“An Eye in the Shadow”
After the arrival of the Silencers and Amós, the case was closed with terrifying efficiency.
The animal had been found, dismantled like a dark work of art, and taken away.
Both the dog and Dark were taken aboard the armored train toward the center of Ceres.
No one dared ask what happened there.
No one came back from there.
The atmosphere was dense as lead smoke.
Theo, now decorated with the Medal of Honor, felt the weight of the metal more like a shackle than recognition.
The leadership that once pulsed through his muscles now bled in silence.
It was as if, each day, his soul were being replaced with lead — without anesthesia.
In the corridors, the looks cut.
Cors, curtly:
— Failure.
Vanks, bitterly:
— Snitch.
Consequences never fall on those who deserve them, but on those who are easiest to blame.
Dark hadn't warned anyone about the dogs — and still, Theo became the villain.
Ceres watches him in the cafeteria.
She says nothing.
No one does.
But her eyes speak:
“Let your mind accept what your heart already knows.”
But Mãe Ceres taught something else:
“Greater than love... is fear.”
And fear reigns.
Among the clatter of utensils and whispers, only one face carries a smile — Tycho, his brother.
Without ceremony, he sits beside Theo and hands him an old cassette player, the tape already inside.
He whispers:
— Listen to this when no one is around... Welcome to the Darkness / The Brilliance.
Theo doesn't understand.
Tycho continues, as if speaking of an ancient ritual of war:
— Soldiers who fought on the dark trains... before entering, they covered one of their eyes.
In the light, the other one could see.
But in the darkness, the protected eye could see everything.
And it won.
Understand?
Theo remains silent.
Tycho smiles, in silent complicity:
— Do the same.
Theo takes a deep breath.
For the first time in days, he smiles.
He sees his brother growing, transforming — just as he himself once did.
Now Theo is in the shadows.
And everyone judging him is standing in the light.
They cannot see anything that happened inside.
But he can.
“Cora's Prayer”
After the Silencers cleared the field, only traces of dried blood remained on the earth.
The wind carried away the smell of death, but the emptiness remained.
Cora returned to the flower field where the surviving animals still wandered, wary and silent.
When they saw her, they approached.
They nestled against her.
She crouched down, took small pieces of bread from her pocket, and offered them — one at a time.
It was a reddish late afternoon, like her eyes.
Cora smiled sadly.
A joyful melancholy, like someone who knows she has lost... but still has someone to go on for.
The animals felt her energy.
She didn't need to speak — it was as if they were thinking together.
To honor those who were gone, Cora planted small stakes in the ground.
She made every one of them in the shape of an M, for Mãe.
Each one bearing a funny name for one of the animals she cared for:
— Bananinha, Trapo, Abobrinha, Triscavinho, Mordiscudo, Catapimba...
To name was to make eternal.
Cora knelt.
She looked toward the tower and closed her eyes.
The silence of the field was absolute, as if even the air were listening.
She began to pray.
Her voice came out trembling, like someone speaking to something real.
And it was real to her.
— Mãe Ceres...
Forgive the rabid dog.
Someone must have hurt him...
The poor thing didn't even get to eat your food.
Because in Ceres, no dog, cat, or rat dies of hunger on your land...
(Sobs.)
— Forgive Theo too.
He has a good heart... he was the only one who helped me.
(Sobs.)
— I love you so much, my Mãe Ceres.
I know I have to be strong to fight at your side... to protect you...
(And now her voice falters, choking.)
— ...you know why?
(A wet, childlike, exhausted smile.)
— Because I can see you.
I see you.
How good it is to always see you...
— I am so grateful, Mãe.
My little animals who are still alive... are here with me.
She embraces two of them.
One gives a soft growl, the other licks her hand affectionately.
— Mãe Ceres, who feeds us, who educates us... and devours us.
Cora sobs.
But remains kneeling.
Firm.
Strong.
Like a root that, even while bleeding, still blooms.
THE VOICE OF CERES
(musical background: Danièle Licari – Concerto pour une Voix)
“Citizens and Children of Mãe Ceres...
We inform you that, this morning, the executions of individuals 3B9X, 4K1T, 7D2L, and 2R8P took place in Squares A and C, in accordance with Ordinance No. 7229 of the High Administration.
The city's security remains unshaken.
Earlier this morning, we also received an official visit from Diplomat Lawyer Amós 6F7C, on a protocol investigation mission.
We confirm that the animal found in the vicinity of the School was a rabid dog in its terminal stage, weakened by advanced age and neurological failure.
One of the students demonstrated bravery and responsibility by preventing a possible disaster within the school premises.
There is no reason for concern.
Mãe Ceres continues to watch over each and every one of you.
Mãe Ceres feeds us, educates us...
...and devours us.”
(Soft static. End of transmission.)
