The Carpathian Prophecy Of Alpha's Love のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

THE PROPHET WITHOUT A NAME“A name is power. But what happens when something too ancient, too forgotten, never had one to begin with?”Aryn didn’t wake up screaming. She simply opened her eyes, and the room changed. The air thickened, light bent. The walls of the flame chamber creaked under pressure no one else could feel.Elara stood at the edge of the threshold, unable to enter, not because of fear. Because the silver flame wouldn’t let her. It pulsed around Aryn like a womb of memory—protective, reverent, alive.“She’s not just bonded to it,” Lyra whispered. “She is it.”Lerder’s voice was low. “She’s not.”At dawn, the tremors started. Not earthquakes. Memory quakes. Across the border settlements, people began reliving moments that never belonged to them. One hunter dropped to his knees and swore he remembered giving birth.A child drew Elara’s face on the walls of his hut—over and over—eyes bleeding silver, mouth stitched shut in black ink. And worst of all? In the icebound easte

THE LOCK AND THE LIE “If a lie is repeated long enough, it becomes the truth. But what if the truth is remembered?”Elara woke up gasping. The mirror was gone from her flesh—but something else remained. A burning line down her spine, coiled like a serpent.It glowed when she moved.It whispered when she breathed.And it wasn’t hers.“Lerder?” she called, trembling. “Where are you—”She turned toward the doorway of their chamber—And stopped breathing.Lerder stood in shadow, watching her. His skin pulsed with faint silver veins. And his eyes… Not gold. Not a wolf. But prophet-white.“Elara,” he said.But it wasn’t his voice. Not quite. Like it had been edited. Rearranged.“What happened to you?” she whispered.He stepped forward. The scent was still him. But beneath it—She smelled memory. Not his. Ancient. Heavy. Wrong.He touched her cheek. The heat of his skin flickered with cold. “I saw the key,” he whispered. “I saw what it opens.”“And?” Her voice broke.He leaned closer. “It’s y

THE FIRST AND THE FORGOTTEN“Before the flame chose her, silence made her. And now silence wants her back.”A Name Like a ScarThe name Nyrah echoed through the halls like a ghost. No one spoke it directly.They still called her "Elara" out of habit.Out of fear.Out of denial.But the flame no longer responded to Elara. It had chosen Nyrah and it was hungry for the rest of her.“Say it,” she whispered to herself as she stood before the basin.“Say my name.”The silver-gold flame coiled in the air—unjudging, unfeeling, eternal. “Say it.”She didn’t. Because every time she tried, the world around her warped—walls twisted, floors shimmered like mirage-water, and her shadow began to flicker like it didn’t belong to her anymore.The name was power. The name was a key, and someone else wanted to use it.Three flame pillars rose in the sacred circle that morning. Not summoned by the flame itself.One red.One white.One dark—void-black, stitched with stars that shouldn’t be moving.“What ar

THE ECHO CROWN“You can’t wear a crown forged from echoes without hearing the screams of everything you left behind.”The sky Is whole, but the ground Is not. Three days had passed since the sealing. The rift in the sky had closed but on the ground, fractures remained. The sanctuary still stood—but many who lived there didn’t know why.Names slipped through fingers like sand. Maps redrew themselves. Two elders woke one morning and could not remember who Nyrah was—or that she had once been Elara.And yet…They followed her anyway. Something in their bones knew. Even if their minds did not.He lay in the infirmary beneath the flame chamber. The sigil on his chest pulsed faintly—like a sleeping heartbeat that belonged to someone else.Lyra monitored him day and night. “He’s not fading,” she said. “But he’s not recovering either. The Prophet’s seal is holding—but I don’t know how long it will want to stay held.”Nyrah sat beside his bed. Holding his hand, every night, every breath he took

THE VOICE AND THE VOID“When the god rests, her shadow must learn to walk without her.”The Flame Refuses to RiseMorning came with no fire. The basin remained still—dormant for the fifth day. Even those who had bonded with the fractured pieces of Nyrah’s divided flame now felt nothing.It was not death. It was absent.Lerder stood before the circle, palm outstretched. His voice was heavy when he finally spoke. “It’s not asleep anymore. It’s gone.”She didn't need the flame to tell her the truth.In her bones.In her voice.In the crown that no longer floated above her. When she touched the stone ledge of the flame chamber, it was cool. She sat alone in the center, eyes closed.A single question pulsed in her: “What am I now, without the thing I was built to carry?And the only answer that came…Was silence. Without the flame, the sanctuary splintered. Not in violence—yet—but in faith. Some believed the god had left because the world no longer deserved her.Others believed she had neve