The Last Moon Witch

  Copyright © 2020 by Feyra Silverlock

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 978-1-7349560-0-9 (paperback)

  Editors Odin Oxthorn & Valorie Clifton

  Sensitivity Reader Emma Candon

  Cover Artist Diego Silva @ artstation.com/dasilva

  Internal Art by Xyra Brittney

  Formatting By Erica Alexander @ Serendipity Formats

  For Tina, who offered us sanctuary in Umeå

  And for all those who have survived,

  know that you are not alone.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Also by Feyra Silverlock

  1

  Year 2155

  The hyperloop capsule was silent as it cut through the cloud of nuclear dust stretching over the countryside.

  The Miyagi prefecture had once produced much of Japan’s rice. Now, the tiered paddies only held stagnant brown sludge. Even sunflowers, nature’s favorite hyperaccumulators, were unable to take root in the radioactive earth.

  Jun Takamori glanced around the dimly lit capsule. He was the only passenger, save for an old monk snoring softly at the back of the car. Buddhist, by the look of his orange robes and ringed staff.

  In the quiet of the shielded train, Jun allowed his guard to drop. He slowly unzipped the mesh-sided duffle bag on the seat next to him.

  Inside was a metal frame that held a tiny baby tightly swaddled against the perpetual cold that plagued the world. The boy hadn’t even been named yet, his first and only child.

  “Almost there,” Jun promised. “Just sleep a little while longer.”

  Their destination was the ghost town of Osaki. Once famous for its natural beauty and hot springs, the town was nestled between the mountains and the Pacific Ocean. Little remained of the once popular travel destination. The war had decimated much of Japan’s eastern seaboard, leaving the area uninhabitable seventy-five years later, a ghastly reminder of the battle between corporations and witches that had plunged the world into a nuclear fall.

  To save themselves, the corporations pooled their resources and technology to form The Union, a multi-national government with the intent to eradicate all forms of magic.

  Jun took one last look at his son and slowly zipped the bag back up. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand, giving him a child with magic in his blood. But the Union’s tests were painfully thorough. Enforcer agents would be at his home by now, expecting him to hand over the child for disposal without hesitation.

  Guilt burned in Jun’s chest. It was selfish of him to want to save his own son when he’d never cared about the plight of the witches.

  It had been easy to grow numb to the endless worldwide broadcasts of the trials and executions of various cult members. Just white noise, security theater PSAs, something he’d seen since he was young.

  But then it struck closer to home. His neighbor, an elderly woman, had been dragged away on accusations of shamanism. The young couple three floors below him had been arrested for trafficking magical artifacts. Just last week, the Enforcers took a child from his complex under suspicion of possessing magical powers.

  Jun kept his head down and went about his life. It wasn’t his concern. He had his own problems to deal with.

  He sighed, resting his head back against his seat. Six months ago, he’d come home to an empty apartment. The only thing his wife had left behind was a thick envelope of official files containing divorce papers and a form relinquishing custody of their child.

  She hadn’t even told him that she was pregnant.

  The fetus had been transferred to an artificial womb to be picked up at his local hospital upon reaching full gestation.

  The knowledge that he had a child was the only thing that got Jun through the long weeks of stricter curfew and increased police stops. The process of baby-proofing his apartment, of naming his child, and buying toys and formula had entirely consumed his mind.

  His heart thudded in his chest as he went to pick up his child from the hospital. A thousand doubts assailed him. Would he be a good father? Was he ready?

  As he held his child for the first time, palms sweating, terrified of dropping the tiny bundle of life, Jun felt his fears vanish.

  A perfectly normal baby boy with a head of soft jet-black hair gurgled happily at him, and a warm wash of pride filled Jun from head to toe.

  In a hushed tone, the doctor mentioned discharge procedures and led them out of the nursery, through a side corridor, and into an office.

  This was it. He would be taking his son home within the hour. He just had to sign the official papers and name the child.

  “I have some bad news, Mr. Takamori,” the doctor told him as Jun settled into a chair opposite of the desk.

  “What do you mean? You said he was healthy.” Jun glanced at the baby in his arms, and the child cooed, waving its tiny hands at him. His organs were in the proper places and he had ten fingers and ten toes. There was nothing wrong his son. There couldn’t be.

  “Your son carries the M4G1 mutation. I’m sorry.”

  “So, what, he has asthma?” Jun looked up at the doctor in confusion.

  The doctor shook his head. “The gene for asthma is ORMDL3.”

  “So, what, then? What’s wrong with him?” The room was spinning. Jun could feel his heart galloping in his chest.

  “M4G1 is the genetic marker for magic,” the doctor explained as he reached into his desk for a stack of e-papers. “It’s unusual to see it without a family history. We ran the test three times to be sure.”

  Jun had sat there frozen as he struggled to make sense of the words that clattered around in his brain like laundry in a tornado.

