Chapter 78 – Ashes and Ascent
The Palmeiras locker room was a furnace of silence.
Not the quiet of exhaustion, but the kind that pressed against skin, that filled the lungs heavier than air. Shinguards had been tossed to the floor, straps still undone. Water bottles sat untouched, condensation dripping onto the bench. Three goals down, with forty-five minutes left to play—against Corinthians, in their own den, where the very walls seemed to vibrate with hostility.
Eneas stood at the center, arms crossed, his jaw locked so tightly the vein on his temple pulsed like a metronome. No clipboard. No tactics board.
Just his voice.
"Three-nil."
He let the words hang, sharp as a blade.
"Three goals. That’s what they gave you. Not because they’re better." He pointed a finger, the gesture slicing through the room. "But because you let them."
No one spoke. Not Thiago, his hands clenched at his sides. Not Rafael, whose usual fire had dimmed to embers. Not even Nando, whose fingers still trembled where they gripped his knees.
"They’re not smarter. They’re not faster. They’re not stronger." Eneas paced now, his boots thudding against the tile like a drumbeat. "But they want it more. They showed up to a war, and we came dressed for a parade."
His voice climbed, raw and unrelenting.
"They came to break us, and we let them. One bad touch, and we panicked. One goal, and we forgot who the hell we are."