Dawlya’s Dragon のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

72 Deep beneath the stone chambers of the Dawlya stronghold, the council gathered. Twelve robed sorceresses stood in a perfect ring, the air humming with old magic and the scent of burning resin. Their leader, High Mother Vekhira, lifted her chin as the circle’s carved glyphs began to glow around them. “Seppa’s circle stirs,” she announced, her voice echoing. “If we act now tonight we may reclaim it before the draynor dragon girl does.” A murmur rippled through the chamber. “She is untrained,” another argued. “She cannot bind a circle of Seppa’s level. If it bonds to her violently, she will die.” “Then let it kill her,” Vekhira hissed. “But the power must be ours.” They joined hands. Power surged between them, a pulse of violet energy that crackled across the floor and struck the unclaimed Dawlya sigil etched into the center of the room, the one that had belonged to Seppa. The glyph flickered once. Then twice. Then something pushed back. Hard. A shockwave blasted outward, sna

74 Far from Draynor space, in the shadowed cavern that served as the Dawlya High Circle’s chamber, twelve figures sat around a basin of pale, shimmering water. Their joined magic pulsed like a heartbeat irritable, strained, and thinning. They had been trying for hours to seize what Seppa left behind. They had failed. The surface of the basin rippled violently, then went black… Then blazed violet. “Impossible…” whispered Elder Maarith, fingers trembling above the water. “She claimed it?” another breathed. “No,” corrected the High Matron, her voice sharp with fear and fury. “We attempted to take the Circle. We pulled its threads, we tried to sever its anchor. But the Circle did not come to us.” The basin pulsed again this time with the unmistakable silhouette of wings. “It went to her.” The council recoiled. “That girl?” “That half-trained whelp?” “That soldier?” The High Mother slammed her palm to the table, cracking the stone. “She is no whelp. She is Seppa’s chosen h

76 Brie and Trace dismissed the last of the guards, waited for the doors of the council chamber to seal, and only then let the silence fall heavy between them. For several long breaths, neither spoke. The enormity of the situation pressed in from every direction: magic, politics, bloodlines, alliances, enemies, a daughter they’d only just gotten back. Brie rubbed her temples. “Trace… a Circle Keeper. Your daughter is now a Circle Keeper.” Trace dropped into his chair, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. “A Circle Keeper of Seppa’s circle, Brie. The darkest one. And she accepted it without knowing what it would do to her.” “She accepted it because Lees was hurt,” Brie murmured. “And because she’s like you.” Trace huffed. “Then maybe she should’ve inherited my throne instead of the power of a cult that’s been trying to kill her.” Brie shot him a look. “Now is not the time.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The Dawlya council already tried to claim the circle. They failed. They

78 Lights-out had passed an hour ago. The barracks were quiet breathing, shifting bunks, and the low hum of ventilation. Avi lay on her cot staring up at the dark ceiling, too alert to sleep, too drained to think. Her ribs still ached from earlier drills, and her magic… her magic felt wrong. Not dangerous. Not wild. Just… present. Like it was waiting for something. She rolled to her side and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Chance’s training had left her trembling half from exertion, half from the truth he had admitted so calmly: “You’re not hosting the Circle, Avi. It’s choosing you.” She squeezed her eyes shut. I didn’t choose it. But the Circle didn’t seem to care. Her pulse steadied. The bunk across from her creaked as Lees shifted in sleep. The barracks door clicked softly as the night guard passed by. Then… A whisper. Not sound. Not thought. A pressure, like a breath against the inside of her skull. Avi sat bolt upright. “No,” she whispered into the dark. “

80 The barracks were too quiet. Avi had barely finished stabilizing her breathing. Chance's emergency training had drained every ounce of strength from her when she realized the silence outside her door wasn’t normal. Wing Corp barracks were never silent. Even at night, someone was always sparring, cleaning gear, cursing Kael, something. This silence meant something else. She sat up, still trembling from the aftershock of the Circle’s attempt to speak, and listened. Whispers. “Did you see her eyes?” “No Wing should have that kind of magic.” “She’s Dawlya.” “No, she’s the Circle Keeper now.” “That’s worse.” Her throat tightened. Then the whispers shifted. “Commander Thomas will never allow her on active wings. ” “Verek said the Queen is already involved.” “We need to keep our distance. If the Circle takes her…” “She killed a councilman, didn’t she?” A slow rage built in her chest. I didn’t kill Ravier, she thought. I saved Puc, Linka. But it didn’t matter. Percep