Page 23 of The Sovereign: Part One
I exhaled, leaning back as the drawer sealed with a near-silent click.The city pulsed beyond the windows.Even the smallest actions held weight here—every word spoken, every choice made, every piece of vellum tucked away.And for all our calculated steps, someone like Roan always managed to step off-script, curling the edges like flame to paper—charming, insistent, and inconveniently human.
Chapter Six
At last, the outline was complete, a meticulously crafted blueprint of persuasion and precision.
I sat back, stretching my arms above my head as I surveyed the neat blocks of text hovering in the auric display before me.Calyx had assisted in organizing my thoughts, trimming redundancies, strengthening arguments, and anticipating counterpoints.A flawless composition.Or at least, it should have been.I took a breath, scanning the interface one last time before giving the closing instruction.“Calyx, save and finalize.”
“Saved,”Calyx responded.“Would you like a review synthesis?”
“No.That’s enough for now.”
Initially, confidence surged through me.I’d outlined the key points and structured my rationale in a way Chiron and Artemis would surely respect.It would be compelling without being provocative, strategic without capitulation.But the assurance was short-lived.Like the tide pulling back from the shore, it left me exposed, suddenly questioning if I’d anticipated everything they might bring up, every angle they might exploit.It was a distinctly human affliction, to be so sure in one moment and adrift the next.Supplicants never wavered in such a way.They didn’t question themselves to the point of undermining their self-worth, they executed, adapted, and improved in an upward trajectory.In that respect, they existed with a liberation we could never claim.Unburdened by doubt, from second-guessing, from this spiraling descent into self-imposed inadequacy.
I exhaled and pushed back from my desk.“Calyx, send the final draft to my archive.I’m leaving for my lunch with Avaryn.”
“Acknowledged,” Calyx responded.
I slipped on my coat and gathered my tresset, smoothing my fingers over the structured fabric as I left the Dominion Building.The air outside carried the clean sterility of Hyperion Proper, tinged with the muted thrum of energy currents pulsing through the city’s infrastructure.Exponents moved with synchronicity, maintaining the landscape, trimming foliage, cleaning walkways, and refreshing the air with subtle bursts of ionized purification.Whenever I encountered exponents methodically tending to the streets, I found myself contemplating how those in the old world had managed to breathe, with choking pollution in the air, exhaust from gas-powered engines clogging their lungs, and a sanitation system that had yet to be streamlined.The comparison was proof of Hyperion’s success.A world meticulously arranged, every aspect calibrated for efficiency and betterment.Where Auren saw control, Sovereign saw order, a system designed to eliminate suffering, to ensure every citizen thrived.
I made my way toward Prymm Port, the nearest Skith terminal, and stepped onto the smooth entry platform hovering just above the mag line, a silent current of electromagnetic energy pulsing beneath the transit system.There were no kiosks or queues, only a biometric scan embedded in the flooring that confirmed my clearance with a pulse underfoot.A pod glided into place, the hatch parting with barely a breath to reveal contoured seating, ambient lighting, and the clean trace of citrus and linen in the air.
I settled into my seat, letting my head rest against the cool panel.These moments on the Skith would soon be gone.From the first moment of our Court Date, Maxim would drive me anywhere I needed to go.I’d never considered it a loss until now, the solitude, the ability to exist in a fleeting bubble of stillness before stepping back into the current of life.I wasn’t sure if I’d miss it or not.
Somewhere above the gentle undertone of the Skith, the low murmur of a newsfeed filtered through the cabin.
“…a minor systems irregularity prompted a temporary dispatch of Reg units to the outer quadrant earlier today.The incident, attributed to residual legacy coding artifacts, posed no threat to the public.Officials from the Office of Synthetic Oversight confirmed that all protocols were observed and functionality restored without disruption.”
A minor irregularity requiring Regs?That seemed disproportionate.I glanced toward the auric display hovering near the ceiling, but the segment had already moved on to a piece on synthetic agriculture metrics.No mention of who reported the irregularity.No images.Just the right amount of detail to reassure without actually explaining anything.I blinked once, letting the thought pass like static.
As the Skith slowed to a smooth halt at my stop, I stood, adjusting the strap of my tresset over my shoulder.The hatch opened, and I stepped onto the polished walkway, the subtle drone of the transport fading behind me.The plaza was serene, with pathways edged by manicured greenery and a faint luminescence embedded beneath the tiles.My heels clicked against the walkway as I made my way toward Halcyon.
Avaryn’s favorite café was nestled within the Garden District, its exterior a warm contrast to the sleek geometry of the Core Sector.The design was intentional—neutral tones, natural wood accents, a faint scent of warm vanilla threading through the air.It was a place meant to evoke an atmosphere of comfort while still adhering to the clean proficiency expected.
Avaryn was already waiting at a table by the window, her long, wavy dark hair falling over one shoulder as she watched passersby.She barely looked twenty-one, her youth untouched by years of carefully measured choices, or by the duty of maintaining a family’s standing.
“You’re late,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips.
“You’re early,” I countered, sliding into the seat across from her.
An exponent approached, placing two leirs of pristine, mineral-infused water before us with mechanical grace and then gliding away.
Avaryn leaned forward.“Before we get into anything, I just want to say, I’ve thought about what you said, and you don’t need to worry.I’m handling my infraction.”
I studied her, trying to gauge how much of that was true.“I know you will.But Avaryn, you need to think about our family.Reputation isn’t just something to uphold—it’s something to protect.”
She sighed, but there was no real frustration in it.“I know.And I will.But sometimes the Vanguard needs to be reminded that they’re not immune to ridicule.”
“I don’t disagree,” I said, leaning back.“But you can do it in a way that doesn’t mark you as a target.Be smart about it, Avaryn.”
She considered that, nodding slowly before shifting the topic.“All right, enough about that.Tell me about your Eidolon.What does Maxim look like?”
I hesitated, but Avaryn arched an expectant brow.There was no way around it.“He’s… different than I imagined,” I admitted.“Butfarbetter.I mean, obviously, the AI would exceed my expectations, right?But it’s still almost eerie how it seems to know me better than I know myself.”
Avaryn put a hand on the table to snap me out of my musings.“Isara.What does he look like?I need to know!”
I smiled.“He has features I’ve only ever seen in archived renderings from the Old World—strong, sculpted, with a warmth to his coloring that hints at ancestors from coastlines where the sun never sets.Were you ever shown the clips of the… what was it?The…Mediterranean.In Tier Three from just before the Birth Crisis.”
Avaryn seemed to melt as she nodded, resting her chin on the heel of her hand and heaving a big sigh.
