POV: Commander Varrick
The moment I stepped out of the Supreme Leader's chamber, the weight of failure settled onto my shoulders like a slab of stone. A breach this deep wasn't just an embarrassment—it was a threat to the very core of the Blackwood Empire.
The castle walls may have looked pristine, but trust me… something vile was festering within them.
I tapped into the wrist comm.
"Activate Black Protocol. Full sweep. All mirror logs, magical signatures, scent trails, even unauthorized energy fluctuations in the last 48 hours. I want all gate checkpoints re-verified."
"Understood, Commander. Initiating protocol now."
I marched toward the castle's surveillance chamber—The Eye. A dome buried beneath the east wing, it fed from thousands of enchantments and tech feeds scattered across the palace. Every guard, every maid, every fly that flew through the courtyard could be tracked—unless someone shut the Eye from within.
And someone had.
"Pull up Sector 7, corridor L-X4: Royal Hall intersection," I barked at the technicians. "Show me the five-minute loop from two hours before the breach to two hours after."
The footage began. Everything looked… normal.
Too normal.
"Pause. Zoom in on the door glyph here."
One of the techs frowned. "Sir, the glyph signature was disabled. But there's no log of any override command."
"Which means it was manually turned off from inside the chamber wing."
That narrowed it.
Only five people had clearance to do that without triggering alarms. The system flashed:
1. Chris Blackwood
2. Amara Blackwood
3. Classic Blackwood
4. Darius Blackwood
5. Skylar Blackwood
I frowned. "Cross-reference movements of each individual in the past 24 hours. Use motion shadowing. Show me if any of them passed through corridor L-X4."
A 3D render appeared—Amara's blue outline, Classic's green, Darius' grey, Skylar's violet… but one figure had their trace cut out.
Classic.
The trace was interrupted near the chamber wing for exactly 6 minutes. Long enough to disable the door manually. Long enough for someone to sneak in—or sneak someone else in.
"What was Classic doing at that time?"
The system loaded logs.
"Sir," a technician whispered, "he claimed he was with the stables inspecting a delivery, but the stables camera feed went dark for that same 6-minute window. And the stable master denies seeing him at all."
"Get me Classic."
"Right away, sir."
No accusations yet. Not until we were sure.
But the rot had a smell now—and it was getting stronger.
TO BE CONTINUED…