All Chapters of THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The morning was still, a thick mist clinging to the treetops like a shroud. The silence was heavy, almost reverent. Veyra stood at the edge of the clearing, heart pounding as she looked across the field at Zarek. His eyes—those storm-cloud grays rimmed in silver—met hers without a flicker of doubt. He was always calm, steady, but there was a tension in his stance today. A readiness."Again," he said, voice low but commanding.Veyra's muscles ached, her body sore from days of relentless training. Zarek hadn't gone easy on her—not once. And she hadn't asked him to. This wasn't about gentleness. It was about survival. She could feel it now, in her bones, in her blood—something ancient, something waking.A wind swept through the trees as she shifted her stance. Her fingers curled into fists. She let the air fill her lungs, deeper than breath, down to her soul. Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, wild and restless. Zarek circled slowly, his presence like gravity—pulling at her, testing h

The sky was veiled in twilight when Rune found her again—alone, at the edge of the western ridge, where the air smelled of stone and storm. Veyra stood with her arms crossed over her chest, the wind tugging at her hair as though urging her toward something unseen."You've decided," Rune said, voice low.Veyra didn't look at him, not at first. She had spent the entire day chasing down every thought, every worry. But the weight in her chest was no longer fear—it was purpose."I'm going," she said. "We leave tonight."Rune gave a single nod. "Then we go in silence. No farewells. No trail."But the night had ears.⸻They had planned to slip away quietly. Rune had scouted a path through the western gorge, one only known to the descendants of the old bloodlines. The journey to the ancient temple was treacherous—haunted by storms, landslides, and myths of creatures twisted by old magic. But within that temple, buried beneath centuries of dust and stone, lay the truth of her bloodline. Answer

Days had passed since the journey to the ancient temple, yet the echoes of what had transpired lingered like shadows at the corners of Veyra's mind. The air in the Moonfang territory felt heavier now, charged with something that had no name but made her bones restless. Her mates were quieter, too, subdued after the near-violent clash that had marked the temple's end. Zarek and Kael no longer spoke unless necessary. Lioren kept his distance. Rune observed more than he engaged, and Zevi—sweet, soft-hearted Zevi—tried to patch the silence with light conversation and hesitant smiles.But Veyra? Veyra was still listening to the wind.It came at dawn, the letter. Not carried by a raven or sent with a scout—no, it appeared like a whisper at the doorstep. A scroll, old and curled, sealed in wax that shimmered faintly silver under the morning sun. Elias was the one who found it. He had stepped outside just before breakfast, a mug of bitterroot tea in hand, and returned moments later, his brow

The scent of burning sage lingered in the wind, curling softly through the Moonfang woods as dusk painted the sky in shades of indigo and bruised crimson. Though the sickness had begun to wane—halted, for now, by the healers' relentless efforts and Maelin's ancient remedies—unease hung thick in the air. Veyra stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the horizon with narrowed eyes, arms folded against her chest. The wolves around her had begun to stir again, the worst of the fever broken, but the questions remained, clawing at the back of her mind.She had caused this. Or at least, her bond had. The fifth bond. Zarek's bond.Guilt had rooted itself deep inside her bones, but she hadn't let it show. Not when the young collapsed in spasms. Not when the elders whispered of curses, dark omens, and fated ruin. Not even when Elias had pulled her aside in private, his expression unreadable, his silence louder than anything he could've said.Now, with the sickness subdued—if only temporaril

A storm rolled in with the dusk—slow, ominous, and thick with tension that pressed down on the Moonfang territory like a vice. The sky darkened in shades of gray and purple, distant thunder rumbling as if the world itself were bracing for what was to come.Veyra stood by the edge of the ridge overlooking the valley, her white hair tousled by the wind. She hadn't spoken since her shift—the first full transformation into her true white wolf form had left her more than physically changed. Something inside her had awakened, ancient and powerful. It coiled beneath her skin like electricity, humming in tune with the storm.Her five mates lingered nearby, each of them unsettled in his own way. They had all witnessed her transformation. They had all felt the tremor of the earth and the pulse of raw, primal power when her paws struck the ground for the first time.But none of them could sense what she did now—the impending doom creeping closer like the long shadow of death.Behind her, the doo