Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 170

Third person POV

Kael stood by the wide table in his quarters, his hands resting heavily on the edge, eyes fixed on the maps spread before him. The parchment was riddled with ink marks, notes, routes, and warnings, yet it felt as if all of it mocked him with how uncertain their situation still was. His jaw clenched tightly as he studied the path that cut across the deep woods, a territory rarely ventured into by any of their kind, not even scouts. The news Mira delivered at the council still rang in his head like an endless drumbeat—her medicines were not working, the plague wasn’t abating, and now they were forced to place their hopes in someone no one had seen in decades: the healer who lived far into the depths of the forest, rumored more myth than truth.

It wasn’t Kael’s nature to believe in hearsay, but desperation left little room for logic. Packs were dying. The plague spread faster than their healers could contain. Entire households were quarantined, and the fear was beginning to splinter their unity. Enzo’s command had been clear—Kael was to prepare a small but skilled party to seek out this so-called healer, to convince her to return and offer aid. If she truly existed.

He rubbed a hand over his tired face. Five years of endless searching for Lisa had hardened him, filled him with restless energy that had nowhere to go. Every time a lead came, he had chased it to exhaustion, only to discover it was false. And now, as if the spirits mocked him, he was about to plunge into another wild search—this time for someone who might not even be real.

A knock sounded on the door, sharp but familiar. Kael didn’t turn. “Come in, Atlas.”

The door opened, and Atlas stepped inside, arms folded loosely across his chest, a faint grin curving his lips like he’d already read Kael’s thoughts before the man even spoke. “You’re preparing to leave without telling me?”

Kael shot him a glare. “This isn’t your mission. You have responsibilities here.”

Atlas raised a brow and sauntered over to the table, scanning the maps. “Responsibilities I can handle from anywhere. Besides, do you really think I’d let you march into the woods alone with only a few soldiers, chasing after an old tale? You’ll get yourself killed out there, Kael. You need me.”

“I don’t need distractions,” Kael retorted, voice low, but his grip on the table betrayed the tension building inside him.

Atlas leaned closer, his grin fading into something serious. “You need someone who won’t let you lose yourself in your own head. I’m coming, whether you like it or not.”

Kael hated that Atlas knew exactly where to strike. He exhaled sharply, dragging his eyes from the map to his brother’s face. “If you slow us down—”

“I won’t.” Atlas cut him off before he could finish, his tone firm. “I know what’s at stake.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Kael straightened and rolled up the map with a snap. “Fine. But you follow my lead. No exceptions.”

Atlas smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of disobeying.”

---

Preparations took hours. A group of fifteen handpicked soldiers gathered in the courtyard before dawn, armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Horses pawed at the cobblestones, their breath steaming in the cool morning air. Supplies were strapped down, weapons checked thrice over. The mood was somber; everyone knew the risks.

Kael mounted his horse, scanning their faces. These were warriors loyal enough to follow him into the unknown, but even loyalty didn’t erase the unease etched in their expressions. He gave a short nod. “We ride until nightfall. No unnecessary stops. Stay sharp.”

Atlas swung onto his own mount, giving the soldiers a half-smile, trying to ease the tension. “You heard him. Stay sharp, keep your eyes open, and maybe we’ll all come back with a grand story to tell.”

They rode out, hooves striking rhythmically against stone, then earth, until the fortress walls were only shadows behind them. The deeper they traveled, the darker the forest became. Trees rose like ancient sentinels, branches clawing at the sky, blotting out light. A damp chill clung to the air, the silence pressing in, broken only by the occasional call of unseen animals.

By midday, the path narrowed, forcing them to ride single file. Kael kept them moving, ears attuned to every rustle, every shift in the wind. He could feel it—the forest wasn’t empty. Something watched them from the shadows.

“Unfriendly welcome,” Atlas muttered from behind him, scanning the underbrush.

Kael grunted. “Keep your blade close.”

