Chapter 6.2 - Echoes of The Unseen

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Not why.

And certainly not where it would lead.

Only one truth settled in with perfect clarity:

Something was coming.

And the system had already started to brace.

And that's what made it dangerous.

The ONYX pulsed once — low, private.

Not from Vox.

Not system-scheduled.

A Veritas feed override.

Direct access. Whitelisted sender.

Her name blinked softly on the edge of his interface, written in ivory serif:

[Veritas: Aria Lancaster]

— "Check your golden key. Something's... off."

Aiden didn't move.

Didn't reply.

Didn't look away.

He just stared at the message —

not because he understood it,

but because something in him... shifted.

A quiet alignment.

Like a lock turning.

No sound. No proof. Just... click.

He didn't know why.

Didn't know how.

But he knew one thing:

That card in the vault —

it mattered.

Strangely, even Aria felt it too — when no one else did.

That quiet pulse of knowing, unspoken but undeniable.

The kind of signal that doesn't need language.

He stood without a sound.

Not rushed.

Not reactive.

Just... inevitable.

The StyleVault responded to his voice — seamless, soundless, immaculate.

A panel glided outward, cool air whispering around pressure-sealed velvet. No urgency. No prompt. Just... readiness.

The card was there.

Exactly where he'd left it.

Presented like everything else Avalon considered aesthetic: deliberate, curated, and precisely opaque.

Because the system hadn't flagged it.

Hadn't logged it.

Hadn't cared.

Not yet.

Upon arrival, it was categorized as a family heirloom:

Legacy Identification Crest.

Ceremonial. Symbolic. A placeholder for potential.

The tray extended without touch.

No dramatic flourish.

Just weightless efficiency.

And there it was.

Wafer-thin.

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