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THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE
THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE
Author: Ana belle

THE WHITE WOLF IN THE SHADOWS

Author: Ana belle
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-04-28 03:13:33

The forest whispered her name.

Veyra Hale stood at the edge of the glade, her breath steady but her heart pounding like a war drum. The moon was high, silver light casting shadows that danced between the tall trees of the Moonfang Pack's outer territory. Out here, there were no curious eyes, no judgmental stares—just the wind, the trees, and the cold truth that she did not belong.

She had never belonged.

At twenty-two, Veyra's life had been one long, cautious inhale—never quite able to breathe out. She moved like a ghost among the living, careful not to draw attention, never stepping too far from the outskirts of the pack. Her family had built their home here, a cabin tucked deep in the shadows of the wild, far from the central pack village. It wasn't by chance. It was by design. By fear.

Because Veyra Hale was no ordinary wolf.

She was the white wolf—the last of her kind.

Rare. Forbidden. Hunted.

She tugged the hood of her cloak tighter around her face as the breeze stirred her long silver-blonde hair. The color was a tell, even if most dismissed it as mere genetics. But her family knew better. Her parents had told her the truth when she turned fifteen—on the night she shifted for the first time under a blood moon. Her wolf had emerged not the color of ash or night like the others in the pack, but bright, luminous white. Glowing. Otherworldly.

Her mother had wept. Her father had gone still.

They knew what it meant.

The old legends warned of her kind—white wolves bound to great power, and greater danger. And with power came fear. With fear came death.

So they hid her.

Her mother, Maelin Hale, had enchanted the entire perimeter of their home, casting protective wards in ancient tongues Veyra could never pronounce. Her father, Elias Hale, a battle-hardened beta and warrior with scars older than her, trained her to defend herself in case the wards ever failed. And Jon—her older brother, her rock—watched over her like a second shadow, never too far, always there when the nightmares came.

But hiding came with a price.

She had never played with the other pups. Never joined the pack hunts. Never shifted with the moonrise around the fire circle like the others. While they lived, she lingered.

Veyra sighed and turned back toward the cabin, the wind curling against her cheek like a cold kiss. She didn't belong, but gods, she wanted to. She wanted to run, to laugh, to feel what it was like to not be afraid. Even if just once.

Behind her, a twig snapped.

Veyra's heart leapt into her throat, her wolf rising sharply beneath her skin. It stirred like a second heart, wild and ready, the pull of the shift teasing her bones. Her muscles tensed, her breath caught—then she smelled him.

Pine. Iron. Ash.

"Veyra!"

Jon's voice cracked through the stillness like a blade, firm and sharp. He emerged from the tree line, chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. His black hair was tousled, his eyes fierce and golden. He looked like their father more with each passing year—broad, lethal, a warrior in every breath he took. But his face softened when his eyes landed on her.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he growled, stepping closer, eyes scanning the forest behind her. "You almost shifted, didn't you?"

Veyra looked away, shame flushing her cheeks. "I didn't mean to. Something startled me."

"That's not an excuse," he snapped, then quickly caught himself. His jaw flexed, and he exhaled slowly, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can't afford mistakes. Not here. Not this close to the full moon."

"I know," she whispered. "I just... needed air."

Jon's gaze softened again. "I get it. But you have to be smarter. You know the stories. If anyone finds out—"

"I'll be hunted. Killed. Cursed." She said it bitterly, her voice tight.

He flinched, just a little. "Don't say it like that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

Jon pulled her into a hug before she could pull away. He was always like this—sharp with his words, but gentle with his love. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. Here, at least, she could be herself. Even if that self was a caged bird.

They stood there for a while, the forest quieting around them. Then Jon pulled back, brushing a leaf from her hair.

"Let's go back," he said. "Mom made stew."

Veyra hesitated, her eyes lifting toward the trees again. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?"

"All the time," Jon said. "But wondering doesn't change what is. We protect you because we love you. One day, maybe that won't be necessary."

She nodded slowly, but her heart was heavy. Hope was a dangerous thing.

They walked back together in silence, side by side through the thick underbrush. The Hale family home came into view soon—a two-story cabin made of dark timber and stone, warm light spilling from the windows. It looked normal. Safe. But it was a fortress built on secrets.

Inside, Elias sat sharpening his blade near the fireplace, his presence a constant wall of strength. He didn't speak much, but his eyes met Veyra's as she entered, and she felt the quiet love in his gaze. He gave her a single nod—his way of saying, you're safe.

Maelin turned from the kitchen, her long dark curls falling around her shoulders, her eyes glowing faintly from whatever spell she'd just finished. She smiled, but it was tinged with weariness. Veyra walked to her and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.

"Were you outside?" Maelin asked softly.

Veyra hesitated, then nodded. "Just for a little while."

Maelin kissed the top of her head. "You must be careful, my heart. The world doesn't yet deserve to see who you truly are."

"I'm tired of hiding," Veyra whispered.

Maelin cupped her cheek gently. "I know. But the moon watches, and the stars remember. Your time will come."

Later that night, as Veyra lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, she felt the weight of a thousand unseen chains on her chest. She was the white wolf in the shadows. Hidden. Protected. Feared.

But something deep within her stirred, ancient and electric.

Change was coming.

She didn't know when. Or how.

But she felt it in her bones.

And so did her wolf.

Hello everyone,

Finally finally, we have our first chapter.

