Rain poured from the sky like the world was weeping. Cold, angry rain. It dripped from streetlamps, splashed in puddles, and soaked through Zane Veil’s thin hoodie as he walked along the cracked sidewalk, heading to his job for the night.His stomach growled. Loud. Sharp. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday.He clutched the paper bag he always carried, his tools: gloves, cleaning spray, and a rusted keycard for the building. Nothing else. No phone. No wallet. No umbrella. Just the bag.People didn’t look at him as they passed. They never did. He was invisible. To them, he was just “the cleaner.” The one who emptied bins and wiped floors at the gleaming glass tower on Holloway Street.Inside the lobby, everything was quiet. The marble floor shone under soft lights. Big paintings hung on the walls. A security guard behind the desk nodded without really seeing him. “Late again, Veil,” the man grunted.Zane didn’t argue. He just walked to the janitor’s closet. He’d learned long ago, arguing

The morning came like a punch. No sunrise. Just a thick, gray sky outside the tall glass window in Zane Veil’s room. The manor stood still, but Zane could feel something beneath the silence. Like the house itself was holding its breath. He hadn’t slept.After the girl in black broke into his room, stole the Protocol card, and vanished in a cloud of smoke, he knew he was no longer a guest. He was a target.Zane stared at the red ink message she left behind. “The trials have already begun. Survive the night, Heir.”He folded it and slid it into his pocket. The fight wasn’t coming. It was already here.…At exactly 7:00 AM, a sharp knock hit the door. Zane stood, still wearing the clothes from last night. “Enter,” he said, voice steady.The door opened, revealing a tall man in a tight black uniform. Face clean-shaven, jaw strong, eyes like storm clouds.“Mr. Veil,” he said. “Your presence is required. The trial begins now.”Zane narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”“Name’s Commander Ash. P

The shot had missed, but barely. A whisper more to the left, and the bullet would have ended everything.Zane Veil stood behind the broken balcony rail, his chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. The stone where the sniper’s bullet hit was cracked and still smoking. Tiny pieces of dust floated in the air.Around him, chaos. Guards ran in every direction. Red lights blinked in the dark, scanning rooftops, trees, and shadows.Sirens howled somewhere deep in the manor grounds, but Zane didn’t move. Not yet. He stared out into the dark, beyond the lights. He wasn’t scared. He was angry.…Sylra stormed out onto the balcony, gun raised. “You alright?” she asked, eyes scanning the rooftops.Zane nodded slowly, though his hands were still shaking. “Where did it come from?”Sylra turned, shouting orders. “East tower! Find the shooter! Lock the perimeter!”Zane’s fingers closed around something small on the stone. A piece of glass. Dark. Tinted. Smooth on one side, jagged on the other.He

The sun rose slowly over the manor’s tall towers. But for Zane, the light did not bring peace.He stood in the garden at dawn, staring at the small tree his mother once planted. Its leaves were brown now. The roots had grown around the stone path like fingers holding on to old memories. Sylra stepped into the garden quietly. “I know where he’s going,” she said.Zane didn’t look at her. “Cain?”She nodded. “There’s a place deep in the Ashmoor District. Off-grid. No cameras. Old base for the Silent Faction. He’ll go there next. He wants you to follow.”Zane ran a hand through his hair. “What if it’s a trap?”Sylra shrugged. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t walk into it.”…Ashmoor was nothing like the world Zane now lived in. There were no golden gates or polished walls. Just steel, smoke, and silence. Old warehouses leaned against each other like drunks. The air smelled of burnt oil and rust.Zane walked through narrow alleys, dressed in a simple jacket and cap. No guards.

The air was sharp the next morning. Zane stood at the edge of the Clockspire ruins, watching the city breathe below. Sunlight hit the tallest towers. The elite moved like ants in gold-plated cages. But the people on the streets, the forgotten, the watchers, moved with a different rhythm. They were quiet. Careful. Like they knew something was coming. Behind him, Cain and Elen sat in silence.Cain spoke first. “You dropped the cards. That means war.”Zane didn’t turn. “Then let it come. I won’t play their game.”Cain walked beside him. “Then you better learn a new one. Fast.”…That night, the three of them moved into a safehouse deep in the lower city. It was hidden behind a fake scrapyard. Underground. Dusty. Cold. But safe.Elen worked fast, rerouting comm lines, burning any trace of their location. Cain mapped out what he called the "Shadow Network."A web of secret ties between Consortium board members and something older, deeper than anyone knew.Zane listened. And then, he made