MY CURSED MATE

I A warlock's fight I

Warning! This chapter is not edited, so expect typos, misspelled words, and grammatical errors. Thanks and enjoy reading!

KABANATA VII

Third Person's POV

Far beyond the territories known to the werewolf packs of Grand Orleas lay a land that no ordinary creature dared to seek.

A forgotten kingdom.

A cursed sanctuary.

A place where life itself had long abandoned hope.

Hidden beneath an endless veil of black clouds stood a palace consumed by darkness. It was not merely the absence of light that made the place terrifying—it was the darkness that seemed alive, slowly devouring everything foolish enough to wander near it.

No birds flew across its skies except for those creatures known as Dark cooers.

No beasts hunted within its borders.

Not even insects dared to crawl upon its lifeless soil.

The land surrounding the palace was nothing but cracked earth stretching for miles. Every inch of the ground looked as though it had been denied rain for centuries. The trees that once flourished had long withered, their twisted branches reaching toward the heavens like skeletal hands begging for mercy.

From the deepest cracks in the earth, rivers of molten lava bubbled endlessly, illuminating the wasteland with an eerie crimson glow. Thick smoke rose from beneath the ground, poisoning the already lifeless air.

Every breath carried death.

Any ordinary creature unfortunate enough to remain within the territory for even a single minute would suffocate before they ever reached the palace gates.

Because this... was the domain of the Dark Coven known to consist of Dark warlocks—practitioners of dark magic and forbidden spells.

Ang isinumpang lupain na maging ang pinakamalalakas na Alpha ay iniiwasang lapitan.

Countless legends had spread throughout Grand Orleas regarding the palace hidden within the cursed lands. Some claimed that the Warlocks had sold their souls to the Gods of Darkness. Others believed the palace itself was alive, feeding upon every soul that entered its domain.

No one knew the truth. Because no one had ever returned sane. Those who survived never spoke of what they had seen.

Their eyes would remain open yet their mouths are silent... Until madness eventually claimed them. For centuries, every pack had attempted to locate the exact location to the gates of the dark palace.

None succeeded. The surrounding forest itself rejected outsiders. Anyone who dared enter would wander endlessly until hunger, exhaustion, or insanity consumed them.

It was as though the entire forest breathed alongside the palace.

Protecting it. Hiding it. Waiting.

At the heart of the cursed land stood the colossal palace, built from obsidian-black stones that reflected no light. Hundreds of towering pillars surrounded its enormous halls, each carved with ancient symbols older than any kingdom in Grand Orleas.

The atmosphere inside was no different.

Cold. Silent. Oppressive.

Thousands of cloaked figures stood motionless within the massive ceremonial hall. None dared utter a single word. None dared raise their heads.