Salomi, observing the birth of Sakolomi's imaginary world, felt an inner call pass through her.
In turn, she decided to create one—a dreamed space that would reflect her own consciousness, her buried desires and fears.
Sakolomi was not surprised. He had long understood a strange truth:
all mythical beings of a certain transcendence end up generating their own inner world.
Not out of vanity, but because their existence overflowed the bounds of the real.
Some carefully hid these worlds, refusing to open their doors to other entities.
Others kept them as secret sanctuaries, spiritual refuges where they would retreat when the collective Dream became too heavy, too noisy, too full of contradictions.
And sometimes, these retreats were so long, so deep, that the outside world believed these beings had vanished—erased from history.
But they were only dreaming elsewhere, in the abysses of their own creation.
Sakolomi was still meditating on this idea when a whisper passed through his consciousness.
A familiar voice, filled with gravity and gentleness.
It was Mü Thanatos.
She was calling him.
Without transition, he left the imaginary world.
His presence dissolved into the dreamlike flow, and in an instant, he reappeared in Mü Thanatos's domain—
a place suspended between worlds, made of clouds of eternal gold and luminous winds.
Beneath his feet, a floating stone islet, topped by a cave whose entrance breathed an ancient night.
Bare-chested, the marks engraved on his skin vibrated with a dull glow.
He advanced slowly, eyes raised toward the silhouette seated on a rock.
Mü Thanatos was contemplating the infinite clouds—a sea of ether and light.
"You came quickly..." she murmured without turning her head.
Sakolomi knelt on one knee, out of respect.
But immediately, the calm and sharp voice of the goddess rose.
"That is not necessary."
He lifted his gaze, a faint smile at the corner of his lips.
"You do not like to be glorified?"
Then Mü Thanatos slowly turned her head.
Her pale red eyes fixed his, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to hold its breath.
"Original gods care nothing for glory. We neither need to be loved nor feared. We exist because existence cannot erase us."
Sakolomi remained silent, his gaze filled with weariness.
That fatigue that had weighed on him for days, like a soul-weariness, never left him.
The goddess stood up, barely touching the void with her toes, then slowly approached.
Around her, the golden clouds began to swirl like spheres of incense.
"How do you feel today?" she asked in an almost motherly voice.
Sakolomi gave a tired smile.
"Still with that strange fatigue... as if part of me had never really awakened."
Then he straightened a little.
"You called me for a reason, didn't you?"
Mü Thanatos nodded.
"Yes. You asked me questions the other day. Ones even the Ancients hesitate to answer."
Her gaze became more serious, almost compassionate.
"I am ready to answer you... at least, to the extent that I am allowed."
The golden wind rose then, carrying around them a vibrating silence.
Sakolomi widened his eyes, surprised and relieved at the same time.
"Ah yes? Really?" he murmured.
Mü Thanatos slowly nodded.
"Ask," she said simply.
He lowered his head. Memories assailed him: his absent father, Sally gone, the fear deep in his mother's eyes. Then he lifted his face, voice strained.
"Among the deviants, they say... one can bring back a mortal. But how do we proceed when a great mythical being holds its being—body, mind, soul, memory—hostage? How to resurrect someone whose entire existence is sealed by a superior power?"
Mü Thanatos stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word to come.
"It all depends on the authority that holds these existences prisoner," she finally answered.
"If the entity imprisoning them has an unshakeable will and a powerful jurisdiction over these fundamental states, then resurrecting them becomes—practically—impossible. It jealously guards the key to what defines these beings: their laws, their memories, their potentialities. Even the brute force of a deviant is not always enough."
Sakolomi held his breath.
"And if there exists above that entity a higher authority? Does hope then awaken?"
"That is the nuance," said Mü Thanatos.
She placed a hand on the rock, as if sculpting her explanation in the air.
"Before an entity of a higher rank—a primordial original god, a true meta-conceptual one like Shylty, Isissis, or Morlük—even the will of a great mythical being can be constrained. Where the legitimacy of a cosmic order prevails, seals can be broken. But it is not without cost. Calling upon the intervention of such authority opens fractures: the cosmic order may readjust, and this readjustment is often paid for by collateral catastrophes."
