The coffin loomed, its iron surface etched with Kael's name and dates that spanned centuries. Lyra traced the numerals, her aged fingers trembling. "He's mocking you. This… this isn't real."
Kael pressed his palm to the lid. Cold seeped into his bones, carrying whispers: "You've always been mine. Since the day she died."
Lyra grabbed his arm. "Don't open it."
"We don't have a choice."
The hinges screamed. Inside lay a body—not Kael's, but his mother's, preserved perfectly. Her hands clasped a journal, its pages filled with Gideon's handwriting.
Lyra recoiled. "Why would he…?"
Kael lifted the journal. The first entry dripped with familiarity: "My dearest Kael, if you're reading this, you've finally accepted your role."
Lyra's breath hitched. "That's my voice."
Kael flipped to the last page. A sketch stared back: Lyra, labeled "Subject L-7: Genetic Optimization Complete."
The ground quaked. Gideon's spectre coalesced above the coffin, his form woven from smoke and static. "You needed context. Now you have it."
Lyra's dagger flew at him, rusting mid-air. "What did you do to me?!"
"The same thing I did to her." Gideon gestured to Kael's mother. "Perfected you."
Kael's shard glowed—a final spark. He drove it into the spectre's chest.
Gideon laughed, dissolving. "You'll need more than trinkets where you're going."
The coffin snapped shut, swallowing Kael and Lyra into darkness.