Midnight Crown의 모든 챕터: 챕터 41 - 챕터 50

The old meatpacking vault reeked of iron and ice, the air heavy with the ghosts of butchered things. Bone masks hung from rusted hooks along the walls, shadows stretching in the harsh, yellow light. This was Várgr territory—neutral ground only because everyone in the city had too much to lose.Eirwen sat at the battered steel table, the scars on its surface catching every flicker of her nerves. Her heart thudded with equal parts dread and fury. She hated this place, hated what it represented: the illusion of rules, the charade of peace. But mostly, she hated being bartered, a commodity to be passed and signed over like a crate of smuggled arms.Marsel, the wolf king, presided at the head of the table—gray suit, wolfish smile, hands folded with predator’s patience. Beside him, the Widow sat poised and unbothered, all black silk and veiled calculation. Laev’s contingent waited near the rear, muscle and steel in tailored suits, but it was Domenik’s presence that truly bent the air. He st

The city’s veins were screaming.Steel rails shuddered beneath Eirwen’s boots, the air trembling as if New Eidolon’s bones were caught between breath and collapse. The corridor thrummed—stone, metal, and the ghosts of everything buried beneath the streets. Wolves paced at the edges, bone masks glinting in stuttering light. Laev soldiers checked weapons, every man tense. The Widow’s silhouette hovered near the wall, face a mask of patience and calculation.But the world felt off-kilter, as if everyone was waiting for a storm they could smell but not see.Eirwen was at the heart of it—centered, but unsteady, every sense sharpened and raw. The treaty was barely signed, the taste of Dom’s blood and her own still lingering at her wrist. She wanted to breathe, to run, to lash out, but there was nowhere to go that didn’t carry the city’s scent.Marsel’s voice boomed, echoing against the steel. “This alliance holds. The Pack stands down. The Well is safe.”Dom stood a step behind her, close e

The Book of Bone & The King Who Lost Her---I. THE BOOK OF BONERecovered from the Várgr Archive — Fifth Generation CopyClassification: Forbidden Lore — For Alpha Eyes OnlyBefore kings carved their silence into the city,before shadows learned to walk upright,before lions forced crowns upon their skulls,there were only two truths in the old world:Blood remembers.Bone obeys.The Bone Well was not constructed—it was uncovered.A hollow formed by ancient pressure in the spine of New Eidolon’s oldest fault line,older than the Covenant,older than the Várgr Pack,older even than Laev’s line of kings.Those who entered did not seek dominion.They sought identity,for the Well reveals not ambition, but truth.Bone has never cared for the aspirations of the living.Only their lineage.---THE PURPOSELong before syndicates and crowns,the Bone Well served as the city’s first measure of worth.Not strength.Not loyalty.Not will.But resonance—the vibration of blood against the city’

Bonus Chapter — Domenik’s POV: She was still trembling when I let her go. Not from cold. Not from fear. From something worse. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes — wide and burning. Her pulse thudded beneath the skin of her throat like it was counting down to something. Something final. And when I stepped back, she didn’t slap me. She didn’t run. She just looked at me like I’d cracked something inside her. And I had. The chamber was thick with heat. Red lights stuttered against steel. The sirens had stopped, but the silence they left behind was louder. Too loud. I could still feel her body against mine, the way her hands curled into my coat. She wasn’t fighting. Not really. She wanted it. She wanted me. And that was the danger. Because now? So did I. Lucianus stared at me from the glass wall. Not truly there — just the version of him I kept in reflections. In memory. The voice that never leaves. “You broke the law,” he whispered. “You let her in.” I sat. Hard. Fingers p

The library was a tomb for secrets. Shadows hung in the air, thick with the scent of dust and burned paper, old ledgers stacked like headstones along every wall. Eirwen had expected cold when the Widow called for her, but this place felt alive—a place where memory was weapon, and every word was a wound.Domenik stood just inside the doorway, arms folded, jaw set hard as iron. He scanned every aisle, every flicker of movement, as if expecting the past itself to lunge from the dark. His presence was the only warmth she trusted.The Widow waited at the far end, her posture regal and cruel. A heavy box rested on the table between them, ancient and battered, marked with the sigils of families long since devoured. Her eyes glinted in the low light—an animal waiting to see how its prey would react.“Eirwen,” she said, voice calm, “do you know why you’re here?”Eirwen shook her head, pulse thrumming with something that wasn’t fear. She didn’t flinch when Dom’s hand settled at her waist—a clai