Citizen POV – Number 31,872 (Formerly Azeem)
The screen flickered to life like it always did at noon sharp—BNN, the Blackwood Broadcast Network. For most of us in the Outer Regions, this was our only lifeline to the core of the Empire. Our only thread to those who ruled our fate.
I was in the communal watch hall, shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of others. The air was thick, hot with breath and anticipation. We all knew something was coming. It had been weeks of silence. No sightings of the Supreme Ruler. No new decrees. The cities had grown restless. Even the Executives who usually walked through our districts with fire in their eyes now looked uncertain.
But today... today was different.
The screen went black for a moment—and then she appeared.
Amara Blackwood.
Empress. General. The woman with fire in her eyes and steel in her voice.
She stood tall in her dark cloak with the Blackwood sigil over her heart, flanked by banners of the Empire that draped like thunderclouds behind her. Her face was colder than the North Barrens. Her voice? It didn't shake. It commanded.
> "Let it be known to every region, every border, every city and village of the Blackwood Empire..."
The room fell dead silent. Even babies stopped crying.
> "A Blackwood National Gathering shall be held within the Supreme Courtyard of the Royal Castle. This gathering is not optional..."
She let the weight of her words drop like stones.
> "Every registered number—be you First-Class or Surviving Citizen, Royal Guard or Council Elite—must attend. Absence will be met with immediate execution."
Gasps broke out around me. My own heart kicked like it was trying to leap out of my chest.
Execution?
There were children here. Elderly ones who could barely walk. Travel to the Supreme Courtyard was a nightmare even for the healthy and connected. But none of that mattered now. Death for absence?
The woman wasn't bluffing. You could see it in her eyes. Her voice didn't rise or fall. It just struck—each word a blade.
Then came the kicker.
> "This announcement... will change the structure of this Empire permanently."
Permanently.
My skin chilled.
My neighbor leaned in. "You think it's about Lord Chris?" he whispered.
I didn't answer. No one did.
Because no one knew. That was the problem.
Chris Blackwood, the Supreme Ruler, had vanished. No death announcement. No mourning. No transition. And Amara—his wife—was now the sole voice echoing through the walls of power.
And if this was how she ruled alone...
I wasn't sure whether to fear her... or respect her.
But one thing was clear—come two days, we all had a choice:
Show up, or die.
In the Blackwood Empire, absence was no longer passive.
It was rebellion.
And rebellion? Always came with blood.