Dressing-room candles cast seventeen reflections. As Alyssa touched the silver-wolf embroidery, metallic threads constricted her throat like serpents.
"Hold still." Layne's clockwork fingers slid measuring tape along her waist. His pupils fractalized in candlelight, reflecting blood-runes forming on the corset's back panel—"spun from the first Wolf Queen's spine," his voice glitched.
Moonflare hatchling erupted in her ribs, only to be absorbed by fang-studded veil. Ripping it off, the fangs grew into her wrists. Blood seeped through embroidery, dyeing white gown crimson like "blood and lust incarnate" in Gothic weddings.
"Perfect fit." His fangs grazed her bleeding ear, breath reeking of embalming spices. His heartbeat synced with antique clock gears. When her flame hawk shattered mirrors, the fragments showed her strangled in different-era wedding dresses.
Harp strings snapped below. The train coiled around her ankles, lace edges revealing Kane's mother's scrawled "RUN." Layne stepped on the hem, producing a spine-made hoop: "Your sister's design keeps you...graceful during rites."
Moonflare phoenix incinerated the veil, ashes forming new prophecy: When blood drowns silver threads, the Wolf Mother rises. Flames revealed her crowned reflection—Layne tightening her brand with gear-key.
"Now it's authentically bloodstained." He licked her silver-burned neck, black blood dripping. "Why Gothic? Black best complements—"
Kane's arrow shattered the window, carrying Evelyn's sketch labeled "7th Sacrifice Restraint" .
Silver threads slithered underground. Wallpaper peeled, exposing virgin-blood sacrificial circles—six identical gowns at the center, each stabbed through the heart with Silverfang daggers.