POV: Chris Blackwood (Still in Disguise)
They left me alone again, locked in this crumbling cell that stank of forgotten men and fading hope. But I wasn't forgotten—not truly. The seed was planted. Doubt was crawling into their minds like ivy.
I lay on the hard slab, one eye trained on the flickering light overhead. I had survived assassins, civil war, betrayal—even death had once knocked on my door and found me too stubborn to take.
This… this was child's play.
Footsteps again. Softer this time. More composed.
The cell door opened without ceremony, and in stepped a woman in a black coat with a golden sash wrapped across her chest—the mark of a high-ranking handler. A Black Axe observer.
She stared at me with mild interest, eyes sharp as daggers, scanning my posture, my skin, my hands.
"You caused quite a stir," she said. "You understand you disrupted the king's week of peace?"
I remained hunched, shivering slightly. "I didn't steal the bread. I just... touched it. I was hungry."
"You asked for a lawyer. You named the Dictator. And you said Amara would know who you were. Strange names to roll off a beggar's tongue."
I raised my head, just slightly, enough to meet her gaze through the filth. "I know loyalty when I see it. I know power when I feel it. I know who truly rules."
She narrowed her eyes. "Stand."
I slowly obeyed. My back cracked, knees aching for dramatic flair. She stepped closer and whispered, "You're not who you say you are… are you?"
I blinked slowly, then whispered back, "If I told you who I was... would you believe me?"
Her jaw tightened.
"You're clever," she said. "Too clever."
"I'm loyal," I corrected her gently. "To the vision. To the crown."
She turned, snapping her fingers. The guards rushed in, eyes wide.
"Get him clean clothes," she ordered. "Feed him. Don't say a word about this to anyone. If I find out his name spreads before I confirm it… I'll slit tongues myself."
They froze.
"Do it!" she shouted.
They scurried out like rats. She turned back to me.
"I'm not saying I believe you yet. But I know enough to know you aren't ordinary. And I don't think the King will want this story leaking—not until he decides why you're playing this game."
I smiled beneath my hood.
"I play no game," I said. "I live in the roles I choose. And this one... is far from over."
She stared at me for a moment longer, then turned on her heel.
I was getting closer now.
Let them dress me up. Let them feed me. Let them escort me like a ghost through the palace halls.
Sooner or later… someone would call my name.
And when they did, the Empire would remember—
The God-King never left.
He only wanted to know who still feared the weight of his name.