Rebel moon part one a ch.., p.1
Rebel Moon Part One--A Child of Fire, page 1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Leave us a Review
Copyright
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Rebel Moon Part One – A Child of Fire: The Official Novelization
Print edition ISBN: 9781803367316
E-book edition ISBN: 9781803367323
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
www.titanbooks.com
First edition: December 2023
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.
REBEL MOONTM / © Netflix 2023. Used with permission.
V. Castro asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
1
Rebellion is not for the impulsive or fool-hardy. It is for the truth seekers, the restless, the real third-eye seers who believe the howls of the soul create miracles. Rebels manifest change. Now tell me, are you a rebel?
— King Heron from Letters to My Children
THE UNIVERSE IS AN EVER-UNFURLING TONGUE OF A GIANT, SALIVATING BEAST seeking prey. Its black and smoky fur cloaks mysteries incomprehensible to the human mind or eye, but not to The King’s Gaze. Nothing escaped its coveting, cold, watchful glare. It moved quietly in low orbit amongst the dozen moons surrounding its destination.
Admiral Atticus Noble walked along the corridors of the grand citadel with priests and two of his Krypteian guards. He had an unannounced appointment with King Heron. Noble smirked at the title; “kings” on the outer worlds were mere administrators. King Heron stood in front of him with three of his advisors and guards.
“What a beautiful and prosperous city,” Noble said as he gave King Heron a smile. Heron didn’t match this gesture. He knew exactly why the admiral had landed in his dropship in the center of the main square. The Realm always made their presence known.
“Thank you. I know you didn’t come all this way to give me compliments.”
“No. I did not, sadly. It is actually a matter of grave importance. I have the responsibility of finding Devra and Darrian Bloodaxe from Shasu. It pained me to know they had been given sanctuary here. Now, I kindly ask you: hand them over. When you do so, I will leave as if I never set foot here in the first place.”
King Heron held his ground. “I cannot. They are my guests. Your business with them is not mine.”
Noble walked closer and his entourage of priests and Krypteian Guard followed. Heron didn’t allow his fear to show. He had given his word to the Bloodaxes. That was final. Noble looked to the vaulted ceiling of the citadel and the stained glass filtering the sunlight. He clapped his leather-gloved hands together. He chuckled to himself with a thought only he could see and hear. “I will ask you one more time. Hand over the Bloodaxe rebels.”
Heron didn’t have to think about his answer. “Again, I respectfully decline.”
Noble looked Heron in his eyes. In his cold, dark stare that showed he possessed no soul, the real Noble emerged. “Very well. That is your choice.”
“It is.”
Noble nodded. “Until we meet again.” He turned on his heels and walked out of the citadel back to his dropship.
King Heron’s general leaned into his ear. “What are your wishes with this turn of events?”
“Tell the Bloodaxes to prepare themselves. They must be ready to flee.”
The general gave him a short nod and left. Heron stood alone and wondered if he would ever meet Noble again. He hoped not.
* * *
The hangar on one of the sides of The King’s Gaze opened for a single dropship to emerge and land on the planet below. Atticus Noble stood in silence as he watched the scenes from the city of Toa on a monitor. The flames were the same bright color as the sand. It would burn so ferociously that no amount of its vast jade waters could quell the fires. Cleansing heat. Everything bends to flame. All that history, hundreds of thousands of years of memory, becoming ash in a matter of hours. No one would ever see the magnificence of the stone city as it was originally created. Noble felt nothing for the loss or those who lay dead. Each corpse looked exactly like the next.
There is hurt, then there is pain and agony, followed by utter despair. Finally, we are met with waking death. That is where peace is found, because nothing exists in the sphere of annihilation. There is no fight left. Noble knew this because he could not be more dead inside, and that gave him a sense of peace and direction.
He glanced back to the six priests mumbling prayers under their breath, behind their masks with red streaks below the eyes and old kingdom calligraphy across the mouth. Their decadent thick red robes and wide-brimmed hats embroidered in gold and white always emitted the scent of incense and smoke, as if the folds captured the aroma to remind everyone that the old religion demanded piety at all times. Skulls topped with gold spikes sat on each shoulder. Their presence was a representation of the sacred and the profane in the universe. He preferred his uniform and weapons to robes. The five-thousand-strong army awaiting his arrival would respond to metal before prayer. They saw more of death than God. Death had to be their sovereign.
Noble landed in the main plaza, reduced to rubble as he had instructed. When the dropship doors opened, the scent of burning wood, paper, and flesh hit his nostrils. It was a familiar scent. He led the way down the metal ramp with the priests trailing behind him like a blood-sodden cape. Before him stood his closest advisor, Cassius, who saluted him upon his approach but ignored the priests behind him. Also in Noble’s entourage were two Krypteian guards, Felix and Balbus.
