The Last Moonbane のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Seraphina’s POVMorning came without mercy.The town looked gentle beneath it—lanterns snuffed, shutters propped open, the square rinsed in gold—but the gentleness felt like a lie we’d already read to the end. Inside the inn room, our victory was simple and unadorned: four of us upright, four of us breathing. We’d held through the night. No one had fallen. No loops had snapped shut around us.Relief arrived—and passed. Because the door told the rest of the story.The iron-banded wood sagged on its hinges, hairline fractures spidering out from each gouge where claws had raked at the barrier’s skin. Splinters sprouted along the grain like a field of pale weeds. A new crack had appeared through the center panel, thin as a thread but deep, and when the light slid across it I could see it widen, the way a wound opens when the muscles beneath it flex.Thalia lifted the latch with two fingers. Even that light touch made the whole frame creak.“We won’t get another night out of this,” she sai

Seraphina’s POVAt the stairs to the basement, we pressed fingers through the bars and felt cold damp air rising. It smelled like stone and old water. And something sweeter beneath it, like bruised fruit. I didn’t like the way that made me think of the color red.By the time we moved through the square again, the sun’s angle had deepened. It was still day, but shadows had lengthened into something with teeth.We didn’t stop at the bakery.Back in the room, the door looked worse under afternoon light. The crack across the central panel had reached the iron band; brown sap had bled along the split and hardened there, tacky to the touch—if wood could sweat, this was it. The shimmer on the threshold held, but farther out on the frame, in the corners and the seams, it thinned. You could see the air ripple where it tugged.Thalia set her bundle of copied notes down like something brittle that might break if she wished it to. Nyra cleared the table with methodical care and began making dupli

Seraphina’s POVThe silence of the altar chamber pressed in on me like a physical weight. The air was stale, heavy, as though even the dust motes dared not move without permission. My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and each beat of my heart sounded too loud in my ears. Hours had passed since the ritual, hours since we pressed our own blood against the cold stone, watching the fragments hum with that faint, haunting glow of gold.And yet, despite the unnatural calm that blanketed the chamber, I could not shake the sense that something lurked just out of sight. It was the kind of presence you couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either, like the air itself was waiting for the moment to strike.No one spoke anymore. Our words had been spent, burned away by exhaustion and urgency. Because the truth was—time was running out.Last night, we had barely managed to hold the monsters at bay, buying survival at the cost of our own blood. That fragile barrier, woven with pain and sacrifice,

Seraphina’s POVThe clock struck six.The sound rolled through the library like thunder, shaking dust from the rafters. My breath froze in my throat as the last rays of sunlight bled away, swallowed by the sudden dusk that always marked the beginning of the nightmare.It was happening again.The warmth leached out of the air, leaving only a chill that gnawed at my bones. The silence broke—first a whisper, then a groan, then a chorus of distorted wails rising from the streets beyond. The townsfolk were changing. Their memories of laughter, trade, and music were long gone. What remained of them clawed their way into the night.And now, they were here.The shadows between the shelves shivered, took shape. Limbs bent at unnatural angles, torsos stretched too thin. Their eyes—those terrible golden eyes—burned in the dark. I gripped Lynora’s diary tighter against my chest. Its leather cover was cold, but beneath that cold, I swore I felt a heartbe

Seraphina’s POVThe clash was wrong.Steel met steel, but it sounded like glass shattering inside my skull.Every motion I made—every snarl, every strike—echoed back at me an instant too late, like time itself stuttering.My claws met hers.My teeth tore through my own reflection’s throat.But she didn’t fall.She split into ash—then reformed, eyes blazing silver.The clock above screamed its first toll.One.The vibration shook the air, rattling through my bones. My other self lunged again—stronger this time, faster, her movements perfectly aligned with mine. We collided, claws locking, blood hissing where our power met. Sparks flared violet and gold.“Break formation!” Elias roared somewhere behind me. His blade rang, meeting another copy’s sword. “They’re mimicking everything!”“I noticed!” I snarled, ducking as my double’s claws slashed across my face. Blood splattered, hot and real. The scent burned through my senses. She smelled like me. Fought like me. Felt like—“Focus!” Nyra’