## Chapter 13: The Descent of the Cobalt Sentinels
The first of the Cobalt Sentinels hit the marble floor with a heavy, metallic thud, their boots cracking the polished surface. These were not mere security guards; they were the House of Valois' private paramilitary, outfitted with the latest in kinetic-dampening armor and neural-link communication.
"Lascourine!" Genevieve screamed, her voice cracking as the sirens of the palace's internal security system began to wail. "You think a few leaked files will destroy me? In this city, I *am* the law. You won't leave this building alive!"
Lulan didn't respond. She didn't need to. Her eyes were fixed on Silas, who had already transitioned into a state of lethal focus.
"Gamma Formation," Silas barked.
Instantly, the four children snapped into position around Lulan. It was a tactical diamond, a formation designed for VIP extraction in high-hostility environments. Lucian and Silas took the front, their bodies shielding the younger siblings.
The lead Sentinel raised a high-frequency stun baton, the air around the weapon humming with enough voltage to stop a horse's heart. He lunged at Silas, his movements blurred by the experimental adrenaline-boosters the Valois family had illegally patented.
Silas didn't retreat. He stepped into the strike, his hand catching the Sentinel's wrist with a grip that sounded like grinding stone. With a sharp twist, he redirected the kinetic energy of the guard's own momentum, sending the man crashing into a table of crystal glassware.
"Lucian, clear the flank!" Silas ordered.
Lucian moved like a shadow. He didn't have his father's raw power yet, but he had a surgeon's knowledge of the human body. He ducked under the swing of a second Sentinel, his weighted silk cords lashing out. The cords wrapped around the guard's ankles with a sickening snap of tension. As the guard fell, Lucian struck a precise blow to the **vagus nerve** at the base of the man's neck, plunging him into instant unconsciousness.
"Kael, the doors!" Lulan commanded, her voice steady even as a stray stun-bolt shattered a mirror inches from her head.
"The smart-glass is locked down by an analog deadbolt, Mother!" Kael shouted, his fingers flying across his tablet as he tried to find a backdoor into the palace's physical security system. "I can't hack a piece of iron! We need to bypass the main gate!"
"Bastian, the distraction," Lulan said, her eyes scanning the room for a secondary exit.
Bastian, the diplomat, didn't use force. He grabbed two pressurized canisters of vintage champagne from a nearby ice bucket. Using a small surgical laser he kept hidden in his cufflink, he sliced the seals simultaneously. The sudden release of pressure, combined with the carbonation, created a localized "fog" of alcohol and glass.
"Everyone! The gas! It's a bio-weapon!" Bastian screamed at the top of his lungs, using his practiced public-speaking voice to incite a stampede.
The panicked dignitaries, already terrified by the leaked documents, lost all reason. A wave of a thousand people in silk and tuxedoes surged toward the exits, creating a human wall that even the Cobalt Sentinels couldn't push through.
"Now!" Lulan directed.
The family dove behind the heavy velvet curtains of the main stage, slipping into the service tunnels used by the catering staff. The tunnels were narrow, smelling of damp stone and old wine, but they led directly to the Seine riverbank.
As they ran, the sound of the Sentinels' heavy boots echoed through the vents above them.
"They're tracking our heat signatures," Kael warned, looking at his screen. "The Valois family has thermal satellite access over Paris. We can't stay on the streets."
"We aren't staying on the streets," Lulan said, stopping at a heavy iron grate that overlooked the dark, churning waters of the river. "Silas, tell me the delivery was on time."
Silas checked his encrypted watch. "Three minutes early. It's waiting under the Bridge of Flowers."
Lulan looked at her children. They were breathing hard, their faces flushed with adrenaline, but none of them showed a hint of fear.
"Good," Lulan said, the cold light returning to her eyes. "Genevieve wants to play a game of shadows in her own city. Let's show her that the Lascourines own the darkness.