2025-08-01 09:49:45Ares 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. Should have. But his feet didn’t move. Not out of fear... but hesitation.
He had marched through fields soaked in blood. Survived betrayals from men he once trusted. Tore down empires and carved silence into his enemies. But now he was asked to do something infinitely harder.
Stay.
And staying, for someone like him, was not about rest. It was about presence. About being seen. About being known.
He reached out, gently tucked the corner of the blanket over Elijah’s shoulder, and let out a slow breath.
Tomorrow... would come. And he had no idea what it would bring.
...
By midmorning, Lin City’s Assembly Hall buzzed with motion. Paper maps unfurled over makeshift tables. Voices filled the air - talking about crop schedules, spring irrigation lines, power reroutes. For once, they weren’t plotting war. They were planning how to live.
Ares arrived carrying crates of salvaged copper and a half-finished schematic Reyes had drawn in charcoal. Before he could drop them off, Kara flagged him down with a clipboard.
“You’re going to hate this,” she said, eyes twinkling.
“Then you should probably give it to Reyes.”
She shoved the clipboard into his chest anyway. “We’re reestablishing the North Wing as a school. Proper curriculum. Real teachers. Discipline. But we need hands to clear it out and reinforce the roof before we get anyone inside.”
He stared at the clipboard, then at her. “You want me to build a school?”
“I want you to stop letting Reyes teach math,” she said dryly. “So yes.”
He glanced at the old hand-drawn floor plan - warped walls, collapsed ceiling, a crude sketch of a garden behind the structure. For a moment, his mind drifted back to Elijah’s drawing.
He nodded. “I’ll start today.”
Kara blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“I’ve rebuilt bunkers, Kara. I can handle chalkboards.”
She smiled. “Strange man, Ares Kai.”
He smirked faintly. “Stranger things have lived.”
...
Dust clouded the corridor as Ares kicked open a rusted door. The North Wing was worse than he expected - cracked beams, shattered glass, moss on every surface. But beneath the decay, it still stood.
As he hauled out broken desks and splintered chairs, laughter echoed from down the hallway.
He turned, instinctively on guard.
Then froze.
Elijah stood at the far end, holding a dripping paintbrush in one hand and a dented bucket in the other. His oversized boots squeaked on the tiles. Smudges of blue and yellow marked his cheeks.
“Mr. Kai!” he called. “We’re painting the walls!”
Behind him, three other kids worked with solemn determination, dragging wide brushes across the bricks in long, uneven strokes.
Ares stepped toward them. “You’re skipping classes already?”
“There’s no classes yet,” Elijah grinned.
“Smart kid.”
Elijah held out a second brush. “Wanna help?”
Ares hesitated. War, he understood. Construction, he could manage. But this? He looked at the paintbrush like it was some strange weapon.
Elijah didn’t move. Just stood there, hope written all over his face.
Ares sighed and knelt. “Alright. Show me what we’re painting.”
“Anything,” Elijah beamed.
...
By sundown, the North Wing didn’t look like a ruin anymore.
It looked like a beginning.
The bricks were dappled in bright blues and greens. A crooked sun blazed above a line of stick figures holding hands. There were messy trees, upside-down hearts, and a dragon that looked suspiciously like Reyes.
Ares stepped back, wiping sweat and paint from his brow.
“You missed a spot,” Mira said behind him.
He turned. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a gentle smirk tugging at her mouth.
“Came to inspect my work?”
“More like admire your brush technique.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”
She walked to him, pausing beside the newly painted wall.
“You’re here,” she said softly. “That’s all that matters.”
He looked at her, serious. “Is it?”
She didn’t answer with words. Just slipped her hand into his.
And this time, he didn’t let go.
...
That night, the wind returned - but not with cold. It carried warmth. Laughter from the lower blocks. Music from an old radio in the market square. Someone trying -badly - to play a love song on a salvaged guitar.
And beneath all that, something stirred.
A whisper.
Not of danger. Not yet. But attention.
Ares sat alone on the Assembly rooftop, watching Lin City glow below. He had felt it since midday. A shift in the air. Not violent... but watchful.
Someone was asking questions.
He wasn’t hiding anymore. He had buried the God of War beneath these walls. Or tried to.
But the world... had a memory. And some wounds don’t stay buried.
He sensed her before she arrived.
Mira stepped beside him, her coat drawn tight, her eyes locked on the horizon.
“You feel it too,” she said.
He nodded. “They’re watching.”
“Let them,” she replied.
He turned to her. “If they come - ”
“We protect what we’ve built.”
Simple.
But it meant everything.
They didn’t need to strike first. They didn’t need to run.
They needed only to stay.
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.
...
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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
