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ECHOES OF A CURSE

Author: Ana belle
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-28 03:34:27

The full moon hovered like a glowing sentinel above the Moonfang Pack's territory, casting a silver sheen across the sacred grounds nestled deep within the woods. The trees swayed with a ghostly hush as if whispering secrets to the stars. The air buzzed with anticipation—an unspoken energy that crackled beneath the solemn stillness of the ritual night.

Veyra stood cloaked in the crowd, heart pounding, her eyes trained on the flickering fire at the center of the moon-circle. Though she wore a hood that shadowed her features, she could feel the weight of unseen eyes—some curious, some cautious, and one pair...watchful in a way that made her skin prickle.

She didn't belong here. Not in the open. Not where whispers could catch fire.

But tonight wasn't about her—it was about tradition. The full moon ritual was sacred to all packs. A time of renewal, blessing, and balance. It was one of the few events where even the isolated Moonfang allowed outsiders to enter the fold—under tight supervision, of course.

From behind the ceremonial fire, Elias Hale stood tall in his silver-trimmed warrior robes, flanked by two of Moonfang's council elders. His steely gaze swept the crowd, pausing briefly on the hooded form of his daughter before continuing. Jon stood nearby, not in official formation but close enough to intervene if needed.

Veyra knew her brother was watching her every move. She could feel the bond they shared vibrate with tension.

Maelin stood behind her husband, quiet and luminous, her sorceress robes trailing like moonlight. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest, lips moving in silent prayer. Veyra hadn't been allowed to stand in the circle before. But after everything—the bonds, the dreams, the awakening—her mother had finally relented.

Just one night. One ceremony.

One mistake.

From the edge of the woods, hidden by dense underbrush and layered shadow, another figure observed.

Cloaked in darkness, the stranger was utterly still, face veiled beneath a carved black mask that bore the mark of the Obsidian Fang— a secretive group known only through whispers and legends. Their mission: to prevent the rise of the white wolf, a being prophesied to bring upheaval to the established order. A fang-shaped rune etched in bloodstone and bound with death spells. The figure made no move to approach, only to listen.

They were searching. Always searching. And tonight, the whispers would begin.

A breeze shifted the smoke of the ceremonial fire toward the crowd, and Veyra's eyes burned for a moment. She blinked through the haze, her vision swimming slightly, the chant of the elders lulling her into a trance. Maelin had warned her that full moon energy would stir her magic more than usual now. That the bonds she'd already formed would awaken beneath moonlight and song.

And they did.

Kael's fire pulsed in her chest like an ember. Lioren's cold tether tugged against her spine. Zevi's spark of joy danced in her bones, and Rune's whisper was a ghost in her soul.

Four mates. Four bonds. All real. All dangerous.

She shouldn't have come.

The longer she stood in the moonlight, the stronger the magic curled beneath her skin. Her wolf was restless—pacing in the corners of her mind, her fur bristling with need and unease. And somewhere deep, the white form she'd only glimpsed in dreams stirred.

She took a step back into the shadows, heart hammering. Her breath came faster.

Then the pain struck.

A sharp, piercing throb at the base of her skull. Her knees nearly buckled. She gasped softly, clutching the trunk of a tree to steady herself. The world around her dimmed, the firelight flickering like dying stars.

The masked observer took a step forward.

Their head tilted, as if listening. A soft hum, too low for human ears, vibrated in their throat.

"Four," they murmured, voice rasping with old power. "She has four already..."

They vanished into the shadows before anyone could notice them, leaving behind only a faint trace of blood magic and smoke.

"Veyra."

She snapped out of the spiral at the sound of her name. Jon's voice. Firm, grounded, and close.

She turned to find him there, his brows drawn, lips pressed in a worried line. He'd seen her stagger. Felt the flicker in her energy.

"I'm fine," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "Just... too much magic."

Jon didn't look convinced. He reached out and steadied her shoulder, his touch warm, grounding.

"You shouldn't have come."

"I needed to," she whispered. "I needed to feel something normal."

Jon's eyes softened. "Nothing about you is normal, Veyra."

She let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah. I'm starting to notice."

He squeezed her arm gently. "Let's get you home."

But before she could nod, everything went still.

The fire sputtered.

The chanting stopped.

And for a long, breathless moment, the only sound was the wind rustling the leaves.

Then Veyra screamed.

Her body convulsed—not from pain, but from something far deeper. A pulse of energy surged through her, blasting her senses wide open. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, eyes glowing faintly silver as her wolf surged forward, claws scraping at the edges of her mind.

