Chapter 22: End of the Prologue

The camp they made was small, only enough to fit three people at max.

Helenos hauled himself another three feet up—shoulders scraping against damp limestone.

The warmth from the coin had faded back into a dull, dormant thrum, leaving nothing but the coldness.

Every breath was a wet rattle. Fog wasn't just in his head anymore; it was in his lungs, thick and cloying.

"Lykos?" he croaked.

The name echoed throw the structure.

There was nothing.

Helenos paused, bracing his back against one wall and boots against the other. He looked down into the throat of the shaft.

Nothing.

No sound of breathing, no scraping of boots, no cursing.

"Lykos, if you're trying to be dramatic, now isn't the time!"

Silence.

Agitation surged, cutting through exhaustion. He scrambled back down a few feet, risking a slip that’d send him into the abyss. He reached the shelf where he'd last seen the man.

Empty.

The narrow ledge was just a desolate strip of grey rock under the moon.

Lykos was gone.

The coward left me, Helenos thought, fingers digging into stone until nails bled.

Maybe Lykos never intended to go to the caves at all.

Maybe the "North Star" was just a direction for a man who needed to disappear alone.

A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat. So focused on not being a game piece, he hadn't noticed his only "ally" had simply walked off the board.

"Fine," he whispered, voice trembling with fury and terror. "Fine. I’ll do it by myself.”

No choice but to keep moving. He forced himself out of the structure onto a secondary path that slanted upward.

If he stayed still, he would eventually get caught by Menelaia’s woman.

If he went back, Menelaia would beat him.

He stumbled forward after tripping over a rock.

He had to go somewhere.

But what if he lied to him?

He still had to get away.

The thought snapped as a sound made his blood turn to ice.

A howl.

Not a wolf. Deeper, more rhythmic—the sound of the Queen’s hounds. They weren't hunting for sport; they were tracking.

And they were close.

Helenos looked back.

Down the slope, maybe a hundred yards away, orange torches flickered.

But the eyes caught the light—dozens of tiny, glowing amber sparks moving low to the ground. The hounds were silent now, saving breath for the kill.

"Get moving," he hissed. "Keep moving."

He tried to run.

On a flat road, he might’ve made a hundred yards.

But in this forest, he managed ten before a foot skidded. He went down hard on bruised ribs, air leaving him in a pathetic whistle. He scrambled up, hands raw, and shoved himself forward.

He had no idea where the path led.

The mountain was a wall of teeth, and he was a piece of meat sliding between them.

The hounds bayed again—closer.

The sound echoed off rock faces, making it seem like they were coming from everywhere. Heart hammering against ribs so hard it felt like it’d break bone.

I can’t. I can’t do this.

He rounded a jagged corner.

Flat expanse of rock. A dead end. Above, a sheer cliff, fifty feet of smooth limestone with no holds. Behind, the slope.

He turned, gasping, back to the wall.

A massive, scarred beast appeared over the rise—heavy jaw of a mastiff, lean legs of a wolf. It stopped, head low, a growl vibrating in its chest. Then the second. Then the third.

Behind them, three figures emerged from the dark.

Guards.

They wore the crimson leather of the Queen’s elite scouts.

Spears gleamed.

"Look at that," one said—a woman with a jagged scar across her nose. She stepped forward, spear leveled. "The Prince found a corner to die in."

"Don't kill him yet," another muttered. "The Queen wants him alive."

Helenos looked at her. No mercy. Just the boredom of a hunter who'd finally cornered a rabbit.

"I'm not going back," he said, voice a broken rasp.

He tried to lunge past her, a desperate, pathetic attempt to reach the slope.

He was fast, fueled by a final, frantic surge of adrenaline, but he was weak.

She didn't even flinch.

She pivoted, the butt of the spear tripping him.

As he stumbled, she didn't stop.

She drove the bronze head downward.

The pain was unlike anything he'd ever known.

The spearhead tore through the meat of his thigh, pinning his leg to the ground.

Helenos screamed.

He fell back, hands clutching the shaft, eyes wide with shock.

His head had hit a rock.

The world turned brilliant, blinding white.

"He’s not going anywhere now," she said.

She stepped on his chest for leverage and wrenched the spear out. Helenos’s head snapped back, skull cracking against the limestone wall.

The white light turned to black.

He felt the coldness of stone.

The wet heat of blood soaking his tunic.

Life was a liquid, pouring out of the hole in his leg and onto the indifferent mountain.

The stars above started to fade, the black sky pressing down like a heavy velvet curtain.

Haa…Haa

It hurts

It hurts

consciousness flickering like a dying candle. I should have stayed in the tower.

He heard the guards talking, but the voices sounded like they were underwater.

"Oh great Olympus, he dead?" one asked, poking his arm with a boot.

"He’s cute," Mara said. She knelt beside him, shadow falling over his face. She ran a gloved finger through the blood on his leg, then looked at the others. "Look at him. Soft. Well-fed. He looks tasty, doesn't he?"

“Wow, I knew that you liked men a lot, Mara, but even when he’s dying…”

“That’s not the point,”

"Ha… what are you talking about, Mara?"

Mara looked at the palace in the distance. "You know the Queen. If we bring him back dead, she won't just kill us. She’ll spend a week doing it. She’ll have the skin off our backs before we can even beg."

The other guards went silent.

Fear of Menelaia was a palpable thing, heavier than the night air.

"So?"

"So," Mara said, a cruel, hungry light in her eyes.

She looked back at Helenos, who was staring up with unseeing eyes, breath shallow.

"If we’re going to die anyway, why not do anything we want? The hounds are hungry, and so am I. At least we get a taste of a prince."

She leaned closer, the scent of iron and sweat filling his nose. She smiled, showing yellowed teeth.

"He’s married," she whispered. "How would it feel if the queen sees this…"

He heard the scrape of a knife being pulled from a sheath.

He wanted to fight.

Wanted to shout.

But limbs were stuck in their places by the guards, who were hungry for love.

If I had another chance, he thought one last time.

The guards took of his worn clothing.

Helenos’ conscious slowly faded away.

Then…

Ding!

[System Warning!]

[User status: ….]

[User status: D…]

[User status: De..]

[User status: Dea.]

[User status: Dead]

[Immediate Response Needed!]

[Finding Solution…]

[…]

[Found]

[Restarting…]

Then the world went quiet.

.

Wow. Finally

Ps: system is such a cheat. It takes too much space and wording. I never knew… It’s’s’s’s just not fair that people use this to increase their letter-number(Is it how you call it?) Well, Thank you. It took a long time for the prologue. Well, let’s talk about angst. I deleted that tag since I don’t think this will be that tragic enough for it. Sure there are a lot of novels that are not angst with those tags, but I don’t really want to lie anymore. Well, thank you for reading. Here is my sincerity (it is hand written):

Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you

Here’s the hut that helenos slept in.