"Marika..."
The voice drifted near and far, breaking off and resuming.
Marika looked at Radagon in the mirror. "This isn't your doing?"
"Of course not." Radagon spread his hands. "Why would I do that?"
"Then who's calling me?" Marika was a little confused.
Radagon rubbed his red hair. "Could it be... a vengeful spirit from the past?"
"Don't assume everyone has red hair like you." Marika was mocking Radagon for believing he had been cursed by the Giants.
"Could you stop bringing up my hair?" Radagon was very displeased.
"Then stop fussing over your hair so much. You're a grown man." Marika frowned. "Please give me some peace and quiet."
"Watching you two argue as husband and wife is so entertaining."
First, mist began to spread. Then a ball of fire ignited out of thin air. The flames drew inward, revealing an eye within.
Its gloam-colored pupil stared fixedly at Marika.
The eye sat in an illusory face.
As the mist dispersed, a woman's figure appeared, dressed in a long white gown sewn from skin.
Marika pressed a hand to her forehead. "It seems I haven't woken from my dream yet."
The Gloam-Eyed Queen smiled. "In theory, this might be the power of foresight you possess as a God. You can see certain things in the future."
Marika looked at Radagon in the mirror. "You were right. It really is a dead, vengeful spirit."
Radagon answered with a helpless smile.
She turned back to the Gloam-Eyed Queen. "So what message have you come to deliver?"
"I've been wondering why I lost." The Gloam-Eyed Queen stroked her nonexistent chin. "Because I didn't have a lord like Godfrey? Because I didn't have a helper as powerful as Maliketh? An Empyrean can't rely entirely on herself in the end, can she? So I