Marked by Midnight のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

ShawnColin and I quietly descend the stairs, a little bit of the tension from our earlier conversations, still lingering between us. The moment my foot hits the next step, I hear Alice’s voice, sharp and frantic, cutting through the hallway like a blade.“Eva!”My pulse kicks up instantly, and I increase my pace, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time. “Alice? What happened?”She spins around, eyes wide, scanning every corner of the entrance hall as if Eva would magically appear from the shadows. “I’m looking for Eva. We were practicing together in the training room just minutes ago. My subordinate called me out for a quick report. When I got back inside… she was gone.”Colin steps forward, frowning. “Maybe she went up to her room briefly?”Alice shakes her head hard, strands of hair sticking to her damp forehead. “No way. I was standing right in front of the door the entire time I was talking to him. There’s no way she'd have gone up without me seeing h

Shawn A large oak table dominated the meeting room, our usual spot for meetings like this one. Its polished surface glistens with the shine aided by the muted light that filters through the tall windows. I'm sitting on the North side, my back, ramrod straight against the heavy chair carved with runes of our territory. Colin claims the West, Kaal lounges on the South, and Maureen holds the Central position with her usual composed grace—yes, a woman, and one who had earned that seat through blood and cunning. A cunning very much deserved. She used it like Alice uses her blades –masterfully. The East spot remains glaringly empty, a vacant wound in our circle of five. It's been like this for years, we've gotten used to it. The servants had just finished setting down steaming cups of tea and slipped out quietly, the heavy door closing behind the last one. In the air, the faint scent of herbs and polished wood, of course, carries with it a sense of nostalgia of

EvaIt’s my first time in the library, and I don’t think I was prepared for how it would feel.The air is thick with the scent of old paper and ink, something dry and ancient that settles into my lungs and wraps around me, musty, earthy and strangely comforting. Shelves stretch endlessly, towering and packed with books that looks like they’ve been here for centuries. Silence covers the entire hall, broken only by the occasional rustle of a book's page open on the table by the window or the distant creak of wooden shelves. There’s a serenity here that felt almost sacred, urging you to just stay calm and blend into the peacefulness. Shawn had asked me to meet him in the library after I’d requested to see him. I choose a corner near one of the tall arched windows, where soft daylight filters through patterned glass and colourful, faint paint streaks strewn across the long oak table. I sit with my hands folded in my lap, trying to calm the nervous flutter in

Eva The night is darker than I remember, or maybe I had simply never paid enough attention before. The path that leads from Ophelia's place is almost empty now, the usual quiet replaced by distant, haunting howls that rise and fall as if in union, but at the same time scattered. I haven’t noticed them this much either, until tonight. Probably because I have spent most of my time locked away inside the mansion, and the few times I had stepped out, it had always been during the day—never when the wolves come alive under the moon.The drive back from Ophelia's shrine is too quiet. The only interruptions being the occasional gentle squeezes Shawn gives my hand whenever he senses my thoughts drifting too far. I keep replaying Ophelia’s words in my head, turning them over like fragile glass, afraid they might shatter if I examine them too closely.“The howls,” I say suddenly, breaking the silence… and my thoughts. “I’ve never noticed them before.”“Yes. That’s bec

EvaThe wooden sticks crack against each other in rapid succession, the impact vibrating up my arms.“Again,” Alice commands, her voice sharp and steady. “Keep your elbows in. Don’t telegraph the swing.”It's probably a good thing she'd given me a whole day to rest. I adjust my grip, sweat already slicking my palms, and lunge forward. Our makeshift training daggers meet with a loud thwack, and I'm genuinely surprised there's no crack on either of them. I wonder what they're made of. Pivoting just like she had taught me, I try to hook her weapon away, but she twists at the last second and sends my stick flying from my hand. It clatters against the far wall.“Better,” she says, though her tone doesn’t soften. “Again. Faster this time. Your wolf’s strength means nothing if your form is sloppy.”I retrieve the stick, breathing hard. My muscles burn, but there’s something satisfying in the repetition, in pushing myself under her relentless instruction. We fall back