The world of the Limbo, restored to its original state, once again breathed its living chaos. The plains of information disintegrated into mists of shadow, mathematical forms twisted into imaginary organs, and the wind brought back whispers of ancient torments. In this universe returned to its primal nature, Arcane could finally direct her gaze: somewhere, at the heart of this realm, stood Saï's castle.
Before leaving, Salomi brushed the air. Threads of black energy wove themselves, forming a black outfit over Arcane's bare body. A simple outfit, opaque, yet warm—almost protective.
"Here. You are no longer alone," she said calmly.
They then advanced. And with each step they took, the shadows before them crumbled: the limbal creatures knelt, their misshapen silhouettes trembling with worship and fear. A living corridor opened, guiding the two women to the castle gates.
An immemorial edifice, built of flesh, memory, and coagulated soul. The portal pulsed, breathing like an organ.
Salomi simply raised her hand and knocked.
The castle opened.
Inside, the silence was heavy, as if the place had held its breath for centuries. Arcane barely had time to take in the great hall when she saw—there, in the center—a cracked statue, abandoned like a mocked relic.
Zara.
Arcane's throat tightened. Tears came without her being able to hold them back, and her steps grew hurried.
"Wait," Salomi said softly.
She placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, then approached the statue.
A simple spell sealed it. Nothing definitive. Nothing irrevocable. Zeus had wanted to break her, not erase her.
Salomi smiled, without arrogance—just the quiet awareness of her own power.
In a breath, her mana covered the stone. A black and gentle light, deep as a bottomless sea, enveloped the effigy. Then she stepped back, standing beside Arcane.
The stone vibrated.
It cracked.
It fissured.
And it crumbled like a useless shell.
Zara inhaled.
Her black hair fell, heavy and alive. Her blue eyes opened, first misty, then shining with a sudden recognition.
Arcane didn't wait for words. She threw herself against her.
"Mother… Mother… I… I'm so happy… so much…"
Zara closed her arms around her, holding her as if she had waited for this moment through all eternity.
She did not speak.
Only her tears said everything: horror, absence, intact love.
Salomi stood back, silent.
She did not interrupt.
She said nothing.
She let the moment exist—whole, sacred, true.
Arcane still trembled in her mother's arms. She buried her face in her shoulder, as if fearing a too harsh breath might erase all this—as if this contact could still disappear.
Zara slowly caressed her hair, rediscovering its texture, its weight, its warmth.
"My little Arcane…" she whispered.
Her voice was gentle but broken, like music returning after being buried under ruins.
Arcane sniffled, searching for her words.
"I tried so hard to hold on… I was so scared… I remembered you, but… everything was blurred… I felt like I was becoming someone else…"
Zara took her face in her hands.
Her blue eyes bore no shadow of judgment.
No disappointment.
Only a total, unconditional presence.
"You survived," she said simply. "Nothing can erase that. Nothing must erase what you are.
You are my daughter. My heart. My continuity. Even if the world itself collapses, that will never change."
Arcane burst into tears again—but this time, they were different.
Not the tears of despair.
The tears of someone coming home.
Zara held her even tighter. It seemed she wanted to keep her that way for eternity.
After a long moment, it was Zara who loosened the embrace first—with infinite gentleness.
She lifted her head.
Her eyes fell on Salomi.
For a moment, she observed—not with fear, nor distrust.
But with deep lucidity.
She saw what Salomi was.
And she understood the cost of changing the Limbo.
The cost of breaking a god's imprint.
She walked toward her.
Arcane remained just behind, wiping her cheeks.
Zara bowed slightly—not out of submission, but out of rare, sincere respect that even kings never receive.
"Thank you."
A simple word.
But in this world, that word bore the weight of a cosmic promise.
"Thank you for returning her to me.
Thank you for giving her justice when I could not.
Thank you… for having the strength to do what even the gods refused to do."
Salomi did not move immediately.
She held Zara's gaze, and something invisible passed between them.
A recognition.
An equality.
An understanding shared only by those who have crossed death, war, and solitude.
Then Salomi answered, in a calm, almost gentle voice:
"I only repaired a theft.
Love should never be torn away."
Zara slowly nodded.
"Then I am indebted to you… by memory. And memory, where we have been, is worth much more than any oath of war or allegiance."
Arcane looked from her mother to Salomi, her yellow eyes shining.
In this room made of flesh, chaos, and memories, three wounded, broken, but unalterable existences finally stood united.
And a silent peace—rare, fragile, almost sacred—settled.
In the still vibrant silence of the reunion between Zara and Arcane, a pale mist appeared in Salomi's mind.
