Avalon felt engineered beyond comprehension—like it floated just outside the pull of Earth, detached from time, gravity, and consequence. Every surface responded. Every comfort anticipated.
And yet... somehow, it still felt the same.
As if no matter how far they'd risen, or how unreal the world around them became—this, being here, together, was still the one thing that needed no calibration.
Two twins, alone in a world still strange to them—beautiful, coded, and constantly recalibrating. Wrapped in engineered warmth, yes—but anchored by something older. The one thing Avalon couldn't optimize.
The feeling of being together. Of not needing translation.
As if some fragment of childhood had made it through the migration—quietly, invisibly—just waiting for nights like this to resurface.
They settled into the oversized bed, the lights dimming with a soft whisper as the suite shifted into rest mode—every line of the Suite responding like it knew what they needed before they said it.
RoomCore calibrated. SleepCore optimized.
At Aria's request, the blackout membrane dissolved into a slow-spinning starfield—an outer space ambience precisely tuned to their biometric baseline.
The kind of visual silence that lulled the body into trust. No alarms. No surveillance.
Just infinite velvet sky mapped across the ceiling, scattered with stars that shimmered in algorithmic rhythm, like a lullaby only Avalon could compose.
It wasn't real, of course. But it felt safer than real.
Aria lay still for a moment, her voice barely above the hush.
"I miss Mom and Dad," she said. "I wonder if we'll ever see them again."
Aiden didn't speak right away. Just reached out, barely brushing her wrist — the kind of gesture that didn't need words.
"I think about it too," he said finally. Quiet. Measured. "Every day."
She didn't reply. She didn't have to.
She slid beneath the covers, and the fabric responded instantly — a seamless cascade of warmth and weight, calibrated by SleepCore to her current comfort index.
The blanket didn't just drape; it wrapped.
Not clingy, not clumsy — just precise.
It cocooned her legs in a spiral of engineered softness, sensing posture shifts and adjusting texture on command.
"You know something strange happened today," she said, casual as if commenting on the weather. "Cassian Dantes linked me."
He glanced over.
"Prestige-linked?"
She nodded once. "System didn't even ask for permission.
No prompt. No option to decline.
It just... happened. And it's hidden.
No Veritas update, no ONYX record.
Like it knew another uproar would spark if it went public—like with Luc."
She paused.
"Even Sovereigns have to request. But him? It was automatic."
She turned toward the ceiling, voice quieter.
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...
Chapter 8.5 - Zeroth Protocol
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