The old wooden door creaked softly behind him, shutting out the world like the final curtain of a forgotten play. Damián stepped into the cabin, his movements uncertain — as though crossing the threshold into a place untouched by time. The air inside was warm but heavy, carrying the scent of aged parchment, scorched herbs, and something older… something faintly metallic, like the memory of blood.
The room was dimly lit by a single lantern that flickered with a yellow glow, casting long shadows that danced like spirits against the walls. Strange symbols had been carved into the woodgrain—symbols Damián could not read, yet they stirred something deep within him. A quiet thrum behind his ribs. As though his soul had begun to hum in response.
The old man, Axir, smiled broadly, revealing teeth too perfect for his age. He did not seem surprised by the visitor. No. He had been expecting him.
"You want money?" Axir's voice curled through the air like pipe smoke.
Damián swallowed his fear and nodded. "Yes, sir."
Axir tilted his head, eyes narrowing with the amusement of someone hearing the wrong question. "Is there anything else you desire?"
There was silence for a beat. Then Damián spoke, his voice barely above a whisper—raw, unfiltered.
"…You could say my mother's respect."
For a moment, Axir didn't respond. Then he chuckled — not cruelly, but like a man who had lived long enough to find pain amusing. "This world is full of mysteries," he said, looking past Damián, into something only he could see. "Even the stars out there in the silent black… Perhaps the deities dwell among them. Or perhaps they are merely echoes of men who dared to believe too hard."
Damián leaned forward, eyes catching the amber gleam of the lantern. "Do you really think so?" he asked, the curiosity in his voice like a child peeking behind a locked door.
Axir did not answer immediately. He moved with a slow grace, lowering himself into a grand leather chair, old but firm — the kind nobles might have died in. There was a quiet weight to the way he sat, as if every joint in his body knew stories too sacred to speak aloud.
Damián took the seat opposite him. No words passed between them, but for a fleeting second, they looked like father and son across the ruins of years.
"You see," Axir said finally, voice like velvet over a rusted blade, "what you desire… it is not gold. It is not even respect. It is meaning. And meaning… comes from power. You, child, are not chasing coin. You are chasing something deeper."
Damián stared into the lantern's flame, heart pounding. "So you're saying… the Temple of the Lord of Truth—those fools I always mocked—they were right? There are deities in this world?"
Axir smirked. A slow, knowing smirk that cracked the lines of his face like lightning through old parchment.
Damián looked at him closely, his thoughts unraveling. If they exist… I need to find them. I must. His fingers clenched tightly on his lap, the image of his mother's disgust etched into his chest like a brand.
And then, softly, as though sharing a sacred secret, Axir said:
"All deities… were once mortals."
The words hit Damián like a slap to the soul. His mouth opened slightly. Eyes wide. It was not shock—it was revelation. As if someone had shown him the sky was not the ceiling of existence, but merely the floor of something far greater.
He leaned forward, voice trembling. "Can I become one?"
Axir let out a laugh. Not mocking. But tired. The laughter of a man who had seen fools rise and kings fall, and yet still marveled at the fire of a new question.
Then he stopped. Looked Damián dead in the eyes. "Yes."
One word. One spark. But it felt like thunder in Damián's blood.
His thoughts raced. The universe… fate… the path that brought him to this place… was this meant to happen?
Before he could finish his spiral, Axir interrupted with surgical precision.
"Why?" he asked, tone sharp now. "Why do you want to become one?"
Damián didn't hesitate. His answer was simple. Honest. Almost childlike in its simplicity.
"…To earn my mother's respect."
Axir stared at him.
And then, for the first time since Damián entered the cabin… he frowned.