The Maker. Ken turned the unfamiliar epithet over in his mind, not knowing what to make of Dorian's apparent certainty. There was nothing about life or death or what came afterward that seemed obvious to him and, while he believed that he would see those that had passed on again someday, that had more to do with hope than knowledge. Deities and cycles and all the rest seemed like speculation; the world didn't seem as neat as all that. Still, the man's reverence for his craft and for the dead soothed the worst of his fears. The mage said he wouldn't abuse that power and the boy believed him. He gave a slight nod of his head and took a long sip of the hot tea, finding further comfort in the familiar taste.
"That...makes sense," he said finally, "I've definitely known people like that." Shinjiro, who had sacrificed himself to save Ken, and Minato, who had sacrificed himself to save everyone, would have wanted to do all that they could before passing on for good. He knew that. People like that deserved to be honored. His dark eyes met Dorian's and he added in a quiet, earnest tone, "I'm glad that's how you see it."