POV: Number 7 – First-Class Citizen
We don't speak unless spoken to. That's the first rule.
I'm Number 7—formerly Elijah Blackwood before the Law of Numbers stripped us of names and left us marked by digits on our necks. Seven is a good number. Powerful. Respected. Close to the center. But never in the center. That's reserved for 1 through 5—the Royal Circle.
I serve directly under the Imperial Command. That means I see things. Hear things. Know things.
And right now, I know this wedding has become the true test of loyalty across the entire empire.
Chris—the God of Blackwood—is marrying Amara. A woman once dismissed as a shadow to Skylar. Now she's rising as the bride of the supreme ruler. The whispers say she's been promised the title of 02, a throne beside him that no longer belongs to Skylar.
I see Skylar too. Broken, yes. But not defeated. The kind of broken that makes you dangerous. Like a sword chipped at the edge—it cuts deeper.
The palace is alive with war dressed in wedding gowns. I pass the grand hall, and I see Amara's face carved into glass. She smiles in stained light, but her real smile? It only shows when she's giving orders that end lives.
Classic—Number 4—he moves silently in the shadows. Too silent. I think he's planning something. Not against Chris, no. But for him. Loyalty born from blood.
But me?
I serve. I watch. I wait.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in this empire, it's this:
Every rise is followed by a purge.
And if I must choose between gods and queens, I will stand where the shadows lean.
To be continued…