She wasn't shifting. She was awakening.

Everyone around the circle turned, startled by her cry. The elders murmured. Elias stepped forward, alarmed. Maelin's face drained of color.

Jon knelt beside her, gripping her arms. "Veyra! Veyra, breathe!"

But she wasn't hearing him.

Inside her mind, the dream began.

A forest of white ash trees.

Five shadows stood in a circle.

Kael. Lioren. Zevi. Rune.

And one more.

The fifth shadow stepped forward, his form taller, broader, cloaked in a wild wind that whipped around him like a storm. His eyes were molten gold—piercing, ancient. He reached toward her, and his voice rumbled through the dreamspace.

"Veyra..."

Her name echoed like thunder.

Her heart clenched. The fifth bond.

She wasn't ready.

She jolted awake in Jon's arms, chest heaving. Her cheeks were wet with tears she hadn't realized were falling.

Around her, murmurs spread like wildfire.

"Did you see that?"

"She screamed like something was inside her..."

"Her eyes..."

"I heard she's not allowed outside much."

"She's... different."

The whispers stung worse than the power burning in her veins.

Maelin swept to her side, eyes fierce and protective, her magic already rising around her like a shield. "We're leaving. Now."

Elias nodded once, already signaling to the guards.

Jon didn't argue. He helped Veyra to her feet, his arm around her as they walked away from the fire, from the prying eyes, from the danger.

But it was too late.

Someone had seen.

Someone had heard.

And far beyond the territory borders, in a temple carved from obsidian, the High Priest of the Order lit a black candle with bloodied fingers.

"She lives," he whispered to the flames. "The white wolf has awakened. The prophecy begins."

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Latest chapter

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   ECHOES OF A CURSE

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  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE FOURTH AWAKENS

    The firelight in the Hale hearth flickered like a heartbeat, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Veyra sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into the flames, her fingers absently tracing the hem of her wool cloak. The house was quiet—too quiet. Her father and brother were out on patrol again, and her mother, Maelin, moved silently in the adjoining room, stirring herbs into vials and whispering incantations to ease the lingering illness that still clung to parts of the pack.But Veyra's silence had nothing to do with the sickness. It had everything to do with the white wolf she saw in her dreams.The fourth bond had changed something inside her. Rune's touch hadn't just sparked the connection—it had unlocked a deeper part of her soul. Since that moment, her dreams had become a realm of moonlight and magic. Every time she closed her eyes, she found herself standing in a forest of silver trees, her paws—white as fresh snow—crunching softly beneath her. She wasn't just seeing

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   RUNE OF THE WILDS

    The disease came like a whisper on the wind, silent and unseen. One day the pups were laughing under the trees; the next, they were coughing, burning with fevers no healer could name. The sickness spread with cruel precision through the Moonfang Pack, sparing no den or warrior's quarters. Veyra had watched it unfold from the safety of the outer territory, her heart clenched with helpless fear as her people—though they barely knew her—suffered.Two weeks had passed since the first wolf fell ill. Maelin had been working day and night with the Moonfang healers, pouring through ancient tomes and crushed herbs, casting spells of protection on the borders of their home. Veyra had helped quietly, cloaked and hidden, boiling roots, scrubbing cloths clean of blood and vomit. She had seen children limp in their mothers' arms, warriors too strong to break now collapsed and shivering. It was a strange kind of war, one without a visible enemy—but it was a war all the same.When the Thornswell Pack

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   LAUGHTER AND LIGHTNING

    The first thing Veyra heard was laughter.Not just any laughter—his laughter.It drifted through the trees like wind catching fireflies, playful and warm, stirring something in her chest she didn't want to name. Zevi was lounging on a low branch, just above her head, when she entered the glade they'd secretly been meeting in for the last three days. He always seemed to know when she'd be there. Or maybe he was always waiting. Either way, he made it seem like it was all just coincidence."Didn't know wolves climbed trees," Veyra said flatly, arms crossed.Zevi grinned, his amber eyes catching the sunlight like a challenge. "We don't. But I'm not like most wolves. Haven't you figured that out yet?""You're something, alright," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She hated how easily he could coax a smile out of her, how her chest fluttered when he was near, how calm her wolf was around him—like the storm in her bones grew quiet in his presence.He dropped from the bra

