40k Emperor Novels & Stories

It was pure. “They dared to piss on our gates, then went home by laying our dogs on pure trash,” the Emperor whispered, his voice creeping slowly through the pores of every elder present. Not a cry of fury, but rather a promise of absolute death. "Alexander Sterling... you may be immune to banking sabotage, but let's see if your European fangs are immune to pure dragon blades." The Emperor stood up. His golden silk robe fluttered. For a hundred years, he never left his throne in Asia. But tonight, pure imperial prestige had been slapped right in his face!

"You're too late! The compression is locked! The abyssal core is at critical mass!" "Then turn it off, Vane," I projected my voice back, my tone completely flat, entirely devoid of the panic he wanted to see. I didn't stop walking toward the massive engine. "The war is over. Your Emperor is dead. If you pull that lever, all you are going to do is blow up the canyon." "I am the empire!" Vane roared, his fanaticism overriding any sense of self-preservation. "And the Iron Crown does not surrender to a man who holds hands with beasts!"

“Congratulations. You’ve been promoted to Chaos Ambassador. Your first task: stop breaking things before intel shows up.” He pouts. “Fine. But if anyone sneezes wrong, I’m still biting them.” I roll my eyes and a scoff comes from the back of the room. Kieran shifts in his corner, silent, brooding, and somehow more intimidating just by existing. Head of my Shadows. “You make my job harder,” he grunts. Lou grins. “Aw poor baby has to work instead of reading dark romance books at midnight?” Kieran freezes, jaw tightening, his eyes glow gold. “I do not—”

That figure seemed somehow familiar. "Dorian?" I blurted out without thinking. "Seraphina." Dorian did not seem surprised to see me. Perhaps he had already known that the Emperor and the Empress would be there that day. He was only a year older than Nathaniel, but his face was weathered beyond his years, making it impossible to tell his actual age. He had also become even thinner, with sunken cheeks and protruding eyes, wearing thin clothing in the cold winter. When he walked, his legs moved slowly, as if he had some difficulty.

The Emperor’s rooms, usually a place where I could think straight, plan, and feel my strength back, now felt like a prison. The shiny wooden floors of my study seemed to laugh at me with every step I took. I walked back and forth, the sound of my boots like a drum for my growing anger. My advisors had given me the royal order, something needed, a way to show Kaldor its Emperor was back, strong and in charge. It was meant to heal the kingdom, to bring everyone together. But the most important part of that plan, the woman meant to be my Empress, the symbol of hope I had so boldly announced, was gone. Vanished like smoke. How could she had just vanished. What could have happened?

Two hours of us walking at the front, our shifting form a beacon that drew every eye. Two hours of counting down to transformation or annihilation. The palace appeared on the horizon, black with corruption, bleeding darkness into the sky. And standing at its gates, exactly as we had known he would be— The Void Emperor, ready to become unkillable. Ready to end everything. "This is it," we said to the army at our back. "This is everything."

He brushed Albert’s hand off and headed toward the aircraft. Brandon’s icy gaze lingered on Alaric. The Emperor’s aura was calm—eerily calm. The oppressive darkness that usually followed his manic episodes had vanished. Perhaps he had finally vented enough to pacify his violent urges, Brandon thought—hopefully for longer this time. He looked across the battlefield, taking in the countless corpses. A deep crease formed between his brows. The swarm was growing restless. Their increased activity meant the threat was escalating again. His gaze returned to Alaric—the last surviving heir of the Fenrir clan, Emperor of the Royal Fenrir Empire.

Inside, a florist stared at a future she had never chosen. And somewhere between legacy and strategy, a contract the empire could not break had taken its first breath.

"Tonight, we celebrate not only a scientific breakthrough, but the unity of our species!" Just then, I noticed a man standing in the corner. He was tall, dressed in a black suit, and wasn't talking to anyone. He just stood quietly in the shadows, observing. Ethan. The Enforcer for the Werewolf Council. The only Alpha who supposedly didn't need a potion to control his rage. His nose twitched slightly, as if he was sniffing the air. Then, he looked up, his gaze locked onto my hiding spot in the vents. My heart hammered against my ribs. He knew.

It was cold and calculating. And then he moved. He was a blur, faster than any man should, or could be. One moment, he stood several paces away and the next, his hand was wrapped around Cade's throat. He lifted his bulky form from the ground as though he weighed nothing. Cade gasped as he struggled for breath. The herb he clutched tightly slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the ground as he grasped onto the emperor's fingers. “You forget who I am,” the emperor growled, eyes glowing with dark shadows. “I am the great emperor of the seven kingdoms who united them with my sweat and blood. I am the sovereign ruler and now I have moved beyond the realm of mere mortals. I am the ultimate one.”