Mechanical Cradle

Blood Compass

The ice die melted in Kain's palm, fluorescent liquid mapping coordinates to the abandoned "Cradle" facility—birthplace of the original Godslayers. Alys' scepter grazed the hologram, triggering a surge as genetic shards in her birthmark resonated with something deep within.

"Something's mimicking my frequency." She crushed ice forming on her sleeve. "Like twisted reflections."

Selene's neural core overheated, deleted memory streams flashing Ilana's face. Electrolyte fluid dripped from her nostrils, shimmering with silver traces.

Rusted Cradle

The facility's dome festered with fetus-shaped rust. Vent pipes wailed like infants. When Kain's silver spine breached the gates, black ooze surged forth, solidifying into church knights—their armor etched with Alys' frost rose sigil.

"They stole my genetic code..." Alys drove her scepter down, but the frostfire storm got absorbed by living armor.

Kain's dragon form tore open a knight's chest, revealing the mechanical heart within—a fusion of Cinder's resonance and Ilana's silver blood, stamped: CRADLE PROTOCOL - FINAL VESSEL.

Mirror Matriarch

In the central chamber floated Alys' doppelgänger. A church crucifix replaced her womb, gears supplanting the frost rose birthmark. At Alys' touch, the clone awoke, frostfire energy overwhelming the scepter.

"You're the counterfeit." The clone's chainsaw spine shattered the chamber, voice layered with static. "The Cradle requires purity."

Kain's silver sand morphed into a two-headed dragon—Leah's face on one head, Cinder's specter on the other. As fangs snapped toward the clone, Alys' birthmark split, silver blood splattering the mechanical hearts—

Cradle Requiem

The blood triggered Cinder's fail-safe. Hearts detonated in sync, knights melting into slag. The clone disintegrated, her crucifix falling to reveal micro-engraving from Ilana's scalpel: "Alys, RUN!"

Amid collapsing rubble, Alys snatched the crucifix. Inside hid a charred data chip. Selene's mecha-bees transmitted final footage—Cinder on a rain-slicked night, engraving true Cradle schematics onto Ilana's surgical blade.

Under auroras, Kain's silver spine softened, curling protectively around Alys' bleeding birthmark. The chip glowed with new coordinates deep in the Arctic Circle—where Ilana's last message pulsed:

"Burn the cradle. Wake the dreamers."