It did not come from the material world, nor from the Limbo world.
It was a presence.
Morlük.
His gaze crossed hers, calm, ancient, but filled with rare pride, almost incongruous for a god.
"I cannot say if this is fitting for a deity… but having you as an apostle is a kind of pleasure," he declared.
Salomi felt something tighten in her chest. A breath. A recognition. She slightly lowered her head.
"I thank you, Lord Morlük."
Her voice was neither humble nor submissive. It was sincere.
"Lift your head," he replied gently.
She obeyed, and their eyes met.
"You are the perfect apostle for the Madhurya.
You know when to be tender, when to be harsh, and when to be just.
You embody both my fragments and the total silence of the All.
You are the living expression of what I do not say."
His words were not praise.
They were a statement.
Salomi felt a strange warmth flood her face.
"To be honest… becoming your apostle was exactly what I needed.
The powers you entrust me with… make me invincible.
I… I don't know if…"
She looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
"It might be… perhaps more appropriate… if I… gave you a hug to thank you."
She had whispered the end.
As if she herself doubted the right to say this request.
Morlük raised a slight eyebrow… then smiled.
An almost human smile.
"Really… you humans.
Very well. Come. I'll allow it this time."
Salomi raised her head, and her smile was—for the first time in a long while—innocent.
She rushed to him and hugged him.
He placed a hand on her head, with a gesture that had nothing divine, nothing condescending.
A gesture almost… paternal.
"Thanks to you…" whispered Salomi, her voice vibrating, "I will finally be able to protect those I care about."
"As long as you use these powers rightly, it doesn't bother me," Morlük replied.
Then he stepped back slightly, looking at her with a new attention.
"However… you will need to change your mythological name."
Salomi froze, surprised.
"Mythological… name?"
"Yes. The one the ancient weaves had given you.
Purple Flame.
The purple flame that inspires existential terror as much as absolute affection."
Morlük crossed his arms, his tone almost meditative.
"But what you have done here changes everything."
And he saw again.
Salomi walking in the Limbo.
Salomi destroying infinite creatures.
Salomi breaking Saï.
Not for pleasure.
Not for ego.
Not for brutality.
But with the cold precision of judgment.
She had not smiled.
She had not trembled.
She had not hesitated.
She had seen Arcane's screams.
She had seen Zara sealed in an eternity of powerlessness.
She had seen all of Saï's cruelty… and she had put an end to it without detour.
No hatred.
No delight.
Just the sentence.
Her heart was not empty.
It was heavy.
It contained neither anger, nor pleasure, nor vengeance.
Only the weight of reality returned to its axis.
Salomi had not "killed" Saï.
She had answered.
Not to balance.
Not to compensate.
To make irreversible.
The principle she had followed was simple, primitive, even anterior to logic itself:
That the act returns to the one who produced it.
Saï had torn away Arcane's dignity, name, and right to exist.
So Salomi had torn away hers.
She had not punished her.
She had withdrawn her right to be a person.
The body that had been Saï was no more than a container.
A vacant space.
A cosmic garment returned to the one who had been dispossessed.
Arcane was recovering her place, her signifier, her support of existence.
And Saï—was nothing.
Not dead.
Erased from the register of existence.
It was not cruelty.
It was not punitive justice.
It was an alignment operation.
A restitution.
For Salomi:
"Every action leaves a mark in reality.
I only bring the form back to its owner."
She is not the sword.
She is the mirror.
The one who shows what is—then sends it back.
She does not judge.
She reveals.
She is the return of what has been produced.
Silence fell around her. This consciousness itself seemed to listen.
Morlük, still watching her through the mental mist, finally broke his silence.
"So, your mythological name can no longer be Purple Flame.
That name no longer expresses what you have become."
He closed his eyes, as if consulting a book that was not written, but engraved in the structure of being.
"From now on, you are The Echo Weaver.
The one who weaves the return of deeds.
Or also The Mirror Judge—Le Juge-Miroir."
Salomi made a slight movement of surprise—the first true human movement since her arrival here.
"I… I didn't even know I had a mythological name before."
Morlük smiled—not amusement, but experience.
"All great mythic beings bear one.
Mortals have only functional names.
The gods have names of essence.
And Deviants, like you, bear names of history."
He paused.
"You received your first name when you became deviant.
But names change with the scope of your acts.
They rewrite themselves when your place in the world's narrative changes."
He fixed her, straight, unmasked.
"What you did today… changed your story."
Salomi remained silent.
But her gaze was no longer that of a wanderer, nor of a survivor.
It was the gaze of one who has the right to act.