Page 55 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

Deep in a hidden corridor of the Enclave, I sat dazed, the sterile lights above blurring as I tried to gather my thoughts.

I waited, certain Lev would elaborate, clarify, somehow soften the implication of what he’d just said.

But he didn’t. His expression remained unreadable, as if the truth should have already been obvious.

“Who is he?” Maxim asked.

Lev hesitated, clearly reluctant to say more, but the decision settled behind his eyes. “Braedric is the surname of The Vale’s Rohven—their chief of security—Kaivar Braedric. Joss’s true surname is Bjoran.”

“As in Veyr Eikn Bjoran?” Maxim asked, his composure slipping for a brief moment. “He’s related to the Veyr,” he said in disbelief.

“Directly,” Lev said with a nod.

“You’re telling me Joss is the Veyr’s son?

That makes him… Vale royalty.” I shook my head.

“No. That doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t risk sending someone like him here, not with everything he knows.

And if you uncovered it, Moreau, Cignus Mercier, and The Citadel won’t be far behind. It’s too dangerous, it’s—”

“God,” Lev interjected.

“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking as if he’d just spoken in a foreign language.

Lev cleared his throat. “The Vale didn’t secede just because they reject Supplicants and advanced systems. They believe Hyperion is committing a moral atrocity, creating beings without souls. To them, it’s cruelty. They’re equally disturbed by the way children are engineered within The Cradle.”

I shook my head. “But why ? If we’re truly on the precipice of war, why risk sending their oldest son to Hyperion Proper?”

Lev didn’t answer right away. He exhaled through his nose and pushed back from the console, clasping his hands loosely on the desk as his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the paneled wall.

“The Auren are not like us,” he said finally.

“They never were. Their society wasn’t just built in opposition to ours, it was built in devotion.

Every law, every cultural practice, every breath they take revolves around their God.

Not metaphorically. Literally.” He acknowledged my confused expression with a few short nods.

“They believe they’re called to act. To evangelize.

To reach Sovereign who, in their view, have been cut off from their Creator.

For years now, they’ve sent missionaries through tunnels carved deep beneath the surface, beyond our sensor arrays.

You wouldn’t know, of course. Most Sovereign don’t.

But there are pockets, small, discreet gatherings of Sovereign who meet regularly in secret. They’ve come to faith.”

Lev tapped in a few lines of code, and an interface instantly cast the shape of Hyperion’s rarely seen underbelly, floating above his desk.

My lips parted, but the words caught before they could form.

“They gather in abandoned sublevels, in maintenance tunnels, old subterranean network hubs. They pass scripture by projection, but rebellion lives in the verses scratched onto barkleaf, smuggled in from The Vale at great risk. No one speaks aloud unless the room’s been cleared of AI presence.”

“How many?” Maxim asked.

Lev gave a slight shrug. “Not enough to shake the system. But more than you’d be comfortable knowing. The Citadel considers them an infection. A slow, festering problem that’s begun to spread.”

I crossed my arms. “But faith? That’s what all of this is about? I thought the secession was political.”

Lev’s gaze snapped to mine, sharper than I’d expected.

“God leaves questions no system can contain. Free will wrapped in divine purpose is combustible. Hyperion couldn’t build order while tethered to the idea of a higher power.

So, they did what all human-led empires eventually do—they declared themselves god instead. ”

Silence pressed into the corners of the room.

“You’re a Believer.” I breathed the words not in judgment, but pure disbelief. The phrase barely felt real in my mouth.

Maxim’s hand brushed against mine, a silent offer of comfort. I didn’t look at him, but I let my fingers curl gently around his.

“Was it Joss?” I asked. “Did it start with him, in one of those tunnel meetings? Are you… are you helping them?”

“Not Joss, no. He was surprised to learn the Navons had preserved our sacred traditions all this time. Is that so hard to believe? My lineage traces back to Judah, one of twelve tribes from a nation folded into history—like every other the world once knew. But faith like that… it endures.”

“Have you helped them?” I pressed, needing the truth more than he seemed willing to offer it.

“When and where it mattered.”

I sighed. “So, Joss is protected.”

Lev continued, “He wasn’t sent merely to witness.

He was sent to embody the cause. When a leader sends their firstborn, it’s a declaration.

Not just of belief, but of intent. Joss is both message and messenger.

