She's the Prince

Chapter 37

The Last of Ophiuchus

Ares stirred, a biting chill lacing through his veins. He cracked open his eyes, vision blurring before adjusting to a thick forest canopy overhead, its towering pines stretching towards a darkening sky. Whenever he moved, it made a lot of noise. Slowly, he registered the weight of his body slung over someone's shoulders.

"Finally awake?" a familiar voice muttered.

Ares blinked, focusing on the figure carrying him. Callan's back was solid and steady, his armor glinting faintly under scattered beams of moonlight that broke through the trees.

"What... happened?" Ares managed, his throat parched, each word a struggle. "Where... are we?"

"Take it easy," Callan said over his shoulder. "I'll explain once we stop."

At Callan's signal, the group halted in a small clearing, the forest floor thick with damp leaves and the heavy scent of earth. Callan knelt, easing Ares to the ground with the care of a seasoned comrade. Even though it was soft, Ares' side hurt, and he couldn't hold back a sharp hiss.

"Hold it together," Callan murmured, setting Ares down. "That scorpion did a number on you. Try not to squawk like a wounded bird."

Ares shot him a tired glare. "I'd sound better if you didn't lug me around like a sack of potatoes."

Ignoring the jab, Callan pulled a water pouch from his belt and handed it to him. "Here, drink. You look like a mummy."

Ares took a gulp, savoring the cool liquid against his dry throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "Mind telling me why my ribs feel like I got kicked by a horse?"

"Scorpion's poison," Callan replied, kneeling beside him. "You've been out for nearly two weeks."

Ares choked on the water. "Two weeks?!"

"While you were sleeping like a prince, I carried your sorry self across deserts and forests." Callan grinned. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't leave you for the vultures."

Ares raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you just the picture of loyalty."

Callan smirked, reaching for Ares' bandages. "You can thank me later. Right now, let me check this wound." He carefully lifted Ares' shirt, peeling back the stained gauze, and his brow furrowed at the sight. "Still not healing."

Ares clenched his jaw against the pain. "Remind me why I volunteered to fight a thousand-year-old scorpion?"

"Pride. Arrogance." Callan's grin widened. "The usual."

Before Ares could come up with a retort, shouts echoed from the edge of the clearing. Callan stood swiftly, casting Ares a reassuring glance. "Don't go dying on me while I'm gone."

***

Callan approached the soldiers who had surrounded a lone figure—thin, carrying a sack bulging with wild plants. Swords pointed menacingly at him, but the man's expression was calm, almost bored.

"Stand down," Callan ordered, his voice steady. The soldiers hesitated before lowering their weapons, though their grips remained tight.

"Who are you?" Callan asked, his gaze scrutinizing.

The man eyed the soldiers, then shrugged, his attention flickering to the plants in his bag. Callan took a step closer, assessing him with narrowed eyes. "Those plants—are they medicine?"

At this, the man's interest piqued. "I know healing," he said, his voice cool. "Is someone hurt?"

Callan motioned toward Ares, who was propped weakly against a tree. "A scorpion's tail got him. Poisoned."

The stranger's eyes darted to Ares, and without hesitation, he strode over and knelt, his movements swift but precise. Without a word, he tugged Ares' shirt higher, inspecting the wound with a clinical eye.

Ares cracked one eye open, his voice dry. "Always this handsy with strangers?"

The man ignored the comment, his hand hovering over the wound. Callan stepped closer, wary. "You know what you're doing?"

Instead of answering, the man pressed his hand over Ares' injury, and a cool, calming energy began to flow from his palm. Relief spread through Ares like water over parched soil, his pain melting as the wound started to knit together. Within moments, the injury had closed, leaving only a faint scar.

Ares blinked in shock. "Alright, that's new."

"How do you feel?" Callan asked, staring at the man, his expression a mixture of suspicion and gratitude.

"Like I could punch a dragon," Ares said with a faint grin. "Impressive magic."

The stranger stood, brushing dirt from his knees. "He needs rest. No travel until tomorrow."

"Thanks." Callan's eyes narrowed slightly. "What's your name?"

The man's gaze sharpened. "Sebastian. I'll help you—if you tag along to Skull Land."

Ares and Callan exchanged a look, both immediately wary.

"You sure about that?" Callan asked, his tone cautious. "It's not exactly safe."

"Good." Sebastian's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint within them. "I prefer danger."

Ares arched a brow. "What, looking for a death wish?"

Sebastian's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "No. Just unfinished business."

He turned slightly, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "Algos destroyed my clan—the Ophiuchus. I'm the last one left. And I intend to return the favor."

Callan's face hardened. "Algos wiped out the Ophiuchus?"

Sebastian nodded, his jaw clenching. "I was a child. The only survivor."

A heavy silence settled, the weight of his revelation sinking in. Ares studied Sebastian's face, catching a glimpse of the pain he masked behind those calm eyes.

"Well, great," Ares muttered. "A healer with a vendetta. What could possibly go wrong?"

Callan's lips quirked into a faint smile. "He did save your life. Might as well let him tag along."

Ares let out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But if he stabs us in our sleep, I'm haunting you, Callan."

***

Night settled around them, the fire crackling and casting warm light across the clearing. Ares lay back, finally free of pain, yet his mind buzzed with thoughts of Sebastian and the infamous Ophiuchus clan. He glanced across the fire at Sebastian, who sat quietly, a mix of intensity and calm as he meticulously peeled leaves from his gathered plants.

"Think we can trust him?" Ares murmured, looking to Callan, who was stretched out beside him.

Callan shrugged. "We need him more than he needs us right now. Besides," he added with a crooked grin, "what's the worst that could happen?"

Ares rolled his eyes, closing them as a tired smile played on his lips. "You just had to say that, didn't you?"

Callan chuckled, his laughter a comforting presence in the otherwise silent night.

For the first time in weeks, Ares felt optimism. His wounds healed, a new ally by his side, and a journey ahead—their adventure had only just begun, and things were about to get interesting.