Rebellion Novels & Stories

In the past, whenever Megan wanted something of mine and I refused, they berated me for not knowing how to care for my sister, for not setting a good example as the elder one, and for being selfish and only thinking of myself. Now that I was voluntarily giving everything up, all of them suspected I was plotting something. Wasn't this exactly what they had wanted? "Evie, yesterday, Rick told us he was reborn. He claimed that you had faked your illness, stolen the Moonviolet serum, driven Meg out of the house, and caused her to die in a car crash. But looking at things now, it seems he was just talking nonsense. "You're clearly much more sensible than before. You even learned to give in to you

I was betting everything on Solas’s greed outweighing his cruelty. But as I looked at the Onyx crest on the corporal’s tattered uniform, I knew I had no other choice. The Rebellion had officially begun.

“Regroup. Find new allies before they crush us beneath their iron fists.” Their rebellion had started as a whisper in dark alleys and back rooms, a secret flame that had grown into a roaring fire. Guilds, outcasts, and common folk—all yearning for change—now looked to Isabella as their beacon. But every alliance carried risk; every step outside the shadows was a gamble with death.

“But power won’t be enough. We need control.” The rebels shifted, uneasy. “You want to march on the palace?” “No,” she said. “I want to take it from within.” That was the beauty of rebellion—it didn’t always roar. Sometimes, it wore silk and smiled. Sometimes, it whispered in court chambers and kissed betrayal into ears of kings. Above ground, the capital continued unaware. The council argued about succession. Nobles flattered themselves with power they hadn’t earned. And in the distance—beyond the hills and broken forests—Kael and Dain rode hard toward the eastern border.

The machine was already turning. The storm, once contained in whispers and warnings, had broken free. And it wasn’t mine alone anymore. The rebellion was in the blood of farmers and former slaves, in the bruised knuckles of kitchen girls who trained with daggers at midnight, in the eyes of boys who had watched their mothers executed for defiance.

she whispered, recalling the prophecy Maelis had uttered. Kaelen’s sword hissed free. “The rebellion is no scattered fire. It’s an army.” The battle that night was chaos wrapped in firelight. Arrows rained from the ridge, rebels surged like a tide, and their banner of the black falcon snapped against the smoke-filled sky. Darian fought like a man possessed, shouting for the guards to form ranks. Serenya, torn between hiding and leading, finally cast off her cloak. If hope could not be whispered, it had to be shouted.

The price was being paid. "I don't need to know who I am," Aiden said, raising his hand toward the core. "I just need to know who I’m with." Ignis stepped up beside him, placing his hand over Aiden’s. "We’re here, Aiden. Do it." Aiden smiled. It was the most human thing he had done in weeks. "Then let's go out with a bang." The core shattered. The light of the capital flickered, spasmed, and died. In the sudden, suffocating darkness, the sounds of the rebellion began—not as a whisper, but as a scream of a thousand people waking up to a world they finally owned.