Hero Of Broken History

The summons came at dawn, one week after the forest, three days after the Emperor's ceremony.

Thane stood at his window, watching servants scurry across the compound's courtyard like ants preparing for winter. Each carried supplies, messages, preparations for what Father had finally announced — the third and final trial.

"One week," he murmured, rolling the parchment between his fingers. The wax seal bearing the Veritas crest crumbled at his touch, falling like drops of blood onto the floor.

The trial approaches, Whisper's voice slithered through his mind. Have you decided what to do with our knowledge?

"The plan remains the same." Thane's reflection in the window looked harder than it had since witnessing Avian destroy the Elder in Darkwood Forest. "If I win the trial, I become heir legitimately. If I lose..."

You reveal him as the Demon King. Yes, we've established this. But are you certain that's wisdom?

"It's strength." Thane turned from the window. "Mother always told me heroes had to be strong to save people."

The lie came easily now. His mother had never said that — she'd spoken of clever shepherds and kind fishermen's daughters. But he'd spent years twisting her gentle stories into lessons about power, unable to accept that she might have been teaching something else entirely.

A memory flickered unbidden. His mother in the library, reading him the tale of the Shepherd and the Dragon. He'd been seven, bruised from training, burning with the need to be stronger.

"The shepherd killed the dragon because he was stronger!" he'd insisted.

His mother had touched the illustration gently. "Look closer, my brave boy. See how small he is? The dragon towers over him like a mountain."

"But he still wins—"

"Not through strength, sweet one. Through understanding. Through cleverness. Through choosing to be kind when being cruel would be easier." Her voice had been soft as silk. "Heroes aren't always the strongest, Thane. Sometimes they're the ones who stand up especially when they're weak."

"That's stupid!" He'd pushed away from her, child's rage burning bright. "If he was stronger, he wouldn't need to be clever! Father says strength is what matters!"

The hurt in her eyes had been brief, quickly hidden. "Your father sees one path. But there are many ways to be a hero."

Thane shook off the memory. He'd chosen to believe strength was the lesson. It had to be. Her gentleness had gotten her nothing but an early grave while Father barely paused his planning to mourn.

The door opened without warning. Avian stood in the threshold, and for a moment Thane saw him truly — not the child's body but the ancient weight beneath it. The thing wearing his little brother's face.

"Brother." Avian's voice carried that mild tone that made mockery of his true nature. "Father wants all candidates in the main hall. He's explaining the trial parameters."

"Of course." Thane smoothed his expression into noble neutrality. "Lead the way."

As they walked through corridors that had watched them both grow — or in Avian's case, pretend to grow — Thane studied his brother from behind. Every movement was too perfect, too controlled. Like a blade pretending to be a butter knife.

"Three days since the ceremony," Avian said without turning. "The One Who Hunted Death. Quite the title they've given me."

"You earned it."

"Did I?" A pause. "Your shadow spirit must have interesting observations about recent events."

Thane's step faltered for just a moment. Avian knew about Whisper — of course he did. The Demon King had commanded Spirit Kings; detecting a mere shadow would be child's play. But he'd called it 'shadow spirit,' not by name. A probe, not omniscience.

"Everyone has their secrets," Thane replied carefully.

"Indeed. The question is what we do with them."

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. They both knew the truth now — Thane knew what Avian was, and Avian knew that Thane knew. A deadly dance of mutual destruction, held in check by... what? Family bonds? Practicality?

Or was Avian simply waiting for the most amusing moment to strike?

The main hall thrummed with tension. Eight candidates, the final survivors of sixty who'd begun this bloody dance. They stood in loose groups, but Thane noticed how conversations died when Avian entered. How eyes tracked his movement with new wariness.

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The One Who Hunted Death. The child who'd killed a five-hundred-year-old Elder. Three days, and already the whispers had grown into legends.

Selia Draven broke from her group, striding toward Avian with obvious intent. Her scarred knuckles flexed, mouth opening to speak—

Father entered without ceremony, shadows clinging to him like old friends. Whatever Selia had planned to say died on her lips as all eight candidates turned to face their patriarch.

His scarred face swept the assembled candidates, lingering on the tension between them.

"Eight remain from sixty." His voice filled the space without effort. "You've proven your worth through trials of acquisition and combat. But leadership requires more than greed or violence."

He gestured, and servants brought forward a table covered in black cloth. When they pulled it away, eight sealed scrolls lay revealed, each bound with silver thread that seemed to twist against observation.

