At a pub in the southern suburbs of Boneclad, a secret meeting of a dozen rebels occurred in the basement. It was led by a white-bearded, middle-aged man named Arthur. Arthur rounded his fellow rebels around a wooden table where he had scattered documents and papers left and right.

"Silence." He ordered them. The whispering died as his sharp gaze traveled the dusty room.

"I invited you here because I've had enough. All of us." He began his speech.

"Our fathers and mothers came to this city for a contract that bonded them to a lifetime of modern-day slavery which was was passed on to us, all just to possess the luxurious passport of Irongate." He continued, and his words were to the liking of the fellow rebels who were all below the poverty line. Those people were the children of the contracted workers who came to this city when it was being built for the hope of gaining a better life, only to be met by indescribable injustice.

"We've stayed silent for too long as we watched this city become God's hell on Earth. We watched the king's belly widen while our children died of hunger that no one spoke of." The rebels' agreement was evident as they nodded and eyed each other.

"But a line has been crossed, and our children were sacrificed right in front of our eyes. The king abandoned his soldiers! Sent them to the lion's cage!" His voice became louder and stronger, his eyes were red and his fury was unraveling to the men and women who felt his anger.

"I've spent a long year gathering information. Silently, and discreetly before this incident occurred. I've come to possess knowledge that would wreak havoc upon this wretched man's throne. We need no man-made God!" His excitement was evident.

There was no silence following that sentence. The whispers came from each corner as Arthur revealed his biggest revelation.

"Look!" He ordered them and showed them a hand drawn picture of a hooded creature.

"They've hidden this knowledge from us, but we now know! Henry's words were true, there are Mooncallers among us! And it's living with us, hidden. All we have is this scribble, this creature is likely disguised as a female."

"And what do we gain from chasing it? We're only wasting time, we need to break through the gates and bring our children back!" Spoke an angry rebel who felt that Arthur's actions deviated from his notions. His comment was followed by nods that also agreed with him.

"Well. I've expected this reaction." Arthur's tone went down. "I would like you to see through my eyes." He continued. "We need this monster in our grip." He revealed his true plot. Everyone eyed each other in confusion, unaware of how it would be possible to tame a mooncaller by their side.

"Like a pet." He walked around the table. "It will be our key to the gate. Our weapon. We won't have to fear anyone, or anything, if that beast is with us in shackles." He flashed the picture to all the curious eyes. It intrigued all of them, but the doubt was still there.

The meeting was almost over as the true motives were revealed. Some walked out, others stayed. Arthur wouldn't let go of the picture, the picture that showed a peak of a familiar face. Underneath the picture was the signature of the devil. The white sect.

The picture belonged to no one other than the unfortunate Abigail, and this was a witch hunt orchestrated by the vengeful fanatics and in the process, they cooked a rebellion that would only weaken the city from the inside. That picture didn't entirely reveal Abigail's face, but the rebels now had a clue.

II. The trail.

Andrew healed physically, but mentally he was scarred for life. It wasn't about the arm he had lost, but the turn in events he witnessed. His guilt towards Henry was unimaginable, his brother was right all along. He wondered what else was he lied to about, his faith in the system was shattered yet he had to maintain his status.

It was almost ten o'clock at night. Andrew had finished his paperwork and decided to blow off some steam in the training center. At that time of the day, only serious practice was carried. Those who were motivated enough to come at a late hour were hard to be challenged, and due to Andrew's injury, he decided to drop teasing other soldiers.

At the shooting targets area, Andrew strolled around the guns and pistols aimlessly. He wondered if the loud gunshots would drown his thoughts and so, he picked up a gun and placed himself in the right position. With his healthy arm, he aimed. His mind wasn't clear and so, he didn't give it much thought before he pulled the trigger, consequently missing the target and alerting his fellow soldier who was in the next booth.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"It must be one of those days, Andrew." Spoke a male voice from the next booth. One that made Andrew roll his eyes as soon as he had recognized it. He chose not to answer.

