Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Chapter 9.7 - The Vault Between Question

He didn't care what was waiting below—

because something in him had already broken trying to understand it.

He needed the truth.

Not clarity.

Not answers.

Just the brutal proof that he wasn't losing his mind.

More than sleep.

More than breath.

More than whatever version of himself the system still thought it could contain.

He didn't move like someone seeking meaning.

He moved like someone ready to fall—

because standing still was starting to feel like the real kind of death.

He crossed the threshold like someone who'd stopped believing the map was ever real.

The moment his foot touched the pad, the air shifted. The capsule sealed silently. And without a sound, without any command from him—it began to descend.

The descent was soundless. No hum, no motion feedback, no indicator of depth or direction. Only the subtle change in atmosphere—pressure thickening, temperature cooling, as though the capsule moved not through space, but through intent.

Aiden didn't move. Didn't blink. His hands stayed at his sides, posture steady, eyes locked on the soft curvature of the pod's interior. It wasn't sleek like the public transit rings or the Gravity Loops overhead. This wasn't built to impress. It was built to hide.

Walls of matte alloy surrounded him, with no interface, no data projections, no tracking glyphs. Just emptiness. Precision in silence.

Seconds passed. Or minutes. Time felt abstract here.

Then—The capsule slowed. Not with a jolt, but with a shift in gravity so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

The walls receded.

No doors opened. No mechanisms activated. The pod simply dissolved outward, like mist pulling back from solid air.

Aiden stepped forward—and felt the shift at once.

This wasn't Avalon.

Not the version displayed, broadcast, or curated.

No polished synthstone. No radiant circuitry humming beneath his feet. No AI-sculpted acoustics recalibrating to his presence.

Instead, the space was quieter. Older. Not decayed, not forgotten—just real.

The corridor ahead was made of textured materials: granite-toned composites, brushed metal seams, mineral glass folded into curved lighting strips. Nothing ornamental. Nothing performative. It felt like architecture from a time before everything had to gleam.

The light was low, diffused through layered panels, casting long, deliberate shadows across the floor—like the remains of an invisible grid. No insignias. No banners. No House seals or digital overlays. Just clean geometry and restrained opulence. Intentionally unbranded.

The room he entered wasn't cold like the labs, nor grand like a council chamber.

It was quiet. Precise. Designed for someone who valued control over display.

A study, perhaps. Or something close.

But nothing invited use.

No paper. No screens. No clutter.

The desk sat bare, save for a single analog timepiece—its second hand frozen.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with books. Real ones. No titles, just identical white spines.

And one chair—facing the far wall, turned slightly. As if someone had just left. Or never sat at all.

Then—

A click.

So soft he barely registered it—until the wall shifted.

A seam slid open near the back. Just a sliver. Just long enough to reveal what was never meant to be seen.

Metal. Sealed casings. A pulse of faint blue—alive and dangerous.

Aiden's breath caught.

His pulse kicked harder.

He stepped forward, not sure if he was being tested—or trapped.

He was inside something now. And he didn't know the rules.

One more step—

The vault closed.

Sharp. Seamless. Silent.

Gone.

Like it had never opened at all.

Aiden froze.

Not from fear, exactly. But from knowing—deep in his nerves—that whatever that was, it wasn't for most people to see.

And yet it had shown itself.

To him.

He barely had time to process it before a voice cut clean through the room behind him.

Low. Dry.

A little too calm.

"Took you long enough, Lancaster."

Next Chapter: The Origin Trace

He thought the system had overlooked them.
But Avalon doesn't overlook—it obscures.
This wasn't discovery.
It was inheritance resurfacing through the wrong protocol.

And Cassian?

He didn't bring answers.
He brought memory.

☍ VAULT RESPONSE: SIGNAL RECOGNIZED
Two keys.
Unregistered lineage.
Unrecorded entry.
Legacy: Not Found
Status: ...Accepted.

This was not a mistake.
It was memory reversion.

Submit theory. Initiate commentary.
Why did the Vault respond to the Lancasters?
What does Cassian remember that the system no longer logs?

You are observing an event outside the Twelve.
That makes you part of it.

⸻
Golden Protocol Echo // Veritas Logging Live
Zeroth thread destabilized. Analysis requested.