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Christiana's POV – The Dictator's Gesture
As her father turned and vanished into the shadows of the throne hall, the air still thrummed with the weight of his words. Thousands stood motionless—no one dared to speak. Not after what they had just witnessed. Not after the Supreme reminded them of the power he held over every single heartbeat in this empire.
Christiana stepped forward now, her cloak fluttering behind her like a second skin of authority. The silence obeyed her presence.
She raised her voice—sharp, yet laced with a different energy. One that balanced the blade her father had just dropped.
"You have heard the Supreme's command. Let his words brand your loyalty anew."
She paused, scanning the crowd. Soldiers, maids, scientists, traders, messengers—even the gatekeepers at the furthest edge of the empire—stood beneath her gaze.
"But know this…" she said, and her lips curled with just the faintest smile, "He is a ruler of great power. But also a ruler of boundless vision."
She signaled to her aide.
A drone flew down from above, scanning the crowd with glowing lenses. Then, slowly, it began releasing shimmering black envelopes—thousands of them—each stamped with the platinum seal of the Blackwood Union.
Heads tilted upward as the envelopes descended like royal snowflakes from the heavens.
"By direct order of the Dictator," Christiana declared, "and as a gesture of honor on the eve of our Supreme's birthday—each and every one of you has now been granted VIP Invitation Status to the Grand Ball."
Gasps rippled through the assembly.
"You will stand beneath the same lights as kings. Walk the same halls as gods. And you will witness history."
She let that settle in, before her voice dropped a pitch—deeper, colder.
"But understand this as well… this gift is not free."
Her eyes gleamed like carved obsidian.
"The Supreme expects gifts from all of you. Not just wrapped in paper or credits… but gifts of loyalty. Gifts of unwavering service. And above all—fearless devotion."
Her voice rang one last time:
"Let your presence at the Ball reflect your worth. Do not dare show your face in front of him empty-handed."
She turned sharply and walked off, leaving behind an army of stunned, honored, and now—terrified—subjects.
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