Pietà, City of the Mothers of Ceres — Chapter 8 Part 4 Final

That night, while the soft lights of the dormitory
bathed the room in pastel tones,
Kat dreamed of the lake in absolute silence.
No trains. No machines.
Only the void.

And she woke with a cold sensation in her stomach,
as if Ceres' melody were about to miss a note.

The Light

Kat remained in the maternity ward,
watching the glass crib where the baby girl slept.
Her eyes closed and her calm breathing
made it seem as though no sin in the world had ever touched her.

Kat thought of Mãe Ceres,
of the promise that all children were Her children,
and whispered to herself:

— Mãe Ceres never fails… She abandons no one.

In the room next door, Aria lay with her back to the door,
her long hair spread across the pillow,
crying in silence.

The doctors monitored her depression levels,
writing numbers down on white clipboards.
There was a technical sadness in the air,
as if suffering had a protocol of its own.

Some mothers disapproved in silence:

— How can she not want to see her daughter?

Others looked at her with compassion:

— Perhaps it is better this way… for now.

In Pietà, maternal perfection and natural instinct
did not always meet.

Kat stood before the glass crib,
her face almost touching the cold surface.
Inside, the newborn girl slept,
her tiny fingers curled shut
as though they were holding her own destiny.

She was perfect.

So innocent and untouched
that it seemed impossible to believe
that this same life
had destroyed her mother's.

Kat's heart tightened with conflict.

Part of her felt a silent anger,
wanted to scream against the injustice of Pietà,
against the fact that Aria
had been forced to carry this pain.

But the other part—
the one that had grown up hearing the mantra—
knew that Mãe Ceres never abandons Her children.

Kat thought of the other countries,
where she had heard that children
were abandoned in the streets,
women suffered alone,
and even the State turned its face away.

She whispered, almost without realizing it:

— Here… at least… no one is left alone.

Even through silent tears,
Kat bowed slightly before the crib,
as if offering a small reverence to life.

Then she closed her eyes and repeated the mantra,
as though trying to ease a guilt that was not hers:

— Mãe Ceres, who feeds us, educates us… and devours us.

The echo of the mantra seemed to mingle
with the distant beeping of the medical monitors,
reminding Kat that, in Ceres,
even pain was monitored and embraced.

The days in Pietà continued as always,
with the scent of flowers and mother's milk in the air,
the nurses smiling,
and the routine examinations ensuring
that everything remained under Mãe Ceres' control.

Kat woke to the familiar sound of the water pumps
and the distant hum of the armored trains.

It seemed like another perfect day.

But as she turned the corner of the maternity ward,
she heard a sharp scream—
a sound that did not belong in paradise.

She ran, her heart pounding.

When she entered Aria's room,
Kat's world stopped.

Aria was hanging by her neck.

The colorful scarf,
made by the loving hands of so many mothers,
was now a silent rope of farewell.

Aria's long hair partially covered her face,
and the pastel light of the room seemed to mock the scene,
as though Pietà's perfection
could not hide the tragedy
that had germinated inside her womb.

Kat stood frozen,
feeling the room's soft scent
mingled with the bitter taste of fear.

The nurses entered moments later.

One of them collapsed into tears.
Others maintained their cold professionalism,
but even their eyes were wet.

On the floor, beside the painting easel,
an unfinished painting of Mãe Ceres
breathed silence,
like a divine and motionless gaze
upon human weakness.

Kat felt a pain burning inside her—
a mixture of anger, sorrow, and devotion.

She wanted to blame the entire world,
but all she could do was whisper to herself:

— Mãe Ceres… who feeds us… educates us… and devours us.

In that moment, for the first time,
Kat felt that the machines of Ceres
were rumbling too far away—
as though the music of survival
were incapable of drowning out the sound
of Aria's death.

The days in Pietà continued as always:
with the scent of flowers and mother's milk in the air,
the nurses smiling,
and routine examinations ensuring
that everything remained under Mãe Ceres' control.

