After Furen arrived, the servant bowed politely to welcome him, then withdrew, leaving him alone in front of the large, richly decorated door.
Furen didn't rush to push her. He took the time to observe her carefully:
The door, ostentatiously luxurious, was bathed in an atmosphere imbued with esotericism. The encrusted gems seemed arranged at random, yet formed a pattern of subtle regularity. Yet, upon closer examination, Furen perceived no real sign of mystery.
When he heard no more footsteps around, he took a quick look around him, then, with a solemn gesture, pushed open the magnificent door.
Despite its imposing size, it looked as if it had been cut for a giant, but it opened without making the slightest sound.
Her eyes, gradually adjusting to the interior light, distinguished a corpulent man of about fifty years old facing her. The man was chatting quietly with some guests, but upon seeing the door open, he politely excused himself before getting up to meet her.
Although his figure was corpulent, his movement was lively and assured, without the slightest trace of weakness associated with age. His face, almost without wrinkles, framed by almost entirely white hair, expressed both authority and benevolence. From the first glance, he commanded respect.
Yes, Furen could clearly see the master of the house, for he was not wearing a mask. He was dressed simply, as if in a domestic setting, his face calm and serene. This simplicity troubled Furen: had he misunderstood the meaning of this "family meeting" called by the head of the Abraham branch?
The man, standing up, spoke in a voice that, without being aggressive, exuded a natural authority:
"Ah, there you go, Traveler.
Welcome. The fact that you're here means you've finally overcome your challenges. I'm happy to see how much you've progressed."
Deep down, Furen didn't really take this Reeve Crow, head of the Abraham family, very seriously. Yet, faced with his presence, he couldn't help but feel a certain unease: strange that this man had such an air, when, a century or two later, those we would call the "Elders" would hardly leave such an impression.
Furen only paused briefly before replying:
"Thank you for your concern. I have indeed overcome my own blockages. So, will this meeting… begin now?"
Reeve gave a slight smile.
"There's no need to be in too much of a hurry. Those who rush cannot taste the most subtle aromas. The moment is approaching, certainly, but you are not the last.
There is no need to rush a family reunion. Calm down, my dear Traveler. Sit down. When the time is right, I will call it.
As he spoke, Reeve made a graceful gesture with his hand, like a conductor guiding the melody of a ball. With his harmonious movements, he indicated to Furen where he should sit.
Furen, obedient, followed the gestures of the master of ceremonies and went to sit near a table where two or three people were already seated.
The room resembled a vast living room and a vast dance floor. Dozens of tables, meticulously carved from precious wood, were arranged throughout.
If one looked closely, the patterns engraved on these boards formed strange and enigmatic designs. A vast empty space remained in the center, but it was not large enough to serve as a dance floor. It was surrounded by several tables.
The descendants of Abraham still present in Trier were not numerous enough to fill the room. Glancing around, Furen estimated there were barely twenty of them.
Not wanting to attract attention, he walks along the edge of the "parquet" before discreetly settling down.
The members of the Abraham family, scattered around, were immersed in various attitudes: some were talking in low voices, others were meditating with their eyes closed, and still others were staring into space, lost in their thoughts.
The tables, contrary to festive custom, carried neither food nor wine. Their surface, polished to the point of reflecting light, was bare. Furen ran his hand over the smooth wood: it shone like a mirror.
He leaned back against the thick back of his chair, let his shoulders fall, raised his head toward the ceiling, and closed his eyes for a moment, absorbed in his meditation.
Time passed. Reeve, when the hour arrived , did not immediately call the meeting to order. He waited a few more minutes. Then, making sure that no one else was about to arrive, he stood up and faced the assembly. By the light of the candles hanging above the floor, he coughed three times, first softly, then increasingly loudly.
The Abrahams, drawn from their thoughts, all turned to him with attentive eyes.
Then the master of the meeting speaks:
"My dear Abrahams, I am happy to see you gathered here. Some, after reading my letter, felt fear, fearing that the denunciation of a single member of our family would lead to the extinction of all."
He pauses before continuing:
"Your fear was not unfounded. I issued this letter in haste, with a little confusion... for, at that moment, I was genuinely panicked. It was half intentional, half sincere: I wanted my words to evoke my true emotions."
He sighed.
"I didn't expect some to be so sensitive that they even refused to come. Yet I don't bring only bad news. There is also good news for those who aspire to progress, or who seek to deepen their extraordinary gifts."
"Yes, I have decided to grant you material assistance, free of charge. To those of you who have not yet reached Sequence 8, to our youth, to our future, I will offer all the materials necessary for their ascension.
As for those looking for Sequence 7 materials, I will be sharing some of the extraordinary resources I have accumulated over the years."
At these words, the room, which had been silent until then, suddenly came to life: the Abrahams began to murmur among themselves, some exchanging incredulous glances, others singing in silence.
Then, a still young voice, tinged with a mixture of curiosity and indignation, rises:
"So, Mr. Reeve... what happened to the one who put us in such a critical situation?"
Reeve didn't answer. He closed his eyes painfully. A deathly silence immediately fell over the room, as if time had stood still for two or three seconds. The heavy atmosphere immediately silenced the speaker.
When he opened his eyes again, Reeve no longer had the serenity of before. His voice, now laden with pain and remorse, echoed:
"In truth, the member of our family I mentioned in my letter failed to escape. We now know that it was not the Church, but the Gnosis Society, and specifically Tamara, one of their figures, who discovered our traces. They killed them... and then used them to communicate with the spirit world."
That family member… he was my son. Vassek Abraham.
(End of chapter.)