Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Chapter 7.1 - Arrival ≠ Acceptance

Not princess. Just Aria.

That alone made her pause.

"Redirect two meters right. Solara holo-rest detected. Lucerna Port is active."

She blinked. "Now?"

Lyric didn't soften. "Now."

"Biometric instability noted. Elevated cortisol. Pupil stress dilation at 0.07 above threshold. Suggest immediate calibration."

She didn't argue.

A silent pivot. Two steps. She slipped into the side corridor, where a holo-rest room shimmered beneath the gilded Solara crest—its opaline door fading open before she reached it.

Inside: calm lighting. No surveillance. And built into the wall like art, the Lucerna Port—a seamless panel, flickering with pale light.

Aria barely had time to steady her breath before the Lucerna Port pulsed once, read her vitals, and dispensed a delicate veil of mist into the air around her.

"Solvana Mist," Lyric confirmed. "Ultra-fine delivery. Floral-neutral. Fast-absorb. ETA: 7 seconds."

She stood still. Let it wash over her—cool, quiet, precise.

Only when the walls stopped listening did she let herself breathe.

She exhaled. Not relief—just readiness, disguised

Then she walked out, spine straightened—

not because the fear had faded,

but because now it had somewhere to hide.

She was stepping onto a stage already primed for spectacle.

Behind her, the echo of Allegra's parting words still lingered—

"Smile if you must. But never apologize."

At the entrance, ONYX-synced panels shimmered with golden clearance. As she approached, the obsidian doors receded in silence, revealing the chamber beyond.

And Avalon—watched.

The Solara Atrium wasn't a hall. It was a statement.

Circular. Tiered. Drenched in refracted light from an inverted dome overhead.

Spectra-responsive glass layered in veils—not to obscure, but to amplify.

Every eye could see you. Every angle made visible.

Aria stepped into the center.

Not a stage. A crucible.

Above, the Sovereigns sat quiet behind translucent panels—luminescent silhouettes.

The Archons leaned forward, some with narrowed eyes, some with casual disinterest too perfectly performed.

House Presidents flanked the upper edge. Regal. Untouchable.

And near the back—he didn't need a spotlight—Luc.

She didn't look up. But she felt it. That charged neutrality only he could carry.

Beyond the chamber, encased in reinforced crystal-glass, sat the general audience—students across all tiers, faculty and moderators, and selected high-rank observers flagged by the system itself.

Even Spectra units were present—some visible as floating metallic spheres with pulsing cores, others disguised within the architecture, tracking behavioral deviations from the edge of the mezzanine.