Though the underworld springs from human imagination, sometimes the face of hell cannot compare to even a fraction of the horrors found in the world of the living.
Before the myriad scenes of horror can fall into view, Alpha rushes to Eileena's side, unfurling her cloak to embrace Eileena and gently covering Eileena's eyes with her hand.
Don't look. Follow me.
Eileena grips Daybreak's sheath tightly and walks, yet she can still smell the mingled scents of a morgue and a damp forest.
That's Iva. She's holding her wedding ceremony.
Iva is pouring drinks for her guests, her decaying body sewn together with her wedding dress. What flows from her pitcher is not mead, but blood.
Alpha then sees a pair of werewolves that are two to three times larger than humans. They are nursing their young, but the wolf cubs are so ravenous they appear to be devouring their mothers instead.
That's Zoya, and the woman who testified for me...
There's a sign here, like something you'd see in a museum. The Latin inscription reads... "The Heaven of Motherhood".
Welcome to The Queen's textile factory. Greetings, Countess. Here you'll find the Queen's original supporters. We shall serve Her Majesty until the end of the world.
The lair ahead resembles a beehive, centered around a suspended throne hanging in midair. Clustered beneath the royal seat are charcoal puppets, weaving threads without sleep or rest, their broken limbs immediately reattached.
These were members of the organization. The ones I... disposed of.
Knock knock knock. Could you be asking about the puppet master, the thread weaver, the organization's heir, the black market's dreamer... Cradle? Knock knock knock. I don't know, don't know, don't know.
After a brief pause, the puppet suddenly raises its head to look at you all, opening its mouth repeatedly to form words, yet unable to make a sound. Alpha mimics the puppet's lip movements, giving voice to its wish.
Let. Me. Die.
Alpha draws her blade and sheathes it again in one motion. The puppet collapses without suffering, finally freed.
Cradle, where are you?
I'm right here, Alpha.
Alpha races toward the source of the voice, and Eileen and you can barely keep pace with her. Sure enough, Cradle is there, sewing a puppet modeled after the Queen.
You used to be the one who visited me at the clinic, as if I would forever remain behind the counter waiting for you to summon me.
Now it's your turn to come see me, Countess.
I want to know why, Cradle. For old times' sake.
Let's see if you can convince me on this grand scheme of yours.
My patience is wearing thin, so cut the fancy talk.
I want you, Alpha.
At the end of the research, you pointed to the only possibility. For that to happen, you must completely lose yourself, so I can take control of your body.
So you've been behind every blood surge, speeding up my transformation?
Yes. I need a team as obedient as dogs. Our ultimate goal is control.
During my experiments, I've tested the blood of many subjects, and my closest success was that fraud, the Holy Maiden. But the conclusion is that only your blood can create something stable.
I can't keep waiting for you to bleed just to get some pathetic samples. Wouldn't it be better if you became my puppet instead?
What about me? What's in it for me?
Being part of an eternal plan? Isn't that enough?
What do you think?
If necessary, I'll even manipulate Luna's body to help you—
Before Cradle can finish speaking, Daybreak strikes, cleaving half her body away.
Don't you dare speak her name.
But Cradle's severed body instantly mends itself, threads stitching it back to normal.
I forgive your insolence, Alpha, but there will be no mercy next time.
The truth is I'll create a flawless dreamworld for everyone. Not just you and me, but all of us. We'll live together in eternal bliss and happiness.
You're saying those puppets are "happy"? Please. This charade went out of style ages ago.
Cradle turns her gaze toward the young girl, but Alpha moves first, positioning herself in front of Eileena.
Have you found a substitute for your sister? Are you that obsessed with playing the big sister, Alpha...?
Phantom Dreams don't appear out of nowhere... They've always been this city's most sought-after contraband. Doesn't that tell you something?
Oh, another Aberration. Perhaps I'll have my own Horsemen of the Apocalypse soon.
Did I ever say I'd support you?
Why not? Aberrations have never been accepted. When you are no longer useful, you're destined to be discarded.
What's the point of protecting this city? Alpha, there's no place for you among humans or in the city. You've always been so alone.
This town isn't worth saving. But with me, your wishes and resentments will be acknowledged. You'll always have a place here, in my heart.
Why won't you just accept that I could be the one blessed by divinity? That the future I've chosen could be the right path?
If I absolutely had to pick a "boss," I'd choose Gray Raven.
Make your move, Cradle. Your talk is pathetic.
Strangely, Alpha finds herself thinking of Roland. Had he been the one spouting these delusions, perhaps they wouldn't have been so repulsive.
