Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 216

Lisa's POV

My head was pounding. Every throb behind my eyes felt like a hammer striking against my skull, dragging me out of a darkness that had felt endless. I groaned softly, pressing my palms against the cold, uneven stone beneath me, forcing my body to respond even as nausea twisted in my stomach. My eyelids fluttered open, and the world swam in front of me.

Shadows. Flickering light. Walls that seemed to breathe with dampness, coated in moss and age. A cavern. The air smelled of smoke and something older, something that carried the weight of centuries. I blinked rapidly, trying to force the blurriness away, and then my heart lurched.

I wasn’t alone.

Irene stood only a few feet away, her posture sharp, her eyes watching me with a strange mixture of triumph and coldness. Behind her, a figure loomed—an elderly man whose presence filled the cavern so completely it was hard to breathe. His hair was long, silver streaked with white, his body frail-looking but emanating a strength that no age could dull. His eyes were the most terrifying of all—bright, sharp, and endless, as though they could see through skin and bone to the core of my soul.

“W-Where… where am I?” My voice came out hoarse, cracked.

Neither answered immediately. Irene simply tilted her head, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Panic surged through me, hot and wild. Instinctively, I reached inward, pulling on the energy that thrummed in my blood—the power that had always been there, hidden, waiting. I gathered it, focused it, and thrust it outward, aiming at Irene.

A spark flickered in the air. And then it fizzled out.

The power slipped through my fingers like water, dissolving into nothing. My body shuddered with the effort, and instead of strength, a wave of exhaustion slammed into me.

I stared at my hands in horror. “No… no, no, no…”

Irene let out a soft laugh. “Did you think it would be that easy?”

The old man finally stepped forward, his voice deep, commanding. “Do not waste yourself, child. In here, your gifts mean nothing. They bend to me, whether you will it or not.”

I froze, staring at him. His words settled like ice in my veins.

He studied me for a long moment, then inclined his head slightly. “You may call me Malrik.”

His name echoed in the cavern like a curse.

“Who… who are you?” My voice trembled despite me.

“I am what the world has forgotten,” he said. “An ancient wolf, older than your kind can comprehend. I have walked through fire and ruin, through blood and dust. I have outlived empires, and I remain because I have purpose. Do you know what that is?”

I shook my head slowly, my body instinctively inching back.

“I seek the line of the healer,” he continued, his eyes narrowing on me. “The one whose blood can mend what no other can. I have searched across generations, across centuries, and now… here you are. The descendant.”

My breath hitched. The healer. My grandmother’s stories flashed in my mind—tales I had dismissed as myth, whispers of ancestors with the gift to heal wounds not only of flesh but of spirit. My heart raced. “No… you’re wrong. I don’t—”

“You do,” Malrik interrupted sharply. His voice was final, absolute. “It is in your blood, whether you acknowledge it or not.”

“No!” I shouted, scrambling backward, legs slipping against the stone. Panic clawed at my throat. I turned, bolting toward the cavern’s entrance, desperation fueling me.

But I didn’t make it more than three steps.

Something invisible slammed into me, a force like iron chains wrapping around my limbs. I was yanked backward, my body twisting against my will, dragged across the stone until I was back at Malrik’s feet. I struggled, kicked, clawed, but my body betrayed me, moving as if he were the puppeteer and I nothing but string.

“Do not waste yourself,” he said calmly, almost amused. “Every attempt only proves how unprepared you are.”

Tears stung my eyes, hot and angry. “Let me go!”

“Guards!” Malrik’s voice thundered through the cavern. From the shadows, two massive figures emerged, armored and faceless, their movements sharp and disciplined. They seized me by the arms, their grips like iron, dragging me up to my knees.

“Take her to the black room,” Malrik ordered. “Bind her. She must learn what it means to resist.”

“No! Please—” My voice broke as I twisted in their hold. “I didn’t ask for this! I’m not who you think I am!”

Malrik only watched, his expression calm, almost indulgent, as if my protests were nothing more than a child’s tantrum.

The guards hauled me away, deeper into the cave, through narrow passages that smelled of ash and decay. My heels scraped against the ground as I kicked, screamed, begged, but their grips never loosened.

The black room was worse than I imagined.

It was a hollow chamber, circular, with no windows, no light except for the faint glow of symbols carved into the floor. Strange markings twisted and curved in patterns I didn’t understand, forming a massive circle that dominated the center of the room. Chains hung from the walls, heavy and rusted, clinking softly as the guards pulled me inside.

“No!” I screamed, thrashing violently now. “Don’t—don’t put me in here!”

They didn’t listen.

One blow to the back of my head sent the world spinning. Darkness swallowed me whole again.

When I woke, my body ached. My wrists burned, raw from the chains that now bound them, pulling me upright. I gasped, blinking rapidly, and then froze when I saw it.

I was in the middle of the circle.

The symbols carved into the stone glowed faintly beneath me, pulsing like veins of fire, wrapping me in their web. Their light pressed against my skin, cold and suffocating.

“No…” I whispered, shaking my head violently. I tugged at the chains, yanked against them with every ounce of strength I had. Nothing. They didn’t even rattle.

I reached again for my power, desperate, clawing for it in my blood. For a moment, I felt it—faint, flickering, like a candle in the wind. I pushed, tried to make it grow, tried to tear the symbols apart with it.

But the moment the energy touched the lines of the circle, it recoiled. The light flared, and I screamed as pain shot through me, ripping the power from my veins like it was being drained, stolen. My knees buckled, my body collapsing under the weight of it.

I gasped, trembling violently. “Stop… please…”

The chains held me upright. The symbols glowed steadily, drinking from me each time I resisted.

Every time I tried again, the same thing happened. The energy drained, my strength fading with it, until exhaustion wrapped around me like a shroud. My body shook uncontrollably, my breaths coming in shallow gasps.

From the corner of the room, I heard movement. Irene stood there, watching me with arms folded, her expression unreadable. Malrik stood beside her, his eyes fixed on me, gleaming with satisfaction.

“Every attempt weakens you,” he said calmly. “Every rebellion feeds the circle, not you. Soon you will learn that resistance only serves me.”

I glared at him through the haze of pain, tears streaking my face. “You’ll… never break me…”

Malrik’s smile was slow, chilling. “Oh, child. You have not yet begun to understand what breaking means.”