  Magic. His son, his first and only child, had magic. This was a joke, right? A terrible, terrible joke.

  The doctor had forged ahead, beginning to go through the papers.

  Jun had to wonder how many times the doctor had given this news to other parents.

  The man explained in a calm, placating tone the release procedure and how the child would be disposed of. It would be humane, of course. The baby wouldn’t feel a thing.

  “The Union is very interested in this case, given the genetic anomaly. They would like to use the child for study after its disposal. This would be a great service to the world and help our research immensely. If you could just sign here.” He prompted Jun with a stylus.

  Jun stared down at his son, the babe none the wiser, innocent and oblivious as he sucked on his fingers. Only a simple series of signatures away from humane destruction and dissection in the name of science.

  A lump burrowed in Jun’s throat as his vision blurred. He thought of the crib that would never be used. The toys, cans of formula, and stacks of diapers that sat waiting at his apartment.

  He would never see his son’s first steps. Never see him off to school. Never teach him to drive a hover bike or worry about whom he was dating or what cram school he’d need to go to.

  “We can get to that later. Now I know that like many parents, you’ve prepared for the child. The Union will
compensate you.” The doctor swapped the stylus for a holographic chart with a sliding scale on it. “I can give you a rough estimate with this.”

  Jun stiffened. The heart-piercing sadness evaporated in the wake of a molten fury. Compensation? No amount of plastic credits could replace his son’s life.

  He shook, trying to focus his breathing as the doctor continued talking.

  “I know this is a lot to take in, but we have to be quick, Mr. Takamori. The child is dangerous, and the longer we keep it around, the greater the risk of your getting attached to it. Now, if you’ll just sign here.” He held out the stylus once more.

  It was the right thing to do. It was expected of him. Every citizen had a responsibility to protect the community, to expose or destroy magic when they could. But as Jun looked down at his son, he couldn’t go through with it.

  A latent paternal instinct took hold of him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. His body moved in pure reflex as the world around him blurred.

  When his vision cleared, the doctor was slumped back in his chair, throat scorched open by the blade of his plasma knife.

  There had been no sound, no commotion. But Jun knew the Union had eyes everywhere. How many in the hospital knew that his son was scheduled for disposal? There were too many unknown factors.

  He looked at the map to the fire escape that hung on the back of the office door. There was one nearby, and pulling a fire alarm would induce panic, a commotion to blend in. It wouldn’t do much against the facial recognition-enabled surveillance system, but it was his best shot.

  Minutes later, as he’d hurried out of the hospital among the swarms of people, his son in his arms, Jun reached for his burner comm and put in a call to his less savory associates.

  Ten years of loyal service to the largest yakuza gang in Japan had its benefits.

  Japan’s underground criminal network had expanded far beyond what the yakuza of the twentieth century had been. With the rise of crypto-currency and robotics, old staples like pornography and drugs had taken a backseat. With the war’s devastation, fresh produce and uncontaminated water had become more lucrative than tech. And recently, as the Union developed new ways of uncovering latent magic, human trafficking had once again become a profitable endeavor. People paid handsomely to escape the Union’s persecution. Jun never imagined that he would be among the ones fleeing.

  His savings and good standing with his boss provided a way out—a passport, a sedative for his son, and a ticket to nowhere with a set of cryptic instructions.

  Follow the path up the mountain. Go to the shrine. Leave the child with those you find there and disappear.

  Jun leaned back in the seat, the weight of his knife in his jacket comforting him as the hyperloop disappeared into another cloud of dust. The lead shielding shuddered amid the waste, holding steady as the journey neared its end.

  2

  Jun stepped out of the capsule onto the decaying platform of the station. He stretched as the hyperloop train zipped back off into the darkness. The perpetual twilight had melted away into an eerie night. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a glowstick, snapping it and shaking it to life. A soft, pulsating orange light illuminated the abandoned platform around him.

  Crumbling concrete and bricks supporting the platform demanded caution with every step. Shards of glass from the antique-style ticket booth glistened in the orange glow. Beyond where he stood, modern kiosks were overturned, their screens black and cracked. Benches that had been bolted down were ripped free from their anchors, and metal waste bins had been warped and twisted into grotesque parodies of their former selves.

  A thick layer of dust and ash muffled the tapping of Jun’s shoes as he made his way over to the flickering digital map.

  The personal Geiger counter attached to his wrist clicked slowly. The level of radiation was low, at least here. That didn’t offer Jun much comfort. Part of him worried that the poison would latch onto him, that everyone would know that he’d been outside the safe zone just by looking at him. Perhaps by coming here, he was resigning himself to death.

  But at least his son would live.

  Resolve strengthened, he shifted the duffle bag and tapped at the holo map a few times before it finally zoomed in on the helpful You are here! arrow.

