Somethings twists. It's not Henry's bedroom that she's stepped into but somewhere outside, a green place with a strong cool wind and sunlight gleaming down. Maketh turns in a slow circle, one hand on the sword at her belt. The image appears warped in places, colors bleeding into each other in odd patterns. An illusion? Another of Fear's games, perhaps.

Maketh blinks. There's a woman standing next to Henry, silent and graceful. Though Maketh knows very well who Iamarl is to Henry, she's never seen what the woman looks like. "Henry? What is this?"