"I'm so sorry about your injury." The soldier faked sympathy which grew a fire inside Andrew. "Must have been awful to witness a Mooncaller this close." The soldier's voice came closer. It was true, this soldier was one of the palest of the strategic division. They never saw the light of the battle as they resided on top of the communication towers and observation tanks.

"Must be hard on you.. To come out of it alive."

Those words were not of a friend nor a comrade. It was of a longtime rival, Quinn. He wasn't a mere soldier, he was a commander in the observation division. They fought over their positions ever since they landed their feet into the legions, and it was never clear who really won to the public, but inside Andrew's heart he knew he lost long ago.

"Not that hard." Andrew finally spoke as he refused to turn around and face Quinn who was standing right behind his booth. "I am a lucky man" Andrew stated.

"I have heard of survivors' guilt.."

"I don't know about such a thing."

"You could've been one of those unfortunate enough to be taken alive, but somehow.. Luck snatched you out and put you in the hospital."

"What can I say? God has favorites."

"Hmm. Not just God."

"Perhaps."

"You're not good at deflecting allegations, aren't you?"

"Your allegations are weak metaphors of your ill thoughts, I don't think they're quite valuable."

Quinn began to show anger in his calm tone, and Andrew fired two more shots which he missed. He was ashamed of missing his target when Quinn was waiting for any chance to humiliate him.

"Nothing goes behind the king's back. Remember that."

"You're too confident in your scenario, quit sniffing like a dog, Quinn."

Andrew's attempt to silence Quinn was fairly successful. It seemed that the circumstances of the incident he endured weren't satisfying to some. But Andrew's alibi was strong. Losing that much blood made Ivanka responsible for whatever scheme they should sell as he couldn't gather any coherent memory aside from Luther's arrival and Abigail's restraint.

"This won't go by so easily, Andrew. You're giving me everything on a silver plate." Quinn left the booth as he revealed that he was investigating the incident which Andrew began to feel distressed about. He never doubted Quinn's intelligence, and a man like that was bound to find out what truly happened. Andrew's resting time had ended as he realized that the worst was yet to come, and as Quinn exited the training center with his comrades, Andrew decided to visit Ivanka and discuss what was about to come.

Andrew couldn't carry the burden alone.

III. Cards.

That night was turbulent. Problems emerged from every corner and little did anyone know what was being cooked behind the colossal wall separating the beasts from humans.

Luther had trained himself to tell the right words, and to narrate the right scenario as he exited the city through the secret tunnel that he had access to. That tunnel was hardly accessible by any Mooncaller, it was specially designed for the thinkers. The white sect must have delivered the news to the elders. The elders whom Luther bowed to for over twenty years, but the truth of what happened inside that church was distorted and his presence was erased. He knew what the white sect had delivered.

He was no ordinary thinker.

Luther possessed unimaginable strategic thinking, one that he accumulated after decades of closely monitoring the elders. He was a favorite, a young beautiful man tainted by the silver steel. In his heart, his motives were never altered. He knew what must be done since day one, and being one of the very few who possessed self-consciousness, he was aware of his roots and wouldn't betray them.

The Mooncallers' mistake was not erasing the core of humanity from their most trustworthy puppets.

*

Luther was granted entrance by the cyber operator. Slowly, a door was opened revealing to him a long stairway to the entrance hall where he shall meet his elders. He walked slowly anticipating anything but showing confidence as to lure their trust.

The entrance hall was dull. It was devoid of art, but embellished by a thousand hanging cables. It smelt of grease and oil, quite humid and hot. There were strange writing and signs in languages humans never heard of. And the clicking of the metallic heels of the monsters was vibrating in every corner. There was a combustion of energy among the non-human workers who were being operated to transport goods and other items. The longer Luther walked the heavier he felt as he was never accustomed to this strong heat.

The lack of a human trace was intentional to seclude the mindless from any attempt to remember their past. No matter how skilled the elders were, there was one tie they were never able to break.

As Luther stood alongside a hundred motionless cyber corpses, all facing the stairway to the great castle of the elders where he shall meet his punishment or reward, he understood what must be done.

Into the lion den, he went.