GHOST THAT CHASED ME

GHOST THAT CHASED ME
Ares's point of view

I didn’t sleep that night.

The palace was quiet, still, unnaturally so. The kind of silence that feels haunted. Not by ghosts—those I could handle—but by expectations. Every corner I turned seemed to whisper my name, not the one I made for myself, but the one I inherited. The one I never wanted.

Caspian.
The name echoed again in my head, and I clenched my jaw until it ached.

I was the son of a king.
The heir to two kingdoms.
And no one had the decency to tell me that until now.

The chamber they gave me was grand—ornate woodwork, silver-laced windows, a bed big enough to drown in. But it wasn’t mine. Nothing here was.

I sat by the window, watching the stars fade into morning, thinking about Tristan’s words.

"You don’t get to run anymore."

That bastard thought he knew me. Thought just because he married the queen and wore his loyalty to Valic like armor, he could decide the path I had to walk.

I hated him for that calm, for that knowing. But most of all, I hated how deep down, part of me believed him.

I hadn’t asked for this blood. I hadn’t asked to be born to a man I never met and a kingdom that had no memory of me.

But I also hadn’t asked for Tessa to be hunted. For her father to be murdered. For Veyron’s name to keep showing up like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

When the knock came, I already knew who it was.

“Enter,” I called.

Tristan stepped inside, dressed not like a prince or diplomat, but like a soldier ready for war. His boots were heavy on the polished floor, but his face remained unreadable.

“I hope you slept well,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

“Your training begins now.”

I raised my brows and leaned back in the chair. “Still convinced I don’t get a say in that?”

He gave a ghost of a smile. “No. You don’t.”

I stood slowly. “Why do you even care?”

“Because whether you want it or not, you’re the last piece left that connects Mistefell and Valic. And Veyron knows that. If he doesn’t kill you, he’ll try to use you.”

My fists clenched. “And you think training me will fix that?”

“No,” he said. “But it might give you a chance to survive.”

I followed him down the stone corridors again, this time not as a guest but as a weapon being sharpened.

The training hall was massive, lined with weapons—most older than me—and spell circles burned into the floor. It smelled like sweat and fire. And something else. Old blood, maybe.

Tristan tossed me a wooden staff. I caught it mid-air.

“No swords?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “Swords make you think of killing. This is about control first.”

We began.

The first hour was simple. Forms. Stances. Breath. But I knew what he was doing. Testing. Measuring. He wanted to know how much I already knew.

The truth was, I knew a lot more than he expected. Life on the streets had taught me to survive. Tessa had shown me how to fight without magic, and those years of instinct didn’t fade.

After the fifth time I knocked his staff aside and forced him back two steps, he smirked.

“You’re quicker than I thought.”

I shrugged. “I’ve had practice.”

The smirk faded. “Speed isn’t everything. When Veyron strikes, he won’t care how fast you are. He’ll rip your mind apart from the inside.”

I froze. “He can do that?”

“He’s done worse,” Tristan said. “He doesn’t just fight with magic. He fights with memory, illusion, fear. He uses what’s broken in you.”

I swallowed hard. That fear—the one I never named—it curled low in my gut.

“What does he want?” I asked. “Why now?”

Tristan looked toward the high windows. “Because he knows the heir is alive. And because the veil is thinning. He’s looking for a way back through.”

“Back from where?”

“From where they locked him,” Tristan said darkly. “The place your parents sealed him with blood and spell. But he’s found cracks in the wall. And he’s pushing through.”

I was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t the queen tell me any of this?”

“She will,” he replied. “When she’s ready. Arabella doesn’t deal in emotion. She deals in war.”

“Good,” I muttered. “I prefer people who don’t lie.”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he wanted to say something but didn’t. Instead, he stepped forward and tossed his staff to the ground.

“Again,” he said.

We trained until my arms shook, until sweat blurred my vision and I could barely stand. But I kept moving. Kept fighting. Because beneath all the questions, all the bitterness, one truth had finally rooted itself in me.

Veyron was real.
He was coming.
And I had to be ready.

By the time we finished, the sun had climbed high, and I could barely feel my hands. I leaned against the stone column, catching my breath. Tristan stood near me, not winded at all.

“You’re stubborn,” he said.

I nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

He hesitated before saying, “That might save you. And the girl.”

I stiffened.

Tessa.

“She’s not part of this,” I said.

“She is,” he said. “Whether you accept it or not. Her magic is old. Wild. And tied to yours.”

“How do you know?”

He looked at me. “Because it’s the same type your mother had.”

My heart thudded in my chest.

I didn’t know what to say.

Tristan stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. “Clean yourself up. The queen wants to speak with you tonight.”

I grunted. “Can’t wait.”

He turned, but before leaving, he said, “You’ll need to decide who you are soon, Ares. The world doesn’t wait for people who can’t choose.”

And then he was gone.

I stood alone in the hall, the ghost of Caspian’s name still ringing in my ears. The echo of Veyron’s threat clawing at my spine.

Whatever was coming next, I had no choice but to meet it head on.

Even if it killed me.