CHAPTER XI — Domiar

The One Who Demands Obedience
"True power is the freedom to let others be."
Lumeth, The One Who Carries Freedom

Domiar is the demon of control.
He shows up when brands, leaders, and creators
stop building temples
and start building prisons.

He whispers:
• “Find your customer’s pain — and press on it.”
• “You’re the expert. Their job is to listen.”
• “Control their path. Push hard. They don’t know what they need.”

Domiar urges you to:
• design funnels with no way out,
• create products that breed dependency,
• write messages that say:

“You won’t make it without us.”

And the scariest part?
It works.
People buy.
They’re afraid to leave.
They comply.

But one day, you realize:

“They’re not walking with me — they’re obeying.”
You no longer inspire.
You dominate.

Domiar subtly swaps service for control,
love for manipulation,
connection for fear of loss.

Then He comes.
Lumeth.
He doesn’t break walls.
He opens doors.

He says:

“Want to be powerful?
Let them walk away — and love them anyway.”

He brings the soul back to the brand.
Where people stay —
not because they fear leaving,
but because they choose to stay.

Signs of Domiar:

·        You fear losing your clients.

·        Your copy is crafted to trap, not to invite.

·        You build a path where your audience has no real agency.

The Way of Lumeth:

·        Remove manipulation — leave only truth.

·        Don’t hide your fear of loss behind “expert authority.”

·        Speak in a way that lets people choose — not submit.

Domiar clutches.
Lumeth releases —
and that’s where true strength lies.

Light Covenant

If they listen, but don’t hear you,
follow, but don’t breathe with you,
buy, but don’t feel joy
maybe you’re leading instead of them,
not with them.

Close your eyes.
Ask:

“Who am I trying to control —
because I’m afraid to be alone?”

That’s where the return begins.

  • Ethan was a launch producer.
    He built online courses for experts —
    fast, structured, scalable.
    He was proud of his "retention funnel."
    Clients paid for months.
    They didn’t leave.

    He had built an ecosystem where:
    ▪ content unlocked on a schedule,
    ▪ every student had a personal mentor,
    ▪ questions were only accepted via forms,
    ▪ discounts lived in private chats,
    ▪ and access? Only if you stayed inside the system.

    “That’s how business works.
    That’s how you scale.”

    Then one day, a former client wrote to him:

    “Thanks for the results —
    but I stopped feeling like me.
    I wasn’t walking with you.
    I was just following your map.”

    Ethan didn’t understand why it stung.
    Everything worked.
    Clients were happy.
    Revenue was up.

    But on a call with a new client,
    he heard this question:

    “Will you help me — or just make me fit your system?”

    And in that moment —
    he felt fear.

    That night, Ethan reviewed his entire structure.
    And he saw it clearly:
    He hadn’t built a space —
    he had built dependency.

    The next day, he opened up all course materials.
    He removed the timed locks.
    And added a line to his welcome email:

    “You’re here — not because you have to be.
    But because you choose to be.”

    Some people stayed.
    Some left.
    But those who stayed —
    came back to him, not the system.

    This was Ethan.
    The one who let go —
    and for the first time,
    felt chosen not out of fear,
    but from love.

  • Nora was a coach.
    She worked with women — trauma, boundaries, self-worth.
    Her story was born from pain.
    Her voice — strong, steady, transformative.

    In the early days of her practice,
    she listened.
    She cried with her clients.
    She sat in silence with them.

    Then one day, a woman said:

    “You’re amazing.
    But sometimes I can’t tell where my thoughts end — and yours begin.”

    That sentence stuck like a splinter.

    As Nora’s audience grew — podcasts, retreats, more visibility —
    her tone grew sharper.
    Her voice started to carry judgment.

    ▪ “You just don’t want to take responsibility.”
    ▪ “If you resist, that’s your shadow speaking.”
    ▪ “Truth isn’t meant to be comfortable.”

    Clients nodded.
    They paid.
    But more and more — they left without a word.

    This wasn’t Falsari.
    This was Domiar.
    Whispering:

    “If you don’t hold the frame — they won’t respect you.”
    “If you don’t press — they won’t transform.”

    But one day, during a session, a client quietly said:

    “I’m scared to say what I really think.
    I feel like you’ll just decide I’m ‘not ready.’”

    And in that moment, Nora saw it:

    “I’m not guiding. I’m controlling.
    And now, they’re afraid to be themselves with me.”

    That night, she recorded a voice memo —
    just for herself.

    “I’m still strong.
    But I don’t want to dominate.
    I want to listen again.”

    From then on, her sessions came with new rules:
    ▪ “You don’t have to agree with me.”
    ▪ “You can challenge what I say.”
    ▪ “You get to be fully you — even in disagreement.”

    This was Nora.
    The one who let go of control —
    and found respect
    not through power,
    but through presence.

  • Leo was a strategist.
    His brand? Strong. Respected. Authoritative.
    He knew how to look like a leader.
    How to “inspire confidence” without losing control.

    Everything he created passed through filters like:
    ▪ “Does this reinforce my positioning?”
    ▪ “Does this sound like an expert?”
    ▪ “Does this show strength?”

    He never posted vulnerability.
    Never wrote spontaneously.
    Never said, “I don’t know.”

    “People follow confidence — not doubt.”

    And it worked.
    Until one day —
    he realized he was alone.

    Everything he published
    was read
    but not felt.
    He wasn’t moved by the praise.
    He didn’t feel free.
    He felt trapped in a golden cage of his own brand.

    One day, he went live.
    No script.
    No plan.

    He sat in silence for 20 seconds.
    Then simply said:

    “I’m tired of being an expert.
    I want to be human.
    I don’t know how —
    but I want to start.”

    Thousands watched.
    Many left.
    But those who stayed wrote:

    “Finally.
    Now you’re with us — not above us.”

    From that day forward, Leo stopped building an empire.
    He started building space
    where people could simply be.
    No titles.
    No tones.
    No performance.

    This was Leo.
    The one who tore down his own fortress —
    not to become weaker,
    but finally, to become alive.

    Domiar says: “Conquer.”
    Lumeth whispers: “Set free.”

Previous
Previous

CHAPTER X — Solvark

Next
Next

CHAPTER XII — Mimurex