Layne's apple rolled, skin smoking where musical projections touched.
"Kill this damn gramophone!" He snapped three strings oozing silver marrow. The statue's scepter pointed east, forcing future visions into Alyssa: Layne stabbing her father's third eye, seventeen hanged direwolves under blood moon.
Kane's dagger shattered the vision. Real Layne licked precognition sweat behind her ear: "Prophet blood's exquisite." His fangs left frostbite-like marks healing fivefold faster.
Alyssa kicked the harp. Bronze nightingales erupted, swirling into an hourglass above the statue. Moonflare hawk shattered the dome. Layne's silver bracelet melted, revealing inverted cross brands matching Kane's mother's epitaph.
"Game ascends." Layne ripped off charred skin, exposing clockwork beneath gray dermis. "Think you awakened war songs?" He snapped the scepter, revealing a vial of her umbilical blood.
Cellar howls triggered another vision: Kane stabbing her phoenix heart. Distracted, Layne injected the blood into harp strings. Baptismal hymns played autonomously. Exploding nightingales spewed emerald gas, the statue's face morphing into Evelyn's.
"Gift from sister." Layne's voice warped in poison fog, metal prosthetics grinding. "Said you needed motivation..."
Bat swarms blotted moonlight. The last nightingale's wreckage spelled: "When strings drown in sister's blood, the Wolf Mother resurrects through envy."