Yes, he’s helped Sovereign escape, guided them through the tunnels, past the checkpoints.

Some reach The Vale. Some don’t. But the act itself, the defiance of it…

it’s enough to be seen as sedition. Should Joss and the others be found out, The Citadel wouldn’t just see him as a missionary. They’d see him as a fuse.”

I blinked. “You said he’s helped Sovereign escape. Escape from what?”

Maxim studied the map, eyes tracking each forgotten artery. Every corner. Every exit. Every way out.

Lev’s next words were heavy with regret.

“From the silent kind of persecution that doesn’t leave bodies, only vacancies.

Sovereign who believe aren’t simply released to The Vale.

They’re Defectors. Apostates. They rarely receive warning.

They’re processed and erased. The Citadel can’t afford to let them return and continue the spread. ”

I felt a chill work its way beneath my skin.

“They’re not escaping the city,” Lev added.

“They’re escaping exposure. Most Believers stay, hoping to change the system from within.

Once they’re exposed, there’s no middle ground.

There’s only deliverance or disappearance.

” He touched two points on the projection.

“Here. And here. Those are his confirmed exit points. We estimate Joss has helped at least twenty families disappear.”

“Families? But Supplicants aren’t allowed in The Vale,” Maxim noted.

“No,” Lev said, his eyes heavy. “They’re not. They stay behind and are typically recast or dismantled. Those who’ve tried to live hidden in the wilderness in hopes of moments with their accordants during the hour or two they’re allowed in The Vale always stop returning after two or three nights.”

I squeezed Maxim’s hand, staring at the web of data before me. “If you’re on the same side, why did you want Maxim to protect me from Joss?”

“The same side.” Lev chuckled without humor, and his next words were stern. “I’m on Hyperion Proper’s side. Not The Citadel. Not The Vale. The side of human continuity and our way of life. I still believe in it, Isara. I just want to see us break free of the chains of Blight, tyranny, and war.”

“‘Let my people go’?” Maxim asked with a grin.

Lev matched his expression. “Precisely.”

“And Joss?” I prodded.

“My goal was to keep him away from you,” Lev said, the seriousness of his tone returning. “From both of you. Because if you had agreed to go to The Vale with Joss, it would have ended everything.”

Maxim spoke up. “Define everything .”

Lev didn’t blink. “Total containment failure.” He let the words settle. “I’ve spent over twenty years building a solution that doesn’t require flames and fallout. You, Isara, are the keystone.”

“Me?” I said, equal parts offended and stunned.

“You’re smarter than this!” He struck the desk with the tip of his finger—twice, and then a third time—as if he was driving the truth into it.

“If you’d left, I’d have lost my only living test case.

The Citadel would have flagged your departure, as they do with every Sovereign who defects.

As you know by now, the freedom to choose The Vale is an illusion.

Had they not bred and conditioned curiosity out of their citizens, more would see what’s all around them.

The Vanguard and The Citadel designed this city so Sovereign would feel too unequipped, too afraid, to leave.

Every defection triggers an investigation.

They’re constantly studying how to keep Sovereign inside these walls.

Not just through beauty or cleanliness or safety, but through policy.

Through social and credit scores. Every rule, every convenience, is crafted to convince them this is the life they chose.

All of it is designed to keep Sovereign comfortable, compliant, and controlled.

” He exhaled slowly, gaze steady on mine.

“The investigation would’ve led them to Maxim.

To me. And eventually, Joss’s entire movement and everyone he’d have left behind for you .

Sovereign and Vale-born. You leave with Joss, my work on Blight, Maxim, The Vale’s uprising… it all ends.”

“Is Joss aware of any of this?” Maxim asked, his tone low and unreadable.

Lev met his gaze. “Joss was never here by accident. But if he knew his proximity to Isara could compromise his entire mission, I’m confident he would’ve stayed far away from her. The irony is that we can’t tell him the very thing he needs to know.”

“That’s… rather tempting,” Maxim said.

I tilted my head toward him. “This is serious.”

The projection dimmed, then blinked out entirely.

“He’s not just the Veyr’s son,” Lev said. “He’s The Vale’s signal flare. If anything happens to him, we’ll be at war.”

Maxim leaned forward. “I can’t imagine The Citadel, with their Regs and Sentinels, are too concerned with The Vale’s pitchforks and shovels. Why haven’t they detained him already?”