Sakolomi felt his fists clench.
"You could help me, then?" he asked, not leaving her gaze.
Mü Thanatos shook her head, gravity in her features.
"I could, if I wanted to. But we—the gods—have safeguards. You deviants remain, despite your new power, close to humans by your consciousness and reflection. Any direct intervention on our part would alter the balance of the spheres; it can free a being, yes... but it will awaken other fractures, shift reputations, awaken ancient oaths. The fallout is rarely repairable. That is why we do not act on request. Only written and sealed pacts with understood consequences can justify the attempt—and I forbid you to take that path without thinking a hundred times."
Sakolomi nodded, a shadow of resolution burning in his eyes.
"I understand... But I will not give up," he whispered.
Mü Thanatos bowed her head, as one greets a stubbornness one cannot either fade or fully approve.
"You have another option—harder and more direct: confront the entity that holds them. Facing it means measuring yourself against its very jurisdiction, weakening its control from within. It will be dangerous, often impossible without preparation, but it is a path—more subtle, because it makes you an actor rather than a beggar of divine support."
A silence settled, filled with golden clouds turning like so many pieces of a coming fate. Sakolomi understood the road would be long, and that more than brute force, he would need strategy, allies, and certainties he did not yet have.
"Then I will do that," he said finally, less hesitant. "I will bring them back—by my own means, or paying whatever price is necessary."
Mü Thanatos watched him, neither approving nor condemning.
"May your choice make you wiser," she murmured. "And know this: some chains are broken only by learning to become more than a mere breaker."
Sakolomi had finally asked the question he had kept for a long time: the origin of his fatigue.
But Mü Thanatos, strangely, remained silent. Her gaze lost itself in the golden clarity of the clouds, and she diverted the conversation without answering.
Seeing weariness invade the young Deviant's face, she invited him to enter the cave. Inside bathed in amber light, soft and warm, where a time-polished rock seemed almost alive.
"Rest here," she said softly.
Sakolomi wanted to lie down, but Mü Thanatos stopped him with a gesture and sat down herself.
"Come. Lay your head here."
She pointed to her knees.
A little hesitant, he obeyed. As soon as his head touched the silky fabric of her tunic, a strange calm invaded him. His breath lightened, his consciousness stretched, as if all his burden gradually faded into a golden silence.
"That is... strange," he murmured. "When I lay my head on you, I feel like everything gets in order. Like my fatigue... disappears. For a moment, everything feels under control."
Mü Thanatos did not answer. She simply observed his dark marks, those signs engraved on his skin that pulsed faintly with each breath. She knew.
"Lord Mü Thanatos..." he asked hesitantly, "have you made me stronger?"
"What?" she replied, almost surprised. "What makes you think that?"
Sakolomi was silent for a moment before continuing:
"Since our first meeting, since these marks appeared on me, I have felt something change. I become stronger, it's true... but also more exhausted. And yet, when I am near you, it's different. The marks weigh less on me. As if... your presence soothes something inside me. So I wonder: is it you? Is it your power? If that is the case, I don't blame you. I just want to understand."
Mü Thanatos remained silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the arabesques of shadows forming on his chest. Then, slowly, she stroked one of the marks that glowed faintly with her fingertips.
She knew she was not the cause—at least, not directly. What she had done during their first meeting had probably triggered the resonance of these symbols, awakening something ancient, buried in the deepest layers of his consciousness.
But she also knew that her very existence—as a living conceptualization of all things—soothed temporarily this inner disorder. Her presence restored balance where his body battled itself.
She watched Sakolomi for a long moment, his breathing steady, his face calm despite the latent exhaustion.
Temporary, she thought. This calm is only a respite.
She understood that the day would come when her mere presence would no longer suffice. That these marks would regain dominance, perhaps consuming all that he is.
And yet, she did nothing. Not yet.
She kept her hand on his head, eyes lost in the light filtering through the cave.
For even a goddess sometimes chooses to let silence speak for her.