All Chapters of THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The moon hung heavy and luminous over the peaks of the Silverthorn Mountains, its light spilling across the darkened land like a river of liquid silver. The group had returned back to Zarek's pack where a full moon ceremony is held. Zarek's pack had gathered in the sacred clearing deep within their territory, surrounded by towering pines and ancient stones etched with the runes of their ancestors. The air was thick with anticipation, magic, and something far older than either—destiny.Veyra stood at the edge of the circle, cloaked in a flowing white robe that shimmered like starlight against her pale skin. Her long silver hair, now streaked with hints of frost from the grief and pain she had borne, cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight. She wasn't just a wolf anymore. Not just a daughter or a mate. Not even just the white wolf. She was something more. Tonight would mark it.Zarek stood beside her, tall and silent, his presence a grounding force as always. His dark

The wind carried it first.A rumor, a whisper, not loud enough to shake foundations—but enough to stir the embers already burning in the hearts of those who feared her. It spread in the undercurrent of breathless messengers and cold letters sealed in black wax. From crumbling ruins where the Order of the Obsidian Fang gathered in huddled cloaks, to taverns where spies leaned close and exchanged coin for secrets, the words traveled."When the sixth bond forms, the world ends."The prophecy moved like a disease, infecting the tongues of the weak and feeding the fire of the faithful. It made its way to Zarek's land, to the Nightveil Pack, where warriors kept watch along mountain ridges and magic pulsed in the veins of the moon-kissed soil.But none of that had reached Veyra yet.Not as she stood barefoot in the Nightveil forest clearing, staring up at the silver moon with its perfect, silent eye. Her white hair, braided at the sides and left loose down her back, caught the breeze. Her fi

The night air was thick with tension, the kind that slithered into bones and refused to be shaken off. Fog clung low to the forest floor outside the borders of Nightveil, obscuring the trees in a silvery veil that shimmered under the crescent moon. Wolves patrolled the perimeter in silence, eyes sharp, ears attuned to every snapping twig and rustling leaf.It was Jon who first noticed them.Three figures stood at the edge of the woods, just beyond the boundary runes etched into the soil—hooded, unmoving, their forms cloaked in deep midnight robes that absorbed the moonlight. Their presence radiated wrongness, like a cold breath against the back of the neck. Jon didn't blink, didn't speak. He simply watched. And when he reached for his blade, they vanished as silently as they had come—no sound, no scent left behind.Except for one thing.An obsidian fang.Sharp. Pristine. Gleaming with residual power.Jon's growl was low and guttural as he crouched to retrieve it, fingers brushing the

The moon hung low and golden above the treetops, casting a solemn glow over Nightveil Pack's northern ridge. The forest was silent, hushed by the weight of secrets, as if even the winds were listening.Veyra walked quietly beside Lioren, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. They'd spent the evening on patrol, but neither of them had spoken much. Something about Lioren tonight felt heavy. Not just tired, not just worn—burdened.When they reached the edge of the cliff, where the trees gave way to an open view of the valley below, Veyra stopped. The grass bent gently beneath her boots. "You've been quiet," she said softly.Lioren stood a few paces away, staring into the distance. His dark hair stirred in the breeze, and though his back was to her, she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the war raging inside him. Slowly, he turned to face her. His eyes were stormy and solemn."I need to tell you something," he said.Veyra nodded, giving him space to speak, not pressuring him. Sh

The dungeon beneath Nightveil's fortress reeked of damp stone and iron. The torches flickered along the curved walls, casting long, eerie shadows. Veyra walked in silence, her footsteps measured, her mind storming. The truth had cut deep: the spy with the pack had been caught. It was not a warrior or a disgruntled elder—but a young healer named Tansa.Tansa had been gentle once, her hands known for soothing burns and healing fevered children. Now, she was chained in the dark, whispering things to the stone walls as though they were old friends. Zarek's guards stood on either side of the cell door, stiff with unease. No one dared speak first. Not even the guards liked being assigned to this part of the fortress anymore—not since Tansa had started laughing at nothing."She's been talking to the shadows," one muttered as Veyra approached."I'll go in alone," Veyra said."My Luna—" the guard started.Veyra's eyes glowed faintly silver. "Alone."The door creaked open. The stench of blood a