Between Light and Lead
The week passed in the darkness where Theo now lived.
Between light — and shadow.
One eye grew accustomed to the brightness, while the other remained closed, preserving its night vision.
It was a silent penance, or perhaps... the beginning of a transformation.
Mãe Ceres injects lead.
Not all at once — but little by little, like someone assembling a new toy from used parts.
She replaces her children's feelings with cold metal, without anesthesia.
An adolescent being honed for war.
Cora, once made of sweetness and laughter, now begins exchanging her innocence for the bitter taste of lead.
Tycho, deceived by Dru, found himself forced to evolve — but cancer evolves too.
They both grow.
They both hurt.
Mãe Ceres does not teach through defeat.
She settles inside it.
It is in the moment of falling, of crying, of failure... that lead finds room.
It is when the heart cracks that she plants her seed.
Hatred is the purest force we know.
It needs no logic.
It burns.
And destroys.
Mãe Ceres knows this — she manipulates desires with the tools men hide inside their chests:
Envy.
Resentment.
Anger.
Pain.
Nothing must be wasted.
No human force is useless.
She recycles everything.
She feeds.
She educates.
And she devours.
Ceres watches him from afar.
Theo is alone.
He chews his food as if it were molten lead.
On the tray, the food looks harmless.
But every bite weighs.
It weighs like guilt, like memory, like the name of a friend over the execution loudspeaker:
Gene.
Today is the day.
And Theo's pain is not for the loss itself.
It is because he was the one who handed him over.
Even though the system rewarded his actions, even though the Medal of Honor shines on his chest like a golden condemnation.
Ceres watches him — and does not see only a boy.
She sees the abyss growing in silence.
Theo killed a dog.
Brutally.
And what frightens Ceres is that he did not hesitate.
But she saw.
She saw what the others could not.
The dog was not a dog.
It was not of this world.
It was something beyond flesh, something too twisted to live.
But the decision, the act — that was human.
Far too human.
Across the cafeteria, Cors stares at him.
Points a finger, as if saying:
“You are mine.”
It's personal.
A hunt.
Vanks merely shakes his head.
Silent disapproval.
As if saying:
“It doesn't matter what they did to you.
You still chose.”
Kan watches everything in silence.
He knows Theo is in a private hell.
The one no one sees.
The one that burns only inside.
Theo's medal weighs more than his entire uniform.
It is as if he carries Ceres' own hell inside it.
Dark remains in detention.
For him, it's Tuesday.
It's not the first time, and everyone assumes it will be another forgotten punishment.
But no one knows the reason for this one.
No one knows that he is changing too.
Today, however, is combat day.
Simulation field.
The contest between leaders.
Men against women.
Pointless violence disguised as entertainment.
A simulation that teaches them to hurt and smile at the same time.
And Theo will have to choose — fight as a leader or sink like dead weight.
But lead, when it accumulates, drags even the strongest down.
Blood Friday
It was Friday.
A day of fights for leadership.
The day when Mãe Ceres demanded blood to know who was still worthy of sitting among the first.
Theo woke before the siren sounded.
His stomach churning, his hands cold.
In his head, the voice of the Spark, mocking:
— You know what you're going to do, don't you?
You're going to betray me too.
Yes.
Before breakfast, Theo had already climbed to the Internal Guard's counter to whisper Gene's name, like someone confessing a sin and trying to escape hell.
“He's the one who writes the blasphemies.”
“He's the one who profanes Mãe.”
And he didn't have the courage to look back when two men in black glass entered the cafeteria and dragged Gene away by the collar.
Gene didn't even scream.
Didn't fight.
He simply looked at Theo with disbelieving eyes, trying to understand — why?
Theo looked away, afraid of losing everything:
His name.
His brother.
And... Ceres.
—
That morning, the fighting field was packed.
Groups separated by hierarchy and age, the ground already marked with chalk to define the arenas.
It was the day of the men's confrontation for squad leadership against Cors — a brute with a jackal's smile — and among the women, the long-awaited fight between Ana and Ceres.
Ana was already there, immaculate.
Perfect fringe across her forehead, uniform aligned, icy smile.
Inside, a storm:
the desire to see Ceres stumble, break her neck, cry in front of everyone.
Because Ana liked Daime.
She didn't like admitting it, but she had liked him before the accident, when together they had been the school's golden couple.
And then, when Daime became confined to a wheelchair, she abandoned him — because he no longer shone like before.
And then came Ceres.
Ceres, who occupied her territory like someone sitting by the bus window without asking permission.
Ceres, who never wavered, who even seemed to pity Ana, with a certain mocking edge.
Ana clenched her fists.
Ceres smiled at her, impassive, as if saying:
“Come.
Prove you're better.”
—
From a distance, Theo watched, but he felt no pride.
He tasted bile in his throat.
The Spark's silence was now heavier than its whispers.
