The transit to the Solara Atrium felt longer than it should've.
Not in distance—the Maglev capsule glided in perfect silence from Core Nexus to Solara Sectra.
But in weight. In the kind of silence that filled even the sleekest glass cabin with pressure.
As the capsule doors slid open, Aria stepped into the outer vestibule of the Solara Atrium—alone in posture, but flanked by Allegra and Aurora, whose silence now carried the weight of something unsaid.
Allegra slowed.
Her gaze swept the gathering just beyond the crystalline partitions—reading not just the faces, but the ranks. And something in her expression faltered.
Just for a second.
Then quietly, barely above breath, she murmured to Aria:
"This isn't standard."
A pause. Then sharper—
"That's not just Solara's board..." Allegra said, her voice low, sharp with new tension.
"That's every House's senior delegate, even some House President. Their highest elected minds. The ones who don't attend unless something's about to shift."
Another beat.
"And Sovereigns. Most of them. Even..." Her voice dipped.
"Luc."
Aria didn't ask where. She didn't need to.
The moment the capsule doors slid open, she felt it.
The hum of scrutiny—not loud, but piercing.
The kind that sees through skin.
Every breath in the Solara Atrium tasted rehearsed.
Every polished surface reflected not just light, but expectation.
And not the flattering kind.
She wasn't just entering a room.
She was walking into a verdict.
She had felt small before.
Since the day she arrived, Avalon made sure of that.
But this was different.
She stepped into the lion's den—
but here, the lions wore legacy and silence.
No growls. No roars.
Just eyes polished like obsidian.
Waiting. Measuring.
Already certain she wouldn't survive the hour.
Her throat was dry. Her hands colder than they should've been.
The steady poise she always carried—sharp, sarcastic, untouchable—
was being outpaced by a new rhythm.
Her heartbeat. Everywhere.
In her ears.
In her spine.
In the silence between footsteps.
She could feel it pulsing all the way to her fingers—
not from fear of the unknown,
but from knowing exactly what this meant if she failed.
She didn't get far.
"Aria," Lyric's voice came through—low, composed, and sharper than usual. The usual lilt was gone. No teasing warmth. No playful inflection.
YOU ARE READING
Valmont Series - Inheritance Code
Teen FictionWhat if your perfect life was just a rehearsal? On their twelfth birthday, Aria and Aiden Lancaster wake expecting luxury, freedom, and the future they were promised. Instead, they're given an ultimatum: Leave everything behind - their friends, thei...
