Dark Star Emperor Novels & Stories

Elara watched the city breathe from the penthouse window. Night lights blinked like promises that never kept. The room smelled of lemon and old perfume. Glass and steel held everything together up here. It fit Adrian—clean, sharp, cold. He came in without knocking. He moved like a man used to being obeyed. He took off his coat and did not look at her. He poured himself a drink with hands that did not tremble. “Elara.” His voice had no heat. “We sign tonight.”

With a flick of his sleeve, he turned and walked away. Later, I brought some high-quality medicinal ointment and showed the guards the Emperor's token, signaling them to open the door. The first thing I saw was two people holding each other tightly. Dorian and Celeste were nothing like their former glamorous selves. They were disheveled and dirty, with no trace left of the Crown Prince's former glory. Celeste's facial wounds had not received any treatment; they had scabbed over with terrible swelling, showing signs of infection and rot.

Santoro looked between us with the quiet satisfaction of a man watching an experiment yield exactly the results he expected. “I hear she’s precious to you,” he said. I kept my eyes on him. Not her. Him. “What do you want Santoro.” “You know what I want.” “Say it.” He tilted his head. “Your empire. Your territory. Your networks in Milan, Rome, and the north.” He said it simply, like he was listing items on a shopping list. “Sign it over. All of it. And walk away.” “And if I don’t.” He glanced at Nina. Just briefly. Just enough.

May his light affect me. "Get in here, squirt." I pushed his head in gently and he stepped in with the tray of food. Spaghetti. "I brought mom's cheer up spaghetti and your favorite drinks. I also brought a scary movie." Cheeky turd, he's not allowed to watch those. "Eric!" Ember scolded. "Did you bring a good one?" She smirked playfully. Are we sure that Ember doesn't still have some dark magic in her? "It's a slasher one." Eric smiled.

It gives a physical description of the man, but other than that, there isn’t much on the page. “So, who is he?” I ask, causing Doc to sit at the table with a sigh. “Corbin Black is Duncan Ambrose’s number one henchman. He does most of the crime boss’ dirty work. We pulled him in a few different times to try and flip him, but it didn’t work. He’s Duncan’s puppy, loyal to the core. As sick as it sounds, I think he enjoys what he does,” Doc adds. “And, what exactly does he do?” I ask, not wanting to overestimate the man.

"What is your duty? To serve the Emperor's will! What is the Emperor's will? That we fight and die!"—chants from Warhammer 40,000 (videogame) (Content Warning—this chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore, reader's discretion is advised.) ** Ides of January, 41 AD The raw cry of—"Traitors!"—ripped through the torch-lit tunnel like a banshee’s wail. “Die!” SWISH THRUST “Urk—”

I imagined eyes watching me from the dark, eyes of people who would know me, eyes of those sent to find the Emperor’s mysterious helper. My mind played the beggar’s words over and over: "The Emperor… marrying the girl who saved him… Liora…" How simple it was, how impossible, it was almost funny. If only they knew. If only *he* knew. The Emperor, the powerful ruler of Kaldor, was about to marry a lie without knowing it. And the person who had made that lie happen was now running away, scared of what would happen.