The Emperor's Hand

By Lianis Salum

"Darkness never dies."
Emperor Yviss has ruled for nearly two centuries with a firm grasp over the lands. Some say he's simply Crystalborn- A species of people that are more than human- and some say that he is a god. The god of darkness, no less.

Vite always knew he would have to fight. He was Crystalborn, after all. Like the rest of his people, he was hunted and sold to an Arena to fight for the entertainment of the rich. Yet suddenly, the Emperor takes an interest in Vite, and his entire life is changed. He now has no choice but to live under the terrifyingly manipulative grasp of Emperor Yviss, and is sent on a treacherous journey full of magic, combat, deception, and intrigue in an attempt to hunt down a mythical sword. To make things worse, Vite's best friend has also been taken under the Emperor's guidance, and may be plotting to kill him underneath Yviss' schemes. Only one thing is clear. Vite needs to escape this hell his life has become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lianis Salum
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223701644

Book preview

200 YEARS AGO

As I watched the man ravaging the battlefield, I started to worry he’d never be stopped. His black hair trailed behind him as he moved from man to man, quickly killing or wounding each person who stood in his way. He went by the name Yviss, although rumors said it was self-given. The meaning was known only to him. Something was different about him, though. My eyes stayed fixed on his right hand, which was covered in an inky blackness. From this hand flew trails of pure darkness, wrapping themselves around the eyes of soldiers and blinding them. Yviss was...unstoppable. Against the dark red sky streaked with occasional beams of light, his tall frame was quite imposing as he turned his attention to me. I was one of the only ones left. As he approached, I got the same treatment as everyone before, being blinded by the unknown substance from his hands. He had to be Crystalborn. Creatures that fell from the sky in chunks of shining rock, blessed with unnatural abilities called Gifts. It didn’t really matter now, though. I tried to listen for his movements in compensation for my lost sight, but it didn’t help. Hardly two seconds were over before a cold blade slid into my stomach, sending me gasping to my knees. Yviss knelt at my side, one slender hand placed on the side of my face as the blindness disappeared and I could see him again. Shaking from pain and fear, I tried to form words or move to strike with the sword that was faintly gripped in my own hand. Oh, you can’t be doing that. He told me before I glimpsed another flash of steel, and my hand was no longer attached to my arm. I’ll let you live, though.

I didn’t really want to live anymore, and blood loss would take me shortly. Only one thing brought me the faintest of hopes, carrying confusion with it. Glowing green chains came from hands behind Yviss, wrapping him up and pulling him back. Shock, anger, and maybe even a little bit of fear burst onto his face as he dropped his weapon and struggled to no avail. The chains must have been Crystalglass-the only substance in the world that could stop Gifts from working-because Yviss stopped doing anything supernatural. His outraged shouts rung across the open air, and only then did I realize that these were his own men tying him down. He’d been betrayed. For the most part, his words were indistinguishable as I lay there dying, but I did catch one thing. An oath. The man was swearing to destroy everything that was held dear by those who had gone against him. Or maybe just everything. I doubted he would manage such a thing. They’d imprison him, and he couldn’t possibly escape. My consciousness finally slipped away, leaving me satisfied in the false belief that at least Yviss would never be free in the world again.

Chapter 1

Aman stood next to me, significantly taller than I was. He had a dark brown beard and a green coat, matching his eyes. I didn’t know who he was, and any questions I asked were met only with a stunning silence. Something about him felt powerful, though. From his stance to the build of his body and the way he looked at me, everything seemed regal. I felt like I should bow, but suddenly a voice from nowhere interrupted.

Vite! Get up!

The voice of my adoptive father shattered whatever dream-like state I had been in, and I forced myself to my feet. My only sleeping position was on the floor, so I didn’t need to make a bed or anything. The Crystalborn had no right to such things. We fell from the sky, were taken in and raised brutally for around fourteen years, then we were sent to fend for ourselves or sold to the Arena. Pushing away the remnants of my weird dream and the sleep, my mind started running again and I remembered. Today was the day. I took myself to the main room of the small house, facing my ‘parents’ with a dull expression. I’d known this was coming, and they’d made sure of it. They didn’t treat me like their child so much as their slave, which I was thankful for. Getting attached just wouldn’t do.

It’s time to leave. Get out. the man who was in the place of my father ordered me to leave. It was blunt and brief, but that was what I’d been expecting for the past fourteen years. I thanked him and his wife for the time they’d allowed me and slipped out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back.

On my own in the wilderness, I wasn’t much better off. No food or extra clothing, and no place to sleep. All I had was my Gift, the unique power owned by each of the Crystalborn. At least I got a good one; manipulation of the earth and nature was a rather useful ability. Gifts usually began developing at around fourteen years of age, but mine had been present for a little longer than a year already. I could use it on a basic level and was confident I’d survive easily. I was wrong.

