POV: Chris – Blackwood 1
"Release the tear gas," I ordered coldly.
No hesitation. No emotion.
Within seconds, valves hissed as a faint mist began to leak into the Mirror Room. What started as a haze became a choking fog. The rebels coughed violently, their illusions shattering along with their lungs.
Amara flinched. Classic looked away.
But I… I watched.
Because they had to learn—freedom was not taken. It was given… by me.
> "This is mercy," I said into the mic, voice cold and divine. "You are not dying. You are being reshaped."
Mira, eyes burning red, stood up amidst the chaos.
She didn't scream. She didn't run.
She stared into the nearest mirror.
Her voice was raspy, barely audible:
> "We still see who we are… even through the smoke."
I clenched my jaw.
"Increase the density. Maximum spread."
---
POV: Christiana – Blackwood 3
From the war deck, I watched it all unfold.
My father didn't flinch. Not once.
Neither did I.
But I felt something crack in me. Just a little.
Was this still power… or just control?
And how long before even we couldn't breathe in the world he was creating?