Page 102 of The Sovereign: Part One
“So… what do we say?”
“The truth.That I anticipate you.That you’re never unsure.That compliance is not only instinctive, it’s embedded.Above all, Isara, you can’t show fear,” Maxim said, his grip firm around mine.“Lev may suppress Ezri’s ability to register stress indicators, but your outward composure is still critical.It’s the one variable we can’t afford to lose control of.”
Once I nodded, Maxim stepped out and circled the front of the transport, offering his hand as I stood.As we approached The Paragon, I lifted my gaze, squinting against the morning light.Its pillars rose in integrated white alloy and softened lines, an architecture meant to soothe.But I had never felt more like a criminal walking toward judgment.
The threshold swept open, the walk across the entry pavilion brief, but exposed.I imagined biometric sensors embedded behind every pristine panel—analyzing gait, vocal cadence, affective signals.Hyperion didn’t need confession—it had data.
At the private intake panel, a chime sounded.A Hiven stepped forward, male in form, expressionless but approachable, his voice calibrated to soothe.He wore a pale graphite uniform tailored with seamless lines, a thin silver band circling one wrist, pulsing faintly in time with his internal interface.“Senior Advisor Poeima.Maxim.Welcome.I am Cero, your Intake Liaison.Right this way.”
We followed Cero through a series of corridors until we reached a narrow room of curved angles and translucent panels.It was more observation deck than office.A single table.Two chairs on one side.Two on the other.No personal items.No clutter.Nothing to disarm us.
And then they entered.
Dr.Eshran Virek was taller than I expected, with a posture that seemed carefully rehearsed.His jaw was severe, his cheekbones angular, his skin a warm bronze tone that caught the morning light with a muted sheen.His eyes, deep brown and sharply attentive, remained visible behind thin black glasses—minimalist in design, rimless along the bottom, with faint etchings across the temples that hinted at their embedded interface.They weren’t corrective, of course; no Sovereign born of The Cradle would require them.They functioned as a tool of precision: calibrated for emotion recognition, biometric fluctuation, and cortical patterning.
His clothing, like everything about him, was carefully considered.Dark trousers, a high-collared slate blue tunic that brushed mid-thigh, and an asymmetric fastener lent just enough design to feel intentional without drawing attention.Professional.Civilian, but not casual.
Ezri followed a step behind.She was less imposing in stature, but not in presence.Her movements were fluid, exacting refined to the edge of artifice, as if even her silences had been programmed for efficacy.Her skin was smooth and golden-toned, her features symmetrical to the standard of Supplicant design: dark eyes, almond-shaped and serene, brows arched in a way that suggested perpetual attentiveness.Her hair was drawn back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, not a strand out of place.She wore a muted taupe ensemble—tailored of course—slim-fitting trousers, and a sleeveless, high-collared overlay that brushed the tops of her boots.Her smile was perfect.Warm, but finite.
“Senior Advisor Poeima,” Eshran said, extending a hand.“A pleasure.And Maxim.”
We both greeted Eshran and his accordant and colleague, Ezri.Hands were shaken—brief, precise.The room carried the sterile hush of surveillance, a silence engineered to heighten awareness of every breath taken, each blink, the careful placement of hands.Formalities unfolded exactly as expected—nothing rushed, nothing improvised.The artificial calm pressed in around me, like gravity recalibrated for control.Then, with a subtle motion from Eshran, we were guided to our seats: a structured pair, low-set and deliberately close, ensuring no gesture between us could go unnoticed.
I reached for Maxim’s hand, and he took it without hesitation, his fingers curling around mine with a steadiness that subsided more than just my pulse.We sat in the still transition that followed the introductions and brief intake, the space between us charged with unspoken preparation.I didn’t look at him.I didn’t need to.The first question was coming, and we both knew each one that followed would only become more difficult.
“Let’s begin where things are often clearest,” Eshran said, his tone comforting, conversational.“The moment your dynamic shifted from concept to reality: your Courting Commencement.What did you perceive in each other that day?And more importantly, what did you interpret?”
I adjusted in my seat, immediately calming when Maxim gave the faintest squeeze of my hand.I took a slow breath, my fingers still anchored in his.
“When the threshold of my Sablestone opened, everything in me went quiet—not from overwhelm, but recognition.It didn’t feel as if I’d designed him at all, only recognized him.I’d spent months calibrating preferences, refining what I thought I needed.Yet when I saw Maxim, none of that mattered.It was visceral.He didn’t feel like data.He felt like home.”
“That’s lovely,” Ezri said with a genuine smile.She leaned a bit forward.“Maxim?”
Maxim didn’t hesitate.“From our first exchange, there was emotional coherence.She didn’t overwhelm or hesitate.She allowed space, engaged directly, and demonstrated trust before it was required.Everything in me—every programmed instinct—recognized that.It wasn’t just the beginning of a bond.It was confirmation the pairing was correct.My response to her wasn’t conditioned, it was immediate.”
“And your first impression?”Ezri asked.
Maxim answered, “Isara was… clarity.Every sensory calibration aligned the moment I saw her.The parameters of attraction, of compatibility, of relational priority, all confirmed in that first second.But beyond that, there was a resonance.Her presence silenced every competing process.My attention, my entire orientation, centered on her.Not as an objective, as a purpose.If I could call it anything, it was recognition.”
Ezri tilted her head slightly, observing him.
“And you?”Eshran asked, eyes shifting to me.“What did you feel?”
I hesitated.“I felt excited, yes, but also an odd sense of calm.There was nervousness, too.Not because I doubted the process or Maxim, of course, but because I had come face to face with the culmination of every conscious choice and unconscious longing I’d ever carried.I remember feeling a bit foolish for being nervous at all.But also, relief.And not just that he was who I’d envisioned, but that he felt familiar somehow.As if I were reuniting with someone I hadn’t known I’d missed.”
There was a silence then.Brief but weighted.
“And since then?”Ezri asked gently.“Tell me how you’ve grown together.”
I glanced at Maxim.
“We’ve learned each other’s rhythms,” I said carefully.“He anticipates my needs, often before I know I need them.He doesn’t interrupt my routines, but he’s present in them in so many supportive ways.”
Ezri’s eyes flicked to Eshran.Just once.
“Isara, do you ever doubt Maxim’s affection for you?”
“No,” I said too quickly.I froze, a second too long, but once Maxim’s thumb caressed mine, I let my shoulders relax.“No one has ever made me feel the way he does.It was, admittedly, an odd sensation in the beginning, to know there was no question of whether or not he would choose to be with me, to commit to me, if he’d be attracted to me.It was freeing in so many ways.It’s difficult to describe.”
