My Mate's Father Claimed Me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

 POV: KaelThe moment Lyra vanished, the world went quiet in a way that felt profoundly wrong, like a heart forgetting how to beat while the body remained stubbornly alive.There was no explosion. No triumphant roar from the Void, no divine thunder to mark the end of an age. The medallion sealed itself with a low, resonant sound; final and absolute, like stone sliding into place over a grave. The violent pull at my chest ceased, the wind collapsed inward, and the howling pressure that had threatened to tear reality apart simply… stopped.Lyra was there one breath and Gone the next.Ash drifted down from the bruised sky in slow, lazy spirals. The Dead Lands exhaled, not in relief, but in resignation. Shadows froze mid-motion, t

 POV: KennyEveryone looked at me like I was fragile, but something big was growing in my chest, and it did not hurt anymore.“Easy,” someone whispered.I opened my eyes.The ceiling above me was white stone, cracked like it had been put back together in a hurry. Light leaked through the cracks in thin golden lines, and for a moment, I thought the sun was broken.“Kenny?” Papa said.His voice sounded tired, not angry, tired, but the kind that comes after crying when you do not want anyone to know.I turned my head.Papa was

 POV: AidenI survived treason, exile, and guilt, but survival has never felt like forgiveness.The healers said I was lucky.They said the stones should have crushed my ribs completely, that Corvin’s magic should have stopped my heart outright, that most wolves would have bled out before help arrived. They spoke in careful tones, as if luck was something fragile they might shatter if they named it too loudly.I did not feel lucky, I woke each day with the same image burned behind my eyes.Kenny’s hand slipping from mine.I lay on a narrow cot in the west wing infirmary, staring at the cracked ceiling while the smell of ant

 POV: KaelHope returned the moment the medallion screamed.It was not a sound meant for ears, It ripped through my chest, through bone and instinct and bond, sharp enough to make my knees buckle. I staggered forward, fingers clawing at the air as the medallion at my throat flared hot, its glow warping from steady silver into something jagged and uneven.Lyra.The song was wrong.I barely had time to register the distortion before Darius struck.Steel met steel in a spray of sparks, the impact reverberating up my arms. He had been waiting for the distraction of course he had. Darius never fought fair, he fought when it hurt most.

 POV: KennyMama says brave does not mean you are not scared; it means you walk anyway.“I am scared,” I told Daddy.Kael’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, then loosened again. He did not look at me at first, he was watching the horizon, the cracked mountains of the Dead Lands stretching like broken teeth beneath a sky that never quite decided to be day or night.“You should be,” he said at last. “This place eats Kings.”I nodded slowly. “It tried to eat Mama.”His jaw clenched. “But it will not touch you.”&