Title: Between Thrones and Thorns

Classic's POV

I stood at the center of the Hall of Allegiance, where light rarely touched the floor.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

In the Empire, silence didn't mean peace. It meant someone was watching, waiting, calculating their next move.

My boots echoed as I approached the grand Blackwood sigil carved into the marble. My name—Classic Blackwood, Fourth in Line, Heir by Fire not Favor—carried weight in every corridor.

But lately, that weight felt like a noose.

Chris summoned me two days ago.

Not with a message.

With a question:

"Where do you stand?"

It haunted me.

I didn't answer then.

I didn't know how to.

Chris was more than ruler—he was our father, our god, our architect.

But now… he was fraying. Like a god unsure of his own commandments.

And Skylar—once the gentle queen—had taken a blade to the empire's chest and called it love.

I didn't blame her.

I blamed the system that turned love into rebellion.

The truth?

I stood nowhere.

And everywhere.

A foot in Chris's legacy.

A heart in Skylar's hope.

A mind whispering, Burn it all. Rebuild it right.

I reached the center and looked up at the thrones: One empty. One claimed. One cracked.

That last one… was mine.

But I didn't sit.

I pulled out my personal comm and tapped in my private code: Project 47-Rising.

The screen lit up. Dozens of underground agents. Silent supporters. Even a few disillusioned First Class citizens—people who wanted change but feared Chris.

I had them all… in my palm.

"Activate phase one," I said softly. "Silent disruption. Resource leak. Let the empire sweat."

I paused before ending the transmission.

"And monitor both of them—Skylar and Christiana. Neither side wins until I say so."

Click.

I slid the comm back into my jacket, exhaling as I stared at the thrones again.

I didn't want war.

But I wasn't about to be a pawn in one either.

If Chris fell, or Skylar rose, it wouldn't be by chance.

It would be by my design.