A cold wind swept through the cemetery, gently lifting the dead leaves scattered among the graves. The air was saturated with moisture, heavy with the scent of wet earth and ancient stone. The sky, a uniform gray, seemed to weigh down on the shoulders of the world, and every sound—the cracking of a branch, the rustling of a crow—sounded like an intrusion into this sacred silence.
Here, time did not truly flow. It stagnated.
Sakolomé appeared, walking slowly between the rows of worn stones. His eyes scanned the scene, searching the shadows between statues, behind crosses, as if tracking an invisible presence. A presence he knew was real.
_ She must be somewhere around here.
His steps instinctively led him to a secluded corner of the cemetery. Where moss had overtaken the slabs, where the silence was even deeper.
It was here he had seen her for the first time. Velda.
But this time… nothing.
Not a breath, not a whisper. Just emptiness.
_ Now that I think about it… I never knew how to make her come to me.
He stood still for a moment, arms hanging by his sides, then slowly sat down on an old tombstone, damp and cold beneath him. His gaze lost itself in the ground. He thought of that first encounter, that strange apparition.
_ Last time… it was because I was crying that she appeared. Apparently annoyed by that…
A heavy silence settled again, as weighty as a judgment.
He remained there, motionless, as if hoping the mere weight of his thoughts would be enough to bring her back.
Sakolomé, still seated on the tombstone, let his thoughts whirl in his mind. The ambient silence seemed almost supernatural. Then, a strange sound, like a quick scraping on stone, broke the stillness. He raised his head, slightly surprised.
— What was that?
He stood slowly, scanning the surroundings. The air seemed frozen, the atmosphere even thicker. Then, from a shaded bush, a small creature emerged softly. A goat, tiny—barely thirty centimeters tall—with gray fur and blood-red eyes.
Sakolomé's face lit up.
— Hey, it's Gorgonax!
The goat stared at him silently, its crimson pupils full of strange intelligence. With a quick leap, it jumped into his arms. Sakolomé gently held it close.
— Gorgonax, how are you? he said with a smile. Do you know where Velda is? Can you tell me?
An ethereal voice rose behind him.
— I am here.
He turned abruptly, then his face relaxed.
— Velda. You still look as good as ever, I see.
She smiled, floating lightly a few centimeters above the ground.
— Pff… You're not crying today?
Sakolomé burst out in a brief, somewhat bitter laugh.
— Haha… Very funny.
He resumed, in a more weary tone:
— Really very funny.
Velda raised her eyebrows slightly before levitating higher, crossing her arms.
— Calm down, little human…
Sakolomé watched her for a moment, then frowned as if a memory was coming back to him.
— Velda… I didn't call you, I said nothing, did nothing special. So how did you…
— Shut. she cut him off softly. I see everything and I know everything, in this cemetery. And now, I no longer need to hide from you.
He lowered his eyes, slightly unsettled.
— I see…
Velda descended gracefully to the ground, her bare feet touching the stone with the lightness of a feather.
— I know why you came, little Satsujin Otoko.
Sakolomé shuddered at that word.
— Ah… really?
But a shadow of annoyance crossed his face.
— You still read me like a book, huh?
Velda only laughed softly, mockingly.
— Hahaha… Yes, a little.
— I wish you'd stop doing that… he grumbled.
— I'm sorry, but it's impossible. One day, maybe, you'll learn to keep me from it.
He sighed deeply, shaking his head.
— Whatever… You showed a future to my little sister, Salomé, didn't you?
Velda nodded.
— Indeed.
— But why her? You don't even know her. It's me you know. You should have shown it to me. Why her?
A mysterious smile appeared on Velda's lips.
— I cannot reveal that to you. Not yet. But maybe you'll understand one day.
She slowly approached, placing her blazing gaze into Sakolomé's.
— Normally, I'm not allowed to meddle in human affairs.
— What a pity… he sighed. But you could at least tell me what you know about that so-called future…
Velda raised a hand, stopping him with a simple gesture. She nodded slowly.
Sakolomé frowned, unsettled.
— Huh? You think the future is changing?
She nodded again.
— Speaking of the future isn't quite accurate. But… concerning the one linked to this timeline… Yes. You are deviating from it. Or rather… you have taken the first step.
— The first? repeated Sakolomé, outraged. You mean that's all we've done?
— Yes. The fact that you chose to change things, to go see Bakuzan, and that you sent Salomé to meet Gaïus… That's the first step.
Sakolomé stepped back slightly, as if struck by a thought too vast for him.
— Wow… That's… disturbing.
Velda gently tapped his shoulder, with an unexpected warmth.
— Don't give up, my little one. Certainly, the path is still long. But the fact that you are already on it… should reassure you.
A long sigh escaped Sakolomé's lips. The silence left by Velda was as heavy as the truth she had just spoken. He clenched his fists, his gaze hardening.
— Velda… You're not human. You are an entity, a demon. You perceive us with an eye we cannot even conceive. So… tell me one thing. Do you know the Devil? The one who…
— …The one who killed your father? she replied calmly, without blinking.
Sakolomé froze. His fists slowly unclenched. He lowered his eyes, his gaze drowned in a sea of thoughts he could no longer sort.
— You are not ready to face that kind of creature, said Velda in a neutral, almost sorry tone. That Devil… is my father.
Sakolomé's gaze shot up abruptly, his eyes wide open, caught between disbelief and terror.
— I don't know why he acts like that, Velda continued. He always follows vague, indistinct designs… Even for me.
— How strong is he? Sakolomé whispered, almost involuntarily.
Velda gave a small chuckle. Not mocking. More a note of cold compassion.
— If I had to describe his power in words, your brain would implode. Your existence, as it is, is too fragile. What you are doesn't even allow you to conceive who he really is. Not yet.
Sakolomé clenched his fists again, this time not out of anger, but to hold on to something, a stubborn will to understand.
Velda looked at him with unexpected gentleness.
— Focus on your brother. That's what you can do now. You have already met one of my sisters, Rivhiamë. She is… gentle. Benevolent, even.
— Really? said Sakolomé, surprised.
— You still doubted her, didn't you? hesitating… Well, you can stop. She is in the process of concluding a new pact. Soon, she will live inside you.
— Wait… live inside me? She's going to possess my body? he asked, worried.
— Not really, Velda replied. It will be more like… a second consciousness. An inner coexistence. You will gain a lot from it. Rivhiamë is a mythical creature, a demon. Her level of existence is linked to the Narrative. Except for your brother Bakuzan, no one else in your family but your father has come close to it.
— The Narrative? repeated Sakolomé, furrowing his brow.
Velda tilted her head slightly, as if carefully choosing her words.
— In every being, there are five fundamental states of existence: the body, the mind, the soul, the narrative… and finally, the being. You have so far only reached the bodily level. And yet, strangely, you manifest an energy comparable to that of the soul. That's no small thing. But it's also dangerous.
She moved closer slightly.
— You see, the body is physical. But all other states transcend one another, one after the other. You… you already use the energy of a plane beyond your own. That could break your balance, destroy you, or worse: erase you from the thread of your own story. If you don't evolve your consciousness faster… you won't survive the choices ahead of you.
Sakolomé looked at her, completely lost. Every word Velda spoke sounded like a cryptic code, like a familiar language whose meanings he no longer understood.
But one thing was certain.
He could never turn back again.