All Chapters of THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The wolves around her were tired, the scent of blood and smoke beginning to weigh on their spirits. There was no end to the storm-beasts, and though they fought with all their might, the dark magic emanating from the Citadel itself was slowly sapping their strength. The wounded cried out for help, but the healers could not reach them fast enough. The warriors were falling faster than they could be replaced.Veyra's breath came in ragged gasps as she swung her sword again, slicing through another beast's leg, causing it to collapse in a heap of shattered bone. But just as quickly, it was replaced by another."We need to fall back," Jon shouted, his voice strained as he pulled his bowstring taut and let another flaming arrow fly into the heart of a storm-beast. His gaze met Veyra's, his eyes filled with concern. "This isn't working. We're losing too many."But Veyra refused to give ground. She would not let the Citadel's darkness claim their future. Not now, not when they were so close

The darkness of the night wrapped itself around the camp like a heavy shroud, the only light coming from the dim flickering of campfires. Veyra's eyes were sharp, the silver gleam in her gaze cold and unyielding as she stood before the warriors Jon had gathered. There were fewer of them than she would have liked—only a handful of loyal soldiers still untainted by the whispers of the Order—but their faces were resolute. They knew the stakes.The tension was palpable, thick in the air. The sickness was not just in their bodies; it had spread into their spirits as well. The warriors before her were the last defense against total collapse, and she knew that even now, their hearts were fragile. If they could not stop the rot from spreading, the entire army would fall to its knees.Jon stood beside her, his arms crossed as he surveyed the assembled wolves. His face was shadowed with concern, but there was determination in his eyes. He had always been the heart of the army, the one to rally

The Black Citadel loomed before them, a silent and oppressive fortress that seemed to consume the very light of the world. Its jagged towers pierced the sky like the claws of a monster, its dark walls standing tall against the encroaching dawn. The siege had been a failure, but Veyra knew the war was far from over. She had felt the pulse of the land, the shifting currents of power that ran beneath the surface, and there was something more to the Citadel than mere stone and mortar. There was something deeper—something ancient—and she could feel its pull in the marrow of her bones.Yet, there was something else, a flicker of hope. A whisper that had reached her across the void of the Citadel's cursed grounds. The Crescent Rebellion—a group of prisoners who had fought the Order from within their very cells. These rebels, those who had been imprisoned by the Order for their defiance, had not been broken. They had survived, hidden away in the shadowed depths of the Citadel, their resistanc

The night sky above the Black Citadel was bathed in a crimson glow, the blood-red moon casting an eerie light over the battlefield. It seemed as if the heavens themselves had come alive, an omen for what was to come. The air was thick with anticipation, every breath the wolves took echoing with the weight of history. The long wait was over; the final battle had begun.Veyra stood at the front of her army, her cloak billowing in the gusts of wind that whipped around her like the fury of the storm itself. Her hand rested on the hilt of the Sword of Zevi, its blade shimmering with moonfire—a weapon that had seen countless battles, but none like the one she was about to lead. The sword was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of everything they had fought for. Of the sacrifices that had been made. Of the blood that had been spilled.Beside her, Zarek stood tall, his presence unwavering, his eyes locked on the distant silhouette of the Citadel. Rune and Lioren flanked her on either sid

The Citadel was collapsing, the walls crumbling under the weight of its centuries of corruption. The very ground beneath their paws trembled with the sound of its death throes. But Veyra did not falter. She had come too far to let this cursed place escape its reckoning.Her closest warriors—Zarek, Rune, and Lioren—were at her side, their presence a constant source of strength and focus. The Black Citadel, though shattered at its gates, still held a treacherous core, and Veyra knew that this was where the battle would truly be decided. They had broken through the walls, but now they would face the heart of the darkness that had spawned this nightmare.The hallways stretched out before them, vast and dark, filled with echoes that seemed to twist the very air. The Citadel's heart pulsed with malevolent energy, and Veyra could feel the oppressive weight of it on her shoulders. She gripped the hilt of the Sword of Zevi tightly, the moonfire that had once burned with clarity now flickering