Noble’s eyes scanned the oblivion that lay before him. Numerous bonfires leapt into the sky with books being cast inside as fuel. Their useless words finding a fitting end. Battered and bruised citizens kneeled in subservience, their magnificent sculptures and buildings that once rose toward the heavens now demolished to a state of humble ruin. Toa priestesses had their clothes torn off their bodies. They shivered in horrific anticipation as they watched their fellow priestesses being branded with a glowing red iron.
Noble continued toward Cassius until they stood face to face. “I see it is all going to plan here. Real obedience starts in the ashes. Well done. Where is the administrator of this world? Cassius, I would like a word with him.” said Noble with his unshakable confidence. His sharp and hollow features resembled a mere mask of skin over bone and animated evil. His presence demanded to be acknowledged, like a predator with its lethal attributes on show. Fear is all you can feel when you see them up close. But running is futile because the predator’s nature is to hunt.
Cassius remained stoic, one of the reasons Noble respected him above others. Nothing seemed to shock him. Cassius was a man who would never fall prey to some existential crisis. He knew his static place in the Imperium and had made peace with that. Following orders to the letter came easy for him. “He’s near the citadel, sir. He still fights.”
Noble despised misplaced heroics. It was a waste of time and energy. People should always know when to give up. “Hmm. Where is this citadel?”
Cassius pointed across the vast courtyard above the soldier’s heads toward a crumbling tower burning brightly with dark smoke billowing high into the atmosphere. “Just there. As I said, not much longer before it all collapses.”
Noble’s eyes narrowed at the sight. “Good. And have we captured the siblings?”
Cassius’s jaw clenched yet remained steadfast. “Sir, the administrator has orchestrated their escape. They have created this web of helpers in the universe to keep them fighting and out of our grasp.”
Despite this not being what he wanted to hear, Noble appreciated Cassius wasn’t the sniveling type. He always gave news to him straight and spoke plainly. He didn’t hide from the stark truth.
“Another reason why we show no mercy here. How many got away?”
“We destroyed most of their ships and men. Devra Bloodaxe and her brother, in the chaos, were able to evade us with a handful of ships.”
“Everyone thinks they can escape until fate finds them cowe
* * *
King Heron kept journals of the many trials and tribulations of his succession and his reign. He also wrote letters to his children for when they were older and needed advice about life. They would inherit this kingdom, but he also wanted them to inherit some of his wisdom. They would have to navigate through the politics of the Realm, which was not easy since the death of the king. In fact, he despised the Motherworld and what it stood for: greed, bloodshed, and coercion. That is why he extended help to the Bloodaxe cause.
He knew about Shasu, how the Motherworld made domestic issues worse when they meddled with violence. The alliance was almost untenable once Balisarius had taken over as Regent. Balisarius relished in his power, he had spread his cancer throughout the Realm, killing so many worlds and innumerable people with the disease of war. King Heron would do whatever he could to overthrow that tyrant.
Alone in his personal office in the citadel, Heron tucked away his letters and journals in a box made to withstand time and the elements. It fit in a small recess below his desk covered with an animal skin. Not even an hour after the Bloodaxes left, he felt inspired to write. Shouts and the sounds of vehicles made him look to the door as heavy footfalls ran past. As he walked out of his office, a shadow with a familiar shape passed the stained glass in the citadel, handcrafted a century before. Guards secured the citadel and ran to their posts. Those who worked there fled with terror in their eyes.
No one noticed him as he ran by. He was dressed in plain clothing that day, and all were more concerned with their own safety. He rushed to the main entrance, pushing past bodies and shouts. His eyes glazed over with darkness of the deepest abyss in the waters of the Biwa Sea when he saw three warships arriving in their airspace. But he had taken a side. He had to live with that.
With his own eyes, he saw the first blazing fireballs bombard the city before him. Alarms blared to a deafening volume as the ground shook. More guards poured into the citadel. One grabbed his arm, with the sigil of First Elite Lieutenant. “I have been looking for you. You must flee! I have sent a patrol to your residence. There was little warning of their approach, but we received a dispatch from the Bloodaxes. They were attacked deeper into space but got away.”
“I need to get to my family.”
“Yes, sir. I will have transport sent there immediately. If anything should happen, I will also have another sent here to the citadel.”
“Thank you.” Heron turned from the guard and began to run to his family. The residence was not far, because he wanted his children to see the day-to-day running of a kingdom, but it was far enough for them to be in grave danger if the Imperium soldiers got to them before he did.
