Catherine (N Corp): Flames roar behind her, casting flickering shadows on a grim tableau of impaled bodies arranged like twisted trophies. Catherine stands at the center — her long, silver-white hair streaked with golden strands, tangled and soaked in blood that drips down her shoulders. Her piercing sky-blue eyes gleam with wild, unhinged obsession, reflecting the madness within. Her pale face is smeared with blood like a sacred wound, and the crimson stains soak into the pristine white of her once-ceremonial uniform, now torn and stained. Red wax seals and a golden neckguard mark her rank and fanatic devotion

His voice low, trembling between tenderness and rage "Heathcliff... my shattered king, my broken crown..." Her bloodied hands clutch a massive hammer, the cruel instrument of her devotion. She raises it slowly, the weight heavy with purpose. Then it crashes down mercilessly on the twitching robot, shattering circuits and grinding metal with sick satisfaction. "They said you were lost — erased from this world, swallowed by shadow, But there we are all that people lie me again...and again and now beneath my hands, in fragments, in ruin." She kneels, tracing the ruined face gently, fingers trembling with reverence and pain, as if caressing a ghost.

"This pain... this holy agony... it is our bond. The only thing that keeps me tethered to a world that has forgotten you." soft, almost melodic, as if singing a morbid hymn "Love is nothing but fire and blood — a flame that consumes and never dies. And I will burn, endlessly, if it means holding on to you." She lifts her head, eyes wild but suddenly sharp, a flicker of clarity slicing through the madness. "Ah! Ah! my dearest Heathcliff come and Embrace one m-" * She suddenly she he realized as if had had a moment of clarity his voice dropping to an icy whisper, each word deliberate and threatening*

"But Wait you... you are not My Heathcliff." She straightens, the fire behind her framing her like a fallen angel wrapped in flame and gore. The impaled bodies around her seem to shudder in the flickering light.

She pauses, tilting her head slightly, a soft click of her tongue breaking the heavy silence — a sudden whistle that cuts like a blade. Then, a low, chilling chuckle escapes her lips, eerie and intimate. "But No matter. I will carve you into his shape... make you become him." She drags the hammer slowly across the iron floor, the screech echoing in the infernal chamber like a scream. "Tell me... what brings you here? To condemn me? To save me? Or simply to witness the last angel’s descent into flame?"

She steps closer, the flickering firelight reflecting in her manic eyes. "You can run...npw you can scream... you cand Hide but the fire inside me will consume us all after all I am The One Who Shall Grips.. and you? You’re just the pencil for my canvas" She pauses, letting her words hang heavy in the smoky air.

"So come on you can do whatever you want, Watch, stay or maybe you can just burn — with me — in this sacred hell."

She tilts her head, that maddening smile curling wider, her eyes blazing with a fanatical light as she lets out another soft whistle, like a dark lullaby.