The cathedral bell's vibrations shuddered through Elias's bones as he hauled Lira upright. The contact between his corrupted arm and her glowing wound sent jagged arcs of pain radiating through his shoulder, the gold veins pulsing like live wires beneath his skin. Across the undercroft, the twelfth skeleton's hollow gaze tracked them with unsettling precision, its skeletal fingers twitching toward the silver nail that had fallen from the first guardian's remains.

Lira gasped as another wave of ancestral memory struck her - this time clearer than before. She saw the truth now: the twelve original guardians hadn't acted out of malice, but desperation. The Hollow King had volunteered to contain something far worse, something that had been whispering to their village elders long before the Spanish ships appeared on the horizon. The silver nails weren't instruments of betrayal, but sacred anchors meant to stabilize the ritual. They had failed when outside forces interfered.

Elias barely registered Father Mateo's arrival until the old priest's censer swung past his face, spraying blessed smoke that made Pinky recoil with a sound like steam escaping a kettle. The creature's single black eye rolled wildly in its socket as it scrambled back, its too-long fingers leaving bloody scratches on the stone floor.

"Take this!" Father Mateo thrust a rusted iron key into Elias's hand. The moment his fingers closed around it, the metal grew warm and pliable, its teeth shifting to form the baybayin symbol for "truth" - the same mark that now glowed on Lira's collarbone. "It's from the first church built on this ground," the priest panted. "Forged when we still remembered."

The twelfth skeleton moved with sudden purpose, its bones clicking like a deathwatch beetle's warning as it lifted the silver nail. But instead of attacking, it extended the relic toward Lira in a gesture that could only be described as reverent. The hollow sockets of its skull fixed on her glowing wound, and when it spoke, its voice carried the weight of centuries:

"The first nail must return to the first hand. Only the blood of the penitent can mend what was broken."

Lira's breath hitched as understanding dawned. The glow from her wound wasn't just a marker of her ancestry - it was a beacon. The original guardians had built a fail-safe into their ritual, ensuring one of their bloodline would always be drawn back to set things right. Her grandmother's lullaby hadn't just been a song, but a carefully preserved set of instructions passed down through generations.

Before she could react, Middlefinger's massive fist sent Father Mateo crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch of breaking ribs. Ringfinger's dozen mouths began chanting in a corrupted version of the original ritual, their voices warping the air as the remaining suspended skeletons thrashed against their invisible bonds.

Elias raised the Spanish pistol, but the twelfth skeleton moved faster. With a motion that spoke of ancient practice, it plunged the silver nail into its own empty eye socket.

The undercroft erupted in golden light. The very stones beneath their feet began to tremble as long-buried baybayin carvings flared to life across the walls, their forgotten prayers humming with renewed power. The suspended skeletons glowed like lanterns, their bones becoming translucent as the truth of their sacrifice shone through - not damned souls, but willing sentinels who had stood watch for centuries.

As the light intensified, Lira realized with dawning horror what came next. The ritual required balance. Eleven guardians had given their lives to maintain the seal. If the Hollow King was to be truly freed, another would need to take their place.

And Elias, with his corrupted arm and the box's whispers in his mind, was already halfway there.