Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 223

Third person POV

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the sounds of distant preparations in the fortress yard. Soldiers sharpened blades, boots marched in formation, and the air hummed with tension, but inside the children’s chamber, the world seemed entirely still.

Elias sat cross-legged on the floor, sweat glistening on his brow despite the cool air. His eyes glowed faintly, threads of light weaving between his fingertips as he concentrated. Lyra knelt beside him, her small hands clutching a charm of herbs she had bound together herself, whispering under her breath. Aria stood near the window, the breeze curling around her body though the shutters were closed. And Kael’s son—silent as always—sat at the far end of the room, his dark gaze fixed on the floor, his aura so heavy it made the air itself tremble.

They were not playing, nor whispering childish secrets. They were reaching, stretching, forcing their small minds into a connection far greater than themselves. They were trying to find her.

Their mother.

Elias’s breath came uneven, but his voice was steady. “Hold on. Just a little more. If we all push together, we can reach her.”

Lyra’s violet eyes burned brightly as she leaned forward, pressing her hands to his glowing arm. “I can feel her,” she whispered. “Far away. Like a candle in a storm. But she’s hurting.” Her lip trembled. “She’s screaming.”

Aria squeezed her fists tight, tears streaking down her face. “We can’t let go. We can’t. She’ll be lost if we do.” Her small voice broke into a sob, but the wind curled tighter around her as if lending her strength.

The boy named Kael lifted his head at last, his voice low and strange. “Her pain anchors us. Without it, we’ll never reach her. We must use it.”

Elias nodded, his hands tightening as the threads of light stretched outward like a net. “Mama… Mama, can you hear us?” His voice trembled, but the strength in it was far beyond his years. “It’s Elias. Please, answer me.”

At first, there was nothing. Only silence, a void so heavy it pressed against their small minds like a wall. But then, faintly, a broken whisper seeped into the space between them.

“…E-Elias?”

The children gasped in unison. Lyra clutched her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks. Aria’s lips parted in awe, the air around her vibrating. Even Kael’s boy leaned forward, his dark eyes flickering with emotion.

Elias nearly collapsed, but he pushed harder, pouring every ounce of his strength into the bond. “Mama! Mama, it’s us! We’re here. Please, don’t give up.”

Her voice came weak, trembling, each word strained as though dragged through fire. “My children… you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be here. He’ll feel you. He’ll destroy you.”

“No,” Elias said firmly, his voice rising. “He can’t touch us. Not like this. You just have to hold on. Endure the pain, Mama. That’s how we’ll find you. We can only connect to you through the pain. Don’t let it break you.”

Lyra leaned closer, crying openly now. “We’re coming for you. Father is preparing the soldiers. Uncle Ash, Uncle Atlas, Uncle Kael—everyone is ready. Just keep enduring, Mama. Please. We can’t lose you.”

Lisa’s sobbing echoed faintly through the link, shattering their hearts. “You don’t understand… Malrik… he’s too powerful. His magic is ancient, older than anything your fathers have faced. He binds me with rituals that drain everything. I feel myself fading. I don’t know how much longer I can—”

Aria cried out, slamming her small fists against the wall. “No! Don’t say that! You can’t leave us, Mama! You can’t!”

The wind howled in the chamber, rattling the shutters and sending loose papers flying. Ash burst through the door, alarm flashing across his face at the sudden surge of power, but Enzo stopped him with a raised hand.

“They’ve reached her,” Enzo whispered, his wolf stirring violently in his chest. His eyes fixed on his son, glowing and trembling, and his heart ached with both pride and pain.

Through the link, Elias’s voice grew firmer, more commanding than any five-year-old’s had the right to be. “Mama, listen to me. You don’t give up. You don’t stop fighting. Every scream, every tear, every drop of pain—you hold onto it, because that’s how we’ll reach you. That’s how Father will find you. Please. For us.”

Lisa’s voice cracked, full of anguish. “Elias… my brave boy… you’re just children. You shouldn’t carry this.”

Lyra pressed her glowing hands against Elias’s arm, pouring her strength into him. Her voice was soft but unyielding. “We are your children. That means we’re strong enough. You gave us this strength. You and Father. Don’t take that from us now.”

Aria’s sobs shook her body, but her words cut through like thunder. “I saw the moon, Mama. It’s turning red. He’s waiting for it. Don’t let him win. You have to endure until then. You promised you’d never leave us.”

Kael’s boy finally moved closer, his dark presence wrapping around them like a shield. His voice was a low growl. “He won’t break you, because we won’t let him. Scream if you have to. Cry if you have to. But don’t give in.”

The room vibrated with their combined will, their small bodies glowing faintly as the bond stretched stronger.

Lisa’s breathing came ragged through the connection, and though her voice was weak, there was a spark in it now. “You… you sound so strong. Stronger than I ever imagined. My babies…”

Elias gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his nose again. “Not babies anymore, Mama. Not until you’re safe. Just promise us. Promise you’ll endure.”

“…I promise,” she whispered, though her words dissolved into a scream as another wave of pain struck her. The children flinched but held the bond tighter, refusing to let go.

Enzo’s chest heaved as he listened, his claws digging into the wooden frame of the door. His wolf roared inside him, desperate to tear through realms and put an end to her suffering now. But he couldn’t—not yet. The children’s bond was fragile. Breaking it would risk losing her altogether.

Through gritted teeth, Elias forced his words out. “We’ll find you. Just keep screaming if you have to. The pain is the thread. We’ll follow it. I swear it, Mama.”

The connection flickered, her voice fading in and out. “Tell… tell your fathers… Malrik is no ordinary wolf. His power comes from… from the ancients. He can bend minds, twist bodies. He can drain life itself. He wants the healer’s gift. He won’t stop until he rips it from me.”

Lyra’s eyes widened, and she looked toward Enzo and the others. “Did you hear that?” she whispered through trembling lips. “Tell them. She said it.”

Enzo stepped forward at last, kneeling by his children. His voice was steady, though rage thundered in every word. “We heard. We’ll prepare. You just hold onto her, Elias. Don’t let her slip.”

Elias nodded weakly, his entire body shaking as the glow flickered in his hands. “I won’t… I promise.”

Lisa’s last words carried through the bond before it finally broke, leaving the room heavy with silence. “…I love you. Endure. Endure with me.”

The connection snapped. The glow faded. Elias collapsed forward, caught quickly by Enzo’s strong arms. Lyra slumped beside him, pale, while Aria pressed her face into Ash’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Kael’s boy lowered his gaze, silent but visibly trembling.

Enzo lifted Elias, holding him close, his throat tight. The boy stirred faintly, whispering, “She’s alive… Father. She’s alive. But she’s in so much pain.”

Enzo’s eyes burned as he looked up at his brothers. “You heard her. Malrik’s power is older than we imagined. He twists minds, drains life itself. But she’s enduring. That means she’s waiting for us.” His wolf surged to the surface, his voice rumbling like thunder. “And we’ll tear him apart to bring her home.”

The children, though exhausted, clung tighter to their fathers, their small bodies trembling but unbroken. They had connected with their mother, felt her agony, and carried her words back.

And now the brothers knew—Lisa’s endurance was their only chance, and her pain was the path that would guide them into the heart of Malrik’s lair.

The preparations for war no longer carried only urgency. They carried a vow, sworn in the tears and trembling voices of children: Lisa would not be left to suffer alone.