CHAPTER 42: THE BATTLE OF INVICTUS (6)

Iris stood atop a wall, one of the few spared by the explosion.

She held her faithful violin close, her lifelong companion.

As soon as the bow touched the strings, a first note echoed out. Then, with a rhythmical grace, she moved faster, and the distinct sounds merged into a frenzied melody, plunging every listener into a deep melancholy—a journey through distorted memories.

Seeing the expressions on the listeners’ faces, Carla, while amplifying the effect through her resonance, finally understood the words Iris had once whispered to her:

"You must plant seeds to reap the fruit later."

At that moment, she was the one best placed to understand what all those infected were going through. After all, she had been the third to experience the danger hidden within those beautiful eyes... and the first to endure long enough to grasp, even slightly, the mechanism behind them.

Reflecting on it, Carla drifted into her own memories. One in particular. A night she would never forget.

That night, after assisting Captain Grégoire with injecting the prototype into the body of a young woman named Iris, she had returned, as usual, to the orphanage set up inside Astoria’s town hall.

Since then, every night, she had made it her mission to tell stories to lull to sleep the children who had lost their parents during the Awakening, or whose families were still fighting death in hopes of waking up.

Her audience ranged from babies to nine-year-olds. Older children were rare, or too rebellious and broken to be soothed by children’s tales. Like Brad and Bell, they preferred to remain alone, sharpening their hatred for society in the darkness of their hearts.

Carla had made this routine her duty. That was why she was no longer surprised when the door opened behind her. She assumed at first it was a newly awakened parent coming to retrieve their child. But when she recognized the voice, she wondered whether the young woman had any siblings. After all, she had claimed to be alone, orphaned—her mother beaten to death, and that vile mayor, supposedly her father, stoned by the crowd.

"Forgive me for the intrusion. I didn’t expect you to be busy. If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here... Perhaps the story will help me fall asleep."

Her tone was so soft that Carla might have thought her timid—had she not remembered the fiery speech she’d given just days before, in front of city hall.

Carla didn’t reply. She simply nodded. Iris went to sit at the back of the room, her back to the wall, listening intently.

About thirty minutes later, Carla closed the book. She was glad to see that most of the children were asleep or drowsy.

"Would you help me carry them to their beds? It’ll go faster if we’re two."

Iris nodded and began, starting with the smallest ones, placing them gently in makeshift beds set up in what used to be offices of former civil servants.

Once the task was done, they found themselves alone in the room.

"If I remember correctly, your name is Iris, isn’t it?"

"Yes. And you?" asked Iris, extending a hand.

"Oh, right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Carla," she replied, shaking it.

"Nice to meet you, Carla."

"Is that why you wanted to see me?" Carla asked, surprised that Iris had held her hand for so long without adding a word.

"No, that would’ve been strange," Iris said, without letting go or explaining her visit.

"Then may I ask why you’re here?"

"Good question," Iris said thoughtfully.

"Maybe you’d like to answer it?"

"Maybe. But first, I want to show you something."

"Hmm?"

...

Moments later, Carla was following Iris through the streets of Astoria. They walked slowly but steadily away from the city center, heading toward the outskirts. The further they went, the fewer people they saw, until no one remained to cross paths with them.

"Do you know where we are?" Iris asked, continuing before Carla could respond.

"The slums. Out of sight. A narrow, shadowy alley. Just the two of us. So... have you guessed?"

Carla didn’t understand and asked,

"What did you want to show me?"

"You didn’t see it?"

"No... was I supposed to?"

"Yes. Because this conversation will determine many things. And by that, I mean: for you."

Iris spoke with a smile on her lips. Carla grew increasingly uneasy, though she didn’t know why.

(My hands are trembling? Why? Who is this girl, really? She’s acting far too strange for it to be mere post-Awakening trauma. I need to calm her down before she has a breakdown. Otherwise... I’ll have to use force to stop her.)

"This is where you grew up? You wanted me to see this place. Fine..."

Iris gently shook her head, signaling she was wrong.

"We passed people along the way. Did you see them? How happy and enthusiastic they looked?"

(What is she talking about?)

"Were the children who listened to you that happy? I don’t think so. After all, who feels joy after losing their parents? Especially if the one responsible is right in front of them. What do you think?"

Carla took a step back, her thoughts racing.

(What is she suggesting? That I’m responsible for... No. No, that’s not possible! After all, those children smiled, didn’t they?)

"They weren’t sad. They never cried. Yes! They were overflowing with joy every time..." Carla cried out, panicked.

Iris stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them, and whispered in her ear:

"Are you sure about that?"

Doubt flooded her.

Carla’s memories surged like a broken dam. Then, as if hit full force by reality, her knees gave way and she collapsed. Her mind was in turmoil.

Iris remained standing, gazing down at her, waiting for the result.

Past events flashed before Carla’s eyes. The faces she thought were joyful turned out to be sorrowful. The people she believed real were but ghosts. Everything became clear for a moment, as if the veil covering reality had been lifted. And faced with that truth, her own conscience was the first to condemn her. When she looked at her hands, she saw blood.

(No... No, it’s a lie. That’s not true. I was just following orders. It’s not my fault! It’s her! Yes! She’s manipulating me. She’s dangerous! But if I kill her, it’ll all go away...)

Carla stood up. She was drenched in sweat, her ponytail undone, damp strands of hair hiding her eyes.

But Iris saw clearly the denial in which she was drowning... and the murderous intent now blooming.

In a rage, Carla reached for her waist, searching for her handgun. Nothing. She’d left it elsewhere after all, she hadn’t expected to need it in the middle of the city.

But that didn’t stop her. She saw a broken bottle on the ground, seized it, and struck at Iris.

Her aim was her eyes, where she felt ether gathering as she spoke.

They were face to face. It should have been impossible for Carla to miss such a strike or for Iris to dodge it.

And yet, Iris didn’t move.

Carla’s attack sliced only the air.

Stunned, Carla stepped back. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

(How did she do that? She didn’t move so how did I miss?)

Iris’s smile widened, more real than ever.

"So, you noticed... The sadness, the grief, and the deaths you caused... They haunt you now."

"No! It’s you! I did nothing! Stop manipulating me!" Carla screamed, lunging again, this time careful not to look into Iris’s eyes.

She poured all her rage into her blows, striking as fast as she could.

Iris made no move, but none of Carla’s attacks landed.

Each time, she struck only air.

It was as if she had stopped seeing her. Not exactly—she could still see Iris’s serene expression—but every time she was about to hit, she hesitated, unsure of her distance, right or left, doubting herself because of Iris’s unnatural calm.

Iris waited patiently, her smile never fading... a smile that now terrified Carla more than anything.

To doubt in front of Iris—to let emotions guide you—was to be condemned.

If Carla wanted any hope of touching her, she would have to master her emotions, wrest control back by sheer will.

But... would Iris give her the chance?

In the end, Carla gave in. Exhausted, she dropped to her knees, weeping, broken by her sins.

Iris walked up to her, gently wiped a tear from her cheek, looked her straight in the eyes, and said with a noble, commanding voice—without appeal:

"You have sinned. But today, I grant you forgiveness. Your remorse will be mine. I will bear it.

From now on, you will obey me. So let me show you what it means to ..."

She whispered the final words, almost inaudibly.

"Yes, Lady Iris."