The Veritas Heir

6. THE COUNCIL

The mansion was quiet when Zane returned from the Silent Room. Too quiet.

He walked slowly through the long marble hallway, his boots echoing in the dark. He held the red Protocol card Cain had left him. It felt warm in his hand, like it was pulsing. Alive.

His twin brother. Real and dangerous. Zane’s mind raced with questions. Why did their mother hide Cain?

Why did Cain want to burn the empire? And who were the real enemies Cain spoke about?

Zane stopped at the hallway mirror. His reflection stared back, eyes darker now, face older than before. 

Just a few days ago, he had been cleaning floors. Now, he was holding a card that could change the world. But the world wanted him dead.

…

When Zane finally reached his room, Sylra was already waiting inside. She stood by the window, arms crossed. “You went alone,” she said. “To the Silent Room.”

Zane blinked. “You knew?”

She nodded once. “We always know. But we let you go.”

He didn’t ask who we were. Not yet. “I met someone,” Zane said. “My twin.”

Sylra didn’t react. No shock. No gasp. “I know,” she said.

Zane stepped forward, voice low. “How long?”

“Since the first day,” she replied. “Cain Veil. Raised by the Silent Faction. Same blood, opposite life.”

Zane sat on the edge of his bed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because the Council forbade it.”

That word made Zane pause. “The Council?”

Sylra walked over and placed a folder on his desk. It was black. No title. Just the mark, half black, half white. “The Shadow Council of Veritas,” she said. “They run the Consortium. They’re the real rulers and they want to see you.”

Zane stood slowly. “When?”

“Now.”

…

Zane changed into the suit laid out for him. Black, sharp-cut, silent as a whisper.

Sylra led him through hidden tunnels behind the mansion. Down metal stairs. Past coded doors. Through a long corridor lit only by blue lights.

They reached a metal gate. Ash was there, waiting. “No weapons past this point,” he said.

Zane handed over his blade. Even the red Protocol card was taken. “They don’t want lies,” Ash warned. “And they don’t want weakness. Speak only the truth, or speak nothing.”

Zane nodded.The gate opened. The chamber was huge and dark, shaped like a circle.

Twelve chairs surrounded the center. Each chair was tall, carved from black stone. Symbols glowed faintly on the floor, ancient runes Zane didn’t understand.

The Council sat in silence. Twelve figures. Some men. Some women. All in black robes. Faces covered.

One stood. “Zane Veil,” the figure said. The voice was distorted. Masked. “You are the living heir. The flame reborn. The blood that rises.”

Zane stood at the center, hands by his side. Another councilor spoke. “You survived Trial One. You passed Trial Two. But you brought danger with you.”

A third voice: “The twin.”

Zane kept his face steady. “I didn’t know about him. He found me.”

The councilor closest to him leaned forward. “And what did he say?”

Zane hesitated. “He said he wants to burn this empire.”

A cold silence followed. Then a deep voice growled, “Then he is the threat.”

Zane spoke firmly. “No. He’s a warning. He didn’t kill me. He gave me this.”

He pulled the red card from his pocket. Gasps broke the silence. The eldest councilor stood slowly. “That card hasn’t been seen in twenty years.”

Zane stepped forward. “What does it mean?”

“War,” the elder said. “That card was given to the heir who refused the crown. The heir who destroyed cities. The one we erased from history.”

Zane stared at the red card. “Cain has it now.”

“No,” the elder said. “He made you choose. He gave it to you.”

Zane’s eyes widened. “Then what happens now?”

The elder turned to the others. “All in favor of cleansing the twin?”

Five hands rose. “All in favor of watching?”

Six hands. Zane counted. That was eleven. The twelfth councilor had not moved. Zane turned toward the last chair.

The figure there leaned back. Said nothing. But then, he lifted his hood. Zane gasped. It was Harlan Graves.

His old boss. The man who fired him. Humiliated him. Zane’s fists clenched. “You?”

Harlan smiled slowly. “I told you, janitor,” he said, “you were never ready for power.”

Zane stepped forward. “Then why am I still alive?”

Harlan’s smile faded. “Because I let you be.”

The elder councilor banged a black gavel. “Enough.”

He turned to Zane. “You have one week. Find your brother. Learn the truth. Bring it to us. If you fail, both of you will be erased.”

Zane nodded once. “Understood.”

…

As he left the chamber, Sylra joined him. Her face was pale. “You didn’t say everything,” she said quietly.

“No,” Zane said. “I didn’t.”

“What did you hide?”

He looked at her. “The real reason Cain let me live.”

Sylra stopped. “What was it?”

Zane’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because he wants me to join him.”

…

That night, a message arrived. It wasn’t on paper. It was on fire. Zane’s childhood home, where he once lived with his mother, was burned to the ground.

No one was inside, but carved into the blackened front door was a symbol. Half black. Half white, and under it: “Choose, Brother. The Clock is Ticking.”