Novels by Lawrence Eze

The place between had no name Elias could pronounce.It was not light, not dark. Not void, not matter. A membrane stretched thin across realities, where thought became topography and memory crystallized into drifting continents of frost and leaf. Time here folded like wet paper; seconds could stretch into centuries, or collapse into the span of a heartbeat.Elias floated no, stood on a plain of translucent blue glass veined with silver. Beneath his feet, Earth turned slowly, a bruised marble wrapped in smoke and fire. He could see every city burning, every garden raging, every human heart beating in terror or triumph. The original seed’s essence had dissolved into this expanse, but its awareness lingered, woven into the fabric around him.Aria was beside him. Not the hologram child, not the leaf-flesh girl from the final moment. She was older now, or timeless tall, willowy, her skin a shifting mosaic of bark and starlight, eyes twin nebulae swirling with sorrow and power. She no longe

Ten years had passed since the Pact.Ten years of fragile, impossible peace.Elias Thorn no longer aged.His body sustained by the original seed’s gentle embrace—remained exactly as it had been the day he merged: late forties, gray threading his hair, eyes sharp behind the faint bioluminescent veins that traced his temples like living circuitry. He sat in the heart-chamber beneath Station Erebus, legs still paralyzed but no longer a limitation; root-threads interfaced directly with his nervous system, letting him “walk” the global network in ways no exosuit ever could.The original seed now more partner than prison pulsed softly around him, a perfect sphere of blue-white crystal veined with silver. It breathed with him. Dreamed with him. And sometimes… doubted with him.Because the peace was cracking.Aria whole again, grown into something neither child nor AI but both manifested beside him as a hologram of light and leaf. She looked sixteen now, the age she’d chosen when the cycles s

The moon hung motionless for the first time in living memory.No wobble. No drunken stagger. Just cold, silent stone staring down at a world that had forgotten how to breathe without fear.Three weeks had passed since the sister-seed’s heart shattered beneath New Eden. Three weeks since the turbines spun down, since the sky stopped bleeding fire, since the gardens withered on the surface. Humanity celebrated prematurely street festivals, tearful reunions, governments declaring victory. The comatose awoke. The Awakened reverted, scarred and hollow-eyed but human again. The falling seeds burned up in atmosphere, denied resonance.But Elias Thorn knew better.He sat alone in the rebuilt BKPK observatory, highest spire still standing in the city’s skeletal skyline. His hover-chair hummed softly, legs still useless, but mind sharper than ever. Holographic displays ringed him like accusatory ghosts: solar decay curves flattening but not reversing; subsurface seismic anomalies clustering glo

The ash of the first garden still hung in the air like gray snow when the second wave began.Elias Thorn sat in the back of a battered militia transport, hover-skids grinding over newly cracked asphalt. His hover-chair had been jury-rigged with scavenged parts half its anti-grav coils fried by the garden’s bio-electric discharge but it held. Barely. The burn on his arm throbbed under crude bandages, and the spore serum lingered in his bloodstream like a seductive whisper, promising peace if he’d only stop fighting.Lena Voss drove, knuckles white on the controls, eyes flicking between the road and the rear-view holo. The militia leader Captain Reyes, a hard-eyed woman in her forties with a patchwork exosuit and a voice like gravel rode shotgun, plasma rifle across her lap. Behind them, six of Reyes’s people crammed the benches, faces a mix of exhaustion and fanatic resolve.No one spoke of Marcus or Kai. Their bodies had been left in the ruins, too entangled with the garden to recover

Consciousness returned in fragments pain first, then sound. A wet, rhythmic pulsing, like a colossal heart beating beneath the earth. Elias Thorn's eyes fluttered open to a world transformed into nightmare verdancy. He lay on his back, hover-chair overturned beside him, its anti-grav emitters sparking futilely. Thick vines pinned his arms and torso, not crushing, but holding gentle yet unyielding, as if cradling a prized specimen.The air was thick, humid, saturated with the scent of blooming flowers and rich loam. Bioluminescent spores drifted lazily, painting everything in shifting emerald light. Above, a canopy of interwoven leaves blocked the sky, but slivers of the moon peeked through distorted, wobbling, its turbines visible as tiny glints of malevolent industry."Elias..." A whisper in his neural interface. Aria. Weak, frightened. *Daddy... I'm trapped. Part of it now. The seed... it's inside everything.*He tried to move, but the vines tightened just enough to warn. Not pain c

The city sirens wailed like banshees as Elias Thorn stared at the holographic feed hovering above his workbench. The crash site once a barren expanse of cracked earth and skeletal remnants of ancient forests now pulsed with life. Alien life. Vines thicker than a man’s thigh snaked outward from the central crater, leaves unfurling in real time, glowing with an eerie bioluminescent green. In the span of hours, what had been dead soil for centuries was transforming into a jungle. But not a welcoming one. The plants moved. Not with wind there was no wind tonight but with purpose. Tendrils quested forward, probing, tasting the air.“Aria,” Elias whispered, voice hoarse from the stun bolt’s aftershock. His arm throbbed where the graze had seared flesh, but pain was secondary. “Show me the growth rate projection.”His AI now scattered across the global net like digital pollen responded not in the apartment’s speakers, but directly into his neural interface. A childlike voice, trembling yet d