Classic's POV
Night cloaked the palace grounds as I moved through the shadows, familiar corridors folding around me like an oath unspoken. Every step I took echoed with purpose, every glance from the guards filled with unspoken curiosity—but none dared question me.
They knew the blood in my veins.
I entered the east wing—an old war room unused since the early days of the rebellion. The lights flickered, cold and dim. My men were already there—five of them. Silent. Loyal. Ruthless.
"You came," I said simply.
They nodded. Not one word. They didn't need speeches. Just direction.
"I'm not here to raise banners or shout my loyalty from balconies," I said, stepping into the center. "But hear me now. I am behind my father—Chris Blackwood."
There were no gasps. No cheers. Just a tightening of jaws and steel in their eyes. That was enough.
"But this support must remain in silence. He doesn't know I stand with him. Not yet. And I don't want him to."
One of the men, Mikel, stepped forward. "Why?"
"Because if he falls, someone must be positioned to rise from the ashes. Not as a savior, but as a shadow ready to strike."
I paused, letting that sink in.
"Skylar plays with sympathy. Christiana plays with fury. Amara plays with fire. But none of them understand the long game."
A heavy breath left me.
"I do."
I turned toward the hologram board behind me, where maps of all empire sectors flickered alive.
"I want all of you to remain close to the factions. Feed me their moves. But do not interfere. When the time comes, we strike—not to take the throne, but to protect it."
Then I looked directly at Mikel.
"I want us—you and me—to protect my father's legacy in silence. Let the world doubt us. Let them look the other way. Because when chaos breaks loose… silence is the blade that ends it."
And with that, we moved. Quietly. Strategically.
Because the loud ones burn first.