Echoes Of The Empire Novels & Stories

The sharp crack of porcelain echoed through the kitchen. A plate slipped from Aurelia’s wet fingers and shattered against the marble floor, fragments scattering in every direction. Before she could even bend down, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Aurelia, are you blind? That’s imported porcelain! Do you know how expensive that is?” The head servant, Mrs. Rowan, stood at the doorway with her arms folded, her expression filled with disdain. Her lips curled slightly as she looked at Aurelia as if she were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

Blackridge did not wake up to the sound of church bells or the polite chatter of a city in recovery. It woke up to the low, rhythmic thrum of three hundred engines, a sound that vibrated through the pavement and rattled the windows of the skyscrapers like a localized earthquake. The city knew. The whispers had traveled through the alleys and the boardrooms: the Vance empire was at the bottom of the Pacific, and the Steel Phantoms were no longer just a club. They were the law.

Her hand trembled as she reached for it. “Don’t answer unknowns,” Sophia whispered. Elara’s thumb hovered. The light outside stretched like a hand over the city. She pulled back. The phone rang again.

"He thinks we’re going to try to negotiate. Or sneak." He looked at the stage. "He doesn't know we brought a hammer." The clock struck twelve. The crowd went silent. The mechanical music stopped. The Emperor stood up. His exoskeleton whirred, amplifying his movements. He walked to the edge of the stage, a microphone drone hovering before his face. "Citizens of Oakhaven," the Emperor rasped, his voice booming from speakers mounted on every building. "Today we celebrate the triumph of order over chaos. The triumph of iron over flesh."

“We can’t fight this! We need to find a way out before—” The ground beneath their feet cracked open, and the sky above seemed to darken. The rebels, once organized, scattered in panic, realizing too late that they were all part of a much larger plan than they had ever known. And at the center of it all, the masked figure stood, his arms raised high as if commanding the very earth beneath them. “This is your end, Kael,” the figure called, his voice rising above the chaos. “The empire has already been destroyed. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“What backlash?” Joe met my gaze. “The kind that turns cities to dust.” Lucas stiffened. “You’re lying.” “I’m really not,” Joe said calmly. “That’s the cruel part.” The light around my body flickered again, reacting to my rising fear. The ground beneath my feet trembled slightly. Lucas noticed. He looked at me, his voice lowering. “Emily. Look at me. Breathe.” I tried. Truly. But the more I focused, the louder the echoes became. Images flashed behind my eyes—women standing in circles of light, ancient stone halls, wars fought with glowing hands instead of claws.

“Why were you there?” He could hear the syllables ricochet off lacquered pillars. A courtier shifted; a whisper slid through the room like a knife. Zane’s mouth went dry. “I heard—” He swallowed. “I heard someone screaming. I went after them. It was dark in the corridor. I didn’t see a face.” The crown prince’s voice, low and cold, cut in. “You chased a shadow and now claim you couldn’t see its face?” The prince’s lips curved like a file. Everyone noticed the smirk; it was a smirk with teeth.

Pov: Jane Jansen I struggled to keep my eyes open through the pain as it engulfed me. He stood above me with a malicious smile on his face. My executioner. There was no pity in his cold unfeeling eyes and I stared into the cold empty dark orbs as he pulled the lever. The sound of the blade dropping was the last thing I heard while I swore vengeance on them. On all of them. Everything here was different from home. From the people to the smell to the exotic foods they had. It was an experience that made my heartbeat race, forcing adrenaline to run free across my lithe body. Tonya was glad to have me and she showed me around.

They were wizards, in Kade’s eyes, of making the world of the rich and powerful dance to their tune. He was too young to remember a time before Sinclair and Associates—their first, noisier, more public child, in a sense. By the time he was born, the empire was firmly established, its roots sunk deep in the foundations of the city. It wasn’t until he was a newly-minted teenager that he understood the full nature of what it meant to be at the head of that empire. What it meant to be a Sinclair and to carry so much power, so openly in his name itself.

"Have your visions come back?" Eamonn is handing me the notes he and I have been working on the past months. Much to my surprise, my young friend has a lot of strings to pull on in the pack and was able to have neighboring settlements to send their archives and genealogy charts. "You've been quiet ever since you came back from the mountains....like you're not listening to just what we can hear. And then you saw my vision during Yule..."