2025-08-01 04:01:24“I promise.”
Ares said it quietly, as Elijah stirred faintly in his arms - eyes fluttering but not waking. The boy’s cheek rested against his father’s chest, and for a moment, Ares didn’t think about legacy, or structure, or the fractured city at his back.
Just the warmth of his son’s breath.
Just the weight of that promise.
He looked out toward the distant skyline, jagged silhouettes under a bruised sky. Somewhere, fires still burned - controlled ones now. Cleanup teams. Volunteers. Survivors who refused to wait for someone else to fix what had been broken.
Mira sat beside him, one hand resting gently on his knee. She hadn’t spoken since he whispered those words. But she didn’t need to. Her silence was a thread between them - a shared truth that stretched across too many years and too much pain.
When Elijah shifted again, Ares lowered him carefully, wrapping the blanket tighter before rising to his feet. Mira followed, brushing dirt from her coat.
“You heading inside?” she asked.
Ares shook his head. “Not yet.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly. “Where then?”
He glanced east. “There’s one place I haven’t gone back to.”
She didn’t ask. She just nodded. “I’ll tell Kara where you went.”
He paused, then turned to her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not trying to stop me.”
Mira smiled - not a wide one, but real. “I stopped trying to cage you a long time ago, Ares. Just... don’t bleed alone.”
“I won’t.”
And then he walked.
...
The old holding yard still stood, though half the fence had collapsed inward and the floodlights hung like dead vines. Ares stepped through the twisted gate without hesitation.
This place had once been a detainment center. Pre-collapse. Then a staging ground for mercenaries. Later, the Resistance used it to house civilians too dangerous to be trusted - but too useful to discard.
Now it was just hollow space and broken concrete.
He walked past the old cells - metal doors half rusted off, graffiti layered over scorch marks. A child’s drawing was still taped to one wall: a red sun, three stick figures, and the word home.
Ares stopped in front of the center cell.
This was where they’d held him the day after Fallujah footage leaked. Where Mira had stared at him like she didn’t recognize him anymore. Where Reyes punched the wall instead of his face. Where Elijah cried on the other side of the glass, reaching for a father who couldn’t explain what war did to men.
He lowered himself onto the cold bench inside.
And breathed.
It came out ragged - half sigh, half exorcism.
Not because he wanted to relive it.
But because he needed to forgive it.
...
Footsteps approached slowly from outside. Ares didn’t turn. He already knew the sound.
Hawk leaned against the cell’s doorway, arms crossed.
“Didn’t think you’d come back here,” he said.
Ares kept his eyes forward. “Figured I owed the past a proper goodbye.”
Hawk let out a short laugh. “We burned the files. Torched every recording. You don’t owe it a damn thing.”
“I do,” Ares said quietly. “Because it made me. And I don’t want that to be true forever.”
There was a pause.
Then Hawk’s voice softened. “You don’t have to be ashamed of what you survived.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Ares replied. “I’m just done letting it be the only thing that defines me.”
That silence came again - heavy, unspoken, earned.
Eventually, Ares stood.
He looked at Hawk.
“We build from here.”
“Agreed.”
They stepped out into the sun together.
...
By midday, Ares stood before a wide half-circle of folding tables inside the new Assembly Hall. What used to be a public library had been stripped of books and replaced with blueprints, radios, and clipped briefings.
Representatives from each district sat waiting.
Some wore militia uniforms, others civilian jackets patched with neighborhood insignias. A woman from the South End had a baby strapped to her chest. An older man from the railway commune chewed sunflower seeds between updates.
At the head of the room, Reyes stood.
“All present,” he said. “We begin.”
Ares didn’t rise. He remained seated, hands clasped before him.
“You already know what I’ve agreed to,” he began. “Six months. No reelection. No statue. No shrine.”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the room.
“I’m not here to govern you,” he continued. “I’m here to make sure we don’t forget what we crawled out of. And that no one - no matter how powerful - gets to decide for all of us again.”
The South End woman raised her hand. “And when your six months are up?”
Ares looked at her, eyes steady. “Then I go home. To my son. And I let you choose what comes next.”
She nodded.
And no one argued.
...
Outside, the line of citizens waiting to speak with the council stretched three blocks long.
Ares stood with Reyes under a tarp, going over supply reports and border stability. The rain had started again - thin and cold, but not the drowning kind. Just enough to remind them they were still alive.
“Defense grids holding on east perimeter,” Reyes said. “But we’ve got food strain in sector nine. Too many new mouths.”
“Redirect from the northern cache,” Ares replied. “That convoy missed its last rotation anyway.”
Reyes scribbled something on his notepad. “And the scout team you sent to Blackridge?”
“Returned last night. No hostiles. Just silence.”
Reyes looked up. “That’s worse.”
Ares didn’t disagree.
They kept working - no speeches, no titles. Just hands on the wheel.
...
That night, Ares returned to the barracks.
Elijah was awake, curled up with a battered book Kara had found in a supply run - The Little Prince, half-missing pages but still intact.
“You reading that one again?” Ares asked as he sat beside him.
Elijah nodded. “It’s not really about space.”
“No,” Ares said. “It’s about what we leave behind. And what we choose to carry.”
The boy looked up. “Do you still carry it, Dad? The war?”
Ares swallowed.
“Some of it,” he said honestly. “But I carry you more.”
Elijah leaned into him, quiet.
Then: “Can I come with you tomorrow?”
Ares blinked. “Where?”
“To the meetings. The ones where people talk about fixing things.”
He smiled.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “You can come.”
...
Mira found them there an hour later - both asleep on the floor, Elijah curled under his father’s arm, and the book open between them.
