WHAT AM I?

WHAT AM I?
Ares's point of view

If this was training, then I wanted no part of it.

Tristan made me run the palace boundary—twice. By noon, I was soaked in sweat, lungs aching, legs threatening to give out beneath me. And when I stopped, expecting something—anything—he handed me a tin cup of water like it was a royal feast.

“One drink?” I growled.

“That’s all a beast needs when it’s hunting,” he said casually.

I hated him more by the minute.

Still panting, I stared at the sprawling palace walls. Golden sunlight bounced off the stone, mocking me with its warmth. I wasn’t just tired—I was starving.

But before I could catch my breath, Tristan pointed to a stack of jute sacks, piled like bricks near the gate.

“Carry them,” he ordered. “All of them. To the top chamber of the west wing.”

I looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “You’re joking.”

He didn’t flinch. “Does this look like a joke?”

“You’re not even offering food—”

He cut me off with a shrug. “A wolf doesn’t eat until the hunt is done.”

My temper sparked. “And what am I hunting?”

He smiled. “Yourself.”

What kind of cryptic mentor nonsense was that? I didn’t answer. I just picked up the first sack—gods, it was heavier than it looked—and started walking.

Each trip up the stairs was like climbing a mountain with a boulder strapped to my back. The muscles in my arms burned. My legs wobbled. My stomach howled like the very beast Tristan kept rambling on about.

By the time I dropped the last sack, I was done. Completely done.

I didn’t say a word to him when he approached again, sweat still untouched on his brow like he hadn’t moved at all. He had the nerve to smirk.

“The queen awaits,” he said smoothly.

I didn’t answer.

“She’s expecting you now,” he added, stepping into my path.

“I’m not going.”

His brow rose. “Still clinging to your pride?”

I stayed silent, jaw tight.

He leaned closer, and when he spoke, his voice was lower, colder. “Maybe that’s why she abandoned you.”

The words sliced through me before I could even process them.

Abandoned.

My vision tunneled. My breath sharpened.

And then—I snapped.

My hand moved before my thoughts could catch it. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the nearest column, pinning him with one arm. My fingers wrapped around his throat. Energy—not just adrenaline, but something raw, ancient—surged through me like fire in my blood.

His eyes widened—but not in fear. In triumph.

“This,” he choked, lips curling into a grin, “this is what I wanted to see.”

I stared at him, breathing hard, every cell in my body humming with that strange, burning energy. My hands trembled around his throat, but not from weakness—from the sheer force rippling through me.

I felt stronger, like my bones were shifting beneath the surface. Something inside me stirred, teeth on the edge of transformation.

I dropped him suddenly, disgusted—with him, with myself.

He coughed, rubbing his throat but still grinning like a madman. “You felt it, didn’t you?” he said.

“You tricked me,” I spat.

He straightened his collar like we’d just shaken hands. “Of course I did. Anger reveals what you hide.”

“What the hell am I?” I demanded.

His eyes—sharp and pale—locked onto mine.

He didn’t flinch when he answered.

“Lycan.”

The word landed like thunder in my chest.

Lycan.

My heart pounded. My mind raced back—to the times I healed faster than I should have, when my senses picked up things others missed, when fear made me faster, stronger. It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t luck.

It was me.

“I’m not—I can’t be—”

“You are,” he said firmly. “And it’s time you stop denying it.”

I backed away from him, chest rising and falling in shallow, sharp breaths.

A lycan.

All this time... all the questions... the strength I could never explain. The way I felt drawn to the moon on nights when the world felt too quiet. The beast inside me that stirred in dreams.

It wasn’t just in my head.

It was real.

I looked at Tristan—really looked—and for the first time, I noticed the faint golden hue behind his eyes. The same flicker that had passed through mine.

“You,” I said. “You’re like me.”

He nodded. “I was trained to be a weapon. I refused. Now I train others to survive.”

I scoffed. “Great. So I’m your next project?”

“No,” he said, voice firm. “You’re a prince. And one day, you might have to lead.”

I barked a bitter laugh. “Lead what? A kingdom I didn’t ask for? People I’ve never met?”

“A war,” he said simply. “The one that’s coming.”

I stared at him, the walls pressing in around me again. The palace didn’t feel so empty anymore. It felt like a cage.

A cage for beasts.

He stepped back. “The queen will still want to see you. She doesn’t know how much you’ve awakened.”

“And what happens then?” I asked.

He gave a small smile. “Then your real training begins.”

I watched him walk away, his boots echoing down the stone corridor.

I stood there alone, heart thundering, the word he left behind still rattling through me.

Lycan.

I didn’t know what it meant yet. Not fully. Not how deep it went or what it demanded from me. But I knew this:

Whatever was sleeping inside me—it was awake now.

And it was hungry.