All Chapters of THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The world stood on the edge of a blade.The fields surrounding Nightveil were packed with wolves from every direction—packs that had once been rivals, enemies, strangers. Now they gathered under a single cause, their banners snapping in the sharp wind, their faces grim beneath the setting sun.The battle drums began to pound—deep, resonant beats that echoed like a second heartbeat across the land.Veyra walked among them, her steps measured and sure.A white cloak wrapped around her shoulders, stark against the black soil.Her hair lifted in the wind, and her silver eyes shone like twin moons.Whispers followed her passage—words of awe, of reverence, of desperate hope.Some bowed their heads as she passed.Others dropped to one knee.All of them felt it: the shift in the air, the weight of destiny pressing down.She was no longer simply Veyra Hale.She was something greater now.She was the Moonbound Queen—the last light in a world crumbling toward darkness.In the heart of the camp,

The world split open with a sound like a thousand bells shattering at once.Veyra and Nyros were thrown through the rift, carried on tides of unstable magic, crashing into a realm where the sky bled silver and the earth groaned beneath them.Realms collided around them—shards of forgotten worlds spinning in a maelstrom of chaos. Mountains floated upside down; rivers ran backward through burning forests. The ground cracked and reformed with every breath.Veyra's paws hit the shifting earth, her muscles screaming from the unnatural pull of gravity. The sword—the Moonblade—glowed so fiercely it nearly blinded her, sensing the unraveling of everything it was sworn to protect.Nyros rose before her, his form flickering between man and shadow, his mouth twisted in a grin that did not belong to anything human."You cannot kill what is eternal," he hissed, his voice echoing through the fractured sky.Veyra didn't answer. She moved.Their clash sent out shockwaves that ripped the air apart. Bl

A beat of stunned silence—then the ground shook as hundreds of wolves slammed fists to chests or howled into the dimming sky.A chorus of defiance.A promise sealed in blood and bone.The embers of rebellion caught.And this time, Veyra swore, they would not die until the world was cleansed.As the echoes of the wolves' howls faded into the cold dusk, Veyra sheathed her sword and turned, signaling to her inner circle. Zarek, Jon, Rune, and Lioren closed in in, forming a silent shield around her as the gathering began to break into smaller groups, buzzing with renewed purpose.They moved toward the old stone hall atop the ridge—a place that once served as a council chamber in forgotten wars. Now, it would be the birthplace of the final reckoning.Inside, torches sputtered against the cracked walls, throwing wild wild shadows across the worn stone floor. A massive table, long abandoned, was pulled back into place. Maps, scrolls, and hastily drawn battle schematics were spread across it.

The scout stumbled into camp just as the sun was dying behind a shroud of storm clouds.Blood streaked his armor. His left arm hung useless at his side, and his face was gaunt, as if he had ridden through nightmares rather than forest and field.Jon caught him before he could fall and barked for a healer. But even before the herbs were applied, the scout rasped the words they had all been dreading:"We found them," he whispered. "The Order... they've made their den in the Black Citadel."The council was called that same night.Beneath the battered banners of the Moonbound and allied packs, Veyra sat at the head of the war table, flanked by Jon, Zarek, Rune, and Lioren. The air inside the great tent was thick with tension, the flames of the central brazier flickering low.The scout, now bandaged but pale, stood trembling as he spoke."It's worse than we feared," he said, voice hoarse. "The Citadel... it's alive. It feeds on death."He shuddered, as if recalling something unspeakable."

Dawn bled over the horizon, the first light a cruel promise of what would come. The army stood at the edge of the Black Citadel's cursed grounds, the air heavy with the scent of ash and ozone. The earth beneath their feet was cracked, a dry, hollow thing that barely held the weight of their boots. Before them, the Citadel loomed, dark and foreboding, like a nightmare solidified into stone.The siege had begun.Veyra stood at the front, her figure a stark contrast against the twisted, jagged silhouette of the fortress. Her cloak fluttered behind her, the silver gleam of her sword—the Moonblade—catching the faint light of the early morning. The blade hummed with an almost imperceptible pulse, as if it, too, was waiting for the storm to break. A storm of fury, of vengeance, of everything that had been lost.Her heart, no longer weighed down by the sadness of Zevi's absence, burned with a quiet rage that had become her constant companion. This was no longer about just fighting. This was a