Inside a luxurious bridal suite, an enraged mother-in-law towers over a bride confined to a wheelchair, slapping her across the face as she hisses, "You will never be worthy of my son!" Outside the window, a homeless girl watches in silence until the older woman notices her and hurls a heavy vase through the glass. As the bride suddenly rises from her wheelchair to shield the frightened girl, the mother-in-law collapses into the chair instead, her legs turning as rigid as stone. A chilling silence fills the room as the bride uncovers the horrifying truth: the family's fortune is bound to an ancient curse that allows only one woman to walk at a time. The mother-in-law's cruelty had always been driven by the terror of losing her own mobility and exposing the family's darkest secret. Only shattered glass and the haunting echo of an operatic melody remain in the air.

The subterranean hall was no longer silent.

The six stone statues of the previous Blackwood brides were glowing with an ominous, violent crimson light. Deep cracks were spreading across their stone skin, and a sound like weeping wind reverberated through the black marble vault.

At the center of the hall, the central altar was pulsating like a living heart, sending waves of intense heat and suffocating pressure into the cold air.

"The house is trying to defend itself!" Julian shouted over the deafening roar of grinding stone.

From the shadows behind the altar, three dark figures materialized. They were the long-dead guardians of the covenant—spectral thralls clad in ancient black armor, their eyes glowing with yellow fire, holding heavy iron broadswords.

"They won't let anyone touch the pedestal," Maeve warned, drawing a small wooden staff from beneath her cloak. "Julian! Protect Violet! I will hold the thralls back!"

Maeve slammed her staff against the marble floor. A blinding ring of white fire erupted around her, throwing the three spectral guardians back into the darkness.

Julian pulled Violet toward the altar. The cold petrification on Violet’s leg had reached her thigh; she was forced to limp heavily, leaning her weight against Julian's sturdy frame.

"We have to do this now!" Violet gasped, her body shaking from the bitter cold radiating from her stiffening leg.

They stood before the central altar. The surface of the stone was carved with complex, bloody runes that seemed to squirm like living worms beneath the surface.

Julian took the silver dagger, coated in Maeve's glowing potion. Without hesitation, he sliced deep across the palm of his left hand. Crimson blood welled up instantly, glowing with a faint silver hue.

He turned to Violet, his eyes filled with absolute determination. "Trust me?"

"With my life," Violet replied softly.