"The final trial is simple in concept, complex in execution." Father's smile promised nothing good. "Each scroll contains a task. Complete it within one week, and you may compete for the position of heir. Fail..."

He didn't need to finish. Failure in House Veritas had only one outcome worth mentioning.

"The tasks are tailored to each of you. Some are individual challenges. Others..." His eyes moved between Thane and Avian. "Require cooperation. They will test not just your strength or cunning, but your ability to make the hard choices leadership demands."

The scrolls began to glow with different colors — each one pulsing with a unique rhythm. But as they lifted from the table, something unexpected happened. Two scrolls — one wrapped in shadow, one humming with wrongness — began to orbit each other, drawn together like binary stars.

"Ah," Father's voice held dark amusement. "It seems the trial has made its own determination. Some tasks are meant to be shared."

The entwined scrolls drifted toward Thane and Avian, forcing them to reach for them simultaneously. The moment their fingers touched the silver thread, Thane felt a shock of connection — not just to the scroll, but to Avian. For an instant, he sensed the vast depth beneath his brother's surface, and Whisper recoiled in his shadow.

The other scrolls found their recipients — Selia's burning with fury, Marcus's heavy as stone, Clarissa's crystalline and complex. Each candidate received their fate alone.

Except for them.

"You have one hour to read your tasks in private," Father announced. "Or in the case of our brothers, in each other's company. The trial begins thereafter. May you all discover what strength truly means."

Back in Thane's chambers, the two brothers faced each other across his desk. The joined scrolls lay between them, still pulsing with that strange synchronicity.

"This should be interesting," Avian said, settling into a chair with casual grace.

"Father's games grow more complex." Thane kept his voice neutral, though Whisper writhed with discomfort at being so close to whatever Avian truly was.

"Shall we?"

They broke the seals simultaneously. The parchment unrolled, revealing words that seemed to shift between their perspectives:

Your task is threefold: First, you will journey together to the Sunken City of Malethar, where the Empire's darkest secrets lie drowned. Second, you will retrieve the Covenant Seal hidden in its depths — but only one may claim it. Third, you will both return alive, having learned the price of trust between those who share blood but not truth.

Success requires both to survive. Victory belongs to who claims the Seal. Wisdom lies in understanding why this task demands two.

Remember: Sometimes the greatest enemy is the one beside you. Sometimes the greatest ally is the one you fear most.

The parchment crumbled to ash. Thane stared at the residue, mind racing. The Sunken City — he'd heard whispers. A place where the Empire had tested terrible weapons during the Demon War. Where experiments had gone wrong and entire districts had been pulled into the earth.

"Father suspects something," Thane said carefully. "This task..."

"Is designed to force us together." Avian's eyes held ancient amusement. "To make us rely on each other despite... tensions."

He wants to see if you'll reveal me, Thane thought. Or if I'll try to force Avian to reveal himself.

"The Covenant Seal," Thane said aloud. "Do you know what it is?"

"Something worth sending two sons into a death trap to retrieve." Avian stood. "We'll need supplies. Information. The Sunken City doesn't suffer visitors kindly."

"We have a week."

"Less. Three days to get there, three to return. One day in the city itself, if we're lucky." Avian moved to the door, then paused. "Brother? Whatever you think you know about me, whatever plans you're making... perhaps save them until after we survive. Dead heirs inherit nothing."

After he left, Whisper emerged slightly from Thane's shadow.

This complicates things.

"Or simplifies them." Thane began pulling books on the Sunken City. "In a place that dangerous, accidents happen. Powers slip. Masks fall. If I can force him to reveal his true strength..."

He dies to preserve his secret, or lives and stands exposed. Clever. But what if you need his true strength to survive?

Thane had no answer to that. He thought of his mother's stories, of shepherds and dragons working together despite their nature. But those were fairy tales. This was reality, where strength determined everything.

Wasn't it?

He glanced at her books, still waiting patiently on their shelf. One week to complete the trial. One week paired with the brother who might be humanity's greatest threat. One week to decide what kind of man he wanted to be.

The strong one who exposed monsters?

Or...

No. There was no 'or.' Strength was what mattered. He'd prove it, even if it meant walking into hell beside the Demon King himself.

Even if it meant learning truths he wasn't prepared to face.

The trial had begun. And somewhere in the Sunken City, answers waited that would change everything.

Whether Thane wanted them or not.