---

The first attack came without warning. A guttural snarl ripped through the silence, and shadows burst from the undergrowth. Rogues—feral wolves, their bodies twisted and scarred, eyes glowing with madness. They descended in a frenzy, claws and fangs flashing.

“Hold formation!” Kael shouted, leaping from his horse in one swift motion, sword already drawn. Steel clashed against claw, sparks flying as the soldiers formed a line.

Atlas landed beside him, twin daggers glinting as he slashed at the nearest rogue. “You didn’t mention a welcoming committee!”

Kael parried a strike, shoved his blade through a rogue’s chest, and snarled, “Didn’t think I needed to!”

The clearing erupted into chaos. Horses screamed, soldiers shouted, and the ground became slick with blood. Rogues fought with a desperation that bordered on madness, their attacks relentless. Kael cut through them with precision, but there were too many. He saw one soldier dragged down beneath snapping jaws, another crushed under sheer brute force. The losses piled before his eyes.

Atlas moved like a shadow, his daggers flashing in tight arcs, but even he struggled to keep them at bay. “There’s no end to them!”

“Then make one!” Kael roared, driving his blade through another attacker.

The battle raged until the last rogue fell, twitching on the blood-soaked earth. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by ragged breaths and the distant call of crows. The air stank of iron and death.

Kael stood amid the bodies, chest heaving, his sword dripping red. He looked around at his men—ten left standing. Five gone. His jaw tightened, grief simmering beneath his hardened exterior. He bent to wipe his blade clean, his voice low but steady. “Bury them. We don’t leave our own behind.”

The soldiers moved silently, digging shallow graves with whatever tools they had. Atlas stood beside Kael, his expression dark for once. “If this is what greets us at the edge of the woods, what the hell waits deeper inside?”

Kael didn’t answer. He didn’t want to.

---

Days blurred into one another as they pressed on. They faced swollen rivers that nearly swept their supplies away, treacherous ravines that forced them to dismount and lead the horses by hand, nights where the howls of unseen creatures circled their campfires. Each obstacle chipped away at their strength, and yet Kael drove them forward with unyielding determination.

At last, they reached the place whispered of in hushed tones—the healer’s domain. A clearing stretched before them, mist curling low around the roots of towering trees. Strange symbols marked stones at the boundary, pulsing faintly with light as if alive. The air here felt heavier, tinged with something that prickled the skin.

Before they could advance, figures emerged—four of them, tall and eerily graceful. The quadraduolet. Their identical faces and mirrored movements unsettled even the bravest of Kael’s men. They spoke in unison, their voices weaving together like an otherworldly chant.

“You stand in forbidden ground. Why do you come?”

Kael stepped forward, sword sheathed but hand close to the hilt. “We seek the healer. Our people are dying. We need her help.”

The quadraduolet tilted their heads in eerie synchronicity, eyes glinting with unreadable intent. “Many seek her. Few are worthy. Turn back before the forest claims you.”

Atlas leaned closer to Kael, his voice barely a whisper. “Don’t trust them. Something’s wrong here.”

Kael didn’t respond. His focus was on the shifting mist, on the figure emerging slowly from within it. A woman, cloaked, her steps deliberate, as though she carried centuries in her stride. She lowered her hood, and the world seemed to still.

Kael’s breath caught in his throat. Atlas froze beside him, eyes wide in disbelief.

It was Lisa.

Her hair fell in dark waves, her face older, sharper, but unmistakably hers. The healer they sought, the woman they’d chased shadows of for five years, stood before them alive.

Before Kael could move, the quadraduolet turned toward her, their eerie harmony breaking into something softer, almost childlike. They bowed their heads slightly and spoke together, their voices echoing through the clearing.

“Mother.”

The word cut through Kael like a blade.

Atlas stiffened, daggers still in hand, his voice low and raw. “Tell me I didn’t just hear that.”

But Kael couldn’t speak. His eyes were locked on Lisa, on the impossible truth standing before him.