THE BLOOD THAT BURNS

THE BLOOD THAT BURNS
Ares's point of view

It was a brief relief to find myself alive again—but a shame that the blood I carried was cursed.

All this time, I’d thought I was broken. A misfit boy with strange instincts, a violent edge, and a rage that never quite slept. I blamed myself for it. I thought maybe I was too wild, too angry, too… damaged to be anything else.

But now, knowing the truth—that the beast inside me wasn’t some madness but a legacy—I didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.

Lycan.

That was the word Tristan used when he lay on the ground, rubbing his neck where my hand had nearly crushed his windpipe. That was what he called me after he taunted me into losing control, after he dared to speak of my mother abandoning me like it was some training tactic.

Lycan. Not a myth. Not a monster. Me.

It was destiny playing its game. A twisted, cruel joke made in the halls of gods or fate or whatever ruled these kingdoms. But that didn’t mean I was ready to forgive anyone. Especially not her.

My mother.

I would never forgive her. Not for leaving me behind. Not for hiding everything from me. Not for letting me grow up alone and confused while she sat on a throne.

And now, I was asked to meet Arabella—the current queen of Mistefell.

They dressed me in new robes, though I fought against every thread of it. I hated how soft it felt, how regal. It didn’t belong to me. It belonged to people like her.

I walked down the corridor with clenched fists and a jaw tight enough to crack bone. Two guards opened the doors to the throne room, and I stepped in, refusing to look away.

She sat there like it was her birthright. Tall-backed throne, silver fabric, and her dark hair braided into something that gleamed under the torchlight. She didn’t wear a crown, but the silence bent around her like it knew who she was.

Queen Arabella.

I stood before her, unmoved.

She studied me, her eyes sharp—too familiar.

“This kingdom,” she began, her voice cold but clear, “was once ruled by your mother. She sat exactly where I do now.”

That pulled a short laugh from me. I couldn't help it. It just came.

She tilted her head slightly. “Do you find that amusing?”

I shrugged. “More like a joke that slapped me in the face.”

“How so?”

“Because here I am,” I said bitterly, “standing in the same place she ruled… yet all I ever knew of her was that she chose a throne over me. So forgive me, Your Grace, if I don’t feel honored.”

Her eyes narrowed, but there was no anger. Only a flicker of something else—sadness, maybe. Or guilt.

“I have no intention of ruling her kingdom,” I added. “She gave me a cursed bloodline. That’s all.”

Arabella stood slowly, descending the steps of her dais one by one.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “It wasn’t your mother who passed down the curse. It was your father.”

I didn’t flinch. “And who was that? Another royal with a secret?”

“No,” she replied. “He was a lycan. A warrior. A king in his own right. Caspian of Valic.”

I blinked. “Caspian?”

She nodded.

“And Tristan—he’s his beast. His bonded warrior. Every king of Valic has one.”

My chest twisted. “So, you’re telling me the man who nearly choked on my rage yesterday is loyal to the man who fathered me?”

“Yes,” she said. “And he’s my mate.”

I stared at her. “Your mate?”

Arabella smiled tightly. “Things are complicated. Especially when you’re born in a kingdom ruled by women and claimed by men who walk with wolves in their skin.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Complicated is an understatement.”

I turned away, pacing toward the marble pillars just to give my thoughts something to collide against. Everything felt too loud. Too close.

She didn’t stop me. She let the silence stretch.

“They left, you know,” she said eventually. “Caspian and Aeris. They left Mistefell together and built something in Valic. They ruled. They loved. They raised armies.”

I clenched my teeth. “And left me behind.”

Arabella stepped closer. “Aeris didn’t know how to survive. she what seemed best.”

I turned slowly, my voice sharp. “Don’t.”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “When the war began… things were torn apart. Secrets were buried. And Aeris was told Caspian was dead.”

I stared at her, unsure if I believed it. Wanting to. Hating that I wanted to.

“What makes you care so much?” I asked. “Why bother telling me this now?”

Arabella’s eyes softened, finally betraying something real beneath the royal mask. “Because I’m your aunt, Ares. I’m Aeris’s sister. You’re family.”

Family.

The word landed in my chest like a weight I didn’t ask for.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said quietly.

Arabella walked back toward her throne. “It means I see what you’re becoming. And I won’t let your power devour you.”

I exhaled sharply. “Like it almost devoured you?”

She paused, halfway to her seat. “Yes.”

We didn’t speak after that. She didn’t offer me comfort. I didn’t ask for it.

When the doors opened behind me, I turned and walked out without looking back.

I didn’t know what to do with the blood in my veins. All I knew was that it burned.