Chapter 12: Mercy and Warnings

The sky was a dull shade of gray as Ares and Clarke made their way through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The encounter with the acid fog still hung in the air like a bad memory, but their minds were preoccupied with a different goal now—getting back to camp with the seaweed they had found to help treat Derek's wound. The atmosphere between them was tense but not hostile. Clarke's thoughts were distant, still circling around her conversation with Wells the night before.

Ares noticed her quietness, and after a few minutes of walking in silence, he decided to speak up.

"You know, Clarke," Ares said casually, though his tone was deliberate, "I've been thinking about what you said back in the car—about Wells and your father."

Clarke's pace slowed, her brow furrowing slightly as she looked at Ares. "What about it?"

He glanced at her briefly, his gaze measured. "You seemed so certain that Wells was the one who turned your father in. But... are you sure? I mean, did it ever cross your mind that maybe it wasn't him?"

Clarke stopped walking altogether, turning to fully face Ares. "What are you trying to say?" There was a sharp edge to her voice, a defensiveness rising as she held his gaze.

Ares shrugged lightly, as if merely posing a hypothetical. "Wells has always been the kind of guy to protect people, even at his own expense. It just got me thinking, maybe he's trying to protect you from hating someone else... someone closer to you."

Clarke's eyes widened for a moment, her mind racing. Ares watched her carefully, knowing he was planting seeds of doubt—seeds he already knew the answer to. From his past life's memories, he knew exactly who had turned in Clarke's father. It wasn't Wells, but rather Abby, Clarke's own mother. But Ares couldn't reveal that outright. He needed to nudge Clarke toward the truth herself.

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the sound of rustling ahead caught their attention. Ares stiffened, his senses immediately alert. Through the trees, two figures emerged—Bellamy, and a third person slumped against him.

It was Atom.

Clarke gasped as she saw the state he was in. His body was burned and ravaged, his skin blistered and raw, likely from the acid fog. He could barely stand, his legs dragging behind him as Bellamy half-carried him forward.

"Bellamy!" Clarke rushed over, her eyes widening as she took in Atom's condition.

"He's bad," Bellamy grunted, struggling under Atom's weight. "He couldn't outrun the fog. He got caught in it."

Clarke knelt beside Atom, her fingers gently inspecting the seared flesh on his arms and face. The damage was too severe, and as she pressed her hand to his chest, she could feel the shallow rise and fall of his breathing. Each breath was labored, like his body was struggling to hold onto life with every passing second.

Her eyes flicked to Bellamy, full of sorrow and regret. "He's too far gone," she whispered. "There's nothing we can do."

Bellamy's face hardened, his jaw clenching. "We can't just leave him like this. We can't let him suffer."

Ares watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. He had seen this kind of pain before—the slow, torturous decline of someone who was beyond saving. He understood mercy, perhaps better than anyone in this group.

Clarke stood, turning away from Atom, her face a mask of anguish. She was trying to bring herself to do it. Her hands, so used to healing and saving, were shaking now.

Bellamy's gaze darted between Clarke and Atom, his chest tightening with frustration. "We have to—" he began, but stopped when Ares stepped forward.

"I'll do it," Ares said calmly, his voice steady and assured.

Bellamy looked at him, his eyes searching Ares' face, but he didn't protest. He couldn't. The agony in Atom's groans said everything that needed to be said.

Clarke's shoulders tensed as Ares moved past her. She knew this was the right thing to do, but that didn't make it any easier.

Ares knelt beside Atom, who was now barely conscious, his eyes fluttering as his body trembled with the effort to keep breathing. He placed a hand on Atom's chest, feeling the faint beat of his heart.

"It's alright," Ares whispered, his voice soft yet resolute. "No more pain."

Atom's eyes met Ares' for a brief moment, and in that instant, there was an understanding. Ares' hand moved smoothly to Atom's mouth, covering it gently, pressing firmly but not harshly. It didn't take long. Within moments, Atom's chest stilled, his suffering finally over.

A heavy silence fell over the forest. Clarke turned her head away, biting her lip, her body rigid with grief. Bellamy clenched his fists at his sides, fighting back the emotions that threatened to spill over.

As Ares stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, he noticed a movement in the corner of his vision. He turned his head slightly and saw her—Charlotte. The small girl was hiding behind a tree, watching the entire scene unfold with wide, terrified eyes.

Ares' gaze lingered on her for a moment, his thoughts flashing back to his memories of her. He knew what Charlotte would do. In his past life, she had been the one to kill Wells, driven by her fear and the twisted interpretation of Bellamy's teachings. Ares' jaw tightened as he recalled that dark moment.

But this time, he had the power to change things. He wasn't going to let history repeat itself. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Charlotte, to stop her before she made that irreversible mistake.

Clarke exhaled a shaky breath, turning back to Ares and Bellamy. "We need to get back to camp," she said quietly, trying to focus on what came next.

Bellamy nodded, his face grim as he picked up Atom's now-lifeless body. "We'll bury him there."

As they started making their way back, Ares couldn't shake the feeling of Charlotte's eyes on him. He glanced back one last time, seeing her small figure still watching them, her face pale and drawn. She was carrying a darkness inside her, one that Ares had to be ready for.

As they walked, Clarke fell into step beside Ares. "What you said earlier..." she murmured, her voice low. "About Wells... I don't know. I need time to think."

Ares nodded, not pressing the issue. He knew the truth would reveal itself soon enough.

But for now, he had other things to worry about—like making sure Charlotte didn't turn into the killer she had become in the future he remembered.

The horn had sounded, the acid fog had come and gone, and now they were heading back to camp. But the real danger was still lurking, just beneath the surface.

And Ares was determined to stay ahead of it.