POV: Darius
The air was thick as I reviewed the palace logs and footage, triple-checking timestamps, cross-referencing movements, and combing every corridor Classic had walked that day. Varrick's suspicion had rattled Amara—and through her, the Empire's balance itself. But I knew Classic. He played the shadows like a seasoned ghost, yes, but he wasn't a traitor. Not to Chris. Not to the cause.
I requested direct access to the vault logs—ancient Blackwood security, older than most of us even knew existed. Few knew how to read them anymore. But I did. My father made sure I learned every code the old way—paper, pen, and the silence of discipline.
And there it was.
At the exact time Skylar infiltrated the inner corridor, Classic was at the eastern rampart—speaking with the High Archivist. A place with no surveillance... except one. A relic, a single lens embedded in the eye of the giant Blackwood statue in the Archive Chamber.
I rushed there myself, scaling the tower to access the old node. It flickered—ancient tech—but it worked.
Classic. Standing. Speaking. Holding an ancient book of Empire law. Next to the High Archivist.
I downloaded the feed and raced back.
---
POV: Amara
When Darius burst into my office, I braced for bad news.
"Amara," he said, breathless. "He's innocent. Classic didn't betray us. I have proof."
I watched the footage. Every second of it. The timestamp aligned. No room for doubt.
Relief washed over me... and then guilt.
I'd doubted him. Even if only silently. Chris hadn't—but I had.
"Where is he now?" I asked quietly.
"Alone," Darius replied. "Waiting for a verdict he doesn't even know is being debated."
I nodded. "Bring him to me. And prepare a formal apology draft. I'll present it myself. Publicly."
---
POV: Classic
When I stepped into the War Chamber and saw Amara standing there—not with suspicion, but with the weight of realization—I knew something had changed.
"You doubted me," I said quietly.
"I'm sorry," she replied, voice steady. "For a moment, I did. But never again."
She walked to me and handed me a badge—Blackwood's highest seal of internal defense.
"We want you to lead the Internal Intel Division. Guard Chris. Guard us—from within."
I accepted without hesitation.
"My loyalty never wavered," I said.
"I know," she replied.
And in that moment, something unspoken was restored. Not just trust—but faith.