He could already imagine Gene, shackled, being taken to the excommunication walls, the glass mask staring at him in judgment.
He felt dirty.
A coward.
But still... he said nothing.
He couldn't lose.
He couldn't be the one in Gene's place.
And on the fighting field, Ana and Ceres faced each other, eyes sparking.
One hated.
The other, inside, was as lonely as she was victorious.
And the entire school — as always — watched.
Cheering for blood.
For glory.
For Mãe Ceres.
The commander walked across the field with his hands behind his back.
The smell in the air was nauseating: sweat, tears, fear, and hatred mixed with dust from the ground.
He inhaled deeply and said, as if speaking to no one:
— I can smell them.
I can smell the blood coming.
The rows of teenagers fell silent at the sound of the siren.
It was time.
First combat:
Theo against Cors.
And there, in that arena, Theo no longer looked like Theo.
He wasn't just a boy.
He was a beast.
A wild animal possessed by hatred — not only of Cors, but of himself, of everything, of the betrayal he had just committed, of his own cowardice.
Cors charged with his usual cruel smile.
Theo took him down immediately.
Once.
Twice.
As if grinding meat.
Cors tried to retaliate, furious, but Theo's kick struck his temple with a dry crack and knocked him unconscious instantly.
For a moment, everyone fell silent.
Even Ceres took half a step back, feeling Theo's bestial aura radiating through the arena.
He raised his eyes toward her, like a predator searching for another prey.
And Ceres understood.
Without words, Theo seemed to say:
— You're next.
Ceres shuddered.
And accepted.
Then it was Ana against Ceres.
Ceres entered with her hands open, provoking her:
— I don't need anything more than this to finish you.
Ana exploded, attacking with all the anger she had accumulated.
But Ceres was a whirlwind of precision:
two swift blows sent Ana spinning through the air and eating dust.
Ana answered with a precise punch to the stomach, bringing Ceres down to her knees.
A draw.
For a few seconds, the two stared at each other, panting, before launching themselves into one another in a brutal collision.
But Ceres won.
She left Ana on the ground, curled up and trembling with rage, while the others shouted her name.
—
And then came the confrontation everyone had been waiting for:
Theo and Ceres.
The beast against the queen.
Theo was still possessed, but something in his chest already hurt more than the desire to win.
Every cry from the crowd only echoed the memory of Gene being dragged away by the guards.
He wasn't fighting Ceres.
He was fighting himself.
When Ceres advanced, eyes fixed, without fear, Theo didn't even try to stop the kick coming toward his face.
He felt the dry impact.
Felt the cold ground...
And nothing else.
Because the real pain was already burning inside.
Ceres stood over him, victorious, carried on the others' shoulders.
She smiled.
But when she looked at Theo, lying there, she realized — for an instant — that he was not well.
It wasn't the kick that hurt.
It was something deeper.
More corrosive.
Something no one there could see.
Theo slowly stood, emotionless.
Defeat carried no weight.
It didn't hurt.
What was tearing him apart was the name he had given up that morning.
The name of the only one who, perhaps, still believed in him.
Gene.
And now, Ceres could beat him as many times as she wanted.
None of it would erase the feeling that he was already dead inside.
After the Field
The arena slowly emptied, screams echoing, laughter, applause for Ceres.
The crowd loved winners.
No one cared about the defeated.
Theo stayed behind, sitting in a corner, his face still throbbing from the kick.
He tasted iron in his mouth, but it was only blood.
Inside, the taste was different.
A bitter taste he didn't even know how to name.
Ceres passed him, carried on the others' shoulders, crowned with glory and dust, and even she — perhaps only she — saw his eyes.
She saw that inside there was no anger, no envy.
Only a black hole growing larger and larger.
Later, alone on the field, Theo lay on his back on the ground.
The ceiling stared down at him like a silent tribunal.
He took the headphones, the old pair hidden inside his backpack.
He connected them to the forbidden device and turned the dial until he found the track.
And when the dirty guitar came in, tearing through the silence, Theo closed his eyes.
He didn't cry.
He didn't move.
He simply stayed there, letting the music swallow everything, feeling the rough voice scream for him.
He imagined Gene in that cold cell.
Imagined Gene with his crooked glasses, his hands bound behind his back, and the look he would have given the guards, unable to understand anything.
Imagined the moment he discovered who had betrayed him.
Theo swallowed hard.
Felt his breathing grow heavy, his heart beating more slowly.
Yes.
Contagious.
Rotten inside.
That was what he was becoming now — the same beast he had shown on the field.
The same one Ceres had seen in his eyes.
That afternoon was long.
He did not rest.
He played the song on loop, at low volume, like a secret punishment.
And he promised himself:
no one would ever know it was him.
No one.
But inside, he was already burning.
And it was only a matter of time before everything caught fire.