PROLOGUE - The Spark

Novograd, Mars.


The Spark, that’s what grandfather used to call it.

A behemoth of brimstone and fire laying waste to nations. Half of a continent left in cinders.

The cataclysmic event would bring mankind to its knees. To the very precipice of collapse. The harsh years under the ash sky, the eternal winters, and the hope that would not be extinguished.

Denariun squinted, peering out across the city, wondering if he might spot Earth on such a beautiful summer night. A few times he had been lucky enough to locate the tiny blue dot. Usually, however, he only saw a sea of stars. And the crater was too small to make out with the naked eye.

As a young boy, Denariun had heard the ancient tales of the event. At fourteen he had stumbled upon the famous footage taken from the space stations. It was a life-changing experience. Even now, as a man well in his thirties, the still visible bruise on the mother planet put the fear of God in him.

The Great Crater: It served as an ever reminder of the real threats out there. That humanity could... should band together. Under the same banner, united on common ground.

He stood tall, peering out from the Revolutionary balcony as he had done many times before. Privately, when he was heavy with burden—The responsibilities of an emerging leader, entrusted to make vital decisions under the faint light of the moons. Publicly, it had been at his father’s side, under the midday sun, as they waved regally to the crowd in front of the palace. Every year, the Confederacy would throw celebrations and parades in honor of their hard won independence. They were always majestic, for they were necessary for the facade of the true Martian government.

The road had been long and rocky for them all. He knew that one day the job would fall onto him to secure the future for his nation. His father was a pragmatic person, and the mistakes of the old fumbling royalists in the east had taught them valuable lessons: The line of succession must be that of strong character, and not of heritage.

It was under these sets of rules that Denariun, against all odds, had risen to the top. Within this framework he had earned the title of Heir Apparent to the Confederacy. A position he had spent his whole adult life pursuing.

He took a deep breath and rested against the white marble railing. The city lights flickered so lovely in every color.

Great-grandfather had struggled so they may be free. As had his father worked arduously to see that their society could rise tall towards the skies. Soon, it would be up to him to feed his people, to have way with guns and violence, the expensive flagships, the military scheming. To usher in a new age of prosperity through diplomacy.

The nations of Sol had grown to become a network of checks and balances. It was now impossible to go to war with any faction without invoking the wrath of a larger alliance. With that knowledge, Denariun believed he could navigate Mars into a better position without the use of brute force. To a glorious tomorrow, to a modern generation of bright minds and strong families.

"Your guests are waiting for you, my dear,"

Alexandria slipped in from the balcony doors, graceful as ever in her silver gown. The wrinkles in her smile had appeared just over a year ago. Denariun loved her all the more for it.

"Oh, I was getting some fresh air." He answered with a guilty look on his face.

"I’m sure you can always figure out how to save the world tomorrow." Alexandria wrapped herself in his arms and pressed her face against his chest. "I think you should come back inside, open another bottle of champagne, and help entertain our guests."

The worries of the political race faded as he held her delicate, slender body in his embrace. She smelled of vanilla, her hair curly and black. Denariun pressed his nose in to soak up her scent.

*CchhzzChzzz*

The sharp sound made them instinctively turn towards it, out over the courtyard. A bright flash of white light blinded their eyes. Denariun, in response, threw his arms around his wife in an attempt to shield her from the explosion that violently engulfed them both.

The last thing going through his mind was that of The Spark.






Next Chapter: CHAPTER 1 - Grey’s Gentlemen’s Club