Novels by Shonowo Adeniyi Moses

“No,” he said. “But it’s beginning.”Elijah didn’t say anything. He just looked out across the river, toward the jagged skyline of Lin City - blackened, bent, but still standing. His small hand clutched Ares’ fingers tighter, not out of fear, but to make sure his father was real.The city was quiet.Not peaceful - just... quiet. The kind of silence that came after screaming. After bullets stopped flying. After people stopped dying. The kind that wasn’t earned but left behind, like a breath held too long.Ares crouched down beside Elijah and looked him in the eye.“You’ll hear people say it’s over,” he murmured. “But truth is, son... endings are easy. What comes next, that’s the hard part.”Elijah nodded slowly, as if he understood more than a child should.Ares ruffled his hair gently, then stood. “Come on. Let’s head back before the soup gets cold.”...The walk back was slow. Not because of Elijah’s pace, but because people stopped Ares every few steps.Not to thank him.Just to loo

The rain returned just before dawn.Ares stood alone at the old training field behind the Eastern Barracks. Not the sleek combat simulators they used now - this was dirt and grit, sandbags and rusted goalposts, where men once learned to bleed before they learned to lead. He held a wooden training sword in one hand, the other flexing and clenching like he could still feel the weight of Wu’s final blow in his wrist.Across from him stood Hawk, stripped to the waist, scarred and silent, watching.The silence between them wasn’t hostile. It was history.“You sure about this?” Hawk finally asked, voice rough.Ares nodded once. “I need to feel it. Not just the win. The weight of it. Otherwise... I carry it like a ghost.”Hawk didn’t question that. He simply stepped forward, raising his own dull-edged blade.The first clash was clean - a simple strike-and-parry. Then another. Then Ares stepped into the second blow, letting it scrape past his ribs as he turned and drove his shoulder into Hawk

Ares didn’t sleep that night.While Mira and Elijah rested in the med-bunker, wrapped in peace they had long been denied, he sat outside beneath the concrete awning, elbows on knees, eyes fixed on the city slowly rebirthing itself. Lin City, for the first time in years, was quiet -not because it was dead, but because it had finally exhaled.His hands were still bloodstained, knuckles split. The fight with Victor Wu had been short, brutal - and necessary. But the victory hadn’t cleansed him. Not really.“You look like a man still waiting for the war to start,” said a voice behind him.Ares didn’t turn. “I’m waiting for the part where it’s actually over.”Reyes stepped into the light, carrying two cups of bitter soldier’s coffee. He handed one over. “You’ve done enough, brother.”“No,” Ares said. “Not yet.”Reyes sat beside him, grimacing as he lowered himself to the cold step. “You’re still thinking about Fallujah.”“Always,” Ares said softly. “Wu showed the footage for a reason. He th

“We’re going home.”Ares whispered it like a vow, pressing his lips to Elijah’s hair. The boy clung to him tighter, as if some part of him knew those words weren’t just comfort - they were a promise built on blood.Mira stood at his side, silent, her hand finding Ares’ without needing to search. The candles flickered across the plaza as families mourned, survivors whispered names onto the memorial wall, and city dust settled like ash after a storm.But beneath it all, Ares felt it.The quiet wasn’t peace.It was a warning....Back in the apartment - what was left of it - the old living room still smelled like soot and rust. Elijah was asleep on a makeshift mattress near the heater. Mira moved through the space like someone reclaiming old territory, her hands brushing across cracked walls, broken frames, and bullet-pocked memories.Ares stood near the window, staring out at the city that still looked half-drowned in smoke.“Everything feels... paused,” Mira said behind him.“It’s beca

Elijah's arms were thin but strong around his father’s neck, as though in the days of sleep his boy had found new purpose - not just survival, but belonging. Ares held him close, his forehead resting gently against the boy’s temple, inhaling the scent of clean linen and warmth.“I missed you,” Elijah whispered.Ares’ voice caught before it could form. He didn’t trust it - too much gravel, too much memory, too much grief packed into syllables. So he simply nodded, hand brushing through his son’s hair.Mira stood nearby, unmoving - arms folded, but not in coldness. She was holding herself together. Her eyes shimmered, not with sadness, but with the fragile tension of a woman who had waited too long to hope.The silence lingered like a sacred thing.Then Elijah spoke again, smaller this time. “Is it really over?”Ares pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “The war is.”“But the world...?”Ares smiled faintly, brushing a hand along Elijah’s cheek. “The world’s broken, son. But

Ares walked through the bleeding edge of the city, where frost kissed shattered glass and the bones of rebellion had not yet been buried. The Oracle Tower loomed ahead - not shining, not proud. Just tall. Empty of soul, but filled with power.The wind howled as if warning him away.He didn’t stop.Every memory pressed in as he neared the gates: the nights in Fallujah when he’d dragged broken brothers through fire, the betrayal that had carved a hole in his chest when Mira married another, the moment he held his son for the first time and realized what kind of man he had to become.Now it all came here - not to win a war, but to end one.Reyes’s voice came through the earpiece. “You’re approaching blind. No active jammers. He wants you seen.”“I know,” Ares muttered. “He’s baiting me.”“Careful. There’s pride... and then there’s suicide.”Ares looked up at the Tower’s blinking apex. “This isn’t pride.”A silent pause. Then Reyes replied, “I believe you. Make it count.”The main doors w