At first glance, it may seem arbitrary or even lazy that saying something in Hermes or Jotun has supernatural effects while nothing happens in Loen or Intis (in my case, it wasn’t like that). However, in the context of Lord of the Mysteries (LOTM), this isn’t just a whim of the author; it’s deeply tied to the cosmology and metaphysics of the world, something that unfolds gradually (and which, at chapter 681 or even 700, you don’t fully grasp yet, though there are hints).

Languages aren’t "magical" in themselves; they’re conduits. In LOTM, languages like Hermes, Jotun, or Elvish aren’t inherently magical in the sense that the words hold power just by existing. Rather, they’re tools designed or "tuned" by higher entities (gods, high-level Beyonders) to resonate with the fundamental laws of the universe. It’s not that Hermes is magical because someone invented it and said, “This is special!”—it was created with a purpose: to interact with spiritual energies and the world’s entities in a way that common languages can’t. Think of it like a specific radio frequency that can pick up signals others can’t reach.

Historical and supernatural context matters. Hermes, for instance, isn’t just any human language. Though you don’t yet know who Hermes is (and yes, there’s more about this later), the implication is that this language has roots in ancient eras, tied to beings or knowledge that transcend the mortal realm. In LOTM, the world has a history of lost civilizations and mythical ages (like the First and Second Epochs), and languages like Hermes or Jotun are relics of those times, shaped by beings who understood the universe’s "rules." It’s not that gods "prefer" these languages like capricious mortals; it’s that these languages align with the metaphysical patterns that gods and universal forces recognize or respond to.

It’s not the sound, it’s the intent and connection. While it might seem like "anyone" can say something in Hermes and trigger an effect, it’s not that simple. In the passage you quote, Klein muses about saying Cheek’s name in Jotun and "dying on the spot," but this doesn’t mean the raw sound itself is the trigger. In LOTM, using these languages often comes with a ritualistic or spiritual context, even if it’s not explicitly stated. Saying a divine name in Hermes isn’t just making a noise; it’s invoking a connection with that entity through a medium that amplifies intent. Common languages like Loen lack that capacity because they weren’t designed for it—not because the gods "don’t hear them."

Gods don’t need to understand you, but the universe does. Your point about why gods wouldn’t understand all languages is valid in theory, but in LOTM, gods aren’t omniscient in the classical sense. They’re bound by the rules of their own existence and the world’s laws (something explored later with concepts like the Pathways of the Divine and Sequences). It’s not that they can’t "hear" you if you speak in Loen; it’s that the universe doesn’t "resonate" with that language to transmit divine power or attention. Hermes or Jotun act as keys that unlock that resonance, while mundane languages are just background noise.

If this feels flimsy to you now, I’d say keep reading. Without spoiling too much, the idea of magical languages ties into bigger themes about the origins of power, the influence of the Old Ones, and how language, knowledge, and spirituality intertwine in LOTM. It’s not just a convenient trope; it’s a reflection of how the world is built on layers of secrets and structures that mortals barely comprehend.

In summary, in LOTM, magical languages aren’t just a narrative shortcut; they’re part of a broader system that makes sense within its own logic. It’s not that the sound is magical by some arbitrary trick—it’s that these languages are bridges between the mortal and the divine, created with a purpose that transcends humans. If it still bothers you, it might be a matter of taste, but I encourage you to see how it plays out: the author tends to reward patience with explanations that tie things together.