The morning sun barely cut through the misty air, which hung low over the forest, a quiet reminder of the night before. They had survived the toxic fog, taking refuge in the old car, but the suffocating tension between Clarke and Wells lingered long after the danger had passed.
Ares stood outside the car, leaning against a nearby tree, his mind working through the details of the conversation he overheard between Clarke and Wells the previous night. He hadn't intervened then—he didn't need to. He already knew the truth about Clarke's father, a remnant from the memories of his past life. But hearing it spoken aloud confirmed it in this reality.
He'd known Abby Griffin was the one who betrayed Clarke's father to the Council, a secret Wells had taken on himself to shield Clarke from the pain of the truth. Ares had lived through a lifetime of deception and betrayal; this was just another piece of the puzzle falling into place. But to anyone else, it would seem odd for him to know such a secret.
Ares needed a reason—a logical one—for understanding the truth.
He glanced toward Wells, who sat quietly on the hood of the car, still deep in thought. Clarke was still asleep inside, giving him the moment he needed to approach Wells without raising suspicion. Now was the time to ask.
"Wells," Ares said, walking over and keeping his voice calm but curious. He leaned casually against the car, pretending to be just another concerned ally, not someone with an entire lifetime of memories behind him. "About last night... What Clarke said about you turning in her father. Was that really true?"
Wells tensed visibly, but kept his gaze forward. "I told her it was," he replied, his voice soft, but firm.
Ares studied him closely. He already knew the truth, but Wells' hesitation confirmed the conflict inside him. Taking the blame for something he hadn't done was wearing on him, but he wasn't about to tell Clarke the truth. Not yet.
"You told her it was," Ares repeated, pressing gently. "But was it?"
Wells finally turned to look at Ares. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then, after a slow, deep breath, he shook his head. "No," he admitted. "It wasn't me."
Ares kept his expression neutral, though internally, he already knew what was coming. "Who was it, then?"
Wells looked down at his hands, his fingers gripping the edge of the car's hood. "Her mother," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Abby. She's the one who told the Council."
Ares nodded, a thoughtful hum escaping him. "But you took the blame anyway. Why?"
Wells sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Clarke's lost enough already. If she knew her mother was responsible for her father's death... she'd never forgive her. And Abby's all she has left." He paused, swallowing hard. "I'd rather Clarke hate me than lose her mother, too."
There it was. The confirmation Ares had been waiting for. He had known this already from his past life's memories, but now, Wells had given him a reason to "know" it in this life. Wells had willingly accepted Clarke's anger to protect her from a deeper heartbreak. It was a noble gesture, but Ares knew it wouldn't last. Sooner or later, Clarke would find out the truth, and when she did, it would shatter everything.
"You're carrying a heavy burden," Ares said quietly, respecting Wells' choice. "But you're right—it'll come out eventually."
Wells nodded slowly, his expression dark. "I know. But until then, I'll keep letting her hate me if it means she still has someone left."
Ares watched Wells for a moment longer before turning his gaze toward the horizon. Clarke wouldn't be asleep much longer, and the fog had lifted enough for them to move. They had already found the seaweed, and now they just needed to bring it back to camp. The sooner they returned, the sooner Derek's wound could be treated, and the group could focus on other pressing matters.
But Wells' confession had provided something more important. Ares could now navigate around the secret he already knew, thanks to Wells' openness. Now, when the time came, Ares could speak about Clarke's mother without arousing suspicion.
"Let's get moving," Ares said, standing up and stretching his legs. "We should bring the seaweed back to camp."
Wells agreed with a nod, his thoughts still clouded by the weight of his confession.
As Ares stepped back toward the car to check on Clarke, he couldn't help but think about the fragile nature of secrets. He'd lived long enough to know that they didn't stay buried forever. And when this one surfaced, it would change everything for Clarke, Wells, and Abby.
But for now, Ares kept his knowledge close, letting Wells believe he'd uncovered the truth on his own terms. Clarke wasn't ready for it—not yet.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the fog cleared completely, and it was time to move. Ares threw one last glance at Wells, his mind still turning over the consequences of the truth they were all trying to bury.
"Let's head back to camp," Ares said as Clarke stirred awake. It wasn't time for more revelations. Not yet.
But soon, the secrets of the past would collide with the present—and none of them would be able to hide from the fallout.
As they finished collecting their stuff and prepared to head back to camp, Ares couldn't help but reflect on the conversation he'd had with Wells. Despite the tension between Clarke and Wells, Ares' ability to subtly steer the conversation had yielded valuable insights. He noticed that people were starting to open up to him more easily, sharing truths they might otherwise have kept hidden.
Suddenly, a familiar notification blinked in his vision:
New Passive Skill Unlocked: Charismatic Insight
Description: Your presence encourages others to open up, improving the chances of gaining valuable information or forming deeper bonds with those around you.
With a small smile, Ares closed the notification and glanced back at Clarke and Wells. His ability to influence those around him was growing, just as he had hoped.