POV: Chris – Blackwood 1
The throne room was colder than usual.
Not because of the air—but because of information.
"Bring up the hidden tunnel schematics," I said sharply.
Amara tapped a sequence on her wrist chip, and the room dimmed. A red-lit 3D projection of the underground map emerged, pulsing like veins beneath the Empire's skin.
"This one," I pointed. "This is where they're headed."
Dictator Christiana entered, her coat dripping rain. "They think it's a myth," she said. "They don't know we left it open on purpose."
"Correct," I replied. "Let them think they're smart. I want to know everything. Where it starts, where it branches, how far sound travels inside it. I want heat signals. Heartbeats."
Amara nodded. "Already deployed nano-trackers in the air ducts. One of them is… different."
"Different how?"
"She doesn't shake. She leads."
I smiled slowly.
"Mira. 17,984. Let's not kill her yet."
---
POV: Agent 9 – Elite B.A.M Operative
"I don't get it," I whispered to my comm.
"Don't get what?" came Christiana's voice.
"We could have collapsed that tunnel. Sealed it. But we left it... breathing."
"Because Chris wants to see what she becomes."
"That's a risk."
"Everything great begins with risk," she said. "Even gods gamble. This is his game."
---
POV: Mira – 17,984
There's something wrong.
The air feels… watched.
We've taken 3 lefts, 2 rights. No alarms. No doors. Too easy.
They want us down here.
"I think we're walking into a trap," I whispered.
But no one turned back.
Because names don't run.