I lasted a few days, to be fair. Nobody came after me, and I survived deep within the forested grounds of my homeland, known as the Pine. The trees there had some fruit, and that was what I lived from. It wasn’t terrible. Then there were the Hunters.

Hunters were men or women who specifically made a living off finding and selling children to the Arena. They always had armor made of Crystalglass, a substance that completely nullified Gifts, so they weren’t at any risk. In other words, it was a cheap and cruel way to make money. I’d never seen them until I ended up alone deep in the trees, looking for food. A glimpse of shiny green caught my eye, reflectively standing out among the foliage. Not worried about it, I went towards the weird substance and pushed aside the leaves. Then there was a man, dressed in Crystalglass armor and reaching for me. I couldn’t do anything. Trying to use my Gift was futile, as it simply didn’t work. Dodging and running only stalled him for another few minutes before I was out of breath and the man was able to grab me by the shoulder and hurl me to the dirty ground. Winded, I tried to breathe, but the last thing I saw before being knocked out was a heavy boot coming down on my face. It seemed I was going to be brought to the Arena.

As I stepped into the glaring sunlight, feeling the boards coated by a thin layer of gritty sand beneath my feet, I could feel the eyes of hundreds on me. They didn’t cheer, of course. New fighters were never cheered or expected to survive. Behind me, the gates of the Arena slammed against the ground with a resounding thud. Opposite me, across the stadium, was a similar occurrence. Only, for this other fighter, there were cheers. And not just a few. The entirety of the crowd rose as one with yells and applause for him, a well-known gladiator here. Of course, I would have to fight him. It was intended to be a fight for simple and fast entertainment; releasing a veteran on an inexperienced fighter-me-to slaughter them. Striding towards the middle of the arena, the man seemed highly confident. He was obviously Crystalborn, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, but I didn’t know what his Gift would be. Most likely something extremely lethal, or he wouldn’t be alive right now. All about a performance, he waved and posed for the crowd. With a sigh, I stepped out to meet him in the center of the Arena, prepared to be killed. His eyes combed over me, anticipating the easy kill he thought he was about to make. A trumpet sounded to announce the beginning of the match, and both of us rapidly moved backwards to avoid any quicker attacks. The man waved his hands at me then, spraying out a sizzling purple goo. Dodging around it, I watched as it disintegrated the floor where it landed. Definitely not something I wanted to get hit by. Not expecting me to still be alive, the guy repeated the move several more times, making me hop and jump around to avoid losing my feet. Every time he shot out the liquid, the crowd cheered more, and I got slightly more worried. Irritated and afraid for my life, I began to use my own Gift. Looking my adversary straight in the eyes, I flicked my hands at the sand coating the ground. It began to move subtly, going mostly unnoticed until there was a pile next to his feet. Unnoticed, that is, until he stepped in it. Frowning even though I was about to win, I raised my hands. As they moved upwards, so did the sand on my enemy’s feet, continuing until it encased him entirely and choked out his breath. The now statue-like man twitched a few times, and his hands burned through the sand, but he eventually went still after several minutes. Silence fell onto the Arena like a cloak, and I simply settled down onto the rough floor exhausted from my efforts. Using my Gift was not something that came without a cost. Tracing my eyes across the crowd, I stopped when I saw the Emperor in his protected box, coated by Crystalglass, the only substance in any world that could not be affected by Crystalborn Gifts. I hated the sight of him, and would kill him if I ever got a chance. He was responsible for all this; the Arena was entirely his idea. Forcing kids to kill others for entertainment. To his credit, it was extremely clever of him, as it kept the people distracted from other problems within the Empire. Being one of those who he sacrificed for the fighting wasn’t fun for me or any of the rest of us Crystalborn. I understood that we made for more dramatic battles with our Gifts and such, but the cruelty was overwhelmingly obvious. As long as the crowd roared for violence, though, this wouldn’t end. I’d get my chance someday though-everyone makes mistakes...Even an Emperor.

Empires are held together by the people. Keep the people fed and entertained, and nothing could go wrong. This one was no different. The Emperor used Crystalborn men and women for one reason: entertainment. All Crystalborn were hunted down or sold to the Empire once they turned 14, and there was no hiding. We would almost always end up in here, hated and used. The name Crystalborn was the politest of the many slurs and insults used to refer to our kind; it simply came from the fact that we fell from the sky in chunks of shiny rock rather than being born. This rock could be mixed with a few other substances to form Crystalglass and counter the abilities of the Crystalborn, along with burning them on contact. Which is why an Arena handler was beating me with a Crystalglass rod. Each blow led to another flinch or gasp from me, but I refused to scream or cry out. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. If he wasn’t covered in Crystalglass, I would try to end his life. He laughed when he saw the angry glare I was shooting at him.

