Whether or not the young deity liked my touch-ups, however, was a question that would not be answered on this visit or the next. Galatea took the portrait from me, believing that it would be a good addition to the temple's artistic stock, but the sounds of a departing airship marked the end of any hope that Shiloh would soon glimpse the piece for herself. The automaton was now the sole reigning authority within that empty place, and she rightly assumed that I would be leaving soon.
Before I answered her question to that effect, though, the two of us got into a brief discussion on stubbornness.
"Many would agree with you on that sentiment," I replied in relation to the idea that stubbornness could be treated, "but the trouble comes when trying to drive away stubbornness with more of the same. Doesn't always work, and sometimes just solidifies the opponent's position." I was speaking from personal experience, but left my reservations on the matter at that. There was something else, I realized, that I needed to say instead.
It was at this moment in that cold hall that I began to see just how similar Shiloh was to a younger version of myself. This particular version, however, was not the same youth that Robin had awoken so recently. She, in particular, had found the optimism in me and shook it back to reality, but this lone deity? She reminded me of what came after optimism died.
Shiloh held within her the same cynicism and despair that had filled the void of my broken dreams. Her personality teetered on the brink of my own: almost like someone who was living but not really alive. I knew now, from personal experience, that this was a terrible path for her to be on; but, unlike me during that particularly dark time in my life, Shiloh still had friends. She still had hope, and so I decided to impress on Galatea some vital tidbits of wisdom.
"You've been most hospitable, Galatea," I said while gleaning my host's name from her surface memory, "so I'll not intrude more than I have, but a word of advice before I leave? Shiloh is a lot like me, but from another place and another time. I doubt you'll need to remind her of this, but I'm not someone she wants to become. Steer her toward a more normal life, if you can: or at least as normal as it can be for a deity. She has friends who look after her, no matter how much she may rage against them or their actions. Mayhaps that will save her in the end."
Save her from herself, I meant. I had no friends at that stage of my life, and it made me bitter to the point of hating people. Those struggles didn't have to be repeated, though, so I decided to warn those closest to this woman so as to avoid another tragedy. Obviously, however, there was no way I could guarantee this avoidance, so I didn't stick around to try. I prepared to leave following those comments instead, but not solely from my recognition of reality.
Despite the lack of any window in that temple, a chill wind blew down my spine in the hall. It was an event that only ever happened to me when danger was near; and I had a feeling that I needed to return home immediately. That feeling had visited before, and, judging from past experience, I knew it was foolish to ignore it. As such, I turned heel and left on foot shortly thereafter, but not before passing an additional piece of wisdom to my host.
"If you need to find me from now on, you might have to search in the place betwixt and beyond all: where darkness is the only law. If I have any domain left in this world, it's there." Holding up a hand to say goodbye following that final remark, I kept my back to Galatea until exiting the temple's front door. Then, with the magical dampening effect of the temple finally gone, I opened a void gate to travel the rest of the way.
A week later, Salem came under attack by fanatics from Dalanesca's faith. They went in to round up as many errant ghosts as they could, but I, along with my family and half the spirits in town, had already evacuated before their arrival. New Salem was born of these refugees: a town on the edge of the void, safe from the prying eyes of deity and fanatical mortal alike.
