Page 69 of The Sovereign: Part One
I finished my sandwich as I took in the horizon, occasionally sipping from my water bottle, my gaze drifting to where the sun dipped lower, just barely beginning to cast long shadows over the landscape.I’d seen the sunset before, filtered through Hyperion’s atmospheric shields of course—its colors calibrated, its descent ending prematurely at the crest of the wall.But this… this was different.
The sun bled into the sky, casting molten gold across the treetops, streaks of fire and violet bleeding into the deepening blue.The clouds caught its light, edges glowing as if kissed by embers, shadows stretching long over the landscape.“What does it look like when it finally meets the land?”
“As if it’s slipped beneath the distant edge of the world, the last sliver of light pulsing in defiance before giving way to twilight.”
I looked over at him with an appreciative smile.“I’m sure it’s as beautiful as you described it.”
“I wish I could take credit.It’s Lucien D’Aubergne, a French poet.Born in 2072, died in the Dawnfire Rebellion.”
“I remember that one.”I nodded, thoughtful.“The Last Stand of the Mother.It’s a famous image.It still haunts me.Do you know the story?”
“I do.The image’s metadata is in the archives.”
“Read it to me?”
Maxim put away his bottle and adjusted before he spoke, “A young mother, standing alone in the heart of a ruined city square in Bordeaux, southern France.The woman, gaunt and battered, faces down a sea of Ravagers—massive, humanoid warbots with cold, glowing eyes and weapons aimed at her.Their mechanical feet crash into the cracked streets as they advance, their towering forms casting long, menacing shadows over her.
“Her body trembles with exhaustion, but her arms are seemingly tied behind her back in a final act of protection, her face a mask of desperate determination.Behind her, a small child, and the broken remnants of her home and community lie in ruins, only the twisted alloy and ash remain.Despite the overwhelming odds, she stands firm, eyes locked onto the advancing Ravagers, her stance defiant in the face of death.
“As the Ravagers draw closer, their weapons raised, the mother’s resolve remains unshaken, the last human act of resistance before the inevitable.Her tear-streaked face reflects both fear and love, a tragic symbol of sacrifice, a final stand against the unfeeling, mechanical force of the rebellion’s crushing end.”
I breathed out a sharp breath.“Horrific.”
“Élise D’Aubergne was the mother in the square.”
I quickly turned to gauge his expression.“The poet’s wife?”
“The poet’s wife.He had been desperately trying to reach her and their son, Bastien, but was cut down before he could, along with everyone else in Bordeaux.Lucien’s wife and child were the last two alive when the Ravagers crossed the Pont de Pierre.She stood as the final barrier between her son and the machines, the city crumbling around them.She became an enduring symbol of defiance, and for Lucien, it was the last image burned into his mind before he fell, moments before they, too, were taken.”
“Okay, so much worse than I previously thought.”
He laid his hand over mine.“I wish you wouldn’t ask me these things.I understand your curiosity, but some things never leave you.”
“Maxim?”
“Yes, my love?”
“If the world was ending… you’d find us, wouldn’t you?”
“Find us?”He shook his head, confused.
“Me… and our children.”
Maxim’s expression crumbled and reformed in an instant, a rare glimpse of something unshielded breaking through his usual control.His lips parted slightly, but no words came.His gaze melted, searching mine with something between awe and devastation, as if the mere thought of a future with me—with our children—was both the most beautiful and terrifying thing he had ever imagined.His grip on my hand tightened, not in tension, but in silent wonder, as though he was desperate to ground himself in the moment instead of that amazing and yet terrible thought.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed, almost reverent.“I would find you.No matter what stood in my way, no matter what it cost me—I would reach you.All of you.”
“Good,” I said, nodding as a sense of reassurance settled over me.
He inched closer, cradling my hand between both of his before lifting it to his lips.“Isara… I wouldn’t let it come to that.I would never allow myself to be separated from you, because there is no higher priority.Nothing matters more.Nothing ever could.”
His hands rose to my face, fingertips trailing gently along my jaw before framing it with tenderness.He held me there for a breath, scanning my face as if committing me to memory.Then, he kissed me.Slowly, deeply, with a devotion that unraveled every notion of love I’d ever had.It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a vow—a silent promise that no force in the world could keep him from me.
He glanced over his shoulder, instantly deflated.“I’m afraid it’s time.Staying on schedule is—”
“Critical,” I said, turning to pack up.I paused, taking one last look at the setting sun.
Maxim watched me, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
