[ He watches her painful laughter before his gaze slips away to linger on her children. Priests in dark robes offered them power-- Emet-Selch almost wants to laugh hollowly himself. He wonders whether her impression of him would change if she knew he was more than a healer and much less than a man. ]

Mortal men have short memories. They soon forget the lessons of the past and the cautionary tales of their elders. Thus is progress made and unmade in the span of mere centuries. A blink of an eye or the snap of one's fingers compared to the longevity of a star.

[ But what manner of trial is this meant to be? A showcase of her regrets? ]

So - your children were the ones who took up the offer from their malignant benefactors?