Jonas Merrow's Burden
Jonas Merrow adjusted his glasses three times before he stepped back into the boardroom. The folder in his hands felt heavier than paper should. It wasn't just ink and reports — it was a weight that could bury him alive.
He was no titan. No empire-builder. Just a thirty-seven-year-old analyst who'd clawed his way into Erevos through late nights and unpaid loyalty. Yet here he was, carrying Michael Rivers' life in his hands, knowing that if he stumbled, men like Whitcombe and Rowe would devour him whole.
He set the folder on the table. Silence pressed in. The serpent seal still glimmered where Maggie had left it. Jonas tried not to look at it.
---
The File on Michael Rivers
Photos spilled out first: Michael pale, eyes hollow, a hospital band tight on his wrist. Then reports: car accident, brain trauma, tumor.
"Six months," Jonas muttered. His voice shook, but he forced himself to continue. "Academic transcripts — extraordinary. Post-accident, impossible. Near-perfect recall in multiple disciplines. He reads like a machine. And…" He hesitated. "There's Arthur Caldwell. Librarian. Mentor. Sixty-nine."
At the name, Whitcombe's brow tightened. Caldwell had taught him, once, decades ago. The ghost of respect passed through the room.
"And Claire Bellamy," Jonas continued. "Daughter of Richard Bellamy. Military service, Afghanistan. Strategic background. Loyal."
Maggie's lip curled. "So the boy surrounds himself with books, ghosts, and soldiers. Charming."
---
The Jackals Circle
Daniel Okafor leaned forward, knuckles pressing the table. "One spark," he said. "That's all it takes. Rivers has two allies who believe in him. That is dangerous."
Lucien smirked through smoke. "Dangerous? He's already dying. That's his curse, not ours. Kill him now, and he's forgotten. Let him linger, and the story grows teeth."
Klein's eyes glinted. "Stories don't kill. Knives do. Rivers has neither."
Whitcombe's cane tapped once. "You've never seen a story turn to a knife. I have."
Jonas felt sweat at his collar. He was no philosopher, no general. Yet even he could see: these people didn't fear Michael. They feared the idea of him.
---
The Fractured Myth of the Serpent
The conversation turned darker. They spoke of the one pulling strings, but not with a single name.
"The Serpent coils already," Whitcombe muttered.
"The Viper's bite doesn't need warning," Klein added dryly.
Lucien chuckled. "The French call him the Whispering Fang. Poetic, non?"
Daniel's voice lowered. "In Lagos, they call him the Coil. Once he wraps you… there is no escape."
Jonas' blood chilled. Four names. Four shadows. All describing the same man. Whoever he was, even titans spoke of him like he was myth.
---
Beyond the Glass
Jonas left the boardroom when dismissed, folder lighter but his chest heavier. He paused by the elevators, glancing at Catherine Haldane. She stood unmoving, her silence suffocating. Her eyes flicked once to him, and in that look he felt the chill of death.
He hurried away, clutching his breath like a secret.
---
Cutaways – The World Trembles
Lagos, Nigeria: Crowds surged in the streets, burning effigies of oil executives. Protesters shouted, "Free the sun! Free energy!" Okafor's empire shook, though he sat safe in London.
Paris, France: In a dim café, DelaCroix's old rivals laughed over wine. "The Whispering Fang moves against him," one whispered. "Lucien will hang by the same rope he once sold."
Warsaw, Poland: In a mercenary bar, scarred men muttered over vodka. "The Viper's contract is out," one said. "Not for a country. For a man." The room fell silent.
Langley, Virginia: A CIA analyst slid a redacted file across the desk. Codename: The Adder. The senior officer signed it, hands shaking. "Close the file. Burn it. Some snakes aren't ours to hunt."
---
The Coils Tighten
Back in London, the board scattered, each carrying dread. Only Whitcombe lingered, watching the storm lash against the glass.
"Every empire falls," he whispered again. "But with the Serpent in play, it may not fall the way we choose."
The serpent's seal on the table gleamed faintly. Jonas swore he saw it shimmer, as if alive.