  Jun frowned at the discolored fritzing holo. It took both of his hands to manipulate the malfunctioning tech, rotating the map until he was able to discern a path that led through the town and up into the mountains.

  His course set, Jun headed out of the station, making his way through the street while his Geiger counter provided an occasional chirp. Old buildings were burnt to ash, and the more modern structures of steel and concrete concealed the echoes of radiation within their walls.

  The ruined buildings gave way to stark fields of blister-dry earth that had once been tea farms. Gloom began to creep over the land, a glowing white vapor clinging to the ground. The sinister curtain rolled forward, enveloping the abandoned town in a foreboding shroud.

  The larger cities had shields to keep out the radiation, creating havens for the populace. But out here, the poison seemed to have grown sentient. It skulked at Jun’s heels, following him up the twisting path in the mountains. Each time he looked back, it edged closer, dogging his footsteps as he entered the corpse of what had once been a mighty forest.

  The path was covered with leaves, bizarrely untouched by decay years after they had fallen, creating treacherous, slippery obstacles as he ventured forward. Above his head, the trees loomed, barren and petrified, silent judges as Jun continued his journey up the increasingly steep route.

  Hours later, short of breath and on shaking legs, Jun caught sight of the red torii gates, oddly resilient against the radiation-plagued land. Perhaps the gods had blessed the place? Jun didn’t know and didn’t care as he breathed a sigh of relief, his exhalation echoing in the dead silence.

  He offered a grateful bow to the arches before stepping beneath them, heading toward the main building.

  But as he drew nearer, he saw the shrine was abandoned, covered in the same layer of ash and dust that veiled the town. The steps were caved in, the basin of purifying water overturned. The tower gate had lost its roof, and its pagoda had collapsed, split down the middle. The Niō statues that guarded the shrine had their arms and heads broken off, the rest of their bodies covered in a slimy red moss.

  Leaves crunched behind him, and Jun whirled, dropping his glowstick to draw his knife. His other hand clutched the duffle bag close.

  A woman appeared from the petrified trees, her mousy hair pulled back into a loose braid.

  As she stepped toward him, a necklace of crystals clinked. She reached out and spoke in a language he didn’t know.

  Jun stared at her, scrutinizing her bare feet, her long sleeved underdress, and the black apron she wore. A satchel and sickle hung at her waist. Across her chest, a collection of bones and silver trinkets were strung between two bronze brooches. She looked like the sort of strange re-constructionist, commune hippie one might see in documentaries.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his knife at the ready. The woman stared at him in confusion. “Do you speak Japanese?”

  She replied in the same language she’d used before, her brow furrowing as she spoke.

  “English then?” Not his native language, but he was wasting time by simply staring at her.

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Yes. English I can do?” Her words had a questioning inflection, not something he was used to hearing from English speakers.

  “Good. Now, who are you?”

  “Notia. You’re Jun, right?” She took a step closer, glancing around nervously.

  “I am.” He offered her a polite bow, but she took no notice, staring down the path behind him. Jun glanced over his shoulder, squinting at the shadows.

  “Give me the child. Quickly,” Notia whispered, her body tense, eyes fixated on the empty path.

  “I want to know the sort of perso
n I’m giving him to. I wasn’t told you would be a foreigner.” She didn’t sound like an American. That was the last place he wanted his son to end up. Their corporations had been the ones who had so enthusiastically pushed for the war. And like a set of dominoes, the rest of the world’s corporations had followed.

  Notia’s eyes left the path as she looked back at him, a glimmer of assurance in her expression. “My coven has a safehold. We’re fifty strong. We have persons from all creeds. Your son will not be alone.”

  “Coven? Wait, you’re a witch?” His contact hadn’t told him who he’d be giving his son to. He never expected a real witch.

  “I’m the head priestess of the Moon Witches. Where did you think your child would go? How else would he learn to use his gifts?” Notia tilted her head. “Magical abilities must be nurtured, not oppressed.”

  Jun shook his head. The witch part he could begrudgingly accept. But they couldn’t have at least found a Japanese witch?

  Notia seemed to perceive his frustration and closed the space between them. The wind howled through the shrine grounds, causing the trees to creak with foreboding.

  “I know this is not ideal. I understand that you have reservations.” She rested a cold hand on his arm. “But we have precious little time to waste. If you want to save your son’s life, he must leave with me tonight.”

  Jun pulled away from her touch. “Will I be able to see him?”

  Notia shook her head. “That isn’t how this works. I’m sorry.”

  “Where will you take him?” Jun tried to quell his racing thoughts. His son was stirring in the duffle bag, the sedative starting to wear off.

  “The less you know, the safer you’ll both be. He cannot stay here. The Union has too much power in Japan, especially given that one of your corporations sits on the head council.” Notia looked back down the path, her eyes tracking something unseen. “We’re running out of time.”