Kat woke to the familiar sound of the water pumps
and the distant hum of the armored trains.

It seemed like another perfect day.

But as she turned the corner of the maternity ward,
she heard a sharp scream—
a sound that did not belong in paradise.

She ran, her heart pounding.

When she entered Aria's room,
Kat's world stopped.

Aria was hanging by her neck.

The colorful scarf,
made by the loving hands of so many mothers,
was now a silent rope of farewell.

Her long hair partially covered her face,
and the pastel light of the room
seemed to mock the scene—
as though Pietà's perfection
could not hide
the tragedy that had germinated inside her womb.

Kat stood frozen,
feeling the room's sweet scent
mingled with the bitter taste of fear.

The nurses arrived moments later.

One of them collapsed into tears.
Others maintained their cold professionalism,
but even their eyes were wet.

On the floor, beside the painting easel,
an unfinished painting of Mãe Ceres
breathed silence—
a divine and motionless gaze
upon human weakness.

Kat felt a pain burning inside her,
a mixture of anger, sorrow, and devotion.

She wanted to blame the entire world,
but all she could do was whisper:

— Mãe Ceres… who feeds us… educates us… and devours us.

In that moment, for the first time,
Kat felt that the machines of Ceres were rumbling too far away—
as though the music of survival
could not drown out the sound of Aria's death.

Night fell over Pietà
with a silence too heavy for the air.

The soft lights of the park
illuminated the two endless rows of mothers—
one to the right, one to the left—
more than ten thousand women
with tear-filled eyes
and bellies of every size,
from the discreet curves of one month
to the majestic fullness of nine.

At the center, upon a platform of black marble,
Aria's body lay exposed,
covered only by a translucent white veil.

Her hair fell like a melancholy waterfall,
and the scarf rested folded beside her—
a mute symbol of love and tragedy.

Kat stood in the left-hand row,
her trembling hands resting over her still-discreet belly,
feeling the weight of life and death at once.

The mantra echoed softly among the mothers,
as though they were all praying and weeping together:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us.

Then Her presence filled the park.

Mãe Ceres appeared like a living vision:
the flowing white dress dragging across the ground,
the crown of iridescent crystals emitting an almost celestial glow,
and the black, silent oval mask
reflecting the lights and the desperate faces.

She did not need to speak to command the world in that moment.

But after several seconds of absolute silence,
Her voice echoed—
deep and clear—
as though it came from the very womb of the city:

— My daughters…

The echo of the word traveled through Pietà
as though each mother had been touched individually.

— Today, our perfect home has felt the pain of loss.
Today, one of us surrendered to the shadow of sorrow.

A collective shiver passed through the rows.

Kat felt the tears burning down her face,
but did not dare wipe them away.

— I do not blame Aria.
Pain is sometimes greater than flesh. Greater than duty.
But know this…

Mãe Ceres raised Her arms,
and the black mask reflected the moon.

— Not even her death will stop the machine of life.
Ceres continues.
We continue.

The mantra exploded in unison,
like a devoted, grieving roar:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us!

And in that moment,
Kat felt something inside her breaking—
and strengthening—at the same time.

Mãe Ceres floated down the corridor formed by the mothers,
Her feet never touching the ground.

The flowing white dress looked like a liquid dawn,
and the crown of iridescent crystals
released subtle sounds,
like celestial bells that only the heart could hear.

Kat held her breath when she realized
that behind the black oval mask,
silent tears were running down.

It was as though Mãe Ceres' own face
were weeping for all of them.

Then the entire park descended into hysteria:
a chorus of weeping and sobbing
that echoed through the mountains surrounding Pietà,
as though even nature understood the mourning.

At the center of the park,
upon an altar of black marble,
Aria's body lay clean,
surrounded by fresh flowers
and illuminated by the celestial chandelier
of Pietà's artificial sky,
where the moon seemed to watch
in absolute silence.

Mãe Ceres approached the body
with sacred slowness.

The flowers released a sweet perfume,
mingling with the scent of milk and night dew.

