No, I know... it's some sort of illusion. [She tears her eyes away from him, from Arvis' son. The mark on his forehead seems to reach into her, waking a nameless sense of dread.] I recognize him--I can tell he's the son of someone my family knew, someone who had been close to our king. We had never been entirely sure where his loyalties lay, and... I suppose now we do.

[She has a terrible feeling about what this means for Sigurd, if Arvis' son is on the throne, looking as malevolent as one of the old emperors out of history texts. Maybe he survived as the leader of an underground rebellion, but she knows him too well to think he would live this long as one.

Another woman fades into view at the cruel king's shoulder when Marianne steps closer to Ethlyn, looking at the young man with conflicted eyes. He turns to her, gesturing at the children with satisfaction.]

"Only the fittest will survive, and those fittest will become the ideal citizens of Loptous' new world."