[ All connections she once held in life passed into shadow long ago and those nascent bonds with the crew of the Mantis feel like nothing more than a dream now. So used to being untethered to anyone or anything, it seems the natural order of her remaining life to have a purpose in keeping the others here safe. A fate of easy acceptance.

She wonders at her companion. How long has he been here? Has he family, those who would mourn him? For the thought alone, she would ensure his safe return. She cannot be certain of anything that lies ahead, but of her own strength and ability, she remains confident.

Summoning her magick is something reserved for combat alone recently, yet in the dark, she would bring them light, if only for a moment. Moving beside and slightly ahead of the man, between her thumb and index finger, she calls forth a light green mist, a neon glow dancing in the shadows, illuminating the chained dead that beg relief. ]

I would see them. For a moment, they should be known.

[ With her other hand, she reaches into a satchel at her side, bringing forth a small flask of water; that brief time in the desert had highlighted the importance of carrying water wherever she goes now.

A strange feeling. All the dead of this place, wielded cruelly. She had summoned her sisters from the dead—true—but for their merciful protection. Here, it seems a twisted fate to befall them. Kneeling, the flask is held to the bones that remain. Her name is offered then, to the dead, to the one living who walks with her. ]

I am Merrin, from Dathomir. You will know peace, if it is in my power to grant it.