Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Chapter 7.4 - Proof of Nothing

There was no record, no tournament, no framework that could justify her presence—not in Avalon's language.

Even legacy—the story she had been told, the quiet assurance whispered before departure—no longer held.

She had asked Lyric.

She had traced the legacy records herself, line by line, hoping for some anomaly she could shape into an answer.

But the name Lancaster did not appear under any of the Founding Twelve.

Not in blood. Not in bond. Not in shadow.

Even Aiden—her twin, her constant, the one who solved everything—had tried.

He spent nights combing records, cross-referencing patterns, questioning logic.

If there was an answer, he would've found it.

But even he came back empty.

Not because he gave up.

Because there was nothing to find.

No lineage. No override. No mistake.

Just absence—so precise it felt intentional.

And if Aiden couldn't explain it...

What chance did she have?

She wished—just once—that their parents had told her everything.

Not just the letter. Not just the inheritance.

The truth.

The kind that threads Lancaster to Avalon, past the myths, past the protocol.

Not the polished calm in their voices.

But the reason behind their stillness—

when they watched her board the jet, saying nothing.

The answer behind their silence.

The one they clearly expected her to find on her own.

And now—this was the cost of not knowing.

And then—she remembered the golden key.

She hadn't brought it. It wasn't meant for this.

At least... she didn't think it was.

Because even now, staring down a question she could not deflect, Aria couldn't tell if the key was a solution—

—or a weapon.

And either way, it wouldn't save her from what came next.

Part of her wanted to say it. To declare it was dangerous.

That she didn't belong.

That maybe they were right.

And if they sent her back?

She'd survive. She had a life before this.

But as the thought formed, it felt... false.

Because the idea of going home—however comforting—no longer fit.

The world outside Avalon felt distant now, like a place she had already outgrown.

And as brutal as this place could be, it was the only one that might offer answers.

But a greater part needed to understand why she was here—

and what, exactly, she was.

She remembered her lifeline—her one allowance to abstain.

And at this point, dropping some ranks felt like the least of all evils.

Safer than saying it was rarity—and confirming she didn't belong.

Safer than claiming it was dangerous—risking exile from the only place that might hold answers

Because either way, the verdict had already been written.

They had decided she didn't belong here—long before the question was even asked.

Aria said it clearly—calmly.

"Decline to answer."

It wasn't defiance. It was triage.

She didn't need mercy.

She needed time.

But Avalon rarely gave either.

A quiet ripple swept through the mezzanine. The kind that didn't need sound.

Veritas flickered.

[Resonance: Disrupted]

[Forum Status: Response Required]

The shift wasn't loud—but it was absolute.

Vesaria regarded her—still, unreadable.

Then, with the faintest tilt of her head, she spoke.

Soft. Measured. Almost regretful.

"Unfortunately, the forum requires an answer for this one."

Aria felt it before she registered it.

The shift was subtle—internal. Chemical. Absolute.

The Solvana mist—meant to stabilize thought, to mute adrenaline—was fading.

Not because the tension spiked.

Because time ran out.

Her hands, steady a moment ago, began to tremble.

Not visibly. Not yet.

But the chill had already set in.

Her breath turned sharp. Measured, then less so.

Her heartbeat—once synced to the chamber's cadence—now moved off-tempo, too loud, too human.

For the first time, it caught in her throat.

Across the mezzanine, silence expanded.

Even the ONYX shimmer paused—light interrupted, as if waiting.

She opened her mouth.

No words came.

Next: Linked in Public – He didn't override the system. He redirected its attention.