With thoughts both heavy and subtly touched, Thalia followed Hermes back to the city-states of the mortal world.
This time, instead of observing superficial bustle, she heeded Prometheus's advice and focused on the beginning and end of life.
They approached an ordinary home. From within came a woman's hoarse cry, followed by a wail announcing the arrival of new life. The midwife emerged, a wrinkled, red infant in her arms, to deliver the good news to its anxiously waiting family.
The newborn, eyes squeezed shut, flailed tiny fists, mouth wide open in a cry, as if it had just endured some great injustice.
Yet, looking at the weeping child, Thalia suddenly laughed.
In that instant, she understood.
Why do we laugh in life?
Perhaps the question itself had been misdirected. Meaning is not an answer to be sought externally; it is rooted in the most primitive impetus of life itself.
This child cries—not because the world holds meaning, but because it 'wants' to cry. It felt discomfort, it needed to breathe, it was present in the moment, and so it announced its arrival with a cry, expressing its feelings. That cry itself is the most direct and powerful affirmation of 'existence'!
Because I want to laugh, I laugh. Because I want to cry, I cry.
Choice is what imbues an action with meaning.
Laughter does not require an ultimate reason to prove its 'usefulness'. It is, in itself, an expression of vitality, a manifestation of inner will, an acceptance and celebration of 'existence' in that very moment!
Because the 'desire' to laugh is the most essential meaning—the choice to live and the freedom of the soul!
Reality may be harsh, suffering abundant, and fate unyielding, not easily changed.
But choosing to laugh, choosing to find even a glimmer of light in suffering, choosing to create joy, choosing to love and to struggle—each 'choice' itself creates meaning. It is using the will to live to fight against the cold and emptiness of the universe!
She also understood that it wasn't just laughter, but all emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, love, hate—may not possess a predetermined 'meaning' in themselves. They are life's most direct feedback to the external world, the sensation of stimuli, the rich spectrum of lived experience.
But more importantly, they can also be acts of defiance!
Grief is the struggle against loss. Anger is the struggle against injustice. Sorrow is the attachment to and preservation of beauty. And laughter? Laughter is the brightest, most relentless struggle against despair, against nothingness, against everything that seeks to crush the soul!
Emotions are not weaknesses. They are weapons, they are colours, they are proof that life is alive!
An unprecedented power surged from the depths of Thalia's divinity, coursing through her very being. The divine light around her, which had dimmed with confusion, now blazed forth anew. But it was no longer the slightly frivolous light of mere joy from before; it was a deeper, richer spectrum.
She was no longer just Thalia, the Muse of Comedy.
After this illumination on the nature and power of emotions, after understanding the true meaning of choice and the creation of meaning, her priesthood naturally expanded.
She had become Thalia, the Goddess of Emotions!
She now presided over the flow and expression of all feelings, understanding the tears behind every laugh, the pain beneath every burst of anger, the deep attachment held within every sorrow.
She was still the embodiment of joy, but her joy had become more resilient and radiant. It was now a kind of courage—the courage to continue loving life and to choose laughter, having grasped a fundamental truth of existence.
She looked at Hermes, her eyes once again alight, but now with the power of wisdom and serenity.
"Hermes, I understand." Her voice regained its former clarity, yet held a calm strength within it.
"Thank you, brother. And thank you to the suffering sage as well."
Thalia's words were reborn with clarity and power, the light in her eyes blazing anew, as if the colours of the entire world had grown brighter with the newfound completeness of her emotions.
She was about to share her insights with Hermes, to thank him for his guidance...
But Hermes suddenly raised a hand, cutting her off.
The usual roguish charm and cunning had vanished from his face, replaced by an almost chilling urgency and vigilance, sharp as a falcon's gaze.
"Enough, Thalia." His voice was rapid and insistent, like rain hammering against stone.
"Now that you've escaped the danger of your divinity collapsing and come to your senses, now, immediately, right now, we go to Alexander! We kill Prometheus!"
"What?" The smile and dawning comprehension on Thalia's face instantly froze. For a moment, she thought she had misheard, and repeated hollowly, "Kill... kill whom? The sage who just guided us? Hermes, have you been infected by something?"
Hermes had no time for lengthy explanations. He grasped Thalia's wrist, his grip firm enough to cause a slight pain.
"I don't have time to go into detail! Use that power over emotions you've just mastered to sense Alexander and his Spear of Divine Retribution! We need to find him, now! Quickly!"
His urgency didn't seem feigned. Though Thalia was filled with doubt, under the pressure of Hermes's almost commanding tone, she subconsciously mobilised her new power.
She closed her eyes, and her awareness spread out like invisible ripples, seeking the strongest desire for conquest, for ambition—the signature of Alexander.
Having locked onto his location, Hermes immediately transformed into an incredibly dazzling streak of light, pulling Thalia along as he raced at his highest speed.
Along the way, with the wind howling past them, Hermes began to explain rapidly, his voice low and filled with grim seriousness:
"Listen, Thalia! The 'Prometheus' of this world is not our brother Prometheus, the one who loves to sympathise with mortals! He's not even one of 'us'!"
"And even if he were our own brother Prometheus," Hermes's voice dripped with cold sarcasm, "you know his character. When has he ever helped people when he was truly 'free'? It's always either for the sake of some 'prophetic' scheme, or because of some insane, idealistic investment in 'unlimited human potential'! That calculating brother of ours, he always has his reasons!"
"And this 'Prometheus'?" Hermes's eyes were sharp as blades.
"For him to be so 'kindly' offering us guidance, awakening you from the brink of nihilism, there has to be an underlying plot we haven't yet seen clearly! He saw through our true identities but pretended not to know—that in itself is the biggest suspicion! We have to use the Spear of Divine Retribution, the weapon most capable of slaying a god, to deal with him completely before he can use us to achieve some unknown goal! Eliminate the problem before it ever becomes one!"
Thalia listened to this explanation, but the sense of wrongness in her heart only grew stronger.
She keenly sensed the unusual, bloodthirsty resolve in Hermes's words.
This was not like the brother she knew, the one famed for his wit, his cunning, his slightly slippery nature.