Chapter 118: Mother
Nestled at the very heart of the continent, Anthrapokentron, which literally meant "the Heart of Humanity," was far more than a mere place.
It embodied a promise: as long as it stood, humanity would never be defeated.
As vast as a city, Anthrapokentron had served as the headquarters of the Order for three centuries, remaining both one of its most powerful symbols and the repository where the secrets of humanity lay dormant.
The city was encircled by an immense circular wall, a colossal wooden palisade forming a perfect ring.
Seen from the sky, Anthrapokentron resembled a monumental hoop from which several railway networks radiated outward, linking the heart of the Order to every nation in the world.
The city was divided into five distinct zones, each under the authority of a bureau, all converging toward a central nexus.
At its core stood two major edifices: the Supreme Council Hall, where the Absolutes convened, and the Regent’s Castle, the true pivot of power.
The place possessed a singularity that made it unique in the world. Anthrapokentron was built entirely of wood.
From the castle to the watchtowers, from administrative buildings to suspended walkways, every structure was shaped from this material.
On this solemn day, the city welcomed within its walls the new enforcers, summoned to be officially decorated.
---
The Regent’s Castle loomed over everything, colossal, as vast as an entire district.
Facing it, several hundred candidates were assembled. They stood in five blocks, each corresponding to a bureau.
The atmosphere was heavy, steeped in an almost religious silence, worthy of the greatest military ceremonies.
Numerous enforcers supervised the new recruits, watching over every detail.
Not a murmur, not a whisper disturbed the established order, as though any breach of discipline were inconceivable in this place.
All eyes were fixed on the castle.
On the fifth floor, a vast belvedere terrace, richly adorned, faced the assembly.
At its center stood a monumental double door, still closed.
Sirius stood in the front row, clad in a black mantle beside the ten other prodigies.
When the final preparations were complete, the signal was given.
Music rose.
An orchestra began the ceremony, trumpets tearing through the silence with an almost crushing solemnity.
("This music... it goes straight to the heart. Is this resonance?")
Sirius felt his heart quicken, caught between anticipation and tension.
Then, slowly, the double doors of the terrace opened.
A solemn voice rang out.
"His Eminence Gramm Sigmund, Director of the Bureau of Archives and Exploration."
The candidates immediately straightened, backs perfectly rigid. Gramm’s display of power was still vivid in everyone’s memory.
Against all expectations, he delivered no speech.
He merely stepped forward, then took position at the far right of the doorway, motionless.
The voice rang out again.
"Her Eminence Sarah Harley, Deputy Director of the Bureau of Internal Affairs."
She entered and took her place in turn, on the opposite side of the door.
Sirius felt his breath catch.
("She must be laughing inside... pretending all this time to be just a simple secretary.")
Then came the next announcement.
"His Eminence Rioken, Director of the Bureau of Internal Affairs."
Gradually, the truth became clear.
All those being announced were either directors or deputy directors.
And each positioned themselves so as to frame the door.
("This position...") Sirius thought. ("There’s someone higher than a director presiding over this ceremony.")
The tension rose another notch.
("There’s no doubt anymore," Sirius thought.)
("The master of ceremonies is someone far above a director. But an Absolute? Impossible... no Absolute would come in person for mere recruits. So who, if not an Absolute, could force directors to show such respect?")
A past conversation with Sarah resurfaced in his mind, and a single name emerged.
"His Eminence Marshal Bucharest, Director of the Bureau of Military Affairs."
A gigantic man appeared. Bald, bearded, with a massive belly despite standing well over two meters tall, he imposed himself through presence alone.
His build alone could have cast doubt on the fact that he was a Transcendent, even drawing laughter from a few.
Instead, the opposite happened.
An overwhelming pressure crashed down upon the assembly.
All of them, without exception, were forced to drop to one knee, heads bowed.
Sirius took a moment to understand.
("This pressure... it’s coming from him.")
He tried to rise. The force intensified.
When he relaxed, it diminished.
("He’s adjusting the pressure with terrifying precision... enough to keep us kneeling, without injuring us. And he does it as easily as breathing.")
A conviction took root in Sirius: none of the directors present were weaker than Gramm had shown himself to be.
("Each of them possesses power enough to reduce a duchy without much effort.")
For the first time in his life, Sirius could not imagine assassinating someone.
Yet despite this imposing entrance, the Marshal simply took position on the other side of the door, completing the honor guard.
At that moment, Sirius doubted that there could exist anyone, let alone an ordinary human for whom the directors would bow.
Unable to wait any longer to see this fabled Regent.
He did not have to wait.
The music ceased abruptly, giving way to an absolute silence heavy with expectation.
His head still lowered, Sirius first heard only the announcement, clear and solemn:
"Her Grace Diane Homo Nova, Regent of the Order."
A leaden silence followed, pushing the tension to its peak, before she spoke in a clear, soothing voice that nevertheless seemed to reach even the last of the candidates.
"Rise."
At once, the pressure exerted by the Marshal vanished like snow under the sun.
When Sirius finally raised his eyes, a shock ran through him from head to toe.
He saw a woman, about twenty-five years old, of breathtaking beauty, with features of regal delicacy, dressed in a long golden gown.
Magnificent violet locks crowned her face, and her purple eyes radiated an unmatched majesty.
Yet it was not her beauty that struck him, but a memory , an acknowledgment more painful than a dagger plunged into his chest.
("No... No, that’s impossible.")
A violent vertigo seized him.
Almost reflexively, he turned his head slightly toward Iris, praying he was mistaken. But his sister was just as pale and frozen as he was.
Their eyes met, and the same irrational terror was reflected in them.
For the first time, neither of them managed to hide their emotions.
Their shock was there, raw, etched onto their faces.
Fortunately for them, everyone’s attention remained fixed on the Regent.
Only Lucy noticed their profound distress and showed a trace of it herself, casting worried glances between her friends and the stage.
The rest of the ceremony passed for Sirius like a feverish dream.
What was said, what was done everything escaped him, drowned in the deafening turmoil of his thoughts.
He merely followed the flow, without truly being present.
That evening, he found himself in a room without knowing how, his mind still clouded, the same question looping endlessly.
Seated on the edge of his bed, shoulders heavy, he murmured into the silence:
"This can’t be. She doesn’t look thirty. Sixteen minus thirty makes fourteen... it’s mathematically impossible. There must be an explanation a coincidental resemblance, a decoy... but this goes beyond mere appearance. My whole body, my heart, everything in me reacts, recognizes her. It’s insane."
So absorbed was he in his spiral of doubt that he failed to notice the door opening softly.
Iris entered, bearing on her face the same silent upheaval, the same inner struggle.
It was only when she spoke, in a voice so faint it was almost a breath, that he lifted his eyes to her.
"Tell me it’s a mirage, that I’m dreaming, Sirius. Tell me she isn’t who I think she is."
He stared at her for a long moment, his own turmoil reflected in her eyes.
He slowly shook his head, helplessness coloring the gesture.
"There has to be a mistake... but I can’t find it. I’m going in circles."
Iris’s face crumpled slightly, disappointed not to hear the denial she so desperately hoped for.
She leaned back against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor, clutching the scarf on her head like an anchor in the storm of her emotions.
A silence settled between the twins.
Broken only by Lucy’s arrival.
She observed them for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking from one to the other.
"What’s wrong with you? That Regent... she looks exactly like Iris. And you were completely absent throughout the ceremony."
Sirius took his time, searching for the strength to utter the words they feared most.
"Lucy, the Regent is our mmm—"
He couldn’t finish the word.
Iris did.
"Mother."
A long silence followed before Lucy could not help but shout:
"What?!"
