Moonlight leaked through St. Mary's Abbey's collapsed dome, weaving cobweb patterns on Alyssa's bloodied wedding gown via corroded organ pipes. Layne's clockwork fingers throttled her throat, gear-grinding synced with her carotid pulse—a macabre metronome for this death ritual.
"Curtain call, my tempestuous bride." His forked tongue unfurled twin serpentine strips carved withrunes. "A final gift from your father—"
Moonflare hatchling erupted in her ribs, choked to violet by his swallowed azurite dust. As he leaned in, she tasted blood's iron tang mixed with embalming spices—identical to the funeral scent from childhood hiding in mother's wardrobe.
The kiss burned like an electrified scalpel. When Layne's fangs pierced her lip, visions struck: her three-centuries-past self crucified on an astrolabe, Layne implanting gears into her spine in the same posture. Burning agony spread from tongue root—no kiss, but ancient sigils etching flesh.
"Resistance levels increased 15%." His mechanical spine ejected a syringe that hissed into her neck. "Require emotional suppressants, darling?"
Blood fog eclipsed moonlight. Moonflare hawk shattered restraints, searing a skull pattern into Layne's suit. Charred fabric revealed mercury-gray skin regenerating like molten wax. She bit his tongue tip—black blood flooded her mouth, micro-gears clinking against molars to form coordinate runes.
"Love's GPS." He licked crimson streaks, pupils fractalizing into kaleidoscope eyes. "When I install Kane's eyeballs into surveillance, you'll watch Silverfangs perish real-time..."
Clocktower gears screeched overload. Moonflare phoenix imploded through stained glass. Amid shards, Alyssa saw three-days-ago self—Layne fastening a collar whose pendant hid a blinking camera.
"You overlook details." Layne stomped her lace train, silver threads constricting old scars. "This collar doesn't just track," he tapped its edge, conjuring Kane's screams from below, "but shares pain."
Her ring rotated counterclockwise, flaying her ring finger. Blood splattered the Virgin Mary statue's eyes, oozing azurite fluid. Moonflare mutated gunmetal-gray, phoenix tail feathers exposing a hidden crypt—six Alyssa clones floating in preservatives, incomplete wolf brands on their backs.
"Clones expire too fast." Layne's fangs scraped her metallic scales. "Originals endure..."
Evelyn's shriek interrupted. Alyssa turned to see her sister's phantom rising from blood pools, rotten hand clutching journals—their father's last photo showed cigar boxes stamped with Layne's bat insignia.
The sigil activated. Tongue root seared as if branded. Alyssa spat gear-studded clots that morphed into probe spiders. Layne's sneer merged with alarms as abbey floors turned transparent, revealing cogwheel oceans below—each groove clutching rings syphoning her life-force into his heart.
"Now we're truly one." His finger traced her countdown-etched collarbone. "When Kane storms in with rescuers..."
Mechanical bats blotted moonlight. Biting her own tongue, Alyssa branded an inverted pentagram on Layne's chest with Moonflare-tainted blood. As boots echoed closer, her spine's new gears synchronized perfectly with his heartbeat.