THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

The air was thick with tension as Veyra stood alone at the edge of the clearing, the wind pulling her long, dark hair in wild directions, as if the very earth itself was stirring in response to the dark force that had arrived.Behind her, the camp was in disarray. Her mates—her pack—were scattered, trying to pull themselves together after the earth had split open, the black fissure opening like a wound in the world, giving birth to something impossible. Something wrong. Something she could feel in the marrow of her bones.Zarek's voice echoed in her mind, a sharp reminder of his protective presence. Stay with me. Don't drift away. Focus on me.But it wasn't him she heard in her soul just now.In the silence of the night, Veyra had heard the whisper again—only this time, it was clearer. Louder. More insistent. She felt the words flood her mind, as if they had been waiting for this moment to strike."You were made for me."Her breath hitched, and the air around her grew impossibly colde

The wind howled over the ridges of Nightveil as if mourning something not yet lost. But Veyra felt it—bone deep and lingering. The tremor beneath her skin had not ceased since she first saw him... the Sixth. Nyros. His name slithered in her mind like smoke, twisting around her thoughts until she could no longer tell where she ended and he began.She stood alone at the edge of the cliffs beyond the training fields, arms wrapped tightly around herself as the wind whipped her silver hair in wild directions. Her breath came shallow. The moon above was fractured by dark clouds, casting broken light over the valley. For days now, her senses had been slipping—visions flickering at the edge of her sight, voices curling through her ears like secrets too old to hold.And tonight... he walked through her mind again."Do you see now?" a voice purred through the shadows of her thoughts. "What we could become?"Veyra squeezed her eyes shut, fingernails digging into her palms until she drew blood. Y

The night was thick with frost, the kind that clung to every breath like a warning. Jon Hale stood at the edge of Maelin's ruined study, the shattered remains of her spellbooks scattered beneath his boots. Most had burned in the Order's first raid, their ashes swept away in the chaos that followed—but not all. One leather-bound tome had remained hidden, wedged behind a false panel in the stone hearth. It reeked of wild magic and memory, the kind of ancient knowledge Maelin had kept even from Elias.Jon's fingers trembled as he flipped the brittle pages. Symbols danced in ink and blood—some faded with time, others pulsing faintly with enchantment. His eyes narrowed, locking onto the prophecy written in a trembling, half-mad scrawl:"When the five are bound, the sixth will rise.Born not of love, but of the shadow's lie.The mirror soul shall seek her light—And if the white wolf chooses wrong... the world shall die."His breath caught. "The mirror soul..."Nyros.He was the sixth. Not

Veyra had decided to sneak off to go find the mirror stone on her own. Unknown to her Lioren had seen her and followed through. The entrance to the ruins of Fenwyre loomed before them—massive, vine-draped pillars carved with glyphs older than any spoken tongue. Veyra felt the air shift as she stepped across the threshold. It was like walking into memory. The stone beneath her bare feet pulsed faintly with a magic not her own, yet not entirely foreign either.Lioren trailed her, favoring his right leg where an earlier skirmish had left a nasty gash. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his blade, but even steel felt pitiful here. The walls hummed. The shadows moved. Whispers crawled along the edges of Veyra's thoughts.They were not alone."Veyra," Lioren said softly, "are you sure this is it?"She nodded, eyes tracing the runes above a shattered archway. "It calls to me. The Mirror Stone is here. I can feel it... like a pulse under my skin."He didn't argue. He never did. Not w

Veyra's skin prickled as if charged with stormlight. The moon hung swollen and low outside the stone-framed windows of Nightveil's keep, casting silver-blue veins across the floor. Every sound was louder, sharper—the quiet tick of her own heartbeat, the faint hum of magic straining against her bones.She paced the edge of her chamber, breath unsteady, hands trembling at her sides. She hadn't slept. Couldn't. Something unnatural coursed through her—something both foreign and achingly familiar. The false bond with Nyros was no longer just whispering in her head; it was pulling at her magic, tangling it with desire so deep it burned.She had tried to meditate, to silence it, but nothing helped. Every attempt made the need worse. Her power rippled beneath her skin like waves begging for release.The bond with her true mates remained—warm, grounding—but even that connection was fraying at the edges. Like the false tether to Nyros was unraveling all of them at once. Her breathing hitched. H