She didn’t wake them.
She just sat nearby.
Watching.
And for the first time in years, the city felt like it might be enough.
Not because the danger was over.
But because the man they waited for had finally stopped running.
And started building.
...
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
ASH IN THE VEINS
The steel slab still stood at the western ridgeline when Ares returned at midday. The sun was higher now, carving the message deeper into the scorched metal with every flicker of heat. He didn’t touch it. Didn’t have to. The words were burned behind his eyes.We are not your past. We are your consequence.He stood there a moment longer, wind tugging at the collar of his coat, the dry scent of dust and burnt wire rising from the earth. Reyes approached from behind, silent, until the crunch of his boots gave him away.“They’re not just warning us,” he said. “They’re staging something. Making a show of memory.”Ares nodded slowly. “And calling it justice.”Reyes looked out toward the hills. “You think it’s just Vale?”“No.” Ares didn’t blink. “I think it’s what Vale left behind. A creed. A code. A wound still bleeding after all this time.”Reyes crossed his arms. “I’ve buried too many men to be haunted by ghosts.”Ares looked at him. “Then start digging again. Because this war... it didn
THOSE WHO REMEMBER
Because now, they had something worth defending.And for Ares Kai - the man who once lived only to destroy - that made him more dangerous than ever.The rooftop wind brushed over him, sharp with the chill of dusk but filled with the scent of food cooking in shared courtyards and the murmur of distant laughter. It was the kind of night that made a man forget, if only for a moment, how much blood had stained his past.But forgetting wasn’t an option.Mira stood at his side in silence. Her hand had long since slipped from his, but her presence hadn’t. She leaned against the railing, watching the city breathe. Her eyes were calm, but her voice, when it came, held a quiet weight.“Do you think they’ll come here? The ones watching?”He didn’t answer right away.Then, “Not yet. But they’ve taken notice.”She tilted her head. “Of you?”“No,” he said. “Of us.”Mira glanced back at the glowing blocks of Lin City - at the rebuilt shelters, the lights flickering in the old Assembly Hall, the hum
THE WEIGHT OF STILLNESS
Ares didn’t move.He sat by Elijah’s bedside long after the boy had turned back into sleep, his small hands tucked beneath his cheek, his breaths soft and untroubled. The notebook lay closed beside them - those sketches still etched into Ares’ mind.That last drawing... the three of them standing beneath a sun not yet drawn. No smoke. No sirens. No shadows clawing at the edge of their peace. Just presence.Ares leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his head buried in his hands. His back ached from old wounds. His fingers were calloused from war. But none of that compared to the pressure behind his ribs now - the unfamiliar weight of not having to fight.Outside, the windowpane rattled gently in the breeze. There was no storm tonight. No cries. No coded transmissions. Just wind brushing across the roof and the distant clatter of tools as the early workers began their shifts.Mira’s door was still ajar across the hall, warm light spilling through the gap. He could have gone to her
EMBERS AND ROOTS
Mira didn’t move for a long time.She sat cross-legged on the floor, her arms resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the sleeping boy and the man beside him. The only sound was the low hum of the generator outside and the steady breath of a child who finally, finally, had no reason to be afraid.Ares didn’t speak either. He leaned back against the wall, knees bent, one hand resting protectively near Elijah’s shoulder, the other slack on his thigh. Every now and then, his eyes flickered open - checking, listening - but the tension he used to wear like armor had softened into something else.Stillness.Not weakness. Not surrender.Just the absence of running.Mira eventually pushed herself up, bones stiff, and moved to sit beside Ares. He shifted slightly, making room, careful not to wake the boy.They didn’t touch - not yet. But their shoulders were close enough to share warmth.“You should sleep too,” she murmured.“I will,” Ares said. “Just... not yet.”She nodded.A long breath passed
THE PROMISE OF STAYING
The Assembly Hall was quiet the next morning.Not silent - there were distant boots on tile, quiet murmurs of volunteers laying cables and pinning up maps -but the kind of quiet that came after storms. The kind you earned. Ares stood near the north-facing window, watching as the mist lifted off the shattered rooftops of Lin City.Behind him, Elijah tugged at his sleeve.“Is this where they argue?” he asked.Ares smirked. “Sometimes. Mostly, they try to listen.”Elijah nodded solemnly, like that was harder.The boy wore a scarf too big for him and boots slightly too worn. His hair still stuck up in wild tufts from sleep, and he held The Little Prince under one arm like it was a secret weapon. Ares rested a steady hand on his son’s back as they stepped inside.Some of the council members were already seated. Kara gave a quick wave. The woman from the South End was bouncing her baby with one hand and flipping through ration figures with the other. Hawk stood by the coffee dispenser, pour
THE WEIGHT OF PEACE
The Assembly Hall was quiet the next morning.Not silent - there were distant boots on tile, quiet murmurs of volunteers laying cables and pinning up maps - but the kind of quiet that came after storms. The kind you earned. Ares stood near the north-facing window, watching as the mist lifted off the shattered rooftops of Lin City.Behind him, Elijah tugged at his sleeve.“Is this where they argue?” he asked.Ares smirked. “Sometimes. Mostly, they try to listen.”Elijah nodded solemnly, like that was harder.The boy wore a scarf too big for him and boots slightly too worn. His hair still stuck up in wild tufts from sleep, and he held The Little Prince under one arm like it was a secret weapon. Ares rested a steady hand on his son’s back as they stepped inside.Some of the council members were already seated. Kara gave a quick wave. The woman from the South End was bouncing her baby with one hand and flipping through ration figures with the other. Hawk stood by the coffee dispenser, pou
