The Matriarchy

The Shadow Of Reformation

### Chapter 3: The Shadow of Reformation

---

**Helena stood in the heart of the council room**, a cold steel table stretching between her and the dozen men and women who represented the world's most powerful nations. The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of energy-efficient lights casting a sterile glow over the proceedings. In this room, decisions were made that shaped the future of continents, decisions that could erase nations or birth them anew.

Helena's eyes were sharp, cutting through the dim light like a hawk surveying its prey. The leaders gathered here were her allies, though not necessarily her friends. She knew that power bound them together, a fragile and pragmatic bond that could fracture at the slightest hint of vulnerability.

"Thank you for coming," Helena began, her voice smooth and commanding, yet measured, like a pianist's hand hovering over the keys before the first note.

Across from her, the representative from France shifted in his seat, his expression tight with barely concealed tension. Others, like the German Chancellor and the Prime Minister of Canada, nodded in silent acknowledgment.

Helena's fingers rested lightly on the surface of the table as she continued. "We are gathered here to discuss the next phase in our collective endeavor—the final eradication of one of the last bastions of unyielding, archaic patriarchal rule: Afghanistan."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the room. The atmosphere was thick, electric with the silent understanding of what was at stake.

**The German Chancellor**, a sharp-eyed woman with a reputation for pragmatism, leaned forward slightly. "You're referring, of course, to the Taliban."

Helena nodded, her eyes narrowing. "Yes. They are the last holdout, the only regime left in the world that enforces 100 percent Sharia law. No reforms, no compromise. And unlike the rest of the Muslim world, they have refused to bend to the pressures of modernity."

The **French representative**, a slim, serious-looking man, cleared his throat. "But haven't most of the Islamic countries already modernized their laws? Even the more conservative ones have made adjustments to their legal systems to accommodate the United Nations' standards."

Helena's lips curled slightly at the corner, a shadow of a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Exactly. They modernized because they had no choice. Either they reformed, or they risked isolation from the global economy, the UN, and the so-called 'civilized' world. We've seen it happen across the Middle East. One by one, the dominoes fell."

She straightened, her tone hardening. "But the Taliban? They're different. They never capitulated. They've made it clear they won't trade their faith for a seat at the global table. They enforce Sharia law without apology, without restraint. And the rest of the Muslim world? They're afraid of what we represent—afraid that full adherence to Islam will bring them into direct conflict with us, the secular powers."

**The Canadian Prime Minister** leaned in, his face thoughtful. "So, their faith isn't just a set of beliefs; it's a weapon they wield against modernity. Against us."

Helena nodded, her gaze steely. "Yes. The other Muslim nations enforce a diluted form of Islam. They've traded their religion for political survival, for acceptance into the international community. The Taliban, though—they represent a dangerous idea. The idea that a society can still live fully under Sharia, under an ancient, patriarchal order that defies everything we've built."

A murmur rippled through the room as the weight of her words settled in. They all understood the implications—an unbending, unreformed Islamic state was not just a threat to global security; it was a threat to the ideological foundations of the matriarchal empire itself.