All Chapters of Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Chapter 551 - Chapter 560

ErikIt’s too quiet.The kind of quiet that doesn’t come from peace, but from something holding its breath.Scarlett walks beside me, her fingers twined with mine. But I can tell she feels it too.Every few steps, she tilts her head, like she’s trying to hear something behind the trees.Her magic hasn’t flared, not yet, but I can feel it under her skin, coiled and ready.Chris and Elliott are up ahead, talking in low voices.Ilsa trails behind, picking at a pine needle she’s been shredding since we left camp.The forest feels denser again, more shadow than space.Every path looks like a trap waiting to be sprung.We’ve been walking for hours, and the temperature hasn’t changed.Still cold, still damp, still that smell of wet bark and distant rot. But I don’t sweat, I don’t tire and I don’t breathe too deeply.Because I don’t want to taste what’s in the air.Scarlett’s fingers tighten in mine.“Do you hear that?” she whispers.I shake my head. “I don’t hear anything.”“Exactly.”The bi

CaelanThe forest isn’t quiet. Not to me.Not anymore.It hums under my skin like a warning, like the prelude to a song I already know the ending to.The trees here don’t breathe, they listen. And the moss doesn’t soften footsteps, it memorizes them.The mortals don’t hear it. Not clearly. The wolf-kin among them feel pieces of it. Ripples along the spine, some ancient echo in the blood. But none of them see what I see.The seams are fraying.And one of them, she, is right in the center of the rip.I move fast through the trees, faster than any of them could track.The air is thick with that scent again. |Ash and memory. Not smoke. Not fire. But what’s left after. The quiet hush of something sacred being broken. The magic here has been torn.And it knows I can feel it.I pause near a tree marked by old runes. None of them mine, none of them friendly.They glow faintly, barely visible unless you know what to look for. I trace one with a fingertip, and the bark pulses like flesh.Still

IlsaThe trees aren’t right.I know I’m not supposed to say that anymore. We’ve all agreed the trees are wrong so many times it’s basically a chorus. But gods, these ones are wrong in new ways.They’re too still. Not silent—still. Like they’re holding position.Watching. Waiting. Biding their time.The sunlight overhead flickers like someone’s dimming and undimming a lantern. No clouds. Just a light that twitches like it can’t decide whether it’s morning or dusk.Scarlett notices first. She always does.“Is it just me,” she says quietly, “Or is the sun moving backward?”Elliott glances up, then away just as fast. “Not gonna look. Not gonna mess with it. I value my sanity, thanks.”Chris mutters something about clocks and head injuries.Erik’s the only one who looks halfway calm, which would be comforting if he didn’t have that soft frown he gets when he’s quietly freaking out.I try not to look at Caelan. But he’s watching the trees like they’ve got knives.“Tell me this isn’t normal,

ScarlettWe’re not alone here.I don’t mean that something’s following us, though that’s true, too. I mean the forest remembers.It remembers us.The group is taking a short break. Erik and Ilsa are arguing quietly over which direction is safest. Like any direction means safety in a place like this.Chris and Elliott haven’t quite managed to wipe the smug off their faces, which makes me think they weren’t just ‘scouting’ earlier.And Caelan is off by himself again, watching the trees with a frown that never seems to leave him.I drift toward a cluster of trees on the far side of the clearing.My skin is prickling again. Not like my instincts sense danger. More like a sense of recognition. Like something old and vast just whispered my name in a language I used to speak.The trees are wide and smooth-barked here.Their trunks twist slightly, as if they’ve been leaning toward each other for centuries, trying to share secrets they don’t want the wind to hear.And carved into one, so faint

OmniscientIt starts with a single crack.Not thunder. Not yet. Just the forest holding its breath before the sky suddenly splits open.This lightning doesn’t flicker, it hunts.Bolts slam into the earth with furious precision, carving trenches of steam into moss and root.The clouds churn above like something angry is watching through them, teeth bared behind each strike.“Move!” Scarlett shouts, hauling Erik toward the treeline.But it doesn’t matter. The lightning follows them.It doesn’t scatter randomly across the sky. It targets them.Elliott grabs Chris by the wrist and yanks him behind a boulder just as a bolt annihilates the path where they were standing.Ilsa shouts something which is lost to the roar, and Caelan, unshaken, his silver eyes gleaming, steps into the center of the chaos like he was born there.He lifts his hands and the wind bends around him.Power rushes through the clearing like breath through lungs, ancient and electric.A ripple of magic spins out from Cael