Shifter Deathbound Curse のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

The hand moved slowly, almost gracefully, its long fingers reaching through the air like vines searching for light. The tattoo on its wrist, the symbol of the Aethelford bloodline, throbbed softly with a foul, silvery glow.Siron rolled to the side. The ritual knife in his hand felt like a plastic toy, but his survival instinct was stronger. His blood raced, and the Soul Flower on his chest flared to life. The heat was no longer a sensation of pain, but of pure fury."You’re not my brother," Siron spat, scrambling to his feet. "And I just had my apartment renovated!"The stupid joke slipped out automatically, but it was exactly what snapped him back to his senses. He was no longer the naive student who was scared to death. He was a Guardian, or whatever he was, who had fought a dream god and won.The darkness behind the shattered door sighed. "Humor... so typical of your bloodline. Always masking fear with filthy jokes."The hand clawed at the floor, leaving deep gouges in the laminat

The message burned on Siron’s phone screen. The photo was too vivid to be an illusion: the old treehouse by the Grend River, where he and Kit often spent their afternoons, with a shadowy figure standing before its small door. The silhouette looked exactly like Siron, the height, the proportions, even the way he stood with a slight slouch. But from the figure’s hands, silver flower vines spiraled out, glowing softly in the descending darkness of the night.Below it, the sentence: "Your choices are narrowing, Guardian.""Kit’s calling again," Elara reported, her face still ashen. "He says the figure isn’t moving, just standing there staring at the path. But... there’s something else.""Something else what?" Siron asked, his voice sharper than he intended."He says the air around the treehouse feels 'split.' Like two realities are overlapping. And he hears voices, the sound of many people whispering, but one of them sounds just like yours."Gideon stood up with great effort, leaning agai

The woman, Niamh, descended the stairs of light with a graceful step, yet every footprint left a golden shimmering trace upon the earth. Her eyes, green as spring emeralds, were an exact match for Morat’s. But there was something older within them, a sorrow that had settled like dust upon a relic.“Niamh,” Siron repeated, trying to process it all. “You said a distant cousin?”“Your bloodline and mine diverged three hundred years ago,” Niamh explained, her voice soft but clear, like the chime of a small bell. “When the first Aethelford betrayed the covenant, his twin brother, my ancestor, refused to take part. As punishment, he was imprisoned in the 'between,' and his descendants were hidden away, dismissed as an insignificant side branch.” She looked at Elara. “But our blood was never truly thinned. Only... disguised.”Elara stepped forward, her face a mixture of disbelief and recognition. “I always felt like something was wrong. Those rituals... they felt like remembering, not learni

Kaelan’s blade slashed through the air, aimed straight for Elara’s throat. Time slowed. Siron saw the glint of metal, the hatred burning in Kaelan’s eyes, and the shock frozen on Elara’s face. His body moved before his mind could even process the command, a blind leap, shoving Elara aside.Heat. Sharpness. Then, the agony.The blade grazed Siron’s shoulder, tearing through his jacket and skin. His blood, the blood of Cathal, spattered onto the stone floor, mingling with Elara’s.The effect was instant and devastating.Light exploded from the platform, flooding the room with a brilliant white-gold radiance. The images on the walls didn't just move; they came to life. Sounds, scents, and emotions overwhelmed Siron’s senses.He saw it all:Two men stood in this very room, three hundred years ago. They were identical, twin brothers. Cathal with his dark brown eyes (his eyes, Siron’s eyes). Cian with eyes of green (Morat’s eyes). They were holding hands, facing a stone gate on the platform

The smell of burning dragged Siron back to memories he never wanted to revisit, the black smoke of smoldering silver flowers, the screams of people trapped in dreams, the metallic scent of blood and fear. But this time, the scent was different: more chemical, sharp, like burning electrical wires mixed with ozone.“Luna’s lab,” Elara muttered, standing beside him, her face pale under the moonlight. The small silver flower in their soil was now withered, its stem blackened as if scorched from the inside. “He’s siphoning its energy.”The bond between them throbbed with alarm. Siron could feel Elara’s heart racing in perfect sync with his own. “We have to go there.”“Wait!” Gideon hurried toward them, followed by Stefan, who was already equipped with a flashlight and an emergency bag. “The two of you are injured and exhausted. Let the Order handle this.”“The Order doesn’t know how to deal with a ley line siphon,” Siron countered, already moving toward the path leading to the campus. “And