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE BROKEN HUNT

    The morning sun hung low, spilling gold through the tangled canopy above as Veyra laced her boots. A crisp breeze drifted through the trees, tugging at the edge of her cloak like a whisper, as if the forest itself wanted to speak. She tightened the strap on her quiver and looked toward her brother. Jon Hale, already armed and ready, leaned against a tree, sharpening his blade with quick, precise strokes. His dark hair was tied back, and his sharp jaw was set in concentration—but when he looked up at her, his eyes softened."You good, pup?" he asked, voice low and warm.Veyra gave him a look. "I'm twenty-two, Jon. You've gotta stop calling me that."He grinned, a rare break in his usual solemn expression. "You'll always be my pup. Now let's move. It's just a training hunt, but I want you sharp.""Training hunt" was code. They both knew it. Ever since Kael and Lioren, her body had begun to change. Her senses were heightening, her reflexes sharpening. The bonds were awakening something d

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   A SECOND FLAME

    Veyra Hale dreamed in shadows now.In the quietest hours of the night, she lay motionless in her bed, but her soul wandered far from the safety of the small cabin tucked deep into the forest's edge. The dreams had started two nights ago—after the festival. After Lioren.In her vision, five figures stood in a circle around her. Each of them loomed tall, their forms cloaked in mist, their eyes glowing with distinct colors: crimson, silver, obsidian, deep gold, and sapphire. None of them spoke. They only watched her. Their presence didn't feel threatening—it felt inevitable. Like destiny had wrapped her in their chains and tossed the key into the moonlight.She woke with a gasp, breathless, clutching at her chest as if she could pull the lingering sensation from her skin. Her wolf, usually quiet, now stirred with hunger and alertness. Something inside her had awakened. Magic, Maelin had called it. The mark of her kind—the rare, myth-bound white wolf.And now, with each bond that formed,

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE FESTIVAL OF UNITY

    The scent of roasted meat, pine sap, and crushed wildflowers drifted through the air like an intoxicating perfume. The central clearing of the Moonfang Pack had been transformed overnight into a mosaic of banners, lanterns, and ceremonial fire pits. Wolves from neighboring territories—some bitter rivals, others cautious allies—had gathered for the annual Festival of Unity, a political dance cloaked in smiling faces and carefully chosen words.Veyra Hale watched from the safety of the tree line, her hood drawn low, her heart pounding. She wasn't supposed to be here. She'd promised Jon and her parents she would stay hidden during the festival. The stakes were too high—too many strangers, too many risks. But curiosity had always been her undoing, and the call of the world beyond her isolation had grown louder since her strange encounter with Kael.Now, as twilight bled across the sky, she stood cloaked in anonymity, the festival glowing before her like a dream she'd never been allowed to

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE WARRIOR’s BOND

    The moon had risen high by the time Kael slipped away from the Ironhowl merchant encampment. The light cast eerie silver streaks over the woodland paths, shadows dancing across the snow-dusted ground like spirits shifting in the dark. But Kael's mind wasn't on the moon or the cold. It was on her—the girl with eyes like stormlight and a scent that had embedded itself deep into his memory.He didn't even know her name."Who is she?" he muttered under his breath, weaving between carts and trader tents. "She has to belong to this pack..."But when he asked—quietly, cautiously, pulling aside younger warriors or curious market dwellers—they gave only shrugs and confused expressions."No one like that lives around here," one said."Sounds like you were hallucinating," another chuckled.Kael narrowed his eyes. His wolf snarled within. They were lying—or someone was hiding her. That kind of bond didn't just happen. And it sure as hell didn't go away. He remembered the way her body had jolted w

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   HOWLING HEARTS

    The morning broke quietly, the sun stretching golden fingers across the treetops outside the Hale cabin. Inside, it was a flurry of movement. Jon Hale buckled the last strap on his chest armor, the leather creaking as he adjusted the fit. His black cloak lay folded on the table, and his weapons were freshly sharpened. Though it was just a patrol mission to the neighboring border near Stonefang Ridge, he treated every assignment with the seriousness of war. That's how their father raised him—prepared, alert, unshakable. Veyra stood near the doorway, watching him with tight lips and folded arms. She hated when he left. The world outside their secluded haven felt sharper, more dangerous, without Jon's calming presence. He always made her feel like no harm could touch her. "You'll only be gone two days?" she asked. "Two and a half, max. We're just checking trade routes, reinforcing some pack-to-pack borders. Nothing serious," Jon replied, though his tone was clipped. "Still, I want y

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