MOONBOUND SECRETS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

Second Person POV You wake to the scent of pine and cold stone. Your skull throbs, a dull ache radiating from the base of your neck to your temples. The air is sharp, sterile, like the inside of a mountain cave. Your fingers twitch against smooth rock, and when you pry your eyes open, the world is a blur of flickering torchlight and shadows. *Where are they?* Panic claws up your throat before your vision clears. Silas and Selene huddle beside you on a stone slab, their small bodies pressed together like frightened rabbits. Silas’s nose is crusted with dried blood, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. Selene trembles, her fingers tangled in your sleeve. Alive. They’re alive. “Mommy,” Selene whispers, her voice cracking. “The scary lady’s here.” You follow her gaze. The woman stands at the mouth of the chamber, her white hair cascading over shoulders draped in wolf pelts the color of fresh snow. Her eyes—pale blue, fractured like ice—bore into you. Behind her, two massive wolves

Second Person POV Zane’s grin slices through the rain like a blade. His wolves fan out behind him, eyes glowing amber in the storm-darkened woods. The air reeks of wet earth and iron, the downpour plastering your hair to your face, your clothes to your skin. Silas clutches your leg, his breath hitching. Selene presses into Ryland’s side, her tiny fingers digging into his bandages. “You’re persistent,” you spit, shifting slightly to shield the twins. “Like a roach.” He laughs, the sound swallowed by thunder. “And you’re predictable. Always playing the hero.” His gaze flicks to the twins. “But heroes die. *Mothers* die.” Ryland steps forward, his movements stiff, his voice a ragged growl. “Walk away, Zane. Last warning.” Zane’s smile widens. He snaps his fingers. The wolves attack. You shove the twins behind a moss-crusted boulder, spinning to meet the first wolf. Teeth snap at your throat—you duck, driving your elbow into its ribs. It yelps, but another slams into your sid

Second Person POV You are nowhere. No light. No sound. No heartbeat. Just the echo of your name, distant and warped, like a whisper through water. ***Zara…*** You try to move, but there’s nothing to move *toward*. No body. No breath. Only the cold, gnawing void. ***You were brave.*** The voice isn’t a sound. It’s a vibration, a pulse that reverberates through the nothingness. You recoil—or would, if you had a body. ***Brave… and foolish.*** The void shifts. A figure materializes, her form flickering between human and wolf, her eyes twin galaxies swirling with stars. The Goddess. “Let me go back,” you say—or think. It’s hard to tell here. She tilts her head, her gaze piercing. ***You made a bargain. Your life for theirs. The Veil is sealed. Why return?*** “They’re my family.” ***They are the Chosen. Their path is greater than your love.*** Rage flares, hot and sudden. “They’re *children*.” The Goddess steps closer, her presence crushing. ***And

Second Person POV You wake to the taste of iron and damp earth. Cold stone presses into your back, your wrists raw from rope bindings. The air reeks of mildew and blood. Zane’s voice slithers through the dark before you see him. “Welcome back, darling. Miss me?” He leans against the wall of the cramped cellar, a lantern dangling from his grip. The light paints his face in jagged shadows, his smirk sharp enough to cut. You strain against the ropes, but the dagger’s void in your chest lies dormant, smothered by something—*someone*—else’s doing. “What did you do to me?” you rasp. “A little herbal cocktail,” he says, tapping a vial at his belt. “Temporarily numbs magic. Even yours.” His gaze flicks to your chest, where the Goddess’s whispers once thrived. “Don’t worry. It’ll wear off… just in time for the ritual.” *Ritual.* The word coils like a snake in your gut. “What ritual?” He crouches, his breath hot on your face. “The one where you rip open the Veil for good. No more h

Second Person POV The rain falls in silver sheets, stinging your skin like needles. Each droplet hisses where it lands, searing the meadow’s grass into blackened scars. Ryland’s arms tighten around you, his warmth a fleeting comfort against the cold radiating from the shard lodged in your chest. It pulses in time with the Veil’s dissonant hum, a reminder that the fight isn’t over. “We need to bind the wound,” Ryland says, his voice frayed. He rips a strip from his shirt, but you push his hands away. “It won’t help.” The shard isn’t just in you—it’s part of you now, its crystalline edges fused to bone and sinew. You feel the Architect’s poison simmering beneath the surface, a dormant storm. Silas crouches nearby, shadows pooling at his feet like ink. “The rain… it’s *changing* things.” He’s right. The droplets aren’t just burning the grass—they’re warping it. Flowers twist into grotesque shapes, stems knotting into serpents that writhe before crumbling to ash. Selene presses h