As She extended Her gloved hands over Aria,
all the mothers fell silent,
as though the world had stopped
to hear a miracle.

— My daughter Aria… — said Mãe Ceres, Her voice breaking.
— You carried a burden that not even the gods could bear.
Today, Pietà weeps… and I weep with you.

She touched Aria's chest gently,
and a tear fell upon the white veil,
like the signature of a final blessing.

The chorus of mothers erupted in tears.

Kat, among them, screamed and sobbed
as though she were surrendering her own soul.

And Mãe Ceres concluded,
with the authority of a living divinity:

— Even in death, you feed Ceres.
Even in pain, you will be eternal.

The mantra echoed with brutal force,
turning mourning into devotion:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us!

Kat's legs weakened.

In that moment, she believed she was standing before something greater than life and death:

a mother who wept… and devoured at the same time.

Mãe Ceres raised Her slender arms,
the white gloves reflecting the moonlight,
and Her voice cut through the silence of the park
like a blade—and an embrace:

— My daughters… today we bear witness to great sorrow.
One of us has taken her own life.
It is not too much to ask that we love the children we bring into the world…
The child is not to blame.

A collective murmur echoed,
and Kat felt her chest explode with emotion… and guilt.

— The wretch who did this to Aria
was already reaped by our justice, long before the pregnancy.
She gave life… and she could have given more.
I do not blame her for being unable to endure.

Tears fell beneath the black mask,
and all the mothers descended into hysteria,
weeping with devotion and pain.

The mantra rose in waves through the park:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us!

Mãe Ceres continued,
Her voice now thunder and consolation:

— There are good men… and men without character.
Every man is born female.
In the embryo, we are all equal.
Therefore, there is no need for nipples.
All emerge as females.

Some mothers laughed through their tears.

Others nodded in agreement,
as though they were hearing an absolute truth.

— In any government there are bad men.
But ours eliminates rapists and men who beat women.
Every woman is a future mother…
and that is sacred.

Aria's body, wrapped in flowers,
seemed to breathe along with the city.

Then a nurse appeared,
carrying the rejected baby—
the fruit of trauma.

Mãe Ceres received the child gently,
and for a moment, silence dominated Pietà.

The baby was calm.

Then… it began to cry.

Mãe Ceres raised the child and proclaimed,
with hatred and praise intertwined:

— We, the women of Ceres, perform miracles that no god dares to perform!
Because, if gods exist, today they die of shame.
We perform the miracle of life!

A chosen woman appeared in white garments,
her full breasts spilling milk.

Mãe Ceres handed her the child,
who latched onto the breast—
and silenced hunger.

Raising Her mask toward the sky, Mãe Ceres cried out:

— And the other miracle… is killing hunger!
Where are the gods now, to feed this rejected child?
Where is the other State?
Anyone?

A heavy silence fell,
broken only by the sound of the baby nursing.

— No one.
Only we, the women of Ceres, perform the greatest miracle:
creating life… and killing hunger!

The mothers stopped crying
and began to praise with the mantra
that shook the mountains:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us!

Kat was in ecstasy,
her heart ablaze,
knowing she would never forget that night.

When the mantra fell silent,
Mãe Ceres made a serene gesture with Her hand,
and two Silenciadoras appeared beside the altar.

They lifted Aria's body
with sacred reverence,
as though they were carrying a relic.

The procession moved through the park,
between rows of kneeling mothers,
who touched the ground and murmured the mantra,
while flowers fell upon the body
like fragrant rain.

At the heart of Pietà's garden
stood the Return Machine:

a black steel cylinder,
with tubes and amber-glass chambers
that glowed in the moonlight.

There, every mother who departed
was transformed into nourishment
for paradise itself.

Mãe Ceres placed a white-gloved hand upon the cylinder:

— My daughter Aria now returns to the womb of Mãe Ceres.
From ash to root, from root to flower…
The life she gave will never be in vain.