When he arrived, Maia stood with their three children in the grand foyer decorated with fresh flowers and large oil paintings of their ancestors. Now they were knocked down as the residence shook under the shelling. Yet, she still looked regal. From behind her outer robe, he could see the tip of her large, sheathed blade. He loved her bravery. If he died, their kingdom would be in good hands with her leadership.
Clara and Calliope stood either side of their mother, with little Clara holding the family pet, Bergen, in a small cage. The two girls shared their mother’s fear. His teenage son, Aris, huddled next to his mother and sisters with a rifle in hand. He did his best to stay calm, but Heron knew his son was panicking inside. That was okay. With the direction the Motherworld was headed, he knew his children would experience war sooner or later. The Realm was unceasingly bloodthirsty, their senseless lust for violence never satiated. The destruction around him proved he was right to help the Bloodaxes.
“Heron, what is going on?” asked Maia.
“No time to explain now. Transport should be waiting outside. We go right now. Don’t take anything but what you have on you.” The walls of their home continued to crumble, the bombardment escalating. Shouts could be heard coming from the hallway that joined the foyer and the main sitting room. Heron snatched the rifle from his son, raised it above their heads, and pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed into the air, causing the little girls to scream.
He gave the rifle back to Aris then reached for Clara’s hand to lead them out of the royal residence. The little girl took her father’s hand. They ran through the front entrance into the unfolding devastation outside. Heron handed Clara to her sister and picked up a rifle that had been discarded on the ground. Through the smoke of burning buildings, they could see one of their own dropships approaching to land on the manicured lawn, surrounded by large palm trees to give the residence another shield besides the ornate high steel gates topped with spikes that looked like the open beak of a bird.
Soldiers and citizens ran outside the gates to escape the carnage. As the family looked to the sky, the dropship burst into flames. Maia gasped, “No.”
A larger Imperium ship’s shadow could be seen moving across the lawn of the residence. Heron and his family looked back. They were going to destroy their home. Cannon fire crashed not far from their feet. They all ducked from the spewed dirt and blood. Flesh flew across them. “To the citadel!” he shouted as he scooped Clara into his arms and began to run. The family dashed through the small side gate that was usually manned by elite soldiers outside. Heron looked into the retina lock. The steel gate opened.
Some of their soldiers lay dead, the others probably drawn out to the fight. When they passed the pedestrianized walkway between the residence and the path to the citadel, a large explosion made them duck and look behind them. The royal residence no longer existed. King Heron grabbed his son’s arm and brought him close. “Beneath the floorboards of my office in the citadel are letters for you and your sisters. Your mother and Calliope know. If anything should happen—”
Another explosion stopped Heron from finishing his thought. He turned to run again toward an already bombarded citadel. It was their only remaining hope for escape. It was clear the Realm held no room for discussion or dissension. They wanted a homogeneous kingdom of ethnic purity and singular thought.
* * *
King Heron and his family crouched behind the fallen statue of a god who must not exist, because this place was devoid of any benevolence. His daughters, Clara and Calliope, tried their best to not cough from the choking smoke stinging their throats. Sweat rolled down his face and soaked his black tunic. He wiped his palms against his trousers to take aim at the soldiers who cornered them at the citadel.
His son still held a rifle. They all had to fight to make it out alive. His wife, Maia, and two girls moved through the giant shards of stone as Heron took aim. He landed a clean shot straight into the forehead of one of the soldiers. Crimson droplets sprayed into the air with the glowing embers carried on the wind from the razed city outside. He could hear Clara scream at the sight while Calliope impatiently shushed her.
But this is where Heron excelled, the part of him his daughters didn’t know. Don’t come for an expert marksman without expecting there is a chance you might land directly in their crosshairs. Soldier after soldier fell to the ground in rapid succession. His eyes scanned ten men through the smoke and gunfire. Despite his hits, more soldiers closed in with the movement of a vicious tide. He whipped his head toward his son. “We need to drop back.”
His son didn’t move. “But Father…”
Maia grabbed her son’s forearm with a firm hold and stern, authoritative expression. She also glanced at her daughters. “You heard your father. We need to move. Girls, let’s go now. To the door.”
Heron nodded and his son obeyed. They made their way to the stairs. Bergen squawked in its cage as they moved fast. Calliope tried to make Clara part with it when the fighting began, but it was the only way Clara, at eight years old, would leave their home as their mansion took the first of the series of bombardments. It was a gift from her father. He had one when he was her age, his pet was Bergen’s mother. The hairless blue creature was agitated, showing its tiny razor teeth and banged against its gilded cage. It’s three-fingered grip pulled at the small opening, which was locked. “Shhhh, Bergen,” she told the creature.