Thank you for taking your time to join us as we begin the journey of this amazing book.

I hope you all loved the first chapter as we finally get to meet our sweet Veyra.

Let me know your thoughts in the comment session.

Stay on your toes, this is just the beginning. There's still a whole lot to unravel, secrets, love, betrayal and many more. Be rest assured, you'll love it.

Don't forget to vote and recommend to your friends and family.

Until next time,

xoxo.

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  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   EPILOGUE- BEYOND THE BONDS

    The days that followed were nothing like the ones before.Where once there had been bloodshed and the clash of swords, there was now the soft murmur of rivers winding through fresh green fields. Where once the air had carried the scent of smoke and iron, it now smelled of wildflowers and rain-soaked earth.Veyra stood at the edge of a meadow, the long grass brushing her calves, the summer sun wrapping its golden arms around her. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the simple, perfect peace of it. Children's laughter rang out from beyond the hills where the new city was taking root — not a citadel of power, but a village of unity, a home where wolves, humans, and even those once touched by the Order's darkness could live side by side.The world had changed. They had changed it.A sharp bark of laughter caught her attention, and she turned to see Lioren chasing after a group of pups, feigning clumsiness as he let himself be tackled into the tall grass. The little ones shrieke

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE FIRTH BOND FULFILLED

    The air was thick with anticipation as the sun dipped low beneath the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the assembled packs. Veyra stood at the heart of a vast gathering, the land now cleansed of the dark remnants of the Order, bathed in the promise of a new dawn. The battlefield, once torn by bloodshed and despair, had given way to a fresh hope.This was not a coronation; it was a rebirth. For Veyra, it was the culmination of her trials, her sacrifices, and the unyielding love that had tied her to her mates and the people she now led. She stood at the center, draped in a shimmering white cloak, its edges gleaming like the moon's own light. Her face, though marked by the hardships of battle, was filled with quiet strength, the weight of leadership not as a burden, but as a duty she embraced with her whole being.Around her, the wolves stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the woman who had brought them through the darkest of times. The scent of earth and fire still lingered in th

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   DAWN OF THE RUINS

    The first light of dawn broke over the ruins of the Black Citadel, its pale rays casting long shadows over the land, where once only darkness had reigned. The ground, still scarred from the battles fought in its name, now began to stir with life. The fires had died, the dust had settled, and where the Citadel had once stood as a symbol of power and fear, now stood a new beginning—something born from the very ashes of its destruction.A new city was taking shape, but not one built on domination or conquest. This city was different. This was a city founded on unity.Veyra stood at the edge of the ruins, looking out over the land that was slowly being transformed. Where the broken stones and shattered walls had once been symbols of the Order's strength, now there was only hope. The survivors, the rebels, the packs—everyone who had fought for freedom and for a better world—were working side by side. There was no division between them now. The wounds of the past were still fresh, but they

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   A KINGDOM OF GRAVES

    The aftermath of the battle was one of devastation, a wasteland of ashes and broken stones, where the echoes of war hung heavy in the air. The Black Citadel had crumbled to dust, but it was not the only ruin left behind. The once-proud armies of the Order, those who had stood as the last bastion of darkness in the world, were now scattered across the battlefield, fallen like shattered fragments of a dream long since corrupted.Veyra stood at the center of it all, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders as she surveyed the devastation. The ground beneath her feet was scarred, the earth itself torn apart by the battles fought and won. The stench of death clung to the air, mixing with the faint scent of burnt wood and the faint remnants of magic that still lingered like the last whispers of the Wyrm's dying breath.Around her, the survivors worked in silence. Soldiers and allies alike, their faces grim, their movements mechanical, as they set about the grim task of tending

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   COLLAPSE OF THE CITADEL

    The earth trembled beneath their feet as the Wyrm's body crumbled, its essence unraveling like the last threads of a long-forgotten nightmare. Veyra stood at the heart of it all, breath ragged, her sword, the Moonblade, still glowing with a faint pulse of Zevi's spirit. The battle was over. The ancient monster that had plagued the lands for so long was no more.But the victory came at a cost.The very foundation of the Black Citadel, once a place of death and dark magic, began to shake violently. Stone walls that had withstood centuries of torment cracked and buckled, sending massive chunks of debris falling like boulders. The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay, as if the Citadel itself had been infected with the poison of the Wyrm.Veyra's heart pounded in her chest, but there was no time to savor the victory. They had destroyed the Wyrm, yes, but the Citadel was collapsing, and there were still so many left behind—those who had been enslaved by the Order, those who had

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE SWORD AND THE SOUL

    The battle intensified, a blur of flashing blades, snarling roars, and desperate, determined movements. The Wyrm, while powerful, began to show signs of weakness. It twisted and writhed, its once-unstoppable strikes slowing, faltering beneath the relentless pressure of the five warriors fighting as one.Rune and Lioren worked in perfect tandem, their movements a blur as they took advantage of every opening. Rune's strikes were precise, cutting deep into the Wyrm's rotting flesh, while Lioren's speed allowed her to dart in and out of the creature's reach, landing blows with incredible accuracy. Her movements were almost like a dance, fluid and graceful, but with the deadly precision of a wolf on the hunt.Jon was everywhere at once, his sword flashing with every strike, cutting into the Wyrm's scales with an unyielding force. He didn't hesitate, didn't give the creature a moment to recover. He kept moving, kept striking, pushing the Wyrm back with every swing.And then, Zarek, ever the

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