POV: Christiana Blackwood
The night had grown cold, but Christiana felt nothing. She stood in the private training court behind the Royal Citadel, sword in hand, slashing through the air in a violent dance of fury and focus.
Her boots crunched on gravel, her breaths sharp. Each strike was a message. Each movement screamed what her lips would not.
Sideline me again, Father.
Let them stand in the light while I bleed in the shadows.
She hurled the sword at the target wall—it embedded deep into the wood with a loud thud.
"I led armies," she muttered. "I enforced your laws. I built the power structure you all now stand on."
Her eyes were glassy, fire dancing in her chest. And then—she heard footsteps.
Not guards. Not servants.
Skylar.
Christiana didn't turn.
"I figured he'd send you."
"I came because I chose to," Skylar said gently. "Not because your father commands me."
Christiana yanked the blade free, turned slowly. Her eyes burned red-rimmed from emotion, but her voice was steady.
"You came to defend her?"
"No." Skylar stepped forward. "I came to remind you who you are."
Christiana's laugh was bitter. "Apparently, a displaced Dictator."
Skylar crossed her arms. "You're my daughter. The firstborn of the Blackwood line. Do you think Amara could ever replace that?"
"She already is. She's giving commands, blocking borders, standing in my place, whispering into Father's ears. And you… you stand by and let it happen."
Skylar's jaw tightened.
"I don't 'let' anything happen, Christiana. But I also don't act out of emotion." She stepped closer. "Your father doesn't need more strength around him. He needs stability. Loyalty. Balance. If you can't give him that, someone else will."
Christiana dropped her gaze, trembling with restrained rage.
"You want me to be calm while you all hand over my throne."
Skylar took her chin gently, raising her face.
"No. I want you to remember that no one can take your throne unless you walk away from it."
They stood in silence.
Then Skylar pulled a scroll from her robe.
"He's called for a private meeting. You, Amara, and him. No aides. No guards. Just truth."
Christiana blinked, caught off guard. "Why?"
"Because he's the God of this Empire. And even gods sometimes must restore balance among their children."
—
Cut to:
POV: Chris Blackwood
Location: The Obsidian Room (Private Throne Chamber)
The chamber was dimly lit, with three seats of equal height, forged from obsidian and gold.
Chris sat in the center, eyes closed, fingers folded under his chin.
He didn't flinch when the door opened and both women walked in—Christiana first, Amara behind.
Neither bowed.
He opened his eyes.
"Tonight," he said, his voice calm but thunderous, "we bury the rivalry. And we decide—who truly deserves to lead beside me."
The silence weighed heavy.
Chris leaned forward.
"And you will not leave this room… until the answer is clear."
—