Aria's body was placed inside the chamber,
and a pale smoke began to rise through the central tube,
carrying the scent of flowers and flesh
into the dark sky of Ceres.

Minutes later,
a black, gleaming compound fell softly
into the sacred garden bed,
where hundreds of edible flowers already grew,
nourished by generations of mothers.

Kat, in silent tears,
watched Aria's ashes mingle with the soil
and felt a shiver of eternity:

Aria no longer existed as a woman,
but now lived in every flower,
every fruit,
every leaf of Pietà.

Mãe Ceres opened Her arms to the sky:

— Just as hunger dies, life is reborn!
This is Pietà, this is Ceres, this is who we are!

The mantra echoed one final time,
like a prayer—and a threat—to the entire world:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us!

When the mantra faded,
Kat remained kneeling,
her hands dirty with warm soil,
with the scent of Aria's ashes mingling with the perfume of flowers.

The garden pulsed.

Every petal seemed to breathe with her,
as though the womb of the world had knocked at her door.

It was the eloquence of the eternal womb,
where life and death were not opposites,
but the same word spoken by Mãe Ceres.

Milk from another mother still ran
from the corner of the rejected baby's mouth,
silencing the most primitive hunger.

Kat felt her own womb respond—
a deep, moist warmth,
as though Mãe Ceres had touched her soul
through the invisible umbilical cord of motherhood.

She wept in silence.

Not from sadness,
but from a devotion that burned and caressed at the same time.

It was as though the entire world could fit inside her womb,
and every tear fell upon the earth like an invisible seed.

Kat embraced the ground where Aria's ashes had been placed
and whispered the mantra like a prayer of gestation:

— Mãe Ceres who feeds us, educates us… and devours us…

In that instant,
she understood her role in the great machinery of the collective womb:

she was not merely a girl,
she was not merely a future mother.

She was a link in the umbilical cord
that bound all of Ceres together.

She felt pregnant with the city itself,
with the sky, the mountains, the machines.

As though the entire country could fit inside her womb,
and everything that existed breathed with her.

The night wind passed between the park's chandeliers
and made the crystals of Mãe Ceres' crown sing—
a celestial, uterine sound
that said, without words:

— Now you are my daughter forever.

Kat smiled through her tears,
knowing that this paradise of milk, earth, and blood
was the heaven and hell
that every woman in Ceres carried within her womb.

In the days that followed,
life in Pietà resumed the exact rhythm of the machines.

The armored trains once again echoed through the mountains,
the water pumps pulsed like iron hearts,
and the city's constant noise
was a reminder that the world could not stop.

Kat walked through the gardens where Aria now lived in silence,
and felt every flower like a gaze.

The soft petals were witnesses
to everything Ceres demanded:

sacrifice, milk, blood, and love.

In her thoughts,
Kat began speaking to herself,
as though giving her first testimony
to the history of Ceres:

Being a mother in Ceres is not merely giving birth to a child.
It is being a vessel in which the world can fit.
It is opening body and soul,
so that hunger never returns.
Being a mother here is being the very machinery of the city.

When Mãe Ceres looked at me, I understood.
It is not about freedom.
It is about survival.
And survival is sweeter
than any promised paradise.

Whoever defeats us… will defeat us by loving hunger and misery.
But I… I am a daughter of Pietà.
I feed and educate.
And when my time comes…
I too will be devoured.

She took a deep breath,
feeling the scent of earth mingling with the mother's milk
that perfumed the air of Pietà.

A nurse passed by with another baby in her arms,
smiling—
and Kat felt her womb pulse.

It was not fear, nor sadness.

It was the uterine certainty
that she was part of something greater.

Being Mãe Ceres was not a title.

It was a state of mind—and of body.

A living liturgy.

It was feeling herself, at once,
mother, daughter, and earth.

And Kat understood, with a dangerous serenity,
that she would never be able to separate herself from Pietà.

In the silence between one mantra and the next,
she smiled to herself,
touched her belly tenderly,
and whispered:

— I am already Mãe Ceres.