Tales Of The Empire Novels & Stories

The empire would fall this time. And he would rise. END OF FLASHBACK

That wasn’t becoming of a slave. “Not very much, Lord Lane,” I admitted. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t interested—just that the tome did not hold much information about the empire. “There isn’t a lot of information out there for us…humans,” I explained. “I know only that the empire collapsed in just half a century. But I don’t know why. No one knows why. And no one knows what happened to the king and the princess.” Lucas smirked, looking somewhat satisfied by my answer. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Your history stories seem to be so selective. As if the fine details were plucked out and replaced with fairy tales. The truth about Cearysal isn’t so pleasant.”

I made my greedy and took it twice, almost forgetting that we were just finishing eating. - "I have been passionate about urban legends and folklore for several years now. What is the best known legend of your Empire?" Isaac asked with stars in his eyes. - "There are a lot of them, but the most famous is the Banshee Lake, also known as the Lamentation Lake. To help you get your bearings, I will show you a map of the Empire. Here in the center is the Kingdom of Midona with the capital of the Empire, Thetia, at its heart. You must notice the kingdom is surrounded by a mountain range: the Chain of 300, a disturbing name isn't it. Between 1500 and 1600, the Empire was invaded without anyone expe

The commander looked at me. "He speaks the truth." "What accord?" He hesitated. Then sighed. "Twenty years ago the Empire forced every kingdom to sign a treaty." "About what?" "No nation was allowed to expand beyond its borders." "And if they did?" He looked back at the Imperial army. "This." The realization struck me. Neither kingdom had been fighting for survival. They had both been trying to conquer disputed land. And now the Empire had come to punish them. Cassian drew his sword. It was unlike any blade I had ever seen.

“You think standing beside him makes you untouchable? You think this crown you’re wearing is real?” He took a deliberate step closer, ignoring the murmurs of the staff, his gaze burning holes through Lucy. “Let me tell you something about empires. They don’t last. They *crumble*. From the inside out. And when they do, it’s always the so-called queens who bleed first.” A hush fell over the room. His voice dropped lower, darker, intimate enough that only Austin and Lucy caught it. “Remember this moment when the walls start closing in. Because even queens get dethroned.”

We were fighting it the way we loved each other. With violence. With precision. With inevitability. With a bond reckless enough to reshape kingdoms. And God help anyone who stood in the path of a story like that. Because empires crumble. But storms with names? Those live forever.

"Fine. I will show you who I am. I will show you what was erased from your history books." Suddenly, the cave walls didn't look like stone anymore. The shadows began to swirl, creating a living mural of smoke. Remiel saw a vision of a great empire, not the one he lived in, but one far older. He saw a king standing atop a throne of bone, commanding shadows that moved like soldiers.

We stood there breathing hard, with the heavy, filthy tension hanging between us, and when Sophie called down asking for her bedtime story, I stepped back reluctantly while my cock ached for release, because we both knew we had crossed into dangerous territory that would be almost impossible to step back from. “Go read to her, Emily, and make sure she falls asleep fast tonight, because after that, I want us to continue this conversation somewhere more private, where I can tell you all the nasty things I plan to do to that sweet virgin body of yours, and you can tell me how badly you need your boss to ruin you.” Emily nodded with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes full of lust as she headed for t

No, this was something darker, hotter, the kind that left me aching and furious every time he sauntered through the door like he owned the world. He’s twenty-four now. I’m nineteen. He dropped out of trade school after one semester, claiming he was “building his empire” by flipping houses and working odd construction gigs. He’d come home covered in dust and grime, muscles carved from real labor, smelling like hard work and trouble. Our parents ate it up—their reliable, charming son back under their roof. Me? I was the rebellious one who’d just started community college classes online while bartending nights, scraping together cash to escape this suffocating suburban prison.