It’s not so bad, you’ve won your first few fights, against veterans no less. You’ll live to do it again next week, as a crowd favorite!

As if that’d help. The guy had no idea what he was talking about. Saying that my situation wasn’t terrible whilst he beat me with the very thing that could do the most damage to me.

You know nothing, I spoke quietly, To kill a man is no small ordeal.

Shut up. You don’t have the right to talk to me like that. He sounded angrier now. I heard the rod sweeping down at me once again and spun around to catch it, trying to ignore the feeling that my hand was on fire. The expression on the man’s face was worth every second of it. Turning around and walking to my ‘room’ before he could call for assistance, I heard him muttering behind me. Something stupid about me not knowing my place, which was ridiculous. I knew my place; it simply wasn’t here. The rooms were simply sparsely furnished cells, renamed to take an edge off the harsh reality that the public so loved to ignore. There was nothing I could do about it except sit on the scratchy bed and hate myself for the deaths I'd caused, even though I hadn’t had a choice.

The next few weeks passed in a very similar manner. I woke up, was fed a meager breakfast, trained, ate lunch, and trained some more. At the end of the week, I would be brought back out into the arena and given something or somebody to kill. A man spewing water from his hands. A woman with 7 heads.  A Leathren, which was just ridiculous. Leathrens were massive creatures, with immense, thick, bodies, tough grey hides and four stubby legs, along with massive, feathered wings. Everything they sent at me, I killed. Even the senile old man. Even the innocent animals. All of it, because it was them or me. I couldn’t do anything to stop it all, except to give my opponents easy deaths. Life was just a wheel of killing during those weeks, and the blood on my hands could fill an ocean.

Chapter 2

Another day began, and I stepped out into the bright sunlight as usual, with an announcer yelling my name. One of the crowd favorites, we have...Vite! I rolled my eyes and didn’t react as the audience cheered. Best not to encourage them. Instead, I traced out some letters in the sand, hoping that at least some of them would see my message. It read ‘Go to hell’. I sat down next to it, smirking as the crowd went silent. Rich people could be vaguely amusing at times. Show them something unpleasant and unexpected, and they’ll shut up fast. I watched the gate opposite me slide open for what felt like the thousandth time. Its dark mouth seemed empty, until I looked closer and noticed a tall-ish figure standing in the shadows. A strangely confident young man walked out of the chamber, looking to be not much older than I was. Another child that I would have to end. Great. I got up and travelled to the middle of the Arena, bracing myself for yet another battle to the death.

The guy could fight. For the first time since I had entered this Arena, I was at risk of losing a battle. My only tool here was the sand which had helped me so much in the past duels, and it was rapidly diminishing. Across from me, my opponent, who was launching fire from his body, was rapidly melting the sand into glass, which meant I could no longer control it. Sand wasn’t the only thing the fire was impacting, however. A few vibrant tongues of flame had been aimed at me, and I had several burns at this point. How the man still had energy left was beyond me. This had to end soon, or I was done for. Rolling to the side as yet another flaming bolt came at me, I had an idea amid my nervousness about dying. Using my Gift to collect the last remaining sand, I formed it into a disc and forced it directly into the path of the newest onslaught of fire, immediately melting it into a glass disc not far from me. The heat was immense to have melted it so quickly, and it needed a while to cool. As I sprinted across the space between me and the newly formed shield I had made, my adversary managed to have a second of extreme accuracy and nearly decapitated me with a stream of flame. My hair was singed and my eyes felt like they were melting, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Frantically dropping to the crusty floor while the crowd cheered, I felt around for the glass disc and shoved it in between me and a new oncoming rush of fire, grimacing at the heat that burned through it. It was starting to look like this might be my last fight. My opponent slowly and cautiously began approaching, hands ablaze and a grim look on his face. It was a little obnoxious. He hadn’t won yet, but he fought extremely well. Or, he had incredible endurance and power. Breathing heavily, I got back to my feet and slowly advanced, my glass shield in front of me. The other Crystalborn directed a torrent of flame into the disc, and I could feel it rising in temperature. Rivers of sweat were pouring down my body and my arms spiked in heated pain, making it difficult to concentrate. Finally, just as I thought I couldn’t take any more, I reached the boy and rammed into him with the piece of glass. The distraction gave me enough time to jump at him and start raining blows from my fists onto his body, rapidly knocking him out to the great pleasure of the audience. They were chanting now.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

It was becoming annoying, honestly. I glared up at them, dressed in all their absurdly fancy clothes and hairstyles, then I looked back at the kid unconscious on the floor. My instincts cried out for me to end him, knowing that there would be a brutal punishment if I didn’t. And yet...I couldn’t do it. If he