EMPEROR LUCAS

CHAPTER TWO : EMPEROR

A splash of cold water struck my face.

I jolted awake, choking on a gasp. The chill soaked through my thin, ragged clothes, and my body trembled—not just from the water, but from the silence that followed.

The scent of blood that had lingered in the air was gone. I sniffed, confused. *Had they taken Father away?*

“Where is my father?” I whispered, my voice hoarse as I turned toward the sound of footsteps.

The guard didn’t reply. Instead, something soft landed beside me with a dull thud. I reached for it—it felt like bread, though the smell was strangely rich, like the burgers Laila once described from the city markets.

“I can’t eat without seeing him,” I whispered, tears already burning my blind eyes.

Then… I heard it.

A voice. Calm, quiet, almost *tired*.

*“Kid… you have to be strong.”*

I froze.

The voice came closer, not in body, but in essence—as though it passed *through* me.

*“This place… The Crescent Palace… doesn’t let people live easily. If you survive today, you might wish you hadn’t.”*

My heart skipped. I tried to speak, to ask *who* it was, but the voice was already fading.

*“Your fate is cruel, child. But eat. You’ll need strength for what’s coming.”*

And then… nothing.

Just silence.

With trembling hands, I lifted the bread to my mouth. Each bite was heavy. *Where is Father? Where is Laila?*

Moments later, I felt them. Heavy boots. Sharp metal scent. Cold fingers that yanked me from the floor.

The guard didn’t speak. He simply dragged me along, and suddenly — light shifted, the air shimmered — *teleportation*. I’d never experienced it before, but I knew we weren’t in the dungeon anymore.

The ground beneath my feet felt polished and vast, the air thinner… colder.

The guard beside me muttered under his breath, “Oh no…”

And then a voice thundered from ahead:

*“You dare use magic within the sacred walls?!”*

*Wait… magic is forbidden here?* My heart raced. I was already lost — *blind*, and now in a world with rules I didn’t understand.

Then, silence.

But not the comfortable kind.

A suffocating silence.

Even without sight, I could *feel* it. People were watching me. Judging. Whispering with their minds, if not their mouths.

A tremor crawled up my spine as I *sensed* something ahead. Not someone… something.

Dark. Massive. Ancient.

And then — a flash.

*Not a memory. Not a dream.*

A *vision*.

A shadowed throne. A demon. Seven horns curling upward, eyes like embers, and a blood-soaked crown.

The moment vanished.

My knees buckled.

Then—Father’s voice.

*“Please, Your Majesty. Spare my daughter. Kill me if you must. She’s innocent.”*

My breath hitched. That voice… it was real. *Father was here?* No, it couldn’t be…

And then, another voice. Cold. Ancient. Cruel.

*“Seems he and his daughter will pay for my sins.”*

I gasped. *Wait… that wasn’t said out loud…*

I wasn’t imagining it.

I had heard his *thoughts*.

But… I was blind. Powerless. *Wasn’t I?*

—

The Crescent Palace was said to be carved from obsidian and moonstone, glowing faintly under the silver light of its sacred tower. Legends whispered that it was once a temple — now corrupted by a lineage of emperors whose names made even warlords tremble.

Its halls echoed with forgotten spells. Magic was forbidden, yet pulsed through its veins.

Slaves were forbidden to speak.

No one dared make eye contact with the Emperor.

And those who entered the *Throne of Shadows*… rarely left with their sanity.

I was cut off mid-thought when a voice shattered the silence.

*“Noooo!”*

It was my father.

I froze, my heart crashing in my chest. “Father!” I screamed. I stumbled forward, trying to locate him, but darkness swallowed every direction. My hands fumbled through empty air.

That was the first time I truly *hated being blind*.

I sniffed.

Blood.

The coppery scent was sharp, unmistakable.

“No... no... please no...” I whispered, tears spilling down my face. “He wasn’t stabbed, right? Tell me he wasn’t stabbed…”

Then, once again, I heard him cry out — this time weaker, laced with agony.

*“What are you doing to him?!”*

I moved faster, bruises screaming against my skin, but I was helpless. My fingers touched nothing. No walls. No warmth. No Father.

And in my despair, I said what I would come to regret for the rest of my life.

*“Why are you heartless?”*

*“If you’re as powerful as you claim, you’d have known we’re innocent!”*

Silence.

Then the world answered me.

The sky *roared*.

A low, guttural thunder echoed like the growl of an angry god. I remembered what Laila once whispered in fear — *“When the Emperor is enraged, the heavens tremble. Thunder cracks, earthquakes stir, and oceans lose their calm.”*

I didn’t believe it then.

Now, I did.

With no warning, I was seized by rough hands and thrown onto something cold and metallic. My battered body hit with a dull clang. I whimpered as the pain stabbed through me again.

Then, a voice — cold and commanding:

*“Mark her.”*

Two words.

But in the Crescent Palace, that was everything.

Legend said the Emperor never spoke unless it held divine weight. That his words were fate-bound. And if he *did* speak... it meant someone’s destiny had been sealed.

“Wait... what does that mean? Mark?” I stammered, voice trembling.

No answer.

Hands grabbed at me. Ripped at my clothes.

“No, please! Stop!” I cried. “Don’t look at me! Please—EMPEROR, I BEG YOU!”

I could hear my father’s voice in the distance, broken and pleading. “Please, Your Majesty, not my daughter—please...”

But it was all in vain.

I was stripped bare under the cold gaze of unseen eyes. Shame burned hotter than the bruises on my skin. My sobs echoed in the silence.

Then pain exploded across my back.

A rod. *Red hot*. Iron bit into my skin.

I screamed.

Searing, burning pain tore through me like fire racing through dry leaves. My visionless world turned white with agony. I was losing strength. Darkness pulled at the edge of my mind.

Then... he spoke.

*The devil. The Emperor.*

His voice was quiet. Cruel. Final.

*“She is mine... for now. She dies by the next full moon.”*

And just like that, the weight of his presence vanished.

I collapsed.

My breath came in short, shallow gasps. My back was aflame. My dignity, stolen. My soul — cracking.

Rough hands grabbed me again.

And I was dragged away.