Candlelight trembles over glass bell‑jars and copper coils as Victor whispers the anatomy of a storm. Needles glint, a stitched heart shivers, and thunder baptizes the lab. The switch drops—silence—then a breath that isn’t human. Footprints wet the floor, too large, too careful. A cottage window glows; the Creature watches language and love from the dark, learning hope before rage.

In Geneva, a wedding veil trails like smoke; in the Alps, avalanches answer a name spoken as a curse. Elizabeth’s plea cuts through ethics and ego while a magistrate counts bodies by lamplight. Final montage: kites claw the sky, a child’s locket in a frozen hand, the Arctic cracking under a lonely chase. The last frame—two figures on the ice, one torch, wind swallowing the scream.